The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Thirty

The horizon began to brighten.

Stone wound down his window. The morning air was cool and fresh. The road stretched north, potholed and empty, and banked a bleak landscape of low hills and craters. He would drive until the tank was empty. And then he would walk. And he would keep walking. He had told Tomas he had seen nothing beyond avenging his dead family, the fire would extinguish inside, he would be free to fade into nothingness, but he had been wrong. He glanced at Emil. She was asleep, lightly snoring, her head resting on Nuria's shoulder, who was also asleep. He savoured the silence and listened to the throbbing of the engine.

He turned onto a new highway, forging deeper into the wasteland. The black energy ran out an hour later. The vehicle stuttered and ground to a stop. The jolt woke Nuria and Emil. The three of them abandoned the truck, collecting packs, head scarves and weapons from the flatbed, and began to walk. The highway cut through a land of rugged hills. On the horizon, possibly four or five days walk, was a range of mountains, jagged peaks reaching into the washed out sky.

"Are we heading for the mountains?" asked Nuria, a black scarf covering her head.

Stone was quiet.

"Do you have a plan?"

Emil glanced at Stone. Goggles covered his eyes and his face showed no expression.

"Maybe you should have stayed," said Emil, gently.

"Where? In Chett?" She shook her head. "Can you imagine what it's like there now?"

"No," said Emil, not really sure what the woman wanted to hear.

"There's no one left now," said Nuria, glancing at Stone. His beard was growing through, straggly and wispy. A head scarf covered a fresh layer of fuzzy hair. "They will have to start again."

"Like us," said Emil. "Starting again."

Stone stepped off the road, crouched down and poked at the ground, shifting the dirt with a gloved hand.

He got back to his feet and continued walking.

"Stone?" said Nuria, catching up with him. "Where are we going?"

Once more, he ignored her question. Emil, hot and thirsty, was becoming irritated by her.

"Stop badgering him," she said. "We don't know where we're going. This isn't like your city where everything is neatly put together."

The three of them stopped, in the middle of the road.

"Where are we going?" said Emil. "What's the plan? Are we going here? Are we going there?"

"There's no need to mimic me," said Nuria, quietly.

"Either stick with us or go back," said Emil.

Stone lifted his goggles. His eyes were rimmed with tears.

"I was thinking of Tomas," he said.

Emil bit her lip. Nuria looked away.

"Two people," he said, wiping his sleeve across his face and pointing. "At least a day ahead, judging by the camp I found."

He lowered his goggles and strode forward, leaving the highway, his boots finding a way across the hard sand, his long coat flapping in the wind. Nuria and Emil said nothing and followed behind him.

A few hours later, they found shade and rested, finishing off the water and half of the rations Nuria had stowed inside Stone's backpack. As they crossed the barren land, they noticed sparse patches of grass punching through the sand and the rock. As darkness fell, they built a small fire and took turns sleeping. Stone never woke Emil for her watch and left her sleeping all night. In the morning, he stamped on the dying embers of the fire and buried it. Nuria looked back and saw no trace they had been there.