Beyond Rules Reach

Pain is the first thing to hit me, a searing pain in my head. As I begin to regain consciousness I can feel the cold ground beneath me. I try to picture how I got here, but my memory fails. Taking a quick mental check it doesn't seem to be that any of my bones are broken, though there is a strange throbbing pain on my left forearm. I’d almost call this a miracle, but these days no one believes in those anymore. I slowly open my eyes and the night sky becomes more clear.

The city lights have all but disappeared causing the stars to burst forth in the night sky, it is what would have once been described as beautiful, but alas any feelings that beauty could once invoke have long been forgotten.

Despite the bright stars, this world is a dark place. Fear is our constant companion. A number of years ago, no one’s quite sure how long, all law enforcement was disbanded, no one can recall the scenario surrounding this but that’s how the story goes. At first it was a joyous day, then within the hour the looting started. People realized that with no one to hold them to the law they could push the bounds of what was once considered “right.” Not long after the lootings people became accustomed to getting what they wanted for free. Murder rates were off the charts, and the populations of big cities were halved within a week, whether because they were killed off or they fled to try and escape the onslaught.

No one knew who to trust , and your neighbor was more likely to kill you than bring over a casserole.

The government tried to contain the chaos, however people can be quite a formidable force when they want, and a mini war broke out, in the end with no one to enforce the government's policies it was overthrown.

Small groups started to form, clans they’re sometimes referred to, people would group together to increase their odds of survival. A lone wolf has almost no chance when everyone does what’s right in their own eyes. With how bad it got it's a wonder people didn’t start eating each other right away. The slave trade that had been going on for so long underground rose to the surface, and if you could overpower someone they would become your property.

I get up from the ground and shake myself off. Judging from the pain in my head it appears I was knocked out. I look around and am taken aback, it’s a little hard to make out in the light of the stars but all I see surrounding me are pools of glistening red. I know instantly it’s blood. I don’t waste my time trying to search for survivors among the huts, they’ve all been burned, anything useful looted. It was a night raid and my clan was caught unawares. I vomit, and then take a quick look around. It’s possible the looters forgot or overlooked something. I wonder how they managed to overlook me. I pat myself down, I’ve still got my hunting knife strapped to my left thigh, and a pistol in my ankle holster. I stick my hand in my right pocket and pull out a piece of paper, there's 3 small words written on it, “Come find me.” Not sure what to make of this I stuff the paper back into my pocket. I remember the strange sensation on the inner part of my left forearm, like a wound or a burn. I look down and am surprised to find a fresh tattoo, ink still slightly smeared and bleeding, I wipe away the blood and dirt, it’s a little hard to make out, but I see the tattoo is of a locket in the shape of a heart. These looters had some sick sense of humor. If they thought I was alive, why not kill me like the others, or take me for food or the slave trade? If they thought I was dead, why spend the time practicing your drawing skills on a corpse? Maybe this meant something, I shook that thought from my head. Nothing means anything anymore.

I scrounge what food I can, mostly some dry bread and a couple skins of water. I don’t look for the bodies of my fallen comrades, no one would leave that much good meat lying around to rot.

I look around and figure the looters must have brought carts with them, there's no way they’d be carrying off our whole clan by hand. Most likely the carts would be pulled by horses, though there’s always the possibility they used slaves. I see that most of the blood smears lead East, and there's a number of large pools left where the bodies sat piled on the carts, I follow these down the road.

No one drives anymore, in the days following the breakdown of the law there were so many car crashes and pile ups that just being on the road was to put yourself in danger.

I make my way to the nearest town, I’ve got to keep my ear to the ground for any news about who might have done this, not to mention anything that might bring a bit of clarity to the tattoo.

I stumbled around for a couple days, not coming up with much. I’d do a bit of work here and there for clans based in the city or for the bartenders, who have a sort of clan of their own. Months go by and I pick up a snippet here or there, until I finally get the full story of what happened to my clan. It wasn’t a random attack, they were the Ground Snatchers. A while back I was part of a group from my clan that did a hit on them, we hit them hard reducing their food stock to almost nothing. It was retaliation and nothing more. You might expect me to be angry, or want vengeance, but that’s just how the world works now. There is no right or wrong, you do what seems best to you, and what will benefit you the most in the moment.

