The Wastelanders
by Paul Junior Walker-Daley
Chapter 01: In That Place Crying
It was around 2025 when I sat trying to explain to my friends, "the Government's going to leave us in the
waste-lands crying" no one wants to hear you. But that's just life for you, a couple of years ago everyone was
walking around saying the same shit 'life's a bitch, god forgive she divorces me' or 'life's a bitch, fuck her
till you die'. I was one of those different types, not like the regulars, who walk around claiming this galaxy
for themselves. Life itself proves that in times of crisis, our race, the human race pulls together, yeah
right! I remember one night quite late, I was with a group of friends. We were discussing religion, one of my
friends seems to of made it his life's purpose to prove there's a higher evil force, possibly equal to God.
Don't get me wrong he's nothing like a Sadist, he want's to believe, but doesn't want to waste his time and
end up in Hell anyway. We'll he was saying there was something/someone who made Lucifer go to the dark side,
I'm explaining it was simply his profession. Then the subject of Science Fiction got brought up, and how it's
supposedly evil. I went on to explain that it's about one of the only things the government give us, how
sci-fi is a desensitiser. I went on to inform my friends that the aliens are coming, and we know the Grey's
are looking to wipe us out, thanks to sci-fi. That was when one of my friends, a real scenic called David,
sitting over in the corner said "what could we do anyway?"
Well that was years ago, before I was proven right. "you guessed it… wrong" the aliens didn't come, they were
already here. The extra terrestrial life forms were in talks with our president and vice of the planet, the
US and Russian presidents. Well it seems our extra terrestrial benefactors, are universally weak just
intelligent. And when there home planet was threatened by the Grey's, they gave us up. The Grey's killed off
the vast percentage of the planet's population, and stole half of our planets water leaving the few remaining
survivors with bio sludge for oceans. It's now the early 21st Century, no one knows what the date would have
been but the year is now 0002 SG. (since Greys) in what used to be known as London, England and oh yeah my
name's Killah.
Most of my family is now dead, and I have few friends left, it's all fucked, apparently Earth ain't even worth
shitting on properly. Anyway the story starts here with me and the rest of the clan a bunch of civilians
collectively known as clan SpirIntellect going shopping. The armouries low and we need some of them
state-of-the-art guns if we're gonna survive this World much longer. The civilian Police are cold blooded
murderers with one agenda kill anything that moves, that in itself dictates kill or be killed, the only reason
we've survived these cold streets of London is intelligence and adaptation. Citizen's live happy, easy pre-war
lives, but we're civilians, living out here in the wastelands. Civilians have evolved into cold blooded
killers, even the religious types now 'kill and take' deluding themselves by believing it's in the name of the
lord, with statements like 'it's what he wants', delusional that's what I say. Citizens have know idea of the
life we lead. Life for them hasn't changed they just get rich living life in comfort away from all this, where
you relive the same gamble day-in, day-out, it's called will I be alive tomorrow? The streets are made up of
blood-thirsty factions, scavengers who kill and take or will be killed and have there stuff taken. The two
biggest factions are the Christians and the Muslims. It's Muslim turf we're riding through now.
Mission Parameters: Guns, bullets, food and water, two destinations one journey, 12 of us are riding SBK's the
premier way to travel. The other four ride in the van strategically placed in the centre of us twelve gun
ready rider riders. Of course there's more of us, we have two back protecting base and there were even more,
but there were uncontrollable circumstances that saw to our numbers quickly dwindle. Our previous leader
Morphine thought he was the all that, invincible. He made us what we are today. We owe him for that, but still
he's gone now. See Morph sent us on this mission first we were to steal the bikes from a civilian shop before
someone else thought of it, then we were to steal our artillery from the Polo our affectionate little term for
the Police. The first bit went pretty smoothly in and out like clock work only sustaining minor casualties,
we got away with a truck load of bikes. Polo HQ is where everything went wrong, Morph's plan was full scale
attack 'go in everything that opens, that means all the doors and through the fucking windows, take as much
as you can carry and then leave, wait for no-one come straight back.' he said. We left 76% of our entire
clan behind that night, and out of that number all of em fatalities, 58 clan members dead in one night. Morph
stepped down as clan leader and the next morning was gone never been seen since. Leaving was the worst thing
he could do, without naming a successor, because then everyone started fighting for leadership. After months
of bloodshed a compromise was finally reached before things got to the stage of people dying. The compromise
was a democracy we were gonna vote on everything. It didn't work and the only time there was any peace and
quiet was when injuries and fatigue from the fighting was high. That's when Caine short for Cocaine, Morph's
number 2, made everyone have one last vote, The vote for a new leader to lead our merry band, one who no one
could challenge for power. I was the guy who was unluckily elected, and for that reason I remain distant.
Caine deduced the reason was that as the sub-factions formed I chose none, if that ain't the worlds worst
ever excuse. Well there ain't nothing I can do about it but I can't stop thinking about it, I'm responsible
for all these lives and I never even had a kid. Every good leader will listen to the words of wisdom spoken by
another, so I appointed Caine, my conciglieri. Caine's a 7' tall, half black, half Italian, muscle bound,
hairy man, with little to day, I believe he's the embodiment of wisdom as with his help I can rule successful
and justly.
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