“What’s our Locale, Tryzer?” Stelig asked, tapping his foot against the floor. “Sector AP-546…we’re about 40 klicks from our destination.”

“40? Not bad.” Stelig said satisfaction painted onto his face. “What’s the rush Stel, you hate The Waste?” I asked.

“EVERYONE hates The Waste, Cypher.”

“Heh heh, true.”

I sat back in my seat, feeling the leather squeak as I nervously tried to make myself comfortable, but that was all for nought after I peered through the window on my left.

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” Colvolt Weitson asked. “What is?” I answered, confused by his question. “That those crusted flakes of sand and dead coral reefs were once buried underneath saltwater.”

Humph, I said to myself bitterly. It was as if the man read my thoughts, immediately. “Quite hard to believe actually,” I answered.

“Believe it, son…after The Imbibe swallowed the oceans and sea, we were left but to pick up the pieces.”

“Never said I didn’t believe it, I said it was hard to believe.” I confirmed, “I just can’t imagine there ever being so much water as far as my eyes could see.”

“Hmmm….you have a point.” He said, nodding

“Possibly. But who would ever know? Certainly not you, nor I” I said, trying to silence the man.

“I see you’re not one for friendly conversation.” He said with a dry laugh. “That’s fine. I can take a hint.”

“It’s not that I’m one for friendly conversations, I just don’t have much to say to a man that’s trying to put honest people out of work…Mr. Weitson.”

“Ahhh…there it is. The reason.”

“Reason?”

“Yes. Reason. Everyone has a reason why they don’t like, or like things. For example. Mr Stelig over there has been tapping his foot continuously since we’ve left Bridge City. Why? Based on the conversation, he hates The Waste…like many of you. It would seem. Mr Rynord keeps fiddling with the safety of his pistol, as if…he had a bad experience and that’s his coping mechanism to make him feel, safe. Captain Naedon, has yet to keep his eyes open for fifteen minutes straight. Migraines? Or he’s doesn’t like bright lights, which by the way is a symptom of PTSD. You, Mr Cypher, is it…have been fidgeting in your seat since we left. It’s like you’re uncomfortable, or there’s something…or someone on your mind, which doesn’t allow you the comfort to relax.”

“Captain…Permission to Shoot Mr Weitson.” Stelig asked, eyes trained on Weitson like a wolf does its prey. “Permission Granted,” Naedon answered.

My eyes shifted to the bodyguard, who sat next to Colvolt. He didn’t budge nor fidget, but his eyes were nervous as hell or he was just bluffing.

Mr Weitson chuckled catching Tryzer off guard, which made The Thundrum swerve unexpectedly. Stelig and Rynord hurled curses at him, but he just ignored them.

“I think I’ve missed my calling wouldn’t you think Zanton?” Weitson said, eyeing his bodyguard. Zanton turned towards Weitson, as if disgusted, then closed his eyes ignoring the man. “I see you have her habits.” He said, “don’t worry you’ll be fine.”

I was as confused as a fish on land. What the HELL did he just say furthermore even MEAN? Not my business, I thought.

I turned my attention back to my window, watching the craggy lands below the bend, swerve and stitch themselves crookedly as the surface extended beyond my eyesight.

“But yes, Mr Cypher.” Mr Weitson said, taking me from my thoughts again. “The Imbibe did indeed happen. We are quite lucky to survive…god knows how we did because I certainly don’t”

“You believe in God?” Rynord asked, pushing himself into the conversation. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know…maybe because he doesn’t exist?”

“Hmmm…I see, and what makes you believe that?” Weitson asked, tone ecstatic.

“I don’t believe in some ‘invisible force’ that created man, placed us here, and just left us to our own devices.”

“Where’s your proof of that? ‘We being left here to our devices, is moot.’ Weitson asked.

“I don’t have any proof of that, the same way you don’t have any proof he exists.”

“I don’t need proof. He simply does, because I believe…just as I do the Imbibe happened.”

“You believe the Imbibe happened, and we survived thanks to god?”

“How else would we be allowed to survive, if not for God?”

“Allowed to survive?”

“Yes, allowed…” Weitson said, smiling as if he knew something we all didn’t know. “All of us, have our purpose. I know mine.” Weitson said, turning to me. “You asked me why I put honest men out of work. Fine. I’ll tell you my ‘Reason’ because God ordained it!”

The sound of the rumbling engine and rattling parts of the Armored Truck hummed in silence. I was lost for words, and so was the Cobra Squad.

Zanton, the bodyguard eyes were closed as if he knew the man dug his own grave as he swallowed deeply and bit his lip, trying his best to keep silent after hearing that drivel of nonsense Weitson just spoke.

“You’re a piece of shit…you know that?” Stelig said, shaking his head and stalking his way to the front of Thundrum.

Colvolt smiled and nestled into his seat as if he’d accomplished something. I kept my eyes wandering outside, watching as ravines, buttes and crevices passed me by, but something kept nudging me at the back of my mind.

I finally turned towards Colvolt and Rynord, eyeing me, the former shaking his head telling me ‘no, don’t ask,’ but I just had to know. “What’s the name of your ‘God’?” I asked Weitson.

The man’s eyes perked open, with him lapping his foot and resting his head back. “Nexus.” He said, confidently.

“Damn it Cypher!” Rynord roared. I nodded, mockingly towards the Colvolt, then rested my back and neck into the seat, then I turned my gaze back to my view of the desert and continued unbothered. “Fair enough,” I said gruffly. “Fair enough.”

◆◆◆

The Carib Waste.

I hated it here. I fought in dozens of skirmishes through its craggy embrace, returning battered and bruised each time during my platoon days. It wasn’t horrible then, till I eventually lost my eye and arm here during an operation.