There were still two lingering questions I had though. Why was I left alive, and what is with this random tattoo? From the fragments of stories I'd gathered through my travels, something had interrupted the raid, or rather someone. My best guess is they were hoping to get in on the action, and the looters cleared out before anyone could tag along.

Hanging out in the bars provides the best source of information, and I can get it without even trying. Some loud mouth has a bit too much to drink and starts spilling his guts about his whole life, though I tell you say too much about the wrong guy and he’ll spill your guts for you.

On this particular night my ears perked as I overheard a shouting match between two rough looking guys, one was yelling about some girl, he said he wanted her but she wasn’t having any of it. He tried to grab her but she sliced off his ear, causing him to let go of her necklace, a locket in the shape of a heart. He says she took off down East West street. I jumped up and ran out the door before the bartender noticed I’d gone, I left some jerky and a few coins to compensate for my drink.

East West street is just a block away and I get there in mere seconds, it’s completely abandoned, I kick the wall in frustration, and yell as pain shoots up my foot. I look up and see a ladder, feeling it won't cause any harm. I jump and pull myself up. I climb to the top of the flat roof and see a small encampment of makeshift tents. I walk over to them, there's about a half dozen people standing around a barrel fire. “I’m looking for a girl with a heart locket” I say to no one in particular. There is no sign that anyone heard me. I shrug and slump over to the fire. It's a crisp night and I might as well warm myself for a while. I’m not there for 5 minutes when a hand emerges from the tent behind me and I’m dragged inside.

I’m tossed to the ground and there’s a knife in my throat. “Why are you looking for the heart shaped locket?” The words are whispered in my ear.

“I have a tattoo that matches your locket” I say back calmly. She shifts slightly taken aback and then says “show me.”

I hold up my left arm for her to examine. Satisfied she gets off and allows me to sit up.

As she begins her story I get a strange feeling of unease, but she's between me and the tent opening. I have my knife if it comes to a fight, but for now my curiosity stays me.

A while back she was out gathering supplies for her clan, she was on her way back when she noticed the smoke, dropping the goods she had managed to scrounge up she ran back.

She didn’t need to describe the scene to me, I had witnessed the same thing first hand.

She said she came across my clan being raided, but she was too late to be of much use.

She saw my body lying on the outskirts and just managed to drag me off to safety before the raiders started their second sweep.

She said it looked like they sent in gas first and then charged in, I was probably lucky and only got the blunt end of an axe which is why I wasn’t killed instantly.

She knew she couldn’t stay until I became conscious, she’d be a sitting duck out in the open but she also wanted to give me some way of finding her, so she took the time to quickly tattoo her locket onto my arm, with a needle and some ink from a pen she had on her.

She finishes her story and I sit there for a few moments. It's still not clear to me why she would take the time to mark me with the tattoo, but she’s not elaborating.

I go to get up and a devilish smile crosses her lips. Quick as lightning I’m on the ground again, pain sears through my chest and I look down to see the hilt of a knife sticking out of it. “Why” is all I manage to breathe.

She opens the locket and I see two pictures, to my surprise I recognize them. I don’t remember everyone my clan’s ever killed but for some reason these two stick in my mind.

“We grew up together,” she says, “we had each other's backs, and I wasn’t there the day you took them, but I’m here now. I wanted you to be forever marked as a reminder of them.”

Air isn’t coming easily to my lungs and every breath is agony, but curiosity keeps me conscious, “why not kill..” I can’t get any more words out, but she seems to get the meaning. “I wanted to see the life leave your eyes, those cold eyes that murdered and took for food the closest thing I had to family. I saw some scouts coming to check on the wreckage so I stuffed you out of the way and took off.”

I feel the cold creeping in, and everything goes dead quiet, the edges of my vision begin to darken. And just before the cold, the dark and the silence take me over, I am overwhelmed by a sense of peace. Peace that has long eluded me, and I trade my constant companion in for blissful Peace.