The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “Not entirely, but I guess it was mostly my doing. I opened my big mouth and by the time Straily and I were finished yelling at each other I was tasked with putting a plan together. That led to me going out yesterday.”

  “So, you’re Sergeant Traipse now?”

  “I was acting Sergeant Traipse yesterday. Today I’m simply Ranger Traipse.”

  “Word is Straily made you a sergeant.”

  “He offered it as a favor for a favor. I told him I didn’t want it and made a better deal, I think.”

  “Not another favor for a favor deal. What do you mean, you think?”

  “How would you feel about being permanently assigned to Geneva?”

  “I’d be ecstatic, you know that. Why? You didn’t Jack! Tell me you didn’t risk your life just for that.”

  “I didn’t. I was stuck with the job in any case. I just threw you in as a bonus, so to speak. I was worried you’d think it a bit presumptuous of me.”

  “Not presumptuous at all. You know that’s what I would want. Thank you, by the way. I’d make your world spin again if we weren’t standing in the middle of the street,” she said with another smile.

  Jack blushed and said, “I’d end up passed out in the mud, but it’d be worth it.”

  “Sweet words, Jack Traipse. You go see Commander Straily. I’ll wait for you.”

  “You better, Miss Lewis.”

  . . . . .

  “Come in, Sergeant Traipse. Have a seat,” Commander Straily said gesturing to a chair near the map table.

  “I believe that’s Ranger Traipse, Commander.”

  “Your service record shows you as having been made sergeant as of this very morning.”

  “I said I didn’t care about that.”

  “I don’t care if you care or not, Ranger. You proved yesterday that you are up to the job, so you get the job. Simple as that.”

  “And if I object?”

  “Feel free if it makes you feel better. Yell, throw things, cuss a blue streak. Doesn’t change a damn thing. You’re a sergeant. Period. Assignment Geneva.”

  “I suspect there’s more to it than me just earning it.”

  “You’d be right. Normally I’d accept someone saying no to a promotion, happens all the time, but not today. I can’t have people wondering why I couldn’t crack this problem. This way it looks like I found a solution, which I did. Son of a famous Ranger, a natural leader of men, makes sergeant just a few months in service and he saves the day. That Duke Straily, he’s one smart SOB, making that young Ranger a sergeant. He saw the talent and fixed the problem. Now you and me are big damned heroes. If some Rangers got a problem with you making sergeant so fast, well that’s your problem to deal with,” he said with a hard-eyed grin.

  “Are you always playing the angles? A favor for a favor?”

  “Always. It’s how it works. The way of the world.”

  “Horseshit, Commander.”

  “I suppose you still think honor and glory mean something. That’s youth. You’ll learn.”

  “Honor, yes. I could care less for glory.”

  “Neither one is worth much to be honest, but glory will get you a lot further than honor, Sergeant. You are either very naïve, or you’re a crusader. I suspect it’s the latter. That’s fine, be a crusader. We are different breeds, you and I. You don’t like me and I don’t care much for you. Go back to Geneva with your lady. Chase your pa’s ghost into the Blastlands, then get back to the job. When we see each other we’ll shake hands and smile and after we part ways we’ll talk about how, ‘That Duke Straily is an asshole,’ ‘That Jack Traipse is an arrogant SOB,’ and we’d both be right.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And one more thing, Sergeant. This fretting over the Rangers we lost yesterday. Drop it. Those Rangers are gone, ain’t never coming back. Fretting is pointless. Get used to it, because in our line of work it happens.”

  “You handle it your way, Commander, I’ll handle it mine. I’m not going to dismiss them that easily. I can’t.”

  The commander snorted. “I was right, a genuine crusader. Fine, do it your way. Make us all proud, just do it a long damn way from me.”

  The commander tapped the edge of an envelope on the table and presented it to Jack. “By the way, here’s the letter for Tess. Give her my regards.”

  Jack took the envelope and put it in a pocket. “I will. Thanks, Commander,” Jack said as he rose to leave.

