The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  Jack smiled. “I don’t make policy. If you’re serious about it, talk to the Ranger Commander. While you’re at it, see about getting the rail to Geneva.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Not at all. A rail company, not just Troy to Madill, but rail lines to all the underserved settlements.” He pointed a finger at Jack. “You think big. I like that. We’ll put you on the board, Sergeant.”

  Jack laughed as he stood to leave. “You do that.”

  “He’s serious,” the other man said. “It takes brains and courage to make it in business. The quick and the dead, and you, sir, you are quick.”

  Jack smiled as he threw on his LBE and rucksack, and then slung his rifle over his left shoulder. “Let me know when we have the first meeting of the Troy, Geneva, and Deva State Rail Company. I’ll be there with bells on.” He walked outside laughing quietly at the ridiculous idea of Jack Traipse, rail executive. He looked up the street and the smile disappeared from his face.

  A pair of raiders walked toward him on street and he could tell they recognized him from somewhere. They weren’t wearing Cuervos colors so he guessed they might have seen him in Eastwood. They’re not looking for trouble. Even so, I’m not in the mood for this.

  “You’re the guy who took Buck Smith, right?”

  “His name is Buck Scuddie, but yes, I’m the guy.”

  “You done in a bunch of good men went to help him, yeah?”

  “I defended myself. What of it?”

  “We shared trail with Buck. I just want you to know, we’ll remember you, Ranger.”

  “You do that. The name’s Traipse. T-R-A-I-P-S-E. Got it?” He glowered at both of them. “Get out of my way.”

  They did. Jack walked fifty feet before the raider said anything else. “We’ll remember you.”

  “I heard you the first time,” Jack said over his shoulder.

  Jack moved fast, checking his back quarter every so often in case the raiders decided to try something. He knew it was unlikely he’d make Tishomingo by dark, but setting foot in the Freelands had appeal to him so he pushed forward.

  He made it to the western edge of the town about an hour after dark and decided he would spend one more night under the stars. Tomorrow I’m going to shower and shave, find a place that serves good pie, and call Geneva and let them tell me how irresponsible and stupid I am.

  . . . . .

  Jack was up at dawn. He was sure it had become a habit. He waited for full daylight before he set out. He decided to walk through Tishomingo and take the road south through Madill to Kings Town.

  The raiders had caused considerable damage to Tishomingo. Some of it was obviously from the fight that took place when the raiders descended on the town, but much of it was aimless destruction done during the time the raiders held the place, the work of bored and sadistic minds. Jack wondered why they might do such things, but knew he would never understand.

  The restoration of electrical power occurred sometime since Jack had left Kings Town, and the city was almost frenetic with activity. People were busy repairing damage, rebuilding burned or destroyed structures. Jack was surprised to find a restaurant that was open. You shouldn’t be. People bounce back, they want a return to normalcy, he thought. He stopped and went inside, looking forward to a properly cooked meal on a plate and eaten using silverware, something he had not had since he ate with Abel Pilgrim. He sat at the counter and looked over the understandably limited menu. He ordered ham and scrambled eggs with potatoes, toast, and a glass of iced milk. He was disappointed to find the pies wouldn’t be ready until lunchtime.

  While Jack waited for his meal, a man to his right leaned over and looked at Jack’s star and the nametape on his chest. “You’re Ranger Traipse?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Jack Traipse?”

  Jack didn’t recognize the man. “Yes. Do we know one another?”

  “Know you?” The man stood and pointed at Jack. “Hey! Everybody, this is Ranger Traipse.”

  Jack cringed. The man pounded him on the back and Jack soon found himself surrounded by people wanting to shake his hand, hug him, or pat him on the head, shoulder, or back. People came into the restaurant just to meet him and give thanks. While honored by the reception, he was also very uncomfortable with the situation. “I was just doing my damned job,” he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  By the time he was able to eat, his food was nearly cold. Several people insisted on paying for the meal, but the restaurant owner said it was on the house. Before he departed, Jack left enough money on the counter to cover the price of the meal and tip. He hoped no one would be offended.

