FicWad

First off, thank you for showing an interest in my work, this is my first story I've put up, if people like it I'll stick up the next couple chapters :). This story is about the struggle of a teenager, forced to travel far across a post-apocalyptic wasteland, dealing with the horrors of a harsh reality. Enjoy! Note: It is a work in progress so I'll edit small sections from time to time.



[Chapter One]

2134, Somewhere in the ruins of Western U.S.A,


Colwood. One of the last truly civilized settlements in the state, or so they would tell you. When the apocalypse struck and society was reduced to rubble, few survived the horrors of the first few weeks. But when the apocalypse finished their were few survivors, and only a ruined America for the people left to try and rebuild. Colwood was one of the first and most successful attempts at rebuilding society. Unlike many others, who believed that living in the ruins of the old world was a perfectly good way to live, Colwood's founders decided the way forward was to start anew and build new places to live from the resources left behind by the old.

And so, some twenty miles out from an unnamed city, Colwood was built. In the fifty years since then it had grown into a strong and confident community of people, most living out of shacks and tents and all kept safely within the great junk wall that defended them from the harshness and the evil of the outside world.

So it was here in Colwood that Matthew had spent all his life, and he wanted nothing more than to continue living in Colwood, peaceful and easy, which in the harsh reality of the scarred, chaotic America, could only last so long.

Bang

Matthew awoke with a start. He looked around for the source of the noise, but realised it was from outside the shack.

Bang

“Gunfire,” he thought, most likely his Uncle Harry on the wall. He lay still for a few seconds, waiting to see if the gunfire would continue, but when none came Matt assumed the shooter had found his target.

He rose from his bed with a yawn and stretched briefly before looking around the room. His sister's bed was empty, likely she had already left to help Maximilian with the scavenging roster. She'd made breakfast for him, as was her way. He saw on the table in the middle of the room a small bowl of her signature stew already waiting for him.

It was cold, but Matt didn't mind, so he sat at the table and ate quietly, trying to judge how late in the day it was. From the piercing rays of light protruding from the shack's single, high up window, Matt would guess it to still be morning, or thereabouts.

As he finished his sister's stew he decided that he ought to go double check what the disturbance was that woke him. One of the disadvantages of living next to the wall was that Matt and his sister would always be closer than most to whatever threats approached from outside.

He got dressed in his usual clothes, his torn, almost ragged jeans and shirt were probably his favourite of all his belongings, except the picture of course. He liked them so because to him they were a kind of reminder. The casual clothes symbolised a better time in history, a time when you didn't always have to carry a weapon or wear some sort of protection outside of your community. He struggled into the jeans which, despite being fitted for a sixteen year old, barely managed to fit around his seventeen year old waist.

He then attempted to do something with his ruffled, uncontrollable hair, heading across the room to his small kitchen area. He peered in the mirror as he tried to tame his messy brown mop with his fingers. It did no good and his hair instantly assumed it's instinctive unkempt manner. He sighed,admitting defeat, and instead he went and fetched his satchel, containing his canteen and knife.

He looked around for his gun and holster, but it was nowhere in sight. He could've sworn he'd left it on the small couch at the back of the shack, but all he could find were a few empty food cans and a few of his sister's hair bands. The 1875 Remington Revolver was one of Matt's most valuable possessions, though far from his favourite. If it wasn't in the shack there was only one likely explanation.

“Damn it, Lucy,” he thought to himself. She must have taken it for some reason, he couldn't think why, Uncle Harry always gave her his own pistol if she wanted to practice her shooting.
“I ought to go find her,” he said aloud. He turned to the door and headed outside.

It was a calm breezy day in Colwood, and Matt appreciated the cooling wind as he headed over to the wall. Just across from his shack was the large junk gate that was their only exit to the outside. It stood unopened, vigilant as ever against the hazards of the world, and from both sides of the gate expanded the giant wall of scavenged metal and brick that circled around the entire town. Matt ascended the stairs leading up to the walkway atop the wall.

Standing on the walkway was Uncle Harry, rifle in hand, scanning the outside world for the slightest trace of danger. His old militia armour was scratched and dented with the wounds of countless battles, and his worn, tired face seemed far beyond its age. As Matt approached, Harry took his eyes off the scope and turned to greet his nephew.

“Matthew,” he said in his cheery, hoarse tones, “I was hoping you'd be up before midday.”
Matthew grinned, “What a surprise, eh?” he said jokingly.

