Kyle West - Revelation

It’s been three months since the fall of Bunker 108. In that time, I’ve survived raiders, gangs, empires, cold, hunger, and monsters. By all rights, I should be dead. We all should be. It seems impossible that we aren’t. Impossible that we are still fighting this.

I just wonder how much longer we can last.

The odds are stacked against us. At every turn, the xenovirus gets more deadly. The number of Blights in the Wasteland has tripled. The monsters it creates are more dangerous. Crawlers roam the dark, cold nights in packs, killing any they find. Anyone without a wall, without a home, is as good as dead.

The Great Blight has expanded one hundred miles further west over the past two months alone — a rate which will see the entire Wasteland covered by this time next year.

And, somehow, we are expected to stop all this. The four of us are expected to be the world’s saviors. We are all too young for this job. I’m sixteen. Makara is nineteen, Samuel twenty-three, and Anna is seventeen. That’s too much weight to rest on our shoulders — hell, too much weight for anyone’s shoulders. Maybe, we aren’t kids anymore. Responsibility is enough to make an adult of anyone.

As leader of the New Angels, Makara is now in charge of the group. Samuel still leads the mission against the Great Blight, but as far as building the group, Makara calls the shots. First on her agenda is finding the Exiles, Marcus’s gang, somewhere in the Boundless. After we find them, they can lead us to the Raiders. Or at least, that’s what we hope.

With the fall of Raider Bluff to the xenoswarm, we could only hope that’d been Char’s thought process. Overrun by crawlers and Howlers and worse besides, we could only hope he had laid down his pride to seek the help of the brother he’d exiled over a decade before.

This is no longer a time for enmity and blood. The power of the Great Blight grows by the day, and the Great Dragon of Raider Bluff has yet to make his next move.

Yes — two months after we had left it, the Wasteland is a far more dangerous place. And the Wasteland is only the beginning. If we do not find some way to stop the Great Blight, the entire world will be swallowed by it.

With Raider Bluff gone, it makes sense for Vegas to be next on the Great Blight’s list. That city is the closest to the Great Blight, and that’s where all our roads lead — whether we are Angel, Exile, or Raider. With the alliance between Augustus of the Empire and Carin Black of Los Angeles, it’s up to us to grab whoever is left and take the fight to Los Angeles — taking out Carin Black before Augustus can arrive with his legions — before the worst of winter is upon us.

But before we can do that, we have to find the Exiles. We have to find the Raiders.

It is our newest challenge. It is hard to tell whether this will be easier, or harder, than what we did in the Empire. Now back in the cold, bare reality of the Wasteland, I have a feeling it will be harder. Our mission is getting a bunch of people who don’t like each other to work together. We have to convince them to leave the safety of their walls, strike out across the Wasteland in the dead of winter, and take out Black and the Reapers before Augustus arrives.

We have about two months to do it. Augustus’s army is far — but it could be here in as soon as two months. Winter might help us, but we are planning for the worst. Our success as a group depends on being prepared for the worst. Augustus said he was going to be here in two months. We will take him at his word.

Even if such preparation seems impossible, we have to try. The entire world, literally, depends on it.

I would say it is a lot of pressure, but we are used to that by now. We are a well-honed team. We each know our strengths and weaknesses. We have two spaceships at our disposal, meaning we can jump between points quickly.

Even though we have new capabilities, so does the xenoswarm. The dragons are a game-changer that none of us could have predicted, and I’m sure they’re not the last thing the Great Blight will throw at us.

First, we have to deal with the human opposition. Until everyone is standing together and on the same page, we can’t make our attack on the Great Blight. We can’t even protect ourselves from Augustus and Carin Black. If we do not unite, and unite soon, everything will fall.

And that’s exactly what the Voice in Ragnarok Crater wants.

Makara was still flying. It was night, and Odin hummed all round us, sailing through the air at three hundred miles an hour. She stared ahead as if her willpower alone could pierce the veil of darkness cloaking the Boundless below. Everyone else was sleeping. Anna dozed in the copilot’s chair, her head tilted to the side. Makara did nothing to wake her, taking the burden of both piloting and copiloting upon herself. It was very Makara-like.

Behind his sister, Samuel also slept. I was fighting my own battle with weariness, a battle I was sure to lose. It was two in the morning, and Makara had yet to cease her search for Marcus and the Exiles. This had been the story of the last three days, and still her reddened eyes scanned the desert floor with Odin’s two floodlights, revealing nothing but dune, hill, mesa, and the sudden pink of a patch of xenofungus. Periodically, Makara glanced at the LCD, which displayed topography, speed, and Odin’s location. We were somewhere in central Arizona.

I felt it was all useless. This time-consuming search was eating away at us all, and we could only take so much before it was time to examine other options. Samuel had told Anna and me as much in private earlier today. He dared not tell Makara; not yet. And with each day that passed with no results, no clues, she became edgier.

She still believed the Wanderer had wanted her to search here, when all seemed lost. And certainly, everything did seem lost. It was the four of us, and Ashton, expecting to stop an entire army that would soon be thundering its way north. And not only that army, but the army of xenolife readying itself to strike from the east. Everything depended on swelling our ranks, and all of us could feel the clock ticking.

With a curse, Makara leaned back in her chair. She sighed, shutting her eyes. It was the first time she had broken her concentration for hours. Odin flew on in a straight line, due east, about a thousand feet above the surface.

I closed my own eyes. My conscious mind faded under the weight of drowsiness. Makara’s voice snapped me to attention.

“Let’s call it a night.”

She slammed the controls, the sudden sound doing nothing to wake either Samuel or Anna. Out in the Wastes, both of them would have been up in a heartbeat at the disturbance. But Odin was a safe place, and there were allowances here that didn’t exist on the surface. Makara returned to the controls, angling the ship toward the surface. Again, the change in trajectory did nothing to shake either Samuel or Anna from their slumber. How I was still awake, I didn’t know. Even a week out of Nova Roma, I was exhausted from the entire ordeal. Makara’s side, which had been injured in the Coleseo , was still tender, but healing. But our time in the Empire had taken it out of all of us.

I would have thought sitting all day in a ship would be relaxing, but it wasn’t. We had to stay alert, for either the Exiles, the Raiders, or the ever-present threat of the xenodragons. None of those had ambushed us — at least, not yet — but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t at some point.