He couldn’t stop staring at his wrist watch. He couldn’t control the woeful thoughts that sieged his mind. He knew for a slum dweller his death would come one of these days, but it never crossed his mind that it shall be in the wasteland where the love and fellowship of friends has been replaced by the cruel embrace of ash and rubbles.
The storm was approaching fast. He saw it and Troy too, could not help but gaze at the massive gale that swept with death. They watched it for a moment. The way the storm curled around buildings before swallowing them whole into total obscurity like some magic trick of disappearance. Runner knew he had to choose between two monsters, one which was fast approaching and the other which lay in wait in the form of Ishmael’s gang of man-hunters.
After witnessing what they did to Gunner, he couldn’t help but give a little compliment to the government of MegacityOne. The world was one big pit of shit, everyone knew that, but somehow there was a little bit of order in the domed city thanks to the ever vigilance of Section 5.
Ishmael! Oh crazy Ishmael, he was once called the bully of Bug town. Three years ago, the Rangers of Section 5 put down a rebellion caused by the gang leader, crazy man he was. To prove the firmness of his cause, he torched twenty trucks transporting food supplies to the big city, causing an uprising that was crushed by the Supreme Councillor. For a moment, he had almost done what many could not, tumble the dictatorial leadership of MegacityOne. Well, the enormous amount invested in Section 5 proved useful when the elite sector routed his hideout and massacred a good quarter of his followers.
Things were different now. Beyond the comforts of the domed city, it was only survival that mattered and here, the only thing Ishmael rebelled against were the virtues of sanity.
“What are we going to do?” Troy asked.
“I thought you were the smart one, figure something out,” Runner answered furiously.
He gazed at his wrist watch again, “damn it! Two minutes till the storm hits.”
“You’re not helping,” Troy’s voice was shaky.
Something struck Runner’s mind. Something he had always considered stupid. They were not outlaws, but Old Max always said that every slum dweller was an outlaw. Perhaps he was right and thus he set seven rules to guide every man beyond the comforts of home.
“To survive is to blend,” Runner uttered.
Troy stared at him, “What?”
“Remember Old max’ seven rules to survive the wasteland, the first says to survive is to blend,” a grin grew on Runner’s face.
“I thought you said Old Max’ theories are detrimental to sanity.”
Runner moved along the walls and spied on the gang of man-hunters. “Look around you, Troy, this is insanity. We have been living in madness since we breathed the cruel air of this world. Come over here,”
Troy moved along the walls, careful not to be seen.
Runner rose up gently, just enough to have a vivid view of the gang. He estimated fifteen to twenty men in all, dressed in greasy clothing that have not touched the warm waters of a laundry for long. They carried cruel weapons forged by the merging of several dangerous tools together.
He caught two men, stealing out for a smoke, his perfect opportunity to test Old Max’ rules and pray he doesn’t get pounded to death.
“Let’s take them out and put on their outfit, no one will notice since there are a lot of gang members holed up in the hideout.”
YOU ARE READING
Liberation (Remnants of Men)
Science FictionWhen seventeen year-old Runner was sentenced to death for stealing a loaf of bread in MegaCity One, his dreams were literally at an end. But then he opts to sign up for the Remnants of Men, a government sanctioned search for a rumoured fresh water l...
