Chapter 25

Luke said he was taking him to a paradise, and he didn't mean it by boat, but rather by air. Pausing, William was shocked to glimpse that the most exquisite form of transportation would be soon before him. Helicopters and planes were extravagant and only useful for large-scale operations, or missions by the greatest organizations of the present world.

Walkers usually didn't need them as much, for obvious reasons of waste, or lacking time or choice. Some missions required them, however, since Walkers had limited hands. Retrieving young Walkers with such tools seemed like a waste, which William assumed straight away.

He would be surprised how far some Walkers went to reach and secure talented youths, or places, or their choices or missions. He had yet to realize the weight of his past, nor what the Federation was truly about, or who that person behind Luke was.

He wasn't clueless; he had the highest regard for the Emblem Academy, which was one of the most mysterious places around this world, followed by the Federation, which was the biggest deal for most camps. It wasn't as mysterious, as it was seen as a powerful place that was like a king among the camps and this land.

Most people from Outside called it paradise because of its reclusive and lofty stories and reputation. William had never visited it, like most folks around here, living Outside for all their life.

William heard a lot about planes and aviation because of his personal interest. People used to travel overseas, flying at ridiculous speeds across the continents in a few hours for so-called trips and vacations. For him, that was an unbelievable and stupid waste of time and resources.

William hopped on the back of the motorcycle, clung to Luke's body, and checked on this bike with his foot. The bang was heavy, dull, yet sharp. This whole machine was sturdy and made of steel. Not old. Refurbished. It felt brand new in many ways. With the bag over his shoulder, he hoped it wouldn't fall off, and that the old leather strip was better than ancient artificial leather.

He had different worries than his back; he was hesitant and unprepared for what was to come. No one would be in his position. Youngsters like him Outside couldn't possibly think of the heavens while knowing mud, even if some might be more talented than others, holding some secrets, or hopes in their bodies.

William decided to lessen his worries by not thinking of any doubts. He looked back, seeing nobody, and then the bike. It was a wonderful machine that was trembling and screaming. There was no running anymore. There was no survival. He wasn't a coward. Not all the time. In his mind.

“Don't be so nervous, William,” Luke said, masking a bit of his voice thanks to the growling engine.

“You can tell that I am nervous?” William asked, not noticing the change in Luke's mannerisms by calling his name. “You don't need to care about me, sir. Isn't it normal to be nervous?”

“Your hands are shaking. I was once like you too, although in different circumstances, age, time, place, and... well, we are completely different. Ha! You are Gale! Fucking hell, I am speaking way too much today. My mouth hurts.” Luke spitted to the ground and waited for the engine to heat up. He eyed the empty front yard and open gate to the street.

“Walkers, eh? I thought only ordinary personnel; those helping the Walkers, would check recruits such as me. It isn't a test, right? Walkers aren't needed for this sort of work, or is it different this time? You are a Division Walker, sir. Is it because of those who look for me, or what is this get-up? It feels odd. I've seen youths like me going away many times. Walkers like you... I mean, the Yondu Division is famous!”

“Look who is so curious? Walkers or youngsters, as long as they grow safe, who cares about their details? Tests are only good at due time, but there are some exceptions, do you know that?”

William scoffed and didn't reply, knowing very well that his Emblem wasn't normal, but did they know it? How could it be?! How abnormal was this situation, if that's the case? He lacked critical information besides his personal feelings, knowledge, and assurances. Some of that might be lacking or way too terrible.

He needed information. Proper Walkers. Organization to see, and places to ask. He wasted time, waiting for nothing, even if a chance had been pending for a long time right before his face. The moment Luke spoke of his family, he completely disregarded his Emblem, or the Emblem came forth instead. It shouted, screaming, and spreading like flames guiding his emotions.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Blame Outside for that, or... my past. Seriously, sir Irwin, what is going on?”

“Orders, boy, and who knows what else hides behind them. Oh, let me say it. Walkers. It is like that, you see. They looked for you. I came just because of them. The past lookout from ten years ago was that too, by the way, but let's not go there yet. We will have this conversation later and in a better place. Before that, don't fall off.” Luke chuckled, didn't wear any helmet like William, and the engine was ready.

A sharp sound and churning huffs pounded the ears, and even the thick exhaust put out numerous puffs of smoke. The sound was impressive, unfamiliar, and hard, penetrating the eardrums and echoing around camp Roshwell. It was that kind of sound that William hadn't heard often.

