The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “Yes, but this is a reinvention of Leonardo da Vinci’s design for the organ gun, later they called it the Ribault. Its use goes back to the Fourteenth Century.”

  “Really? That is quite disconcerting. I’m a scientist, not an historian.”

  “You do realize we have machine guns, and a few places have small cannon that fire grapeshot and cannister rounds.”

  “Yes, yes, I suppose we do,” Limestone said, looking rather dejected.

  “I’m not saying this isn’t a usable weapon. I think it could be very effective, especially for defense in settlements. Does it use cartridges or is it muzzle-loaded?”

  “Muzzle-loaded... but we could design and build cartridges for it. Hmm, da Vinci you say,” he said squinting. “A cartridge would need a primer. We could use our smokeless powder when it’s perfected. We could—”

  Jack interrupted, “Can you make a primer, Professor?”

  “What? Oh, yes. Quite sure we could.”

  “Do you think you could make primers to replicate the types used in small arms ammunition?”

  “I suppose. Why? Is it something important? I do rather like to work on projects of importance... and whimsy. This place needs some whimsy, don’t you think?”

  “Whimsy, sure, why not,” Jack said, shrugging his shoulders. “The primers are important. We have ammunition components to last us a good long while, decades probably, but the primers are a sticking point. They are the most scarce part of producing new ammunition. You and the chemists in Silo Springs are working on smokeless powder, but when we run out of primers...”

  “Ah, yes! I see. No primers, no boom. I’ll need to talk to some people, probably those chemistry people you mentioned. Dull they are, but I suppose they have their uses. You are a most interesting young man.”

  “Thanks.” Jack smiled. “The feeling is mutual, Professor.”

  “I insist you visit me the next time you are in town. In the meantime I have much to do. You can find your way back, can you not? Yes, I am sure you can. Interesting and industrious and all that. Good day!” Limestone said as he wandered toward one of his assistants, muttering to himself.

  “Looks like we’re walking,” Jack said to himself as he headed back to Heaven.

  . . . . .

  Jack made it back to town in less than an hour. He ate some lunch and spent most of the afternoon waiting at the Ranger Center between attempts to contact Geneva. Once he was able to get through, he spoke with Barbara Louis and let her know he would be departing Heaven the following day.

  Early the next morning Jack boarded the northbound train. Dubbed Big Ed, the LP powered tow truck turned rail engine was used primarily for pulling passenger cars, its exhaust was much less noxious than that from oil fueled engines.

  Jack sat near the front of the first car and deduced the origin of the engine’s moniker. On the back of the white truck’s cab, in fading red paint was BIG ED’S GARAGE & TOWING - HUGOTON, KS. IF YOU THINK IT’S DEAD, CALL ED, followed by a long unusable phone number.

  Big Ed and its crew returned him to Gravette on the same route that brought him to Heaven.

  Arriving in Gravette in the early afternoon, he found that everything was as Greely had arranged. Jenny was healthy and seemed happy to see him, and the stock car was connected to the train ready for his use.

  The train north out of Gravette took him through Noel to Nosho, then westerly to Seneca, where the passengers traveling that far disembarked and boarded a waiting truck that took them northwest to Baxter Springs, except for Jack, Jenny, and a merchant who was moving goods from the train to a small mule drawn wagon.

  “Let me give you a hand,” Jack said.

  “I won’t argue with you, Ranger,” the merchant said with a laugh. “Thank you kindly.”

  Within a few minutes, the two men had the wagon loaded and were on the road to Baxter Springs, the merchant guiding his mule by the leads.

  “They’re supposed to be putting in rails down here when they get finished up Saint Paul way,” the merchant said. “Name’s Dexter, George Dexter.”

  Jack introduced himself and the two shook hands as they walked.

  “Lose your saddle?” George asked with a gesture at Jenny.

  “No, I don’t have one,” Jack said.

  George smiled. “It’s a lot easier to ride with a saddle you know.”

  “Between the horse and the horse trader, they convinced me I needed an Appaloosa.”

