Young Writers Society

CHAPTER THREE

Red dug around in the back of the truck. It seemed like they got here a bit too late and some other scavvers made off with the best weapons and drugs. Someone even made off with Phoenix's pants.

“Alright, so, not off to the best start,” he mumbled to himself. He pulled a small knife from his boot and sliced into one of the front seats. He’d worked with the Burned Men enough times to know where they hid their stash, and sure enough, he managed to pull out a small paper bag full of white powder. Hopefully, this would get them somewhere.

“I still don’t see how we can’t take the truck itself,” Dimitri said. Red crawled out of the truck and stood before the other man. In the daylight, he could get a better look at him. Dimitri stood a foot taller than Red, with a chiselled nose and small, pouty lips. He looked like one of those superheroes from the old comics, minus the little curl on his forehead and the bulging muscles. Not to say he was a twig by any means, he did have some muscle, probably from farming. He had the tone to his arms and legs that implied a lot of physical labour. Also, wrapping around his arms were the most detailed and striking tattoos Red had ever seen, images of flowers, old world symbols and faces that were drawn with excruciating detail. He didn’t know where in the hell someone could get tattoos that beautiful in the wasteland, but he wasn’t about to ask for directions. Besides, he didn’t have the body to carry tattoos well. Freckles, scars and bruises, yes, but not tattoos.

“I told you, we’ll piss off the locals,” Red said.

“Take the skulls off then,” Dimitri said, regarding said skulls with a sneer, “It would help make it look less tacky.”

“And ruin the aesthetic these guys had going?” Red gasped, pushing the back doors shut.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at Red. “Is everything a joke to you?”

“Most things.”

“Right,” Dimitri sighed, then put his hands on his hips, “Could we sell it? The truck?”

Red tilted his head at the vehicle in question. The truck was pretty banged up, with a couple of dents, some blood caked on the wheels, a broken windshield and, again, the skulls decorating the hood but… Yeah, it seemed to have driven okay when they arrived.

“That’s a good idea. People are always looking for scrap. And a working engine would sell for a pretty penny.”

“Okay, so where can we sell it? There has to be a town around here somewhere.”

“Oh, Copperhill is just twenty minutes awa-”

Red stiffened. Copperhill, the settlement he robbed only the day before. He was fairly confident no one saw him get up to anything devious, but… Still, it was a risk going back.

Dimitri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t tell me that’s the town you robbed.”

“That’s the town I robbed.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Hey, I didn’t know I’d need to go back to get shit. I wasn’t planning on-” Red gestured at Dimitri, “All of this.”

“Then maybe don’t work with bandits in the future?”

“The bandits weren’t the problem,” Red snapped back.

Dimitri glared at Red, his eyes flashing briefly. Red took a step back, then stumbled over something. He glanced down, finding the body of the bandit whose neck Dimitri had snapped with just a thought. The dead man’s glassy eyes stared right through him. That sent a chill down his spine, reminding Red of who he was dealing with, and what he was capable of.

“In case you forgot, you’re alive because of me,” Dimitri said coolly. He turned away from Red, who sagged with relief. Right, yeah, no more pissing off the mutant.

“Okay. Copperhill it is then,” Red said, climbing into the driver’s seat. He really, really hated driving trucks, they were clunky and awkward and he could never steer properly. But he hated dying more, and he couldn’t guarantee Dimitri would spare him if he kept annoying him. Dimitri got in beside him. Red revved up the engine and got them moving towards Copperhill.

Despite his wasteland wanderer status, he did actually quite enjoy his time in the settlements scattered throughout the land. The only one he’d never been to was Forgotten City, mostly because it was so far away and due to their own armed forces, bandits weren’t as active in the surrounding area. Red knew vaguely where it was meant to be, and he also knew it was a city built within the subway stations of the old world, which meant they weren’t looking for a city in the “traditional” sense. Maybe someone in Copperhill would know more.

He glanced at Dimitri, wondering what was so important in Forgotten City that he had to get there in a hurry. The truck veered to the side and Red cursed under his breath, gripping the wheel and turning so the truck kept to a straight line on the old, broken road.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t drive,” Dimitri said.

“I said I couldn’t drive trucks. Everything else I’m fine with.”

“Of course.”

“Alright, if you’re such an expert, you can drive next time.”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t drive. I never learned.”

Red frowned but he kept his eyes on the road. He wasn’t going to crash again. “You never learned how to drive? So, what was your plan? Walk to this place? You said before that you were in a hurry.”

