RULE #21

People are not your enemy. But don’t trust them either. And always, ALWAYS, check for signs of a plague!

~ The Scavenger’s Handbook

Sector 6 wasn’t anything special at a glance. The same gutted husk of tall residential buildings. The same streets clogged with the rust-covered rotting remains of vehicles. Even the same withering bones of people long dead, that can be found in any other of the Sectors. Grey was willing to bet that an identical scene would greet him if one day he went to one of the other mega-cities that he had read about. That was if any of them still existed. For all he knew, this could be the only one to have survived the end of the world in a semi-intact condition. Or it could be the only one that got destroyed and the inhabitants of the other ones were laughing at the stupidity of those who continued to try to survive in the remains of Arrê. However, this kind of discussion was better left for when in good company with a free stiff drink.

That said, Grey knew very well that claiming the Sectors to be identical, was also wrong. Few, even amongst the Scavengers, could wrap it in their head that each Sector was designed with a specific function in mind. The ones like 3, 4 and 5 were meant as purely residential ones. As such it made a lot of sense that they were clogged with enormous apartment buildings that stretched for hundreds of meters on each side of the wide streets. On the opposite end were Sectors like 16, 25 and 32 which were predominantly industrial buildings and vast plants that most likely produced everything the people of the mega-city could want. And then there was Sector 1 which was one huge airport, train station, floating city docking station, subway station, bus depot and who knew what else. All carefully mangled into one impossible large building which covered the entire Sector.

It was precisely because of this specialisation, that Grey considered number 6 a waste of time. Although near its walls, it boasted the same ruined residential buildings as any other place in this forsaken city, its interior was dedicated to sprawling shopping malls, storehouses and the likes. In other words, whatever of value could be found in Sector 6 was plundered a long time ago. That didn’t mean that there weren’t plenty of places that weren’t explored, but the chances of finding essentials such as canned food and clean water were close to zero. Not that such knowledge prevented wannabe Scavengers or those that lacked the years of experience Grey had, to try their luck scrounging the ruined shops for anything of value. But for him, and the handful with a functioning brain, the effort wasn’t worth the bullets.

At the same time, it is also wrong to say that this made Sector 6 a safe one. In reality, this place was a magnitude more dangerous than the area around Véi Dron and the Park combined. The expansive network of underground tunnels, collapsed bridges, long-abandoned shelters and pretty much any nook and cranny had become the ideal breeding ground for mutants. Both animal and humanlike. And if one was especially unfortunate, they could run into one of the many robots who stood motionless in the shadows waiting for a human to pass near them. Grey couldn’t say why the machines behaved in such a way, but after meeting Caesar, he had a working theory or two. Either of which was a fresh source of nightmares for his dreams.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Grey commanded the group of teenagers following him out of the service tunnel beneath the wall separating Sector 6 and the Park. “You see anything move, you warn everyone and scramble for cover. Shoot, only if shot at. Or if something, or someone, jumps at you. You ask questions after that.”

He looked at Cake, making sure that she understood that last part didn’t include her. The poor girl looked tired as Hell, and he couldn’t blame her. She had barely gotten a couple of hours of sleep between all the crying, apologising and cursing. Hopefully, it was worth it and he had managed to get through to her. There was a lot the two of them had to work on, but it was as good a start as Grey could have hoped for. More so, considering the alternative was putting a bullet in the back of her head.

“Ideally, I would have liked us to move through this neighbourhood during the night,” Grey continued, “however, that’s not an option anymore. So, if you value your lives, be extra careful.” He then nodded at Cake. “You stay no more than six feet away from me.”

“Sure. Whatever,” the girl answered with a yawn and flicked the safety switch of her F305, putting the weapon into a single-shot mode. He knew she was imitating what he had done with his AK-24C a moment ago but was glad to see that Cake was paying attention. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said about the pretend-soldiers around them. Although they were attentive and had fanned out almost like proper soldiers, their weapons were coated in a thick layer of dirt, wet foliage and scraped moss from their trek through the park. It would be a miracle if one of those laser rifles could fire in such a state. There was also the option that Grey was wrong, but he doubted that.

“Damn it, Maité!” He grabbed the young woman by the elbow and spun her around so that she looked at him. The veteran Scavenger hadn’t chosen her or anything like that. She so happened to be the closest of the tourists. “Tell your people to clean their weapons. I’m not stopping to help anyone out there. Anyone gets wounded and can’t keep up, gets left behind.”

