FALLOUT

4

The one thing everyone knows about Abditory is that it's basically wasteland. During the world wars, it was the hardest hit area. What they don't know, because they don't teach it anymore, is that it used to be the backbone of a country. 

It had farms that helped feed not only the country but the entire world. Cities. Countless towns with neighborhoods full of houses all alike where trees lined the streets. Everyone had a yard, with green grass that was kept trim and neat. Pots overflowed with flowers of all shapes and colors. Dogs ran in yards, and kids, including myself, would ride their bikes up and down the sidewalks until the streetlights came on. 

It had a different name then. It used to be my home. Before it was this.

After two more days of recuperating at the shack, and another day's worth of hiking, we'd finally set eyes on The Eastern Berm, one of the two borders of Abditory proper. The treeline stopped abruptly about a quarter mile away from a massive ten foot high wall built of brick, stone, earth and junk; basically anything and everything they could get their hands on. 

They didn't exactly throw out the welcoming mat. If you didn't live in Abditory, you were not welcome in Abditory. Period. And now that they were at war, there would be even less patience for outsiders. That is if we could even get past the border at all without being recognized.

Wyn pulled a pair of binoculars out of his pack and peered out across the barren field leading up to the wall. His face remained expressionless as he lowered them and popped them back into his pack, sitting down on a large rock next to a tree. 

I leaned against a tree not far from him, pulling the hood of my sweater up over my head. The sun had set and the cool chill of dusk was beginning to creep through the forest. He had been vague at best the past few days. All I knew was that we needed to head west until we ran into The Berm. And here we were. 

"So, what's the plan?" 

"Wait for dark." He picked up a stick and began scraping clods of dirt off of his boots.

I bit my tongue, trying to keep my patience. "And what happens when it's dark?"

His eyes squinted as he concentrated on unsticking a rock from a tread. "I go in, find help, and we'll come back for you." The rock sprung free and flew across the ground.

I blinked. "What? You can't go in there alone, are you insane?"

A bored look spread over his features as he continued on the other boot. "What's going to happen? The border guards are going to kill me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, I don't know. They might sound the alarm? Capture you? Alert Callum?"

He glanced up thoughtfully, then went back to his boots. "Hopefully all of the above."

"Now who's going off half-cocked?"

"I have a plan. Don't worry." 

Despite the fact that I'd given him almost this exact line just a few short days ago, his dismissive attitude was really starting to get on my already raw nerves. 

"And your plan consists of being captured and taken to Callum?"

"Not exactly, but that would make things easier."

"Make what easier, exactly?"

"Killing him." 

Hearing the words come out of his mouth instead of hearing them inside my head was surprisingly different. 

He pointed at me with the stick. "And that's why it has to be me to do it." 

"I want him dead just as much as you do." I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Don't get all huffy." He tossed his stick aside and turned his attention on me. "You always could see the good in people, Bex. But we can't waste time while you search for the good left in him. What he's done; what he plans to do... we both know there is no good in that."

It was true. What Callum intended to do with the machine would result in utter disaster. My mind suddenly finished processing what he'd said about his plan. "What help?" I asked curiously.

A twig crunched in the silence behind us and Wyn stilled, hand slowly moving to the gun at his back. A shiver ran up my spine as he rose and stepped in front of me, weapon cocked with a loud click and eyes trained on a spot in the trees. I strained, trying to make out what he was watching. Movement made me jump but Wyn stood fast, body shifting to follow our watcher, who took a step out from behind a tree.

Dark curly hair was cropped close to his head, and he had skin that appeared it would be just as smooth as the caramel color it was if it weren't covered in a layer of dirt and dust. He slowly raised his hands out in front of his chest, an odd smile quirking his lips.

Wyn strode towards the man, gun still trained on him. He stopped in front of the stranger and pulled the wooden bow from his shoulder, tossing it in my direction. I moved forward and picked it up. The handle was surprisingly smooth, a stark contrast to the weathered appearance of its owner. Reaching inside the man's robe, Wyn disarmed him of a dagger.

A smile quirked the man's lips and he glanced down pointedly. "It appears you do not need protection from me. After all, there is nothing one can do to harm an Athan."

*******

A/N: 

Who do we think this man is? Friend or foe?