Waste of the Wasteland World

Struggling to breathe, I gasp for air and dig my nails in the earth, barely crawling forward as an Antrod pulls off my oxygen mask. Its robotic arms, the shining and glimmering reflection in this bleak world of a desert wasteland, use to fill us with hope until they overpowered us, our creation, now a sign of the only disaster to come. As I fell onto a sand ridden rock, three things occurred: firstly, a large thud as the right side of my face caused me to colour the rock red; the heart-shaped locket that Julia had given me, unclipped, and Julia the burning red flame of my heart was ripped away from me by the Antrods- screaming and pouring pleas under the blazing sun to anyone listening failed, as one one was near us for what seems an eternity away.

'Julia', I whimper with my last breath.

A squealing Lazmar woke me up. Its squirrel hands had placed a green oxygen mask on me when next to me lay my red one, smashed to pieces by an Antrods robotic foot. The Lazmar started signing to me in Auslan- the ancient language that is the only way all humans and hybrids can communication- that we must leave quickly. His human legs moved relatively slow compared to his bushy tail that shook violently as he shuffled towards what I guess to be a haven. It was weird to see after walking only hundred of metres that a Lazmar lived underground.

' I was able to help so quickly as i was watching from afar' he produced a sigh, his tiny hands trying to keep up

' I saw them take someone.'

Julia! My locket!

' We need to find her.'

The Lazmar ran a hand through his ears and started squeaking to himself whilst walking over to a chair in his underground home.

' They will kill you'

' She is worth it' I sign, hoping the desperation is showing in my eyes.

Raising from his custom chair, allowing for his never-ending tail, he shuffled to the dark corner as I examined his home. A dome-like shape, with only a few custom chairs and a kitchen alongside the entryway, which we blocked off with a large boulder upon arrival. The dome was just tall enough to fit his tail in at its proper extended size. Appearing by my side, Laz, which I had decided to call him, hands me black clothing with a big hole at the back. As soon as I point at this, he squeaks and pulls it away from my grasp. I cling on, contorting my face and raising my eyebrow. Laz slides it out and tugs at my hand. I follow and in the dark, which soon becomes blinding although the sun was present, thinking so I stepped back hesitantly. Pulling me forward again, I push past the fire and see black handed swords on the ground, and black clothing, which I gather were made for a Lazmar. Starting to stitch the back of the hole together, I examine the swords. Something shakes the dome, and sand falls on our hands. My heart may of stopped beating, but my hand grips the sword tighter.