Fool's Gold

She was five when The End, as it had been named, had reached its peak. It had been a slow but steady decline of technology and resources. Anarchy in the streets as prices were gouged and the people that once “served the public” invested in their own interests. Riots, murder, explosions across cities; all of this brought about an end to a nation once revered as great.

She had been in a family of four, now only two as her parents had left her and her brother to ensure their own safety. “They’re a liability,” their father had whispered and as distraught as she had looked, their mother agreed. Her brother had been furious. He had heard their hushed conspiring and vowed to keep his sister safe.

It had only been the two of them for about a year when the bombing began in her home city. The order to evacuate came after they lost the state capitol building. The night before they’d left their only home her brother had broken a locket, an heirloom of their treacherous mother, and wrote each of their names on the back of either piece.

“If we get separated,” he said,” you’ll be able to find me with my picture and name.” He held her tightly in a hug and she could feel him shaking as he held back tears.

The next day they were running. Her brother held her small hand tightly, his grip had hurt but she knew it was desperation to keep them together that made him squeeze so tight. As they drew closer to the designated evac location they could hear the screams in the streets; people were trampling others for a spot on the plane, the injured were screaming curses as they were left behind by their groups. Somehow she and her brother had made it to the runway, they were going to make it on the plane.

The crowd was a pulsing mass of elbows and shoving; their height was to their advantage as they squeezed through legs and other gaps between bodies. By the time they reached the front of the crowd there was no feeling in her fingers from her brother’s grip.

“We made it,” he rasped, panting from the effort and exhaustion of trying to make it to their only chance of hope. He looked down and gave her a small smile of relief, not knowing it would be the last smile he would give her and that this moment would forever be etched in her memory. Just as she turned to him to return his smile, a crackle cut through the sound of the crowd as the PA system was activated.

“That’s it,” it yelled,” grab the closest ones and close the hatch. We take off in five.” The soldiers at the stairway paled as the crowd surged. Her brother’s grip, as strong as an 11 year old could be, was broken as she was swept into the crowd.

“Emily!!,” he screamed, pushing through the adults who threw elbows and kicked out at others to get to the front. “Wait, my sister! My sister!”

Emily screamed as she was grabbed by a uniformed man, she searched the writhing masses for her brother.

“Put me down!! Put me down! Michael!!!”

The man shook her roughly to silence her as she wailed. “Hey, that’s my sister. Let her go!!,” Michael cried, bursting through the crowd and running up to the man, “Don’t shake her like that, she’s just a little girl!” With a menacing sneer the soldier hauled Emily under his arm and drew his other hand up in the air. The crack of his gun butt hitting Micheal’s face silenced Emily’s cries. His small body crumpled as the soldier made his way onto the plane. Emily was jostled out of her shocked silence and began to shriek, “You killed him!! Michael!!! Michael!!” She was thrown onto the plane’s floor and through her tears she watched as they shut the plane’s door. The cries of the people left behind were muffled and the passengers on board turned away from the windows, unable to watch as the plane began to shudder to life.

Emily awoke with a start, her hand clutching at her shirt neck. Shaky fingers brushed across a once shining gold chain. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes again, trying in vain to recall the face that had once adorned the picture in her broken locket. It had been 20 years since she had seen her brother and all she had were memories and the feeling of being loved. She remembered his final smile, how his teeth were a bit crooked and looked almost like her own, but his face was a blur.

She squeezed her eyes tight, this was a nightmare she had long grown used to. Slowly she sat up in her cot and placed her feet on the cold cement of her floor. It was a Recovery day, she had to get her head straight before leading her team into the Deadlands to scavenge for any necessary parts and items. The years hadn’t been kind, but making it on the plane had been beneficial for her. The East Coast Refuge had been formed and taken in all planes that evacuated cities. The country’s Capital had not fallen and the soldiers and military personnel had quickly established a barricade leading into the East Coast.

Looking at a map of what used to be the United States of America, a black diagonal line cut through West Virginia and Pennsylvania to the shores of Lake Erie; this was the East Coast Refuge. It had spread south along the shoreline as time had passed, but to ensure that the military could keep control of the area they kept as close to the original border as possible. Emily had found herself amongst the masses, alone and scared she’d wandered the area unattended for two days before being scooped up by a well meaning family and taken in as their own. She’d grown up hearing stories of how the world used to be and the quiet murmurs of conspiracy theories about how the government had started it all for their own gain and an iron hand around the commonwealth.