“A surprise indeed,” replied his uncle, “And for what am I rewarded this pleasure of your early rising?”

“Actually it's your fault really,” said Matt, “You woke me up with the sound of that rifle of yours.”

“Oh did I?” he said with a cheeky grin on his face, “How unfortunate for you to have your precious beauty sleep interrupted.”

“Oh fuck off, Harry,” replied Matt in mild jest, “What were you shooting at anyway?”

“Me?” queried Harry, as if surprised by the idea, “Well I wasn't shooting at anything, I was just thinking about a good way to get you up early and then low and behold, my gun misfired twice.”

Matthew laughed dryly at this, not believing him for a second, “Of course it did.”

“So there's nothing to worry about then?” Matt asked, quite serious now.

“Well I wouldn't say that,” Harry replied grimly, “Take a look,” he said offering over his scoped rifle.

“Are you serious?” said Matt, looking at the beautifully maintained hunting rifle. Matt was far from a gun nut, but he knew the incredible value the rifle held for his uncle, and that the only other person Harry had ever allowed to use it was Matt's own father.

“I'm serious,” Harry told him, still holding out the gun, “Just to look through the scope now, no pulling the trigger.”

With a cautious and respectful hand, Matt reached out and took hold of the rifle. As Uncle Harry let go of it, Matt felt the tremendous weight of the gun in his hand. He struggled to hold it steady as he took it in two hands.

“Here, like this,” said Harry, moving Matt's hand on the barrel, “Hold it here, just in front of the clip, that's better, gives you more control.”

Matt lifted the rifle slowly and looked though the scope down the steep canyon outside the gate of Colwood.

Colwood lies at the top of a small valley, with only one path up to the main gate, and surrounded on its other sides by insurmountable rocky hills. In times of danger, when Colwood faces threat, the single, narrow bottleneck up to the town has served well in their defence.
Matt looked down the narrow path through the scope, the magnification allowing him to see as far down as possible, where the path met the rest of the canyon and splintered off into three paths.

“See anything unusual?” Harry asked.

“Not particularly,” Matt replied.

“Keep looking.”

Matt wondered what it was he was looking for, when suddenly he spotted it. Hard as it was to see, he noticed that at the very bottom of the path, almost hidden by a corner, were a few spent bullet cases, and an empty magazine.

“Someone's been shooting down there,” Matt stated, wondering why this was significant.

“Exactly,” replied Harry, taking back his rifle promptly, “And I've talked to Grimes, he said they weren't there during his watch last night.”

“So it wouldn't have been any of our people,” murmured Matt to himself.

“Right,” his uncle agreed, “That means someone has been snooping around here, likely Wilders, or worse.”

“What do we do?” Matt asked.

“What we always do,” replied Harry, “We keep alert, pull a couple more people on the guard shifts and make sure everyone knows to be careful. Do me a favour and tell Max for me, I can't risk leaving the wall just now.”

Matt nodded obediently, before remembering to ask, “Have you seen Lucy this morning?”

“No not today, Matthew,” he answered, “But you'll probably find her following her wonderful Maximilian,” he put a great deal of mocking emphasis on the name.

Matt nodded again before hurrying off down the stairs and further into town.

*

Matthew entered the commune, a large central building in the middle of Colwood. Inside, he found the central dining area was reasonably quiet. The many tables and park benches were mostly vacant, aside from a few late risers getting breakfast.

As Matthew crossed the quiet central area he heard a voice call out to him, “Oi! Matt, get over here!” He saw in the door frame to the kitchen a large, tanned woman standing, in apron and chef's hat.

“Hey, Theresa,” Matt replied, heading over to the kitchen.

Theresa disappeared back into the kitchen, and as Matt entered he saw she was hard at work preparing a multitude of dishes for the midday meal.

“Did you want me for something, Theresa?”

“Oh not much,” said Theresa, “Just a little chat. Would you mind chopping up those onions for me?”

Matt obliged, crossing to the counter where the onions sat, and began chopping.

“So I saw Lucy this morning,” Theresa said, in a suspiciously casual manner.

“Oh did you?” replied Matt, “When was that? I haven't seen her today.”

Theresa ignored his question as she swerved around him, moving various pots and pans off and on the heat of her stove, which was run by a small generator.

“She was wearing your revolver when I saw her,” Theresa said, putting as little emotion as possible into the statement.

