Wasteland 2087 - Chapter 001

Chapter 1.

         Bright flashes pop to either side of me. The blinding lights are sharp and instant, fading as quickly as they come. I feel myself flinch, and though the pain I anticipate never comes, that's not what bothers me. It's the sound unsettles me most; as if my ears are out of synch with the world, each slow and muffled crack is mismatched to the bursts of light. My body is numb, and my senses dull.

         I look up again to the man who, for whatever reason, I need to reach. He could save me; he could take away this fear. I push on, but the weight of my legs, the pain in my chest... I am so exhausted, but I have to keep going. While the blurring of my vision obscures his face, he radiates safety. I have to reach him. I need to be safe.

         The faster I run, the farther he seems--like I'm running through quicksand. I just want to be safe. As I finally close in on the distant figure, his features blurring with each step... He dissolves entirely into a cloud of smoke. The world around me shifts, and suddenly, I am back in my room. The memory of the dream lingers, clinging to the back of my mind like an ever-present burden that I am meant to bear.

         But I am safe; back in my room! My sense of relief is eclipsed by the rising lump in my throat... I quickly lean over the side of my bed and vomit. My head is pounding, my nose congested, my ears blocked. For normal people, they would fear they are coming down with a terrible virus, but for me... That's just me. That's every day. The nausea will fade soon; I need my tablet. I don't usually vomit in the morning, but Que and Veii stole a bottle of Mr. Tagget's hooch last night and we may have gotten carried away...

         "What the actual hell, Myra!" The voice unmistakably belongs to Veii--my closest friend since childhood--and I know I just painted him in the unholy colour of whatever recently lined my stomach. My hand shoots over my mouth; I can't believe this actually just happened.

         "Veii, I--" My apology falters as I see him sitting there with his arms outstretched and covered in my puke, his expression disgusted and appalled. "I'm sorry?" I manage, sounding like more of a question than an apology.

         "Please tell me you still have water allowance left this month," Veii says, getting to his feet. I slip out of bed and offer him a towel from my dresser as he wrestles free of his stained shirt. I give Veii a worried, remorseful look as I let go of the towel, nodding my head to let him know I still have plenty; it's easy not to overuse when you live alone. Veii's frown disappears as he shifts from anger to pity. He knows better than anyone everything that's wrong with me, and it's clear he regrets his initial outburst. He pulls off his singlet and rubs the side of my shoulder as he passes me on his way to the bathroom.

         Veii is a perfect male specimen, for want of a better description. Thanks to his daily workouts, there is not an ounce of body fat on him. He has the most gorgeous brown eyes, short-cropped black hair, a perfect chiselled jaw line, and a smile which simply melts the hearts of most girls. But I'm not most girls, and I don't see him that way; Veii is more like a brother to me, and we spend way too much time talking about the hot boys at college in our younger days. Sometimes I think Veii has more interest in boys at D-Wing College than me--but that has to be our secret. Interest in the same sex gets you Walked out of the Shelter, according to the Order. I understand half of their ridiculous rules just well enough to hate everything they stand for, which is part of the reason why I am spending this year training for the ASMC.

         The school offers a trainee program for Recon Exploration and Supply cadets--RESy, for short--and RESies get to actually leave the shelter with Recon teams. The alliance military is often viewed as just the strong arm of the Order, but the people who serve usually don't share the same views. They've been outside the shelter. They've seen the Sun; the Earth; the Moon. They have felt fresh breezes, and rain falling--however contaminated it is. It all sounds like a fantasy to me; things we've only read about in books or heard in stories. I can't wait to join a crew and get out of this stifling hell-hole.

         The running water in the shower shuts off, snapping me out of my thoughts. Scanning the floor for my pillbox, I have to kick aside a few shirts crumpled in a mess. I like to keep my room an orderly chaos; organised in such a way that I can find anything I want, but messy enough that no one could break in and send me a message. I spot the small white container and reach for it, "Ah! Gotcha!"

         "You got me alright," Veii concedes as he returns, wearing only a towel around his waist. "You don't have anything I can use, do you?" he asks, holding up his stained shirt. "I can't walk around the shelter in this!"

         "Ah..." Veii is a six-four broad-shouldered mesomorph, and I'm a five-three petite hourglass. The mental image of him walking the shelter in a bra and tiny coat brings a smile to the corner of my mouth. By the sound of his chortle, he must have picked up the same visual.

