ALONE AND FORSAKEN

DEACON WALKED ALONG the road, headed back toward the New Valley border. Amber’s voice popped into his head. What are you going to do after New Valley? As unfair as he knew it was, a part of him had hoped that Silas would abandon his quest for Limbys. He had finally found someone he could trust. Someone he considered a friend. But now Silas was gone.

He thought about Laney and Amber. About how things could have been different. Should he have trusted the hitchhiker? He tried to picture the man lying on the ground. The handle of a gun had poked out of his jacket. He had reached for the gun. Deacon was sure of it. Or had he made that part up?

Maybe Laney was right. The world wasn’t against him. It was a lesson she wanted Amber to learn. The world is not against us. Laney would repeat it over and over to mold the girl into a trusting woman. Someone who could cooperate with others to survive.

Against his better judgment, Deacon had chosen to trust three strangers, and as a result, he had made three friends. He had acquired a car and made it to New Valley. All proof that Laney was right. People were stronger when they worked together. It all came down to trust. But then there was Joe and Randall. People who clashed with Laney’s vision. Silas had convinced Deacon to trust Randall. It was a choice that almost got both of them killed.

And then before the war, there was his wife, Genna, who had broken his heart and stolen his little girl.

The world may not be against us, Laney, but it sure as hell feels like it.

A shuffling sound interrupted his thoughts. He turned his head and saw nothing but an empty alleyway. Now more alert, he continued to walk, peeking around every corner as he passed. Another sound came from behind. He spun around, sliding his hand to his gun. Again, there was nothing. Just the empty streets of New Valley. An abandoned battlefield. A barren ghost town.

He moved his hand from his gun to his pocket and felt the smooth plastic surface of the homemade EMP. He pulled it out and held it up. A part of him hoped a clunker would reveal itself to confirm that he wasn’t going crazy. He waited with his arm extended, ready to zap whatever came out, but nothing came. He lowered his arm and turned back around, relieved and a little disappointed. He meandered forward, letting his arms sway back and forth like pendulums. Maybe he was going crazy.

He thought about his life before meeting Silas. The agonizing boredom of every hour. Every day. Every week. He would go months without seeing a single person. After a week, he would start talking to himself, and after a month he would hate his own voice.

He had called it boredom, but he knew it was something else. It was something he hated to admit, but he knew was true. It had started the day Genna left. The day she took his child away. He was good at faking a cheery facade, slapping a wide smile on his face and spitting out silly jokes, but behind that smile was loneliness.

Loneliness. The feeling of being empty inside, like a black hole was sucking away his guts and turning him into an empty shell. The desperate yearning for companionship that would never come.

And then Silas showed up.

Of everyone left in the world, the one person who had sparked a connection was not a person at all. For some perplexing reason, a simmi was the one thing he could trust. But now Silas was gone. He had left in search of something better. Just like Laney and Amber. Just like everyone else in his life.

He pictured himself back in the car, zooming down Route 66 on a good old-fashioned road trip. He imagined the sound of the motor. The smell of the desert breeze. The view of mountains in the distance. Laney and Amber asleep in the back. Silas by his side. He desperately wanted to relive that moment.

Another sound interrupted his thoughts, this time from up ahead. He slowed his pace and tightened his grip on the EMP, sliding his thumb over the button. It sounded like metal scraping on concrete and had come from one of the alleys to the left. He heard it again from the right.

Someone was there. He was sure of it. He walked a little faster, hoping to find the border soon. The less time spent in New Valley, the better. His heart raced as he marched forward. The sound was growing. Whatever was there was getting close. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, and the summer sun felt ten degrees hotter.

The name of a hardware store caught Deacon’s eye. The sign out front held the friendly franchised face of the Happy Hardware mascot. The life-sized cutout of the gun-slinging cowboy was propped against the entrance. Next to the cutout, emerging from the doorway, a clunker stepped out. There was a familiar red stripe stretched across his chest.

Deacon jumped into a full sprint, keeping his head down and his eyes forward. He didn’t dare look back as he hopped over cars and weaved between rubble. Behind him, the sound of thumping feet drew closer. One set of feet turned into two, and then three shortly after. At least three clunkers. There were probably more, but the trampling rhythm was too hectic to keep track.

To his right, another clunker emerged, reaching out to grab his arm. Deacon squeezed his sweaty palm around the EMP and jabbed it toward the clunker’s hand, mashing the button with his thumb. The clunker fell, tumbling to the side of the road and lying limp on the curb.

“Screw this,” a clunker voice said, followed by the sound of a gun being drawn.

“No, idiot,” another voice commanded. “We want him alive.”

A hand swiped at Deacon’s foot, clipping the edge of his heel. He stumbled forward but managed to recover, pushing himself to run even faster. Sweat poured down his face, and his heart felt like it was going to burst. Another hand caught his ankle, this time sending him to the ground. A cry of pain left his mouth as he skidded across the pavement, tearing up the skin on his forearms.

He scrambled back to his feet, but a clunker grabbed his leg and pulled him back down. It was a wide-framed clunker with sharp cheeks and glowing red eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere, fleshball,” the clunker said, reaching with its other hand to pull him in closer.

Deacon jammed his foot into the clunker’s hand, but its grip only tightened.

It spoke again, this time looking into Deacon’s eyes. “Nice try, but you’re coming with us.”

Deacon stared right back at the glowing eyes. “The hell I am,” he grunted. He spit in the clunker’s face and jammed the EMP into its chest.

The clunker’s body went limp, falling on top of Deacon and pinning him to the ground. With the incredible weight of the metal armor, he could barely move at all. He could twist his wrists. Wiggle his feet. Turn his head. But nothing more.

Another clunker stepped into sight. Then another. And one more. The third one was Red Stripe.

Red Stripe kneeled by Deacon’s head, meeting his eyes. “That’s right, fleshball. The hell you are.” He moved in closer and mimicked the sound of spit.

Deacon reached for the EMP, which had fallen out of his hand. Red Stripe kicked the device away and signaled to the others. “You, retrieve Caleb’s body. This thing may have knocked him out, but he’ll be up again soon. Same with Joshua.” He tapped on the back of the clunker who had fallen on Deacon. “I’ve seen simmi weapons like this before. This one is poorly made, and from the looks of it, not very powerful. Shouldn’t last more than a half hour.”

“Just get this over with and kill me,” Deacon said. He had stopped struggling.

“So eager to die. Well, don’t worry. You’ll get your wish soon enough.”

Deacon said nothing more. He shut up and let the clunkers take him.

What are you going to do after New Valley?

Apparently, the world had decided for him. His fate was death. He had lost everyone important in his life. Silas was gone. Laney and Amber were gone. Genna and his lovely daughter, Dana, were gone. Now, he was sentenced to die. Alone and forsaken.