episode one: Helo, Scavenger.

It wasn't the sound of treading feet that woke me up; I think that was in my dreams. I woke up to the sound of rushing water filtering into my ears.
I opened my eyes slowly, squinting at the blinding yellow sun, and clutched my head tightly as a sharp pain bolted through it.
My jaw hurt and the scorching heat of the sun made my skin feel raw.
I got up on my knees, clutching the dry, sun baked earth, and thinking about that rushing water. My eyes trailed from the brown earth, watching the cracks and then looking around me. There was no rushing water, just more dry earth.
I got up to my feet and placed my palm over my forehead, shielding my eyes from the sun's sharp rays.
There was no water, and no trees. I raised my head and looked up into the sky; a cloudless sky.
Where am I? I thought to myself. I tried to think, tried to remember and then that sharp pain shot through my head again. I shook my head and decided not to think at that moment.
Shifting my feet on the dry earth, and raising up a thin cloud of yellow dust, I walked a few feet away from where I stood.
I squinted my eyes, cursing the sun, and wishing I could feel the moisture of my sweat. I arched my back and stood upright; that was when I saw a crooked, black tree which shot upright in the middle of this desolate place. Wherever this place was.
I ran up to the tree and leaned my back against it, aligning myself with the thin shadow that fell from the tree, breathing hard and happy at the slight relief. Any shade was useful shade at the moment.
After a few minutes of inhaling the thin air with my eyes closed, I felt a bit stronger.
I ran my hand through my short hair, hoping for moisture, and then rubbed it over my left arm.
I felt a strange sensation on my left arm, a slight roughness or maybe bumps.
I shifted out of the shade and held my hand into the sun. My dark skin glistened slightly and then a tattoo became visible.
I looked around me, I still had no idea where I was or who I was, my head felt heavy and my memory jarred. So, I was confused as to what this strange tattoo meant.
The marking was made in some sort of dark ink, darker than my skin and it spread wide from my wrist to the edge of my elbow joint.
The markings seemed to get more visible with the light so I stood even farther away from the tree, one right hand gripping my left arm tightly.
The tattoo spelt out four letters: A.D.A.M, ADAM.
Was that my name? Adam.
I willed myself to think, edging my mind to dig back into my memory, but that sharp pain acted as a wall.
I was still wondering what to do when I heard a low rumbling sound coming from behind me. I quickly turned around, curious, and I saw a cloud of dust rushing towards me.
I stepped back a bit, squinting my eyes and trying to catch a glimpse of what is was.
As the rumbling noise grew louder, it became accompanied by some sort of engine noise. I stood back and watched a rickety, rusty motorcycle cough to a stop by me.
The engine bucked, and spluttered and then it died down. I took my eyes from the rusty contraption and looked at it's rider.
I was staring at a very thin man with a completely bald head. He had a hideous scar that covered his left cheek and rough uneven stubble all across his chin. He wore only a torn green leather jacket and brown khaki pants. He was dark skinned and his arms glistened with sweat.
I stepped back, watching this man curiously as he got out of the motorcycle. I could certainly take him in a fight if he tried any funny moves, I concluded.
