Techlock and I made our way out of the black market's back alleys, dipping through dirty gutters and ditches past the stuttering graphics of illegally obtained old tech holos and gleaming mid-tech neon signs. There weren’t a lot of people in this area, given the price and importance of the merchandise here, so we made our way quickly and uncared for.
Which was good, because if anyone here had wanted to know what was in our packs, they would have found a lot of gear worthy of interest.
I adjusted the straps of my pack, mentally inventorying the items I carried. It was a dusty-green canvas affair with the enigmatic works US Army stenciled along its side in black paint at some time long past. The bag itself hooked nicely to a metal frame whose small bits of cut dangling circuitry suggested it might have been some sort of early mech exoskeleton back in its heyday; something that would have helped its users lug lots of gear over hard terrain quickly.
Which would have been nice in the current situation. The bag was compartmentalized and quite heavy. Its first compartment was filled with ruin-scavenging essentials: durable, reinforced heavy work clothes to resist tears and electrical shock, steel-toed plasti-inlined heavy work boots, a utility vest with multiple pockets, a mid-tech all-in-one multi-tool, a heavy mid-tech battery powered electro-scanner, a ribbon of extra batteries, a grappling hook, a single torchlight, glow sticks, a ripsaw, wire cutters, a compact hack-picker, a lockpicking kit, a collapsible shovel, various small blades for skinning and harvesting, wickedly curved high-quality daggers for defense, a med-kit, anti-venom, and antidotes.
The middle compartment was packed with survival gear, a fact that I initially balked at given the time limit on my bracer. Techlock had rolled his eyes and fiddled with it a bit before we left, saying that we’d be back before time was up, but that he’d also delayed the count as much as possible. With his hack, I had about 5 days to get home.
Which was little comfort considering the gear he had me carrying. It felt like he was planning for a month. Alongside a laminated map sat an old-tech emergency ‘squall’ beacon, a camouflage green compass, a week’s worth of water and food supplies, a compact tent, blankets, a firestarter kit, loot storage containers, a rad detector, a repair kit, a notebook and pen, binoculars, and a few other old-tech gadgets, their purposes yet to be discovered.
I grumbled, thinking about it, and Techlock cast me a curious glance.
“Double-thinking our arrangement, Alaric?”
We were out of the city now, and well into the start of the Wilds. The cobblestones and paving had given way to thicker, darker forest loam layered in dead leaves, all slowly declining towards a valley yet unseen. Above us, the foliage was dense and the sun struggled to come through, dappling instead of shining and turning everything into a dim, green glow.
It was honestly a bit nice, taking in the scent of pine and damp earth, away from the oil and grease of the city.
I shook my head.
“Nah. I’m just wondering why I have to do all the carrying.”
Techlock stopped walking, regarding me from behind his mask.
“I’m a bean sprout, Alaric. Tall, lean, and not built for heavy things. Which is good for you, because otherwise, I’d probably not need your services. Besides, isn’t this better than hanging out in your little shop, doing odd jobs for other poors?”
He looked down at me from his high perch, and I briefly wondered about how satisfying it might be to reach up and grab that long, thin beard of his, tugging it hard like a church bell tether.
I chuckled at the thought, and he sighed.
“Yeah, I find the idea funny as well. Now, be a good little pack mule, and let’s try to get to the bunker with all haste. The fact that it is so close and yet has never been discovered before means that there should be a great deal of great loot inside. It also means that the place will be swarmed over once its existence is fully revealed. Come,” he said, striding forward again in long-legged lopes down the slope before us.
I gave my ruck a quick readjustment, pulling its straps and hopping in place to give it the tightest fit, then followed after. Crunching over leaves and listening to the twitter and flight of birds, it was just a few hours before we got to the place marked on Techlock’s map.
It was a set of bluffs that overlooked a white-water river. The sound of rushing water filled the air, a constant liquid rush that felt extraordinarily calming. I closed my eyes, imagining having the freedom to come here often and to just lie down and relax, maybe while reading a good book.
Opening them back up, I took note of the rest of it. From the banks of the river, the walls of the river valley rose steeply, chaotic outcroppings of cracked rock alongside patches of muddy soil. They were dotted with thorny bushes and I suddenly felt a pang of hunger as I noticed patches of ripe, red raspberries glistening in the sunlight.
The ruins of an old dam stood nearby, cracked and broken halfway down its middle. Water cascaded over the semi-circular breach in its center, creating a waterfall that sparkled as it fell, only to foam as it hit the river and rocks below.
“Probably chemical runoff,” Techlock sighed. “Not sure we packed the right gear. The heavy work suit will help though. What do you think, Alaric? Should we don the suits now, or save them for when we get inside?”