  When he stepped outside, he met more people who wanted to thank him for what he did to lift the siege at Kings Town, others had heard about Buck Scuddie’s apprehension. Other raiders had been brought in while Jack was away and the townspeople attributed this to him. Despite his best efforts, it became apparent he would not be able to set the record straight, at least not then. He beat a hasty retreat out of town.

  A short while later, he arrived at the edge of Madill and decided to pass through as fast as possible, hoping to avoid a repeat of what happened in Tishomingo.

  Madill was every bit as busy as their neighbors to the north, and he was able to reach the other end of town without anyone recognizing him. An older couple on a wagon headed south slowed and offered him a ride to Kings Town. They recognized him, having seen him at Mead Ranger Base during the siege some weeks before, but didn’t make any fuss. The couple and some of their family managed to flee Madill before the raiders took the town and found shelter in Durant. As they were going to Kings Town, Jack gratefully accepted their offer. They introduced themselves as the Hamptons.

  Along the road south, a band of heavily armed men on horseback passed them going the opposite way, waving and saying “hello” as they rode by. Jack watched them as they went north.

  “They’re coming back from a raider hunt, I expect,” said Mr. Hampton. “There’s a lot of that going on. They’d be better off trying to help rebuild. We got two sons-in-law and a nephew out with groups like that. One of my in-laws lost his pa in the fighting and a sister to a rape gang in Madill. He’s a Flint and I understand you brought one of the killers in.”

  Jack nodded. “That’s right.”

  “That’s how it should be done. Legal, you know? I don’t like the whole vengeance thing. That gets ugly. Hate gets out of control.”

  “I agree,” Jack said. “I also understand your son-in-law’s reasons.” I can’t condemn him for something I would be doing if I were in his shoes. Jack thought back to just a few weeks before when he faced the possibility Jennifer might have been killed by raiders during a large fight during a failed attempt to liberate Tishomingo. He had told Amanda that if it proved to be true, he was going to toss his Ranger star aside and hunt raiders until they killed him or he killed them. It was no idle threat. “Your son-in-law lost people dear to him and those that did it may ride free. As you said, it’s ugly, but it’s also very human. It’s because he loved his family so deeply that he hates the raiders so.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but it won’t bring them back. That isn’t why they do it though, is it?”

  “I can’t say. I think it’s primal, something deep down.”

  “You’ve seen it before I guess. Your line of work and all.”

  Jack didn’t reply.

  . . . . .

  Kings Town was a pleasant sight for Jack, despite the still somewhat bedraggled appearance of the place. While not damaged to the same degree as Madill and Tishomingo, it had suffered nonetheless, having been under siege for an extended period. That was all changing though, and Kings Towners were hard at work restoring their city.

  Kings Town marked the end of the physical ordeal of recovering his father’s remains and returning to where Hardin’s last mission started. It also marked the beginning of the trying emotional experience of the trip home and the burial service to come. It was an experience he
knew must be endured and one he looked forward to putting behind him.

  Jack first went to the Ranger post in town. On the way there, he crossed paths with Ranger Ben Barstow. Ben was Jim Barstow’s cousin, and an old friend of the Traipse family. A giant of a man, he smiled broadly and lumbered his way to Jack with his enormous right hand extended.

  “Welcome Back,” he rumbled as he shook Jack’s hand. “You look tired.”

  “I only have myself to blame for that.”

  Ben laughed. “I know it’s the last thing you want, but you’re earning yourself a reputation.”

  Jack glared at the blue sky. “It is the last thing I want, but it’s over and done. I’ll go hide out in Geneva and be just another Ranger.”

  “You’ll never pull it off, Jack.” Ben clapped him hard on the back of his ruck, nearly staggering Jack. “Let me carry that thing.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. I hope you didn’t crush everything in here. My father’s remains are inside.”

  Ben threw the ruck over his shoulder. “Sorry, Jack. I have a feeling Hardin wouldn’t mind.”

  “He probably wouldn’t. The last thing he’d want is reverence.”

  “What the hell do you have in here? Thing weighs a ton.”

  “Enough garbage to keep me in permanent debrief if I’m not mistaken.”