  As Jack reached the doorway, Straily said, “When you get done moping, know that the Cuervos are in disarray. Rangers out this morning reported that hill you fought on and the field below was covered with Cuervo bodies. Word of that will spread. Rangers are gonna be all over them for the next few weeks, and when we’re done the Cuervos will be months or years licking their wounds. It’s a good trade. You have a safe trip back to Geneva.”

  Jack looked back at the commander and replied, “It might be a fair trade, Commander. I wouldn’t say it’s good, but thanks.” Jack walked through the doorway.

  . . . . .

  Jack sat on a chair in his quarters with his left pant leg rolled up above his knee.

  “I know things got rough for you guys yesterday. Are you okay?” Jennifer asked as she examined him.

  “I’m peachy. I got five Rangers killed and filled a couple med centers with wounded.”

  “Jack, don’t beat yourself up over this. I’ve been in to see those wounded people. To a Ranger they are proud as everything about doing their part in taking down Crow.”

  “They should be. They’re the ones that made it happen, but I’m responsible for this, they’re not. I need to kick myself about this for awhile, then I’ll bounce back. Ouch!” he said with a wince as Jennifer pressed on the inside of his knee.

  “Sorry. So, brooding is how you handle things like this?”

  “It seems that way. I haven’t led Rangers to their deaths before.”

  “I didn’t mean that, Jack. I meant you don’t just let things that bother you slide like water off a duck’s back. You need to think things over, process them.”

  “That’s a nice way to sum it up, yes.”

  “I do that too. It helps to have someone to talk to.”

  “Yes it does,” Jack said looking at Jennifer with a smile.

  She glanced at his face. “Stop looking at me that way, Sergeant Jack Traipse,” she said facetiously. “Sergeant or not, I have a job to do, and right now I need to get this knee wrapped. You need to stay off that leg for a week or two. That means you won’t be walking back to Geneva. I’ll get you some crutches, stay here,” she said.

  She stood and quickly pecked Jack on the lips before darting away laughing.

  “That’s very inappropriate behavior, Ranger. We’ll need to discuss this when you get back,” he shouted with a smile as she passed through the doorway.

  End

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  The Blastlands: Chasing Ghosts

  . . . . .

  Previously

  . . . . .

  The past, it is often the present and future as well. Certain events extend tendrils far beyond their time, to the now and onward, touching lives and shaping things in ways unknown. We are the better and worse for it.

  Alexander Fremont, “From Calamity to the Freelands.”

  The great gathering of raiders under the notorious Joe Crow has been broken. The siege at Kings Town is over and the towns of Madill and Tishomingo are liberated. Even so, the raider threat still exists, albeit in an increasing level of disarray. The death of Crow and the defeat of the raiders near the Washita River did not mean an end to their predations, and the Freelands Rangers pursue them with vigor.

  Ranger Sergeant Jack Traipse, authorized to return to Ranger Post, Geneva to pursue a quest begun by his father years before, intends to do so as soon as possible, but there is much to be done before then.

  D
espite the good tidings in the southwest, the day-to-day duties and threats around the remainder of the Freelands remain to be dealt with, as they have since the Freelands Rangers began their work over two decades ago.

  . . . . .

  1

  As Always, the Job

  . . . . .

  The five-man team was moving fast, faster than prudent considering their proximity to the Freelands. The Freelands had Rangers, an able enough group of heretics, but the team was far behind schedule and the team leader was well aware of that fact. His superiors in the Homeland had set the schedule for his team, and the leader feared their wrath far more than he did Rangers. There are worse things than death, he thought. The wrath of the Apostles chief among them.

  “Neb, we must be careful,” said the nearest of two men pulling carts in tandem behind the leader. The effort of pulling a heavy load over rough terrain was evident in his voice.

  “Yes, Caleb, but we must also be swift. Our delays make the risk of discovery a necessary hazard.”

  “But we were told to travel well north of here. Will not the Apostles be unhappy when they learn of our deviation from our orders?”

