Boneyards & Badlands: The Complete FTW Series Page 3

  But the rats are always here, and there’s nothing they like more than a fresh kill they can cook and eat.

  I take my time and sneak around as quietly as I can. The rats are usually busy this time of morning so they’ll be at their machines, but I’m not one to take chances.

  It doesn’t take me long to find the fresh piles of garbage the drones dumped this morning. Since I haven’t encountered any rats around I head over to the closest pile and check out the fresh pickings.

  From what’s on the top it looks like a load of busted electronics, which is good news for me.

  There’s always choice pickings available with this kind of garbage, and most of it looks pretty high end which means-

  “Looky what we got here, boys. Aint she a pretty one?”

  Oh no.

  7 - Please

  After about ten minutes of walking, I’m getting close to the piles where I’m expecting to find Kara. The path I’m on is perfectly aligned with the sun and I lose myself in the warming rays as I walk.

  Around a bend in the path I’m jolted from my daydreaming when a group of four men run up the side of the garbage pile in front of me.

  It takes a second for my brain to scream “DANGER!” but when it does I dive for cover behind the nearest pile of scrap metal. They are way too clean for scrappers, so definitely hounds.

  They’re running upwards and away from me though so I’m out of their sight. When they get to the top of the pile one of them waves a small plastic box in the air, similar to the one I found yesterday.

  After a few moments of doing this he stops, then talks and laughs with his friends. He’s only dressed from the waist down and on his back he has a large tattoo of a howling dogs head.

  I’ve never seen a tattoo so large. The type people get in the boneyard are made with pins and black soot so they’re usually kind of small.

  One of the hounds waiting on top of the pile points into the sky and when I look there’s a garbage drone on the way in.

  Every instinct in my body wants to shout a warning they’re about to get buried in garbage, but if I expose myself to the hounds, I won’t be as lucky as yesterday.

  When the garbage drone draws near instead of dumping trash, it lowers itself to within a few feet of the top of the pile and a hatch on the side opens.

  Once all four of the hounds have pulled themselves inside, the hatch closes and the drone flies away.

  So that’s how they get in and out of here. More importantly, they’ve shown me how to escape this place.

  It’s only then I remember I trashed one of those devices yesterday, and by the looks of things the only way to get one would be to get uncomfortably close to a live hound again.

  Once the drone is out of sight I pull myself upright and a wave of panic surges through me. In my terror I forgot why I had come this way. I was looking for Kara, and the hounds have just left where I expected to find her.

  “Damn it!” I yell and sprint my way along the path, looking for any of Kara’s secret markings on the piles.

  On the pile the hounds vacated moments ago there’s a circle with an “X” inside which is Kara’s symbol for “tunnel”. The right-hand side of the “X” is shaded slightly darker than the left, so there’s a tunnel to the right.

  I follow the pile of garbage until I find a rear door of an aircar. It’s covered in dirt except for a few clean parts shaped like handprints, so it must be the entrance.

  I grab at the door and pull it upwards and the tunnel reveals itself.

  It’s very much like the one I crawled through yesterday, but as I reach the end, I find it leads through to the other side.

  When I get there my heart sinks and my world momentarily turns black.

  In the middle of the path, lying in a pool of blood like a piece of discarded rubbish is Kara. Her clothes are torn away, and she’s covered in blood.

  I race to her side, praying to anyone who will listen that she’s alive.

  I drop to my knees and scoop her into my arms while tears pour from my eyes. With a free hand I wipe blood from her face and her eyes look vacantly back at me.

  On her forehead there is a ring of blackened burn marks. I don’t know what could have caused those.

  “Please, Kara, please wake up,” I plead. “Please don’t leave me like this.”

  I run my hand over her forehead and wipe away the blood and she coughs up more of it onto my shirt then draws a breath.

  “Kara, please hold on. I’ll get you home and Nimah will fix you up,” I say sniffing and trying to stop myself from crying. “She can always make it better.”

  Kara looks into my eyes and a small smile pulls at one side of her face.

  “Echo,” she says through coughs of blood, “please know I love you. I always will.”

  “Of course I do, Kara. I love you too. Please don’t you dare die on me, I need you.”

  As I look at her face, it becomes clear how much the pool of blood has spread beneath us. Across her stomach the hounds have carved a foot-long gash into her, but Kara is no longer bleeding.

  I wipe her face once more but she doesn’t respond to my touch. A tear rolls down her cheek leaving a trail of unbloodied skin in its wake.

  “No!” I scream at the sky.

  I hold her in my arms for hours, crying uncontrollably over her lifeless body. The one good thing in this entire place, the person I loved more than life itself and they took her from me.

  Eventually my tears subside and I can think rationally for a moment. I can’t leave her here in this pool of her own blood for the rats to eat, so I scoop an arm under her legs and lift her body as I stand.

  By the time I’m nearing our camp the word has spread. People run out and offer to help carry Kara for me. I ignore them all even though my arms and legs are burning from the effort.

