Metal and Ash (Apex Trilogy) (13 page)

“It was my first guess,” the Rookie nodded.

“Well, it is a good guess,” the Mayor grinned. “No space or resources for a jail here. Minor issues are dealt with quickly and everyone moves on. More than minor? You get to be bait. If you survive your sentence then you are brought in and never stray again.” The Mayor pulled the Rookie back and locked eyes. “And believe me, after a day and night on the wall, no one ever strays again.”

“And the major crimes? They get to stay there until they die?”

“Some do,” the Mayor shrugged as he leaned the Rookie back over and they both watched the masses of undead below continuously stumble and trudge along. “If it is warranted. We aren’t evil here, Dog. If a person truly repents and has the courage to stay alive for several days, then they may be given a second chance. There is never a third chance.”

“So what are the mechanics like? What makes it go?” the Rookie asked thinking Jay would have been in mechanic heaven to see what was under the deaders.

“Simple treadmills, hooked up to hundreds of generators spaced throughout Eden’s walls,” the Mayor smiled. “Day or night the deaders never stop moving. The bait is just out of reach, keeping them in a perpetual chase for food.”

The Rookie watched the thousands of undead far below. “Where do they all come from? I haven’t seen that many since the city/states fell.”

“I do have to say that their numbers have been increasing lately,” the Mayor frowned. “It has put some stress on the treadmills. My repair crews have been working hard to keep up.”

“They go out there?” the Rookie asked. “Into that hell?”

“We have ways of isolating the treadmills when needed,” the Mayor said, but didn’t elaborate.

“Okay, I have to say that is something to see down there,” the Rookie said. “But it doesn’t justify what’s in here?”

“And what is that, Dog?”

“Rookie,” the Rookie said. “Dog isn’t my name anymore.”

“We don’t choose our names, boy,” the Mayor said. “They are chosen for us.”

“Exactly,” the Rookie smirked. “And the Rookie was chosen for me. No more Dog. He died in a cage.”

“I believe the Razor died in a cage,” the Mayor said, but gave a slight bow. “Of course...Rookie. Would you like to meet some of the people? Maybe your opinion of me and Eden will change.”

“Always worth a shot,” the Rookie said.

***

Jenny awoke to nothing but aches and pains and sighed with exhaustion. She’d dug the mech into the earth, trying to give herself a little cover while she figured out how to get through the wall to the Rookie. The night wasn’t filled with sleep and relaxation; just nervous tension and fear as groups of deaders lumbered past her location on their way to the dangling food that lined the wall of Eden.

“Pain in my ass literally,” she said as she stretched in the cramped mech cockpit. “I’m going to beat the shit out of that boy when I see him.” Her heart stung and she knew she’d more than likely kiss the Rookie to death when she saw him again. She barely had made it through the loss of her father and she couldn’t imagine losing the Rookie too.

She powered up her systems and did a quick run through. Everything was operational and good to go.

Not that she was.

She still hadn’t come up with a plan other than rushing the wall. And as she studied the firepower that guarded the wall, she doubted she’d get within a hundred yards before being torn to pieces.

And she couldn’t just walk in. Even if she did make it past the never ending pilgrimage of deaders, she would need to deal with the thousands already at the wall. She was a tiny morsel of food on the dinner plate that was the wasteland.

The thought of food made her stomach growl and she checked the bins in the cockpit. Reality slapped her in her face and she quickly realized that the luxury of waiting around wasn’t there. She had maybe a day’s worth of food and water. Somebody on her train was going to get their ass kicked for not keeping the mech stocked as ordered.

So a day, she thought. Great. Just great.

***

“Is it now?” the Mayor mused as he listened to the words that were whispered in his ear. “But still in its previous position? Good. Alert me if it decides to make a move.”

The man nodded and scurried away from the Mayor, leaving him to his lunch with the Rookie and his dozen or so wives.

“Trouble in paradise?” the Rookie asked.

“Not for me, no,” the Mayor said. “But possibly for you. Just getting an update on the mech that followed you here from the Railer train.”

“Mech?” the Rookie asked, nearly choking on the food that was being fed to him by one of the wives. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am sure technically you don’t,” the Mayor said. “After all you were being held captive and transported across the wasteland. I am sure you did not know you were being pursued.” The Mayor waved the wife away and the woman stopped feeding the Rookie. He smiled broadly, but the grin didn’t meet his eyes. “But you do know what that mech is and I am sure you know the man piloting it.”