         "You know what I mean." I do, of course. My mind drifts to a memory of my father, smiling at me the way he always did. The warm reassurance of his expression letting me know everything was going to be alright... Then, like clockwork, my mind betrays me--presenting me with a painful memory that haunts my nightmares. As I watch him being led to the shelter stairs and forced into the wasteland, my smile fades and my brow furrows.

         Veii's hands rub my shoulders; I hadn't noticed him cross the room. "Myra... I'm sorry. Don't worry about it." I feel the sting in my nose and my eyes threatening to water.

         "What? No, it's... Don't be silly. I... Just miss him, that's all." Veii ignores my babbling and pulls me into a warm embrace; after my dad, Veii's cuddles felt the most like home. As I drift there for a moment, sinking into the contact, he doesn't say anything. He knows I need this. After a second of being too comfortable, I wipe the back of my hand across my eyes as I pull away. "...Let's see what we can find, although dad wasn't nearly as broad-shouldered as you."

         Leading Veii out across the hall, I realize it's the first time I've touched Dad's door since he was Walked. My hand hesitates at the handle as another memory floods back to me--reassuring, as if Dad is expressing his approval from beyond. It was the day I realised Veii's affections inclined towards his own gender. I was thirteen at the time; grappling with fear, and with understanding the implications within the Order's doctrines. Yet, in that moment, my father's comforting, calm tone grounded me as he spoke; slow, deliberate, and composed.

         "Mimo, what have I been telling you? As much as the Order keeps us safe, we must remember their protection is not paramount over our freedom. Don't let them fool you; terrorizing people the way they do makes this place more a prison than a sanctuary." For as long as I can remember, my father never quite fell in line with the Order's 'teachings'. It seemed he wanted me to feel the same way. "Veii is a good friend to you! And who he loves or is attracted to is no one's business but his--it's certainly not the Order's. You keep his secret, and don't let anyone come between you."

         Warmth sweeps through my body like a wave, washing away any doubt. I open the door and step through. Everything is exactly how I remember it. His room is neat, tidy, and organised--in stark contrast to my own. On his desk stand pictures of my mother, who I've never met, alongside young awkward pictures of myself. My gaze lingers for a moment. Dad used to say I looked exactly like her, but aside from our shared raven-black hair and brown eyes, I don't see it from the picture. She's beautiful; her face lit up in a confident smile... And she doesn't look constantly sick. I try to push the thought from my mind as I cross the room to the dresser and pick out a nice plain green collared shirt, presenting it to Veii.

         "Dad loved this shirt." His shoulders drop as he accepts it from me. There is hesitation in his eyes.

         "Mye... I can't," he replies.

         "You can and you will, or else face the wrath of my father from the afterlife," I say with a resounding half-smile. I've dropped the proverbial microphone; dead father-wishes cannot be trumped.

         His uncertainty melts into a smile. "I'll bring it back tomorrow," he says, pulling me in for a quick hug before he sets off out of my apartment. I follow him to the door and close it after he leaves, turning around to face the interior. Small dwellings like this were assigned to one-child households. I was fourteen when my father was Walked; typically, I would have been fostered into another family, but my other best friend Quentin's family had volunteered to watch over me. My dad and Quentin's mum were friends, and the apartment wasn't needed for housing since it was already quite small. A kitchenette and lounge are to the left and right of the entrance; a hallway on their far side leads to my room through a door on the left, and my dad's through a door on the right. The bathroom is at the end, which has adjoining doors to the bedrooms. It's the simplest of the shelter dwellings, but it's home for me. I spy the stack of dishes and sigh; I can do that later. The constant throb in my head reminds me of my tablet and I lift the pillbox, hearing a slight rattle as it flips open. There is only one tablet left.

         "Crumpets," I curse to myself; I'll have to visit the pharmacy and pick up a new box. I throw the tablet into my mouth and walk over to the kitchen sink. Banking on a lack of clean glasses, I pour the water into my hand and slurp it up to swallow my tablet.

         Five minutes later, I'm dressed and ready for school with my cracked holobook and water bottle. I leave the serene chaos of my little slice of home for the absolute dense chaos of the Allied Shelter 801 D-Wing!