Survive [Mad Max: Fury Road]

Chapter Nine

"Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you, and you will resent its absence!"

-Immortan Joe

It was eventually the lack of water that broke me; not enough that I was willing to crawl back to the Citadel, but enough to make me plan how I was going to sneak in. Such a risky endeavour could mean the end of my life, I was well aware, but I knew the Citadel. Furiosa had given me directions to get out, and I knew that I couldn't go in the same way with War Boys and Pups all around, probably still on the lookout for me, the terror that killed Ira in their eyes. To get into the Citadel I was going to have to scale the walls, and make sure that I was out of the sights of anyone who was watching. It had been a few days since I had escaped; how long would they extend the search for me? Surely they thought me dead already.

With my black pants hanging over the tops of my boots, which were two sizes too big but I had almost perfected stuffing the toe and heel area so that my foot didn't slide around, I tightened the belt so that I wouldn't have wardrobe issues while scaling a mountain. I had not found new clothes, and so the white shirt that I wore, now stained with dirt, was cut off at my midriff. Like the first time I headed back into the depths of the Citadel, I wrapped myself in my shawl, covering my body and my bandanna covering my face. Using some of the wire that Max had left for me to enhance my safety features of my home, I tucked it in my bag, which was emptied for maximum food and water I would be able to lug back.

Two hours later, I arrived at the Citadel; it loomed over me like an ominous memory that would never filter out of my head. Though I had not suffered nightmares since I had left the wicked place, I felt a chill run down my spine even though sweat was pouring from my forehead after the long trek. Staying out of sight of both Corpus Colossus, and any War Boys, I made a close walk around the perimeter. There were always less eyes on the back of the Citadel, as both Gastown and the Bullet Farm were the other direction. The Citadel was not made for easy scaling, and I had no experience in the matter either, but it was life or death for me. If I fell to my death, at least that would be the end of the struggle.

When I arrived at the back of the Citadel, I felt as though the towers had grown triple in size; they reached up towards the blue sky, breathing the freshest air possible, and I was down below in the dust and the blood. My eyes scanned as far as I could, trying to spot foot holds and rocks that jutted out that I could grasp. Nothing looked exceptionally promising, so I began my climb, wrapping a wire around my belt loops and using the end of it to hook onto every hand hold I could find. At least if I slipped, there was a chance I would not fall to my death. The wire was strong, but my knots were not. The large boots made for more difficult climbing, as they wouldn't slide into some of the smaller foot holes, and I made a note to try and find a pair of shoes that would fit my while I was here. Maybe I could scavenge the dead, as they were usually piled high just outside the medical cave; no time to bury. All rituals from before the crumble of the world were gone, new ones had been made.

After an hour of climbing I had multiple cuts on my hands, and blood began to loosen my grip along with the sweat from my palms. Avoiding look down, I focused on searching for an entrance somewhere; most openings were very high up, close to the vault and the crops, but I knew that there were some lower openings. That meant I was more likely to run into someone, but I had my pistol tucked into my waistband and my dagger in my back packet. No one would be expecting me, so I had the element of surprise. While that had not worked on Max, I knew better than to ever have the safety on my gun.

Gaining on the window that was only fifty feet up, I noticed that the route I had chosen was starting to lean, and I could not defy gravity and climb upside down. If I had climbing gear, it would have been possible, but I only had sweaty hands and a full heart of determination. Thirst was eating away at my brain like maggots, and so I began to shift my route, having to climb back down before I could move to the left as to go around the convex structure. Looking down at last, I spotted my last foot hole and brought my foot down, trying to shove my large boot into it. The force I used was too much for the angle that my body was hanging at, and I found myself dangling only by my hands; both feet kicking wildly as if I could defy gravity. A scream bubbled up in my throat, but I had to stay silent. Once I caught anyone's attention, they would shoot my down were I clung on for life.