Chapter 3: Sentenced

They had sentenced me to being flayed to death.

I grip the bars of the cage and hang on my arms.

How long would they keep me here, waiting? And for what?

I had broken the law of the wasteland.

There is only one law in anarchy,

"do no harm."

I had killed her, yes, but I had saved her from suffering.

The guard looks at me with red swollen, cataract eyes.

Once, he and I had been friends.

We had scavenged together, laughed together.

We had found tech together, cried together.

He's sunblind now. Always hated wearing goggles.

"Don't cry old friend"

My eyes are stinging. At least there is water here,

In oasis.

But the laws of men are harsh and unloving.

What goodness is fulfilled by punishing an honest heart?

I had told my story about the girl I murdered last night at the firepit. I felt like I had done the right thing.

What do we do when the laws of men fail?

I look out from the bars at the glinting sun.

I am no criminal. I am a good man.

In the dark of night he releases me.

He says, "go to the wastes and don't come back. Oasis is no place for you. Civilized folk.. They don't understand the wanderers, the hard choices we make between death and worse death. You can't come back here again."

He gives me a .22 pistol and a few shells.

I hug him and look out into the night.

Where would I go? How would I survive? I have no equipment. All my years of gathering tech, wasted. Taken from me by the lawman.

But I knew already. The radscorpions would take care of me.

It was the less worse death than being flayed alive by the 'civilized folk'.

He saved me in his own way. The wastelander way.

I go out into the night and as I stumble forward I listen for the tell tale chittering of the giant scorpions.

The scorpions would at least kill me mercifully.

But if I can make it a few miles, just a few more steps.. I might survive the night.

Welcome to the wasteland.