The Master of the Blood Desert: The Wasteland Saga - Volume 1

By Philipp Schmidt

A new world. A world full of danger, in which only the strong survive, in which pimped out vehicles whiz through an endless desert, and a world in which magic has returned. The old order is broken. A mysterious people has reconquered the earth and smashed the former civilizations - as long as they have not ruined themselves in the process. In the Wasteland, survivors have founded new societies with their own rules and laws. A hostile, desolate land, roaming with bounty hunters, nightmarish creatures and outlaws, who are always in search of an easy prey or quick cash. Hank, called the Wanderer, is one of them. An outcast, a legend, a man trying to be stronger than the merciless desert. Actually, he just wants to complete a shady job, collect the reward and move on. But it does not go according to plan. Young Bohdan crosses his path and an adventurous journey begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jul 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781547574469

Book preview

The Master of the Blood Desert

The Wasteland Saga Volume 1

By

Philipp Schmidt

Imprint

Copyright © 2017 Philipp Schmidt

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2017 Cover By Simon Fleck

Copyright © Karte By Lukas Mathiaschek

Copyright © der Serie Die Ödland-Saga Philipp Schmidt

The Master of the Blood Desert By © Philipp Schmidt

Edtior: Michael Raffel

In Cooperation with Writers on the Wallside

Prologue

The chaos theory. Everyone knows the theoretical possibility that the flap of a butterfly’s wings could trigger a devastating storm on the opposite side of the Earth.

This here is also the story of a storm... except three singular events preceded it. Three things that set off the change. Three decisions that have changed the world forever.

Maybe the three occasions were not completely singular. If anything, there was a relationship that the narrator of this story does not know. The fact is that each of the three individual occurrences unfolded at the exact same time, making a pure accident improbable. For now we will call this just cosmic karma. Definitely not divine providence. There is no room for a God in the following story, and certainly not for a good one whose creations are so near and dear to his heart.

The following occurred on the 31st of October in the year 2025 of the old calendar.

The Edge’s Edge

Precisely 347,003 seconds ago the last of the Voyager’s scientific instruments were deactivated. The radionuclide batteries were dead. No more signals could be sent to Earth. The orbiter was left to fend for itself. Shot into space in 1977, the cord connecting the parabolic antennas was severed. A senseless and stupid thing, unrestrained, pure momentum with a constant velocity of 60,000 kilometers per hour. After passing through the heliosphere, the orbiter shot through the so called interstellar medium.

The distance to the earth amount to 166 astronomical units and nothing worth mentioning should have occurred during the next 38,000 years but suddenly, and completely unexpected, something happened. The orbiter encountered a resistance that slowed it down. The speed dipped. At first slowly but it became increasingly notable. Eventually, like a needle thrusted into a balloon, something burst. No, not something, everything burst. Space, time. Physics flipped inside out. Matter turned to antimatter. Including even where the Voyager 1 had been. The orbiter, along with its gold-covered copper record player with the name Sounds of the Earth, built in case of extraterrestrial contact, ceased to exist. It had pushed to the limit and pierced a hole in the fabric of existence.

Devolution

Doctor Adriane Foster stared at the graphics the quantum calculator had just spit out. She could not make sense of it all. Here it was. The breakthrough she has so long been working towards. But now, the complex geometric pattern confirming her hypothesis, she was in disbelief. There would be a fundamental shift in the world. Age, sickness, and even death itself, were vanquished. The intelligent, reproducible nanobots she and her team developed were stable. The current analyses referred to the test series Theta-16-S/2. They were a few meters meters away from her in an air-sealed micro laboratory. Doctor Foster was alone. The rest of her 6 person team took off work hours ago. The project leader, professor Rosenbaum, had been gone for days to scrape up funds and to win over sponsors. Foster knew she should call him, but something held her back from doing so. A voice deep down inside her. At first the voice told her she had worked harder than the others combined. She was the one still here after all. But the voice whispered something else softly. A thought took shape in her head. An extremely bold idea. But didn’t her boldness, her iron will, her ability to think beyond the imaginable, bring her to this point in the first place? Without a doubt. Why not be a little egotistical just this once and do something for her own benefit?

She checked two more times with the data. The codes were perfect – she found them elegant. What is so beautiful about numbers and formulas? Her finance often asked her. It was a running joke between them when the language of her work came up. She would in turn tease him about his artistic side and at the end they would make love passionately. Richard was a good man, the best. They met when she was 37. She had withheld it from him as they got to know each other. He was understanding on the night she confessed, but she saw the sadness in his eyes, the disappointment. How often she has had to endure this look since then, let alone the lonely hours when she cursed her body. She had the power to change it. She had the keys at her disposal to bypass every safety concern. She glanced over to the laboratory. She would have to cover her tracks. She would manage that, though. The shocking result would not be damaged if she let it appear like underdeveloped material similar to in the series of tests before. There would plenty of stable ones left over. With her fingers on the holographic keyboard, ready to make the proper adjustments, she imagined how she would surprise Richard in his studio. She would hug him and kiss him for the first time as a complete woman.