  “Yes, Caleb. But they will overlook it if we arrive according to the schedule they dictate.”

  “But transgressions can result in punishment, in—”

  “Transgressions that can be overlooked if we overcome unforeseen obstacles,” Neb said. “Accomplishment of the will of the Apostles as laid down to us is the overriding concern, and this is my decision to make. I will suffer the consequences if we fail.”

  “You are more learned of The Good than I, Neb. May our journey be swift and undiscovered. So as the Apostles ordain, so do we struggle to obey.”

  A rifle-toting man walking alongside the cart shook his head. “We wouldn’t be in this position if the Low Ones had not tried to escape.”

  Neb looked over his shoulder at the man. “Yes, Joseph, but they did. We grew lax in monitoring them and they ran.”

  “And paid the price for such a transgression. Why did we have to use such—”

  “Complaining about it does us no good,” Neb said with a hard look. “Complaints are doubt of the Apostles’ wisdom. Our task is more difficult without the Low Ones, but it is still our task. We must press on and be watchful for Rangers.”

  Joseph sneered. “These Rangers of the Freelands are heretics. They don’t follow The Good, in fact they reject it. They cannot stand against us.”

  “Perhaps, but they are dangerous nonetheless. We must be careful.”

  . . . . .

  Ranger Sergeant Tucker lowered his binoculars. He glanced at the Freelands Rangers positioned near him atop the ridge.

  “The Greater Good, gotta be,” he said quietly as he watched the five men move to the east down a dry creek bed that ran between two low and heavily wooded ridges.

  Next to him, Ranger Sean Trahearn nodded. “They’re in a hurry, that’s for sure.”

  “Can you see what they have on the carts?” Ranger Brian West asked.

  “No, they’re both covered in canvas,” Tucker said watching through his binoculars once again. “They have some weight to them it looks like.”

  “How do we handle this, Tuck?” Corporal Lew Braden asked.

  “They’re going to pass just below us unless they alter course. Not likely given the terrain. We’ll see if they’re willing to talk,” Tucker replied.

  “A chat with TGG? That’d be a first, right?” Sean asked.

  “Sure would, but we have to give them the opportunity.”

  “And the opportunity to shoot first,” West said.

  Sergeant Tucker smiled. “That’s what they pay us for. We’re the good guys, remember?”

  The Rangers watched the five-man team draw closer. Sergeant Tucker looked at the members of his team and saw they were ready. “Hello in the creek bed,” he yelled. “We mean you no harm. I am Ser—”

  Gunfire from three of the men cut short Tucker’s words. The Rangers replied in kind and all three went down quickly. One of the cart pullers picked up a rifle, but accurate Ranger fire cut him down before he fired a shot. The other man, unarmed and the only one left standing, fled down the creek bed in the direction they had originated. The Rangers tracked him over their rifle sights, but didn’t fire. He was no threat.

  Sergeant Tucker rose and knelt, looking down at the carts and the four men on the ground. Not a one of them moved. “Damn it. Why? All they had to do was talk. It’s that way every time with those guys.”

  “Are we sure they’re TGG?” asked Ranger West.

  “Were I a betting man…. Let’s go down there and find out for sure.”

  The trip down the ridge was a short one and the Ranger team moved cautiously among the bodies and carts in the creek bed.

  “Trahearn, West, see what’s on the carts. Corporal Braden, keep watch. I’ll check the bodies.”

  Rangers Trahearn and West untied and pulled the tarp free from one of the carts as Tucker pulled a large envelope from the leader’s clothing. Inside were papers and a map. He flipped through them quickly. “TGG all right.”

  “What is this?” Brian West asked, looking at the stacks of paper-wrapped blocks that made up the entire load on the cart except for some cloth sacks and backpacks. Each package wrapper had PETN stamped on it in block letters.

  Sean unwrapped one of the packages and found a white block inside. He looked to Tucker. “Sarge, is this what I think it is?”