With that, he waved to Cake to get moving. The Axion brats could complain all they liked, but they were guests in this place, and they needed to learn the harsh rules. Something they clearly struggled to do, while their group weaved between the rusty husk cluttering the wide street. Unlike the other Sectors they had passed through, here no one had bothered to remove the corpses from what were once vehicles. As a result, one or more skeletal remains could be seen in any of the cars, vans and busses, regardless if they were turned on their side, mangled and fused into one another or just waiting in the seemingly endless column. One of the reasons was that there were no locals to speak of, and the few brave souls that dared call this place home, were far busier trying to survive than bother giving the dead a proper burial.

Of course, it was obvious that not all overturned vehicles were a result of the end of the world. Some showed signs to have been used as improvised barricades and walls to guard temporary camps. While others were moved simply to make way for people to move between them. Well, people or anything humanlike at least. What bothered Grey with each passing hour, was the fact that the group of Axion teens was sticking out like a necrotic thumb, with their glistening white armour, and the flashing lights on their weapons and backpacks. To make matters worse, the filtered sunlight that made its way through the dusty glass of the dome above them was reducing the available shadows with each passing minute. At this point, it would make little difference if they were walking while ringing a dinner bell. But that was the least of Grey’s worries because after they crossed the next junction on top of the upcoming hill, the ruined buildings would give way for the parking lot of the first of the gargantuan shopping malls.

“Should’ve told them to bring a souse and napkins,” Cake gave voice to his thoughts. She stopped and gave Grey a conspiratory look. “What’re we going to do about the DS Store?”

“I don’t know,” the veteran Scavenger answered honestly, stopping long enough to take a sip of water from the flask stuffed into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Wait a minute! When have you been to the DS Store?”

“I haven’t,” Cake was quick to answer. “It’s just that I remember you talking about the place. Well, you and some of the Scavs who visit Leeroy’s Bar.”

“Cake, I’ve spoken to you about this place only once,” he looked at her carefully, watching for signs that she was lying to him again. “How much do you spend at Leeroy’s when I’m away?”

“Oh, you know, not much,” the girl shrugged and adjusted her shades. Without thinking, she took a spray paint can and marked the hood of the nearest car with her patented smile in a circle mark. Seeing that he was waiting, she added a small arrow to indicate the direction they had come from. “Two, probably four hours a day. But I tail it out of there before sunset, just as you’ve told me.”

This time he knew she was lying, so Grey crossed his arms over his chest. At that, the girl deflated. “Fine, I might be staying there between noon and midnight from time to time. But I keep clear of the second floor!”

In other words, she was a regular, he concluded. “I can’t stop you from staying there, but you really need to be careful. Visiting Scavengers and booze are a bad combination.”

“I can handle myself in a fight. You should ask Mark, Sign and Henry if you don’t trust me. I messed them up good, just before we left,” Cake added with a giggle and a second later her hands darted to cover her mouth, having realised that she’d said too much.

“Mark, Sign and Henry? As in Leeroy’s goons?” Grey inquired in a cold tone, making sure to remember to pay the trio a visit when he returned to Véi Dron.

“Seriously, it was just a simple disagreement,” the girl waved her hand dismissively, while she pleaded with him. “Please, don’t do anything to them, or Leeroy’s going to ban me from his place for good this time!”

“I’ll just have a word with them,” Grey scoffed, more sure than ever that it wasn’t a simple misunderstanding like Cake claimed. “Break’s over,” he yelled at Joshua, who had knelt along a couple of his people in the shade of a truck. Expediently, the tourists stuffed their water and rations into their packs and mouths and prepared to move.

“Right… The last time you had a word with someone I had a fight with, you made Jackal eat his own teeth in front of everyone at the bar.” The girl growled at him. “Don’t get me wrong, Grey. I really like it that you try to keep me safe, but you’re not a paragon of kindness when you get into a fight.”

“Jackal’s lucky I only made him eat his teeth. That human-sized piece of shit should thank his lucky stars that I talked with him before we paid a visit to his home. But all of that’s in the past. Jeronimo made sure to clean that mess.” Grey shook his head in an attempt to erase the memory of all those children he had to bury.

“You mean that the guy Jeronimo brags about dissolving in the acid river was Jackal? Damn! That’s a bad way to go...”