  “Horse before the saddle, eh? If we could all sell like a horse salesman…”

  “We’d all be rich,” Jack finished.

  Both men chuckled.

  Dexter became serious. “Watch her when you’re out on the edges, Jack. Equines like to graze and if they eat where there’s traces of radiation—radionuclides they call’em—like cesium-137 and strontium from the grass and water will poison’em. Sooner or later that’ll kill’em. If you give your horse the treatment it’ll probably be okay, but you gotta watch’em close. You probably know that though.”

  “I do, but if I didn’t, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  “Forage? You know about taking that along?”

  Jack nodded.

  George appeared amused. “Then I’ll quit with the advice. I know a few jokes. A colleague of mine taught me some. Let me know if you heard any of’em before.”

  The two men led their animals the few miles to the small town, where Jack boarded the train going north, Jenny riding in a freight car.

  The train took them to Girard, where Jack stayed in the same boarding house he and Bill had used when they passed through on their way east.

  Jack was up before dawn and on the road west with Jenny by sunup when he caught a break. The crew laying rails west were heading to St. Paul and offered Jack and his mare a ride on their work train. Jenny’s sure-footedness made getting her aboard relatively easy. The train got them a ways past St. Paul, so Jack took a chance and hoped he and Jenny could make it to the rail line that lay to the west in time to catch the northbound train to Humboldt. The pair made it with time to spare, and with Jack riding with Jenny on a flatbed car they made it into Humboldt, where they would stay before making the trip to Geneva.

  . . . . .

  Chapter 5

  Some Trouble down South

  Early the next morning, Jack and Jenny began the walk home.

  Three hours later they arrived. Jack left the mare at the livery for boarding. When Jack inquired about Carson’s mules, he was told, “They’re fine. That Pyle boy comes over twice a day to check on them.” Jack headed for the Ranger HQ and found Lieutenant Geiger in his office pouring over paperwork in preparation for the upcoming trainee class.

  Geiger looked up and smiled warmly when he saw Jack. “Well, look who finally decided to show up! Gallivanting all over the country dispatching bandits and aliens bored you so you return, with many tales of derring-do no doubt.”

  Jack laughed. “I would have been here sooner LT, but some lady in Pea Ridge gave me this box to lug up here to deliver to her man, so....” He placed the box on Geiger’s desk.

  “That’s fighting dirty, Jack,” Geiger said with a big grin. “Thanks for being our family delivery service.”

  “You are most welcome, Lieutenant. Anything going on?”

  “Sean is in the hospital. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” he said raising his hand when he saw the look of concern on Jack’s face.

  “What happened?” Jack asked.

  “He went and acquired a heat injury while playing hero. He very likely saved Ranger Stark’s life.”

  “What happened exactly?”

  “I could let you read the report, but you might get a better version if Trahearn or Stark tells you. They’re both lounging in air-conditioned comfort at the hospital,” he said with a smile, then shrugged his shoulders. “Comfort may be a bit generous, considering the concussion and near heatstroke. Go on over and see them. We’ll talk when you get back.”

  Jack arrived at the hospital a
short time later. The medics showed him where the two Rangers were recovering. Jack peeked through the curtain enclosing their beds and saw Sean was asleep, but David Stark was awake.

  “Welcome back, Jack,” Ranger Stark said quietly. “You missed out on some fun.”

  “So I hear,” Jack replied softly. “How are you two doing?” he asked as he stepped into the space.

  “We’re on the mend. Ought to be out of here in a couple of days. Sean might be out tomorrow. I reckon you want to hear the story.”

  “Sure, if you’re willing to tell it.”

  Stark nodded and adjusted the pillow under his head. “Sean and I were out on a patrol two days ago. We’ve been seeing a lot of Cornhusk activity to the north. A lot of small elements out doing recon for something, very much like those two you and Tom grabbed a few weeks ago.