  The sergeant knelt next to the pair of Rangers. “If you were thinking explosives, it is. I’ve seen that used in quarries and mines for certain things, but it’s not very common.”

  Brian West looked perplexed. “There’s a couple hundred pounds or so I’d guess. Did they pull these all the way from the Rockies?”

  Tucker shook his head. “Good question. An even better one might be what did they plan to do with all of this? Check the other cart.”

  It took little time to reveal that the cargo aboard the second cart was also explosives, but of a different sort, trinitrotoluene, commonly called TNT. Tucker opened the map he had taken from the dead TGG leader.

  “This map indicates they were headed for the Blastlands, but they are far south of the route marked on here. Something must have diverted them down our way. What in blazes do they want to go into that radioactive hell hole for?” he said.

  West bounced a block of PETN in his hand. “And why do they need a few hundred pounds of this stuff?”

  “Another good question. I’ll finish searching these men. Secure the canvas over the explosives. We’ll need to move to some high ground and call this in.”

  . . . . .

  Ranger Sergeant Jack Traipse leaned out of the window of the train car, careful to avoid twisting his injured knee. “You guys be careful,” he said to a small group of Rangers who had gathered on the platform at Camp Mead to see Ranger Jennifer Lewis and him off on their journey to Geneva Settlement.

  The group acknowledged him with “we will,” or gestures.

  Jim Barstow, one of Jack’s comrades from Ranger training moved closer to the window and leaned against the side of the train car. “Jack, I know you pulled some strings to get Sikes, Young, and me the opportunity to go back to Geneva. I’m tempted to go back up there, but they have Ranger slots available in Kings Town and I have most of my kin in these parts. Don’t think I’m not grateful, but I think my place is here. I hope you’re not mad.”

  Jack shook his head. “Not at all. I’d do the same in your position. Don’t be a stranger.”

  Thomas Young glanced at Barstow. “Ralph and I aren’t ungrateful clods, Jack. We’ll be up there as soon as they’re done with us here,” he said with a grin.

  Barstow laughed.

  “I’m going to see your uncle tomorrow,” Ralph Sikes said to Jack. Gordon Traipse and Ralph had a fateful encounter years before when Sikes was a child. He felt the need to show appreciation for Gordon’s actions, action that saved his life and ins
pired him to become a Ranger.

  “Good. He’s been looking forward to that since I told him you were here.”

  “Y’all best wind up your fan club meeting,” the driver of the truck turned train engine said as he passed the group. “We’re leaving in about two minutes.”

  “I better get aboard then,” Jennifer said. The other Rangers on the platform gathered at the steps. She shook hands with each of them, Stan Dando last.

  “If Jack wasn’t here, I’d hug you,” Stan said. He looked at Jack and smiled. “I have dibs on her when she dumps you.”

  Jack glared at him over the top of his eyeglasses, then smiled. “Don’t ever change.”

  “He’s kidding, Jack. Mostly,” Will Dando said. The cousins Dando took great delight in needling Jack, who generally took it in stride except for the occasional retort. Despite the verbal barbs, they held one another in the highest regard.

  Jennifer boarded and sat beside Jack. “You have nothing to worry about, Jack Traipse.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I imagine you’ll have some thoughts about that somewhere down the line. Give it time, Miss Lewis.”

  The driver fired up the big diesel. “Last chance to board,” a man on the platform yelled as a few people ran for the passenger cars. Less than a minute later, the train began rolling.

  The train’s run ended at the city of Heaven several hours later. Jack and Jennifer stayed the night in town, departed the following morning, and after a few more stints on trains, arrived in Humboldt the next day. A wagoner was there to transport a load of goods from the railhead north to Geneva and gave them a ride to their final destination.

  Jennifer helped Jack step down from the wagon. She insisted. Until his knee healed, he should expect such treatment, she had made that clear. Despite knowing he could ambulate without her help, he was wise enough not to argue. Jack threw the sling of his AKM over his left shoulder.