I get up from the sand dune, looking around. Around me I see a small ramshackle of tin huts, and more sand dunes. This is it, the wastes. Sand falls to the ground as I brush it off of my torn leather jacket. I wear a simple belt on my waist, along with a loop where my 9 inch lead pipe sets. I survey the surrounding area, spotting a group of 2 or 3 men on bikers roll past on the cracked highway. I make my way towards the town, in search of water. The only things in my pack are an empty canteen, and 4 matches in a small book.