“Far kinder than what that man deserved,” Gey mumbled mostly to himself. Sure, their so-called society was no different than an organised form of anarchy, but there were some lines that should never be crossed. “Enough about that. Try to keep quiet for a while, will you?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than several loud bangs echoed through the empty street. A second later, the experienced Scavenger saw one of the tourists drop, while parts of his brains splattered Maité’s face. Almost at the same time, a thin line of blood formed on the side of Cake’s stomach, as a handful of bullets ricocheted from the cars around him. On instinct, Grey sprinted towards the collapsed section of wall a few meters away, while shouting at the top of his lings for everyone else to take cover. It was just as he feared. They had walked straight into an ambush. Looking around, the middle-aged man saw that Cake was standing frozen out in the open, blindly he let out a burst of fire in the general direction he believed their attackers to be. Not a moment later, another volley of gunfire peppered his cover.

“Damn it, Cake! Move!” Grey yelled at the stunned girl, just as a few of their attackers did the same.

“Pa! I got one of ‘em!”

“I think they shot Egg!”

“Will you lot keep your traps shut! Them’s trying to say somethin’ and I can’t hear with you idiots yapping!” A new voice barked. Unlike the other two, this one sounded vaguely familiar.

No, wait, Grey was sure he recognised the last person. The way he spoke, the sound of his voice, and one of the others had used egg as a name. It couldn’t be. They were nowhere near Sector 15. But there couldn’t be any mistake. It was a long shot, but Grey had to try, even if it was just to buy some time for Cake to snap out.

Putting as much power as possible into his voice, the Scavenger yelled. “Oats?”

“Oats?” Grey shouted as loudly as he could. “Is that you, Oats?”

As quickly as the shooting had started, it stopped. It gave Cake the opening she needed to drag herself closer to the Scavenger. Being caught out in the open and used as a target was not something she enjoyed. Thankfully, the idiots on the other end of the storm of lead were poor shots, and the few bullets that reached, barely grazed her. Still, she had frozen in place like one of the bloody tourists, instead of diving for cover like Grey had.

“Stupid, stupid, Cake,” the girl murmured to herself angrily, as she pressed her back against the ruined wall, her mentor was using as cover. Out of habit, she checked her gun to make sure there was a bullet in the chamber and the clip was properly inserted. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Shut it!” Grey’s words were barely audible, but she could feel the anger in them. He was thinking, trying to guess who was attacking them and from where. And here she was distracting him with things he had taught her. She really had the worst timing when it mattered, and that hurt more than the growing bruise from the bullet that impacted her vest and the one that nicked her side.

“Come on Oats. If it’s you, you’ve got to tell me, you damn oaf!” Grey shouted again, making sure to stay behind the ruined wall, while he cleared the jammed round from his rifle.

“Grey?!” Finally, the answer came out in the form of a croaking shout from the building across the street. “I’ll be! Is that really you, boy?”

“It’s me, old fart!” Grey shouted back with a hint of playfulness in his voice. Cake could imagine his smile behind the gas mask, but there was something odd about the man’s stance. He was way too rigid and his finger was still on the trigger. “You know, Oats, I couldn’t help but notice that you were shooting at me.”

“Sorry about that, son,” the stranger’s voice was accompanied by the telling sound of shifting rubble.

Careful to move as quietly as possible, Cake shifted her position and peeked through the cracks of the ruined wall. She was amazed to see an ancient man leaning from one of the third-floor windows of the building across the streets. He was a strange one, and that was putting it lightly. Oats’ appearance was as crooked as his voice sounded. Skinny limbs, face more wrinkled than the scarf the girl had shoved into the pocket of her pants, corpse-like long hair dangling over his shoulders and a mouth that lacked most of its front teeth. His clothing was different and yet, it was exactly like what Cake had imagined it to be. A long time ago, it might have been a jumpsuit, or overalls of some fashion, either blue or green in colour, but decades of stitches and patches and what had to be centuries of dirt and grime, made it appear as something suitable only as fuel for a drum fire. There was also a large number of bones, items and gear, stored in the mesh sewen on the old man’s garments.

There was also the weapon in his hand. It was in far worse shape than anything Cake had seen. Years of poor maintenance and neglect were visible even from a distance. And yet, the girl reminded herself, it was still a tool of death. She had to remind herself that sometimes looks could be very deceiving.

“I thought I was hunting some tourists, my boy,” Oats offered, his wrinkled face twisting into a smile. If I’d known it was you, I’d never be pointing my gun in your direction. You’re practically family Grey.”

This caught Cake off guard. It was the first time anyone had referred to the veteran Scavenger as family. But it was the next words that really shook her, leaving her speechless.

“Is that little lass there with you Cake?” Rasping laughter echoed through the empty street, splitting the moment of quiet. “How’re you, little one? Ain’t you going to say hi to your uncle Oats?”

