The Wastelands: The Wastelands, #1

By Markus Lopez

When Ash wakes up in the destroyed and burning world, it's not just her memory that's missing. Mostly everyone is gone. Killed in their fight for survival against the flesh eating animal hordes.
And when an ominous and all-seeing voice puts her life on bounty for her past crimes, she has to team up with a rogue roup of survivors to find their way out  of the city and discover the truth about her past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BLACKHEARTED STORY STUDIO
• Release date: Jun 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386935155

Markus Lopez

Marcus Lopez is the pseudonym for Massiel Valenzuela-Castaneda. Massiel lives in the beautiful California country, with her pets and her family. She received her bachelor's degree in English and a degree in computer science. Although eternally an optimist, the dark horrors of her mind come out onto the page. If you like to know more about her, you can visit www.themassiel.com. Thanks and enjoy!

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Prologue

I'm trying to weave the car through traffic. My hands are sweaty, my heart is racing in my chest. I'm trying to swerve in and out, all the cars on the street seem to be getting closer and closer. I looked behind me, in the rearview mirror – the city in my view. Looking forward, I slammed on the brakes – almost hitting somebody in the middle of the street. They look at me with panic, but then they run. Around me, everyone is starting to run. They're getting out of their cars – making a dash for the nearest buildings, down the street. In my rearview mirror, I see the mushroom cloud hurling towards the sky. The earth had just cracked – a large earthquake rippling through the city.

I got my phone, and with shaky fingers, I tried to dial the number. It rings – but he doesn't pick up. Damn it!

I should've known. I should've seen this coming.

Then, all traffic comes to a stop.

I get out of the car, clutching my phone. I back up, leaving the car in the middle of the street just like everyone else is doing. They are all running from the mushroom cloud, it’s bright and orange as it soars into the sky. It looks like a painting, against the vast blueness of the sky around us. The pale blue makes the orange cloud look terrifying – and angry.

I'm out of time. There's no way that I can reach him.

Instead, I swipe my phone and dial my mom.

But the line is dead.

No – it can't be.

I’m calculating how long it would take me to get back to the house. From here, it felt like miles.

Suddenly, screaming erupts – and I turn my vision to the cloud.

It has exploded – and is crashing now towards the ground. The clouds are falling towards us, the angry orange roaring. I'm too late. I hear a squeal next to me. I turn to see a small girl, clutching a teddy bear – her eyes wide as saucers as she takes in the swirling clouds racing towards us. I can hear somebody yelling at her from inside the store behind her. The city block is getting swarmed by running people. And then I see it – all the way down the block. The clouds are rushing towards us.

Like a tsunami, the orange clouds barrel down the street, enveloping people as they try to run away. The orange is too thick to see what happens inside.

But I know that it's coming at us – maybe 100 miles per hour. I have only moments. I turned and grabbed the girl, pushing her inside the store – a woman, her arms out – envelops the girl into her embrace. I don't get a chance to say anything – but I run out of the store, as the mushroom clouds get closer.

It's only a block away.

People run and scream – they can sense it too. Whatever's inside there – it's not good. Suddenly, the earth splits down the middle of the street. And the ripple, sends me flying backward. Instead of hitting a wall, I feel myself falling – and then I hit the ground, and then again and again and again – I'm falling down some stairs.

I feel each slab of concrete – and when I finally hit the last step, I can barely make out the subway station signs above me. The earthquake sent me flying.

I can see the orange cloud, racing by the top of the stairs. I can hear the screaming.

My head is splitting. The roar of the orange cloud swallows the city. Everything crashes at once – I see my entire life flash before my eyes.

And then, darkness settles over my vision. And I can't help but think that this is all my fault.

1

Ialready know something 's wrong. The dirt and dust choke me. I cough and I bring my elbow to my mouth. I sit up, blinking away the dust and grime. Everything is blurry at first.

It's just a swirl of orange and yellow.

Only a few feet in front of me is visible.

Looking towards the sky, I search for the bright sun above us. It's somewhere in my memory, I know I've seen the sun before. I can recall it vividly.

But as I look around, I don't see anything that resembles the sky with its bright blazing ball and the blue-ness that's like the vast ocean.

There is a mix of black and orange clouds that looks like disappearing molten smoke. My throat hurts and I cough some more.

My fingertips touch plastic and when I look down, I find a face with goggle looking back at me. It’s a gas mask. It reminds me of the World War II masks, except this one has bright blue bulbs on the sides. And it looks sleek and modern.

Scrambling for it, I instinctively place it around my head.

There's nothing else attached to it. As soon as I slip it on, the air feels easier to manage. But I can’t see clearly throught the eye holes.

The air tastes like smoke.

When I get up, it feels like I had been lying for days. My body aches with stiffness. I look around but there's nothing and no one around me.

Where the hell am I?

A strange collision of memories hit me. It's like I'm remembering my past – the ocean, the sky, cities, and people without faces. But there are major things missing. I don't remember my name. I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t know what happened to this world—because I know it didn’t look like this before.

Who am I?

I wipe the dust from underneath the mask to clear my vision. Looking down, I realize I’m weighed down by layers of clothing.  I'm covered with jackets, shirts, and it feels like multiple pants underneath. The dust and grime is caked over my clothes, letting me know that I had been lying here for some time.