The thin man walked briskly towards me, eyeing me just as keenly and curiously as I was observing him. Except, his eyes were brown and dancing; those kind of vibrant, shifty eyes you see in quick witted people.
"What are you doing out here in the widelands, boy?" He asked and I couldn't help but notice that the word 'boy' came off as 'buoy'.
The widelands? Was that what this place was?
I didn't answer him, I just kept on watching him closely. His fists were wrapped in a brown what-used-to-be-white cloth.
"Didn't ya hear me, boy?" He asked, glaring at me and almost bumping into me. He had surprisingly white teeth.
"I don't know." I said, and I meant it.
He was about to say something again when heavy thudding sounds filled the air. He turned around and I heard him curse and say something like 'how did they find me?'
"You better not be out here, boy!" He said and began rushing back to his bike.
I turned to where the loud thudding was coming from and I saw two strange things; maybe they were both the same.
The first thing I saw was what looked like three horses with riders on them. Dark horses and they were riding fast towards us. That was the source of the thudding sound I suppose.
Second, I noticed the cloud coming behind them; more like following them.
The sky was cloudless, but behind these three horsemen were dark blue clouds, storm angry clouds and they moved as rapidly as the riders.
"Don't just stand there, boy, hop in!" The thin man shouted.
By now the gust of wind from the dark clouds were now blowing over my face. My arm, the one with the tattoo hurt and I had to grip it firmly and run towards the bike.
The thin man was already moving when I hopped on. The motorcycle was incredibly fast for a rusty junk. It whizzed loudly and sputtered black smoke.
"Do you know how to use a gun, boy?" He asked.
"What?" I was about to ask when he suddenly shoved an equally rusty and heavy looking metal thing into my hand. Gun, gun, the words kept ringing in my head and I suddenly got flashes of images; people screaming and gun shots.
Again, without waiting for me to say anything, he stretched his right hand over the side of my face and a loud bang went off as he fired a shot towards the riders.
I winced loudly, my ears humming from the shot and I turned just in time to see one of riders fall off in a cloud of dust.
"Ha ha, maggots!" The thin man yelled, "now, shoot!" He ordered me.
He somehow managed to steay the motorcycle with one hand.
I'd seen him pull the trigger, so I gripped the metal thing tight, holding the back fender of the bike and turning to face the riders.
I steadied my shaky hand(shaky from the rough motion of the motorcycle against the dry earth) and squeezed the tight trigger.
I felt myself kick back as I fired the shot, grunting as my back hit the dry ground with a thud. I rolled in a cloud of dust and then suddenly stopped.
I tried to get up but I couldn't, my arm hurt bad and my head spun.
I heard the riders circle around me, the dust almost suffocating me and the dark clouds hovering around us. I also heard the sound of the motorcycle turn around, followed by four rapid shots.
From where I lay, I saw the riders shriek and shrivel off into a mass of black smoke. In a matter of moments, the sky was clear.
I heard the sound of boots, slow crunching noises, and then I saw the thin man squat close to me, white smoke emitting from the barrel of his gun. He grunted, gritting his white teeth.
"They call me the scavenger, boy." He said, and looked away, "and now you owe me your life."