“I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“So you also went off not knowing where this place was or how to get there?”

“Look, I didn’t plan this, alright?”

“Obviously,” Red said before he could stop himself. The image of the dead man flashed again and Red tightened his hold on the wheel.

“Just drive,” Dimitri muttered, turning away from Red so he could stare out the window.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and when they rolled up to the entrance of Copperhill, Red shrank further into his seat, hoping to God he wasn’t recognised. The city was surrounded by the crumbling debris of the old world and wire fences. Guards patrolled the outside perimeters, and when they saw the bandit truck they instinctively aimed their guns. Red stuck his hand out of the window.

“We’re not bandits! We stole this truck!” He shouted.

Dimitri flinched. “Why the fuck would you tell them that?” He hissed.

One guard stared at them curiously, his face hidden behind an old motorcycle helmet. He wore the typical guard armour, a tactical vest with a dark undershirt and pants, but his vest was adorned with various medals, one being in the shape of some kind of bird. Red swore under his breath. This wasn’t some lowly grunt, he was a sergeant. The sergeant slowly approached the truck, rifle held steady in his hands. Red’s heartbeat picked up speed, hoping he hadn’t been on duty yesterday when Red stole their supplies. The man stopped by Red’s door and regarded the two men quietly behind the cracked visor of his helmet. Red caught a glimpse of the bird medal and saw the name, “Harkness,” written across it.

“Step out of the truck,” Sergeant Harkness ordered. His voice was harsh and raspy, like he’d spent his whole life gargling sand.

Red climbed out and stood before him. Dimitri hesitated, before slowly following Red’s lead. Sergeant Harkness patted Red down, finding his knife hidden in his boot and the cigarettes in his hoodie pocket. Red thought that was the end of it, until Sergeant Harkness pulled out the bag of drugs, and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting them.

“What’s this now?”

“That was in the truck. You know the Burned Men deal in drugs,” Red said.

“And I don’t want their shit in my city,” Sergeant Harkness tossed the bag to one of his men, who fumbled a little before catching it.

Well, there went another potential source of income. This day was going swimmingly.

Sergeant Harkness jabbed a finger in Red’s face. “I’m only gonna warn you once. If I catch you selling here, you’ll be making excuses through a mouthful of broken teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

Red swallowed thickly and nodded. Honestly, he was just grateful the guards didn’t seem to recognise him from the day before.

“Good. Now you, get over here,” Sergeant Harkness gestured for Dimitri to approach. He patted the Wraith down, though Red thought the whole exercise was pointless. If Dimitri wanted to kill someone, he didn’t need a weapon to do it. The sergeant took a step back from Dimitri and gave an affirming grunt.

“What’s your business in the city?” He asked.

“To sell this hunk of junk,” Red said.

“We need supplies to get to Forgotten City,” Dimitri added.

The sergeant stared at them, the helmet masking whatever expression he wore. When he finally spoke, there was a softer edge to his voice. “Long trip. Better make sure you’re up for it.”

He turned on his heel and gestured for the other guards to resume their patrol. Right, so, the conversation was clearly over. Red glared at his back before motioning for Dimitri to get back in the truck. “What a dick,” he muttered.

“You’re the one who kept drugs in your pocket,” Dimitri said.

“Next time use your magic mind powers to hide them,” Red said as he turned the key in the ignition and started the truck up again.

Copperhill was a city built within what used to be a shopping mall in the old world. Many cars and trucks laid scattered around the parking lot, some of which served as homes for residents. Red was careful to avoid hitting them, even when the wheel got stiff and struggled to turn. He gripped it as hard as he could, biting his lip, and then suddenly the wheel turned easily and he narrowly avoided hitting someone’s caravan. He glanced at Dimi. The man’s eyes glowed briefly before he blinked and the glow was gone.

“Figured I’d help a little,” he said with a shrug.

Red’s mouth popped open and closed in shock. “You mean you could have done that this whole time?” He finally spluttered out.

“Don’t start-”

“No, I mean, could you have driven this with your mind?” Red asked, “Did you even need me for this?”

“Yeah,” Dimi gave Red a funny look, as though the answer were obvious, “My powers take a lot of energy out of me. If I’d tried to drive like this I probably would have collapsed within an hour and died in a car wreck.”

“But you killed all those bandits in a matter of seconds.”

“That’s different. I don’t need to think too much about that,” Dimitri said.