The Rookie laughed. “Man? I wouldn’t have a clue what man is in that mech. That is the honest truth right there.”

“He isn’t lying,” the wife seated directly to the Mayor’s right said. “You can tell easily when this one lies. He’s not very good at it.”

“Oh, I know!” one of the other wives said. “It isn’t a man, it’s a woman in the mech! It’s like a riddle!” She looked eagerly at the Rookie. “Was it a riddle? Did I get it right?”

“A woman,” the Mayor said. “Of course it would be.” The Mayor shook his head. “The outside likes to play with the fire that is woman. The outside gives into their emotions and bends to their will.”

“But the will of man presides over Eden,” the wives said in unison. “For the safety and sanity of us all.”

“Do they do tricks too?” the Rookie asked. “Jump through hoops of fire?”

“They know that we each have our place,” the Mayor said. “None are less than others, just different. Place is home and home is safe if everyone knows their place.”

The wives all nodded.

“Well, good thing then,” the Rookie snorted. “I was beginning to think this place ran on happy juice. Glad to know it’s just good old fashioned conditioning and wasteland mindfuckery.”

“That tongue,” the Mayor snapped, getting up quickly. He stalked over to the Rookie and took him by the chin. “Your father had a mouth like that. Look where it got him.”

“It wasn’t his mouth,” the Rookie said as he jerked his face away. “That did him in. It was the fact he was a complete psychopathic rapist and killer. Not a good combo for long term survival.” The wives all hissed at the Rookie. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Rape is an invitation to the wall,” the Mayor said as he retook his seat. “No woman must give up her womb to no man without him having won it. Forced intercourse is the lowest of shames.”

“Let me get this straight,” the Rookie smiled. “You lock all of your women that aren’t wives-.”

“Slits,” the Right Hand Wife said. “They are not women until they are wives.”

“-slits, excuse me,” the Rookie nodded, knowing where quite a bit of the power at the table lay. “You lock up the slits in a maze that young men have to fight their way through. Then they claim a slit and free her so she can then become a wife whose sole purpose is to fuck and pop out some boy kids? About right?” The Rookie laughed and shook his head. “Nope. Not rape at all.”

“Your prejudice blinds you,” the Mayor said. “We may have to open your eyes. My darlings?”

The wives all stood. Those closest to the Rookie pulled him to his feet and shoved him towards the door.

“My boy, you are about to get an education in who holds the power here,” the Mayor said. “If you think the slits are penned up like animals waiting to be chosen and saved then you are very, very wrong.”

***

“How old are they?” the Rookie asked, completely floored by the scene in front of him. “Those two can’t be more than eight or nine.”

“They come to the Training Grounds on their sixth birthday,” Right Hand Wife said. “It is a day of great celebration for each young slit.”

“And you fight them against each other?” the Rookie asked as he stood above a small arena, as a crowd lined the seats below, cheering the two girls on that were locked in combat. “Strongest move on?”

“No, no,” the Mayor said. “They are trained. Look closely. Those weapons are not fine edged. They will hurt on impact, but will not kill or maim. Slits are valuable. Slits lead to wives which lead to lives.”

“Sticks and shields?” the Rookie observed. “No guns?”

“Heavens, no!” Right Hand Wife said above the gasps of the other wives. “A slit cannot be trusted with a firearm! What if she were upset and decided to take it out on others? No, no, too much emotion and not enough control.”

“Yeah, well I know a pilot named Harlow that might have some words about that,” the Rookie said. “I hope for your sake you never say that around her.” The Rookie focused back on the fight below. “So what does this accomplish?”

“Survival,” the Mayor said. “I told you you would learn who has the real power here.” The Mayor grinned and took a seat at the private table provided for him and his wives so they could watch the fights without distraction from the spectators below. “The slits are trained to be the strongest, most adept fighters in Eden. That means that any young man that braves the Maze will have to be even stronger. The man, and his wife, that emerge will provide strength to the population of Eden.”

“Their blood will be more than just survivors for out there,” Right Hand Wife said with such conviction that the Rookie pulled back as she pointed towards the wasteland. “Their blood will be warriors in here! And when evil comes for us, which it will.” She leaned towards the Rookie and he could feel the heat coming off of her. “We will crush it like dry, deader bones under our boots. Eden will never fall.”

