Alive: The Walker in the dust: Book 2

They named it before it fell, when it was still a star in the evening sky, among so many others.  So many people died.  And for many generations afterwards people survived and bore children…  Babies underground, babies in vaults, babies in caves, babies near trash, babies eating trash…  And living.  And the world was eventually…  It’s still destroyed.  But where this certain bomb fell, the place had become something else.

They gave it a name before it fell.  “Wormwood,” They said it as the bright dot in the sky got closer and closer to all the other bright dots, as they entered the atmosphere.  It was worse than the others.  Strange things happen now, in the place where it fell.  A rift in reality itself, if you can call it that.  If this wasteland is reality anymore, or purgatory, or a sick god’s cruel joke, I’m not sure.  But it’s there.  They call it the edge of the wasteland.  It’s there, but it’s not like Earth anymore.  They say the souls of the dead get stuck there and can’t find peace.

I’ve seen it.  Sure I’ve seen it, but do you really want to know?  I experienced things there that I can never understand.  The bitter taste in my mouth, the rolling rocks that move of their own accord... Gravitational anomalies that can rip a man to shreds, and gateways into other dimensions.  The spitting cactus, with its poison needles.  The snow flies, and their sickly smell, and the flesh eating blobs.   Or should I try to describe the wailing of the dead?

They say all the radiation in the wasteland comes from there.   The place belches it out, continually poisoning the earth with rads.  How did I survive?  The giant scorpions were the key… Their venom is like a natural rad-b-gone.  They’re around, they’re always around.  I’ll give you a hint.  Don’t try to run.  The scorpids hate it when you run.