Deserted (28 page)

           
My heart was no longer racing and I felt my grip fade from my jeans. “I’d love
to,” I replied unconsciously and I returned his grin. I followed him outside the
tent and around the back, noticing his guards giving me a sideways glance but
nothing more. Judging by their skeptical glances I assumed this was not
something Nathaniel did often.

           
“So it must have been a trying journey.” The Pirate said at last as we wandered
into the exposed wasteland.

           
“It was…interesting.” I responded, watching the swirling sands on the outskirts
of town. Just like the Dunes back home, I could watch them swirl for hours.

           
Nathaniel let loose a small laugh. “Interesting? If your trek was anything like
mine then I know you’re putting it lightly.”

           
“Well…I might have met the same worm that you did.” I had spoken without
thinking.

           
He stopped and turned towards me, his eyes squinting in thought. “How did you
know that?” Nathaniel’s smile had faded, leaving him looking like the mad and
intimidating man that I met inside the tent.

           
I gulped. Should I have not have said that? “I believe…I’ve read your journal.”

           
He continued to stare at me and I shuffled on my feet, doing what I could to
avoid his gaze.
“How?”
He said at last.

           
“There was a journal in the library back home…Kay had found it. He read parts
of it to me. A man named Nathaniel was rescued in the wasteland from giant
worms. I assumed it was you but maybe not; could be anybody.” I had tried to
backpedal, hoping I could reduce his anger. I looked around quickly at the
expanse of nothingness now around me and the bulking man before me. Was coming
out here a mistake?

           
Finally his eyes lowered from me and a short smile re-emerged. “Yes, you’re
right; it could have been anybody…but that was indeed me.”

           
“Nathaniel…Nathaniel
Torin
?” I spit the words out
nervously.

           
“Please; call me Nate. But, yes, that would be me. Now I know where my journal
disappeared to…” He laughed heartily now, his smile once again brightening his
entire face, “I threw it in a box when I returned home; I forgot about it and
must have delivered it to your village unknowingly.” He shook his head but
smiled at his mistake, “it’s too bad about that fire in the library, then,
huh?”

           
I merely watched him go at first, my head whirling with sudden thoughts.
“Delivered it?” I called after him.

           
He turned to look at me, his face soft and he furrowed his brow tentatively.
“Yes, of course. Have you not realized it yet? I am your Provider.”

           
I stared at him in stunned silence; he was not at all what I had expected for a
Provider, although it made sense. The Pirates have access to a seemingly
endless amount of supplies and can travel quickly across the desert…honestly, I
should have known as soon as I arrived here.

           
“Why would you do it? What made you decide to be our Provider? Why not just
escort us to the Outpost or something?”

           
“Well we weren’t about to uproot an entire village for no real reason and we’d
rather people don’t rely on us anyway. We tried to help out and then they all
just sort of…congregated here. We’re not about to abandon anyone, though.”

I
watched the sand dance around our feet. “You couldn’t have even bothered to
tell us about the Outpost? That there were other survivors?” I asked.

“We were
trying to be as hands-off as possible…we only wanted to ensure your town’s
survival, not intrude in people’s lives. The wasteland was always available to
explore if they really wanted to. You’re the only one who did.”

“Well how
exactly do you expect us to venture into the desert? Hell, I barely made it
myself!”

Nathaniel
grinned and gestured to himself. “Was I not available? If anyone had bothered
to ask for it, I would have provided the means to get through the desert as safely
as I could. Even a small scouting mission would have sufficed. But no one ever
asked.”

There
was a pause between us as I digested his words. “As for the secrecy…” Nathaniel
gazed out at the blazing sandstorm in the distance, seeming to focus on something
in particular that my eyes were not strong enough to see, “we don’t want to be
known. It’s safer that way.”

“Safer?”

“Our
entire way of life would be jeopardized if someone found their way in. It’s
better this way.”

           
“I have to ask, Nathaniel. You Pirates are so standoffish, so why are you
deciding to talk to me, then?
Why me?”

“I have
many reasons and none of them really matter in the end, although I’m sure we’ve
experienced many of the same things out in the wasteland. We’re more alike than
you may think.”

I
couldn’t help but smile. Their very own representative is comparing me to one
of them? And yet, what do I really know of these people? First impressions
haven’t been that great.

           
“How so?”
I finally asked.

           
“You’ve never really liked staying still, have you? A ho-hum existence in town
never really seemed to satisfy you. And you didn’t hesitate to venture into the
wasteland, either. You have a Pirate’s spirit.”

           
I furrowed my brow. “And how do you know all this?”

           
“Well I’m your Provider; I’ve known you all your life. I’ve stayed acutely
aware of what’s been going on within your town.”

           
This jarred forth another question that had been rattling around in my mind.
“Who was the Mediator?”

           
“An older man that is unfortunately no longer with us,” Nathaniel’s face turned
sombre, “My son, Jack, used to help him bring the goods to you but he was only
a lad at the time; he was in training. I believe you may have met him when you
visited the Meeting Place. Jack has trained well, though; he is currently your
town’s Mediator. Chester has unknowingly met him.”

           
“Jack…” I thought the name aloud; it sounded familiar.

           
“He lives near your village;
a cove near
the Meeting Place.
He’s been my source of information for many years.”

           
“Cove?”
I asked. “Would that not imply water?”

           
“Well it
used
to be a cove, I suppose I should say. Your home was once
quite close to a large ocean, back before the Reckoning.”

           
“So you know about the Reckoning?” I found my curiosity piqued at the thought.

