The two hands of the Devil

Chapter 5 – Oasis

The desert.

The desert now ruled the world, this was especially true for what had once been the United States of America, which were now covered for the ninety percent by the sands.

The world had been destroyed by a sudden climate change, soon becoming an arid ball of dirt in the galaxy. Its inhabitant had gotten used to this climate, more or less, as who hadn’t managed had been brought away as ashes by the wind.

Earth had lost countless of the modern innovations that had changed it in the place where life was easy. After the Change, it had been brought back to structures that, even though were lacking of personal freedom, were way easier to maintain.

Feudal kingdoms in the lands of the East, nomadic clans in the steppes to the west, small independent republics that stood as lighthouses in a dark sea, in what had once been Australia.

In what had once been the American Continent there had been a sudden role inversion. Whatever was north of the old Mexican border had become a barbaric no man’s land, as a weak government tried to issue declaration that nobody was following anymore.

All that it was south of the Border, instead, had developed as a coalition of states allied together under one banner.

In the Angels Desert, as it was known in these troubled times, which now composed the majority of the old United States, two figures moved slowly on tired horses.

The first one was that of a man inhumanly big, always covered from head to toe by a coal black duster, he and his horse moved naturally under the torrid sun, as if they didn’t felt the hot waves that spread out around them.

The second figure, instead, was that of a woman, or better what had once been a woman. Under the overheated solar rays, she seemed now only a dried version of a human being.

“Come on, Miss Fortune. Soon you’ll be able to drink as much as you want. We’re almost to Oasis. ”

Behind him, the woman could only whimper desperately as she felt her own lips much too dry to even speak. At this, the colossus, almost began to laugh, only to keep silent when he caught the murderous glare of the woman.

“Sorry.”

They kept riding in silence, passing over dunes and forgotten wreckage of the old world until, as soon as the next dune was behind them, it appeared in front of them, the only rest zone for the entire area.

The city known as Oasis.


That city had been known with a different name before the day of the Change. It had always been a place where illegal games and prostitution could be found aplenty and, even though hundreds of years had passed, the situation wasn’t different.

And even though it was the only place where it was possible to replenish supplies before the Desert, it was still known to be a thieve's den to anyone coming into it.

As soon as the city was on the horizon, Miss Fortune sprinted forward, galloping toward the city and toward the huge fountain which stood at its center, the most opulent sign of the riches in the city.
Warmonger tried to follow her closely but neither him, nor his steed, were built for speed.

The woman didn’t seem to be worried though, she was thinking only of the water awaiting her, almost feeling its freshness on her skin.


The town folks living in Oasis were divided in three, basic, categories.

On the surface there were the Starved, the poorest of the three, those who were prey of the other two and who had grown so full of debts that to call them slaves could have been only a step up in their positions.

Then there were the Rats, these while trying to survive cheating and trading whatever was available, were basically the eyes and the ears of the third inhabitants of Oasis.

The Crime Lords and their gangs.

These rulers lived underground, in a complex of opulent structures that had once been a fully functional system of metro stations. Along with them there were their cohorts, from the simple brutes to the trusted lieutenants, along with a veritable army of prostitutes, kept there as cattle for the needs of all.


On the surface, both the Starved and the Rats, saw this lonely figure run through the gates of the city but none of them was surprised in seeing it run straight toward the fountain. For they had often seen fools who had tried to go through the desert on their own, always seeing them coming back sickly thin and almost completely dried up.

What kept up their interest was principally the fact that the figure who had jumped straight into the fountain was that of a woman. Dozens of eyes began to watch her from the shadows, as voices began to relay messages underground to their own masters in exchange of a small amount of riches.

Miss Fortune emerged from the water feeling full of life. And even though full, she knelt in the water, kept pure through the use of a water purifier, and drank avidly until she was full to bursting, her own once toned and slim belly, now sloshing full to the brim. Only then she moved out of the fountain, sitting on the edge, as she massaged her overfull stomach.

As soon as she had seated dozens of figures moved toward her, surrounding her and started begging and asking. She was, too full to even think about them and, without even the time to acknowledge their presence, she soon felt dozens of hands, moving on her body, rifling through her pockets as they took away from her whatever they could.

As she started to weakly protest, the mass of people suddenly moved away, grabbing what loot they had managed to sneak from her and scurrying away as five men richly dressed reached her and surrounded her, leaving a comfortable looking sedan chair near themselves.


“Good Morning, Miss…?”

“Miss…*uff*…Fortune”

“Good Morning, Miss Fortune. We’re here in the name of Lord Sirius, Mayriff of the town of Oasis. Our Lord would like to invite you in his private residence, if it would be of your pleasure.”

The woman stared in confusion a those men, suddenly feeling all the tiredness of the trip on her shoulders. She made to tell them she was waiting for someone but, those men, ignoring her weak protests, lifted her and left her on the sedan chair, moving then toward one of the access tunnel toward the underground complex.

Miss Fortune, between her sleepiness, the fresh content feeling of being again full of water and the slow and gentle movements of the sedan chair, fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

When Warmonger arrived at Oasis, he tried to look around in search of her partner, without any results. Only after discussing, “peacefully and amiably”, with some of the local Rats he managed to get some information, although none of her current whereabouts.

And that, he knew, was already a clue toward the culprit to her disappearance. His stare moved from the filthy street toward one of the underground access.

If nobody spoke of it, not even as he was dying , it could only mean that one of the Crime Lords had taken her.

Warmonger moaned in discomfort.

He hated the small and tight places, as the tunnel usually were, but, as he clung tightly to the woman golden guns he had recovered, he knew there was nothing to it.

He would have never left His Woman in the filthy hands of those jackals.