Good...
This is excellent.

nijabazaar:
Good...

This is excellent.

Thanks, I hoped so.

EPISODE TWO:


 Spine tingling screams, loud cracking gun shots, and the loud roars of diesel engines. I lay on the ground, the confusion around me a blurry haze. "Look, there's one!" I heard a man say and then I heard thudding of boots and the cracking of a rifle as it was cocked. As the sounds drew nearer, I suddenly gasped and opened my eyes. My chest rose and fell with each breath I took. I blinked my eyes rapidly, glad that the sun was not on my face. Wait, where am I? I thought and bolted upright from where I lay. I felt a sharp pain on my arm, and looked at the dirty white cast that bulged around it. "Relax, boy, you're arm is broken." A familiar voice. I turned to where the voice had come from; right in the far corner of what looked like a tent, I saw him. Yes, I remember, the thin man who called himself the scavenger. I looked around the tent; it was small, irregular and must have been made hurriedly. There was a small camp lamp hanging from a post that held the tent in the middle. The lamp brightened up the tent, but just enough. Moonlight escaped into the tent from a small slit at the entrance. "What sort of fellow doesn't know how to use a gun and finds himself in the widelands?" The Scavenger chuckled, he was hunched over a bristling pot steaming over a small rectangular platform. I sat up, wincing at the pain in my arm and trying to get my thoughts straight. "Thank you." I said, not exactly sure what for but remembering I had nearly died a few hours ago. Had it been that long? The Scavenger got up, the tent being just big enough for him to stand to his full height, and he walked up to me, metal jingling in his pockets, a long iron spoon in his hands. "What are you thanking me for?" He scoffed, a little too seriously. I thought he was being hostile, I couldn't answer. "You owe me your life, boy, remember?" He said, and smiled. Those teeth. He was bare chested, without a shirt, a bag of bones he was and he had a white necklace around his neck. He followed my gaze and touched the glowing purple stone attached to the necklace. "You know what this is, boy?"He asked. I shook my head, watching the purple stone glow and flicker. "This, boy," he paused, "What's your name, boy?" "I–Adam." I blurted out, remembering the tattoo. "Well, Adam, this necklace was the reason why them nightmares were after me." "Night mares?" I asked. He shook his shoulders, "Them horse riders. Nightmares, they call them." He then screwed his eyes and watched me closely, "Where are you from, Adam?" I sincerely hoped I could answer that, I also needed to know the answer to that question. "I don't know." I said. I could tell he didn't believe me. He shrugged. I heard a whistling sound coming from the pot. I suddenly became aware of the aroma of boiling meat and vegetables hitting my nose, I was hungry. My throat bobbed at the thought of food. "Hungry?" He said, watching me with amused eyes. "Yes, please." I said, rubbing my face and touching the beard growing beneath my chin. I watched the scavenger take out a brown leather bag and rummage through it. I could hear metals clanging as he shifted his hand through the bag. He retrieved a small wooden bowl and blew air into it. He then proceeded to open the pot, white steam covering his face and brisk sound of boiling filled the tent. I watched him scoop some broth from the pot, his lips hanging loose from the smoke covering his, and then he stretched his hand towards me. The tent was small so I could easily lean in and reach my hand to grab the bowl. "Use both hands, " he cautioned, "or you'll get blisters." I did as he told me. The broth was a rich smelling, sizzling thick mix of dark green vegetables and thick square pieces of light pink meat. It tasted just as good as it looked. My right arm was wrapped in a cast so I was stuck with my left. Luckily, holding a spoon with my left hand came naturally. The brisk noise of the pot reduced as he placed a lid over it and pushed it aside. He sat opposite me, a similar bowl in his hand and he hate noisily. "What's that you got there?" He asked, pointing at my left arm. I stopped eating, still chewing a piece of meat between my teeth. My gaze shifted to my left arm. "It's – a tattoo." I said. He placed his bowl aside lightly and reached for my arm. "It spells your name." He said, looking at me curiously. "I–yes.." I stuttered, my mouth open with nothing else to say. "Where are you from, Adam?" He said the name with a different tone; a harsher tone. "I have no idea, I swear." I said, gulping down the meat in my mouth. The scavenger rose up and began to walk out of the tent. He turned to me before he left. "Finish you food, boy, you don't want it to get cold." Later that night, possibly hours later, I opened my eyes when I heard the humming of something; a small radio, perhaps. I lay still, listening. I could make out the dull outline of the scavenger backing me, in a hunched position, he had something to his ears. The lamp gave out a tiny glow, and ever so slightly a rush of cold air would blow across it. ...."Adam, yes." I heard his muffled voice, "interesting, okay. Thanks." And I heard a clicking sound as the humming radio became silent. I quickly shot my eyes partially as I watched him stare at me for a long time, the purple stone giving his face a dark gleam.

Chukswrites:
EPISODE TWO:


