Queen's Princess

PART I: Chapter 2

"Aye, give that back!" I yelled, getting up and trying to punch the kid in front of me, but they shoved me back down onto the ground. His lackeys kicked me in the stomach a couple of times before they spat onto the ground next to my head.

"Not a chance in hell," the kid snickered and they bounded off. 

I slowly got up, leaning onto my one arm. My entire abdomen area was screaming with pain as I leaned against a nearby mound of trash. The blazing sun was beating down on me, causing even more pain since I had yet to take care of my sunburns. Sighing and gritting my teeth together, I lift myself up and I started to make my way to another mound of trash. Even if my legs weren't wanting to move, I willed them to. I had to find something out here. I didn't want to return home empty handed, but it was like that for most of the time we were out here.

When Mason Howl became the Junker King, our family was one of the first to be banished to the Wasteland along with many others. I would watch the doors to Junkertown open and another group of people or family would emerge with only a singular bottle of water to go around. It wouldn't last a couple hours if the family was much bigger. I remember seeing a family of five come out from Junkertown. The most prominent one I remember seeing had blue hair that was in a mowhawk, but there were braids running down both sides of their head. I've seen them around here, wandering, trying to scavenge anything they could. I never really interacted with them. They never gave me a reason to. Wastelanders only look after themselves or if they had a family, their family then themselves. But if it was just them, they were selfish, greedy people. It didn't matter if there were children starving or dying of dehydration. They wanted to be the one to survive. 

Searching through another mound of trash, I found something that might be useful. It was just a bottle, but it was the first bottle I've seen that wasn't broken. I tucked it into my small bag I had and continued to look. While there was nothing after a good search, I decided it was time to head home, considering the sunburns were searing with pain now. I could feel my skin move everytime I walked and it was not only painful, but it was weird. When I reached my home, I opened the door to find my mother and grandparents sitting around. My mother was doing her best with washing the little clothing we had, but we needed water to do that. And water was the scarcest thing out in the Wastelands. It was mostly desert and there was a higher chance of death out in the sands than finding an oasis. By the time someone did, they realized it wasn't real because of delrium. 

"Ah, Y/N, you're back," my grandfather said.

"I am, papa," I said and hugged him.

Even if he was much older than my parents, both my grandma and grandpa were the biggest troopers I have seen out here. They were unable to walk with the sandy terrain, making them more susceptible to falling and getting injuried. But whenever they do, they take it like a champ. A lot of the people who were here before us had a bet going around on how long my grandparents would last. They had both outlived the ones who had made the bet in the first place because they died of dehydration. 

"Find anything good out there?" he asked.

"I found a glass bottle," I said, showing it to him.

"I haven't seen one of these since we lived in Junkertown. All the ones 'ere are broken."

"If we ever find water, I'm sure we can put it in the bottle," I said.

"Anything else ya find today?" he asked, setting the bottle down.

"I did find something to help with the sun, but one of the boys around here stole it from me."

"Ah, those nasty kids. They don't understand the 'finders keepers' rule."

"No one ever does around here other than me, papa."

"And that's a good thing ya do. I don't care if someone found the biggest source of water in the Wastelands. If they want to be greedy bastards and keep it to themselves, they'll keep it to themselves. Then they'll see how lonely they'll be," my grandfather chuckled.

"You do have a point, papa," I chuckled. 

"Y/N, your father needs your help in the 'garage'."

"Oh, mum, you know I can't do anything to help him. I'm not strong like him."

"He knows, my child," she said. "But he needs your speed."

"I guess," I mumbled and walked over to the 'garage', which was outside with a large piece of thin sheet of metal being held up by two wooden planks that are screwed into the plating.

I opened the door that led outside to see my father was working on this motorcycle he found in one of the junk yards. 

"G'day there, kiddo," my father greeted me, slowly getting up from where he was kneeling. "How's my little ray of sunshine?"

"Fine."

"Find anything good?"

"I didn't other than a bottle."

"Well, if I get this motorcycle up and runnin' we can put that bottle to good use."

"Find what the issue was?"

"Nah, I had someone come and take a look at it."

"Who was it?"

"He goes by Stone. I don't know if that's his actual name or not, but that's his name. But he did give me a list of what I needed and diagrams of what they look like. Hey, next time you're out there, do you mind looking for me?"

"You want me to look for those parts?"

"Yeah. You're quick on your feet so if you need to run from someone, you can."

"I'll do my best," I said.

"Great," he said, walking over to his workbench and writing down the same list before handing it to me. "In case you lose your list, we have the original here."

"Good thinking, dad."

"Now, can ya help me with what I can do here?" he gestured to the motorcycle.

"I guess I'll try my best," I said, sliding my bag off my shoulder, letting it fall onto the sand below.