Exerpts From the Black Desert

Old bastard Jingu screamed in agony as Boris ran the knife through his chest, piercing it right through the gray leather jumpsuit that we all wear as the wind howled and the old metallic ruins rustled under it. I could hear him squeal even despite the gas mask. I covered lil’ Benny’s eyes with my hands and whispered things to him.

“It’ll all be over soon”, I said.

“He was a bad man anyway” - I would say later.

I say those things so he wouldn’t panic or anythig of the sort, seeing his first kill n’ all, but I can’t lie, I enjoyed seeing him suffer. He deserves it, all the pain, all the stabbing, all the days without food or water, all of it, all for being weak, for betraying the squad, for going against the warband’s orders.

Gehrman, the self-proclaimed thinker that he was, of course looked away. How Boris or Benny or the others could trust him was beyond me. The pale, genetically modified, implant-ridden worm that he was worked right under the TAATB, he did! And not only that, he betrayed his own people to even get into their little organisation when it all started falling down. Doesn’t matter anymore, though. Every time those rich pigs like him decide to do a revolution, they switch sides, and nothing really changes, and every time there is another “change”, another one starts cooking up in little to no time, and with every new “grand rebuilding” that they proposed and forced on us, the time gap between them grew smaller and smaller. I’ve been around long enough to see it happen. I, for once, am happy that the endless cycle broke, that history (and time together with it) isn’t an endlessly repeating flat circle after all, even though men like him would probably want it t’be. The black dessert loves men like me, men who behaved like animals before it became the only way, for the desert doesn’t allow sloppiness. And unfortunately for him, the black desert always take the weak. I suppose we won’t have to tolerate him for long.

Boris, being the smart man that he was, inserted his Hemovac straight into the arteries on Jingu’s neck and started sucking out the old fool’s blood with it, his blood going into the vessel on his wide, muscular back. That was about the only thing Jingu was useful for right now. His blood, to be precise, the water and the vitamins which would then surely be used as fuel were more useful than he himself ever was.

Boris didn’t take any pleasure in taking care of ol’ Jingu. He was all too serious if you ask me. I couldn’t tell you what the dull ol’ Slav does to enjoy his time being here. Ah, would you look at that. Still cling to the names of the bygone times, I do. I can’t help but hold onto those opressive principles, though, in his case at least, for he looks like the most Russian of all the Russians, from the structure of his squarish face to the way he thinks. And oh, Russians, they have a way of thinking alright, not a worse way nor a better way, but a different way, as do people of any culture or race. They tried to supress that a hundred times over, but they never can, oh they never can.

We didn’t waste any time on a burial. The scorpions deserve to feast, too.

“Well? Walk! Our warband demands on it!” - he yelled whilst looking back at the three of us.

After it was done, I let go of Benny, and as he briedly looked at Jingu’s deflated, shrivelled body, old man Gehrman took him by the shoulder, and we kept moving, all of us following after the Slav. We had a mission to do, and it was pretty nice indeed that someone other than me remembered it. Our warband’s king demands recovery of some of the conserved food left in the feeding block up West, a large facility which drowned in the black sand, beneath the piles of it, as well as recovering any straggler blood we come across. Benny was scared, Gehrman was scared, Jingu was scared, hell, even Boris was cautious when they heard about this. I didn’t understand their fear, as, to be frank, it’s better than doing the same minneal tasks back at the shelter.

Benny liked Jingu very much. Jingu taught him to survive out here, he taught him history and how things were before all of this, always talking in big, pretty words and exaggerating how life really was (and he was a good speaker, he was!). ‘S a shame he was weak, and it’s an even bigger shame that sweet Ben takes after ‘im so much.

We had to make camp somewhere as the feeding block was still quite far from us. The poisonous, red moon wasn’t something that we wanted to deal with. No one except for that ol’ Gehrman fella knows what the red moon’s really about, but we know enough to realize that strange things happen when one is engulfed by its light. It figures that he’d know. It’s his folk way back when that turned our beautiful Earth into this, our beautiful system into this, our forests into sand and our sealife into the blood that filled up our oceans, but not before they all dried out, anyway. If the desert doesn’t take ol’ Gehrman, I swear, I will. This trip only serves to remind me of the things he’s done. I wish I could do to him what Boris did to Jingu. The old man wouldn’t be able to resist my strikes, for he’s as weak as Jingu was.

We came across what looked like the ruins of spaceship. After digging them up fully from the black sand, we settled on that, all of us getting our sleeping bags out and making sure to clean the place out from the sand parasites.

