The walk to Scrap Metal, the town closest to the Harris's farm, took Matt the better part of an hour, marching under the menacing sun. Even though the physical walk across the flat plain was not strenuous, the heat made it tiresome. Matt's eyes shone a little when he lay eyes upon the sprawling settlement, build up from salvaged metal plates from tanks and downed aircraft that were destroyed during the war. The rusted steel and zinc buildings blended in against the mottled gold colour of the ground, an ugly stain against the blue sky above. As unpleasant as it was to look upon, the place was home to many people and they were thankful to have roofs above their heads.
Matt stepped into town, nodding hello to Bill the watchman who was posted at the gate. His rifle sparkled in the light of the morning sun, a clear reminder to the danger that was ever present. Not that one man could have any hope of holding off a raid from bandits, the gun was merely a deterrent for petty criminals. There was no need to show any identification to Bill, for Matt had visited many times before to trade in the marketplace.
Dust scattered into the air as Matt walked, kicked up from the dry ground with every step. He wracked his brain, trying to remember the way to his aunt's house. It had been so many yaers since he had visited. Margaret hadn't been on such good terms with her sister. Not since her husband had disappeared. After a few minutes of thinking, Matt still couldn't remember. He resolved to stop and ask someone, before he wasted more time.
"Uh, excuse me. Do you know Miss Frieda Jenkins?" Matt asked a man who was leaning against one of the rusted buildings, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. Of all the things you'd waste your money on, Matt thought as he wrinkled his nose at the smell. He waved away a puff of smoke as the man exhaled.
"I might. Who wants to know?" The man replied, staring at Matt through aviator sunglasses that were missing the lenses.
"Matt Harris. Mrs. Jenkins is my aunt," Matt replied plainly, watching the man take another drag from his cigarette. The smoke trailed out of the edges of his mouth and from his nostrils, disgusting Matt entirely.
"Is she now? I don't remember ever hearing about a nephew," the man said, eyeing Matt with the bloodshot globes fixed into his skull. Matt just stared back, already familiar with the necessary protocol. No one in Scrap Metal ever gave a straight answer until after they put the asker through their own personal trial. Helped keep secrets away from outsiders. After a few more moments the man ceased eyeballing Matt and took another long drag from his cigarette.
"Ah, now I remember you. Freida lives in the last house down that there alleyway," the man said, pointing to a path that lay between two particularly rusted buildings.
"Thanks Tom. I will never understand this game. Even though you know me, and have known me for years, you still gotta give me the stink eye. What gives?" Matt asked, a smile creeping onto his face.
"I have to make sure you are still you," Tom said, squinting at Matt, scrunching his face up like he had just tasted a lemon.
"And why wouldn't I be me?" Matt asked, genuinely concerned. It didn't seem like Tom was joking and he never was the joking type.
"You haven't heard? People have been going missing recently. Just disappearing out of thin air. They go out for a walk and then BAM! Gone. I'm not sure what's been happening to them, but it's gotta be someting bad. Like replacing their brain with an A.I core! I don't know, but it keeps me up at night," Tom said, waving his hands and gesturing as he did so. His eyes grew wide and wild as he gazed off past Matt, deep in his own thoughts.
"A.I. core?"
"Artificial intelligence. Didn't your father teach you nothing?"
"Replacing our brains? That's crazy talk!"
Tom froze at the word "crazy" locking his eyes with Matt's, a smoke trail leading from the lit end of the cigarette. "It ain't crazy. The Ascendancy would do it. Don't look at me like that boy! Haven't you ever heard of the Ascendancy?"
Matt shook his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. "No, never heard of it. What is this Ascendancy thing?"
"There's been talk of a rising power in the west. Cities being rebuilt and armed men patrolling factories and research facilities. They've been bringing back technology boy, but from what I've been hearing, their methods are unnatural. It's some weird shit goin' on over there and I wouldn't doubt they've been the ones kidnapping people. For experiments and such. I haven't seen them myself but people have talked about men in these armoured suits, driving around in trucks! There's been nuthin' like that since the Great War. At least not in these parts. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it," Tom explained, again making use of his arms to exaggerate his points. He then flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his foot. Any small spark could light up a large fire, especially in the heat and dryness of the day.
Matt considered Tom's story, beginning to believe the man's madness. The man always had some tale to tell about some weird thing going on but this time Matt felt like there was some truth. He had seen the strange men that Tom had described and witnessed his sister's kidnapping. His gut churned as he thought about the experiments Tom had talked about, hoping that was not his sister's fate.
"They just gotta be rumours," Matt said, trying to hide his nervousness. They just gotta be.
"Maybe so but I ain't taking no chances. I've always got my eyes peeled for trouble," Tom replied, opening his eyes wide for effect.
"Alright . . . Well, I'd better get going. Thanks for the information," Matt said, beginning to turn away from the man. Tom tipped his head in response, pretending to lower a hat that was not there.
