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Chronicles of Wastelands

The humankind, unprepared, was almost brought down to its knees by an asteroid collision, and now, amidst the ruins of the civilization, it is up to the remaining lucky few to stand up and fight for their survival, be it hunger, ghouls, or other people. With the new status quo, one can only forget about living peacefully in these new wastelands! TL note: This work is intended only for the adult audience as it contains profane and heavy adult-themed content. It is not my original work. This story is written by [Арнольд2], a somewhat obscure forum writer from Latvia. The original language is Russian, so if you want to read the original work, you can search for "Хроники Пустошей", or can continue reading my translation if Russian isn't your strong suit. Ah, please note that this is written in multiple POVs and there is no singular protagonist. There are a couple of leads in each volume be it male or female

Shallowman · Action
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11 Chs

Purgatory (2)

[Emma]

Sitting on the porch in front of the house after tidying up Ben's room, I realized something important. Some things should be taken more lightly. Remembering how boldly I behaved upstairs, I was initially ready to sink through the ground in shame, but then I decided that nothing terrible had happened. I helped Ben climax, and he helped me climax. More accurately, he didn't just help, he practically made me. And although I enjoyed it, I hoped there would be no repeat because I didn't want to accidentally get attached to a brute who had my mother's life in his hands.

When Ben walked out of the barn and headed my way, it was not the first time today that I acknowledged that either I was too narrow-minded, or I had vision problems. Otherwise, how could I explain that I used to consider him an old man? Yes, he was n years older than me, but that wasn't old age. Without his shaggy mane and beard, he looked much better, if you ignored the piercing gaze and angry expression on his face. Ben was clearly not in a good mood.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. But..."

"You have seven minutes and not a second more!"

"Yes, you better explain what this is all about!" I demanded, getting up.

Instead of an answer, Ben simply walked past me and entered the house. Clearly, details would come later. Today's breakfast consisted not only of stale bread and tea, but also a leftover pâté from a dry ration. The pâté itself was not fresh, but I finished it quite quickly.

Throughout breakfast, Mom tried not to look in my direction. On the contrary, I observed her closely, trying to gauge her condition. The high fever no longer manifested itself, but the ugly sores had already reached her neck. Concluding that Mom was worried precisely because of this, I wanted to say something encouraging, but I couldn't come up with anything except banal nonsense, so I remained silent.

The awkward atmosphere was interrupted by Ben descending to the first floor. He had a submachine gun hanging from his belt, and a bat and a shotgun were visible from behind his back. In his hands, Ben held a backpack.

"I hope you didn't lose the revolver?" he asked me.

I shook my head. Ben approached me, placed about 20 revolver cartridges on the table, and put the backpack on the floor.

"Wait outside," he ordered.

Realizing that Ben wanted to have a word with my mom before leaving, I gathered the cartridges in a handful and stashed them in my pocket. Taking the revolver from under the mattress, I picked up the backpack and went outside. During Ben's absence, I loaded the revolver and inspected the contents of the backpack. I found several spare magazines, food, water, a couple of flashlights, and signal flares. What could possibly be the reason for all this? I asked Ben this question when he came out of the house.

"For another picnic. Although this time it's more like a fun-filled weekend," he replied.

"What do you mean, a weekend? Are we leaving for a whole day?!" I exclaimed, surprised and concerned.

"At the very least."

"What about Mom? What..."

"Nothing bad will happen to her. The house has everything she needs. I've instructed her about everything else," Ben rushed to reassure me.

"And don't you want to instruct me?"

"I don't."

Seeing that Ben wasn't in the mood for conversation, I decided not to bombard him with questions, knowing he would tell me everything on the way. We set off and headed east. My injured leg from the encounter with the ghouls in the evening was slightly sore, but it didn't affect the speed of our movement. We walked not as fast as during yesterday's trip to the Wasteland, allowing me to once again enjoy the desolate landscapes of the ruined world.

Why "once again"? Because my mom and I had been here before. We were heading towards the same store where Ben saved me and my mom from those monsters. At first, I assumed that my companion had forgotten something there and wanted to retrieve it, taking me along just in case. However, when Ben mentioned that the upcoming trip would take at least a whole day, I became wary and started to suspect his intentions. My suspicions grew stronger after we passed by the store without making an attempt to look inside. I knew that there wouldn't be anything interesting in the nearest 10 kilometers on our way, and I had a hunch about our destination.

"What did you forget in the Purgatory?" I asked after the store was behind us.

"Nothing. How could I forget anything if I haven't been there in a long time?" Ben replied with a question.

"Then why are we going there?"

Ben finally stopped and looked at me not very warmly.

"To pay for your treatment. Maybe you don't know, but the antidote is an expensive luxury," he said irritably.

"And what exactly do you want to find there? Anything that we can carry away? Or something specific?" I inquired, ignoring his grumpy tone.

"Something specific," Ben replied and continued walking.

Oh, what a terrible conversationalist he was. I myself, when I'm in a rage, can blabber all sorts of nonsense. Ben, on the other hand, did the opposite and remained tight-lipped, as if he was being interrogated. In my opinion, it was very foolish of him.

"Don't you think that if you tell me in more detail why exactly we are going to Purgatory, I could be more useful to you?" I asked directly, trying to lead Ben into an open conversation again.

"Bob sent a few of his boys to steal something from the military. They did it, but on their way back, we lost contact with them in Purgatory. Most likely, they died. I'm required to retrieve what they didn't deliver and deliver it to Bob," he explained.

"And who is this Bob?"

