After this lovely
introduction to Outworld, the other man turned and began making his
way back into the forest, away from the clearing. I considered
letting him leave, but he seemed to have a vague idea of where we
were. That was more than I had. Ignoring the growls now coming from
my stomach, I began hiking after him.
We proceeded a
couple hundred feet before he turned to look back at me. His
expression was unreadable, but he seemed to be waiting for me to get
closer. I made my way to his side, trying to keep down my panting.
The man moved surprisingly fast for his bulk and load of weapons.
“Do
you mind if I accompany you?” I asked, once I had regained some
semblance of breath. “Sorry to impose, but I don't have any real
idea where I'm going.”
“No
one does,” the man scoffed, but there didn't seem to be any malice
behind the retort. “Yeah, try to keep up. I'll take it a little
easier, maybe try to explain this place a little.” I nodded, and
thus began my first primer on Outworld.
The man introduced
himself offhandedly as Cain. When I asked if it was his real name,
he smiled humorlessly.
“First
rule of Outworld,” he said, sticking up a stubby finger. “Whatever
you were before here, it doesn't matter. Not that anyone has a clue.
None of us remember our past, or anything beyond this place. And
knowing what I can do, I don't think I want to remember,” he added,
looking down at the ground. I wisely didn't probe this topic.
“Us?”
I asked instead. “Are there other people here?”
My newfound
companion started to nod, changed it to a shake of his head, but
ended with a shrug. “There's a few,” he said. “Outworld turns
you into a survivor pretty fast. I bet there were probably more out
there at first, but most of them don't survive the first encounter
with the wildlife.” He winked sardonically at me, and I remembered
the horror that had been disguised as a little girl.
“But
there are some that manage to get by, fight them off,” he
continued. “Take me. And a few of them have tried to settle down,
make some sort of settlement, but those don't often last too long. A
Stomper comes wandering by, that's the end of that.” I wondered
what a Stomper was, but I was fairly sure I would be more distressed
by the answer than by not knowing. “I come across newbies like
you, occasionally. Most of the time, they're already face down in
the dirt, though.”
“Well,
thank you for saving me,” I responded automatically.
He shrugged one
shoulder. “Just delaying the inevitable,” he said. “This
place gets everyone, eventually. 'Outworld – where you're already
on the way out.' But it does get lonely out here, with everything
always being foreign. Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk
to.”
He sounded
uncomfortable about expressing so much sentiment. I decided that it
was time to change the subject. “So, where did you get those?” I
asked, gesturing to the rifle slung over his shoulder and the
automatic strapped to his leg.
Cain ran a hand over
the butt of his pistol. “Found them,” he replied. “Salvage.
There's a lot of that out here. Probably the best way to get your
hands on things in Outworld, at least if you don't want strings
attached.”
I was about to
inquire what he meant by salvage, but then I remembered the half of
the sailing ship where I had first awoken. I mentally kicked myself
for not searching the wreckage for a weapon. “Are they all boats?”
I asked instead.
“Boats?”
Cain glanced back at me, surprised.
“Yeah.
I woke up on a boat. Well, half of a boat. An old sailing ship, I
think.”
To my surprise, Cain
chuckled. “Man, you ain't seen nothin' yet,” he commented, his
voice taking on a Western drawl. “Eventually, everything ends up
here in Outworld. Most of it I don't remember until I've found it,
but we get it all. In fact, you'll see in just a few minutes for
yourself.”
What? I looked at
him, puzzled, but he merely nodded forward. I pulled my gaze up from
the path to look ahead. I had become accustomed to the sight of the
gigantic trees, stretching on endlessly into the gloom in all
directions, but in front of us they seemed thinner, and rays of light
were shining through. We were reaching the edge of the forest.
We climbed one last
ridge, stepping around the large boulders sunk deep into the mossy
peat, and the landscape opened up in front of me. At the ridge's
top, Cain paused, gazing forward expressionlessly. Hands on my knees
and sucking in breaths of air, I blinked as I stared into the
brightness, trying to understand.
On the far side of
the ridge, the mossy earth gave way to sand, and rolling dunes
stretched out towards the horizon. From where we stood, it looked
almost like an ocean of sand, shimmering in the sunlight. Scattered
among the dunes were the wrecks of dozens of ships of all sizes and
types. Off to our right, I could see the stern of an aircraft
carrier, rusting and half-buried in the sand. Atop another dune
stood a lighthouse. It was listing alarmingly and the red
barber-pole stripes painted on it were so faded as to be nearly
indistinguishable, but the building was still unmistakable.
Beside me, Cain
chuckled dryly. “Outworld,” he said simply. He waited a minute
longer, and then began slowly descending into the dry ocean. I
followed carefully, trying to keep my footing in the treacherous
sand.
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