04 - The Wasteland

Scarred and hurting, I managed to lift myself up. There I was, standing wounded and bleeding in a scorching plain of nothing. Wherever I looked, the air was waving and trembling underneath the severe heat. While I was passed out, my body had apparently been sweating intensely, since I immediately felt my legs and back dripping wet as I got off the ground.
I could barely even hold myself upright. My knees shook and cried out grunts of pain. But I couldn’t fall down now.

Just turning my neck emphasised the burns on my face and shoulder. Feeling the cold wind brush over them felt refreshing. It was almost like a pack of ice on a wound, heavenly in the moment, but there was still the wound.

Carefully, I tried pushing my legs ever gradually to start moving. The muscles in my thighs contracted, which again sent shivers of pain down my nerves. But my physical body slowly recollected, and I managed to push myself forward.

Upon my first step, I realised the ground beneath my feet wasn’t as solid as rocks, yet neither was it a bank of sand. The texture felt weird, off.
Even the landscapes around me felt unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was completely different from the terrains around Cratos, which were much more solid and rugged. Here and there, a plant poked its head out of the ground. Some were blossoming carefully near the ground, while others appeared more generously. A grand tree amidst fields of nothing especially stood out to me.

It’s just a fucked up place here I told myself as I continued my march towards the wreckage.

Despite wanting to fall to the ground, fall asleep, or simply do both simultaneously, I managed to drag my scarred body over to the first pieces of metal debris.
There appeared to be nobody left, at least, I didn’t think there was anyone anymore.
But what about those riders then? Did they just forget about me? They couldn’t just leave someone behind, right?
My mind started to come up with all sorts of explanations and possibilities, none of which helping for my current state of being. And right as I felt tears watering up in my eyes, I snapped myself back to the moment.

No I thought to myself. This is not where it ends.
I looked back over the stretches in front of me, trying to remember where I saw the people come from and go. In front of me, I noticed a hill, where I thought to have seen the riders flee up. There was a large stretch of sand, or rock, on my right, occasionally broken by a spike or another weird appearance in the land.
This is where they came from
My eyes tracked the horizon, but I didn’t see or hear anything. Other than the occasional gust of wind, floating some sparse leaves or plants, it was quiet. It was completely quiet.

I took a deep breath and faced my current situation once more. My feet also started moving me ever closer to the remainder of the cruiser. Along the way, I stumbled over some charred suitcases, luxury seats, and metal doors more than once. From time to time I even saw some animals shoot through the debris, though I hadn’t familiarised myself enough to know what they were.

By the time I had dragged myself over to the backside of the last carriage, my legs were killing me even more than the heat was at this point. And just a slice of shade behind the crashed cruiser was enough for my body to take rest here.
At this point, my throat started to ache. A small cough set up, likely due to the lack of water.
Maybe I should search the debris and luggage for drinks? Would that still be there
The thought of it had surfaced, though I didn’t know if there would be anything left after the impact made.

For a moment, I rested my eyes. My body peacefully leaned back towards the wagon, but immediately burnt painfully when it met the metal. Almost impulse-like, my head shot forward again and everything in me twitched as it shot awake again.
Have I not suffered enough?

Despite the shade only covering a tiny line and the cruiser being untouchable at this point, I managed to find some rest. However, the fact that I rested my legs made it ever harder to get them up and moving again.
But I needed to look for stuff, I needed to survive now I guess.

Sharp pains shot down my legs with each step. Every time my soles hit the ground, it felt like I had been walking for a week. My face still burnt, but in the moment, all my attention got sucked away to my legs.

I crossed another couple more bits and pieces of debris. Nearing the front of the last carriage it started to really ramp up. It seemed so unnatural, so unreal. The cruiser that arrived so broadly, powerful in Cratos, now chopped up and spread out all over the ground.