“Give it a break, old fart,” Grey answered coldly in her place. “She doesn’t remember our stay in your neck of the woods, and I would prefer it that it remains that way.”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t need to get all angry with me boy,” although sounding sincere, there was something in Oats’ tone that really bothered Cake. It almost sounded like a dare. A challenge issued to Grey that only he would understand. “To be honest boy, I thought you two were long dead. Never thought you’d be making it to these here safer parts. The misses even made you a small grave and everything. Hell, even Milk was leaving flowers each year on the day you left.”

“How very kind of you, Oats.” Cake could see Grey’s shoulder stiffen and his arms tense. This was definitely not a topic he was happy to discuss out in the open. “Speaking of your better half, she’s being awfully quiet.”

“Ah, right. You don’t know. Well, how could you? That old crone’s seven years dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Oats. Copper was a good woman.” This time there was genuine sadness in Grey’s voice.

“Nah. It’s all good. I would’ve killed her myself the way she kept on nagging. I can finally have me some peace and quiet,” Oats’ laughter was far more disturbing this time and Cake began to wonder what was the reason she couldn’t remember the old man and his family.

“She would’ve done you in, old man,” Grey forced a chuckle as he switched his rifle back to single fire. “Almost sixty years old, and she could whoop my ass with one arm tied behind her back.”

“True that,” a cough accompanied Oats’ gurgled words. “If she knew I’d shot at you, she’d slit my throat without batting an eye. Loved you like you were her son, that crone.”

“Speaking of people who’d end your miserable life, I recon Milk’s not with you? Can’t imagine she’d be overly happy about this.” While Grey spoke, Cake felt the tip of his boot kick her thigh. “Can you check the floors above him?” he asked quietly when she turned her head to look at him.

Nimbly she rolled on her side, grinding her teeth at the pain the movement ceased. Holding her breath, she peeked from the edge of the ruined wall segment. While she did that the ancient man answered Grey’s question with a sombre voice.

“She ain’t with us, son. This damned world proved far too cruel for my gentle Milk,” at that he tapped on one of the meshes dangling from his clothing. “But you could say a part of her is always with me.”

“Sorry, can’t get a good look,” Cake shook her head, just as a string of muffled unintelligible curses came out from Grey.

“Damn it, Oats!” he finally settled on a response, and it wasn’t one she was expecting to hear. There was real pain and sadness in the Scavenger’s voice. While Cake felt sorry that Grey had clearly lost a dear friend, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous that he harboured such deep feelings for another woman.

“I know how you feel, my boy. A day doesn’t go by without crying my eyes out when I remember her kind smile.” Cake knew it was only her imagination, but she could swear she could hear the man swallow hard at the last.

“Pa! Are we gonna shoot them or what?” One of the other people with Oats interrupted.

“Shut your trap, Bacon! How many times have I told you, to keep that thig closed when I’s talking? See if your brother’s still breathin’ and let the grownups speak!” The ancient man barked angrily.

“Pa?” Grey asked as he removed the scope from his rifle. “I have to admit, Oats, that’s an interesting play and it might work with other people, but I know you, old man. No way those are your kids.”

“God save me, no! Well, I don’t like to say it, but they are my flesh and blood. They are Milk’s boys. Triplets, believe it or not. Bacon, Egg and Lettice,” Oats proclaimed with unhidden pride. “That said, them three ain’t what you’d call the sharpest tools in the shed. But strong and big as three-horns and only fourteen years old.”

“They ain’t my, Oats,” Grey was quick to answer and Cake let out a startled squeak that he would even think that was possible.

“You sure about that, son? Can’t help but point out they came to this world some six or seven months after you and lil’ Cake left our home?”

“I gave you my word, old man. I never touched your daughter, and trust me when I say this, Milk was very persistent.” The steel in Grey’s voice was all she needed to hear to believe his words and calm her thundering heart.

“I know you’re a man of your word, son,” Oats sounded crestfallen at this. “After all, you did bring peace to our Sector, just as you promised you would if we provided for the little lass with you. But are you sure them three ain’t yours, ‘cause I’ll be honest with you, son, I ain’t liking the alternative?”

“I swear on my life, Oats. Nothing happened between me and Milk.”

“Shame about that, really,” there was a long pause while the ancient man dealt with that revelation. “You could’ve used that as a bargaining chip, you know. ‘Cause, now I’m less torn about pointing my gun at you Grey.”

“Don’t know about that Oats. You and your boys didn’t seem to be too torn when you shot at me. Last I checked, I don’t exactly pass for a tourist.” While he said that, he kicked Cake again.

