Chasing Ghosts

Blackwood

It had been several months since the fall of the RSH with no word from the inside, other than the usual radio chatter from raiders. Before the world was turned upside down, it was the Roger Sherman Memorial Hospital, a massive square building where Marylanders of all ages could go for medical help. Once the plagues started killing doctors and patients alike, it shut down due to the overflow of emergencies. A few years after the pandemic ended it was resurrected as the RSH by a group of enterprising survivors, eager to find a secure new home. Unfortunately, in a story that was far too commonplace, they were attacked by another less-than-friendly group and quickly massacred. From then on, the RSH was just another magnet for those who chose to live on the run, ruled by only the most ruthless.

The one positive aspect of a raider stronghold was no one cared who wanted who dead. If anyone did come knockin' for revenge or money, they were on their own. No matter who got killed, raiders didn't particularly care about upholding the old laws on murder or slavery. Of course, turning a blind eye toward all comings and goings did have its drawbacks. A single individual, one who was sought after by several interested parties, proved to be the downfall of this raider kingdom.

One day, the RSH was its usual infuriating maze of tunnels and when the sun rose the next morning it was a mess of splattered bodies and piles of bricks. No one from the group knew if it was a gang war, more raiders, or a god damn nuclear bomb. The only thing anyone knew was a man named Beatle had lived in that complex for a while and although there was a metric ton of talk about the bounty on his head, no one had actually found his body among the rubble.

That was a while ago though and most people had generally forgotten about it save for the occasional person bitching about how they couldn't find good drink and cheap whores in the Deadlands anymore. Daily survival was enough of a challenge, even for those who were lucky enough to live in a community or collective. The world had seen a cataclysm, people had lived through it and gone back to their lives, as best they could anyway.

Well... most people had. There were still three or four people who still gave enough of a damn about it to try and look for Beatle, and one of them was closer than he thought.

***

Darkness was quickly falling in Blackwood, the lights inside the walls quickly became the only things warding off the gloom. The people inside were doing what they usually did; complaining about constant attempts to raid the compound, talking about their life stories, and of course the usual fighting.

Blackwood was a rudimentary community that inhabited the dead center of the Badlands. If anyone was fleeing north from the city, or heading south on the eastern former states, they were sure to pass through it, mostly because it was the only place that provided both haven from gangs and was really the only thing close to former civilization in the area. The compound itself was comprised of a mansion, around which someone had the bright idea to build a bunch of pre-fab houses. Sometime along the way, according to Blackwood legend, a rich crazy guy had bought the entire property, mansion, everything. Whether or not he somehow predicted the downfall of society or just was a big fan of cowboys and Indians, he constructed a massive palisade wall around his land. Just like a frontier fort, it was complete with guard towers, log walls sharpened to points, and even a massive gate big enough to drive a tank through. Inside the walls, a miniature farm grew beside pens of animals. The medieval setting was strange, considering the fact that everything else was completely modern, but nobody questioned it. In fact, the only real point of argument among the inhabitants was why the entire fort was called Blackwood. All the timber in the surrounding area was either reddish or grey, depending on the tree. However, no matter how logical any argument was, the general consensus was that if anyone was rich and batshit nuts enough to construct such a monstrosity as Blackwood, they could name it whatever they chose.