"A scoundrel and a lowlife who would gladly slit my throat." Quite an exhaustive answer, nothing more to say. But was I expecting anything different from Ben? I admit, he's not the complete scum I thought he was before, but he's far from being an angel. It's no wonder he deals with people he doesn't particularly like.

Partially satisfying my curiosity, I refrained from asking unnecessary questions. After taking a short break, we rested a bit and continued further. After about four more kilometers, without saying a word to each other, the ground beneath our feet changed to cracked asphalt. On the left side of the road we were walking on, I saw a ruined sign with the words "Welcome to". It was hard to guess exactly where we were welcomed to since part of the sign with the name of the city was missing. I knew that the city once known as Purgatory had a completely different name before, but I couldn't remember what it was exactly.

I was born in the old world, before the catastrophe, and now I hardly remembered what it was like. Whether it was as great as they told us in the safe zone or whether it was not so smooth, it didn't matter anymore. When the sign was left behind, and the ruins of the once flourishing metropolis appeared far ahead, Ben's mood, as it seemed to me, noticeably improved. Deciding to take advantage of this and learn more about my companion, I asked him what he did before the catastrophe.

"I was in prison," came his immediate response.

And who was pulling me to speak? But since I started it, I had to follow through.

"What for?" I inquired.

Ben smirked.

"You won't believe it. For rape," he confessed.

"Well, it's not hard to believe in that," I blurted out without thinking and immediately flinched, expecting that my last remark would not sit well with Ben, and he would hit me.

Instead, he laughed, put his hand on my head, and ruffled my hair.

"The story is actually quite dark and unclear. If you're interested, I'll tell you later. Maybe," Ben said with a smile, removing his hand from my head.

The desolate city greeted us with empty streets and a small group of dead people. The deceased lay near a destroyed bus stop, fifteen meters from the intersection of three roads. Some of them were half-naked. Seeing the dead bodies, I stopped, while Ben, on the contrary, quickened his pace. After inspecting one of the bodies, he turned his face towards me and asked what shoe size I wore. Understanding why he asked this question, I replied that I would not wear shoes from a dead person.

"Suit yourself. Your sneakers have seen better days, so don't be surprised if the soles fall off on the way back," Ben didn't insist.

Inspecting the footwear, I concluded that my companion wasn't far from the truth. On the one hand, I didn't want to wear boots from a corpse, but on the other hand, I wanted to walk through the Wasteland barefoot even less. It so happened that one of the deceased, about my age, had the same shoe size. Instead of my worn-out, falling-apart sneakers, I received black army boots from the dead boy and packed them in my backpack.

And now about the unpleasant part. I'm not exactly sure when those guys caught bullets, but it couldn't have been more than an hour ago. Those who stripped them might still be wandering nearby," warned Ben.

"Are they military?" I inquired.

"Not necessarily. When there's something to loot, even clothing, people become less picky."

"But you still haven't told me exactly what we're looking for. What's the chance that these guys, just like the ones who dealt with them, came to Purgatory for a different reason than us?"

"Anything is possible. And what we're looking for is a silver suitcase with a specific mark."

Picking up a stone, Ben approached me, bent down, and drew on the ground what the mark looked like. Without asking where Ben knew so much about an item he hadn't even seen, I asked what this mark meant.

"Biological hazard," replied Ben.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"You heard right. If we get hold of this little suitcase, Bob will back off for a while. Until he finds another excuse."

"You're out of your mind! This can't be done!" I protested.

"It can be done. I'd gladly hand it over to someone else if I got a more interesting offer. But first, we need to find that damn suitcase," Ben replied, making it clear that the moral aspect of the matter hardly bothered him.

But it bothered me. Everything inside me protested against such a decision. And even though I knew that my mother's life depended on this man, I was ready to engage in a heated argument with him until I noticed armed men in military uniforms emerging at the intersection from the left.

Intercepting my alarmed gaze, Ben turned sharply. Spotting the uninvited guests, he grabbed me by the hand, and we managed to hide behind the bus stop before they noticed us. Crouching down, I pulled out my revolver with trembling hands. Ben didn't rush to follow my example. Carefully peeking out from behind the bus stop, I noticed that there were only six of them: five soldiers and one prisoner whom they were dragging along by a rope tied to his hands. The prisoner was also dressed in military uniform, albeit dirty and torn. He looked like the whole bunch of them had taken turns kicking him. Judging by the way the tattered uniform hung on him like a sack, it clearly wasn't his clothes.

I was about to inform Ben about my observations, but when I turned to face him, I noticed he had a grenade in his hands. Before he pulled the pin and threw the grenade at the soldiers, I grabbed his hand. When our eyes met, I shook my head.

"Don't do it. Let them go!" I whispered.

Ben released my hand and looked out from behind the bus stop. I knew for sure that if the soldiers turned in our direction, Ben would take them out. Unless I do it first. Fortunately, the soldiers turned the other way and went on their way.

"Wait for me here and don't go anywhere," Ben said unexpectedly, putting away the grenade.

"Where are you going?" I asked, wary that he hadn't abandoned his plan to kill the soldiers.

"Scouting," Ben explained and walked out from behind the bus stop.

Instead of following the soldiers, he ran towards the intersection, turned the corner, and disappeared from my sight. During the time Ben was away, I managed to have a snack and even fed a limping, scruffy stray dog that came up to the bus stop. As far as I could remember, I never liked dogs. But the mutt looked at me with such pitiful eyes that I simply didn't have the heart to drive it away. In an instant, after finishing the piece of bread I threw, the dog wagged its tail contentedly.

"Sorry, but there's no extra food," I decisively declared, finishing my own crackers.