The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Twenty Four

It was Captain Andozini who led the raid beyond the walls. Through the tunnels beneath the House of Leadership and up into the ruined hamlet.

Now, he had the unenviable task of sorting out the mess. At thirty years of age, with a life partner and three children, military responsibilities and a dying mother to contend with, the eruption of violence across the city had him teetering on the edge. It was becoming harder to get up and face it. He had become irritable with his men and shoddy with his responsibilities. His unit had been grumbling for weeks and months at how dull and routine everything was. A few disagreements in the marketplaces. Petty vandalism in Progress Square. A couple of protesting SOT members. There had been no challenge. Even he had joined in with the complaining, momentarily forgetting his position and rank, but these past few days had him wishing the clock would turn back.

Closing off his personal problems, shutting down all thoughts of his loved ones, he was eager to get his teeth into this situation and prove to his men, his commanders and himself, that he was worthy of the title of Captain. His first instruction had been to secure the bearded man. He had witnessed, at first hand, the carnage this man had unleashed through the House of Leadership. He had butchered over twenty people, mostly ministers and security officers, but also several administrators, stewards and engineers. There had been only five survivors. It had taken six of his men to restrain the bearded killer.

Andozini had then ordered a forward recon party, equipped with flares and automatic weapons, in case the raiders chose to return to the area in greater numbers. At this moment, he was working upon the assumption that this was one group of raiders, not two separate factions, despite the protests of General Nuria. Not that she would be General for much longer. She had been complicit in allowing this group to escape and strong rumours were already circulating within the city that she was a key member of the SOT. He did not know there was a distinction between the separatist organisation - one real, one fake - but he was unsure that a highly intelligent and decorated officer such as Nuria fit the mantle of traitor.

The one eyed girl was also to be taken into the city. His men were wary of her, initially, until he barked the order at them again. Emil was lifted to her feet, half dragged, half walked, her face stained with tears as she looked back at Tomas's body, lying crumpled and bloodied on the ground. Her throat was dark with bruises where the Cleric had attempted to choke her.

Both prisoners were shackled and hooded, then led back on foot to the city under armed escort.

Andozini ordered for all the bodies and vehicles to be searched and stripped of weapons and supplies and for this to be stock piled at a distance. He sent a single man back to the city with orders for the production factories to release ten three wheeled transport bicycles, with a rider for each.

Slowly, the Captain circled the tribe's abandoned vehicles, astonished at how well armoured they were.

"These will need to be destroyed," he said. "I want all the bodies placed with them and then torch the entire lot."

The last of group of his men responded. One by one, the bodies of the Cleric's tribe were carried and tossed onto a heap next to the armoured cars. None of the men had any experience of driving a vehicle but they knew how to roll one. Gradually, the vehicles were pushed together with the grisly stack of bodies piled beside them.

"Last one," called a soldier.

"Not him," said Nuria. "I want him taken to the city."

Glances passed between the remaining soldiers.

"He's to be cremated there. Not with this trash."

Captain Andozini shook his head, firmly.

"Burn him with the rest," he said.