The Dry Earth (Book 1): The Phone

by Orion, W. J.

  “Okay, well, I tried.”

  “I have a cleaning kit for pistols. Bottle of cleaner and lube, half full. Couple patches and rod.”

  Yaz fought to hide her excitement, and failed. “Oooh. Okay, we’re in business. Let’s go with the toaster, plus the cleaning kit, and when you get back from the tower, you bring me a comic book.”

  “And you’ll bring the hot plate to our shit hole near the gate before midnight?”

  “I’ll be there right after sundown,” Yaz said.

  Knox stuck her hand out, Yaz shook it, and the tiny woman took her punctured bulletproof vest and shotgun out of Brent’s stall.

  Yaz felt like she’d won the lottery.

  True to her word, a nervous Yasmine walked down the street of Shantytown to the Monolith house. Tucked under one arm she held the hot plate.

  Parked in front of the waist high chain link fence along the beaten street were the three Monolith vehicles. A pickup with a steel pole in the back for a machinegun, a small motorcycle (or a dirt bike, Yaz wasn’t sure which was which) and a cargo van that had somehow been given larger tires for better driving in the loose, dry soil of the wastes. The pickup and the van were encircled by a strange steel mesh similar to chain link fencing. The wire armor was held out from the sides of the vehicle by wooden and steel struts, and a chain dragged from the back of the vehicle to the ground. The bizarre armor looked ineffective to anything more than the groping of strangers in the wastes.

  Inside the weird fence-barrier, each of the vehicles was pockmarked with dents and bullet holes though they had little rust. Benefit of a dry world.

  She took a turn through the chain link fence where the house’s gate used to be, and walked up the pavement walkway. Beside the old concrete where the grass used to be were twin patches of dry soil. She avoided putting her foot on it for fear it’d kick up yet more dust.

  Two stone steps later she was on the crooked porch of the home and knocking on the door. Three raps of her knuckles were all it took for the door to swing inward.

  A man she recognized stood there. Average in almost every way, the sun-burnt man sported a bald head just like the Baron, and a yellow t-shirt that probably started life white.

  “Hi. I have a delivery for Knox.”

  He tilted his head and looked at Yaz, judging her. He kept one hand tucked behind his back and stared good and long at her. Again, she felt her skin crawl. He turned his head slightly and hollered out.

  “Knoxie, some girl is here. Says she has a delivery for you,” he said.

  When he turned his head she saw a strange spot of skin at his shirt’s collar. Where his neck met his collarbone a spot of his skin the size of her hand was lighter in color, and puckered up like old leather. She pulled her eyes away before he turned back to face her. Beyond him she saw a candlelit living room with a half dozen old folding chairs surrounding what her mother called a card table. Knox shot up from one of the creaky chairs and ran to the door.

  “Thanks, Bernie,” Knox said to him, pulling him away from the door.

  The man she called Bernie resisted her at first, keeping his eyes fixed on Yaz, but another pull of his arm sent him away. He chuckled as he headed past the folding chairs and table and into a back room.

  “Sorry. Bernie hasn’t been the same since he got torched by some crabs a few years back,” Knox whispered.

  “The scar on his neck?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry. He’s pretty harmless. Just… gets fixated on things. That the hot plate?”

  Yaz pulled it out from under her arm. “Here you go.”

  Knox took it and looked it over. The cord unfurled and clacked on the floor. She spooled it back up with a smile on her face.

  “This is great. These are hard to find in the city. They’re all claimed.” She sat the hot plate down on some furniture just out of view behind the door. She produced a small plastic case and handed it to Yaz. Yaz popped it open. She twisted open the small bottle of cleaning oil and smelled it. Everything was as Knox said it would be.

  “Cleaning kit. Perfect. Thank you.”

  “Follow me to the van out there. Toaster is in my bag.”