“What?” She snapped at him. Seriously, there had to be a better way to attract her attention.

“Do you have something that will make a good explosion in your gear?” He asked her in a hushed voice.

“No,” Cake shook her head. “Wait! There might be a flashbang in the left pocket of my bag.” She hurried to correct herself, unsure if she had picked up the set of grenades she had crafted when she took her gear.

Seeing Grey fish, the item in question, Cake felt embraced at how poorly it looked. Instead of the proper ones, she had picked one of the prototypes. A little more than an empty can of spray paint, stuffed with gunpowder, snapped nails, metal shaving and anything else she could find in her shop. She wanted to reach and snatch the grenade from Grey’s hand in order to hide it. This was an insult to her skill, barely held together with copper wires and string and lucking any proper decoration. The girl didn’t need to see her mentor’s face to know that he was shocked at the shotty workmanship.

“Cake…”

“I know, I know!” She interrupted, wishing to crawl into a hole and die. “You weren’t supposed to see that. I can make a better one, trust me.”

“That’s no flashbang,” Grey held the item carefully, as he shifted his position.

“Technically, it is,” Cake smiled and winked at him, before remembering that he wouldn’t see it because of her sunglasses. “It will make a flash and it will bang.”

While they were dealing with that, Oats had gone on a rant about tourists and easy pickings. Or something like that. Honestly, she wasn’t paying any attention, having lost interest in the conversation. However, she noticed that Joshua and his people had begun to move as well. Slowly, so as not to be noticed, they had taken better positions and there was at least one less of them, not counting the dead one in the middle of the street. Yep, Cake nodded to herself, things were going to turn ugly. It was at this point that Oats said something that caught her attention.

“The old Sector’s not been the same since you left, son. To be honest, you leavin’ was perhaps the worst thing you could’ve done.”

“I told you back then, Oats, that it was only a temporary solution,” Grey shouted back, not bothering to hide his frustration. “It was up to you and the other families to keep the new status quo.”

“And you told us that there would be time!” The ancient man yelled, spit and foam flying from his mouth. “But the moment them fuckers from the Circus of Rust and the Cineplex Tribes learned you was gone; they came back for blood! Not your usual raids! They came to bring the fear of God to us, just like you did to them!”

“You know,” Oats continued a little calmer, “they still dig out bodies from beneath the rubble of where the Circus building used to be. And the folk of the tribes avoid the old Cineplex like the place’s plagued. Surely you remember all the explosion and screamin’ lil’ Cake? Poor Copper was at her wits end how to stop you crying. By the time your old man came back, you was shaking like a leaf at the slightest of sound.”

“I’m warning you Oats,” Grey barked. “You’re talking with me, not her.”

“You ain’t exactly a spring chicken yourself to be warning me, lad. If you catch my meaning?” There was a pause, and for a moment the dirty old man’s head shifted slightly. That’s when Cake caught movement on the floor above him. The tourists weren’t the only ones getting into better positions.

“The moment the boys could hold a gun without keeling over, we’s bolted out of that hellhole.” It was hard for her to see properly, however, Cake saw Oats reach for the battered rifle leaning against the wall next to him. “A man has to eat, you know. Them five rules of yours were a good idea, too bad neither Copper nor myself paid too much attention to them. Might have had somethin’ to put in our bellies if we did. That’s the thing about hunger, you know, it makes you do things you never thought you’d do. And we’ve been hungry for weeks now.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, Oats. You’re a tough bastard, I’ll give you that, but you can still walk away.” She noticed the plea in Grey’s tone, but a part of her wasn’t sure if it was genuine or just a ploy for their enemies to let down their guard. However, Cake did notice the whispered words directed at her which settled the matter. “No survivors.”

“Yeh, I know. But sadly, it has to,” the honest regret in Oats’ voice was enough to make Cake hesitate for a moment. Actually, under other circumstances, it might have been enough for her to ask Grey to change his mind. Too bad for the ancient man, that the man she loved from the bottom of her heart had already given her an order she was happy to comply with.

“I know it ain’t fair to blame you for our failures, son. But I can’t blame Milk, for being unable to keep her mouth shut, or her damn legs closed. Now, if them three idiots is your kids, I’d be more inclined to reconsider.” The few seconds between this and Oats’ next question felt like minutes, and Cake was finding it hard to keep her breathing steady. She could practically taste the fight and wanted nothing more than to get on with it.

“So, you sure they’s not your kids, Grey?”

The words that came out of Grey were ones that Cake would remember forever. She was certain of it because it was the first time, an apology had brought death and destruction.

“Sorry, Oats.”