           
“Barely.”

           
Small vortexes of sand kicked up around my feet as I thought back on my
journey. “Well, what
do
you know? What exactly was it?”

           
“I don’t really know. I was ushered into a bunker with a few others and hid out
there while it happened. All I know is that it turned everything to sand.
Seemed to drain the very life out anything it touched. Many people think it was
some sort of religious thing; God’s wrath for our sins.”

           
“Do you think that’s true?”

           
Nathaniel shrugged. “I was a sixteen-year old orphan at the time. Higher powers
were the last thing on my mind.”

           
“So what about the crazed people, then?”

           
“I don’t know. Their sickness could have been caused by a multitude of things.
I’m not sure if the Reckoning affected people, but I do know that there was
something in the air afterwards. People performed their own forms of quarantine
to the point of burning every last thing to the ground in a foolish attempt to
contain it. I don’t know anything about this
virus
, if it really was
one, but I haven’t seen anyone else affected by it.”

           
I stopped and thought for a moment. “Dr.
Krastanov
said that his attackers were drenched in chemicals and ran out into the
wasteland. Could that have caused something? Could the sickness have affected
them like that?”

           
“Most definitely.
There were a lot of labs scattered
around at one point. I can only imagine what must have happened to their
materials when the Reckoning happened.” Nathaniel stopped and narrowed his eyes
at me. “I’m surprised that Dr.
Krastanov
even told
you something like that. I wouldn’t have imagined him to be the talkative
type.”

           
I shook my head. “He didn’t exactly tell
me,
per se…I
found a video.” I paused. “What do you mean by ‘imagined’? Have you never met
him?”

           
“No, of course not.
No one has. At least, no one that
has kept their memories.”

           
I rubbed my temples. “I don’t understand.
Tsvetan
said that you two work closely together.”

           
“
Tsvetan
?”

           
“Yeah, the scientist.
That’s his name.”

           
“I’ve never heard of him but I can assure you we have no business together.
Like I said, we like to stay out of it. That’s why it was left to Chester, for
all the good that did.”

           
I gave him a skeptical glance.

           
“Chester has been in charge of finding missing people for years, now; ever
since he first arrived here. I’ll admit that I gave him special precedence
because I knew him. But in the end he was all talk and even more excuses -
always needing more people for his militia or stating that it was far too windy
to be infiltrating anything. He never once went back into the wasteland.”

           
“That…doesn’t sound like him at all. Nothing does anymore…”

           
“He was a good man.” Nate spoke in a hushed tone and appeared to be unsure of
what to say.

           
I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the pit in my stomach. There was a moment of
silence between us and I contemplated asking the most important question of
all; the entire reason I was out here to begin with. Would he really answer me?
I gazed up into his face,
scrying
for a clue. His
face was soft, almost familiar, and I found myself trusting him more than I
probably should have. He told me to ask questions; what could one more hurt?
“So you know nothing of the Reckoning or what exactly happened to Kay or my
father?”

           
“All I can say is that it wasn’t my call to make. I did what I could to help
them but in the end it was out of my hands. I’m sorry for what it’s put you
through.”

           
“Then
who’s
call
was
it to make?” I spit the
words out in anger, frustrated by the lack of answers.

           
“Someone above me.
Above
us
.
Someone that does not like being talked about and something that doesn’t apply
to you anyway. It’s a Pirate’s problem; leave it at that.”

           
“Just who
are
you people?”

           
“Ones saved from the Reckoning. We weren’t the ones who started to call
ourselves ‘Pirates’, either; it’s a moniker given to us that we just sort
of…adopted. We’re no better than the rest of you.”

           
“Funny; most of you seem to think and act differently.”

           
“Yes, it is a growing problem. No two people are the same, of course, and
disagreements are bound to come up. I don’t exactly agree with this, but most
Pirates deem your kind as beneath them…it’s why you won’t find many Pirates
speaking to you. They call you
groundwalkers
and consider you inferior beings. That’s part of where the secrecy comes from;
they don’t want our world
sullied
by
groundwalkers
.”

           
“Well isn’t that lovely…” I replied, shaking my head.

           
“It is what it is, I suppose. But let me put it this way –
I
don’t think
we’re better than the rest of you. Is that better?”

           
I sighed. “What does it matter in the end? You can’t answer my questions.” I
regretted the words as soon as I spoke them. Nathaniel may have felt easy to
speak to but he was still a Pirate all the same - and a high-ranking one at
that.

He
sighed and looked away. “It’s better off this way. You have enough on your
plate, I think, and concerning yourself with Pirate business is not going to do
you any good. Enough about that, though,” he waved his hands before him as
though he could shoo the questions away like stagnant air, “tell me about your
adventures. I want to know what you’ve experienced in the wasteland. Perhaps we
can compare notes?” He grinned once again but it no longer felt genuine.

           
I contemplated telling him my entire story; what it was like the day I left and
the struggles to survive as the days wore on, but my journal now seemed to lay
heavy in my hands. I flipped it open casually and stopped as I saw my father’s
message inscribed inside. I ran my finger across the words one last time,
remembering the dad he once was. My father…the one who used to kiss my bruises
better and tuck me in at night; the one who taught me how to read and write…who
got me into books and taught me how to appreciate the work behind a beautiful
painting; a man who was not afraid to scold me but not afraid to hug me when
all was said and done. Always guiding and protecting me. Where was he now? The
man from the Outpost…would he scoff at these words? The Chester I had found…the
Chester I had found was not my father. I shut the journal tightly and looked up
at Nathaniel.