Tales from the Wasteland

Chapter One

Max lays in his bed, the bedsheet not fully covering his shirtless upper-body. He stares at the ceiling, lost in thought. His eyes glance to his sleeping wife, and a smile begins to grow on his face. Her eyes open meeting his, she smiles back at him.

"Good morning, my love." Camila says, her voice soothes Max as he relaxes for the first time since she fell asleep. Her hand gently reaches out to touch his face.

"Good morning, my Queen." Max says, kissing her hand. The pair lay in each other's warmth for what seems like an eternity to them, but was really a few minutes.

"What do you have to do today...?" Camila asks, Max sighs as he looks back up at the ceiling.

"Work." Max replies, his blunt answer doesn't faze Camila.

"If you need to talk about it-" Camila is speaking but she doesn't finish as Max sits up.

"I know I can talk to you about it my love, but in truth...I can't." He says "...the work itself isn't the problem, it's why I do it."

"Why do you do it?" Camila asks, Max stares at the window.

"Redemption." Max responds simply, Camila places a hand on his shoulder.

"I know our road was long...the things we had to do...you had to do...I understand why you wish for it but ...for now...I'm content with how far we've come." Camila says, Max looks back into her eyes, her hand rests on her stomach. "Our family will help you come to terms...help you realize you are redeemed." Max kisses her hand on his shoulder.

"I should get ready."  Max says, standing from the bed. Camila remains laying where she is, holding her head up with her arm.

"Kiss me before you go?" Camila asks, smiling at him.

"Of course, my love." Max replies, smiling back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Max stands on his porch, the early morning sky barely illuminates the land his house is built on. A cigarette hangs off his mouth, as he stares off into the distant ruins of Washington, D.C. The smoke from his cigarette moves around his duster hat, his regulator coat is worn but taken care of. He glances down at the list in his hands, and takes a deep breath in.

"If I send enough wicked your way...can I be saved with my family?" Max pondered aloud softly, his eyes reading each name.

'Why would anyone save you?' A voice says, Max continues reading the list seeming unfazed by the voice. 'The world doesn't forgive so easily, Maximus. Neither do the dead.'

Max's eyes look up, seeing the beaten and bloody body of a boy, standing mere feet away from him.

'I WON'T LET YOU FORGET!' The boy screams at him, Max stands his ground taking a drag of the cigarette.

"I know." Max says, the smoke exhaling from his mouth. "I'm not looking to forget."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Max walks into the room, Camila lays fast asleep in their bed. He smiles to himself as he stands there for a moment, enjoying her peace. Max gently walks to his side of the bed, reaching for his revolver that sat atop his night stand. A scratched up, an unrecognizable Ranger Sequoia. He places the revolver in his holster and walks around to his side of the bed.

"I'll see you when I return, my love." Max kisses her head gently. Camila has her eyes closed but a small smile grows on her face as he leaves the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Please...you don't have to do this!! It's c-caps you want right?! I'll get you caps! I have caps!" Ricky begs for his life, Max stands across from him aiming his revolver at him.