Chapter 1: Dust Clouds

Marcus was tired, hot, but most of all thirsty. 

As Marcus sat down on a old wooden chair he looked out at his work, a half acre of tilled soil. He had been working since morning and is a little past noon judging by the sun. 

looking past the patch of dirt Marcus gazed at the vast expanse of wasteland in front of him. A mixture of desert and shrubland. The wasteland is relatively flat, sparse, and dry with the occasional gnarled cactus, stubby leafless tree, and the old road leading out of the settlement breaking up the monotony. 

Marcus takes out a half empty bottle of water and chugs the rest. The water, tasting of minerals and dirt, is extremely refreshing. Marcus sighs in relief as he puts the bottle away " Works done, better put the tools away".

Going to a shack nearby he puts the hoe, and shovel he was using on a wrack then walked to the house nearby. The house is a white two story building with a large porch. It's an old worn down prewar house renovated by the farmer who hired him Tom, and his family.

As Marcus makes his way to the house he spots Tom relaxing on his porch in a rocking chair, flanked by his guard that's eying Marcus down as he approaches. Tom is an older man in his late 30's and has a short brown beard with wavy hair down to his shoulders. While not the richest man in Dirt Mound he owns the only farmable land in the area, which is evident by the fact that Marcus doesn't see a single patch, or hole on Tom's clothing. 

"Finished first again Marcus? You know my offer still stands. Working full time comes with food and board." 

Marcus shrugs. 

"No thanks Tom, you pay me enough and I prefer to sleep inside the walls."

"Fine, fine here's your pay for the day."

Tom hands him 15 credits with an exasperated look and Marcus nods in thanks. Saying goodbye Marcus leaves and starts making his way back into the settlement.

"Should last me a few more days, better than washing dishes at the Hub, or hunting rad rats" Marcus thinks as he's walking. Looking at the walls Marcus thinks about how intimidating they looked when he was younger, tall and imposing. Now that he's older Marcus knows better. The wall is only two to three people tall, and is made of old turned over cars with scrap metal filling in the gaps. Still, it's better than nothing. With four or five guards manning the wall, and ten guards patrolling the streets, the chance of wildlife or vagrants causing trouble in town is slim.

The guard watching the gate sees him approach "Hey Marcus already done for today?".

"Yea, just heading inside now." "Alright man, have a good one." "You to Taz".

Heading inside Marcus starts walking to the Grub Hub for lunch. Dirt Mound is a small settlement with roughly 150 people living here, not including the traveling merchants and caravans that stop by once in awhile. The town consists of mostly prewar building with the occasional shack, and scrap building spread about. Though small, Dirt Mound has all the basic amenities for living in the wastes. A well, local made food, and a close proximity to a highway, insures that the local shops and bars are well stocked more often than not.

Arriving at the Grub Hub Marcus heads inside. The interior is a mix of a rundown bar and cafeteria rolled into one. As one of the only food places in the settlement, the Grub Hub serves most of the townsfolk outside of the fulltime farmhands in Toms place, and the mayor of Dirt Mound, Abe. Who supposedly has a home cook if rumor's are to be believed. There is only one meal in the Grub Hub. Made of vegetable's from Tom's farm, locally bred grub worms, and salt from a small salt flat to the south of town, the food is bland, but it will fill your stomach, and keep you going.

Marcus walks up the counter, gives two credits for a large bowl of grub, and takes a seat in a booth at the corner of the building. With music playing over an old radio, and only one loud argument happening somewhere behind him, Marcus finally relaxes. As he eats, the fatigue slowly leaves his body, and is replaced by soreness. After finishing his meal, Marcus leaves and starts making his way to the well for a refill.

Arriving at the well in the middle of Dirt Mound, Marcus uses the hand crank to pump up the water and fill his bottle then starts to head back to his shack that's on the east side of the settlement. As Marcus is walking down an alleyway two guy's block off the exit. 

They have haggard, and torn cloths covering their emaciated bodies. One has a pipe, while the other an old chain. 

"Heya punk, that there pouch of yours is lookin mighty heavy for ya. Hows about me and Fred here take it off your hands for ya?"

Marcus slowly backs away while taking out the most expensive thing he owns, an old knife with a cloth wrapping for a handle. He points it at the two thugs trying to look intimidating.

"Back off! Try to take my stuff, and you'll lose more than a few fingers!" 

They both look at Marcus and laugh to them selves before the left one steps forward with a grin on his face.

"How about you gives us all you got before I smash your skull in you fucki-"

"HEY, WHATS GOING ON OVER THERE?"

A familiar guard starts walking down the alley way from the direction Marcus came from. Wearing an armored vest, with a revolver on his hip and a baton in his hand, he approaches the two goons.

"How about you both walk away before I smash YOUR skulls in eh? If I see you two walking around accosting people again, I'll have you both thrown outa Dirt Mound!"

The two men look at each other before turning around and scampering off muttering to themselves. Marcus puts away his knife, and turns to look at the guard.

"Thanks for the help Mick, but I coulda handled it my self."

"Handled it?!"

"Marcus I think you tend to forget, but your only 14 years old. They were almost three heads taller than you, and there were two of them. I know you've go a lotta gumption for your age, and your already working for a living, but that doesn't mean you can 'handle' everything yourself."

As Mick drones on, and on Marcus looks at him. Mick is about 6'1, broad shouldered, and toned muscle. Mick is well fed, and taken care of as a guard for Dirt Mound. Marcus looked away and rolled his eyes, trying to tell himself he wasn't envious.

Mick see's that he's losing Marcus's attention and sighs. Mick kneels down to Marcus's eye level and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Look kid, you don't have to live in a shack on the outskirts of town, working yourself to the bone in Tom's farm to make ends meet. Me and Alice thought about it, and we want to offer you a room in our place to stay. You'll get homemade food, a real bed to sleep in, and you won't have to worry about getting jumped on your way home by some drug addicted thugs."

Seeing the look of genuine concern on Micks face made Marcus hesitate. Ultimately Marcus steps back and shakes his head.

"Thanks for the offer Mick, but I'll be fine, really. I've just about stashed away a hundred credits for supplies, and a ride on one of the roving caravans only twenty more. I'm tired of living in this boring, small patch of dirt in the middle of nowhere."

"Marcus the wasteland might sound interesting, but its not. Nothing is out there but a hellscape of misery and terror! If the wildlife doesn't kill you people will! You may not realize it, but 'boring' is a luxury not many can afford."

Mick sighs again "Just think about my offer before you run off to who knows where."

As Mick turns to walk away he suddenly comes to a halt. His face turns pale with a look Marcus has never seen him make. A look of terror.

Marcus walks by him to see what he's looking at. 

Past the wall, past Toms farm, off in the distance a dust cloud is growing on the horizon.

Marcus hears Mick mutter under his breath "Oh no".

A Siren starts to blare.

And all hell breaks loose.