“Tell that lazy fucker while I am gone. If he does not sort the rota out, I will assign him permanent patrol duty.” John shouted as he walked out of the guard dormitory carrying a large backpack on his shoulder. The factory production had got back up to speed. Stan had returned from his sister’s and, within an hour of being at the factory, had got the sixth pounder working again. Silver had been even more furious finding out how easy a fix it had been after the way he had been conned by the lad who had offered repairs.
John had spoken to Silver about trying to locate Golgo’s group or at least find whether there was any truth in a local township producing its own fuel. They had both agreed that if it was true and they could locate a fuel supplier, it would be an excellent addition to the business. The number of stacks it would save them in fuel transporting finished goods would be huge if they brought them onboard. Silver was not worried if this was through a joint decision or forced.
John was going to search along with Kristoff. They had been given one of the small trucks to use, and John was a competent driver from his raider days. Unfortunately, Kristoff had no idea how to drive, so John would have to do it all. He was unhappy about it, but they could not spare any other drivers due to their delivery schedule.
Kristoff was already sitting in the truck waiting for John. He walked out of the factory gates, shouting one last abusive order at the gate guard, and threw his backpack into the back before climbing into the driver’s seat.
“So, which way are we heading first?” Kristoff asked. He had an ancient and faded map on his lap. Not everything was still legible on it, but it would be better than nothing. They knew of various townships on it, mainly the larger ones they had dealings with, but several smaller ones were labelled as well. The problem was that new townships would be settled without others knowing. All it took was a determined group to get together and set one up. John did not think that a township producing its own fuel could be large and was probably hidden, considering the value of the fuel.
“I do not think it will be one we know. I doubt they are advertising that they make fuel considering its value.” John stated.
“Sniffer had been heading West when he met the scouting party tracking the bitch, and they had not found anything. It may be worth trying South first. There are many abandoned towns, and I am not even sure they have ever been settled, so it should be easy to find if a new one has been set up.” John said.
“Sounds like as good a plan as any. How much did the boss give us for supplies?” Kristoff asked.
“Not much, you know how tight he is. It should be enough for a couple of weeks, though.” He replied.
“Town first, then to stock up, I guess,” Kristoff said.
“Yeah,” John replied, starting the engine and pulling off, heading towards the township.
After visiting the trading post for rations and Jack’s to collect a crate of nectar, they set off heading south towards the uninhabited area of the region. John knew that this whole journey could be pointless. There had been no confirmation of any fuel being produced, and he had checked with Tom and Lou at the radio post, and no chatter had been heard. He was content, though, with driving around for a couple of weeks and not having to deal with the shit at the factory.
He enjoyed his job, and he got pleasure from the torment and pain he could inflict on the slaves, but it was nice to relax now and again. During his raiding days, he always looked forward to the time between raids when scout parties were out, and he got to laze around at their encampment, abusing their captives. It was a shame that Silver would not allow them to have fun with the slaves at the factory as a couple from the new batch he thought would be fighters. He smiled at his memories.
“You look happy?” Kristoff asked.
“Just thinking about my raiding days,” John replied.
The journey was slow going. None of the roads appeared to be travelled, and they spent more time clearing a route for the truck to get through on several occasions over travelling. In the evenings, they would stop and build a fire to cook rations before settling into the truck to sleep, although they took turns keeping guard in case of Wild Ones. This part of the region appeared untouched. They had no idea who or what may be out there. They eventually made their way onto one of the main routes labelled on the map. It was labelled Route 75, and if they could follow it, it would take them to several larger city areas. The largest on the current route was a place called Atlanta. John had never been in this part of the south, which was unknown territory. His raiding days had been in the Northeast, mainly raiding between Maine and New Jersey, although they had moved further afield if the pickings were too low. The cotton plantations he had moved to had been in South Carolina.
Once they had made it to the trunk road, the journey had become slightly more manageable due to the width of the roads; although still severely overgrown and in disrepair, they could travel a little faster. It was on the sixth day that they first saw the skeletal remains of Atlanta. Several huge multi-storey buildings could be seen at a distance, and as they neared the city, it appeared as though many had been bombed or hit during the combat that followed the falling. The shattered remains of which were visible. Looking at the city's state as they entered the outskirts, it had seen some severe fighting. There were few buildings which did not show signs of combat with bullet holes and the dilapidated burnt-out remains of buildings everywhere. Even the tallest structures that still stood now looked like massive behemoth trees sprouting vines and greenery, and very few windows had remained intact, with the buildings appearing to have opened their insides to the abundant nature.
