A Story of Cinders: From the Ashes

Chapter 37: Wasteland

The craft landed about 20 miles outside of Koyec. A plume of gray ash erupted from the ground as the rotors kicked up the gray covering. Their boots touched down on the brown sheet of earth underneath. "Head north until you get there! If you hit Ground Zero, you've gone too far!" Will shouted over the rotors. John shot back a thumbs up, covering his face from the storm of ash. Simmons pulled the craft up, then it disappeared into the dull air, the sound fading away gradually. John watched the craft be swallowed by the void, then pulled out his compass, looking for a precise azimuth. In the distance of their path of travel, John could make out slight black shapes, like fingers jutting out from the nothingness, disrupting the perfect fade of the horizon. He put his compass away, and motioned to the team to head off. The group hung together, a little tighter than usual. "You said you've been here before, right Charlie?" Louis said.

"Yeah, once a few years back," Charlie said, seeming distracted. "Nothing good came out of it. Made a point of staying away from it since."

"What happened?" John asked.

"I came up here to help save a family," Charlie lied. "Couldn't save 'em. First bounty I ever failed."

"That's rough," John replied. He could sympathize. Especially with Ben's death. More people who trusted in him. More people he let down. Failed.

"I was up here a couple years ago," Louis said. "Back when I ran with the Desolate."

"Was that your Ground Zero experience?" Charlie asked. He seemed much more animated with that question than before.

"No," Louis responded. "That was closer to Pinnacle. Around Las Vegas." Charlie nodded his head, and the group went quiet.

It was an eerily quiet march. Their boots made no sound as they struck the ash. The wind blew, but softly and quietly. There weren't even animals calling. No birds, no rodents, not even the buzzing of insects. Nothing was happening, yet a tension lingered in the air. Perhaps it was because nothing was happening. They were marching toward the most important moment in their mission, and it seemed like the world was watching, being quiet so as to not disturb them. Or perhaps because this entire area was dead. The very earth itself was dead and burned to ash. Even the sun seemed dead, as it could not break through from behind the thick clouds of ash.

The black shapes on the horizon became clearer and clearer. It was a forest. Was a forest. Now it was merely a burnt-out husk. What were once massive, grandiose pines were now merely used matchsticks jutting from the soil. Large mounds broke the flat, even ground, logs and stumps buried underneath the ash. Tall blackened trunks still loomed overhead, like watchful sentinels, observing these four visitors to their cemetery land. Presumably this would stretch on until Koyec. John's eyes darted around, looking at everything ahead. He looked back to make sure everyone was keeping up. Red and Louis had their heads nervously on swivels. They were tense, and John could feel it. But Charlie was on another level of tension. He was robotic. Stiff. The cigarette on his lips had the filter torn off. His finger was hovering over the trigger well on his rifle. Seeing him like this seemed wrong. Usually he was relaxed, assured that nothing would ever be out of his control. He was never like this. Something about him was off, and it wasn't just the setting. It was like he was anticipating an ambush. But what out here could attack them? Ghosts?

Something stirred. John saw it out of the corner of his eye. All four of them snapped to the position of the disturbance, guns fixed on the spot. The ash had been unsettled. It drifted about like a misty spirit. Slowly, John crept toward the cloud, keeping his rifle at the ready. He kneeled down, reaching his hand slowly outward. It rested on the ground. Something solid laid underneath. A log? No.