Aaa

Patrick Lopez

Prologue

Steak, baked potatoes, and a glass of coke. That’s was dinner for the night, paired with a flat screen TV and a comfy chair, talking with his family about the day, what the kids did at school, gossip with his wife about what’s happening down the road, who the new neighbours were and what they did.

“ it’s time to wake up.” A mans voice spoke through his wife.

“What?” The man replied, confused at the change in voices.

“Wake up! We need you!” The voice started shouting.

There was an explosion.

Chapter 1

The explosion threw Shane across the room, interrupting the sweet, peaceful dream he had grown accustomed to having.

“What the hell’s going on?” Shane yelled out, to anyone who could hear him.

“Wasters are attacking, they’ve breached the compound!” Screamed another voice.

Shane grimaced as he stood up reaching for a nearby rifle. a Waster attack? They usually aren’t as coordinated this.

Shane rushed out of the destroyed room into the rest of the compound and was horrified by what he saw, Wasters had overrun the place and were setting buildings on fire, trapping people inside, burning them alive. He raised his gun and was about to fire at a Waster armed with a torch when he was abruptly interrupted by another waster tackling him to the ground.

“That’s a nice arm you’ve got, let’s have a taste shall we?” The Waster snarled at him.

It then bit into his right arm, and began eating it.

Shane screamed in Pain, and writhed around trying to unsuccessfully escape the Wasters grasp. He felt around looking for a knife, a piece of wood, ANYTHING to get this semi human beast off of him. His hand grabbed a rock, and smashed the Wasters skull with it, knocking him off. Shane wasted no time in jumping on the Waster and finishing the job, repeatedly hammering the rock into the Wasters face until it was nothing but a mess of brain and bone.

Looking up Shane realized the compound was lost, the Wasters had killed most of the defenders, and were looting the buildings that hadn’t been set ablaze in the initial attack.

A sharp whistle brought his and the Wasters attention to a large, tall man in the back of a truck. He looked like the other Wasters, dressed in scraps of black cloth, but this one had a giant staff with him, spiked on one end to form a brutal club, and an evil looking mask with goat horns and small holes for eyes.

“Let this compounds fall be a warning to any enemy of the Wasters!” The voice boomed, his words causing cheers and yelps from the Wasters he led.

With the Wasters distracted, Shane set out to escape the compound he once considered his home, the only place he knew as home. A blown out wall was his escape route, leading him into the nuclear wasteland that was one known as Canada.

Chapter 2

Shane has been walking for what seemed like miles, heading west. The flatlands were his destination. Far away from the Wasters, thought to be almost uninhabited, and of Shane was lucky, radiation free. His arm had stopped bleeding, Shane has bandaged it with his shirt, the pain was extreme, and the adrenaline in his body was waning, he wasn’t sure how much further he could go without stopping. He wanted to leave NewBrun as quick as possible, Make it to Bek, hopefully he’d be able to find a vehicle, maybe someone to help him. But for now he was alone, and exhausted.

After what seemed like days, Shane found a house that didn’t look like it had been looted by Vagrants or Wasters, and it might even have proper bandages and water, he hadn’t had anything to drink or eat all day. He approached the house, and tried the door, it opened. Shane sent a quick prayer to the gods and peered into the house, it looked deserted. The previous occupants had most likely been captured after the bombs dropped by the occupiers. Shane shuddered as he thought about what ever fate had befallen the original owners.

A quick search of the kitchen cabinets provided bottled water, a can of tomato paste, and a small first aid kit, with just enough stuff to bandage himself. The events of The last few hours began to go through his head, an attack on the compound, the strongest settlement in NewBrun, a masked waster with a brutal club who had the ability to unite the Wasters, and his narrow escape. Without a home, without people to live around, Shane wasn’t sure what he would do once he got to the west. He was never a leader in the compound, he just did his assigned job and got his rations, a living ghost he called himself. There but not really there, most likely forgotten after his death. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t stay in NewBrun, his life here was over. Whether he liked it or not, the west was his only hope for survival.

“One thing at a time Shane, let’s find you a place to sleep for the night.” He told himself after he finished the can of tomato paste and water. A through inspection of the house provided Shane with a decent knife and backpack to carry his provisions in. Settling in to a bed he found in the second floor of the house, Shane thought once more about the Masked Waster, and what it represented for the wasteland.

