The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “Perfectly all right! We appreciate the ride,” Carson replied as he pushed cotton balls in his ears.

  Jack, sitting by the open passenger window with the exhaust outlet just below, yelled at Carson, “What did he say? Ask him what’s up with the awful vibration. I think my teeth are working loose!”

  “What did he say?” yelled the driver.

  “He said he is enjoying the ride, and that’s the truth.” answered Carson at the top of his lungs.

  “Well, I’m glad somebody is,” the driver yelled in reply. “We ought to be in St. Paul in about an hour or so. Where you fellas headed?”

  “Seligman. On business. Going to see a man about a horse,” Bill replied, obscuring the real reason they were travelling.

  “Makes sense. They got some fine horseflesh out that way. Just don’t go on to the Deva State. Went there once a few years back and damn near got dead! Had some fun though,” the driver shouted.

  “Been known to happen,” Carson yelled cheerily.

  “What did he say?” Jack yelled.

  “He said don’t go to the Deva State,” Bill replied.

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Bill yelled.

  “I can’t hear you,” Jack yelled back, shaking his head. “Tell me later.”

  Just short of one hour later, the two travelers were let off in St. Paul, and after waving goodbye to the driver, picked up their gear and began walking.

  “Where are we headed?” Jack yelled.

  “Lawson’s. A boarding house. You don’t need to yell, Jack.”

  “What? I can’t hear you. Am I yelling?”

  Ol’ Carson smiled and nodded his head.

  “I thought so. I’ll try and stop,” Jack yelled.

  A few minutes later the pair arrived at Lawson’s Boarding House, an establishment frequented by savvy travelers like Bill Carson. Mrs. Lawson greeted Bill warmly and said something to Jack. He nodded politely and said, “Ma’am,” guessing she was greeting him.

  Mrs. Lawson showed the men to their rooms, simply furnished with a bed, dresser, nightstand, and chair. When she tried to tell Jack the showers and toilets were down the hall, Bill explained Jack’s hopefully temporary hearing impairment and said he would explain it to Jack.

  A bit before five in the evening, after getting cleaned up, Bill knocked on Jack’s door to see if he was ready for dinner. Jack’s hearing was no better, so Bill mimicked the act of using silverware to eat. Jack understood and the men went downstairs and joined the other boarders at the dinner table.

  Chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, pickles, and biscuits made up the meal, with yaupon tea to drink. Gravy was available to be poured upon any and all of the menu items as taste might dictate.

  As the last of the diners finished their meals, the cook offered dessert, a choice of apple or peach pie. When she came to Jack she asked his preference, and Bill told her, “I’m sorry, but Jack’s hearing is bad after riding in a loud truck today.”

  She replied, “Oh, that’s all ri—”

  “I’m sorry ma’am, but I can barely hear a thing. I was riding in a very noisy truck this afternoon,” Jack yelled, as a few of the diners giggled quietly.

  “Just get him apple pie like I am having,” said Bill.

  “Okay, I’ll do th—”

  “Ma’am, I assume you are serving dessert? I’ll have whatever Bill is having,” Jack yelled, eliciting more laughs.

  The pie was served and enjoyed by all. As Bill finished his piece, he said to Mrs. Lawson, “Tell your cook that was some very good pie. I can’t remem—”

  “Mrs. Lawson, that was some fine pie. My compliments to your cook,” Jack interrupted with a yell. He didn’t hear the chorus of laughter emanating from his fellow diners.

  . . . . .

  Early the next morning, the two men grabbed a quick breakfast, settled up with Mrs. Lawson, and hit the road east to Girard, over seventeen miles distant. There were no vehicles heading east on this day, so it was on foot all the way. A mile out of St. Paul they passed the crew laying rails westward. After arriving in Girard they stayed at another boarding house, but with Jack’s restored hearing there was less confusion and laughter.

  The next day saw them on the road east, then south to Pittsburg, a trip of less than fourteen miles. Their intent was to catch the train southeast to a trading post north of the alien infested remnants of Joplin, but the truck locomotive had mechanical trouble and would not be ready until morning.