“Yeah she must've taken it this morning.”

Theresa sighed, turning to face Matt she said, “That's what I'm worried about.”

Matt stopped chopping the onions when he saw the serious look on her face.

“You need to watch your sister more carefully, Matthew.”

“I try to keep an eye on her,” Matt replied, “I really do.”

“I know you do,” said Theresa, sighing again, “And it's unfair that you've had to take care of her, there's been times I've wanted to smack Harry in the face for the way he leaves you two to fend for yourself.”

“We're not his responsibility,” replied Matt, parroting back the same think his Uncle told him when he turned ten, “He's not my dad.”

“And you're not your dad either,” Theresa said sternly, “If you're uncle was as decent as you think he is he'd have let you stay in his own home and he'd be the one keeping watch on your sister.”

“What are you getting at?” snapped Matt, starting to get annoyed.

Theresa put a hand on his shoulder, “Look, your sister's getting older, and she's at that terrible age where she's going to get way in over her head. You need to keep a closer watch on her, or this world is gonna swallow her up.”

Matthew nodded slowly, “It's hard,” he said quietly, “She doesn't look up to me like she used to. Last week I tried to tell her she wasn't old enough to come with us on a scavenging run and she started screaming at me, saying I had no right to say what she could do and that I wasn't her dad.”

Theresa saw he was getting teary-eyed and she knew it had nothing to do with the onions. She pulled him in close for one of her tremendous bear hugs.

“She's upstairs with Max just now,” Theresa said, “You ought to get up there.”

“Can you come with me?” Matt asked, wiping his eyes, “If I'm gonna end up arguing with either of them I'd rather have you at my back.”

“All right,” she replied, “But this is the only time I'm putting my neck on the line for you, Maximilian will have my head if I stick my nose where it doesn't belong.” Theresa quickly checked that nothing would burn or overcook while she was away, and then left the kitchen with Matt.

Matt was pleased and surprised Theresa agreed to come, she always seemed scared of Maximilian, despite her obvious physical advantage over him.

They headed up the stairs at the back of the commune, the second floor was made up of a few workshop rooms, and a large study-like room that Max treated like an office.

Maximilian Edwards. Though only twenty-six, Maximilian was the man who dealt with organizing the scavenging, scouting, and security for the town. He seemed to take this to mean he was in charge of Colwood, even though the town hadn't had a mayor since the death of the last one eleven years before. Whatever the case, he treated the town like his, he had many friends, and a few enemies to boot.

Matt knocked on the office door.

“Come in,” came the clear, practised tones of Maximilian.

Matt opened the door to see Max, sitting peering at the ancient typewriter on his desk, hard to see as it was in the dim light cast by the sun shining in through the window. His slicked back blonde hair laughing at Matt's own mess of a hairdo whilst his sharp, if a little dirty, suit gave him a look of an old world accountant, he was about as nice too.

Across the desk, sat in her usual blouse and shorts with long black leggings, was Lucy. Matt noticed his revolver in it's holster on Lucy's leg. It looked slightly ridiculous on her, but behind her long silky brown hair she looked at him with a smug, triumphant look.

“Ah, Matthew Colwood,” said Maximilian, looking up from his desk, “To what do I owe the displeasure?” he said with barely contained contempt.

Matt did nothing to hide his scowl as he stepped into the office. Theresa merely rolled her eyes at their petty rivalry.

“And Theresa,” continued Max, “Shouldn't you be getting lunch ready?”

“It can wait a few minutes,” she replied.

“What do you want then?” asked Max, switching his attention back to Matthew.

“I came to see my sister actually,” he replied.

His sister looked at him, still smug, “You're not getting it back,” she said tapping the revolver at her leg, “I'll be needing it soon.”

“And why is that?” said Matt angrily.

“Well because she'll need some protection when she's out today,” interjected Maximilian, “We've been discussing matters and I've decided Lucy should be allowed to join today's scavenging team.”

“What?” said a shocked Theresa, “You'd let a child go out there?”

“It's not your decision,” said Matt firmly.

“Since when?” said a rather offended Max.

“Since always!” snapped Matt, “She's my sister and I'm not gonna let her wander out there where's there's Wilders and coyote's and who knows what else!”

“It's my scav team I decide who makes the cut!” retorted Max.

“She's a child! What if she runs into Wilders and she gets shot!”

