Chapter 27 - Riot

Be approachable.

I stood behind a long-since abandoned farmhouse, watching, waiting, for the bunker doors to open. Milton had given me explicit instructions on when to catch it happening.

"Missions start at 9 a.m. sharp. Which means you'll see a Young Lady pop up about 9:05. Her Daddy will be a second behind."

"How will I know it's who I'm looking for?" I knew where the bunker was. Me, Cherry, and Boone played around it as kids, but we'd never caught anyone coming or leaving.

"The Young Ladies wear cute little dresses that barely cover their asses. I swear, they chose that uniform on purpose just to tease us." Milton laughed. "It's actually kind of fucked up if you think about it too hard. It adds an extra layer to everything, resisting temptation..."

Every once in a while, Milton would go off and talk about things he'd done in the bunker. They were always sexual, and how he talked about the women made even me uncomfortable; and I didn't exactly have a reputation for being innocent.

Milton gave me the rundown, and I followed directions. I hid, waiting to see who came through those doors. I'd seen several soldiers, or Daddies, as Milton had clarified, come and go. But I hadn't seen a Young Lady yet, until today.

She was pale, which considering she didn't see the sun often, made sense. She came out first, her Daddy following behind. The girl was tall, with stick legs and a mean face. She glanced around suspiciously and then waved her Daddy forward. Was she the one in charge, or he? How Milton had explained it to me, the girls just followed behind the men, doing as they were told.

Or maybe that's just how he saw the world.

The Young Lady and her Daddy took off in the other direction, and I followed behind, staying a distance away, observing. It was fascinating to me. The Young Lady went around picking up plants, dirt samples, and searching buildings, while her Daddy stood watch, swinging his gun around wildly. It made no sense to me. They stayed so close to their headquarters. Hadn't this area been searched a hundred times over?

It wasn't until after they returned to the bunker, that another group of men came out with large bags on their backs. They went back, and deposited random items all around the buildings that the Young Lady had gone through.

They were staging it.

So what was the point of sending them up here?

This was bonkers, and the more I observed, the more confused I became. Was this some sort of test? How long would it take for the Young Ladies to figure it out? Is this what Myrtle knew, and why she'd run?

On the third day, I grew brave, and decided to approach one. Her Daddy had stayed behind to fight a crawlie that had come upon them. She was running to the bunker doors, and I stepped out from behind a tree and called to her.

"Young Lady?"

She leaped out of her skin, letting out a shriek.

"Who— how are you—" Her soft blue eyes widened and she paled. "Where is your mask?"

"I don't need one. I'm from the wastelands. Listen, I have something, from Milton."

She blinked rapidly and looked around cautiously before stepping toward me.

"Milton? The DIT? How do you know him?"

"He gave me a letter. He wanted me to find one of you and ask that you pass it to Rank One." I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket and offered it to her. She stared at it for a long moment before taking it carefully.

"Rank One?" She nodded slowly. "Is Milton still alive?"

"He is," I confirmed. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and rocked on my heels awkwardly. She wasn't exactly stunning, but she was different than any other woman I'd ever seen before. She was exceptionally clean, and... I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about her was off. She didn't fit. The other ones too had the same look.

"Is he hurt?" Her brow furrowed.

"I can't say much else. Please, just pass the note on." I backed away, my hands up.

"Who are you? What's your name?" she asked. I hesitated. Would she send someone to Heathen Heights after me? Those soldiers wouldn't hesitate to torch my place. We could defend ourselves from a lot, and we had. Raiders had tried and failed more than once to take over, and we'd been able to defend ourselves, but a militia? We wouldn't stand a chance.

"Martin," I said.

"Martin," she whispered.

"Olive! What are you doing? Get in the bunker!" Her Daddy screamed at her and she scurried away. She shoved the letter down the front of her dress and ran back to the bunker door. I slid back and watched her Daddy follow, ducking in behind her and locking the door tight.

The crawlie he'd been fighting ran head-first into the door, splitting his brainless head open. I sighed and shook my head. I pulled my gun out and stepped out of the shadows, shooting him in the head, putting the monster out of his misery.

He couldn't even kill a fucking crawlie. What exactly was the point of the program, as Milton called it? When I returned to Heathen Heights later, I asked him about it all. He didn't seem to know anything about what I'd witnessed.

"What are you talking about? They don't do that." He grew defensive when I mentioned them staging the area. "Why would they do that?"

"I thought it was odd. I don't think they care about what you guys bring back, there's another reason they're sending you up there."

He didn't speak for a long time. My words must have given him something to think about.

"Who did you speak to? Which Young Lady?" he asked when he started speaking again.

"Her Daddy called her Olive."

He swore. "Olive? She's the worst one. We'll see if the letter gets to where it's supposed to."

"Who's Rank One?" I asked.

Milton wouldn't look me in the eye. "Someone I have a personal vendetta against."

I wished I'd read the letter, but even though I was from the Wastelands, where there wasn't such things like law and order, I had my own set of moral codes. Milton asked me not to read it, and I'd respected that, even though I was curious.

"Now," he cleared his throat. "Per our agreement, you have me for three more days before you untie me and let me extract my revenge on the person who caused this."

He scratched his cheek on his shoulder. One of the purple boils that had formed burst and began to leak down his face. The night before Cherry showed him his reflection and he'd broken down. His angry, smart-ass mouth finally shut and he spent the evening sobbing. We left him alone to cry without an audience. It was understandable.Finding out you were turning into a creepie.

A piece of his hair drifted down, falling to the floor. He took a deep breath.

"Ask away, Riot Ritalin."