Blood Money: The B*****d's Wall

A Story by brian_navarro

The third in the Blood Money series

Standing nearly a mile up, on a wall that encircled what used to be New York City, scared the s**t out of Tommy. If it was left up to him, he’d be on solid ground walking the beat, not up here on some metal platform, eyeing the muck of the world through last century viewfinders.

But that wasn’t his call. He was a watcher. The people who scout for trouble coming miles away, land or air. All newcomers start at the top of the Wall and work their way down. You have to go up to go down, Tommy remembered reading from a book he once traded a meal for. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but then again, he was a b*****d�"born to no family and no debt�"and had no real claim to the world.

“See anything?” called out Sarah, Tommy’s frequent hookup, and sector partner on the Wall. Tommy remained fixed to the eyepiece.

“Come on man, don’t do that,” he then mumbled, eyeing the entrance to the alley way at the end of the block, watching an average built man, fair skin and dark brown hair, exit in a hurry with heavy black smoke rising behind him, accompanied by narrow glows of blue and red. Sarah stepped away from her post and over to Tommy, a few yards down wind.

“Hey, I said�"”

“�"No, not a baby,” Tommy suddenly shouted.

Sarah then rushed back to her viewfinder, dreadlocks dancing across her shoulders in haste, with one hand on her radio and the other grasping for the eyepiece. “S**t, they’re using babies again!” Tommy pulled back.

“Oh, no no no. I only meant I saw a man carrying a baby.” He then went to cradle his arms together. “You know, like this.” Afterwards, his arms fell to his sides in relief. “Just felt bad, you know, thought he might make a run for the Wall. Luckily, he didn’t.” He then ran his small hands through the sandy ringlets on top and let out a breathy sigh.

Both of them knew not a week goes by when someone isn’t rushing the Wall, usually half starved and hoping for leniency, but always denied entry after debt shows up on their name. Old World Debt they call it. But, those poor souls never make it further than several hundred yards before the announcers�"ones born with a loud, commanding voice�"proclaim This is a restricted zone. Present your identification and stay behind the yellow line. At which time, the Vigils rush on them and check them for weapons and their debt status, beyond the yellow line.

This is a line better known as the kill line. Cross it without an escort and die instantly, and is also from where bombs can explode without any danger to the estates beyond it. B******s may not have any family to speak of or wisdom to share, but they didn’t have debt either.

Sarah then sighed, her thin dark fingers playing with her dreads. Tommy knew that babies were a sore subject for her. In fact, for most women these days it is since a lot of them turn out to be infertile.

For a time, most of the Earth was irradiated. When the bombs had dropped at the red of dawn in 2027, every nation began to burn. Large or small didn’t matter. World War three had rolled up in its fancy, gadgetry ensemble and wrecked everything. What was left was one billion from eight, all scattered across the nations that remained standing. Some places, like New York, built a wall to contain the plagues and the terrorism blamed for igniting the war, hoping to seed a paradise outside the devil’s lair. And everyone at the Wall was responsible for making sure no one gets into paradise unless they’ve paid their dues.

Tommy watched with damp eyes the man until the next block, the image of the newborn tucked away in the sweatshirt likely to linger long after. They don’t deserve this, no one does. He knew that there was still good people out there, but he was only a watcher.

Tommy then pulled back from the ledge and into Sarah’s arms, and found himself not wanting to let go of her as their hearts harmonized, both of them hoping one day there would be a third to beat alongside theirs.

“Tommy!” someone then shouted from behind, ending the sweet embrace. He then pulled back from Sarah, whose fingers tangled about his own.

“Sorry,” he whispered, reluctantly slipping away from her grasp. He then hurried over to the bunker, a round edged square structure of concrete several yards away. At the entrance to it, a lean, sharp�"faced man stood tensely waiting for him. Oh, this can’t be good.