Ohh, how much hope did the bastards put on those spaceships way back when! When all else failed, they wanted to flee to their space stations, of course only letting their most privilleged men go, even though they claimed that we are all equal in the end. ‘S a real shame I say, a real shame that it all sank and broke down before they could do it, s’ a shame for them, I should say, for the proles like me tore them up together with their wives and their kids when the stars collapsed and the soil became black.

We all slept in different parts of the controls section of the shuttle, far enough away to keep ourselves in the least bit comfortable, but close enough so that we could look out for each other if anything were to happen, with each of us taking watch every few hours or so.

I was first on watch. Nothing but wind and the ocassional screeching of the scorpions. There wasn’t anything as loud out here as their screeches. I don’t even know how those things do it, nor do I want to know how the change to look the way they do now even happened.

Then, after me, was to be Boris, then Gehrman, and then Benny. I could hear Benny and Gehrman blabbering about on my watch. I didn’t quite catch their whole conversation, but they seemed to get all tight with it. I thought we left such things in the past, I did. If there was one thing that the one ruling power before the Empire and before the one before that other one before the end of the world happened had right, was denying emotion and empathy all that time ago. “It only slows us down, slows down the work, slows down the government’s prosperity”, they said. I say it makes us weaker, it makes us think more than we act. It makes us human, so, so disgustingly human. If there is one thing that I wholeheartedly love about the way we crawl in the sands now is the king’s propositition that we all animals and should behave as such finally taking effect.

“I was there when it happened, right over there, see, on that point on the map, where Riga used to be, in the space examination centre when it all hit the fan, when the Sundering erupted upon us. We did not know what had happened. It was yet another day mostly focused on the relocation of people to S-32 and then, later, to the now terraformed Mars, when suddenly, withour warning, as if an act of god or devil or anything inbetween, the stars up there, above us, started disappearing, the oceans became drier and drier, and the many of the still remaining cities that we had sank under the now blackened soil, which turned into those same sands beneath us.” - Gehrman told Benny as if some sort of poet. Wasn’t Benny old enough to let go of fun stories and big words?

“But you were an astrologist, weren’t you? How could ya not know?” - Benny asked him.

“I doubt anyone had any idea of what was about to happen in those two minutes, Ben. Not a single one of us.” - he shook his head and sighed sadly. - “Can you imagine that? Can you imagine that, huh? So many revolutions and wars and changes have we survived, we, the strongest beings ever concieved on this Earth, we, said to be capable of doing anything if only we put our mind to it - what a load of dogwater -, we, those sinful and yet driven by that same sin to greatness. And yet we, those same great beings, greater than any god ever sketched upon the paper or the canvas, couldn’t last more than 2 minutes, the most of us. Yet you’re here. And Jammis is here, and Boris. You’re all young, and you’re even better than them. Just how you were always meant to be. How you were raised to be.- he whispered, saddened, rubbing his two hands.

“Jingu was also there.” - Benny added as his eyes sank to the ground together with his head. “You know him at all?”

“No, no. Haven’t gotten acquainted much, regretfully.”

“It’s a real shame man. He was a good man, as far as I can tell, despite what they like to say. He was a good friend of my parents before he took me in. Says I wasn’t even comprehending the things around me, how young I was. He was good friends with ‘em, he told me. They were out of the dome when it all sank, he said. Somethin’ about seeing the fruits of their work. Somethin’ bout…platforms, or, whatever they called ‘em-“

“The Western platforms?” - Gehrman asked.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” - he went quiet for a second. - “Jingu was with me, or I was at Jingu’s when…you know. Think I was no older than two or three. Basically raised me, brought me ‘ere...”

“You are devastated of his death, yes?”

Benny hesitantly nodded.

“Were I them, I would say that he is a bad man, a weak man, an untrustworthy man or whatever, but I will not lie to you, Benny. Those men, Benny, they are more violent, more prone to destruction than people like me, liars, exploiters, and murderers like me, could ever be. You’ve heard or at least noticed Jammis’s disgust towards me, yes?”

Benny once again nodded.

“Well, he is right. Men like me ruled once. It’s true. It is all true. We condoned things that were beyond inhumanity if only to persevere. It’s true Benny, we did. And whenever a major change or war or whatever elee happened, men like me were the first to change sides. If there was a great cause of rebuilding, we pretended that we were vivid supporters of it. Whenever there was a new religious belief, we forced outselves to believe in their god, gods, or whatever else they made up. Whenever their god once again became the almighty dollar or yen or whatever else they called ‘em, we believed in those too. Do you get me?”

Benny smiled painfully with his wrinkled lips on full display and nodded.

