Emerging into the daylight, I was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of relief, more profound than any I'd felt in a long time. God damn mutant spiders. I’d heard the stories of the undergrounds before, what scavver hadn’t but to have all those scare stories confirmed first hand. Well, let’s just say I’d never dismiss such tales again.
The air, despite being laced with the remnants of smoke and dust, seemed immeasurably sweeter and fresher compared to the stale, suffocating atmosphere we'd endured underground. As I unfolded the map with careful hands, it confirmed our exit point was exactly as I had predicted. We found ourselves just a few city blocks from the southern edge, ideally positioned for our urgent mission to escape the chaos.
In the not-so-distant background, the discordant symphony of machine guns and the dull thump of explosions filled the air. Whether these sounds heralded the ongoing battle between the machines and the Marauders, or were the result of rival gangs clashing, remained unknown. Our curiosity was curbed by a unanimous desire for self-preservation; the city was a lost cause. The prospect of guiding everyone through this warzone unscathed seemed increasingly unattainable.
My gaze then shifted to Beth, who stood in the middle of the street, basking in the warmth of the sun with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that highlighted her beauty against the backdrop of the ruined city. When she caught me staring, her eyes snapped open, fixing me with a 'what the hell are you looking at?' expression.
"Three blocks in that direction and we should be home free," I announced.
"Thank Christ," Ethan sighed, the relief palpable in his voice.
"Three blocks is still three blocks. We're not out of this yet," Beth cautioned, ever the realist among us.
"You couldn't let us have just one moment of optimism, could you?" Ethan retorted, frustration lacing his words.
Beth met his gaze steadfastly, her expression unwavering. "Out here, optimism can get you killed," she stated firmly. "Come on, we're losing daylight."
She was right, of course. The sun had already begun its descent toward the western horizon, and the idea of being caught in the city after dark was far from appealing. As before, we proceeded with caution, adopting a slow and tactical approach. Trevor led the way, with me bringing up the rear. The wrecked cars scattered around provided us with much-needed cover as we navigated down a street flanked by abandoned buildings.
Wandering through such desolation often led me to ponder what life must have been like before. It seemed a world abundant in resources and conveniences: restaurants where food was served directly to your table, clean drinking water available at the turn of a tap, and access to every consumable you could think of. I always imagined that such people must’ve been soft as shit, never wanting for anything. Yet now, in the ruins of this once-plentiful world, humanity found itself embroiled in a bitter struggle for survival. The Marauder gangs, preying on the vulnerable, epitomized this reality. In this world, if you weren't prepared to defend yourself, to fight and kill if necessary, you wouldn't last five minutes in this world.
As we ventured down another street, the urban sprawl began to give way to the suburbs in the distance, suggesting a boundary between the chaos of the city and the relative calm of its outskirts. It was at this moment my radio crackled to life, abruptly pulling me from my reverie. Slowing my pace, I tapped the receiver, straining to discern if there were voices hidden within the static.
"Hold up a sec," I called out to the others. Beth and Ethan quickly came over, while Trevor took up a defensive position behind a nearby car, his rifle scanning the environment for any sign of danger. I adjusted the dial on the side of the radio, and the static momentarily gave way to clarity.
"Con team – we are under- help," a voice broke through, thick with panic.
"It's Jacob," Beth immediately recognized, seizing the radio from my hands. "Jacob? Is that you? Come in, come in!"
Her voice was urgent, filled with concern, as she attempted to re-establish a clearer line of communication.
Beth's attempts to re-establish contact were met with sporadic bursts of static. She adjusted the dial back and forth, trying to find a clearer signal. For a moment, the static lessened, allowing fragments of Jacob's voice to break through.
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"We're pinned down... came from the west... trapped, Dominion," Jacob's voice came through, fraught with urgency and fear.
As Beth absorbed the information, her eyes widened, fear flickering across her face. "The Dominion? Oh God, no," she whispered, her voice quivering as dread took hold. "We'll never make it to them in time."
Trevor hefted his rifle.
“If we hurry we can get there.”
“It’d mean travelling cross country in the dark. There’s no way we make it back before sunset,” Ethan replied.
Beth swore loudly in frustration. I could feel her frustration. Hell, I felt it. Despite only being with these people a few days I felt a connection with them. Afterall, they had saved my life, fed me and gave me a safe place to rest my head. My mind raced and then my eye settled on a faded street sign. It said 24th Street.
“I may have an idea. It’s risky,” I said. “Beth, hand me the radio.”