Leon was Tommy’s closest friend on the Wall, along with being the Bunk Master, the person responsible for setting the Watcher positions on the Wall. He also happens to be Sarah’s big brother.

“What’s up Leon?” Tommy asked nervously, adding a full salute instead of doing their normal fist bump given the Captain’s serious expression.

“Commander Dachon wants to see you right away.”

Tommy’s heart sank. Did HQ find out about me and Sarah? He wondered, eyes shifting to the ground considering fraternization within sections was always frowned upon. When the Captain noticed his friend’s worry, he leaned forward and clasped Tommy’s shoulder with his left hand.

“Don’t worry. It’s not that,” Leon assured him before pulling back.“But you better hurry. I think you’re going down . . .” Leon then broke out a little dance number, and added with pizazz“ . . . to the ground.” Tommy just laughed.

“I thought black�"”

“�"Don’t even say it. I got moves you can’t even comprehend, buddy.”

The both of them chuckled as Tommy shook his head, partially regretting giving his friend a collection of old discs he found from an artist called Michael Jackson. Some days, they spent whole nights listening to his music.

“I really needed that, bro,” Tommy said, feeling more lively. Leon smiled, and after a quick fist bump, saw his friend past before returning to his post.

Tommy continued on to the cage at the rear of the bunker where he cautiously stepped into the rusty metal box there, which hardly looked fit to carry people up and down a mile high wall. Worse yet, it used electricity only for going up because power was scarce, most of the allowance going to the estates beyond it.

Here comes the fun part, fretted Tommy, grabbing ahold of the overhead bar with one hand before pulling down the middle lever, off to his right, with the other. A moment later, he felt like the floor had dropped out beneath him, the cage shaking as it plummeted into a free fall down the shaft where a whistling sound was the only thing he heard for the next thirty seconds. A half mile later, a loud bang shook the cage as it came to a dead stop, which nearly caused him to throw up breakfast. Good god, I hate that part, he thought as the doors opened up.

“Sergeant, good, you’re here,” said Dachon, a man with a broad face and narrow eyes, standing at the far end of the room where a hint of red across his olive complexion suggested he was not having a great day. S**t! This is bad.

Tommy nodded and then nervously approached the commander who stood in front of more than a dozen screens, set up like a television studio booth from when those used to exist. A soft white glow radiated off them in the darkened room as images cycled through to frequently highlight the different zones in sector ten. In total, there were five zones, one per block, with several angles captured for each.

“I’m going to get to the point,” said Dachon, which Tommy suspected was not at all true and more than likely, the beginning of another life lesson. He was famous for it, often quoting proverbs he’d learned growing up.

Commander Dachon was from overseas, part of the US�"China exchange of services deal to rebuild the world, and hadn’t been home in years. So, he often reminisced, sharing stories and proverbs from his homeland, before the war, with anyone who would listen and was quite long winded about it. But that also made him just about the friendliest person on the Wall.

Dachon’s hand next came to Tommy’s shoulder on seeing him nervous, drawing him closer. “Son, you’ve got a great pair of eyes there, like a bald eagle, and I need them out on the field,” he finished saying, pointing to Tommy like something from an old world recruitment poster. I want YOU! Tommy suddenly remembered from a poster he saw hanging up in the cabins.

Tommy’s heart sank then a second time that day. S**t, a spotter? He knew he should have felt honored, even relieved, given him and Sarah could openly see each other. But, a spotter’s job was dangerous�"they’re often first targeted�"and being one meant less time with her while out there in the downtown area, responsible for seeing the unseen to make sure the Vigils don’t get taken by surprise. Sure, he wanted it someday, but just not today, not after seeing that baby.

“Sir, I don’t�"”

“No need to thank me. It’s already official. Now get back into that cage and join Alpha team on the floor. They’re gearing up and about to head out.”

Tommy saluted his commanding officer who then calmly went back to his screens, leaving him to make the short walk back to the cage without objection. “Looks like breakfast is coming back up after all,” he nervously chuckled.

