In my travels, I have made many friends. Few, however, I were willing to part with their homeland, for they considered the places they lived at homes. I could sympathize with that, but, in a way, I always envied them – saw them as having something I still searched for.
I recall asking one of them about it once. I asked, “What does it feel like, to know where your home is?” I can still remember what he told me. He said, “I recall a tale, I don’t know who had told it to me, or where that person had heard it. I don’t even know why I still think about it today. Perhaps it was my mother who had whispered it to me and its significance stems from that fact alone. Anyway, it’s a story about a musician, a wise man some might say, but a man that would play the same set of tones and their variations over and over. He would do this upon an instrument called the violin. He would play the same tunes for hours each day, never stopping, never even considering playing something else. This, his wife – ever the tolerant spouse – learned to accept. She enjoyed the playing of her husband. For years she kept quiet. For years she never complained, never whined, never uttered a single word. Until one day, she snapped. She said to her husband, “Darling, for the love of God, please, can’t you play something else? Other musicians compose symphonies, they make songs with a beginning and an end with all shades in between. Prologues, overtures and outros, why don’t you at least consider playing another tune?”
To which the husband looked at her and said simply, “They are still searching. I, on the other hand, have found it.”
I had since wondered if I would ever find it… Ever settle down and be at peace in any one land or place, or would I simply dwindle away in the wastes and remain Nomad forever?
In the eyes of this woman before me, although their color was not like my own, I could see the same desperate search. But is she searching for a home, or is she seeking something else? I aimed to find out. Perhaps her search could lead me to my own tune.
“Why are you even here?” I ask her. “Doing this?”
“My reasons are my own,” she snarls back. “I’m not even sure you’d understand.”
“We may be opportunists, girl,” Ty jumps in, “but we sure as merde aren’t stupid.”
She doesn’t answer at first and looks over a screen on her wrist-device. She then peers around the metal doorway carefully and then looks back, locks eyes with Ty. “If I’d have to judge your intelligence by sheer audacity, I’d say you’re both pretty damn stupid.”
“Audacity would seem a quality we all share,” I say.
“Enough of it to storm this place?” she asks, switching looks between me and Ty, all serious-like.
“What?” he asks her.
“There’s at least seven of them still inside, four of which I’m reading on my scanner,” she tells us, smacking the device with her hand. “A scanner about to run out of power, so I’ll ask again. How courageous are you, really?”
“I’d help if I knew why I should even do this,” I admit.
Ty gawks at me. “You aren’t seriously considering this?”
“Seriously considering? No. But I am considering it. There’s bound to be something useful in there.”
“Enough canned goods to last us a while,” she says. “Not to mention weapons the likes of which you probably haven’t even heard of.”
“And cards?” Ty enquires. “We can’t carry around piles of food now can we? And I know we sure as hell can’t stay here and expect no more of these idiots to show up.”
“There’s bound to be some cards,” she says.
“You’d say anything to lead us to our deaths, wouldn’t you?” Ty asks.
“We don’t even know your name,” I tell her. “A definite reason why we should do this eludes me still, I admit. Dying to prove myself to a stranger is not an inviting prospect either.”
She sighs and stands up straight, her gear whizzing as if tiny cogs lay hidden under the protective fibers of her suit. Her brown skin glints with sweat as she faces us, defiant, a murderous smile on her lips. “Calyx,” she says. “I am here to rescue my father.”
“Why keep your father in here?” I ask her.
“Probably a psychopath like her,” Ty spits.
She purses her lips and shots a glance at her wrist device. “Because he’s the only one who knows how these weapons work. They’re using him to arm themselves for an attack against the Templars.”
Ty snorts. “You practically decimated their numbers with a single minigun.”
“This is just one outpost, do you honestly believe these few men are all that remains of the military industrial complex?”
“Who are the Templars?” I ask. The name rang a bell, but I could not remember any specific stories about them.
“They orchestrated what is now knows as the Apocalypse. The Great Conflict. The End-War. Call it what you will,” she says. “But it’s generally well known that they were behind it all and now actively seek to further nullify human progress for reasons no one can quite understand.”
“And your father? How is he involved in all this?”
“He knows much, much more than he should, it seems,” she sighs. “They took him about a month ago and I managed to track him to this remote outpost. Why they would choose to keep him here is anyone’s guess, but I’m going in, with or without you two morons. Now hand me that energy weapon.”
“This one’s mine,” Ty says, without missing a beat.
She sighs and goes on behind us to try and scavenge another as Ty pulls me closer.
“I’ve reconsidered this, we should do it,” he murmurs.
“Considered how?” I ask him.
“If this place really does belong to the military, we’re definitely gonna find some sick shit in there.”
“And the prospect of getting killed?”
“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a concern, but–“
“You got swayed by the promise of loot,” I nod with smile. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I got your back, which means I’ll use you as a meatshield and, should you get shot, make sure to leave you and escape with all the good stuff.”
He flashes a grin and then laughs. “Deal.”
CHAPTER 7