The day was hot and sunny, pleasant as we were dressed now. I could imagine that turning to a sweaty horror though if we were clad in the suits before climbing the bluffs to the Gods knew where.
“I don’t even know where we’re going, Techlock. But I do know one thing. I’m gonna go get some of those berries first. Won’t take too long!”
Before he could respond, my pack was on the ground and I was stepping my way down, the broken surface of the bluffs offering up a tremendous number of easy foot and handholds. I had to go through a set of barren bushes, and these I bypassed as gingerly as I could, the thorns just barely scratching the flesh of my forearms as I went on through.
Arriving at a wide stretching bush of berries, I dug in, taking them by the handful. The first went straight into my mouth, and I bit down. An explosion of taste followed. They were amazing! The rest went into my work pockets as Techlock watched from above, tapping his foot on the edge of the drop to signal it was time to move on.
As I continued to pick, I glanced over at the ruined dam. The thing was obviously ancient, yet there it still was, hanging on amid a raging river.
“Hey, Techlock,” I called out, my voice echoing slightly off the rocks. “Have you ever wondered who built that dam? And what caused it to fall apart like that?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Techlock paused, looking up from his own task, his eyes following my gaze to the dam.
“Every time I get a chance to see old tech, I wonder. Everything from then was amazing. So much power. So much worth. Us humans are nothing compared to what we once were,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. “Which is why we need to get moving. Get your ass back up here, that’s enough berries!”
I laughed.
“Yeah, fair enough. So, where do we go from here?”
Techlock studied the dam intently before pointing to its far bottom corner.
“Right there where the dam meets dirt. Was uncovered not long ago, but I can’t see it now. I bet it got silted over. Shouldn’t take much to uncover it.”
I squinted in the direction he indicated, noticing a section of the dam that looked more intact than the rest.
“Yeah, alright. How are we gonna get over there?”
Techlock chuckled from behind his mask.
“You’re the parkour guy, Alaric. You’re going to have to cross the river or leap the gap in the dam. Then you can throw me a line so I can pull myself over.”
I glanced down at the rushing white-water river below us, its foamy currents looking anything but inviting.
“Cross the river or leap the gap? Not really my expertise, but it looks doable. Let’s head over to the dam. I’d rather jump than swim.”
I climbed back up to where Techlock stood, sliding back into my pack. We started walking towards our destination, making our way past a large boulder and narrowly missing the telltale whitish green of radiant nettles. I let out a tense hiss when I saw them, imagining the week of itching that would have followed had any part of us touched them.
Ducking and twisting through a dense copse of birch and cedar, we finally got to the side of the dam. A rusty fence blocked our path, its metal links twisted and overgrown with thorny vines. A locked gate stood in the center, the padlock covered in rust.
“Great,” I muttered, setting down my pack and pulling out the lockpicks. “Just what we needed.”
Techlock stepped forward, his eyes glinting with interest.
“Lock looks shit, but if it’s old tech, I bet it still functions like new. Meaning I can work it. Just give me a second to crack it.”
I handed him the lockpicks, watching as he deftly worked the lock. His fingers moved swiftly, each twist and turn of the picks letting out grinding clicks and soft metallic squeals. After a moment, it clicked open and Techlock looped it out of the gate latch, letting it fall into the leaf litter beneath us. He grabbed the gate and yanked it open with a torturous squeak, before stepping aside and gesturing for me to head on through.
“Nice work,” I said, taking back the picks and slipping them into my pack, before shrugging it all back over my shoulders.
“Wasn’t a hard one,” Techlock replied, stepping through behind me. “Was a Miltech R-Grade. Government standard. More of a ‘Please Don’t’ than a ‘You Won’t’. Got a few of them in my shop.”
We made our way along the cracked and uneven walkway. It was quite wide, but patches of it looked untrustworthy, degraded by time, or in some cases, possibly compact. I stared in awe at the fewer weapon-grade craters that marked the top of the dam, imagining what sort of catapults could have caused them. The rocks had to have been massive, I realized.
Or fired with gunpowder. I shivered to think of it. The stuff we had was unreliable and aimed poorly. But the Church said in the Wicked Times of old, they were more powerful than a bow fired by a hundred men.
And I believed it. I once got to see an old-tech rifle get fired in a public demonstration by the Duke. The weapon’s barrel was much thinner than a new tech rifle, and with a single shot, he was able to splatter a line of 20 melons before blowing a hole through the metal plate he had placed at the end of the line.
I shook my head of the thoughts, instead focusing on the gap. I stepped over some weathered debris, blown branches, and scattered stones, scanning the other side for a good landing spot to grab onto. Here the sound of the river and subsequent waterfall grew louder, the white water churning and foaming as it cascaded over the broken dam.
