The wasteland I live in

I want to tell you my story, to show you the world after a nuclear war through my eyes, through my experiences.
My name is Andrei Scott, and this is the first chapter in my life, that I want to share with you.

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1. Lisa, her name was.

 

Lisa, her name was. Best friend I've ever had.

She was a guard on one of the caravans, that had luckily walked past me, after I had fainted in the middle of nowhere.

I remember a lot of my life clearly, and I can still call out her face in my mind. The blonde hair, the freckles, the blue eyes and her incredible height. I miss her so much.

 

The night sky was so beautiful and full of stars when I opened my eyes and stared straight up into the heaven above me. I was surprised to find myself alive, after I had succumbed to the exhaustion of my escape. That's when it struck me: I was alive! No monster had eaten me, no slaver had picked me up as I felt no collar. Though I was happy to be free and alive, I quickly sat up to meet a different surrounding than what I could recall from earlier. And just how long had I been out? It was day last I remember.

Two strangers were sitting and eating not too far away from me, by a bonfire and the smell of the meat made my stomach realize how empty and starved it was. From what I could see, they were no bandits or slavers. They were too few and appeared too civilized for the lifestyle. Which was a slight relief, but it was nothing compared to how scared I was, and the extra shock I got, when one of them turned my way.

From what I could hear as faintly as ever, the person had a light and calm voice, one of a feminine structure, and I figured the person for being a woman.

“He's awake...” Was what she said, or more likely whispered, and then nodded my way.

The other person, an older man by what I could tell from the faint light the fire gave, turned to look at me too, and I felt cold, and unfriendly shivers run down my back, as his eyes met mine. Without a word from him, he gave her a plate, where after she got up and headed my way. Fear bit me, and I panicked, trying to crawl backwards but a fence was in my way. That's when I noticed that I was caged, in a manner of speaking.

As there were no way out, I sat still and watched her close in on me, first thing I noticed was her long, bright hair, which seemed white in the night.

“I'm not going to hurt you, don't worry.” She said with a British accent, and a soothing tone that sounded so convincing, I felt my body ease up.

But a voice in my head still told me to run for it, as she sat down next to me, with her guard down and offered me the plate with food, which I weren't slow to accept.

“Thank you” I whispered and took a bite of what smelled like chicken.

She sat and watched me with a silent smile, until I finished the small dish that had been kindly offered.

“My name's Lisa, and that over there, is Horatio.” She said and pointed at the older man, as he kept on ignoring us.

“He can't talk,” she explained, “but that's what you get from drinking irradiated cola.”

That did indeed have negative reactions to ones body, and it was not unlikely that it could have damaged his vocal cords. I felt pity for the old man, but feared he'd rip me apart if he knew. He gave off this unfriendly vibe, but mostly everyone did. This woman, Lisa, was sure a sight for sore eyes – or at least her attitude was making me feel better about my situation. She sat rather close to me, as she asked for my own name and her smile made me reveal it:

“I-I'm Andrei...” I stuttered, which I rarely did, but that went for my talking too.

She was something different to encounter in a wasteland filled with hate and war.

I stood up and walked across the dry desert ground, to the point of where I could see the flag that bore the mark of the civilized society, or so that was what they thought about themselves. Though the colours were difficult to see, I knew it was blue, with a single white star in the middle, symbolizing a single society, which was what they fought for. They called themselves “New Haven”.

I heard footsteps and saw Lisa walk up next to me, as she too admired the flag.

“Tell me... where am I?” I silently asked, and saw a few soldiers walk around with their assault rifles, and then noticed we weren't alone in this large cage.

“Why, you're at Holly Campground. Was a place where people could put up tents and caravans, but not the kind of caravans we know of. No it was like smaller metallic houses on wheels... Sounds so fictional, right?” She chuckled and shook her head at the thought, and I had to admit, it did sound unrealistic to me too.

But no matter how wrong it seemed to us, there were still these “caravans” from before the war, scattered all around the place, but they only looked like metallic shells. Nowadays a “caravan” is a travelling merchant, who has an animal pulling a cart around for them. And a campground still served it's original purpose, as it held a few sleeping merchants and their staff, gathered around several bonfires within the fenced area.

It felt so safe.

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