Broken Worlds: Age of Ruin

I groaned as a beam of sunlight streamed through the partially-open flap of my tent, rudely bringing my slumbering thoughts back to the real world. I gently rubbed my shaved head as I blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes.

“Several million miles away, and you still have perfect aim,” I mumbled in annoyance at the sun as I unzipped my tent and emerged from the darkness within. I closed one eye to ease the sudden change of light and took a good look at the landscape around me. It had been too dark to get a good view of my surroundings when I set up camp the previous evening, but now that it was the daytime, I could see the beauty of the Colorado Plateau unobstructed. I had slept near the edge of one of the many valleys and canyons that dotted the area, and by taking only a few steps from my tent I could look straight down at the tan-and-orange cliffs staring back up at me. To avoid the risk of constantly climbing the rocky faces, however, I tended to avoid actually descending into these indents.

“Well,” I said to myself, “I suppose I should get going.” I kicked the tent spikes out from the reddish soil and watched as my temporary shelter collapsed in a heap of camouflage-green fabric. I gave it a good shake to make sure no dirt would cling on, and then packed the tent into my tan duffle bag. I had carried this bag during my several months of travel, using it to carry my few worldly possessions as I trekked from my home in Montana to New Phoenix, Arizona, which was supposedly a safe haven from the destruction of the war. It was managed by BlackTech, who I trusted about as far as I could throw an elephant, but I needed a place to live, and they had an entire city full of space.

Besides, it wasn’t like I had much other choice; the only family I ever really had was gone.

~-~-~-~-~

Eight Months Earlier

“Wayne! Come get some food!”

I poked my head up from the tall stalks of grass I had been laying in and grinned. Dinner time, I thought excitedly as I leaped to my feet and sprinted for my uncle’s farmhouse, where he was waiting out on the back porch in his wheelchair.

“What’s on the menu tonight, Tony?” I asked breathlessly as I jumped and vaulted over the railing, landing gracefully on my feet next to my uncle.

He shook his head and chuckled. “I swear, boy, you are one of the most acrobatic kids I’ve ever seen,” he said as he turned his chair around and wheeled himself inside. “Even if I could walk, I don’t think I could do half the tricks you pull off!”

I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” I said apologetically. I knew my uncle wasn’t happy about being stuck in his chair, and sometimes my enjoyment of running and jumping overshadowed that fact.

The old man shook his head. “Don’t apologize,” he said with a laugh, “it’s good you can do all that stuff! Without you and your enthusiasm and energy, It would be a lot harder to keep things in shape around here!”

Twenty years ago, before the accident that resulted in the removal of his right leg, my uncle was a businessman that worked for a rapidly-growing manufacturing company, and was very well-off. However, the company was eventually bought by a weapons contractor, and he was quickly let go now that the company had a much larger work force. Nowadays, thanks to the stocks he still had in the bought-out company, on top of his disability benefits, he was able to move to a farm a few states over and retire.

Ever since my parents died… he was the only real family I had.

I sat down at the picnic table on the porch and waited as my uncle scraped a burger from off of the grill and onto a bun, which eventually found its way to me.

“Mmm, I know I’ve said this before, Tony, but you should have gotten into culinary arts instead of financing!” I said appreciatively as I chewed a juicy bite. I didn’t even bother putting ketchup or mustard on Tony’s burgers; it got in the way of the flavor.

My uncle nodded, smiling proudly. “That was actually my dream once,” he said wistfully. “When I was about your age, I wanted to grow up to work in a five-star restaurant. Your grandfather, however,” he said, suddenly sounding angry, “had different plans, and forced me to study to be a stockbroker.”

I frowned. I never liked my grandfather very much, and neither did my parents; he was a bitter, cranky old man who looked down on anyone who thought differently than he did, and didn’t care if people thought poorly of him.

Now, you may think I’m exaggerating when I say this, but my entire family hated him; hell, even my grandmother cheered when they read his eulogy at the funeral, which elicited some strange looks from the rest of us.

“But, that’s all in the past,” he said with a shrug. “I’m plenty happy where I am now.”

I nodded. “At least we’re outside of the radiation zones,” I pointed out.

Tony nodded sadly. “It’s a damn shame what’s happening to our world these days,” he said sorrowfully, but suddenly got a strange look in his eyes. “Do you even know why we’re fighting this war, or who it is we’re up against?” he asked, suddenly lowering his voice as if someone were listening.

I shrugged. “I’ve heard stories,” I replied, confused. “Creatures from another world, I guess?”

Tony nodded, his eyes shining. “Yeah, but that’s the thing! That company, BlackTech, they say we’re fighting them because of the Disaster about four years ago, but I have…” he broke off for a moment, “sources, that say they never meant to attack us, and BlackTech is merely using those ‘attacks’ to stir up anger against these ‘creatures’.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What could BlackTech possibly gain from starting a war with another world?” I asked, lowering my tone in case my uncle wasn’t just being paranoid.

My uncle shrugged, leaned back and stared for a moment, and laughed loudly. “Don’t you worry about any of that, pal,” he said dismissively. “Where we are right now, we don’t need to worry about any of this war stuff; I’m sure it’ll all blow over eventually.”

I nodded slowly, but something about my uncle’s tone made him seem uncertain. Was he hiding something? I pondered this thought for a moment, but pushed it aside as I finished my burger.

~-~-~-~-~

“Wayne!” my uncle whispered urgently, waking me from my slumber on the couch in the living room. I opened my eyes and looked around, confused. “Wayne, you have to get up, right now!”

I rubbed my eyes and gave him a worried look. “Why?” I asked tiredly, “What’s going on?”