  There is no way in hell I’m putting her down.

  As I stumble into our camp, the whole family has come out to meet me. Their heads are bowed and most of them are crying.

  Not only was Kara part of the family but everyone here loved her. She had an infectious spirit for enjoying the hell out of life, even in this hole we call home.

  I gently set her down next to the fire and I kneel beside her once again. She looks so at peace which is weird. It’s such as stark contrast to the violence that brought about her death.

  I lean forward and place a kiss on her forehead and whisper to her I will make those who did this pay.

  Nimah places a hand on my shoulder and then helps me to my feet. She doesn’t say a word but leads me off to one side of the camp and cradles me in her arms.

  We stay like that for ages, watching as the other family members build a pyre.

  The next week for me passes in a haze. People come and talk with me, trying to console me. I hear their words and even talk with them, but I remember none of it.

  My only memory is of Kara dying in my arms.

  I wake early one morning and my head is clearer. While I still grieve for Kara, the despair that gripped my soul has eased I can think a little more clearly, and I remember the promise I made to her.

  I stand up and wiping the last of the sleep from my eyes I exit my hut, the small enclave I’ve carved out from the piles of garbage surrounding us, and look out across the expanse of our camp.

  Other members of my family are awake and sitting around the fire, and I consider saying goodbye to them because this may be the last time I ever see them.

  I don’t know how any of what I’m about to do will go down, I’m not sure it’s even possible yet, but there are two people in this place who can come and go as they please, so they’re the ones I need to talk to.

  In the end I choose not to say goodbye because they’ll probably try to stop me from going.

  Before leaving I re-enter my hut and retrieve the protein bar I received for my birthday and check my knife is secure in my boot. Without looking back I sneak out of camp and into the garbage piles.

  The do
or to the Bitza brothers workshop jingles merrily as I enter and for the first time I want to rip it from its mount at throw it into the piles of garbage outside.

  When Bosco and Bishop appear with their usual act of pretending to be each other, I change my mind and want to throw it at them.

  They pick up on my mood when I glare at them from the doorway and they drop the act.

  “Echo, we’ve never seen you like this. What is wrong?” asks Bishop.

  “What is wrong? Hounds have murder Kara, that is what the hell is wrong. People from your world who come and go as they please. They rape us, murder us, then leave laughing back to your perfect frigging world,” I say, spitting my words at them while tears well in my eyes and threaten to break me again.

  Both of their faces drop and they steady themselves against the counter. It’s obvious now they didn’t know but I don’t feel bad for directing my venom at them. It’s their world that did this.

  “She’s really gone?” asks Bishop.

  I nod, worried if I talk now I might say something I regret. With a sigh I shuffle forwards into their workshop and slump against their counter, and they each put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Is there anything we can do?” asks Bosco.

  I look him the eyes when I reply.

  “I need a way out, and you guys are going to help me.”

  Bosco looks to Bishop then back at me.

  “It’s not possible, Echo. The safeguards through these doors,” he indicates with a thumb over his shoulder to the doors behind him, “cannot be circumvented. There are people monitoring the passageway and they won’t hesitate to kill anyone not authorized to enter.”

  “That’s not the only way through the wall,” I say and point to the conveyor belt.

  “Are you mad? There’s no way you’ll survive, you’ll be cooked alive,” Bishop shouts at me.

  “But they’re yours. Can’t you turn off the burners?”

  “No, they come on automatically when the hatch opens. The only time they’re ever offline is when we swap out the gas.”

  “So if I was to open the door while you were swapping it out I’d be safe?”

  “Hardly,” Bosco says, “even that process is automated. It takes the machines less than ten seconds to swap everything over, and they relight immediately when they’re done to test the lines.”

  I look into the scratched countertop at my own distorted reflection and my resolve hardens.

  “It’s the only way. The only other way I have seen is certain death, at least this way I have a chance.”

  “Are you really this keen to sacrifice your life?” Bishop asks.

  “For Kara, yes. I owe it to her.”

  “Revenge won’t bring her back, and it rarely makes anyone feel better.”

  “I don’t care,” I reply and slam my fists on the countertop. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  I look directly at Bishop and hope his love for Kara will sway his decision.

  He nods and says, “Yes, of course. Bosco, lock the door. We’ve got some things we need to discuss in private.”

  The rest of the day passes incredibly slowly while I wait for night to come.

  I spend most of the time between disinterestedly picking through garbage piles and staring at the huge wall which surrounds us.

  There is no mistaking who built it.

  Like everything else in this world it’s stamped with the FTW logo, though seeing it on the wall drives it home harder than most.

  The FTW logo repeats along its length every nine yards, so wherever you look you’re forced to see it.

  Someone, long ago based on how faded the paint is, added their own feelings to the logos closest to the ground.

  They now read:

  Earlier, when Bosco had locked the door we discussed how the plan would go down. In the evening they’ll schedule the maintenance bots to swap the gas lines.

  Bosco will leave early so there isn’t anyone watching the shop while Bishop monitors the swap on the maintenance panel.