It was always strange when he saw the size of the cities and thought about the number of people who must have lived there at some point. John knew the largest settlement these days was New Talisia in the North. That was in an area called Michigan, and there had once been a large city called Detroit before a new township had been settled and named New Talisia. He was unsure of its population but knew it had to be more than several thousand.
As they travelled the deserted streets, they saw no signs of human life. All they could hear were Wild Ones flying overhead or calling over the rumbling of the vehicle engine.
“This place is deserted,” Kristoff said.
“Yeah, I do not think anyone has been here,” John replied.
“I am not sure staying on the main routes is helping. We have not come across a township in days now. Maybe we should have headed towards the East first.” Kristoff stated.
“Yeah, I agree there is nothing here. Let's head East back out towards the coast. There is a refuelling depot at Charleston, which is the most southerly depot, and I am guessing that if there is a township making fuel, it may be close to a main depot.” John said.
“What makes you think that?” Kristoff asked.
“The expertise to make the fuel. I bet a disgruntled bioengineer has set up a side-line business.” John said.
“Those guys are treated like kings; they get paid so much it is ridiculous. I bet we could both retire with a month’s stacks from their jobs.” Kristoff said.
John guffawed, “Probably, but they probably think they can make even more if they do it themselves. You know what Silver is like with his stacks. He never has enough.”
“True. We may as well find a place to stop here tonight and head toward Augusta tomorrow,” Kristoff replied.
“Sounds good,” John replied.
They continued through the main town area until they came to the road leading them to Augusta. The road called I-20 was in a terrible state, and there were craters all along it. As they drove forward, they had to stop when it looked like a chasm had opened in the ground traversing the width of the carriageway.
“We are going to have to find a way around it,” John said, turning the vehicle around and heading back. They eventually came to a slip road, turned off, and then turned the way they needed to go. The map was not very detailed, and John hoped he was heading in the right direction. They were struggling to make their way down a street and turned a corner when John spotted some Wild Ones ahead of them. They were like nothing he had ever seen before.
The Wild Ones stood ten feet tall at the shoulder with giant heads and massive horns protruding from their faces. They were dark grey with brown stripes and appeared to have thick armour plates covering their bodies. At least seven Wild Ones were visible grazing on the flora and fauna growing from the buildings along the street. John slowed the vehicle and rolled to a stop, staring at the monstrous Wild Ones. Out of the seven that they could see, five appeared to be adults, and two were younger and smaller. The smaller ones still stood seven feet at their shoulders.
The guttural sound from the vehicle engine drew the attention of the nearest. It stopped grazing and turned its head to look at them. Its massive head rocked downwards, staring along its giant front horn at the vehicle and its occupants. They were a couple hundred feet from them, and John had stopped the vehicle.
“What the fuck are they?” John said in awe at the size of the Wild Ones.
“No fucking idea, but I do not want to mess with those things,” Kristoff said nervously.
“To fucking right, let’s go back and find another way round,” John said. He could feel his arse cheeks clench at the sight of them, and the fact one of them was now looking directly at them had made John break out in a cold sweat. Not much affected John, but these things just looked unstoppable.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
John slowly put the vehicle into reverse and started moving back down the road the way they had come, glancing behind him to ensure he did not hit anything. Kristoff was staring wide-eyed at the monstrosities. The one with its head tilted towards them snorted, taking a step forward, and it was audible at a distance over the vehicle engine.
“Shit, it’s moving.” Kristoff stammered.
“Fuck.” Was all John replied as he glanced at them and put his foot down, accelerating in reverse. This caused the vehicle to screech in protest.
The noise of the vehicle had attracted the Wild One to investigate it, but when the vehicle squealed, the Wild One spurred into action.
Between the vehicle and the Wild One, there was now about three hundred feet and the usual scattered remains of vehicles and other debris that had collected over the years in the streets. The Wild One raised its head, letting out an angry snort and shaking it from side to side. The massive horns from its head made it look like the spiked ball from a flail, casually showing its destructive power. It moved forward slowly at first, then began to build up speed as its huge mass gradually accelerated. The sound its hooves made on the ground was like the rumblings of thunder echoing off the remains of the buildings and causing a group of flying Wild Ones to take off, squawking into the air. Both John and Kristoff went into a blind panic.
John slammed his foot on the accelerator, spinning the vehicle around as fast as he could before grinding it back into first gear. Kristoff turned, looking over his shoulder as the Wild One began thundering towards them.
“Faster, faster, it is catching us,” Kristoff yelled.