They both grew quiet as that information sunk in.

“Wow. Okay,” Red said. He focused back on the road, but watched out of the corner of his eye as Dimitri shifted in his seat. The man looked as though he wanted to say something, but he never did. Red drove up to the garage, where a tall, muscular woman in a dirty jumpsuit stood outside, taking a deep swig of whatever was in the flask in her hand. She eyed them curiously, her face marred with grease and muck.

“Isn’t that a bandit truck,” she said before Red could say hello.

“Is that what that is? I never noticed,” Red glanced at the truck where Dimitri still sat inside, “We were hoping to sell it. My friend there thinks it’s tacky.”

She stuffed her flask into her pocket and approached the vehicle. Popping open the hood, she peered in at the engine. “The original owners dead?” She asked.

“Yep. Ask my friend. He killed them.”

Her gaze flickered to Dimitri for a moment, before falling back on the engine. She pursed her lips in thought. “It’s a fine engine. I’m surprised they kept it in such great shape considering the rest of the truck looks like shit.”

“Can we sell you the engine then?” Red asked.

The mechanic slammed the hood down. “Nah. I’ll take the whole thing off your hands. But I can’t offer you money. Don’t got any. I can however exchange you something similar-”

“Not another truck,” Red said quickly, “It was a fucking hassle just driving this thing for twenty minutes.”

“Oh, can’t drive stick, can you?” The mechanic chuckled at him, “Look, I’m just about to get lunch with my wife. Come back to me in about… An hour, maybe two, and I’ll have another car ready for you.”

Dimitri jumped out of the truck, watching as Red shook her hand. He waited until she’d entered the garage, out of earshot, before speaking.

“I thought the whole point of this was to get money?” He hissed.

“No, it was to get a car I can drive,” Red replied, “Look, we’re getting the car for basically free. I can see to it that we have a few supplies for the road. Just keep your head down and don’t panic.”

“What are you gonna do? Rob them again? Haven’t you done enough?”

“You want my help or not?” Red narrowed his eyes at Dimitri. He knew he was walking on thin ice right now, but something… Something inside him just couldn’t let it go. Something ugly and twisted inside of him that wanted to snap at Dimitri and tell him he could take his judgment elsewhere. After all, the man was a mutant, so who was he to look down on Red, who was just trying to survive?

Dimitri clenched his jaw and turned away from the smaller man. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe asking you was a mistake.”

“Yeah, it was.”

He’d said it before he even had time to process it. Dimitri blinked at him, and for a split second Red thought he saw his expression twitch, as though pained. The other man sighed. “I’m gonna ask around for directions. Just… Just forget it. Alright? You don’t owe me shit for saving you. Just stay away from me.”

Red swallowed thickly as he watched the man disappear inside Copperhill, swallowed up by the crowds, leaving Red on his own.

He was used to that.

CHAPTER FOUR

He clasped his cigarette in his hands, taking a long, slow drag as he watched the residents go about their day. Vendors ran their stalls and shouted about their great prices, someone’s kid was crying, guards marched by and not a single one of them even noticed Red standing by the old, dried-up fountain in the centre of it all. This was how Red got away with so many thefts, he was so easy to miss. So easily forgettable. It used to hurt, but he got used to it. He had to. What else could he have done? People out in the wasteland had their own shit to deal with.

He watched as a small, scrawny kid crept close to a food stall. His little hands gripped the counter, and Red vaguely heard him ask for food. The merchant glared down at him and swatted him away.

“Get out of here! You’re scaring away real customers!”

The boy shrank back, and when Red caught a glimpse of his face, he saw large dark eyes brimming with tears on such a small, pointed face. His entire body was as thin as a rake but with a small protruding belly. The kid was fucking starving and that merchant just shooed him off like an animal?

Red tossed his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out before approaching the stand. “Hey. Give me whatever's on special.”

The merchant eyed him up and down. He was a large, hairy man, with small beady eyes and several gold chains draped around his neck. His lips pulled into a sneer, as though Red were shit under his shoe. “You got cash to pay with?”

“No, I was gonna rob you in plain daylight with guards around. Seemed like a fun idea. ‘Course I’ve got fucking cash.”

The merchant glared at him. “Sorry. Can’t be too careful, sir. Robbery here yesterday, lost almost everything.”

Red glanced at the kid who had crept off to the side, still staring at the meat and bread on display. There’d been enough supplies in there to keep this whole city going for months and yet no one would give the kid a free meal?

