Black Source #theWattys2016

Derek III

The outskirts of civilization were blemished with decay and the cryptic ruins of humanity. Desperation dressed the abandoned hills, leaving nothing to the imagination. Derek played over the events of the day, recording them in his journal, in hopes of undoing their bindings in his mind. In the back of the jeep, he ran his mind around the thought of Angel, if by any chance she could still be alive. Trying his best to ignore the man-sized potholes in the road, he jotted down another similarity he found between Mikey and Jacob, there were many. Raven and Asher were much less aggressive toward each other, possibly having to do with the map.

Asher finally broke the silence. "The elders will lose their minds when they see this." Asher and Raven had been pondering on the contents of the map the whole ride, conjuring up one bad outcome after another. Now they wondered if the map meant war.

Raven stayed silent and leaned up against the jeep's icy window, the forest zipping past them.

"This is exactly what Frank was talking about," Asher's voice was sharp. "If the things on that map are true, then the Infidels were right all along...Gladstone's going to have to rethink some things."

"I don't know...let's just hope it doesn't come to war." Raven said.

"The way things are looking, that's what we're in for." Asher said. Looking over the map again, Raven couldn't ignore the obvious signs. The Mod Army had been advancing westward through the country, annexing every faction in their way. It was only a matter of time before they controlled the Midwest, giving them the leverage they would need to neutralize New America.

In the distance, Derek could make out the grey, hazed backdrop of hills, and the high peaks of mountains beyond them. Asher drove through the dirt paths that framed acres of crop fields that were filled with people working on the land, and small villages that stacked up the hillsides. They wore straw hats and grey tunics. Everything looked old and primitive compared to Arcana, but that was an improvement from the wasting ruins along Revere's Way. Mikey had told Derek they were entering New America's provinces, and that the seven elders mentioned in the book were like governors over them. He also mentioned that being an elder meant being a Daggermouth, like a majority of New America's citizens. They were finally well out of danger, at least from the Mod Army.

"This is where most of the crops are farmed," Asher said, pointing out the window. "They trade their crops with the 6th province, which offers its protection in return. Once you get into the wealthier provinces, like 3 and 4, everything works on the bartering system."

"New America's capital should be a surprise for you." Mikey added, looking triumphant.

"How so," Derek asked.

"Well, all the provinces leading up to the capital are just little settlement, but once you're past those, you'll be in Hollywood—the grand capital. It's like a festival all the time. There's dancing, cheering, gaming, and just about anything you could think of."

"You should see the city on election day. It gets crazier," Asher said shaking his head.

"When we get there, I'll have you talk to Frank." Raven said, turning to Derek in the back seat. "If your friends are there, he'll know. He's been the head of immigration for the longest."

"I'll give the news to Gladstone in his regard. " Asher said with seriousness in his gaze. The mountains towered over the jeep, scraping the Ellis with snow at their peaks. Derek figured that the mountains were New America's advantage, keeping flesh eaters away and making it difficult for factions to overrun them. But their defenses couldn't last forever.