Lucy was about to make her own rebuttal when Max overrode her, “Matthew you've been scouting and scavving for us since you were fifteen! Lucy's only one year younger and excuse me for saying but she's far more mature.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at her! I doubt she can even hold that revolver up and you want me to trust her to be out there where she might need to use it?”

“You have no authority here!” Max shouted, his anger now untempered, “Now get out of my office!”
“Will you two quit arguing?” said Theresa, trying to keep things civil, though it was way past that.

“Listen here Matthew,” said Maximilian irately, “Your grandfather may have founded this town, but you are not in charge of people's lives!”

“And neither are you!” Matt shouted, “She's fourteen, she's my sister and she's my responsibility!”

“You're not my Dad!” shouted Lucy, standing out of her chair.

“Well somebody has to be because in case you didn't notice, he's dead!”

“Enough shouting!” bellowed Theresa from the back, her booming voice silencing them all. Matt took a deep breath as Lucy settled back into her chair. Max noticed a few of the people who were downstairs had come up to the corridor, worried by the shouting.

“It's all right,” he said to them, “We're just having a discussion.” They retreated downstairs, few people wanted to face Maximilian when he was angry.

“You're not going on the scavenging team,” said Matt calmly, trying to add a sense of finality to the statement.

Theresa decided to appeal to Maximilian.

“Max,” she said, “Be reasonable, Lucy's fourteen. Maybe she seems older but she's still young. There are other ways she could help Colwood, why not let her work with me in the kitchen?”

Max leaned back in his chair, he seemed to understand he wasn't winning this one “I suppose,” he said slowly, “I made a misjudgement.”

Lucy's face fell, “So what that's it?” she said, giving Maximilian a furious look, “One word from them and I'm stuck making stew for the rest of my life?”

“Matt is the closest you have to a parent, Lucy, as ridiculous as I find that,” said Max now head in his hands from frustration, “If he believes you're too young to go on a scavenging run, it is ultimately his decision.”

“It's not forever,” said Matt, trying to be understanding, “Just until your old enough to handle yourself.”

“I can handle myself,” Lucy replied, her tone more pleading than angry now, “I really can.”

Matt didn't reply, he simply shook his head slowly. When nobody said anything Lucy got up once again and went over to Theresa.

“I'm sorry,” she said sheepishly, “Let's go get to work then.”

“It's all right, child,” Theresa said, “I was naive and impetuous myself once.”

Theresa and Lucy headed in unison down to the kitchen, while Matt remained behind in Max's office.

“I've had enough of this, Max,” he said once Lucy was out of earshot.”

“Enough of what?” said Max looking genuinely puzzled.

“You filling my sister's head with bullshit,” Matt said bluntly.

“Would you care to explain?” Max replied, looking slightly amused by this accusation.

“She spends most days around here helping you out with your work,” Matt said, “She obviously looks up to you, she respects your opinion a fat lot more than she does mine.”

“That's because I treat her better and more respectfully than you.”

“The fuck it is!” exclaimed Matt, “It's cause you treat her like she's a woman when she's still just a little girl! You fill her head with ideas, that she's old enough to join the scav team, that she's ready to fight, see the outside. You have no idea how damn dangerous it is out there!”

“So I'm not allowed to voice my opinion now am I?” said Max, rising out of his chair. Matt stepped threateningly towards him. Max was nearly a decade older, and taller too, but Matt wasn't scared, not when Lucy's safety was at stake.

“If it poses a threat to my sister, then no, you can keep your opinions to yourself.”

“And how are you gonna stop me?” Maximilian said tauntingly, laughing slightly.

Matt thought for a moment. He realised there was no way he could stop Max talking to Lucy, so long as she kept spending time with him.

“She's not going to be helping you around here any more,” Matt said finally, “She can keep working with Theresa in the kitchen.”

Max sat down, he sighed, resigning himself, “Fine,” he breathed. He looked back down at his desk and began writing up some notes on his old typewriter.

“If that's all then you can see yourself out.”

But Matt remained, he still had to tell Max about what Uncle Harry had spotted. Matt stood there, still contemplating Max's audacity, acting as if he knew what was best for his sister. He would like nothing more than to see Max run out of Colwood, though he knew that was unlikely.

“Is there something else you need?” asked Max when he noticed Matt still standing there.

“There's someone out there we don't know about, armed and dangerous.”

This caught Max's attention long enough for him to glance upwards from his desk, “What do you mean?”

