The Deadlands (PG-13/R)

Episode 1: Pilot (5 - 7)

(Note: I'd like to dedicate this part to Frenchie as a thank you for supporting me and my writing. It's greatly appreciated. I've not finished the episode with this part, due to changing direction slightly, but it will be done with the next part and you should feel that it's winding down now. I'll likely give this part another pass tomorrow, as I just wanted to get this up and available to read. So, if there are rough spots, I'll likely sort them out. Thanks for reading.)

5

John lay still, hatless and with sand covering his entire body, while many zombies paced about the scrap piles he hid by. It had worked for they were totally unaware that a potential meal was so close. And looking up, he saw a near-cloudless sky and the rising sun with the monotonous groans from the zombies only broken up by the occasional sound of a bird passing by overhead.

He needed food and his throat felt raw. He wondered about how long he’d have to remain hidden. Sure, he could chance it, but he wasn’t sure if he’d have the strength to run, therefore rendering him unable to escape the herd around him. He’d fought and fled, fought and fled, never expending any of his precious bullets. Yet Kira was possibly still alive and alone. Did his own life, which would likely be ended before he achieved his suicidal goal, outweigh her life? No, it didn’t. If he was to die, why should he not take the opportunity to try and save another soul before he perished?

However, where would she be? She could be anywhere. The best bet, the way he saw it, was to travel to Haven and hope he found her on the way there. Just then, a gunshot sounded and his thoughts immediately turned to the gun Kira had drawn on him upon their first meeting. He rose from safety, knife in hand, his desire to see Kira safe giving him strength. As the zombies turned to face him, he decided that it was a good day to perhaps die.

6

Forced to look up with her head being yanked back, Kira saw the zombie’s head fly back after she’d pulled her gun’s trigger. Released, she fell back down and the gun clattered to the ground. She cried and scrambled to her feet as two zombies attempted to climb over the wall after her. She stooped to pick up the gun and aimed it at their heads with trembling hands before pulling the trigger. Four thunderous shots later, the zombies were no more, one with its body half-way over the ruined wall and the other lying face-down having made it over.

With tears still streaming, she tucked her gun into the top of her pants and walked over to the corpses to give them a good kick, letting it all out, still feeling every ounce of pain from her hair nearly being pried free alongside every ache in her muscles and loins. It was a wonder that she still had hair. Done, she leaned forwards and put her hands on the ruined wall to catch her breath. Instinct told her to run and not look back, as other foes would have surely heard the gunfire, no matter whether they were close or far away.

With instinct controlling her actions, she pushed her exhausted body onwards. She crossed the wide stretch of nearly barren wasteland and passed by the occasional derelict building, until she came upon the large walls and gates of Haven. Outside the walls were some cars, most non-functional, and as the gates yawned open, she breathed a sigh of relief before she collapsed.

7

Kira slowly opened and shut her eyes. She was lying down on a bed, with a ceiling of earthen origin looming overhead, and a warm, smoke-tinged breeze from a slit in the building’s wall drafted over her. Then she heard a voice.

“Kira, you’re awake!”

She recognised the voice, even in her groggy state. She was home. Within an instant, he reached over and firmly grasped her hand. It was fitting that it was Reese who first realised she was awake. However, she also found herself searching for Griff, their foster father and employer. “Where’s Griff?” She grasped his hand weakly in return.

“Here.” The voice was deep, and she turned her head to see Griff’s bulldozer like form enter the room. His eyes were yellow and his face bore the bestial likeness of the krall like Reese’s face did. “Glad you’re all right, Kira.” He stopped beside her bed and reached over to ruffle her hair.

“What happened, Kira? Where did—”started Reese.                                                                                      

“I . . .” she glanced down and removed her hand from Reese’s grasp, then turned away, reminded of being violated.

“Reese, let her rest a while. She’ll speak when she’s ready.” Griff put a hand on Reese’s shoulder. Then the sound of someone else approaching could be heard and Griff turned to face the newcomer who stood by the doorway. He was a coloured man, fully human, and had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Bishop sent me to speak to the girl.”

Griff turned to face Kira, looked at her then looked at Reese and nodded. “Call if you need us.” They walked away then and Griff looked at the man, known as Victor, who returned the stare and smirked before Griff and Reese left.

“Some of us went out looking for you.” Vic moved closer, stood beside her bed as she sat up and adjusted the pillow behind her. “We were going to go looking for you again tomorrow.”

“Tell Bishop I’m thankful . . .” she said, voice soft.

“You may get a chance to tell him yourself.” He smiled slightly. “How did you survive out there?”

“A man found me . . .” she started, then realised he was possibly still alive and looking for her. “You have to find him.” He’d done much more than most would do for a stranger in this damned world and, even though she told herself that she’d had no choice, she’d left him out there.

“Slow down there, girl. What man?”

“John. His name was John. He was . . . a wanderer. He was skilled, like those Stalkers people tell tales of.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Like a Stalker, eh?”

“Yes . . . if he hadn’t found me, I’d have likely died.” It was then that it twigged why Victor had asked that. Bishop was well known for wanting to recruit the best people as soldiers, scouts and lawmen so that Haven would stay protected.

“Where was it you last saw him?”

“The scrap piles . . . I . . .” she closed her eyes for a moment, “I left him there while I escaped.”

Victor leant over and put his hand on her shoulder gently. She flinched. “Hey, no-one’s going to blame you for running.” He removed his hand then. “What did he look like?”

“Tall, had short, brown hair and was clean shaven. He wore a long coat and had a hat. Atop a hill . . . a krall had raked his face.”

“A krall?” Victor’s eyes widened.

“Just one . . .” said Kira, and glanced away. “He despatched it easily. Used the corpse as bait for the zombies. He said he’d try to find me if we got separated.” She looked back at Victor. “Please find him?”

“We will, girl. You rest easy now, yeah?”

“I’ll . . . try.”

“Good. When we find him, we’ll tell him where you are. Rest well.” He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kira to pray that John would be found and be okay.