After dressing and checking her packs, Emily rallied her party together for the trip out. She didn’t trust any of the military personnel stationed to ‘protect’ the settlement, not since that day they stole what family she had left away from her. She smiled at the four faces in front of her, these were the people she could trust: Marcus, Shelby, Bronx and Ty. They were all within the same age range and could relate to each other’s experiences and grieve in the same manner.

“Alright,” Emily started,” let’s settle down and get to business.”

They would be out for at least two weeks, hitting select ruins to scavenge items and materials. Previous parties had already cleared out neighboring areas and so her party was meant to search closest to the Centralists’ territory.

The Central Stronghold was a higher risk than Southerners. Southerners kept to themselves but Centralists, they were aggressive and vehemently anti-Old World military. Emily could relate, but she knew that she was lucky to live where she was and grow up well fed and relatively happy.

Five days into their trip and Emily was feeling disheartened. The previous scouted items that were marked had already been scavenged and scrapped. ‘Maybe we should head back,’ she thought with a grimace, ’I don’t like how this is panning out at all.’

They made camp and Emily worried her lip as she stared into the night. Her friends were joking around the fire, enjoying the quiet of the night and the freedom that being outside of the Barrier gave them. A cry echoed through the silence of the forest, Emily stood abruptly,” Get to your bikes,” she hissed pointing towards their hidden motorcycles, ”I’ll catch up as soon as I’m able.” Wide eyed, but silent, her group slunk into the darkness to roll their bikes away and ride off. Once they cleared the area, Emily pulled a leather string necklace out of her jacket and slipped it over her neck. She sneered at the group that raucously walked into her campsite.

“Well, lookie-here,” came a low rasp,” we got ourselves a lone she-wolf.” A cackle rose through the ranks, Emily was reminded of the old National Geographic movies about hyenas and their specific laughing barks. She took a steadying breath and stood tall, ”To what do I owe this visit?,” she pulled at the leather necklace,” I’ve got Hack’s approval to be this close to the border.”

The laughter faded off and an awkward silence met her statement. A skull painted face stepped closer to her fire, ”Are you alone little she-wolf?” Emily grit her teeth and tilted her head, ”What’s it to you?”

“Ah, well, Hack ain’t in charge no more. New boss, so,” he gave Emily a leer and slowly trailed his eyes along her body, ”we thought we’d prove ourselves with an Eastern Militant.”

Emily paled, Hacksaw was dead? She’d broken every rule just to gain what little trust she had from the Centralist leader. Emily began to sweat, “I’m not part of the military, I’m just a materials scout trying to survive.” Skullface leaned close and cut the leather around her neck, ”Don’t matter to us.” He brushed a finger along her neck and paused, ”Boys, we found gold.” Emily slapped his hand away and stepped back, ”Fuck off,” The group laughed again, Skullface looked furious, ”Let’s bring back something nice for the new boss.”

“I said,” Emily drew her pistol and shot Skullface pointblank in the forehead, ”fuck off.”

“Boss, Reap’s crew is back, well….one of ‘em at least.”

Dagg walked toward the binoculars, ”One? Just what the hell did that idiot do now?” Dagg slowly made his way to the gates, the masses separated as he strode forward. Dagg smiled, it was good to be in charge. The Stronghold’s gate yawned open and a single figure strode in, dragging a large canvas behind him. “Boss, Reap and the rest are dead. But, I,” he gestured to himself grandly, ”took down an Eastern scout and brought back a gift for you!” He extended his hand and a gold chain was wrapped between his fingers.

Dagg spat at the ground hard, ”Did I ever say the lot of you could leave?!” The answer never came, as soon as he was close enough Dagg viciously stabbed him in the neck.

”You,” he growled, ”don’t do shit,” a twist of the blade and blood gushed across the floor,” without my say so.”

The man gurgled as he slumped forward against Dagg, his hand going limp and dropping the item he carried. “Clean this shit up,” Dagg called, pushing the corpse off of his shoulder. He glanced down at the thin gold chain on the ground and froze.

“No,” he whispered, ”oh..oh no, no, no.” The Centralists all stopped and stared as their leader collapsed to his knees. He was shaking and on the verge of tears. He lifted the trinket from the floor and let out a low moan of anguish. Dagg, no Michael, had dreamed of this day. He gripped the necklace hard and reached for the matching chain around his own neck, but not like this. Never like this. Dagg’s scream was sudden and wrought with despair. Through his tears he shakily put the two pieces of the heart together, whole at last after 20 years.