  Knox exited the house and walked with Yaz behind her to the idle van with the large tires. She opened the passenger side door with the cage on it and yanked an old military camo backpack. Knox took a knee on the side of the road and pulled a dingy white toaster out of the bag. She handed it to Yaz, and Yaz checked it over. It looked okay.

  “Awesome. And no worries on the comics,” Yaz said. “I just like reading them. My dad liked them.”

  “The Baron said your dad was a fireman, right?” Knox asked, still on a knee.

  Yaz nodded. “I don’t remember him much, but my mom said so. He died when I was really young. When we were on the move.”

  “Yeah. I’ll get you those comics. I said I would, and I will. No idea what heroes are in them.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take any hero I can get.”

  Knox stood, tossed her bag back in the van and shut the door. She brushed her dirty knee off and lingered as Yaz played with the toaster’s buttons.

  “We’re not that bad, you know,” Knox said.

  “Who?”

  “The Monoliths. We’re… mostly good people. We’re trying. Trying to rebuild,” Knox said. “The Baron, he’s hard, but he’s not that bad. Treats us like family. Takes care of us. He’s fair.”

  Yaz stopped fidgeting with the toaster and looked at Knox. The small woman stood proud, but not defiant.

  “So far, you seem pretty nice. I mean, Bernie in there was a creep, but he’s not the first creepy guy I’ve met.”

  “Truth. That’ll get worse in the city. The people. I mean, if you ever go there.”

  “I uh… thought about it.”

  “Going to the city?” Knox asked, brightening. “We could take you. Not tonight, we’d have to check with the Baron, but I’m sure he’d be okay with it. You could visit the tower. It’s the safest place in the city, other than the Station.”

  “What’s the Station?”

  “It’s a chemical plant on the north side of the city. They’ve retooled and now are the only source of fuel. It’s a fortress. It’s also a church. Life’s weird.”

  “Wow,” Yaz said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Well, you don’t have a car, and if you’ve never been to the city, you’d never hear of it. You should come to the tower. Maybe join the Monoliths.”

  “Pump the brakes, Knox. Slow it down. I mean, I thought about it, but I’m not taking a ride with a bunch of strangers. I can’t remember the last time I was in a car that moved. I’ve never been in a car wrapped in this weird fencing.”

  Knox turned around and looked at the bizarre installation on her van. She laughed. “It helps with crabs.”

  “How so?”

  “Ever heard of a Faraday cage?”

  “Nope.”

  “This is like, the ghetto version. It absorbs and redirects electrical charges to the ground. Crab weapons are basically Tasers on crack, so these half-assed cages protect the vehicles, kinda. Their bolts hit the fencing, and some of the energy gets routed away to the ground.”

  “Like a force field?” Yaz asked, eyes narrowed.

  “I mean, sort of. Works half the time, maybe,” Knox said and rapped on the metal with appreciation. “It’s something.”

  “I don’t know, Knox. I can’t say I can stomach riding out in the open in that thing. My mom and I slept in the trunks of few when we were on the move, but nothing that took us anywhere. My parents would freak out if they even thought I was thinking about it. If they were still around.”

  “Afraid you might get carsick?” Knox teased, ignorant of Yaz’s sudden sorrow.

  “Afraid I might get locked in a cell then cooked and eaten,” Yaz said, not joking.

  “Well, if you’re honest—like I think you are—you won’t get locked in a cell. We only lock up criminals. Bad people, you know.”
/>   “Can’t promise me I won’t get eaten though?” Yaz said, joking this time.

  “Well, it wouldn’t be us eating you, but I can’t make any promises about some of the savages in the city.”

  Yaz laughed, but Knox didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Arguing With Mom and Dad

  “You have to be careful,” Brent said to Yasmine after swallowing a bite of his after-dinner cinnamon cookie. “When you leave this apartment building, everyone can be a threat. Double the chances now that there are strangers inside the walls.”

  “Could you wait for the doom saying?” Kim chastised. “Wait and let me get the boys to bed?”