“Eden will never fall,” all of the wives stated.

“Holy fuck,” the Rookie whispered as he tried not to shrink from the intensity around him. “You aren’t dicking around.”

Seventeen

“So how does a guy get some grub around here?” Masters asked as he and Harlow were led from their sleeping area back to the Great Maker’s lab. “And a girl. Can’t forget my hungry lady here.”

“Mitch?” Harlow asked.

“Yes, my sexy, two-bladed, killer of deaders?”

“Shut up.”

“Gotcha,” Masters frowned. “But that doesn’t take care of the hungry tummy part.”

“Yes, food,” the Great Maker said, his frown matching Masters’s as he set aside a handful of gears. “That could present a problem.”

“Why?” Masters asked. “You’re looking pretty good for a man that’s mostly machine. I’m sure you have some type of synth junk worked out.”

“Not precisely,” the Great Maker said. “At least not what you would consider appetizing. My machinery works off of geothermal recharging just like any mech should.”

“And the but?” Harlow asked as she took a long look around the room until she found what she was looking for. “Has to do with those bones there.”

“Bones?” Masters asked as he followed her gaze. “Oh, come on! You’re a cannibal? I should have fucking guessed! Guy becomes a fucking deader on purpose, of course he’s gonna want to eat of the flesh! Stupid me thinking you eat synth paste or some other god awful fucking shit like that! No, you gotta be chomping on the people! Fuck. That. Shit.”

“Mitch?”

“What?!” he snapped at Harlow.

“Shut. Up.”

Mitch slowly noticed the crowd of mini-mechs his outburst had brought towards the room. “Oh, right, the potty mouth thing. My bad. My bad.”

“Forgiven,” the Great Maker said. “And no, Pilot Masters, I am not a cannibal. That would make me no better than the abominable hordes, and the blasphemous tribes, that occupy the wasteland. No, I do not eat people. Not in a long time, at least.” His head tilted and he focused on Harlow.

“Eh-hem. Then where did those bones come from, eh?” Masters asked. “They’re looking pretty picked clean. Like maybe they’ve been boiled. Come on, man, I know what I’m looking at.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Harlow said. “Those bones are boiled clean of their meat, right Maker?” The man/machine nodded. “But the meat wasn’t exactly alive when it was caught, was it?”

“Wasn’t alive?” Masters asked as a mini-mech set a tray with a cup of water and a steaming bowl of mush onto the Great Maker’s work table. Two other mini-mechs brought trays to Harlow and Masters. “Then what is...this...made... Oh, fuck me.”

The mini-mechs all bristled, their weapons activating.

“Sorry, Potty Mouth Masters,” Masters said as he reluctantly took the tray from the mini-mech as Harlow did. He looked at her and wanted to cry. “This is deader, isn’t it?”

“It is perfectly sanitary,” the Great Maker said as he took a bite. “I developed the process myself.” He waved his spoon to the pile of bones. “I use those for parts. The bone can be used for gears and pieces that are harder to machine from metal. And the resource is nearly limitless in the wasteland. Unlike some of the more hard to get parts.”

“Not that you are hurting for mech spares,” Harlow said as she matched the Great Maker bite for bit of the deader mush, her willpower keeping her from vomiting. Her eyes studied the man/machine -the cyborg. “But those parts aren’t what you’re after, are they?”

“You two are whacktacular,” Masters said as he set his tray down and kept only the cup of water. “No way I’m eating that.”

“You will,” the Great Maker said. “You won’t have a choice.”

“Oh, I’ll have a choice,” Masters said. “As soon as I get back to the Stronghold I’m eating every bit of synth-whatever I can get my hands on.”

“Mitch?” Harlow asked as soon as she choked down another bite. “I think you are still missing the point.”

“Oh, and what would that be?” he asked with a smirk.

“That you are not leaving here,” the Great Maker said, a look of true sorrow on his face. “Like I said-.”

“Some parts are hard to get,” Harlow said. “Like non-putrid parts? Right, Colonel? That’s what One Arm meant by he could now tend to the children. To provide for them.” The Great Maker nodded. “Instead of eating what was needed by you, as rogue dead mechs do, he could bring the living to you so you could harvest the parts.”