Scanning around me, I see I’m surrounded by small desert hills. The ground beneath me is sandy and cracked. The sky looks like it was ready to bleed. I get to my knees. Pain shoots through my arms and my legs. My whole body hurts. It feels like I fell a couple of stories.

Then I feel a stinging pain near my collarbone. I instinctively touch it, and my hand comes back with blood. I try to look down, to get a better look. I can barely make out a deep cut. I feel along the ridges.

It's a large gash starting from under my collarbone that goes up my neck and all the way through my cheek and ends at my nose. It doesn't sting too badly, but I can feel the edges of skin trying to piece themselves back together. This wound is pretty fresh.

I try an inhale, and my raw skin stretches with some pricks of pain.

There's a backpack at my feet. It’s covered in dust too. When I open it, I find some rags, a large rolled up tarp, and a phone. Its screen is black. It looks dead. I press the button but it doesn’t make a sound or turn on.

I take out one of the rags and try wrapping it around my open wound, shielding it from the dust. It covers some of it. I try an inhale again to see if it feels better but I end up coughing some more. I guess the mask can only do so much.

I sit there for a long time, looking around at the endless hills and not knowing what to do next.

I can’t just stand here. I have to move.

I'm not sure which direction to go. I can only guess.

I turn to the right. When I move  a few steps, I look back to my spot. My body has left an imprint on the ground. As the dust swirls around me, it reminds me of a crime scene. A shiver goes through me.

I shift the backpack on my back and secure the mask tighter around my head. It fits perfectly. I keep walking.

After a few minutes, I reach the top of a hill.

It was getting dark. But this was different.

I’m sure the sun was setting somewhere behind the clouds. The clouds swirled like lava with reds and orange mixing together. And it looked like it was getting darker, but the orange glow didn't fade. It swirled and hovered above me. As far as I could see, there was not a single piece of blue sky in sight.

When I finally tear my eyes off the sky, surveying the land before me – a silent scream catches in my throat.

A large city lies in front of me. Its buildings are charred and burned, and it's mostly in flames. It’s the only city I can see for miles.

It stood black in the orange horizon like a shadow. Left behind to burn. Billows of black smoke reaching up into the pulsing sky.

But that's not what fills me with terror.

Between me and the burning city, there's a mile of dry desert. At first, it looks occupied by a lake. A large shadow covers the ground.

The mile stretches in darkness.

But it’s bodies. Bodies on the ground.

They all face me, away from the city. Like they had been running.

Running, possibly, for their lives. But didn’t make it.

Jaws had fallen off and deteriorated on the desert floor. Eyes and teeth were missing. They must have died years ago.

Their dry skeletal heads aimed up in terror, towards the sky. The screams stuck in their throats. Their eye sockets looked up, towards the heavens. Some had outstretched hands, reaching for the hills. Others cradled together, their last moments clinging to their loved ones.

What happened here?

2

When I step forward onto the suburban walk, I can breathe relief. I finally passed by the last of the bodies.

Looing around, some nostalgia hits me. It's like I can see into the past. I can see memories, like shadows in my mind.

Kids playing in the streets – playing tag or throwing a ball. Husbands waving to their wives as they head off to work. Wives at the door, smiling – all primed and proper. This cul-de-sac, so neatly trimmed, looks like it’s straight from the 1950s – like this neighborhood was meant to give you the All-American feel.

I know its much later than that. But, I can’t tell what year it truly is.

It’s in stark contrast to the wasteland of bodies behind me. I held my breath while I walked past them. I was tense, for any moment they would reach up and tear me down to hell with them. I imagined they would come to life like all those zombie films. I thought of a million ways to get out of their grip. Kick their heads in, jump over them, keep my legs bound thickly with layers.

However, the bodies remained motionless and dehydrated.

But the look of terror on their faces seemed obvious even in death.

I only hear my feet on the pavement. Further down the street, there’s a black shadow on the ground—like a huge hole. I think I can hear something in there, some echos filtering outward. But I can’t place my finger on the noise. The air still smells like ash.

I feel out of place.

It's so strange, I know that I'm here – that this country exists here within the world, that there are cities, like San Francisco or Los Angeles –  there are cars and the Internet – I even remember Google. But, it's like everything specific about me is gone. I should have best friends and a mom and a dad.

My stomach twists, wondering how that could even be possible. I mean, if you lose your memory, isn’t it like an entire wipe of the memory? Like, how could I remember all those big things, but not anything that belonged to me.

The word amnesia enters my mind. Is it possible, does it work that way?

I feel like my mind is spinning. There’s no way I can get answers right now.

It only makes my head hurt more.

Walking further down the street, it looks still so intact – sure, the roofs of the houses are burned off – charred. But, it's like this place was frozen in time. Although there weren't any cars or any bodies, it seemed permanently picturesque.

I simply wander. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I take the mask on and off, careful to takes breaths of air to make sure it’s not deadly. For some reason, I thought the air would peel my skin off or worse, but I find it’s not that bad. I can breath in fact, but its easier with the mask on.

I hear a small crash, and I turn to face a blue house. It’s like the others.

There’s some shuffling inside—something grunts inside.

I