The merchant shoved the plate of food in front of Red. It was meat, cheese, some fruit and a crust of bread. Red dug into his pocket and slammed the cash he had left from a previous job onto the counter, deliberately ignoring the merchant’s outstretched hand.

“Hope you choke on it, dickhead,” he said as he took his food and walked towards the kid. The kid took a nervous step back, hands raised as though he were about to shield himself. Red crouched before him and offered him the plate. When the boy didn’t budge he shot him a quick smile. “It’s okay. You can have it.”

The boy glanced between Red and the plate before slowly taking the food from him. “I don’t have money,” he said softly.

“You’re fine, kid. Just don’t eat too fast and make yourself sick.”

The boy smiled up at him, and for a split second Red saw Oliver in his place, with his gap-toothed grin and freckled cheeks, before the boy dashed off to eat his meal. Red took a deep breath. Oliver was dead. There was no point in letting ghosts get to him like this. Christ, he needed a cigarette and a drink. Mostly a drink. Maybe five of them. He glanced over to see the merchant glaring daggers at him. A few residents whispered amongst themselves.

“You got nothing better to do?” Red asked, “Want some suggestions? Minding your own fucking business could be a fun activity. As could giving a starving kid something to eat.”

“One more word out of you and I’ll call the guards,” the merchant warned.

“What you gonna tell them? “Officer arrest this man, he hurt my feelings?” Get fucked,” Red flipped the man off before storming off. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he wanted to get away from the crowds.

He ended up back outside, but this time on the balcony attached to what used to be a restaurant, with the wind whipping at his face and rain starting to trickle down. He dug around in his pocket for another cigarette, only to find he’d had his last one. Groaning, he ruffled his blond hair and slumped onto an old rickety chair. At least it was quiet out here. He watched the fat grey clouds drift lazily by. When they were kids, he and Oliver used to try finding funny shapes in the clouds. They’d be laid out on the hill behind their house, the grass tickling their skin, and Oliver would babble excitedly about whatever was on his mind.

Red wished he could remember what was the last thing they talked about. He wanted to think it was something meaningful, like how much he loved his brother and was sorry he picked on him, that he was proud of him, but more than likely it had been something stupid like whether or not birds had teeth.

“Hey,” a voice sounded from behind him.

Red leapt in his chair, almost knocking it over. Dimitri winced, a small smile tugging on his lips. He stood by the doors, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“Sorry. I knocked on the window, you… Obviously didn’t hear,” he said.

“What do you want, Dimitri?” Red said as he sat again, face hot with embarrassment, “You told me to stay away from you.”

Dimitri frowned. “Look… I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’ve been stressed about this journey and the bandits and taking it out on you. That wasn’t fair of me. I want to apologize.”

Red’s brows furrowed, but before he could speak Dimitri was talking again.

“I’m sorry I said you were just going to rob people, I basically implied you were no better than the bandits but that’s not fair. I mean… I saw you with that kid. Saw what you did for him. And I realised I would either be dead by now or sold into slavery if it weren’t for you.”

“No, you would’ve gotten yourself out of that mess,” Red said, “I was just the distraction. Like you said before.”

“No,” Dimitri shook his head, “You weren’t. Well, yes, you were, but you still saved me and I should have shown a little more trust. After all, you didn’t even hesitate to refuse the job, and you didn’t hesitate to help the kid. You’re a good guy, Red.”

Red’s cheeks warmed and he looked everywhere else but at Dimitri’s eyes. “God, you’re sappy,” he mumbled. Dimitri just smiled at him. Red’s chest tightened and he tried to ignore it, but the corners of his lips twitched.

“Can we still travel together?” Dimitri asked softly. His hands clenched and unclenched again.

Red regarded the other man, he could tell the man needed help, that even with his freaky mind powers, he was still a lost little farm boy. It was a little endearing. Red chewed his bottom lip, pretending to think it through. “Aw, you mean I still have to go to this fucking place? I was getting used to not having to do anything.”

“I’ll make it up to you when we get there,” Dimitri said, extending his hand for Red.

Red glanced at the offered hand, then slowly took it. Dimitri pulled him up from the chair, smiling down at Red. His hand was warm and rough, squeezing Red’s as though afraid he were going to back out at any second. Red squeezed him back.

“I suppose I should mention that I essentially gave that kid the last of my money,” Red said.

“It’s okay,” Dimitri said, “He needed it. But I might have a solution. Uh… Have you ever hunted mutants before?”