  Behind her Liam and Owen scampered about in the apartment’s living room in their hand-me-down pajamas. Handed down by whom… who knew? But they were happy. Fed and watered, safe, and cool.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Brent sat his cookie down and waited as Kim organized the boys into the corner room with all their toys. Same room Yasmine recuperated in… forever ago.

  Yasmine waited until Kim returned and took her seat at the table. She wasn’t gone long. After long, hot, and busy days the boys settled fast. When the two adults and one teenager talked, they spoke in hushed tones.

  “I’m aware of the dangers, Brent. Thank you for being concerned all the same.”

  “I’m serious, Yaz. These people are dangerous,” Brent added. “They don’t have the reputation they have without some basis in truth.”

  “Brent. I get it,” she said to him. “These aren’t the first dangerous people I’ve come across, or avoided crossing.”

  “Look, I know you’re confident. I know you say you killed a crab-“

  “I killed a crab. I didn’t ‘say’ I killed a crab. It’s dead at the bottom of the school I was picking over. Well, as dead as crabs can get.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I killed a crab. Either believe me, or don’t. And it looks like you don’t,” Yaz spat.

  “Yasmine,” Kim said, resting her hand on Yasmine’s. “Brent is being protective. There’s no malice. Don’t get angry.”

  “Don’t get angry? He just accused me of being a liar.” She stared at the cookie on the plate in front of her, and didn’t have the appetite to touch it, let alone eat it. She pushed the plate away.

  “I didn’t accuse you. I’m sorry it came across that way.”

  “May not have been an accusation, but you definitely don’t believe me. If you did, you wouldn’t have said it the way you did.”

  “Yaz, this is not the conversation I wanted to have with you,” Brent said. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  “Well maybe I don’t need you helping me,” Yaz replied. “Maybe I do just fine on my own.”

  “Yeah? Like when you stumbled up to the gates, inches from death, bleeding out? That’s just fine? Or when you went into that ditch, and came back hurt again? That’s just fine too?”

  Yaz tilted her head down and felt anger rise. “I went into that ditch for medicine. For the people here. For your son. Don’t you dare.”

  “Brent, stop. Please. That’s too far. Yaz has shown us that she can take care of herself admirably,” Kim said, reaching out with her arms to break up the growing argument.

  “Yet another stranger trying to take care of me,” Yasmine said. “I can take care of this, Kim. I can stand up for myself.”

  “I know. I know,” she said. “But like my idiot husband, I am trying to protect someone who doesn’t necessarily need it.”

  The two women huffed in frustration, and gave Brent a dirty look. The big man rolled his eyes far enough into his head to look at his own spinal cord and he took another bite of the simple cookie Kim baked for them.

  After a whole minute of awkward, strained silence, Yasmine reached out and pulled her plate back. She picked up the cookie, looked at it, and took a small bite.

  “It’s good. Thank you.”

  Kim beamed. “I’m glad you like it. Not much sweet left in the world.”

  “No,” Yaz said and sighed. “Um. I’m sorry I got angry. I uh, I do want to share something. An idea I had.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I gave you the impression I doubt you. I don’t. Please, go ahead,” Brent said. “I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

  Yaz chuckled. “Yeah, sure. See if that happens. I talked to the Monolith woman named Knox. She came by the shop while you were eating lunch the other day. Did some business with her. Left you a toaster.”

  “I saw it, I didn’t see anything traded for it,” Brent said. “She just give you a toaster?”

  “Swapped her some of my stuff.”

  “You traded her your stuff, then left what you got with me?”

  “I got stuff too. It’s not important. Look, she seems really nice, and I went to the house the Monoliths are in, and met another guy of theirs named Bernie. He was weird, but alright, and long story short, I’m thinking I might try and get a ride with them to the city.”

  Kim dropped her cookie and Brent’s face puffed up as he bit his lip.

  “Don’t say a word,” Kim instructed her husband. “Yasmine, you need to be very sure. Very sure about this. The city is… not like the wastes. There are places to run and hide here.”

  Yaz shut her eyes and sighed.