My uncle looked at the window hurriedly. “There’s no time to explain!” he said quickly as he wheeled himself over to the wall, where he slid a false panel near the floor off to the side. “You need to hide in here! When it’s safe to come out, I’ll knock three times, got it?”

I nodded quickly and crawled into the tiny space as the false panel slid back into its former position, erasing any sign of the secret compartment’s existence. I heard the doorbell ringing and a violent knocking at the door, followed by the sound of my uncle’s chair rolling across the floor.

“Evening, sir,” a professional voice said from the doorway, “we’re here because we have reasonable suspicion that you may be harboring escaped war criminals.”

My uncle chuckled. “I think you’re confused,” he said kindly, “the only person here is me.”

The man laughed darkly. “I think we both know we’re not looking for any people.”

I heard several sets of footsteps enter the house as my uncle continued to explain they were mistaken, but the sounds of furniture being pushed around told me they would not be so easily dissuaded.

“Sir!” a voice called out, “I found a trapdoor under the rug!”

I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t know my uncle had so many secret places in his house.

The man who spoke earlier chuckled. “Well, what would be the odds of that?” he asked rhetorically. I heard the sound of a heavy door being swung open, Tony’s now-angry protesting, and footsteps descending into a previously unknown part of the house.

That’s when the gunshots started.

They lasted for a couple of seconds, a mixture of a few automatic weapons and my uncle’s lucky rifle blocking any other noise in the house. There was a long silence that seemed to last ages, until I heard three heavy, deliberate knocks hit the sliding door in front of me. I pushed the secret panel aside and gasped at the sight that awaited me.

Two of the men lay dead on the floor, and one more lay with his upper body sticking out from a hole, taking up space that a coffee table and rug had previously occupied. I saw my uncle, his face twisted in pain as he bled profusely from several bulletholes in his arms and stomach. He was breathing heavily, but he tried his best to downplay his pain.

“Tony!” I said worriedly, and rushed over to his side, “What should I do?”

My uncle laughed weakly. “I could use a beer,” he said, only half-joking, and I ran and grabbed him a cold bottle from the fridge. He pried the cap off using the metal rims on his wheelchair, spilling some of his beverage on the wooden floor, and took a hesitant sip. “Wayne,” he said tiredly, “I didn’t want this to happen to you.”

I stared blankly. “What do you mean?” I asked slowly, “What did you have down there?” I started to turn toward the hole, but Tony grabbed my arm.

“Don’t go down there,” he said sadly, “I don’t want you to see what happens to anyone who opposes BlackTech.”

I nodded slowly as he went on: “Those guys I killed aren’t going to be the last. There’s probably another group on their way now, and it would be best if you were as far away from here as possible when they show up.”

I widened my eyes. “What? No,” I said defiantly, “I’m not leaving without you.”

My uncle laughed and gestured to his bleeding wounds. “Wayne, face it: I’m done for,” he said with a sad smile. “If you want to help me, then make sure you get out of here safely.

I stared, tears starting to well up in my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” my uncle said, grabbing my shoulder and glaring at me. “You’re going to have to be strong from here on out. You’ve gotta look out for yourself, and don’t let anything happen to you, you got it?”

I nodded, and my uncle sighed. “I promised your mom and dad that I would take care of you; I just hope everything I’ve done for you so far will be good enough.”

I smiled sadly. “It was more than enough,” I said, giving him a hug, but I quickly retreated when he groaned from the pressure I had put on his wounds. “Sorry,” I apologized.

Tony waved dismissively. “Forget about it,” he said, his voice still straining, “just get a duffel bag and fill it with some clothes and food, and get out of here. Take my rifle, too,” he said, holding out the firearm slowly. “I won’t be needing it anymore,” he added jokingly.

I gently took the weapon and stared at it for a moment; in the five years I had spent living with Tony, I had only fired it a few times. It was a pretty cool experience, and I struggled to keep my excitement at receiving it to a minimum as I placed the strap attached to it over my shoulder. He had built it himself, scavenging parts from other guns and putting whatever he could use together into one weapon.

“Now, go! Hurry up and pack, and run!” my uncle said, shooing me toward the stairs. “Use the back door and cut across the field; you don’t want anyone to see you!”

I flew up the stairs and shoved some clothes into a duffel bag, putting on a pair of aviators shades and wrapping a black bandana emblazoned with a skull around my face. Then, I ran to the kitchen and packed whatever food I could fit into the remaining space in the bag, and stood by the back door, staring crestfallenly at my uncle.

“Bye, Tony,” I said sadly.

My uncle nodded. “Bye, bud,” he said quietly.

I lingered for a second longer, and burst out the door, letting it swing back and slam shut behind me.

I kept running across the field, not turning back. Not even when I heard the sound of tires skidding across the gravel driveway, the front door being thrown open, and the sounds of gunshots from within. As I ran, several tears streamed down my face and soaked into the bandana, which I tore from my face and gasped for breath as I continued my sprint.

This is it, I thought, bewildered, I’m all alone.

~-~-~-~-~

Present Day

I hated BlackTech, and wasn’t too proud about living in one of their cities. But, if it meant I would be well-taken care of in this screwed world, then I was willing to set aside my grievances, for a while. I swore, though, from that night onward, that I would get my revenge against them.

No matter what the price.

Ever since that night, I trained myself, body and mind, so nothing could hurt me. I starved myself, I punched wooden posts and brick walls until my knuckles bled, and I slept in dumpsters and on piles of cinder blocks. I picked fights with bandits and raiders, I fought off predators, and I treated everything from snake bites to poison ivy. Eight months ago, I was just an immature teenager with a mild interest in parkour.

Now, I’m a survivor.