The Shepard - Chapter One

Day One
I’ve joined the Alliance and become a Walker. Basic was pretty easy for the most part but I still don’t like guns too much. Maybe if I’d grown up with ‘em I’d be better but I passed. I’ve been put on recycling detail as well, to search for anything worth repairing. I’ve been told to find aluminum to repair the generator for the hospital and glue. If clothes are found they should be brought to the HQ and reported.
--2018
Walker S-13 (Codename Sheppard)


The first rains since the Wall went up over City. Mobsters and perverts always running amuck. City has really gone down hill. Not to mention all these god damn power outages every couple of hours. It’s a constant war over at the Power Plant, three, four guys always turn up dead each week. It’s a damn shame.
Half the kids ‘round here don’t even know what a hamburger looks like. I told this kid around the block I’ll get him one ‘fore I die. Hope I can keep my promise.

My radio buzzed, crackling in a way I imagined my TV would right now if it worked. I double checked the buckle fastening it to my belt and turned the volume down. I could hear them but they couldn’t hear me.
“S-13, you’re needed back out at the Waterfront. Return a.s.a.p. and report back through Q-09.”
A short groan later, I was running down the street in the pouring rain, my scavenged combat armor consisting of a holey bullet proof vest and BDU’s found in the police dumpster, were soaked through and weighed me down, my boots dragging over the sidewalk’s cement.
Newspapers lay plastered and torn to the ground among bullet holes and random items of detritus. Clothing and small items of no value lay scattered about, the streets a hollow reminder of what once was and never will be. Windows of the tall buildings on either side stood like scripture on a tombstone. A chill breeze blew through me and carried on, uncaring to the bowels of City.
A door in an alleyway flew open then, bouncing off the brick wall its hinges called home and struck the man giving chase. A dark figure pushed past me and bounded over a park bench and rolled to a street level window, slipping into its dark recesses and disappeared.
The man stumbled to me and looked this way then that, turning on me in his rage.
“Where’d it go!? I know you saw!” He bellowed into my face, spittle washing down my face in the rain and veins bulging in his neck. His purple face beheld hate filled eyes and a beak-like nose, long, gnarled fingers like tree roots and a bald head with the palest of skin. He smelled of leather and smoke, his teeth yellowed and spotted.
“Sir?” I said then continued walking, his dumbfounded expression smoldering in frustration. A click behind me took hold of my legs and forced me to stop. I turned to find the eye of a gun studying me. A calm, steady hand raised.
“Let’s try this again, ya’ damn freak.” He sneered and smiled crudely. “Where did it go?” He said slowly, waving the gun from my stomach to face.
“Behind you.”
A sickening crack split the tense moment as the man’s head split from ear to scalp. He gasped and collapsed, the .45 clattering to the ground which I then “misplaced” into my pocket.
The dark figure stood behind the crumpled heap between us and tossed the lead pipe to the gutter, turning on its’ heel and nimbly sped off, long thin legs splashing down the cold streets of City.
I looked down to the unconscious man and found two wallets in his pocket. One with nothing but cash and a crumpled old subway pass, the other the ID of a young woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes. I took both and dropped the wallets beside the man who stirred and clenched a fist.
After deciding to leave the man there, I continued to the Waterfront and quickened my pace as the sun began to dip behind the Wall. Great shadows