Soon, I came to the conclusion that checking leftover luggage should only be reserved for promising finds. It took a lot of effort—and a lot of stretching burn marks—to bend over and search a case.
I slowly wandered next to the fallen carriages, still covered by the burning sun that marked about midday. This meant there were no shadows to be found. The cruiser’s shadow fell straight down for the most part, leaving only the tiniest of strips I could never fit into. The tree I had spotted earlier was merely a maze of branches, with only little room for leaves. And the rock formations every now and then didn’t stick out far enough to create a space to rest.
The realisation hit me. If I don’t find water now, I might just die here.

I crawled and searched, turning around a couple of briefcases here and there. I even stumbled upon a metal box, with nothing inside—why would anyone bring that?
But eventually, as my hands hit another burnt, pink suitcase, I opened to find a jackpot. There wasn’t much, this person was apparently just going for a quick trip. But fortunately for me, they did pack a bottle of something that looked like nothing I had ever seen. It must have been another wasteland thing. I didn’t put any thought into it. Before I knew it, the bottle was sealed against my lips, and the greenish liquid was flowing into my lungs.

The first couple of sips, I couldn’t even taste the flavour. It was merely a refresher—something to drink. But as I found myself facing the sun, with only the bottle between us, my throat started protesting ever slightly.
My muscles contracted again, and I quickly jerked the bottle away from my mouth, leaving me blinded by the sun again.
Annoyed, I turned my neck down to read the label.

As I tried to focus, the silence came back to me. But it didn’t last long until it got disrupted again.

“ALCOHOLIC?! Who the fuck brings stuff like this across the actual–Wastelands!”

I followed my external crash out with an angry grunt before smashing the bottle to the ground.
There has to be something else

I continued looking and searching, turning debris and briefcases up and down. I even considered moving into one of the carriages that was still standing somewhat upright.
There were no rails anymore, though an elevated strip rock still held this carriage upright. The door was open—windows smashed. I was hesitant at first, gently approaching the cabin, prepared to walk away or fight if I really had to.
Despite my horns being about the worst tools for combat, I aimed them for the unlit cabin in front of me.
As I arrived at the entrance, I still heard nothing. It was dead quiet.
I peeked my head inside, cautious to avoid touching any of the metal on the outside. I saw another staircase first, but this one was broken by the impact. It didn’t reach further than the first level. I didn’t have the intention to climb any stairs right now anyways.
My head shot over to the other side of the entrance. The movement highlighted my burning neck once more, but this time, I didn’t actually care.
I was hoping to spot a bathroom, or some form of sink that could maybe still have running water. But unfortunately, it was empty—bad luck.

I stepped in, relieved by the shade, and immediately wandered down to the bottommost level.
The thought of spending some time in the carriage—maybe getting some sleep—crossed my mind. And as I moved through a mostly shaded carriage, I started to like this idea more and more.

When I arrived down the small steps, leading me down into the seating area, I immediately noticed the wall on the other side had been completely torn down. A big hole in the wall—if you could even still call it that—caused most of the chairs to have been flung outside. I checked for luggage, or anything else, but only saw a few cases scattered around where the seats were also laying.
I wanted to sleep again so badly. I wanted to get comfortable in a chair and zone out. By the time I would wake up, maybe it was dark again. Maybe I could then venture out and search everything.
But on the other hand, my throat was still aching—hungry for some water. And I could very well die in my sleep.
I was standing in the empty carriage hallway, my head flickering over to the seats on one side, and back again to the luggage outside. Eventually, I bit the bullet, and approached the edge.

Just being in the sun again was so uncomfortable. It was bad the first time around, but coming from a safe haven of shade, it was at least twice as bad.
I leaped from the carriage. It almost felt like I broke my legs with that jump—but they seemed to still function properly enough to fulfil my quest.
I approached the first bag I could find, a big one. The outside was black, and covered in a texture that felt weird for a bag. It wasn’t smooth, but it rather seemed like there were all these tiny little dots around.
I brushed my hand up to the zipper, and rolled it down all the way. It was one of those big ones where you could lift half the bag and open it as if you would open a book. I collected all the strength in me, but eventually managed to lift one half up over the other.
It crashed down onto the ground with a loud thud. And right as I started to focus on the contents of the bag, a deep voice spoke.

“Dangerous place to be looting all by yourself”