My Wasteland Angel Bk. 01

A fair warning to the readers. This novella is actually the first half of a novel length story that I have yet to complete. While the story presented here has an arc of sorts it ends abruptly, so go into this knowing you are only reading the first half of a story. I have no idea if or when I will finish this novel but I felt there was enough here for a "Book 1". I hope you enjoy.

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Part 1:

I hear nothing but a low monotone droning ring. My clouded unsteady vision swirls and fades at the edges, I focus on the small tunnel of pale sight still available to me. There wasn't much to see but I focus nonetheless, I needed something to focus on so as to not be consumed by the screaming torture coursing through me. I can feel my weapon slip from my blood soaked hand. I had neither the strength nor the will to hold it any longer. My fight was over.

White hot pain shoots up the whole of my right side. My neck and face and mouth and throat and nostrils all burn with a terrible intensity. It was the worst pain I had ever felt. More and more it was claiming me.

My vision continued to shrink and fade. Not that it mattered, all I could see now was dust and smoke. I didn't know where I was or where I was going, I just knew I had to get away. I soon find myself crawling, dragging my mangled right arm and leg behind me. The smoke is choking me, my lungs are on fire. I cough and cough, each one a fresh explosion of pain. I force myself onward. Just one fresh breath, I just wanted one draw of fresh clean air...before I died.

I reach the edge of the crumbling asphalt. I feel the hard concrete and jagged torn rebar beneath. I have some memory that I was up high...a bridge or an overpass... It doesn't matter anymore. All that mattered was getting out of this dark suffocating cloud. I pull my broken body across the curled spikes of iron. I can barely feel it now as they tear at my flesh. I'd found the drop. I could just make out a heap of trash and wreckage far below. With one final heave of strength I lurch over the side, turning as I went over the edge so that I was falling face up.

As I fall I can see up at the underside of raised freeway. A thick column of steel gray smoke billowing from it. I see an explosion tear right through a portion of it though I cannot hear it. There is a single precious moment of peace as I fall. I take my breath, the one I'd wanted so badly. It is everything I wanted and more...yet I am greedy for another. I am not ready to die!

The void claims me.

***

Consciousness comes back to me very gradually. I slowly open my eyes. I am aware of splintered wood beneath me along with a tattered and crumpled rough green tarpaulin. I had hit something that had some give to it, enough to save me from instant death anyways. Though with the pain I was in it seemed a cruel mercy. I see the overpass I had fallen from above. Smoke still rose from it, but much less now. It must have been hours later. Around me was a random assortment of smashed and rusted pre-cataclysm vehicles along with various other bits of scrap and junk.

I didn't even try to move, I knew I couldn't even if I wanted to. My body was shattered and I was bleeding out. It was time to make peace with my maker. Thinking back over my life...the things I'd done...there would be no salvation for me. Oblivion was the best I could hope for. If not it was the pits of hell for me.

I can just hear movement through the buzzing in my ears, objects lightly clacking together. I force my head to the left so I can see the source. A dirty young woman, roughly early twenties, was squating nearby and pulling out bits of salvage from a sack Inspecting them one by one before placing them either back inside the bag or tossing them off to the side. She was a scrounger. Quite likely taking advantage of the recent nearby battle to zip in and take anything useful or valuable before others got to it. It was dangerous work, but so was everything out here in the Wastes.

I am wracked with a searing agonizing coughing fit, I can taste blood in my mouth. She startles and spins toward me, a small pistol in her steady hand. She had probably thought me dead, just another corpse. We make eye contact. She had tanned bronze skin and rich brown eyes. Her black hair was short and ragged. She slowly stands up, her gun remaining trained on me. She is wearing thick denim overalls, only one strap remaining on it, and a man's plaid shirt that was far too large for her slender frame. As I look her over I wonder what the hell she was doing out here in the Wastes. She was dirty and a little malnourished but she looked perfectly human. No odd proportions, no extra limbs, no bodily or facial deformities. By her appearance she looks like she should be in one of the pure blood colonies. I go to speak but nothing comes out of my burnt throat. I can only lie there and look at her.