  “We were nine or ten miles north of here, tracking a pair of raiders. We lost them in some thick brush near a creek, figured they might have crossed it. We ditched our rucksacks where we could find them easily and made our way through the brush to see if we could find any sign of them, and boy did we,” he said looking upward and shaking his head.

  “Sean was in the lead heading down the creek bank, brush thick as all get out. We hear a noise ahead so we both dropped to a knee. No sooner had we done that, one of the Cornhusks comes pushing through the brush twenty feet away. He went for his rifle and Sean fired three or four rounds. The raider dropped, but he had five or six buddies with him and they all cut loose at us.

  “It turned into a big damned running gunfight, with us doing most of the running. We couldn’t get back to the rucks, so we only had our canteens on us for water.

  “We were pulling some distance on the guys chasing us, when I went and got stupid, or fell victim of bad luck, take your pick. I ran smack-dab into a tree branch, knocked me out cold. I landed on the TROG I guess, ‘cause it quit working. I came to a while later and Sean there has me strapped onto his back and is toting me down the trail.

  “I told him I was awake, and he could put me down, but he told me I likely had a concussion and he was getting me home. Turns out he was right. Medicos said I rung my bell but good.

  “Sean kept telling me to drink water. I told him he was doing the work in that godawful heat and he ought to be drinking it. He said he was drinking water so don’t worry. Lying sack he turned out to be. He’d given me all of his water and lugged me seven miles before we came across Art and Lew who were headed north to check on us since we hadn’t broadcast on account of the TROG going down.

  “When we reached them, Art and Lew unhooked me from Sean. They said to him, ‘We got him,’ and Sean says, ‘Good,’ and passed out on the spot. Art and Lew were pulling a hand cart, so they threw Sean and I on there and rolled us back to Geneva. Medicos said Sean was this close,” he said holding his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, “from having heat stroke. Crazy bastard saved my hide. He doesn’t quit, he goes till he can go no further.”

  “Crazy indeed! I’m glad you guys are going to be okay.”

  “Not near as much as me! You know Amanda is mad as a hornet at him,” Stark said pointing at Sean.

  Jack laughed. “No doubt. You need anything?”

  “No, unless you have an extra head handy. They’re treating us real well.”

  “Hey, Jack. When did you get back?” Sean asked as he stirred awake.

  “I just got in. Just what in the hell were you trying to pull?” Jack asked.

  “What do you mean?” Sean replied.

  “You trying to make my life difficult? You should have just left Ranger Stark out there,” Jack said as he winked at Stark. “You could have gone back and got him later and not created complications for me.”

  “How does this complicate things for you?” Sean asked with a confused look on his face.

  “Amanda will find a way to blame me for your heroics. My mom will blame me for not keeping you out of trouble. She looks on you as family you know. It’s just not fair of you to screw me over like this.”

  “I didn’t do this to screw you over, Jack! I just...” Sean paused as an irritated look came upon his face as Ranger Stark began to chuckle. “Very funny, Jack. I really need you busting my chops right now.”

  “Sorry, Sean. It was either that or get all gushy on you. I still could if you want.”

  “No, Jack. None of us want that,” he said smiling.

  “All right then. You know Amanda will eventually stop yelling at you.”

  “I know she’s mad, but she hasn’t yelled at me.”

  “Oh, she will. As soon as you’re healthy enough for it, you’ll hear about it. I doubt she’ll kill you though.”

  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then,” Sean said.

  “There’s an idea. I have to go and see Lieutenant Geiger. I’ll stop by later and check on you guys. Nice work, Sean,” he said earnestly.

  Jack went back to the Ranger HQ and found Amanda was in the training room. When she saw Jack she smiled and said, “Welcome back, stranger. You’re back early.”

  “We made good time.”

  “Too good.”

  “How’s that?”

  “A certain Ranger Lewis arrived in Heaven the day after you left.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Afraid so. She left a number where you can reach her. She’s starting her medico training, and since you won’t ask even though you want to, she sounded like she was doing well.”

  “I am glad to hear that. Thanks, Amanda. You up to speed yet with the new job?”