She looked at me with distrust in her eyes before passing it back to me.
“Take cover behind those vehicles and make sure you get a clear line of sight on the street.”
“What are you planning scavver?” she asked.
“I’m going fishing for a ride and I’m the bait,” I replied with a wink.
The others followed my instructions and darted across the street to find cover behind some wrecked cars. I took a deep breath, lifted the radio, and began scanning through the channels. It didn't take long to intercept some chatter from a Marauder group.
"Hey, fucknuts, if you're after some decent loot and looking for payback after that robot fiasco, come find me on 24th Street. I'm itching to take down a few more of you assholes," I taunted with all the bravado I could muster. The response from the Marauder on the other end was as furious as it was predictable, amusing even, if the circumstances weren't so grim.
"Who the fuck is this? Wait—you're the bastard that sicced those bots on us. We lost twenty guys because of you, you piece of shit. You're dead, a dead man walking!"
"You want me, then come and get me, shithead."
*
The sound of approaching vehicles quickly filled the air, signalling that the Marauders had taken the bait, just as I had anticipated. Despite them being a bunch of murdering raping bastards most Marauder gangs functioned on some fucked up imitation of a code of honour. When one was killed the others had to avenge them like some petty gangster shit.
I positioned myself to face down the street as two modified pickup trucks roared into view. The lead vehicle boasted a machine gun and gunner, mirroring the setup of one the robots had annihilated at the crossroads. The second truck was unarmed; instead, it carried five goons in its bed, eager for conflict. I stood my ground, my hand hovering near my holster, as the hot-headed fools drove straight into my trap. The first truck halted abruptly in front of me, its gas mask-clad gunner swivelling the gun to aim directly at me. I managed a defiant smile, fighting back the instinctive fear.
The second truck came to a stop, and the Marauders jumped out, each brandishing makeshift weapons. One held a rifle constructed from rusty pipes, while another brandished a machete forged from scrap metal. Their attire was a patchwork of clothing reinforced with metal plates for armour. From the first truck, a tall, muscular man emerged. A spike pierced his pointed nose, and his head was shaved except for a single spiky tuft on his forehead. He fixed a piercing glare on me before striding over, radiating aggression. Coming face-to-face, he pressed his forehead against mine, trying to intimidate me. I didn't flinch. Over the years, I'd dealt with plenty of toughs like him.
The marauder's breath was hot and reeked of decay, and I wrinkled my nose at the stench.
“You were the one who led those bots to my camp huh? You get a load of my men killed and then what? You wanna bargain or something? You stupid?” he snarled in a thick latino accent.
“I just want your truck,” I answered nonchalantly with a shrug.
The Marauder’s eyes widened in fury.
“Are you fuckin kidding me?”
I held his glare.
Around us, the street seemed to hold its breath, the usual sounds of distant skirmishes and the whisper of wind through ruined buildings momentarily silenced by the drama unfolding. The marauder's comrades shifted restlessly behind him, their weapons at the ready, waiting for a word, a signal, anything to unleash violence. I never gave the fucker the chance. With years of practised ease I drew my Glock and in one fluid motion sucker punched the Maruader leader. I felt his nose break under the impact and as he staggered back I stepped forward pressed my gun to his sternum and emptied the clip.
Then, the tension shattered. The first sound was a sharp crack, echoing off the buildings, as Beth, from her concealed position, opened fire. It was the signal for hell to break loose. Trevor and Ethan, hidden until now, emerged from their cover, their own weapons barking death to the marauders. I pulled the now dead Maruader close using him as a human shield and his body jerked as return fire slammed into it covering me in blood. With a grunt I threw myself backwards, not letting go of the corpse. Meanwhile Trevor, Ethan and Beth picked off the other stunned Maruaders.
Caught completely by surprise, they’d scrambled for their guns, but it was too late. Beth's precision and the strategic surprise of our ambush left them disoriented, struggling to mount any form of defence. The gunner, turning towards the source of the gunfire, managed to get off a few rounds before a well-placed shot from Ethan took him down.
In a matter of seconds, it was over. The street, once tense with impending violence, now lay quiet, save for the groans of the wounded and the dying. I shoved the bullet riddled corpse off of me and got to my feet.
“That was insane!” Ethan barked clearly high with adrenaline.
I walked over to the lead truck, pushing the deceased driver out of the seat. Climbing in, I pressed the gas pedal.
"You guys want a lift?" I called out with a smile.