 Spine tingling screams, loud cracking gun shots, and the loud roars of diesel engines. I lay on the ground, the confusion around me a blurry haze. "Look, there's one!" I heard a man say and then I heard thudding of boots and the cracking of a rifle as it was cocked. As the sounds drew nearer, I suddenly gasped and opened my eyes. My chest rose and fell with each breath I took. I blinked my eyes rapidly, glad that the sun was not on my face. Wait, where am I? I thought and bolted upright from where I lay. I felt a sharp pain on my arm, and looked at the dirty white cast that bulged around it. "Relax, boy, you're arm is broken." A familiar voice. I turned to where the voice had come from; right in the far corner of what looked like a tent, I saw him. Yes, I remember, the thin man who called himself the scavenger. I looked around the tent; it was small, irregular and must have been made hurriedly. There was a small camp lamp hanging from a post that held the tent in the middle. The lamp brightened up the tent, but just enough. Moonlight escaped into the tent from a small slit at the entrance. "What sort of fellow doesn't know how to use a gun and finds himself in the widelands?" The Scavenger chuckled, he was hunched over a bristling pot steaming over a small rectangular platform. I sat up, wincing at the pain in my arm and trying to get my thoughts straight. "Thank you." I said, not exactly sure what for but remembering I had nearly died a few hours ago. Had it been that long? The Scavenger got up, the tent being just big enough for him to stand to his full height, and he walked up to me, metal jingling in his pockets, a long iron spoon in his hands. "What are you thanking me for?" He scoffed, a little too seriously. I thought he was being hostile, I couldn't answer. "You owe me your life, boy, remember?" He said, and smiled. Those teeth. He was bare chested, without a shirt, a bag of bones he was and he had a white necklace around his neck. He followed my gaze and touched the glowing purple stone attached to the necklace. "You know what this is, boy?"He asked. I shook my head, watching the purple stone glow and flicker. "This, boy," he paused, "What's your name, boy?" "I–Adam." I blurted out, remembering the tattoo. "Well, Adam, this necklace was the reason why them nightmares were after me." "Night mares?" I asked. He shook his shoulders, "Them horse riders. Nightmares, they call them." He then screwed his eyes and watched me closely, "Where are you from, Adam?" I sincerely hoped I could answer that, I also needed to know the answer to that question. "I don't know." I said. I could tell he didn't believe me. He shrugged. I heard a whistling sound coming from the pot. I suddenly became aware of the aroma of boiling meat and vegetables hitting my nose, I was hungry. My throat bobbed at the thought of food. "Hungry?" He said, watching me with amused eyes. "Yes, please." I said, rubbing my face and touching the beard growing beneath my chin. I watched the scavenger take out a brown leather bag and rummage through it. I could hear metals clanging as he shifted his hand through the bag. He retrieved a small wooden bowl and blew air into it. He then proceeded to open the pot, white steam covering his face and brisk sound of boiling filled the tent. I watched him scoop some broth from the pot, his lips hanging loose from the smoke covering his, and then he stretched his hand towards me. The tent was small so I could easily lean in and reach my hand to grab the bowl. "Use both hands, " he cautioned, "or you'll get blisters." I did as he told me. The broth was a rich smelling, sizzling thick mix of dark green vegetables and thick square pieces of light pink meat. It tasted just as good as it looked. My right arm was wrapped in a cast so I was stuck with my left. Luckily, holding a spoon with my left hand came naturally. The brisk noise of the pot reduced as he placed a lid over it and pushed it aside. He sat opposite me, a similar bowl in his hand and he hate noisily. "What's that you got there?" He asked, pointing at my left arm. I stopped eating, still chewing a piece of meat between my teeth. My gaze shifted to my left arm. "It's – a tattoo." I said. He placed his bowl aside lightly and reached for my arm. "It spells your name." He said, looking at me curiously. "I–yes.." I stuttered, my mouth open with nothing else to say. "Where are you from, Adam?" He said the name with a different tone; a harsher tone. "I have no idea, I swear." I said, gulping down the meat in my mouth. The scavenger rose up and began to walk out of the tent. He turned to me before he left. "Finish you food, boy, you don't want it to get cold." Later that night, possibly hours later, I opened my eyes when I heard the humming of something; a small radio, perhaps. I lay still, listening. I could make out the dull outline of the scavenger backing me, in a hunched position, he had something to his ears. The lamp gave out a tiny glow, and ever so slightly a rush of cold air would blow across it. ...."Adam, yes." I heard his muffled voice, "interesting, okay. Thanks." And I heard a clicking sound as the humming radio became silent. I quickly shot my eyes partially as I watched him stare at me for a long time, the purple stone giving his face a dark gleam.

This is an amazing story so what follows