  When the gas gets disconnected he’ll cough, which will be my signal to open the hatch and crawl as fast as possible along the conveyor.

  My experience crawling through piles of scrap should make this a cinch, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a tiny piece of me that worried about the journey.

  Once I’m on the other side they’ve told me what to expect and which direction I need to go, but as soon as I’m out of their workshop I’ll be on my own.

  They can’t risk being caught helping me or they’ll be executed on the spot.

  Night time comes and the final hour before my escape is here. The time drags by, but finally Bosco slaps his brother on the shoulder and then exits the workshop through the doors in the rear.

  Being a little paranoid I glance over my shoulders before I move towards their workshop. Finding myself alone, I gather the courage to walk the short distance to their door.

  When I enter, Bishop has his head turned from me and is looking intently at the maintenance panel. He makes no move to acknowledge my presence.

  I sneak my way over to the conveyor hatch and hold my breath.

  Seconds tick by but eventually Bishop holds a hand to his mouth and coughs. I pull the hatch open and dive into the darkened tunnel.

  I can scarcely believe I’m doing this. My arms and legs go to work and push me along to freedom.

  I stop when something behind me clicks. I’m about five feet from the end of the tunnel. Bishop warned me the clicking means the burners are trying to light to test the gas line.

  I chance a look back over my shoulder. There aren’t any flames. I relax a little and crawl forward, but something is grabbing at my leg.

  The laces of my right boot have snagged on a gas jet. They’re holding me in place. The gas jets continue their incessant clicking. Panic grips me.

  I pull my leg harder, trying to yank myself free or snap the laces on my boot. Neither works. From the end nearest the hatch I entered through a flame burst from a gas jet as the clicking finds something to light.

  With each click the next jet in line bursts into life. My brain is flooded with visions of being burned alive in this tunnel.

  My boot clinks when it hits the jet. Of course, my knife! I grab it and hack at my laces.

  The gas jets are lighting faster now and getting closer. Finally the lace snaps and I’m free! I turn and pull my foot away from the gas jet just as flame burst out.

  The final five feet looks like a mile but I’ve got no chance to think and scramble myself forward with everything I have.

  It’s getting hot in the tunnel now with most of the burners working, and for every inch I travel another burner is lighting up behind me.

  I tumble out of the tunnel as the last of the burners lights. It scorches my boot but not enough to set it on fire and I am free.

  I rest and catch my breath for a few moments, savoring the moment. It’s funny, I expected somehow for the air to smell different on this side, but it’s the same.

  Even the workshop I find myself in looks identical to the one I left, and I have a moment of self-doubt when I worry if somehow I got turned around in the tunnel.

  There are subtle differences though, in particular Bishop’s absence. I stand up and dust myself off, then look through the glass door of the shop and it’s obvious I’m on the other side.

  There isn’t a single pile of garbage anywhere. Instead there’s what looks like a long, straight path which I remember Bosco explaining is called a road.

  Next to the workshop door is a small pile of clothes the Bitzas have left for me. They told me there’s no way I’d go unnoticed wearing the clothes I normally wear.

  Since there is no one around I strip out of my clothes and pull open the plastic bags containing the new ones. The fabric they’re made from is so clean I almost don’t want to put them on and spoil them.

  My old, dirty clothes sit in a sad little heap on the floor. If someone found them in the wo
rkshop it might get the Bitzas in trouble, so I gather them up and toss them into the conveyor tunnel. The clothes catch fire and quickly turn to ash.

  With that out of the way, I venture out into the world I’ve only ever pictured in my dreams.

  8 - Vacant

  Bosco told me on this side people rarely go down to the ground level, and many buildings didn’t even have a way to get outside even if you wanted to.

  It found it hard to believe, but he told me most people will be born, live, and die inside the buildings that tower over us without ever leaving them.

  Every building is connected to the next by glass-encased walkways. I imagine that from space it must look like earth is covered in a gigantic spider’s web, but from down on the ground the scale just looks terrifying.

  Standing here on a vacant road I find I’m feeling sorry for the people who live their lives in these buildings.

  At least in the boneyard I was in the real world, even with the horribleness it can bring. I could lie down and look at the sky or the stars and breathe the open air.

  No matter what they do to us, clean air is something we all have in common. When FTW stripped the lands to build cities like this all over the planet they took away nature’s ability to clean the air, so they replaced it with air scrubbers.

  Nimah explained it to me when I was a kid and I remember it sounded like some kind of magic. She pointed to the tops of each building at the large, cylindrical things with fan blades inside them.

  She explained they suck in the bad air, scrub out the pollutants then release clean air on the other side.

  If it wasn’t for the air scrubbers everyone on Earth would have choked to death decades ago. This was the main reason FTW became the most powerful force on the planet.

  They control the air, so they control life.

  There isn’t much light down here at ground level, with most of it coming from inside the buildings. I stick to the shadows closest to the walls of the building, sneaking slowly past them.