“My uncle spotted cases and a magazine near the bottom of the path,” Matt explained, “Someone out there is shooting at something right outside our front door.”

“Hmm,” Max stood up from his desk and turned to the window behind him, “All right, I'll make sure everyone knows. We'll stick a couple more on the wall just in case.”

“Thanks, Max,” Matt said as he turned to the door.

“Wait a sec,” Max called after him as he reached the corridor.

“What?” he said, turning around.

“I need another man,” Max began, “For today's scavenging run. Since your adamant Lucy stay in Colwood.”

Matt could see that Max wasn't happy with what had happened, but he didn't really care.

“I'll go with the team if that's what you want.”

“Excellent,” said Max, “The team's leaving after lunch , you'll meet them at the front gate.”

Matt nodded and once again turned to leave.

“Oh you'll need to tell Sam when you're leaving, she's on the team too.”

“Sure thing,” said Matt, not bothering to turn this time.

*

Matthew headed off towards Sam's, having taken his revolver back off Lucy. It wasn't far from the commune and Matt soon found himself at the church's doorstep. He knocked on the door of the small church. The Church of the Old World was one of the cleanest and appealing buildings in Colwood, still standing since before the wartimes.

The door opened and Matt saw the fat, jolly Father Mulligan in his well kept reverend's clothes.

“Well hello Matthew!” he said in his boisterous, deep voice, “What can I do for you today?”

“Is Sam in just now?” Matt asked.

“Of course,” replied the Father, “She's just putting Amy down for her nap.” Father Mulligan beckoned Matthew into the church.

They wandered through the rows of pews to the back rooms, where Father Mulligan and his daughters lived. The Father offered him a seat in the sitting room whilst he went and fetched Sam.

As Matt took his seat and waited he couldn't help but look around in envy at the Mulligan's house. It was far more lavish than any of the shacks or tents most other people had to make do with, and there was a distinct absence of the musty dull scent that coated the rest of the town.. Though much of the furniture had been worn with time, and the floral wallpaper was horrific, Matt was still jealous.

Sam came through soon after. Sam was the only other person in Colwood who was Matt's age, and had been his best friend since he was six, though within recent years he'd started to see her in a different light. She looked gorgeous as ever to Matt, despite her somewhat dishevelled appearance and her dirty blonde hair, cut short out of necessity.

“Hey, Matt,” she said standing in the doorway, “What's up?”

Matt stood up, “I'm here cause Maximilian said-”

“Am I on the team?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes,” he said, nodding, “That's it.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaimed, rushing forwards and hugging him with joy.

“We're uh, leaving after lunch,” he continued, blushing slightly as she stopped hugging him.

“Oh you're coming too?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, I'm coming since their one short.”

“Great,” she said, “It'll be good having someone I know with me.”

Matt nodded in agreement, smiling, “Anyway I better get going, see you soon yeah?”

“Why don't you stay for lunch?” she asked.

“It's fine, really, I had some stew earlier, I'll see you later.” With that he hurried out of the church, and back towards his shack.

*

As midday passed and the sun swung over to the west Matthew stepped out his shack to the gate where four people had gathered for the scavenging run. Sam gave him a friendly wave when she saw him, and a tall, black man behind her gave him a glare as he joined them.

“Well,” said the man, “Now that we're all here, we can get going. If you don't know me my name is Geoffrey, and if you make fun of it I will punch you. I'm leading the run today so everyone stick close and do exactly as I say.”

Sam, Matt and the other two scavengers nodded and made murmurs of agreement, all quite intimidated by Geoffrey.

“Everyone take a rucksack,” he continued, “And do we all have weapons?”

Matt double checked his revolver's cylinder as he took a backpack from the pile at Geoffrey's feet. Sam pumped her shotgun enthusiastically.

“Okay then,” said Geoffrey, “Last thing, Maximilian says we gotta be extra careful on this run, since it seems someone has been running round shooting his gun nearby.”

With that, Geoffrey pulled across the two large bolts on Colwood's gate, and lead them out into the wide world.

“Good luck, Matt,” Uncle Harry called from the wall. Matt gave his uncle a friendly salute as they headed away.

“And try not to balls it up this time Geoffrey!” he shouted afterwards. Geoffrey looked back for a brief second, infuriated by Harry's remark, but then it passed and he continued leading them down the path.

[End Chapter 1]