Chapter 3

He was having the dream again, this time he could almost make out the faces of the family he dreamt about. There wasn’t a voice to wake him up this time though, just the cold winds of the late autumn morning. The winds cut through the houses thin walls, waking Shane to the grim reality he was stuck in. He crawled out of the bed, already wishing he could get back in it to avoid the harshness of the wind. Shane was begging to regret using his only shirt as a bandage, he hadn’t found one the night before, only a thin sweater that barely fit him. A creaking noise distracted Shane, were they footsteps or just the wind? He quickly unsheathed the knife and gripped it in his uninjured hand.

“ is anyone there? I don’t want to hurt anyone, I’m just passing through.” Shane spoke outside the room. A lampshade fell behind him causing Shane to spin around just in time to see a shadowy figure bash him over the head with the butt of a rifle, knocking him out.

Chapter 4

Hands tied to a pipe above his head, Shane woke up to be greeted with a scarred, but still beautiful feminine face glaring at him.

“Who are you?” Asked the woman.

“ my names Shane, I’m a survivor of the compound attack. Where am I?” He replied, trying to peer around her and discern his surroundings. He looked to be inside a storm cellar. Maybe in the same house he thought.

“That doesn’t matter. You said you survived the compound attack, last I checked, there weren’t any. All the residents were killed in the initial Waster attack.”

“Well they missed one. What’s it to you?”

“Relax, I’m not one of them. The exact opposite actually. I just want to know about the leader. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“You can’t win, they’re unstoppable. You know how they fight in small packs. Fast, brutal, and merciless. Multiply that by 10 and make them smart, that’s what you’re facing. You can’t beat those monsters.” Shane spat into her face, anger rising in him.

The woman struck him across the face and spoke,

“You know nothing about me, I’ve survived the Blasts, the winters after it, and then the occupiers. I can do this, I just need to know what I’m up against!”

Shane was quiet for a moment, surprised by what he heard. Not many people had survived, the vast majority of them had either died or turned insane when the blasts happened. Those who turned insane banded together, forming what everyone calls the Wasters.

“So did I.” Shane replied, quieter this time.

“So you know how bad it was.”

“I do.”

“So tell me what I need to know.”

“ I don’t know his name, but I can tell you this. He’s huge, carries a giant club, and knows how to give orders.”

The woman pulled out the knife he had claimed as his own earlier, and cut him loose.

“Thanks for the information Shane, I’ll be seeing you.” After saying those words she turned around, tossed the knife on a nearby table, and left. Shane Massaged his wrists, a rope burn had formed a ring of bruised skin.

“You never told me your name.” Muttered Shane, after the mysterious woman had left, leaving more questions for Shane.

Shane stepped outside the storm cellar doors to try and figure out where he was. He wasn’t at the house he found the knife in, he was at a farmhouse, although long abandoned, he still ventured inside to look for supplies.

Immediately inside the farmhouse there was a table with a map. The map had a note attached to it and directions to a camp, deeper inside NewBrun. The note explained the map led to an the woman’s camp, and that it was safe there.

She can’t destroy the Wasters herself, she needs help. But I can’t help her, I’m a nobody. A coward.

Shane pulled out a dirty medal and tossed it in the air, if it landed face up he would go, face down and he’d continue to the west. The meal had belonged to his father, a veteran from the border skirmishes with the Alaskan Republic. Alaska had separated from the United States in the mid 2020s, and formed a republic with the Yukon. By the late 20s they started to become more hostile, with an attempted attack on upper British Columbia. The skirmish was quick, the Canadian military easily held off the Alaskan Fighters Militia. Although they lost the battle, the AFM had gotten itself recognized as an independent nation.

The soft ping of the medal landing brought Shane back to reality, he glanced down. The medal faced up.

“Well, time to get myself killed.” Shane sighed and left the farmhouse, taking the map with him.

Chapter 5

As a child, Shane didn’t understand everything that happened. He remembered the flashes of light and the tremors from the explosions, he remembered the Winter that lasted 4 years, and then the Occupiers. The Occupiers were the worst part, he didn’t know where they were from, just that they spoke a different language, wore terrifying masks that made them look as if they had giant protrusions from the face. They came to “help” restore the land and claim it for themselves.