John was trying his hardest to dodge the obstacles on the road and drive as fast as he could. He did not see a hole ahead, and the truck bounced violently as it caught the wheel. “Shit” he shouted. Kristoff was launched from his seat, cracking his head against the truck roof.
"Argh," he shouted, placing his hand on his head and pulling it away, seeing it was covered in blood. He held his head gingerly as they continued to bounce down the road.
John glanced backwards. The truck struggled to grip the road surface, and the wheels were spinning as it struggled to maintain its momentum.
The Wild One charged straight at the truck. It did not care what blocked its path, smashing through anything in its way. It lowered its head as it approached a vehicle long since abandoned across the road and crashed through it. The vehicle was catapulted forty feet off to the side and smashed into the front of a building, collapsing the wall. The Wild One let out a grunt but did not even pause in its chase.
“It is nearly on us,” Kristoff yelled, sheer panic in his voice and terror plastered across his now blood-drenched face. The Wild One was now no more than fifty feet from them.
John spotted a side road ahead on the left and turned violently for it. The truck was not the most responsive of vehicles, and with the tyres already struggling to get a decent grip on the road, it slid sideways, and the front end slammed into the side of a building as they turned the corner. Bouncing off the building, John again tried to pick up speed. The Wild One attempted to turn, but due to its sheer size and momentum, it could not do so and thundered past the street, turning its head towards them as it passed. They heard an almighty crash, and then a few moments later, the head of the Wild One became visible as it turned the corner behind them, chasing them down the street.
“It’s coming again,” Kristoff yelled.
“I am not fucking blind.” John snapped, his foot flat to the floor as he continued accelerating down the street. He no longer cared what was in front of him; he just wanted to try and escape the Wild One chasing them down. This street was narrower than the last, and several small alleyways led off it. John did not dare try to go down one of them, not knowing if there would be a dead end. He needed an open street to turn down; he thought he could see a wider road up ahead, and he sped towards it. As they burst from the side street, John threw his foot onto the brake and pulled the truck violently to the left again, nearly causing it to overturn. It rocked precariously, lifting onto two wheels before falling back down and regaining traction. The road in front of them was wider, and he again sped down it, weaving in and out of obstacles too big for the truck to smash through. The Wild One again came hurtling around the corner, struggling to turn, and its hooves slid out from under it, not gripping the surface, and it smashed into the remains of a building as it turned. It stood again, shaking its head violently, and recommenced the chase.
John drove frantically, Kristoff screaming and both cursing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, it is going to hit us,” Kristoff called as the Wild One slowly neared the back of the truck. They were not fast enough; the vehicle was moving as fast as possible. Vehicles were not generally built for speed; they were built with a purpose, and the pickups they drove were no exception.
John felt the vehicle shudder as the beast's horn caught them and prodded the back of the vehicle. At this distance, the Wild One’s head was larger than the truck bed, and the multiple horns on its head looked like they could penetrate the thickest steel. Its central horn was nearly six feet long and looked like a giant medieval lance. Its eyes were the deepest black, and there was no emotion in them, seeming to absorb light. There was nothing they could do. They had no guns to shoot at the beast and no way of stopping something this size. All it would take is the horn to strike the vehicle with force, and it would be wrecked and trampled under its giant hooves.
John knew they were about to die. 'I have lived a good life', he thought as he settled on his fate. The Wild One started to swing its horn at the rear of the truck, and it appeared to John to be in slow motion, and he knew it would throw the truck sideways. He gripped the wheel, his knuckles white and willing speed from the struggling engine.
He was staring at his looming doom in the mirror when he saw the object strike the Wild One. He was unsure what it was, but a large object smashed into the Wild One’s horn, causing it to stagger slightly, and the truck crept from its reach as it swung at the vehicle, missing the rear by mere centimetres. He frantically glanced around, trying to find where it had come from.
"What the fuck was that?" He screamed.
"Up there." Kristoff pointed frantically.
Standing on the roofs aligning with the street were more Wild Ones. They were bipedal and had white faces and abdomens, with the remainder of their bodies covered in thick black fur. Their eyes were round and a deep yellow, and they looked intelligent from the glance John got. It was their bulk, though, that was scary. They looked like they had been created from pure muscle. John had met some raiders who were solid beasts of men in his time, but these Wild Ones put them to shame. They stood eight feet tall and had huge rocks raised above their heads. They started to throw their payload, not aiming at the truck but at the Wild One.