Seeing I was no threat she slowly lowers her weapon. She looks at me for a short time, tilting her head to the side. She looks ready to speak...but she decides against it. She looks me up and down and shakes her head sadly. She then pockets her pistol and returns to looking over her salvage.

Her moment distracted by me however ended up being costly for her. I see him before she does. He was an Orc like me, one of the more common mutations out here in the wider world. Humanoid but thicker of build than the pure bloods. We generally had large jaws, sloped heavy brows, and powerfully built bodies. Our bones and muscles were thicker and denser, I would surely be dead already had I been a regular human. We often had other more unsightly mutations as well. Even the slightest and least deformed of us couldn't pass as a normal human. This particular Orc that was creeping up was named Blitz, one of my own gang mates. He wore the same spiked skull tattoo on his forearm. He had been with me during the battle. The fact that he was alone made me think we'd been the only ones to survive the ambush. A tiny flicker of hope enters my heart. Maybe, just maybe, if he saw me here he'd get me some meds and help me out. I knew it was a foolish hope.

Currently his eyes were only on the human. Being an experienced raider he moved with a light step. He is within ten feet of the girl before she hears him. She spins toward him too late. His heavy fist comes down hard across her cheek, putting her down in a heap. He nabs her pistol from the ground. He wanted her alive and I knew why. Blitz wasn't one to wait for one of the whores of the trash towns. He had appetites the demanded sating immediately. Besides, none of the cunts for hire would look half as good as this girl.

He stops and takes a good look and listen around. He soon spots me. I look at him, begging with my eyes. My trembling left hand reaches out to him. He looks up and down my body, then simply snorts and shakes his head. I was a lost cause to his eyes. I couldn't be mad, he was probably right. A raider that couldn't fight was useless. Besides, I probably would have done the same to him.

He takes a closer look around, ensuring there were no threats, then circles back to the human girl who was just beginning to rouse once more. He kneels down and begins to pull the clothes from her body as a child might a doll. It takes her a minute to regain her bearings and realize what was happening. When she does she shrieks and starts punching and kicking at Blitz. Her woozy efforts are useless as he just powers through her strikes as if they were nothing.

"No! No! No! Please no!" She cries to deaf ears.

He slams to her to the ground in front of him. Her soft naked form looking so tender and fragile in this place of twisted rusting metal and broken concrete. He looks down over her body and snorts again, his face grimacing. He spits on her and grunts. "Filth." Grabbing her roughly he flips her over, her flailing limbs hardly slowing him down as he then presses her hard face down into the ground. His big hand palming the side of her head as he pushed her down into the earth.

He takes her from behind hard and rough. She cries in pain as he grunts and huffs through his rape of this woman.

The way he held, her head held turned in his heavy hand, her cheek jammed to the ground...her eyes could only look toward me. Her dark pained eyes staring into me as she was ravished by my fellow gang member. Her body forcibly rocks forward and back by Blitz's motions but her eyes remain fixed on mine. I could see little below her shoulders. I was glad for that.

I could feel my vital strength draining as I watched this. This could very well be the last thing I witnessed before the end. My world weary heart sank as I lay there. In Blitz I could see myself. I had never done this in particular, but near enough. And I had done worse things as well. There was blood on my hands that could never be cleaned. In Blitz I saw my whole pointless life brought into sharp focus in this single moment of evil and cruelty.

He finishes with a low growl. He pulls out with little ceremony and puts himself away. Standing up he kicks her in the back, letting her know he wanted her to stay down. She huddles and sobs and stays on the ground. To not do so would surely cost her her life. Her heaving smooth soft flesh trembling in this hard bleak place. Once more I think...she shouldn't be here. She didn't belong out here.

Blitz quickly searches the area for anything of value, finding little but the sack of salvage itself. He picks it up and ties it to his thick belt. He looks me over one last time. There is no sympathy or even pity in his eyes, no emotion at all, he was simply looking me over for something worth taking. Seeing nothing he turns and leaves without a word.

It is quiet for a time. The woman slowly gets to her hands and knees. Silently she dresses. She is turned away from me, trying to salvage some shred of dignity despite what had happened. She repeatedly and angrily swipes away tears from her cheeks and eyes. She sniffs a hard breath in through her nose and lets it out in a long shuddering exhale.