They set up roadblocks along the most common routes that were still used and kidnapped people as they came through, claiming they were “rebels” and “unsympathetic” to the restoring of the Nation. These people were never seen from again. It caused rumours among the survivors that they were put through brutal experiments and when “used up,” they were executed and then disposed of. After his parents had been taken by them, he was deathly afraid of them, yet he had just came across one.

The roadblock was abandoned, they all were at this point. The fear was still there, Shane had lived his life afraid of the horrid experiments that were rumoured to have gone on inside them. However, he needed supplies and the map didn’t indicate any nearby villages. He was surrounded by forest, and the farmland he had left was void of any useful supplies, save for the knife and map.

You can do this, the Occupiers are gone now, Wiped out by the Wasters and Vagrants. You need these supplies.

Shane swallowed his fear and approached the tall, Grey, and imposing structures main door. Powered locks weren’t an issue. The power had gone out long ago, the Occupiers hadn’t worried about maintaining the plants round NewBrun, and relied on generators to power the roadblocks. Shane unsheathed the knife he had, and holding it in his uninjured arm, he took one last breath for courage and opened the door.

Rotting corpses. That was the first thing he smelled, he almost puked. Once he recovered himself, he looked around the dim room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The main room was a holding area, with multiple cells. Each of them filled with bodies swarming with flies. Shane gagged, he’d never seen so many bodies in one spot. On the far wall he noticed an opening, he went through it and it led to a hallway, filled with windowed doors that led to examination rooms and surgery rooms. He heard a rattle and jumped.

“Is anyone there?” Shane whispered.

Nothing responded.

Shane gripped his knife tighter, using it as a tool to calm him down, and carried on down the hallway, knees slightly bent to reduce his profile. He entered an examination room and was horrified by what he was.

A head, and a spine. That’s all he saw. Held up by string. The expression of the head was terror and pain, as if the poor soul was alive during the “procedure” that had separated the body from the spine and head. The body looked to have been tossed to the side, as if it were an extra piece in a building set, dried blood and a torn back the most visible features on it. Shane quickly searched the room, finding nothing of use. As he turned to leave the room, he slipped on a syringe and collapsed into the spine-Head, he screamed as the head landed facing his directly, as quickly as it happened, he threw it at the nearest wall and pushed himself up and threw himself out the door into the hallway.

Shane had no interest in finding out what other macabre experiments there were going on in this facility. Whatever the Occupiers had been doing down here can remain unknown for all he cared, he just wanted to find some supplies, maybe a gun, then leave and continue his fools errand. After saying a quick prayer for the corpse inside the room he continued, this time he ignored and door that looked like it belonged to an operating room.

Another clatter, paired with what sounded like murmuring.

“Whose there?” Asked Shane, the adrenaline levels in his body rising once again. No response, again. Still wary, Shane carried on down the hallway, knife in hand. The further he went down the hallway, the more cluttered it got. Gurneys and piles of trash were filling the hallway, forcing Shane to slow down and clear the gurneys so he could walk through. His efforts were rewarded with a door marked in the Occupiers language, Shane guessed it was the armoury and was about to enter it but was stopped by a whispering voice repeating the same words.

“It’s escaped the cage.”

Shane clutched his knife, and turned around. He was met with an extremely gaunt figure, it was as if the skin was stretched around the bones of the figure and nothing else. The human clearly had issues walking, it supported itself by “sitting” in a crouch, with its arms pressed against the floor, the sharp angles of the skeletal structure showing through.

“Who...what are you?” Shane asked the creature.

“ was.... Prisoner... Eat others... survive..” the creature rasped, it’s lungs visibly expanding when it spoke.

“You ate others? How long have you been here? Why haven’t you left?”

“ safe inside.... scientists left.... tasted good..” the creature emanated what could be described as a laugh, and started to approach Shane.

“Stay away, I don’t want to hurt you.” Shane threatened the creature, and raised his knife in order to protect himself.

The creature jumped at Shane, it’s tendril like fingers outstretched towards Shane’s face, Shane reacted by piercing the creatures exposed belly. The knife slid in with a sickening squelch, freezing the creature in its place. It gasped, and clutched at the knife and struggled to remove it.

“ I’m sorry.” Shane removed the knife, causing the creature to gasp again, then collapse. It died quickly, leaking an extremely thick blood like substance. Shane has just killed a human, it was the first time he had killed one. At the compound he was a hunter, and not a very good one either.

Shane vomited.