“The point I am getting at, Ben.” - the ol’ man clarified. - “The point that I am getting at is that I am not a person that you want to attach yourself too. I have lived for far too long, far longer than a human would without the modifications, and in that time, I have sinner more than most people would ever allow themselves to. Calling me anything but a slime would be a compliment in itself, but you see, Benny…you see, the thing about them is that…”

He looked around, and went quiet for a second, thinking I wouldn’t hear ‘im.

“They are animals, Ben.”

As he said those words, my first involuntarily clenched and ny teeth began grinding one against the other like razor blades against a sharpening machine.

“And your Jingu…he was a good man, I trust, yes? Selfless, always thinking of others, yes?”

Benny once again nodded.

“I did not know your Jingu. But I can tell you, Ben, he is one who is in posession of qualities that those other men long rejected.” - his fingers shook from anger. I’d like to see ‘im give in to it so I can make him pay for those words. “That is why he got killed, friend. He disagreed with them one too many times. They aren’t so different from the systems that subjugated us, ones that I lost my humanity in, as they, in their…animalistic - yes! - inhumane, barbarian, archaic ways, can only respond with violence when you deviate!” - he raised his voice for a second, lowering it after hearing the echoes expand upon the sands.

“…what about Boris? Or Jamiss? Or me? Are we animals, too?” - Benny finally asked after a minute or so of pure silence.

“Boris, he… he was an army man before the world collapsed. He does what he needs to do. And yet, even men like him give in when there is no one to control them. But Jamiss…he is a prime example of what I am talking about. He is the kind of man to revel in the blood of the slain if given the permission, and oh, is that permission granted. As long as Boris is alive, though, he will keep it to himself.”

I once again felt my fists clenchin’ and my eyes lightnin’ up. Say one more word, ye ol’ pig, and I swear I’ll cut you up in a way that hurts.

“And as for you, Ben…” - Gehrman’s eyes lighted up. - “You’ll lead the new generation. The others doubt it, but I want to believe. There is no way that we can suffer for this long, that just cannot be true.”

“What if I don’t make ‘it?” - Benny asked. With every word he said, the less I trusted ‘im. He shoulda been stabbed along with ol’ Jingu.

“You must. You were raised, modified, and otherwise designed to be as perfect as a man could ever be. You must survive. And you will. These old fools will die fighting amongst themselves, but you…you are different from them, from me. The younger ones always surpass their benefactors, do they not? Well, so will you.”

Benny chuckled in a way that I can only describe as ironic.

“And if they try to stop you - and you look at me when I tell you this.” - Gehrman’s voice lowered. “If they try to turn into their blood fuel and turn you into nothing more than something to feed on,” - he put his hand on Benny’s shoulder, which was covered in the black sand which made a whispery rustling noise when stepped on or touched.

“If they ever do that, Ben…you will raise your blade against them and cut them down the way they would cut you down. There is no other way.”

What a joke! What a joke! Who does he think he is? Who does the small skunk think HE is? How dare he assume he’s any better than me, ol’ Jammis, the prole that tore greedy ol’ men like him, their useless lil’ children like Ben! When the chance comes, I’ll make ‘em both pay. After all, I need only to call the squad and inform them of the supplies in order for the mission to be considered complete. They’re only as good as their blood, as the water and the fuel inside of ‘im, men like ‘em. I’ll surely slaughter them.

Boris is next. I dare to fall asleep. They’re a liability, those two, gettin’ all lovey-dovey. I’ll kill them. They’re no better than Jingu. Their blood’s more useful as fuel than they are as people, it is.

The king’s people need to be better than this, that I know. Maybe that’s why he sent us all the way here. As some sort of test. To rid us, the king’s men, of scum like them. That’s why he sent Boris and me, is that it? Yes, surely. We’re the good ‘uns. We’ll survive anything, we’ll persevere, surely. Desert’s our home, not those three’s…now two’s. It’ll take them one way or another, I know it.

***

It has been another day or two. Boris gets his directions mixed up from the exhaustion, so ol’ Gehrman, damn ‘im, has to help him here and there. We’re all tired, all of us larping and panting with every other step. Benny’s calmed down. He’s barely talked since Boris slaughtered ol’ Jingu. Gehrman stumbles with every step…good. Good. I’ve been saving my strengths if only to reign my final retribution over his kind.

We stopped in the middle of where t’ city centre supposedly was. Boris could tell by the peak of a large, thin tower creeping from und’r the ground. Radio towers, I think’s what they were. Doesn’t really matter anymore.

Boris and Gehrman walked closer to it, me, and then, lastly, Benny, followin’ behind. That was it, I think. Boris made a call back to station.

“Yeah, yeah.” - he murmured to ‘imself. “Tower’s found. Will dig, yeah. How much to wait?”

“Well?” - Gehrman asked. “How long until they arrive?”

