Xenofall (The Wasteland Chronicles, Book 7) by Kyle West Page A

standing.”
    Julian and I merely stood, listening.
    “There are things we’d all rather forget,” Anna went on. “But we can’t. The pain becomes a part of us. There were times where that was all there was. That’s the way the world is. You can see beauty, or you can see ugliness. You can even see both, if you want to. Even without the Radaskim, this world would be a dark place. But even in the ruins, a flower can bloom. Even in a land without the sun.”
    “It will,” I said. “It’s what we’re fighting for.”
    I followed Anna’s gaze, and was struck to see what she was looking at. Her word choice turned out not to be merely metaphorical.
    In a crack of the concrete, a green stem rose, studded with thorns; at its end a red bud bloomed. A rose in the ruins. How it existed or even grew here, I had no idea. But there it was.
    “Some miracles do exist,” she said. “Jason grew roses like these, and even five years later, they’re still here.” She looked at me. “Life is as fragile as it is resilient. We’re built to survive. We’re built to endure. No matter what happens, as long we don’t quit, we’ll find a way. Even if we cry...we don’t cry to quit. We cry to go on.”
    We stayed in the house another few minutes. Anna just stood, looking with reminiscent eyes as if seeing through time. She saw things far beyond what Julian and I could see. Ghosts. Memories. Laughter.
    She turned, taking my hand.
    “Alright. We’ve seen enough.”
    We left the house and made our way back to Orion. As we weaved between the buildings and stepped onto the highway, I looked toward the right.
    To see a man standing there.
    Julian and Anna pulled up beside me, and the three of us faced the man. He wore all black – pants, collared shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat; a black duster jacket, the tails of which blew in the wind. A long, scraggly red beard fell down his chest, and eyes as blue as ice stared at us. He wore a belt, on which a handgun was holstered.
    The man didn’t move, but I moved my hand to my Beretta.
    In the end, the man advanced toward us, slowly.
    “Stay there,” I called. “And don’t move. Put your gun on the ground. Slowly.”
    The man paused. After a long, watchful moment, he reached for his gun belt, slowly, and removed it. The belt contained not one, but two holsters, one for each side. Next, he shucked his duster, revealing a rifle strapped to his back. He took the strap and the rifle off, laying them on the dirt at his feet.
    “Jesus,” Julian said.
    The man reached into his left boot, and withdrew a long dagger. He set the dagger on the highway before him. Holding out his gloved hands, he advanced forward, one step at a time.
    When he was about twenty-five feet away, Anna called out.
    “That’s far enough.”
    The man stared at her with those blue eyes. A long moment passed before anyone spoke again.
    “Do you recognize this guy?” I asked Anna.
    To the side, I saw her shake her head.
    “Who are you?” I asked.
    The man’s gaze focused on me. Even if he had removed every weapon, he was still dangerous. The way he carried himself, the way he looked at me, told me that. It was impossible to live this long alone and not know how to kill.
    “My name...” the man said, slowly and drawing it out in a raspy voice, “is not your concern. I’m the Last Man of Last Town. That’s all you need to know.”
    “What do you want from us, Last Man?” Anna asked.
    The Last Man stood as still as a statue.
    “For you to leave,” he said. “No man can walk inside these walls. I drove the Reapers out, and I will drive you out.”
    The man didn’t seem to be concerned with the fact that we had a spaceship. That seemed strange in itself. It meant that nothing was important to him but what he said. He wanted us out.
    “We’re leaving now,” Anna said.
    The man’s eyes focused on Anna.
    “I know your face,” he said. “But I don’t know from where.”
    Anna looked at him, not letting her