I was fading. My life blood draining from me. I knew it wouldn't be much longer now.

I watch the girl get up and begin looking around. At first I thought she was looking to see if Blitz had left anything of hers behind. As she finds what she was looking for, a three foot long length of metal bar with a wicked looking point on one end, I realize what she had in mind.

Her eyes are focused on the ground as she approached me. Both her hands gripped the make shift spear in white knuckle fury. Her dirty face was now streaked from her tears. There were deadly intentions brewing behind those brown eyes.

I couldn't blame her, I couldn't blame her one tiny bit. Hell, I was happy about it. If killing me could help her find some small measure of peace at least my death would have been for something. I try to stay awake, I try desperately to hold onto consciousness so that she could have the satisfaction of watching my ugly brutish Orc face as the life drained from it. But I was losing this battle. The color had drained from my vision, the blackness was encroaching from all sides.

She stands over me. Her dark eyes looking down into mine. I see her then look at my arm tattoo, the same one Blitz wore, then back up at my face and into my eyes again. I saw barely contained rage and fresh raw hatred. I look up at her, helpless at her feet as she raised the spike above her head. I hoped she would hurry so that she could take me before I snuffed out from my injuries. I stare up at her perfect human face, only the purple lump on her cheek from Blitz's punch sullying her smooth flawless features. She is...she is so beautiful. So very very beautiful. Something ethereal, something divine. A wasteland angel come to collect my tainted soul. I feel blessed that this would be my final vision of this rotten stinking world. I feel a tear stream down my temple.

My vision is wavering, the blackness now claiming all. I wait for the stabbing blow but I fade before it comes.

Part 2:

I surface in howling agony, or it would have been howling had I the voice to scream.

My eyes snap open just in time to watch the human woman spring away from me. She is crouched and coiled to move swiftly again if needed. She had a knife in her hand, not a combat knife but one for slicing food. She held it out in front of her menacingly, but she looked more ready to run than to fight.

My right arm was burning with an all consuming pain. I try to reach for it but I find my left arm was bound, tied tightly by loops of thick extension cord affixed to the exposed axle of the wrecked vehicle I was lying beside. The cord creaks and tightens as I pull, but it holds firm. It doesn't take me long to realize my left leg was also tied. My right limbs lie injured and useless.

I look down through the haze of pain to see a makeshift bandage wrapped from my fingers to halfway up my arm. At this point the bandages switch from rags to clean, fresh, white gauze. The perfect lily white standing out against the angry red of my burned skin. The red flesh was glossy, something had been applied to it. An ointment or lotion. It was the application of this last arm wrapping that had hurt so bad as to rouse me. Though I still feel crippling pain in my leg, side, mouth and throat as well.

My eyes are wide and confused, my mind addled by pain. Hoarse little gasps choke out of me. I try to talk, to scream, to yell...anything. Nothing but harsh croaking sounds come forth. My throat stings as if barbed wire had just run been through it. I bend and heave as the agony wracks me to my core.

With a monumental act of will I force myself to relax. I focus on controlling my breathing. Each breath was another new pain, but nothing like the burns up the side of my body. I close my eyes and focus...control...breathe...breathe...breathe...

I open them once more. Looking down I now see the clothes had been cut from my body. Everything but my well worn underwear. It is a petty thing considering how close to death I'd been, but I am relieved to see that I am not injured "down there". My leg was already bandaged and splinted around my throbbing ankle. Two large white patches are also attached to the right side of my torso. A pile of bloody cloths lay heaped at my feet along with my shredded and burnt clothes. Beside these, I am stunned to see, was an honest to goodness medical kit. It sat open, I could see it was still stocked with drugs and gauze and shiny implements and such. A kit like that would be worth a fortune in trade at the trash towns! An easy barter for a couple guns and a few boxes of ammo at the very least.

It is then I remember...I shouldn't even be alive right now. The last thing I remember was the woman standing over me with a weapon raised above her head to bring down onto me to finish me off. The image of her furious yet beautiful visage looking down at me still crystal clear in my mind's eye.

Forcing myself to focus through the pain I look over to her. Seeing that I was indeed bound and helpless I watch as she relaxes. She stands up straight, though she keeps the knife in her hand and at the ready.