Were there risks that she should have considered? Oh, there were always risks! Approval for the Nanobots was still years, if not decades, away. An endless amount of tests still had to be conducted. First on animals then on humans under laboratory conditions. After that all of the bureaucratic and legal entities. The global ethics committee would have a few harsh words. The pharmaceutical lobbyists and companies would do everything possible to hinder their progress. And her? In the meantime she would get older. By itself that did not play a role. The little devils could make her body young again. But . . . but wait years on end? What if she or Richard would die because of some silly accident? She will not have such easy access when the professor and the team find about her success. The decision was made. She had the right and the means to go forward with the change and no one could prevent her. Doctor Foster confirmed the last order and watched as an electronic arm opened the locker. Cooling fog leaked out. She stood up and went to the lab door. It took only a moment for the retinal scanner to allow her access and the door to open slowly. The cold welcomed her into the sterile room. Shivering she leaned down to the locker. 

The Girl and the Mirror

Silently and swiftly the suspension rail blew closely past her window. Naomi hoped every time that it would crash . . . that it would break off and crash through her small window. But it never happened. Suppressing the tears she squeezed the toy monkey tightly to her chest. This stuffed animal was the only thing left over from her parents. Masked men in black uniforms killed her mom and dad because they dedicated themselves in protecting the environment. Naomi had been there and was forced to watch as the shots rang off without warning. She had clung onto her mother, bit and fought back furiously, but in the end the men were too strong. They carried her off and locked her away. The teachers called it an orphanage but Naomi knew better. It was a prison. They feared see could follow in her parents’ footsteps. Their fears were justified. If given the chance she would mercilessly take revenge. She saw through the daily lies told to her during her lessons. Her father had explained everything. The government was corrupt. In reality it was actually the profit hungry corporations pulling the strings. No one thought to protect that which was once pure and good. Mother Nature, her mom told her, was on her deathbed. She needs someone to safeguard her, to stand up for her, to rescue her. Naomi wished that someone else had tried. The small group her parents began stood not a chance against the money and power of those they chose to tangle with. And now she was alone, endlessly alone.

Naaaa-ooo-mii.

Who whispered her name? Trepidatiously Naomi looked around her empty room. No one was there.

Naaaa-ooo-mii. I’mm riiight heeere

She rose cautiously out of bed and got down onto her knees to a mirror leaning against the wall. The voice seemed to be speaking to her from this. Hello? she asked meekly. Her reflection showed a miserable sight. It was so sad she even felt sorry for herself. She was on the brink of bursting out into tears. But she pulled herself together. Hello? She whispered again, "Is someone there?

Ahhh yesss, the voice answered, I aam verrry clooose.

Who are you? Naomi asked as she pressed the monkey closer to her chest.

I am like youuu. Banished, locked away and sooo lonleyyy.

Naomi trembled. Who was that? Alongside her face was another, foggy and unclear, but undoubtedly there. It was pale with long white hair, its ears lengthy and pointed, its eyes yellow like those of a predator.

Dooon’t be afraiiid, Naa-ooo-mii. I am a friend. The face in the mirror gave a suggestive smile. Help me, sweet Naaa-oooo-mii. Then I’lll help youuu.

Naomi felt her hair begin to prickle. The sweeping voice had something enticing to it, lulling. What did she have to lose? She got her courage up and asked, "How should I help you?

It’s verrrry easy, murmured the being behind the mirror, you just need to invite me in and give me your hand.

What will happen then?

Then I am freeee and we arrre together, notttt alone anymoree. A laugh, reminiscent of wooden chimes, was distinguishable. She contemplated. Why not? Her situation could not possibly worsen. Maybe that was just a fantasy, a dream. She could be laying on her bed sleeping. She smiled sadly.

Well, okay. I invite you in. Naomi reached out her hand, but nothing happened.

You need to address me by name, sweet naaa-ooo-mii, whispered the voice.

Okay fine, Naomi, slowly becoming impatient, agreed. What an odd dream. What’s your name then?

Nagaaashuuuuu. the creature behind the mirror replied. Naomi had the impression that its facial features become sharpened.

Not a problem, she said casually, trying to quench her fear. I’d like to invite you into this world, Nagashu.

Her outstretched hand quivered. She wanted to pull it back when she suddenly felt a cold, hard touch. She filled with fear. Something jerked violently on her. She had to grasp onto the bed post to prevent being dragged into the mirror. The tug got stronger. She feared that her arm would pop out of the socket. There was an unexpected jolt and the mirror shattered into a thousand shards. Naomi laid with her back on the floor while a swaying, high figure loomed before her.

Lots to do, sweet naa-ooo-miii, no time to lay around and be lazy, the voice, now more deeply, and with a slight sneer, said. The being from the mirror in turn presented her his hand. Naomi hesitated briefly, then took the porcelain white, long-fingered, cool hand into hers.

Chapter 1

Year 15 of the new calendar. . .

Running was not one of his strengths. But the little man took to his heels as if the Devil were behind him. It was not the Devil pursuing him, but perhaps something worse: at least a dozen Urkwarda, commonly known also as head collectors. They were very pissed off, and the thunder from their horses’ hooves on the steppe inched closer. If he only had his motorcycle with him! But they got that from him already. . . although they were too stupid or vain to use it. The Urkwarda were a strange bunch of desert rats who enjoyed playing Indians and colored their skin red to do so. To hell with those bags of dirt, thought the little man, as he looked over to the bigger man also running. This bastard was the reason for all of this. He had been warned about him but, back then, he was not interested in listening. The prospect of quick cash had been far too tantalizing.

Steadily the thundering hooves neared, the sun burned down relentlessly and the sweat flowed in streams over his face. But their place was in sight. Not even five hundred meters ahead there were three motionless figures stood behind the tracks which marked the border. No Urkwarda would cross those. Behind that was the land of the