“Wow! This is a traditional motorcycle. Not solar one?” William gasped, but before he had a chance to hear Luke's answer, a gust of wind stopped his thinking and talking, quivering his fingers and voice. The sheer speed this motorcycle went forward was unlike any horse, or pig William had ever rode. Followed by a sharp turn to a proper street, he almost fell.

A chance to drive such vehicles was only for certain professions or the military. Repairs, manufacturing, high-rank officers, and makers of such machines had such privileges.

But as far as William knew, fuel for these beloved machines, or very powerful tools was very precious around the camps. There was only one shop that worked with such things openly, and very few got to see them or work with them. They were making many parts for the Federation here, and some Enginists and Machinists could make them personally if they could or wanted.

Camps weren't just farmland, but another place with enough people to put some worth into large-scale facilities. It was more like a gamble, a stake that the Federation had to use no matter what, even if it required sacrifices because of the open Outside. But this openens was no prison. It was an opportunity. A required one.

The Federation itself was much bigger, filled with bigger facilities, countless workshops, and factories that would dwarf the camps. But land was limited and people were too.

Thus, William took this speed for granted and grasped Luke's back.

The air was hitting his face, but he powered through it and glanced forward and around him. This camp was his home for two years.

Before it was too late, William looked behind him with resolution. Dann, who was there together to survive in these lands, was left behind.

“See you again, Dann,“ William mumbled, and by some miracle, he noticed a head poking from the upper floors, followed by a fist. Dann was shaking his arm vigorously, thought it was a bit too late for some grand farewell.

Luke turned the street and the orphanage was no longer visible.

Dann no longer saw the motorcycle that he wished to ride, albeit he still heard that noise.

“Well,” Dann stopped waving and leaned from the window. “I hope you will have some future as a Walker. One way or another, it is what you should do and will do better than many.”

Everyone had their stakes. Dann had his own as well. His life carried dreams. One of the better things he accomplished was now gone, but who cared about it? Not him! Shaking his head, he couldn't help being dejected.

SMACK! Dann slapped his own cheek, still hanging from the window with his upper body, knowing he couldn't slap William today, or soon.

“Call it a good future, DANNY!” Dann shouted for the whole camp to hear, bearing witness to his passion. Grinning in peace of mind and bits of sadness, he clutched his fist and decided on many things.

Getting back inside, he entered the room that he paid for with determination on his face. He remembered the day he met William and knew this was inevitable. Small kids survived something that many Walkers couldn't but who even knew about it? Who would believe it? Who would care? Frankly, some things better remain in the darkness. Where they belonged.

Not many adults cared for stories coming from children. Not only they could be fake, hoping for attention, but they could be full of holes.

The survival and journey afterward weren't too lonely. Dann knew it. They couldn't survive alone, so they went with many refugees and took shelter where they could. Settlements, bunkers, or camps didn't matter very often.

William mattered more.

“You have your own life too, Danny,” Dann said to himself. “William is special. I am not. It isn't as if I am losing my life here, while the Walkers are protecting everything left and many die for that sake. Darks! Crash them, William. All of them.” He hyped William from afar, over-thinking and imagining things that could not possibly calm him down.

Sitting on his chair, he leaned on a sturdy-looking wood that screeched, making awful sounds. It was one way to get a headache, while the legs could crack. Yet, it didn't stop him from watching the ceiling, which was his for the past year, with the last one being ahead.

Now, he had to leave this room for others. With William gone, there was nothing here besides some young Walkers half his age, or slightly older. Well, he scoffed at such thoughts. Some children didn't matter. He didn't know them anyway, though he understood how this place worked.

Those child Walkers will soon disappear. They were precious resources. It was a belief set into the minds of many people Outside.

It was a rather peaceful time, though he could describe the previous orphanages being like that as well. Until it wasn't. Darks attacked many places, so being on the lookout or moving was always right. Dann had seen sights of nightmares that he wished he would never see again, with William being the same.

So far, the current landscape of camps held around two dozen camps in total, with very few being like Roshwell. On average, smaller ones lasted two years because too many Darks would start to desire them, no matter how many Walkers would come to them for protection or not. Frankly, sending a big one would appease them instead, burning the camps sooner rather than later.

It was better to be stealthy, not overstepping some boundaries, even if bigger camps had much more resources, while too many spread-out assignments were troublesome.