Wasteland Warlords 4 by James Hunter & eden Hudson

Author:James Hunter & eden Hudson [Hunter, James & Hudson, eden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press
Published: 2024-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

It was just after midnight when Clay slipped out of the sewers. Apparently, the Brothers of the Dew liked to turn in early.

He was careful to keep Obscured on the drive. He saw hardly any wasteland creatures; either the local monsters were on the verge of extinction or they had learned to hide out around the clock. On the outskirts of Malibu, however, Clay came around a sharp corner and almost ran down a pair of tired and tense-looking settlers scouring the place for something to kill and loot. His head snapped forward on his shoulders as he slammed on the brakes.

“Place is overhunted,” a big guy with more beard than face grumbled. “We’ll never meet the quota.”

“Devin saw those tire tracks out by the dunes,” said a wiry kid who looked like he ought to be stressing over pimples and pop quizzes in high school, not stalking monsters in the IZ. “Nobody’d get this far out if they didn’t have at least some magical items.”

“Are you back to suggesting we start taking down humans?” snapped Beardface. “I’m not a murderer, Marly, and I seriously doubt you are either.”

The kid blew his top. “Then you tell Rhett why we came back empty-handed again! Hey, it was nice knowing ya! Tell Lyle and Jen and Derrick and the others I said hi when you see them again—or what’s left of them!”

With the Camera Obscura covering him, they had no idea Clay was there. He let out a long slow breath and got the buggy moving again. While Beardface tried to snap his hysterical hunting partner out of it, Clay skirted around them on the sidewalk, careful not to drive on the sandy ground alongside. That was something they should’ve thought of—the Camera Obscura hid their party from enemy lookouts, but its item text had never said anything about hiding their tracks after they’d left. Something to keep in mind for the future.

The rest of the trip went considerably smoother. The area around LA was a hotbed of activity—the weird little kokopellis playing their eerie flute tunes, herds of enormous rhinocorns crunching on Joshua trees, and Crocturnals coming up out of their UV-proof lairs for the night. But since most of the activity came from the monsters allied with the Warlord of the West, Clay wasn’t in any danger of being attacked. A vicious-looking naga drinking a mug of coffee or hot tea on a street corner even shot him a nod when he stopped to renew his Obscurement.

The Warlord of the West might’ve acted like an overgrown teenager, but Clay had to hand it to him, PwnrBwner kept his territory peaceful. No wonder he’d been pissed when Clay set off that powder keg between the black widow and the king kong crooner.

The moon was high and bright when Clay made it to the Hollywood sign. Drone shots of the OLL burning had been a favorite of the news bloggers back during the Merge, and you could still see the soot marks on the H and Y.

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