  Jack went to the Ranger post in town to check in and see if they had any news while Carson sought lodgings. Jack found there were only two Rangers present and based on their dirty and disheveled appearance, he guessed they were just back from some form of field duty,.

  “Morning Rangers,” Jack greeted them as he stepped inside, “I’m Ranger Traipse out of Geneva.”

  The two weary Rangers looked at Jack and smiled. “Mornin’ yourself,” said the older Ranger, a sergeant with graying blond hair, “I’m Mike Braden. This ugly, grouchy bastard is Cal Grant,” he said referring to the dark-haired man sitting across the table from him who raised his cup in greeting. “Pull up a chair and have a cup.”

  “Thanks, don’t mind if I do,” Jack replied. As he sat down and poured some tea, he asked, “Are you related to Corporal Lewis Braden?”

  “That’s right. Lew’s my nephew. You must be kin to Hardin and Gordon. I don’t know of any other Traipse family. You’re Hardin’s boy ain’t you?” Sergeant Braden said.

  “You would be correct,” he replied, nodding his head.

  “Well I’ll be. What brings you down here, Jack isn’t it?

  “That’s right. I’m on my way to the Deva State to pick up extremophiles and take them to Heaven.”

  “What the hell are extremophiles?” asked a bleary-eyed Ranger Grant.

  “They are microscopic organisms that can exist in extreme conditions. The type we are picking up are a radioresistant variant. Someone discovered they can thrive in certain radioactive environments, and they actually consume radioactive material,” Jack answered.

  “What the hell do they need those things for?” Grant said crabbily.

  “Because they make radiation treatments out of them. You get irradiated and them little things just might save your life,” Braden answered.

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Grant said with an irritated tone. “I’m goin’ to bed. It was nice to meet you, Jack,” he said as he rose from his chair.

  “Likewise, Cal.”

  As Ranger Grant left the room, Mike Braden smiled and said, “See what I mean, grumpy. Normally the Rangers out of Seligman will take care of the package. On a few occasions they tab us here in Pittsburg or the guys down in Pea Ridge. We’re spread so thin now we can’t do it I guess. You got enough Rangers to spare up in Geneva?”

  “Not really. We have ten Rangers, and we have a batch of trainees to take care of as well in a couple of weeks.”

  “Damn,” Braden said with a grimace. “We have eight Rangers, Seligman might have six. Didn’t you guys in Geneva just turn out some new Rangers?”

  “Yeah, seven. They were supposed to stay in Geneva, but they sent four of them to Horns along with three experienced Rangers. Net result—”

  “Same number spread too damned thin,” Braden interrupted. “Are things so bad down south?”

  “I guess they must be. We lost our only medic and Barlo Louis is being temporarily replaced by one of the new Rangers.”

  “Shit. Straily better get things straightened out down there and fast or things will start unraveling. Ain’t nothin’ we can do about it from up here, though. How’s Art Sierra doing, he’s still in Geneva, right?”

  “Sure is. He’s doing well, pretty pissed at Ranger Commander Straily though.”

  “No doubt,” Mike Braden laughed, “Art and your dad and uncle never got along with Straily. But I reckon you know that. Frankly, I don’t think hardly anyone gets alo
ng with Straily that well, but each of those three had some historic shouting matches with the commander. He gets the job done though.”

  “And that’s what matters.”

  “Yep. You got a place to stay until the train gets patched up?”

  “I’m traveling with Bill Carson. He’s taking care of it.”

  “You’re set then. If you can’t find anything feel free to swing by here.”

  “Will do. It was a pleasure, Mike.”

  “Likewise. I’ll see if I can get Seligman on the horn and tell’em you passed through here.”

  “Thanks, Sergeant,” Jack said as he shook Mike Braden’s hand.

  . . . . .

  After a night in a cheap, but clean hotel, the travelers were able to catch the train southeast, skirt Joplin and its aliens by passing to the west, and head south to a small settlement and trading post called Rancid. Some old friends of Carson were able to provide lodgings and word that there was a merchant truck headed southeast to Washburn the following morning.

