Page 134

One Bad Motherfucker

W e reach the Cities early morning when the sky is still dark like I wanted.

I follow the map that Jago and the guards explained.

We are waiting in the dust, looking up at the towering walls that connect and contain the three Cities.

I can see the bridges the guard explained from here.

The wall is grey and covered in deep grooves, cracked edges, and crumbling stone, but despite that, it looks strong and I can see where people have attacked and failed over the years.

Lights shine on top of the wall, illuminating the sand below around the perimeter.

I can see skyscrapers lit up inside, and it looks so different from the North.

Like a city from before, the lights, the buildings…

in the destruction, they managed to save this and that makes me wonder what they sacrificed to keep it… or who they sacrificed.

After I finish gawking, I pull around to the left and head down the sand dunes.

There are no roads here, but we spot the dried up river, which is now a dump site for their rubbish and toilets.

We leave our bikes, throw our bags on our backs, and continue around it, holding our breath at the stench before we reach the water tunnel we were told about.

Metal bars cover it, letting the water pass through but allowing no one in.

A rusted lock seals the bars—waiting to be destroyed, in my opinion.

I pull out the pliers and cut it off, letting it clank to the ground before pushing open the gate.

It takes both of us to open, stuck from ages of disuse, and we are both sweating when it finally moves, screeching as it does.

We wait to see if anyone has heard, but no one comes to investigate so we slip inside, shutting the gate after us so if anyone takes a cursory look, it will all appear the same and they won’t be suspicious.

We have to duck to fit inside the tunnel and I flick on the torch, Dray’s lighting up the dark behind me.

I point it at the ground just in case and trudge through the sludge.

It’s hot down here and stinks, but it’s part of the plan so I man the fuck up and keep walking.

The tunnel seems to run for ages. There are three stops, one for each city, and as much as I want to rush into the inner, I don’t, since that would get them killed.

The thought that they might be suffering right now does have me hesitating, but I stick to the plan and keep on walking, only stopping when we reach the last sealed entrance.

The outers.

The door is like a giant vault door with a wheel to turn, and I leave Dray to it as I shine my torch around the tunnel behind us, keeping watch.

I hear him grunting, and then finally, the loud turn of the wheel interrupts the quiet of the tunnel, the only other sounds the squeaking of rats and dripping water.

I turn around as he swings it open and I go first, peeking out.

Like we hoped, it leads out into an empty section of the city.

We slip out, keeping the door opened only slightly.

Dropping the torch and flicking it off, not wanting to draw attention, I flip up my dark hood, which conceals most of my face, and Dray does the same.

We don’t know if they know what we look like, but we aren’t risking it, and from the information we got from the guard, a lot of the outers wear cloaks.

Crumbling, half destroyed buildings line the road we are on near the wall of the third city, which is where the poor are.

The road is cracked with holes in it, the yellow paint worn off in some places.

Rubbish blows in the breeze, the windows whistling from the buildings on either side of us.

It doesn’t smell much better here than in the tunnel, but it’s not unbearable.

Rushing along the road, we keep our footsteps as quiet as we can and head down the street to the corner.

A road sign lays on the ground, abandoned and covered in graffiti.

A dog howls and races across the road, chasing something, and we wait for it to pass before heading down the next street.

We make turns and weave through the buildings, and the closer we get to the city center, the more looked after the houses become, and we start to see people inhabiting some of them.

Down one of the roads, I spot a graveyard.

Some of the graves have crosses on top of the turned soil, but towards the front I spot mounds of skulls and bones, tossed there and forgotten.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Do they not even bury their dead? Or do too many people die here to bury them all?

The thought is unsettling, and I move past it and down the next street, the apartment buildings on either side protecting us from the stinging sand in the wind.

When we reach the center, we stop and orient ourselves.

A casino is right up in the center where people seem to be flocking to it.

To the left, where there once used to be a park, is what looks like a camp filled with tents, shacks, and people.

That’s their homes, while the inners live in skyscrapers.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

The buildings here housing people are a mixture of red brick structures and apartment buildings.

They don’t look much better than the ones we have passed before, but there are lights inside some of them.

Except the amount of people I glimpse crammed inside makes my stomach clench.

They are living right on top of each other in awful conditions.

I find myself just staring around. The Wastes might be brutal, but at least there is plenty of room, this.

..this feels like slums. People have been mistreated and abused and just left here.

On the floor in a shadow I spot an unmoving body, and to the right I spot dirty faced children chasing a dog.

Shaking my head, I walk towards the casino like the guard told us.

He explained if we wanted to find someone in charge then that’s where they would be.

Apparently there has been more and more pressure from a man in there when it comes to policing this city.

They aren’t officially in charge, but it looks like they have claimed this section of the city, and from the muscled men guarding the entrance, they have firepower and followers, which is what we need.

There are women loitering outside in skimpy clothing, luring men and women into the casino. I spot one woman heading into an alley followed by a hurried looking man and I smirk. Some things never change. They can rebrand it, but everyone in this world is the same. We all deal in blood and flesh.

Two men block the glass doors to the casino, so I throw back my hood. “We are here to speak to Vert,” I say strongly.

They exchange glances, the one on the left in nothing but a waistcoat and trousers, with a machete strapped to his leg. The man on the right is only wearing trousers, leaving his tattooed, barrel chest on display. “Who’s asking?” the one on the left demands with a thick accent.

“A friend, a friend who is about to offer him a sweet deal, so I suggest you stop pulling my dick and let me in,” I snap, growing bored of this.

Each lost moment is like a countdown clock in my head, reminding me that we are wasting time.

I’m so close to getting them back and no one will stand in my way.

They look at each other again but shrug. “I’ll take her in. If the boss don’t wanna see her, we can kick them out,” the one on the left mutters, rubbing at his bald head. He throws me another look. “Follow me,” he orders, and then pushes through the door, not holding it for me.

I follow after him with Dray on my heels.

The fucking fools didn’t even pat us down for weapons.

The noise hits me straight away, as does the cool air…

is that air con? Sands below, I want to strip down and race through this place to feel that cold air on my skin, but I don’t.

The sound of wheels turning, music, laughter, and screaming all blends together.

The smell of booze, unwashed bodies, and…

food hits me. It’s a lot to absorb. The lights are bright and I stumble to a stop for a moment just taking it all in.

Tables with roulette wheels, pool tables, and other types of gambling line the bottom floor with slot machines at the back.

This place is busy as hell as well. I spot a bar to the left filled to the brim and what looks like a buffet to the right.

The bottom floor is huge with a metal barrier with people leaning on it up top.

Two big, winding staircases lead up to it from the middle of the floor.

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I just blink around before following after the guard, not wanting to be caught gawking.

He leads us through the glitz and glamour, and to an open door to the side, which leads into a bar unlike any I’ve ever been in.

The lights are dimmed with candles spread around, and two seater tables are spread around the red carpeted room, with a bar to the right and a man in a hat serving spirits from the shelves, which reach to the ceiling with a ladder leaning against them.

A stage is set at the front with red velvet curtains, and a woman in a short black dress sings in a low, purring voice.

It looks like something from a fifties sitcom or mobster movie, and there is only one man in here, sitting in the middle of the room, sipping from a tumbler, as he watches the woman.

We are forced to wait until she finishes and he claps before we are led over to who I am guessing is Vert.