Kyle West - Apocalypse

They were hiding. We met no resistance as I opened fire.

My bullets connected, and the tank lit up like a torch. A giant mushroom of fire shot upward, forcing the downed Recon backward, causing it to roll on its top.

I jumped down from the turret as Makara joined me. I took out my handgun. It was time to finish the job.

As we wheeled around the vehicle, we found both Brux and his crony lying on the ground. The crony lifted a pistol. I shot him dead before he had the chance to fire. He went limp, and relaxed against the earth.

Brux was a few feet off, his skin cracked and charred. His entire body was shaking. He reached for his gun, just a few feet off. Makara kicked it far away.

“Ma…Makara…” Brux said, lifting an arm in surrender.

Behind us, the fire of our improvised bomb still crackled. It was nowhere near this Recon’s hydrogen tank, so we were safe for now.

Makara walked by his head, pointing her gun down. “Don’t try anything, Brux. You’ve had your time to try.”

“I…I won’t. Please…have mercy on me, Makara. I’m sorry. Take me back to Bluff…I’ll give you money, anything you want.”

Makara scowled as her eyes considered. Surely, she couldn’t be…

Bam .

The bullet went right into Brux’s forehead. His entire body stiffened, then was still. His vacant eyes stared upward.

The wind blew cold as Makara spat on his face.

“Come on,” she said. “We need to rescue that other tank.”

I followed Makara into the upside down Recon. Thankfully, the cargo bay had been left wide open. Together, we removed the tank. Hydrogen gas hissed into the air from the fuel line. It would only be moments before it connected with the flames not too far away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Makara said.

We jumped out of the Recon and ran back uphill, lugging the tank with us. As we reached our own vehicle, the downed Recon ignited, booming off the nearby mountainside. I could feel its heat licking at my back.

We went back into the cargo bay. While Makara installed the new tank and connected it to the fuel line, I made sure Samuel was alright. The bleeding had slowed, but his face was pale. If he did not get medical attention soon, the bullet would eventually take his life.

Makara finished making the connections, and nodded. She put a hand on Samuel’s shoulder.

Samuel forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Humph.” She looked toward me. “Let’s get him up front.”

Makara and I moved him to the passenger’s seat. As Makara slid to the driver’s side, I sat in the middle.

“You’re in charge of watching him,” Makara said. “Let’s hope she starts up.”

Makara turned the key, and the engine roared to life. As soon as I heard the engine idle, and the pressure tank hum, I knew what her name would be.

“Khloe,” I said.

Makara raised an eyebrow. “Khloe? That’s not a tough name for a Recon.”

“You’re wrong. It’s the toughest name I know.”

She looked at me for a moment, and then nodded. “Khloe it is, then.”

Samuel’s eyes closed as Makara drove Khloe east. In the side mirror, I could see the fires of the downed Recon burn brightly.

We sped across the flat Wasteland, Cold Mountain a mass behind us.

On our left, I could see a couple of infected wolves feeding on the body of a fallen antelope. As we passed, they sped after us, oblivious of any danger to themselves. We quickly left them in our dust.

I shook my head. “The first normal animal I see ends up being eaten by some infected wolves. Figures.”

From beside us, Samuel was still.

“Is he alright?” I asked.

Makara watched him for a moment. “Let him rest. He will need it.”

“He needs medical attention.”

“You think I don’t know that? We will be there by tonight.”

“Where?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Oh no. Not Oasis.”

“Guess again.”

I thought about it, but nothing came to mind. Surely not L.A.. That was too far. But where else could she…

Then, Samuel spoke, his voice raspy.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to Raider Bluff, little sister.”

Makara smiled grimly. “It’s the homecoming we’ve all been waiting for. I have a favor to call in.”

“What?” I asked. “You’re not serious…”

“It’s the only place I know with a doctor,” Makara said. “I don’t like it, but it’s the only option.”

The cab was quiet for a moment. Finally, Samuel gave a long, tired sigh.

“Lead on, then.”

I thought we were out of the fire, but now, we were going into the furnace. Makara stepped on the gas, as if to defiantly meet that inevitability.

We surged ahead. As I watched the Wasteland pass, even as we made enormous speed, Cheyenne Mountain and Bunker One had never seemed farther away.

Kyle West is a science fiction author living in Oklahoma City. He is currently working on The Wasteland Chronicles series, of which there will be seven installments. Books 2 and 3 are already available. Find out immediately when his next book is released by signing up for The Wasteland Chronicles Mailing List.

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Samuel was dying.

We had left Bunker 114 and Cold Mountain behind hours ago and darkness cloaked the Wasteland. As we sped east toward Raider Bluff, I wondered if Brux's parting shot meant our mission had failed before it even began.

Samuel’s eyes had remained closed for almost the entire journey. Wet blood soaked his right shoulder. The congealing agent had slowed the bleeding somewhat, but he wouldn't last for long. We had to find someone who could remove the bullet and stop the bleeding. If we couldn’t, either Makara or I would have to do it.

The Recon’s bright blue lights pushed back the night, letting us to see ahead in a wide arc. Thirty years of red dust covered most parts of the highway. We zoomed past decrepit buildings, ghost towns, and mangled road signs, the skeletal remains of Ragnarok.

Makara was going as fast as the heavy Recon would go – about fifty five miles per hour, the wheels churning to get us to our destination.

I just didn’t know if it was fast enough.

When the highway turned south, I could see on our left a wide dark river, flowing south.

“We hit the Colorado,” Makara said.

It was more water than I’d ever seen in my life. I’d read about the Colorado River in the Bunker 108 archive. It had once been an important river in the Old World, but overuse had dried it up. Now, the river was wide, so wide, in fact, that I couldn’t see the other side in the darkness. Above the river on the opposite bank, high up, I could see the city. Raider Bluff’s yellow lights glowed dimly with distance, almost unmoving even with the Recon’s speed.

At last, the road turned left, toward the river. I could see a bridge of tall arches spanning the water.

“Silver Arched Bridge,” Makara said. “The only crossing for miles.”

The giant rungs of the arch stretched from shore to shore with the road running straight underneath. The road itself was almost even with the river - maybe just ten feet above it. The pressure from the current must be enormous. Two raiders with rifles guarded the bridge's front.

“Let me do the talking,” Makara said.

We pulled up, and Makara rolled down her window.

A hard-faced, grizzled man peered inside. His eyes widened upon seeing who was driving.

“Makara?”

“Chris, step aside. I have a wounded man in here who will die without medical attention.”