  The truck was ready to go bright and early. The people on the crew welcomed having a Ranger aboard and were happy to have Ol’ Carson tag along. There were two wagons being towed behind the truck, which made the nearly fifty-mile trip take a little over five hours.

  Washburn was a walled settlement of a few hundred people about eight road miles north of Seligman. Like most settlements on the edge of the Freelands, Washburn kept militia members at points along the walls and at the gates. When Jack and Bill climbed from the truck they found out from the gate guards that there were two Rangers in town. Jack decided to seek them out, while Bill went to see who might be in the market square. They agreed to meet at the gate later for the trip south to Seligman.

  Jack found the two Rangers leaning against a fence at a livery stable where a horse trader was conducting business. The Rangers saw Jack approaching and waved him over.

  “You must be Jack Traipse,” the older Ranger said. “They said you’d be heading to Seligman. You know, we met about seventeen or eighteen years ago.”

  “Yes sir, I remember. You sold my father a rifle. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall your name,” Jack replied.

  The older man laughed. “I doubt you would. You must have been five or six at the time. I’m John Otis. I was a brand-spanking new Ranger and needed money ‘cause I was getting married. Your pa paid me more than that rifle was worth. Lookin’ out for a young Ranger I think. The Rangers are worse off without your pa and uncle,” he said with sincerity.

  “That’s nice of you to say, thank you. You know that rifle was my father’s favorite bolt action.”

  “That so? I’m glad he was happy with it. I was happy to get married and still am. Looks like it was a good deal all around. This young Ranger here is Laurie Manuel. She’s one of the new two-month crash course Rangers out of Heaven,” he said gesturing to the dark-haired woman next to him.

  “A pleasure, Laurie. I’m a crash course victim myself,” Jack replied, tipping his cap. She smiled and started to say something.

  “They sent you to the Deva State so soon out of training? I take it you must be short on Rangers over in Geneva,” Otis said.

  “We’ve got ten, and another class of trainees starts training in a week or so.”

  “Ten? In Geneva? That ain’t near enough for what you have to deal with,” he said shaking his head. “Plus training?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Damn if that don’t cut it. Straily must be raiding every single Ranger post for Rangers. I’m gonna talk with our lieutenant when he gets back to Seligman. By the way, there ain’t no Rangers down there right now. Everybody is out on something.”

  “Thanks for the information. What are you two doing here? Looking to buy horses?” Jack inquired.

  “No, we’re here because the council was worried a couple of rival factions might show up and fight over a horse that was up for sale earlier. Thankfully it was a bust, neither showed. We leave for a patrol up north this afternoon. If you are looking for a horse, see Greely’s in Seligman. We were gonna go and get some lunch before we head out, you want to come with?”

  “Sure, lead on,” Jack answered.

  As the Rangers ambled down the street in the direction of the market square, Laurie asked, “Did you have a Jennifer Lewis in your training cycle, Jack?”

  “Yes, do you know her?”

  “We went to school together in Fateville. I thought she was going to wait until next year to try to be a Ranger. She had to travel to Geneva for training because she waited. I guess something changed her mind.”

  Thank goodness. “She did well. She’s a fine medic. They sent her with a big group of Rangers to Horns.”

  “I have no doubt she did well. Smart. She’s a nice girl.”

  Yeah, nice girl.

  The three Rangers stopped at a food stand, and were soon joined by Bill Carson, whom it turned out, knew John Otis well. As they ate, Jack asked Ranger Otis, “Do you have any advice for operating in the Deva State?”

  “A little. First off, use your common sense. You’re a Ranger so you must have some. Remember, you’re just a guy off the street in the eyes of their town police, so be real careful getting involved in things over there. If you see someone about to get killed that ought not to be, use your best judgment. Otherwise let their folks handle things.

  “There’s a bunch of raiders and other scum over there most of the time, but usually they ain’t looking for trouble so much as they’re looking for a good time. That ain’t sayin’ they might not want to take down a lone Ranger, so maintain a low profile, wear your star under a jacket or vest or something.