  “I’m on the home stretch. Barlo leaves in two days and she thinks I’m ready. I hope she’s right.”

  “You’ll be fine. If Barbara says you’re up to it, believe her. I do.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “I need to see the LT. We’ll talk later,” Jack said as he went to Geiger’s office.

  The lieutenant gave Jack a rundown of the current situation, Cornhusk raiders continued to reconnoiter the area around Geneva, and the new training cycle was beginning in three days with fourteen new recruits.

  Geiger was trying to keep patrols out in an attempt to keep tabs on raider activity, but with two Rangers in the hospital and the training cycle nearing its start, this was proving difficult.

  Jack told the lieutenant he was available if needed. Geiger decided to send Jack out on a patrol with Ranger West the following morning.

  The plan was for the two Rangers to venture north and track any raider activity they may come upon.

  The Rangers left at dawn, and decided to investigate the area where Sean and David Stark had encountered raiders a few days ago. While they didn’t find any raiders, they did find the rucksacks the other two Rangers had been forced to abandon. They decided to follow the creek farther north.

  In the early evening, the pair of Rangers decided to find a spot for a cold camp to spend the night. A nearby hill overlooking the creek and a nearby road looked to fit the bill and the Rangers stealthily made their way there and quietly set up a position.

  Not long before sundown, the Rangers spotted movement on the road, a quartet of men, all wearing the red markings of Cornhusks. As the two Rangers watched them through their binoculars, Ranger West whispered, “Jack, look at the third guy in line. Does he look familiar?”

  “Jason Marcus.” Jack sighed. “That might explain why the raiders are poking around Geneva.”

  “He knows we’re short on Rangers. You may be right, Jack. Look at the little shit in the back,” West whispered.

  “Is that Harl Cooper?” Jack asked.

  “I’m almost positive. I talked to the bastard when we had him in holding. Mean and twisted piece of work he is.”

  “Looks like Jason has a mentor,” Jack said as he watched Harl and Jason talk and laugh as they walked in the fading light.

  “He doesn’t make wise choices, does he? Dan’s gonna be thrilled to hear about this.”

  Jack and David decided to stay in their position when
morning came, hoping they may catch sight of raiders again, but by midday and seeing no sign of them, they broke camp and headed back to Geneva.

  . . . . .

  The next morning saw Lieutenant Geiger addressing fourteen trainees sitting on benches in the training area, with Art waiting in the wings.

  Jack stood with Sean—just recently discharged from the hospital—watching the proceedings. Sean smiled and said, “It seems like just a couple of months ago we were sitting over there getting the same talk those young trainees are listening to right now.”

  Jack laughed. “Yeah it does. It’s nice a couple of grizzled veterans such as ourselves can look back fondly on those long ago days.”

  Sean laughed. “You know, we’d still be in training if we had the regular four month cycle.”

  “We would have been better off. At least you would have,” Jack replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They might have taught you some sense. You should know better than to think you can carry a man that outweighs you on your back for miles and miles in 95 degree heat with no water,” Jack said with a smile.

  “Look, I’m getting enough of an earful from Amanda about that, I don’t need any more, especially from a show-off like you, Mister I shot a dozen aliens.”

  “What was I supposed to do, let them drag me off the wall and invade the town?”

  “What was I supposed to do, let David Stark bake in the sun while I strolled back to Geneva sipping water?” Sean replied with a grin.

  Jack laughed. “Your counter-punching is getting better, Sean.”

  “Just trying to keep up with all the smart-mouths around here, Jack.”

  . . . . .

  The afternoon would find Jack as one of the Ranger instructors for the shooting evaluation, along with Lieutenant Geiger, Corporal Braden, and Ranger Tibbs. Art, as he did for Jack’s group, served as rangemaster.

  Once Lieutenant Geiger gave a safety and procedures briefing and Art gave the Ranger instructors their lane assignments, the trainees and Rangers made their way to the range. Jack was carrying his Savage 110 rifle slung over his shoulder.