“8 hours or so. In the mean time, we dig.” - Boris said with a strict tone.

“D-Dig, as in, manually dig? Is it real’ necessary?” - Benny asked him. Coward’s what he was. S’ a shame he made it this far, even.

“You’ve heard me. Not up to me. Now, dig!”

“Suicide mission…this is a suicide mission…I should have gotten that…” - I heard ol’ Gehrman whisper.

The four of us spread ourselves over the approximate area, when suddenly-

«THUMP».

The black sand beneath where Boris and Gehrman stood started opening up beneath them to reveal a hole greater than 1-2 kilometres deep beneath them that swallowed all beneath it with every second, for with every single passing second, it became bigger and bigger.

«THUMP»

“It’s hollow, hollow! Hollow! Hollow, damn it!” - Benny yelled as he was the first to see it.

“Run!” - Gehrman yelled back as the sand started swallowing him, too.

In that moment, I could see Boris fall onto the sharp peak of another one o’ those endless towers under ‘im, where the ruling ones were. His body was pierced by a statue’s rusted spears. It depicted national heroes of the anti-industrialisation war out’ here. The suited man depicted help a spear that represented a comeback to the roots. Was built right after the god-fearin’ ideology failed.

The Slav’s belly was pierced by the freedom symbol’s sharp, uneved peak, doin’ so with a disgusting pop. He let out a haunting scream after. So haunting, so real, that it felt pleasurable. It’s been long since I’ve heard men scream like this…the last time was when-

Gehrman ran away from the crevice opening under him, grabbing onto a founding right above me as he hanged over the ruins of where a city used to be. There, beneath ‘im, were ghosts of a civilisation, with many of the facilities and transports still intact. Where did the souls go, I wonder? Wher-

“Help…damn it, help…!” - he let out, pleading me to hold ‘im up by his metallic hand reaching out to me.

For a second, I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned, but only for that one second. Then, it hit me. This was everything I wanted ever since we went here. It’s not the desert that’ll take ‘em, no. It’s me that will, and I’ll make ‘im feel it. I’ll make ‘im feel everythin’.

Everything he deserves. If their god really does exist, then he is a good and just one!

I walked up closer to the edge of the foundation and put my dirty boot on his shriveled. old face. He groaned. I could feel my smile getting wider. Oh, how good it felt. The desert’s good to us, the king’s men. Their god’s good and just.

I pushed. He was barely able to hold on for more than a few seconds. I didn’t show it, but I was gleefully watching as the old man looked at me with nothin’ but fear in his marasmatic eyes. It was a long fall.

Before I could fully the sight of him falling to his death like the pig he is, seein’ him splat as he was falling from this great height, I felt a searing pain in my back. I couldn’t even let out a scream. All that left me was a small gust of wind. I attempted to turn around to see Benny’s sharp, uneven knife lodged in me.

I tried to yell, to scream, but all that could leave my lungs were little pathetic wheezes. Benny’s face was full of rage, his eyes twitching as tears flowed down his cheeks. Even when committing an act as holy and visceral as murder, he looked pathetic. He didn’t feel rage the way us great men do. And to think that Jamiss, the prole that outlived all, all the wars and all the revolutions, the Sundering, too, that Jamiss, whose more “man” than any of ‘em could ever be. would be killed by such waste….

With my primal rage primed into my final burst of true, god-given carnage, I took the knife out of the pocket on my chest and it ran it through him.

There. It’s done. I won’t allow the warband a future with people like HIM. Always blabberin’ and thinkin’…not like us. We act. We take what’s ours. We say no. We always say no. He was never one of us, he wasn’t. A son of a pig, raised by a weakling, sympathiser of the biggest pig of ‘em all, could never understand the glory of pure, unadulterated, unpunished carnage.

The pick up drone’ll arrive soon enough. Warband’ll continue t’ thrive. To take. To cut and to bite, and they’ll be happy for it. The thinkers and the blabberers’ll get ruled out eventually. I hope it. I know it.

Benny’s bleedin’ out beside me. He’s crawlin’ away n’ out where we came from, except he’ll never stand again. He looks devastated, broken. Ol’ Gehrman woulda surely been disappointed. Ol’ Jingu too. Benny will die in a puddle of his own tears, of his disappointment. Not so perfect after all. No “bright” future for you after all, ye pigs.

The blood moon’s rising. If he’s not planning to die from the knife, he’ll surely die from the burning and the pain. I’ll make sure to listen as the scorpions and the locusts and the desert bugs tear him apart.

But me? I feel fulfilled. I feel happy. I hear the propellers get closer. I’ll die happy knowin’ that thinkin’ men’ll never be a problem for us ever again.