"Anytime. Now you best be staying out of trouble, ya hear?"
Matt nodded as he began to walk towards the alley Tom had pointed out, headed for his aunt's place. His mind raced as he thought about his sister, in the clutches of what Tom had described as The Ascendency. He imagined Rose strapped against an operating table, with men in white lab coats all around her, administering drugs and toxins, taking notes on the effects. His heart began to race at his own waking nightmare, only making his drive to rescue his sister stronger. He blinked hard and shook his head, clearing the day dream from his thoughts.
With an empty mind, Matt marched down the alleyway, destined for the last house on the path. It was a small little shack, cobbled together from what appeared to be the fuselage of a large bomber airplane, wide and thick. The remnants of a wing stuck up at the sky on a diagonal, with lawn chairs set up beneath it. Matt smiled at this, amused that even in such a bleak town, little homy comforts still existed.
Matt stepped up to the rusted metal door and rapped on it a few times, making sure it was forceful. He had learned that if you didn't hit the metal hard enough, no one inside would hear you and then you would be stuck outside waiting. Matt was in no mood to wait that morning. For that reason he was relieved to see the door open only a few seconds after he knocked, revealing a grumpy looking woman in an apron scowling at him, hands on her hips.
"What do you want?" she snapped, running her eyes up and down Matt's dirty figure. Her scowl deepened, as she was clearly disgusted with Matt's appearance.
"I'm here to talk to Frieda Jenkins," Matt said, not at all losing his cool.
"And who are you?" the woman asked. Matt didn't think it was possible for her face to scowl any futher but to his astonishment, she did.
"Her nephew,"
"Matt?" the woman said, her scowl disappearing, replaced by a look of confusion. Matt simply nodded in reply, still standing before the doorway. So I assume this is Frieda, he thought to himself, noticing the resemblance to his mother. Just like Margaret, his aunt had messy brown hair and brown eyes that always seemed to be angry. She was stout as well, just like his mother. If he didn't know Margaret was older, he would have guessed they were twins.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well . . . actually --"
"Get to the point!" Frieda butted in, her scowl returning in full force.
"Alright. I have to leave the farm for business I'd rather keep to myself. Don't worry, Margaret knows that I've gone but she doesn't know I've stopped here. Now, she'd never admit it but she can't live on her own, or at least, I don't think she'd last too long. So, what I'm asking is, could she stay with you until I return? And if yes, could you send someone to go get her 'cause I have to get moving and I don't have time to go back and forth," Matt said, trying to sound as persuasive as possible.
"What about your sister? Can't she take care of her?" Frieda asked, cocking her head to the side.
Shit. "Uhh, well . . ."
"Out with it!"
Not knowing what else to do, Matt resigned to the truth. "She was taken. You know the talk of strange disappearances and armed men going around? Well she was kidnapped by them, in front of my own eyes. Now I'm going to get her back,"
There was a moment of silence as Frieda stared at Matt, considering his words. A second later she threw her head back and burst out into laughter, a loud and piercing sound that caused Matt to cringe.
"No, no! I'm telling the truth," he cried, trying to speak over her racous laughter. It took a few moments for Frieda to control herself but eventually she stopped laughing and the scowl returned to her face.
"You expect me to believe that sort of rubbish?
"What else can I do? You just have to trust me. Put aside whatever shit is still going on between you two and just go help your sister so that I can go and help mine," Matt said, his tone turning fierce. He was done trying to be nice as it was clear it was getting him nowhere.
Frieda sighed heavily before she opened her mouth to speak. "Fine. I guess you wouldn't come all the way out here and visit me for no reason. I'll send my eldest son when he gets home from the shop. I guess this will be a good oppourtunity for us to work everything out. You know, I can't even remember why we stopped talking to each other . . ."
"Thank you. Oh, tell your son not to take no for an answer. You know Margaret. She's too damn proud to let anyone help her. Tell him to make something up if he has to. I don't think she will be difficult, not in this situation, but I wouldn't put it past her,"
"Alright, I hope you find your sister," Frieda said soothingly, trying her best at a smile. While Matt did appreciate her effort, he had to bite on his tongue to stop himself from laughing at the twisted attempt at a grin that lay across Frieda's face.
"Thanks again. Now, I better get going, I have a long ways to go," Matt said, bowing his head slightly. He heard Frieda say good luck as he turned, heading back down the alleyway he had come through.
The rest of the town passed by without incident and it wasn't long before Matt found himself back in the middle of the dry plains, with brown grass swaying in the wind. He pulled out his map and looked at it for a brief second, making sure he was going in the right direction. The jeep had driven away to the west, disappearing over the horizon. Matt figured he could follow the map to the next settlement and ask around, see if anyone had noticed anything. It wasn't much of a plan but it was a start and he knew he had to begin somewhere. He folded up the map and returned it to its pocket as he began to march off along the barren plain.