  “Stop, please, I know,” Kim said. “Just… be sure. Realize what you’re doing.”

  She opened her eyes. “I will be. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Brent posed.

  “Sure, if you can try to be nice about it,” Yaz said.

  “What’s in the city that makes you want to go there?”

  Yasmine leaned over the table and took another small bite of the cookie. She chewed, swallowed, and debated. How much to say? Say it now, or wait? Be cryptic? Or be honest?

  “The longer you take to answer the question, the more we’re gonna think it’s a lie,” Brent said with a smile.

  “You know that because you used to be a cop?” Yasmine asked him, amused.

  “I know that because I’m a parent. Being a cop helped with that, sort of.”

  “I’d argue against that,” Kim said. Everyone laughed.

  “Is is that obvious that I don’t want to say something?” Yasmine asked the married couple. They nodded. She sighed.

  “Say what you want to say. Hold back details if you must,” Kim said. “We trust you to share it if it’s dangerous to us or the town. Everyone wants secrets to keep.”

  “Ha. You know, I’ve been on my own for so long, I don’t even know the difference between being private, and keeping a secret.”

  “What do you mean?” Brent asked.

  “When you’re alone; fending for yourself 24/7, everything is private. I didn’t share with anyone because there wasn’t anyone to share with. Now that I’m around people, if I don’t share information I have, or my thoughts, am I just being private about my life, or am I keeping secrets? Where is that line drawn?”

  “That line is drawn in the sand, for sure. That’s some heavy thinking, kid,” Brent said.

  “A burden?” Kim asked her.

  “I don’t know yet. I know I don’t say all of what I know, or what I think, and sometimes I feel guilty about that. People aren’t always ready or willing to hear what I think or know. And sometimes, I think I stay quiet because I don’t want my knowledge to scare them.”

  “A wise person keeps their own counsel,” Kim said.

  “Huh?”

  “Smart people don’t blab everything,” she explained. Everyone laughed.

  Yasmine perked up. She chomped another big bite of her cookie and after chewing it and savoring the flavor of Kim’s baked treat, she spoke.

  “I feel better. I’ll say this, and please don’t ask more; I know something about the city that I’m pretty sure none of you know. I have a friend there, and I’d like to… I guess investigate that something. It’s important. Very important to me, at least.”

  “Well
okay,” Kim said. “That wasn’t that hard, was it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “If you go, you’ll let us know?” Brent asked of her.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “And you’ll let us know how long to wait before we go into that city after you?”

  Yasmine smiled, and laughed. “No, no. No second rescue for me. If I don’t come back, just tell yourself I found an oasis in an old city park.”

  Brent looked at her like she’d let something slip, but nodded.

  “Liam will come for you himself, you know. Ever since that big showing you did at the council the other day… he thinks you’re an honest to God hero.”

  “Sometimes, we have to take any hero we can get.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Pay the Toll to Enter

  Five days later, Knox visited Brent’s market stall, and handed a stack of stained, faded comics to Yasmine. She smiled and departed without a word.

  After the tiny Monolith lady left Yasmine thumbed through the comics. They belonged to almost as many different series as there were issues, and she loved them. They were colorful, and filled with green grass, blue water, intact cities, and smiling, fat people. Some of the issues helped fill in gaps in her collection back in her basement sanctuary, and some started whole new sets she’d want to complete.

  Yasmine made her decision about the Monoliths and her trip to the city as she read about ancient Norse gods, men wearing tights, and mercenaries that ate chimichangas in her bed, in her new apartment that night.

  She would go to the city once the Baron was persuaded to let her take a ride in his vehicles, and to let her into the tower.

  Now all she had to do was convince the Baron.

  “So… I think I’d like to come to the city the next time you return there,” Yasmine said to Knox.

  The two women stood in the center of the parking garage, eating their lizards on sticks. Men and women trying to get their last minute items before the market closed scurried about and the smells of families cooking at nearby homes spread throughout the settlement. Life after the apocalypse.