She says in a blunt matter of fact way. "Try anything and I will leave you to die. Understand?"

The confusion is now almost as intense as the pain. Why was I still alive? Not only had this woman not killed me, she had quite obviously saved my life. I slowly nod as I study her.

"Good." She nods. "Can't talk, can you?"

I shake my head no.

"Good." She says again. "I don't want to hear you...Orc." She spits that last word. Her eyes narrow as she looks over my large form. "What did your brother out there call me? Filth. It was Filth wasn't it? That's your name now. Filth. As in scum, shit, trash. You mutant piece of garbage."

I was more confused than ever.

She cautiously steps back toward me and kneels down at my side. I gaze up. Her skin tone was somewhere between a dark beige and a light brown. This combined with her jet black hair indicated she was likely from a Latino heritage, not that many people kept track of such things anymore. Now all that truly mattered was whether you were human or mutant. The smoothness of her face betrayed the fact she had not been in the wastes for very long. The lack of creasing or weathering or rad burns or scarring telling me she'd lead an easier life than this harsh environment could possibly provide. Seeing her up close I realize how small she is. Just barely over five feet tall if I had to guess, and thin too. She looked so fragile. It was fortunate Blitz didn't break her with his rough treatment. Her large brown eyes look almost black here in the dim interior...wait, interior?

I look around me. I was in a shelter of some sort, not out in the open as I had been. It takes me a while but I realize I still lay where I had fallen. I hadn't been taken to a shelter, the shelter had been built around me. I guess it made sense, the slight human woman probably didn't have the strength to move me even if she wanted to. More of the green tarpaulin had been gathered and then erected using the materials at hand. The sides were tied off along the trash to my left and held to the ground with rocks and heavy junk to my right. Long dead branches held up the middle giving the place the look of an old fashioned camping tent. There was enough room for the petite woman to stand and walk around in. It was a rough job to be sure but it would keep me out of the elements. Sunlight came in through the tarp, the green of the thin plastic walls giving the whole area a sickly glow.

I look back toward her, she was getting ready to continue wrapping my arm. "Don't look at me Filth!" She snaps. "I can't stand the sight of your ugly Orc face."

I continue to look at her, both fascinated and perplexed by her. Snatching up her knife she suddenly holds it to my throat. Her eyes widen. "You better listen to me Filth. I can still kill you." She says menacingly. I keep my gaze locked on hers.

'No, you can't.' I realize. I have been in life and death close combat more times than I can count. I have learned to recognize the eyes of a killer. She did not have them. In the immediate aftermath of Blitz's violation, yes, of course she could have. Anyone could kill then. But now...no way. I could see she was way over her head yet trying to bluff her way through. Making it up as she went. I get the distinct impression she just was as confused by all this as I was. I am even more fascinated by her now.

I slowly nod and turn my head away from her and stare at the back wall of wreckage.

She takes the knife away. Her slender hands return to my wounded and burnt arm. I grit my teeth and clench my good fist hard, enduring through the pain as she worked to finish the job of patching me up.

As I let out a throaty grunt of pain she says. "Shut up Filth!" Despite her sharp words I feel her hands ease up and loosen the wrapping. She finishes up and secures everything. "Now that you're awake I can get under you. Roll to your side."

I feel her hands slide in under my arm and back and lift up. Gingerly I roll toward my good side, I probably couldn't have done it without her aid. She keeps my injured arm from moving too much in the motion. Once I am over to my side I hear her start clearing the ground under me of the splintered wood chunks and rocks that were there. I feel it as she cleans off my back and butt. Brushing jagged pebbles away and then pulling out splinters. Her small hands are soft and gentle. Carefully she helps me back down again. I lay on my back and let out a sigh. The pain in my throat and side had been so bad that I hadn't realized how uncomfortable my back was. This was so much better. I am able to truly relax.

The woman stands up and dusts off her hands before commencing to clean up. Gathering the bloody rags, putting away the med kit, and such. I watch her work though she ignores me completely. She still wore the denim overalls and plaid shirt. The shirt was now held together with an old pin as Blitz had torn the buttons from it when he stripped her.