Wasteland Angel (A World After Novella)

Wasteland Angel

  J.G. Martin

  Copyright 2014 by J.G. Martin

  Chapter 1

  June 6, 2029

  Near the Colorado-Wyoming Border

  The man had appeared out of the wastes like a guardian angel in their time of need. He didn’t look like an angel. His beard was long and shaggy, as was his hair. He looked dusty and worn and unimpressive, but not dirty. The red t-shirt he was wearing under his camouflage jacket said Born to Fight on the front, and he proved that quickly.

  The filthy bikers had forced the family’s SUV off of the road and roughly dragged Mom and Dad from the car. One had Dad pinned up against the car and was holding him in place by his throat. He looked terrified and helpless as the other two began tearing Mom’s clothes off. They were laughing and generally enjoying themselves while Mom screamed in terror.

  My little brother Timmy was crying, and I was screaming at them to stop; but they just laughed and continued assaulting Mom. Both of my parents were pacifists and neither one had any self-defense skills or desire to learn them. I later learned it was a miracle we had survived as long as we had. People unwilling to defend themselves or people who didn’t believe in violence had been among the first victims of the Collapse and the Aftermath.

  But the man from the wastes hadn’t had any problem with violence. He had gunned down the bestial bikers without any hesitation or remorse, and then slit their throats to make sure they were dead. Mom and Dad had been very ungrateful. Mom had screamed hateful things at him, calling him a murderer and a monster. The man had covered her mouth to stop her ranting and simply told her how it was.

  “Kill or be killed. That is the first rule of the wasteland. If you don’t start following it, you will all be dead. Now get in your car and get out of here. You make me sick.” He had coldly informed her.

  They had grown up in a small enclave in the West Virginia portion of the Appalachian Mountains amongst other pacifists and hippies, so Minerva had never seen death or experienced any violence. She had been born just prior to the Collapse and had never watched TV or been to a movie. All of the books they read were handpicked by the leader of their small group. She had heard whispers of guns and killing, and of rape and murder, prior to them leaving the enclave; but had never witnessed them.

  The U.S.T.G. expansion into West Virginia had finally gotten too close for her parent’s comfort and they had decided to relocate across country to get away from the “fascist pigs” as her mother had called them. The enclave had already been shrinking for years as people had died or left and no one new had replaced them. The remaining others had decided to accept a U.S.T.G. offer to join a mining community nearby and the enclave would basically be abandoned.

  So they had gotten in their SUV, which her father had lovingly maintained all these years, and headed to the Rockies where they had been told another commune existed. They had driven day and night with mom and dad taking turns. They had refueled from the drums of gasoline they kept in the back, so they hadn’t stopped until the bikers had run them off the road.

  Curiosity made Minerva move closer to the man who had saved them. He was going through the pockets of the men he had just killed. The fact that they were dead didn’t seem to bother him in the least. After a minute he had noticed her watching him and held out a small revolver he had taken from one of the dead bikers. She had taken it without any hesitation. A brief look back assured her that neither her parents nor her brother had seen the exchange; and she hid the pistol in her jacket pocket.

  No words were exchanged with the man, and he never gave his name. She simply nodded and then turned to get back in the car. Years later she would learn his name was Derek Storm and that he was a legend in the wasteland. But at the time he was simply their savior and his intervention was a crucial turning point in her life. She had learned the rest of the rules that came after kill or be killed, and had dedicated her life to saving others as she had been saved.