When the cage next opened, it did so to a square room filled with wall to wall lockers along with people at them casually gearing up.

“Tommy, I presume?” called out a large framed man, grisly appearance from head to toe.

The nervous young man nodded and then stepped into Alpha barracks, the musk and mess bombarding his senses. These were the men and women that patrol the zones around the Wall, and he was now one of them. He could feel the camaraderie in the air, which eased his worries a bit.

Tommy hurried over to the Captain who stood in the open middle with rows of locker to his left and right, already dressed in his heavy black gear, shouting for people to hurry it up.

“Good, you're just in time.” He then pointed to the left corner where two women and a man were getting dressed. “You’re over there.”

“Yes sir,” said Tommy, saluting before scurrying away to his locker like a roach.

Holy cow! Captain Reese in the flesh, he thought somewhat gleefully, sitting on the wood bench across from his locker, a tall, worn box sporting his name at the top with a simple pull handle at the middle.

As he started to dress in his gear, the woman next to him, who was slipping on a gray sports bra, turned and asked, “You the new spotter?”

Tommy nodded, and then extended out his hand, after pulling on his armored trousers. “The name’s Tommy.”

“Rosie,” the woman replied, slipping on her black vest before shaking his hand. She then pointed to the others. “That’s Cathy,” pointing to the ghostly white woman in the corner, “and Caleb,” who stood next to Tommy on his right. “They’re twin albinos.”

“Nice to meet you,” offered Cathy, extending out a hand. “And just call me Ghost.” Tommy smiled, and then noticed the large, bolt action rifle beside her, which she handled rather easily despite her short stature. Sniper, he guessed.

The man next to him, who also had a sniper rifle but on the ground, extended out his hand to Tommy.

“And me, well, just Caleb.”

Tommy nodded. Soon after, feeling a bit more at home, joined them in conversation as everyone finished suiting up.

Not too much longer, Reese then called everyone to the middle and Tommy’s nerves hit him.

“Ok everyone, remember check two protocols. We’ve got shipments of blood vials inbound from our friendly neighborhood Brokers, and don’t wanna f**k it up, again,” Reese said. He then turned and extended out his arm. “Also, meet our new spotter,” continued the captain, pointing to Tommy, who looked quite doe eyed and fresh as a dozen faces looked on him.

Most welcomed him with nods or hey’s, but a few, off in the opposite corner, grunted and then turned away.

Tommy took that to mean either he was replacing a friend of theirs, or that they just didn’t like him already. Rosie saw this and looked to him with a refreshing smile.

“Don’t worry about them. That’s just Mac and Grady being grumpy about losing Asher. They were the three amigos, even worked together topside.” Tommy nodded, trying to not look at them.

Reese then wrapped up his little spiel and told everyone, “Grab your guns and let’s roll out.” Turning to Tommy, he then added, “Tommy you’re on our six with Ghost and Caleb.”

The twelve of them in Alpha team rolled out after the concrete clasped doors retracted, which opened up to a dreary New York City, a landscape filled with green and brown crusted buildings all around them, and a burning sun rising into the blood stained sky.

Those buildings within a block radius of the Wall were clear of citizens, barely maintained, but guarded nonetheless by Trollers, those responsible for protecting their flank by patrolling the side buildings day and night.

Tommy slowly walked out, taking in the feel of real ground for the first time since he was nine, with a reserved enthusiasm. His head then craned upwards to where Sarah would be, missing her already but knowing it was for the best because it meant they could be together off hours. A smile then crept to his face.

Today his job was the same as yesterday, but more important and required him to be scanning the deadened landscape for threats, looking for anything out of place, which noticeably shrank his smile.

Caleb looked back to him. “Don’t worry bud, you’ll do fine,” he said, clasping Tommy by the shoulder. Rosie then nodded to him before sprinting ahead to meet the approaching Brokers and their armed escort. Several others followed her lead.