text: This is a rough draft of a story I’m writing, the title (as well as everything else tbh) is still a work in progress. It’s heavily inspired from fallout and wasteland. I hope you enjoy! It had been months since the last time Marcus had eaten a decent meal, even longer since he'd had clean water to drink. He has been trying to reach the town of Miami. After many days of traveling he stops at a small town off of highway 441 and begins looking for food, water, and work. He walks across town to the nearest bar and orders some steak and water. As he sits and begins eating he is approached by a stranger with a pistol strapped to his hip and a knife in his hand. “Well well well, look what just stumbled into town. Say boy, got any money on ya?” He looked to be an older man, maybe late forties or fifties, but he didn't look to be more than the usual waster looking to shake money out of a newcomer. “Well I was looking for food, drink and a place to sleep.” Marcus spat on the floor and sat back comfortably “But it looks like i’m going to have to kill and old thief that's past his prime” By the time the old thief and slammed his knife into the table, Marcus already had his gun aimed at the mans head “Listen asshole, i'm gonna give this one chance to walk away before i send your brains all over the roof” The stranger began to chuckle “I like you, boy, you're a dangerous little spitfuck.’ Marcus didn't move “Do you just want to die old man?” “No, but you look like someone who’d be interested in some work. I got a job that drifters like you love. The pays great.” “Im listening” marcus mumbled “Every few weeks or so me and my gang go out and clear the gopher tortoise burrows.” “Gopher tortoise? What the hell kind of name is that?” “It was what they were called before they mutated. Now they’re just big angry bastards. They look like the old pre-war tortoises, but bigger with razor sharp claws. They dig burrows and tunnels around here and go out to hunt in the mornings. The shells on em are bulletproof though, which makes them as valuable as they are dangerous” After a few moments of consideration Marcus lowered his gun and stood up “Alright. I'm in” - Marcus woke up around midnight, threw on his dusty brown shirt, strapped his ramshackle armor plates on, and sat down. He put his hands in his hair “Fuck you're getting old Marcus” He said quietly as we began working the pain from his knee. He got up, grabbed his rifle, an old Mosin Nagant, along with his pistol, a glock twenty three, and headed out the door. He met up with the stranger at the bar they met at earlier that day “So where are we headed?” Marcus asked “Just south of town a bit, shouldn't be anymore than a half an hour walk. The names Jeremiah by the way.” - The moon was high in the sky and the chilly night air rolled by as they arrived at the burrows “Keep quiet, don't wanna let em know we're coming. Ornery old fucks are always in the burrows at night, they only like to come out when the suns up” Said Jeremiah he two men crouched down and looked into what appeared to be a small cave “You say tortoises made this? Shit...” “They ain't just tortoises anymore boy. Now help me set these explosives” The two set a couple bombs around the entrance of the burrows and took one more in “That should do it. It won't keep them back long but it'll take time for them to build this back up. Keep that other bomb handy Marcus, we'll use it to blow a tunnel.” Marcus nodded and readied his rifle as two entered the burrow. It took only moments to find the monstrosities that had made this underground labyrinth. A few yards ahead lay a mutated tortoise the size of a small motorbike with elongated arms tipped with claws the size of bowie knives. “There's. I'll take this one, go set the bomb over by that tunnel and be ready to watch my ass, more are gonna show up the second we start the fireworks” Marcus quietly set the explosive and backed up right as the first shot rang out “Fuck yeah! Run to the entrance boy, we'll lure some out before we blow this place!” The two ran to the exit and were quickly followed by another tortoise “Kill that ugly son of a bitch!” Marcus yelled before beginning to fire shot after shot at the approaching creature. The tortoise knocked Jeremiah to the ground and poised itself for a finishing blow when another round struck it, this one penetrating its skull sending bits of brain and flesh all over the dirt “That one's gonna hurt tomorrow..” Jeremiah raggedly groaned “Come on, you're not that hurt. Let's get the shell off this thing and let's go” Marcus reached down and helped Jeremiah up and the two removed the shell from the tortoise before heading back into town for the night. - Marcus began gathering his things before heading out. He had eared one hundred and fifty dollars for his job with Jeremiah and used half of it on supplies for his journey. Right as he reached the city gate a voice stopped him “Hey, I wanted to thank you for the save last night