  “Stay out of the red-light areas, gambling houses, and drug dens unless you got business there. If you’re leaving from Seligman, take a horse and leave in the morning, get your business done quick and get out the same day if you can. And for the love of Pete, don’t be a customer of none of those bawdy places while wearing the star, okay?” He said. Jack blushed slightly and laughed.

  “If you got Bill with you I expect you’ll make out okay,” Otis commented.

  “Thanks, John. Let’s not let near twenty years go by before we meet again,” Jack said.

  Otis laughed, “Let’s not. We better pick up our gear and get moving. Good to see you, Jack. Bill.”

  “Laurie,” Jack said as he stood and tipped his cap again.

  “Jack,” she replied smiling, “be careful over in the Deva State.”

  Bill smiled at the exchange.

  As John and Laurie walked away, Bill said, “I guess you do have a way with the ladies, Jack.”

  “Come again?”

  Bill’s smile grew bigger.

  “Word is you swept Jennifer Lewis off her feet and now I think you have Miss Manuel interested.”

  Jack grumbled and looked skyward. “Damn it. How the hell did my love life become such a topic of conversation? And for the record it was Miss Lewis who did the sweeping, and I was just being courteous with Miss Manuel,” Jack said in a mildly agitated voice.

  “Well, rumors can be wrong,” Carson said, obviously amused. “I suspect you might have left a trail of broken hearts behind you and didn’t even know it.”

  Jack glared at Bill and said, “All right, now you’re just fucking with me. Even if it were true, I am apparently too dumb to see it. It’s beyond the debating stage now anyway. My fate is in Jennifer’s hands.”

  “Ah, so it’s that way is it? Art and Amanda seem to think things will work out. I suspect they may be right.”

  “Son of a bitch! I’m going to stop talking to people,” he said with disgust.

  Bill broke into laughter. “You know me, I talk to everybody. I’m just yanking your chain a little, it’s pretty funny when you get worked up. Nobody wants to see you unhappy.”

  “Well good. As long as everyone is entertained.” He paused for a few seconds. “Let’s head for Seligman. You can cheer me up with a joke or two.”

  “My pleasure, Jack! A duck walks
into a pharmacy and says...”

  . . . . .

  By late afternoon, the two travelers were in Seligman. As was the norm, Bill knew the best place to stay, this time in another boarding house. When Jack told Bill they ought to follow Ranger Otis’ suggestion about riding horses to the Deva State, Bill replied, “I agree completely. I know just the place. It’s called—”

  “Greely’s. John Otis recommended them,” Jack interrupted.

  “That’s right. You’re getting the hang of this. They’ll rent us horses, unless you wanted to buy one.”

  “I’m not sure I have room in my rucksack, Bill.”

  “Ha! Funny, I’ll have to remember that. They have some fine horseflesh in these parts, so if you are in the market, it’s a good place to look.”

  The next morning saw Jack and Bill at Greely’s looking over the stock. Bob Greely the owner and proprietor approached the two men and greeted them, “Good morning gentlemen. Ah, Bill Carson. Didn’t recognize you at first. You needing a horse?”

  “Good to see you again, Bob. We need to go up to the Deva State on business and were looking to rent a couple of mounts,” replied Bill.

  “I hope you like trout,” Greely said with a smile.

  Carson chuckled, while Jack looked confused.

  “Name a way you can serve trout and they do it over there.” Greely said. “It’s an old joke. Trout, breaded trout, trout burgers, trout dogs, trout salad, trout omelets, you name it.”

  “I see,” Jack said.

  “The horses. Looking for anything in particular?” Greely asked.

  “I don’t see any saddle mules, so something calm and reliable,” answered Bill.

  “And you, sir? Oh, excuse me, Ranger I see,” Greely said, noticing Jack’s star. “Are you assigned here?”

  “No, I’m out of Geneva. I haven’t ridden in awhile, so I’m looking for something with a good temperament and gun trained if you have any.”

  “I’ve got one that ought to suit you. An Appaloosa mare. Kinda picky, but if she takes to you she’ll do fine for you. Trained and not the least bit gun shy. She’s for sale if you’re interested.”