When we reached the gap, I paused, assessing the distance. It was a doable jump, but what got me was the drop. If I failed, I’d fall hard into the waterfall, then get sucked down a raging rapids through huge rocks and certainly be brained, then drowned. I cast a questioning look back at Techlock, who answered with a large body-encompassing shrug.
“Yeah, fine, I can do it,” I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as him.
I dropped my pack and retrieved the grappling hook, threading it with sturdy rope. With a few practiced swings, I launched the hook across the gap, watching it catch securely onto a metal protrusion on the other side. I tied the end of the rope around my waist, making sure the knot was tight and secure.
Taking a deep breath, I took a running start and leaped across the gap. For a heart-stopping moment, I was suspended in mid-air, the roar of the waterfall filling my ears. Then my feet touched down on the other side, small rocks sliding out behind me to fall into the roaring water. Pin-wheeling my arms, I pushed my balance forward and just barely kept my space, dropping to my knees and yelling incoherent excitement into the sky.
“Nice jump,” Techlock called out, his voice carrying a note of admiration.
“Thanks,” I said. I untied the grappling rope from my waist and unhooked it from the rock, then turned and threw it to Techlock's side where he secured it as well as he could. I tied the rope to a boulder on my side, using a tight no-slip knot, then shot him a thumbs up. “Your turn. I’ve got the rope anchored.”
Techlock gave me a thumbs-up and began to pull himself across, hand over hand. His movements were steady and precise, if a bit shaky, and soon enough he was standing beside me on my side of the dam.
“Made it,” he said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Now, let's find that bunker.”
We moved forward, reaching another gate blocking our path. This one was just as rusty as the previous one, but it didn’t look as secure. I waited for Techlock to work the lock. This time, it took even less time, and with a satisfying click, the gate swung open and we stepped through.
Beyond the gate, the path was overgrown with thick foliage. We pushed our way beyond, the thorny branches scratching at our clothes and skin. The air was filled with the stink of itchweed, so we moved slowly, making sure we didn’t touch anything that didn’t want to be touched.
We reached the edge of the bluffs and began our careful descent. The thorny branches made the climb tricky, but as we went I noticed some more berry bushes chock full of fat, ripe raspberries and I couldn’t help myself. I paused to grab a few more handfuls, popping them into my mouth.
“Really?” Techlock asked, before chuckling. “Ah, yes, I understand. Serfs don’t really get much fruit, do they?”
“The basic rule of serfdom is if you can buy it and it is fruit, it tastes bad,” I said, grinning. My teeth were already stained bright red.
He laughed and continued his descent and I followed, carefully navigating the rest of the thorny branches and loose rocks. After a short while, we finally reached the bottom.
There, a narrow ledge ran along the base of the dam. The roar of the waterfall was deafening, and a heavy spray of mist rolled over us, covering our sweaty bodies. We peered about the place, and kicked at the dirt, before seeing the first patch of clearly artificial and supernaturally strong plasti-steel. It was a patch of wall that had letters and numbers engraved into it, and I traced my fingers over them as I read them out loud.
“HYDRO-BUNKER 3A, MIDWEST. US CIV CORPS XI. Any idea what that all means?” I asked without bothering to look up.
I could see the shadow of Techlock move closer as he read it over my shoulder.
“Not much. The US thing appears a lot on old tech. Makes me wonder if our ancestors weren’t maybe a political collective. No serfs or kings, just everyone helping everyone.”
“That sounds nice,” I replied.
Techlock laughed.
“Sounds to me like a place where no work would get done. Speaking of, let’s get this cleaned up and find the opening hatch. And the electro-lock.”
I set down my backpack and got out the collapsible shovel, while he searched for the hacking device. Assembling the shovel, I quickly shoved and threw dirt out of the way, easily displaying the bunker access door and its electro-lock console to the outside world.
“Alright, let’s get to work,” Techlock said, pulling out his hacking device. “Come close and pay attention. You might learn something.” He knelt and began to brush away the remaining silt and debris, before fingering over the port and pinholes on the side of the electronic keyboard of the lock. Threading wire from his hacking device, he plugged a rainbow of cords from it into the lock, then paused as the screen scrambled, displaying a series of strange characters alongside a smattering of real words.
I watched him closely. It was all easy enough to follow, and I was rather sure I could emulate him in a pinch if necessary.
Kneeling, he typed the first of the words into the lock and yelled a fat big “YES!” into the sky when the console beeped. The entry lock began to grind and click then, clear sounds that it was about to open.
“Ready for some good scavenge?” he asked.
I nodded, mesmerized. I’d never been in a bunker that hadn’t been pre-cleared. This was going to be something else.