The Waste, all the memories I had here rushed through my mind as vivid as hated it to be. The firefights, my skin burning as half my body got blown away protecting a caravan in a ravine against savages, was infuriating at times.

I ran away from this, but yet here I am. The hardest times of my life were right here in this decrepit land. The people of the Federation didn’t know how cruel this land was, nor should they ever know it.

After I assassinated Hortot Calsum, we had to trek through the Waste, the worst part of it all, Shin-Lee was pregnant and there was no way I was leaving her behind.

Not For Shit.

I took Shin-Lee through catacombs of brittle bones, charred plants, infertile soul and a mesh of poisonous coral, just to give her a better environment to raise our daughter.

The wondrous Bridge City, part of an Enclave of Cities which were part of The Antillean Federation.

Despite all of that, The reality of The Carib Waste being an oasis of saltwater and white sand, still, never resonated with me.

I mean, looking at it, I could see how only death reigned here. I just couldn’t accept it as is, but nor could I dismiss it fully, because of the bones and coral.

The Imbibe, officially known as the Apocalyptic event called ‘The Great Swallowing.’ The earth opened its crust and guzzled eighty percent of the world’s oceans and sea, decimating the world’s CO2 levels.

Everyone should’ve died because of it, but for whatever reason, God or Man’s resilience, we survived, barely, but enough now to make what we have, enough to live.

The Waste had nothing to offer but sand storms, deformed bones and the everlasting sights of craggy rocks and dead coral. It was permanently hot, cold, intrusive and appallingly vicious on the human psyche and body.

No one within Bridge City, truly understood what life was on the outside of the Walls of the Antillean Federation, and why would they? There was nothing here.

At first, I believe the federation used the Carib Waste as part of their propaganda campaign. However, when I first experienced its cruelty, in the form of a sand storm. I had no trouble confirming the federation’s rhetoric.

Now, look at me, dreading to come in The Waste for some credits to pay a bill. You’ve come far Cypher…You’ve come far, but not far enough

“Don’t they plan to rest?” Naedon grunted, frustrated. He tapped a to his left, and the 22” screen unfolded right before the Machine Gunner seat. A red dot blinked across the blue screen. The map shifted to the left of the screen, glossing over some writing ‘Sector 89A-9863’

We’re heading deeper into the west. I said, noting the section designation. “This is further than I anticipated,” Tryzer said. “It seems they planned this out…or connected to one of your Rivals. Mr Weitson.”

“My Rivals wouldn’t dare orchestrate this!” Colvolt growled.

“Oh?” Stelig said with a chuckle.

“Mr Weitson,” Naedon interjected sharply. “It’s obvious you have enemies. You’re one of the most powerful men within the Antillean Federation, but it’s clear you believe you’re untouchable. It’s as Cypher said, Mr Weitson. You tried to take food from the mouths of your people, by having them build Automatons, unbeknownst to them. I’d say your daughter being kidnapped was inevitable.”

“Inevitable, You say. But I’d say Ironic, that’s the last dime I’ll ever spend on labour. Don’t worry, the profits I bear will allow me to have lower expenses and higher profits.”

“Why does it sound like you’re more concerned about profits and expenses than your daughter?” Stelig hissed.

“I’m here aren’t I? That should suffice, show my care for her.” Colvolt said, tone doused in acid.

Zanton, the bodyguard, lips drew a line, leaving anger painted on his face. He didn’t turn towards his employer, but then he simply shifted in his seat, bothered by what the billionaire’s said. Something’s not right here I thought, immediately something’s not right here.

My eyes trailed to Stelig, who kept his head down and just nodded. Rynord didn’t even move, he sat there, hands on his knees, unfazed.

I wasn’t familiar with the Cobra Squad, but with the change in the atmosphere. The weight of the air became heavy.

It was clear, EVERYONE was pissed.

Colvolt Weitson was your typical billionaire, arrogant, nonchalant and uncaring for anyone’s trouble. The only thing he cared for, was his credits and reputation.

It was neither mentioned to us, but him coming on this rescue operation, was probably his way of sprucing up his image. I could see the headlines now.

Industrial Magnate Colvolt Weitson daughter, Elhisia Weitson kidnapped by terrorists to The Carib Waste. Colvolt himself, volunteers to join the rescue operation.

Complete filth is what this man truly is. I thought he cared about his daughter, but I was dead wrong. The man’s a god damn actor, that’s what he is!

“Ophidian 1, this is the Nest, do you copy? over?” Stelyne said. “Ophidian 1 reading you loud and clear, Nest, over,” Naedon answered.

“You’re gonna have to make a stop at one of the settlements, over.”

“WHAT?” Stelig roared.

Naedon snapped his neck back eyeing Stelig sternly, which made Colvolt chuckle for some odd reason. “Negative, Nest…we’re in pursuit of snake bandits. Over.”

“Ophidian 1? This is Cobra King…the settlement coordinates will be sent via digital array. We know where they’re headed, but you need to be prepared, understood? Over.”

“Affirmative Cobra King, over.”

The called died instantly and the vibrating sound of the metal rattled and clanked as Tryzer swerved left, avoiding a butte that appeared in front of him.

I shifted in my seat, holding my harness, feeling as my SMB clutch the back of my brain tighter than usual. I winced from the pain, with a whimper and watched as the light from my cybernetic eye dimmed slightly.

Shit.

“Nova…slethe levels,” I said aloud.

Everyone in the truck towards me, confused. What? I said looking back at them with my eyes. The SMB clutched my brain even tighter, and my hand quivered from the pain. It took me an entire fifteen seconds to finally realise, that Nova wasn’t there anymore.

I chuckled lightly and nodded. “Ignore me, I’m tired,” I said. “Or crazy,” Rynord said, with a laugh. “You alright back there Cypher?”

“I’m fine.” I lied. “I’m fine.”