and apologize for trying to rob you. I know I can be a bit of an asshole but I appreciate it. Take this, it’s an armor plate I made out of a chunk of those shells we sold that...fell back into my possession.” Marcus took the armor plate and replaced his with it “Fits good, thanks.” “It’s the least I can do. Don’t go and die out there” Marcus nodded and walked out the gate. - The sound of gunfire broke Marcus from his slumber and sent him diving for his gun. He grabbed it and scrambled to a nearby concrete wall trying to get his bearings. He was hunkered behind a low concrete wall right off the highway where he was camped. The gunfire was coming from the opposite side of the highway and seemed directed toward him. He quickly poked out his head to see who was firing before ducking back behind the wall “Fucking mutes” Marcus mumbled and thought of a plan The mutes where a group of horribly disfigured mutants that were made by the initial blast, or from living in dead zones, highly irradiated areas. They were usually pretty dumb and the ones that can speak are barely able to form basic sentences. Marcus quickly popped out from behind cover and fired three shots from his pistol, two of which struck an advancing mute directly in the chest, but it barely slowed it down. He made a dash for his campsite, quickly grabbing his rifle and running to some adjacent rubble. While I was running he saw his opposition, three mutes and a large crate they were carrying, there was also a dead mute and a pack dead brainless, the other main mutation that affected humans that basically transforms the victim into mindless zombies. The small battlefield behind his attackers seemed to be what had woke Marcus before they changed focus to them. Marcus quickly fired a shot at a mutes head, but his aim drifted and it struck it in the shoulder. He cursed to himself as the mute recoiled in pain “Die die die!” one mutant chanted as they all continued their slow advance “Kill! Kill him!” Marcus peeked and fired, striking the speaker in the throat, sending him onto the ground gurgling blood and dying. He took this small moment of no incoming fire to send another round into a second ones forehead. The final mute was infuriated by the loss of his brothers and charged directly at Marcus, letting out an awful, wet groan with his approach. The hulking abomination tackled Marcus, sending the two of them flying back into the rubble. The creature raised its massive arms and swung them down at Marcus’s head, a blow he narrowly avoided. He struggled to grab his pistol and quickly fired eight shots into his attackers head, killing it. Marcus groaned in pain and slowly stood up. He reloaded his guns and limped to the crate “Fucking assholes, supplies had better be worth it.” Marcus mumbled to himself as he approached the box “Hello? Is someone there?” He stopped dead in his tracks, the voice came from in the crate. Marcus slowly steadied his rifle and began approaching the crate. “Hello? Anyone?” the voice called out, it was a deep raspy voice, almost inhuman “Who's in there?” Marcus asked “Please let me out! I'll tell you everything just don't shoot me!” Against his better judgement Marcus opened the crate, inside was a seven and a half foot mute. He was a pinkish color with blue veins clearly poking out of his skin, he had a bald head and a large gash in his chest. Marcus pointed his rifle at the creature “Wait! Don't shoot! My names Sam. Those bastards locked me up for being different. But..you killed them. Am I free?” Marcus stoop there, dumbfounded. The rare mutes capable of saying select few words were known as speakers, they usually led the other mutes in small groups. But there stood a mute, plain as day speaking perfect English “How in the hell are you talking? You say they locked you up because you're different, because you can talk?” “I don't know..my changes were only physical. I was kicked out and shot at by every town I went in, so I went to the mutes. I didn't speak at first, just quietly followed, but they just kept killing everyone they came across, I got sick of it. It was senseless. I tried talking to our speaker, I had hoped there would be enough of him left to understand, but no. After I started talking he stabbed me and threw me in this crate. Now I'm here, and they're all dead.” Marcus lowered his gun. “I..I'm sorry to hear that.” Marcus turned around and began walking. “Good luck. Be safe out here.” Sam stood there, looking at his savior. “Hey, wait! I didn't get your name.” He looked back. “My names Marcus.” Sam watched as Marcus walked off into the distance “Thank you, Marcus.” - A week had passed since Marcus had encountered Sam but something about his story didn’t sit right with him. If the mutes had wanted him dead for being intelligent then why didn't they just kill him outright? Why go through the trouble of caging him and taking him somewhere else to do it? There had to be a reason, and Marcus was going to find out.