The Wild One swung its monstrous head and smashed the first two away with its horns. One of the smaller horns cracked as it deflected the rock. The third rock caught it on its front leg, making it stagger again. The beasts on the roof continued to pelt the Wild One with more and more rocks. It bellowed in rage and turned its head, focussing its rage at the buildings and the Wild Ones on the roof, slowing its chase of the vehicle for the first time.
“Fucking hell,” Kristoff exclaimed, staring in awe.
John did not slow. He kept driving, trying to get as much distance between all the Wild Ones and the truck as possible.
Kristoff was staring backwards in awe at the sight. “They are jumping down from the roof. Fucking hell, one of them just ripped a street sign out of the ground. Fuck me.” Kristoff said.
John looked in the mirror and slowed slightly. They were probably about two hundred feet from the spectacle that was opening behind them. They were starting to encircle the giant horned armour-plated monster. It was swinging its head from side to side, trying to puncture the ones that now surrounded it with its horns. Several of the huge ape-like Wild Ones held weapons made from old street signs, with chunks of concrete still attached to the bases where they had ripped them out of the ground. They started to beat at the horned demon, bellowing in what all John could imagine was a blood-curdling war cry. One of them miss-timed a swing of its club, stepping too close to the wildly swinging head and was caught by its horns. They tore into the Wild One’s side, lifting it from the ground and ripping huge swathes in its body, causing jets of crimson blood to spray over the macabre scene.
It howled in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at its injuries. The remaining Wild One apes became enraged, and they went into a wild frenzy, pummelling the horned one, battering it with their makeshift clubs. John had not even realised that he had stopped now, and they both stared mesmerised in open-mouthed awe at the sheer violence of the Wild Ones and their sustained attack.
After several minutes, the horned Wild One was eventually brought to its knees, succumbing to the continuous torrent of violence being forced on its body. As soon as it went to its knees, one of the larger apes, like Wild Ones, jumped onto its back, grabbed the street sign, and, holding it like a spear, brought the point of the pole down and thrust it into what appeared to be a less armoured part of the Wild One behind its head. The signpost sunk into the Wild One, howling in rage, forcing it down through its neck until it appeared to protrude from its throat. If John had not been so stunned, he may have seen the humour of the sign the ape used being a ‘Stop’ sign. The horned monster shuddered violently, stopped moving and collapsed onto its side with a mighty crash.
As the horned one slumped on its side, the one that had punctured its throat tilted its head back, screaming, thumping its chest, the others joining in whooping and hollering. They then began ripping at the armour plating that covered its body. Tearing off massive chitin plates, revealing the softer flesh underneath, which they started to devour. There were at least nine of them now surrounding the body, tearing into the remains in a feeding frenzy, their white faces and abdomens now tainted with the red of the Wild One’s blood.
“We need to get the fuck away from here and never come back,” John said.
“Fuck yeah, man, let’s go,” Kristoff said.
“Can see why this place has never been settled in if those fucking things live here,” John stated.
John slowly moved the vehicle off. The Wild Ones ignored them and the sound of the vehicle. They were too entranced in their demonic feast. The vehicle felt sluggish, its front end and side being dented and battered from the chase, but it was still running, thankfully. He would look closer at the damage when they got some distance between themselves and Atlanta.
“I can honestly say I have never witnessed anything like it. Those Wild Ones were hunting and using tactics to attack the large one. Never mind, they were using weapons.” John said as he slowly drove further out of the area.
“That was some terrifying shit, and if I never see one of those things again in my life, I will be happy,” Kristoff replied. The side of his face had a crimson trail running down it where his wound bled.
"How bad's the cut?" John asked.
"Does not feel too bad. You know what heads are like for bleeding," Kristoff replied.
John nodded in agreement, knowing full well the number of heads he had split open over the years.
They kept driving late into the evening, not wanting to stop after managing to find their way to the main route heading towards Augusta. The travel was treacherously slow, but they wanted to get as many miles as possible between themselves and Atlanta. Eventually, as the last of the daylight faded, they decided they better stop. Only one of the lights now worked on the front of the truck, and it was getting difficult to see the road ahead. They pulled up and stopped the engine.
John checked Kristoff's head, which had stopped bleeding, and it appeared to be just a scalp wound rather than anything more serious. They grabbed some dry rations and bottles of nectar, not wanting to leave the vehicle, and lit a fire to cook any food. The fear of the day’s events was still ever present. John could not remember being as terrified as he had felt with that monstrosity charging at them. He thought he was about to die until the other Wild Ones attacked. However, thinking about the ones on the roof filled him with even more dread. They had intelligence and cunning. Neither wanted to sleep and sat in silence, staring into the darkness, restless and paranoid, jumping at every sound they heard through the night.