  Ben chuckled.“Like you said, you only have yourself to blame for that.”

  The two Rangers walked to the Kings Town’s Ranger HQ. Captain Holden, the commander of Troop C was there. Jack had last seen him when the siege still held. He looked much better now.

  “Jack Traipse,” he said with a smile. “About time you resurfaced. Commander Straily was considering sending out a search party.”

  “It’s good to know he cares.”

  “Sounds like you had quite the adventure. What did you find?”

  Jack started to speak when Ranger Commander Straily entered, accompanied by several Rangers. One of them was Mike Pitts, one of several Geneva station Rangers sent to Camp Mead to help deal with the raider situation. He smiled and gave Jack a quick wave.

  “What did you find?” Straily said.

  Jack gave a quick summary of his journey, omitting his meeting with the Changed as he had promised.

  Straily nodded and glanced away in thought for a few seconds and then looked over his shoulder. “Pitts, secure the cases. We’ll take them to Camp Mead and get the intel folks on them ASAP.”

  Jack opened his rucksack and removed the cases, taking his father’s pistol before he passed them to Mike. He placed the canvas bag that contained Hardin’s remains on the table beside the ruck.

  “Is that Hardin?” Captain Holden asked.

  Jack nodded.

  Straily eyed the bag sternly. “Captain, would you call Durant and have a coffin made ready. It won’t do having him return to Geneva in a bag. That is a Ranger.”

  “Will do, Commander.”

  Straily looked at Jack. “You look beat, Sergeant. Go get some rest, and report to me first thing in the morning at Mead.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Straily and his entourage left, as did Jack shortly after. He didn’t go to rest though, he went to see his Uncle Gordon, Hardin’s brother.

  “About time you got back. I thought I might have to come look for you myself,” Gordon said when his wife Carol led Jack in to see him. “It’d be a damn shame to make a one-legged old man hobble around the Ravaged Lands looking for his only nephew.”

  “I let myself get diverted.”

  Gordon laughed. “Get used to it. It’s the lot of a Ranger. One thing leads to another more often than not. Your friend Amanda called. Said you went up to OK City?”

  “No. Only as far as Old Norman. That was bad enough.”

  Gordon cast an irritated look at Jack. “You might take it a might easier, kiddo.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I figured that when you jumped in the pool and took up the star, you’d kick up more water than any Ranger ever on account of your kin and upbringing. From what I’ve heard, I’d say I was right. You might slow it down a bit though, you keep going at your current pace and you’re likely to burn out or get yourself dead long before you need to.”

  “I didn’t set out to do anything but be a good Ranger, Gordon. All the things that happened… just happened.”

  He laughed. “That’s how it usually goes. Just try and outlive your uncle, all right?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You get what you went after?”

  “Yes, and a lot more.”

  Gordon nodded with a pained look. “I wish I could have gone with you. Your aunt Carol and I will be going up to Geneva when you go.”

  “I never thought you wouldn’t.”

  “Your friend Ralph Sikes came by a couple of times. Made me happy seeing the kid.” Gordon had carried a terribly injured Ralph to medical aid following a bandit attack on the Sikes homestead many years before. The attack cost Ralph his left arm below the elbow, but Gordon’s actions inspired the young man to become a Ranger. Despite his disability, and ignoring the doubts many had about him, Ralph had acquitted himself very well during operations near Kings Town.

  “He’s still got fire in his eyes. Kid lost a hand to a bandit and still managed to stab the son of a bitch that did it. Pete Anders dropped the guy before it went any farther. Too bad we didn’t get there just a little earlier, but that spunky kid grew up big and strong. Well, you can’t change the past and it looks like the man’s doing just fine.”

  “He is.”

  “Thinking about that day and seeing the man that little kid grew into wearing a star made me feel proud… and old.”

  Jack laughed hoarsely.

  “You need to rest, Jack. I know the look of long trails, long days, and sleepless nights.”

  “I will, but I need to see if I can reach Geneva first.”

  “Phone lines are back up.” Gordon pointed in the direction of the Ranger HQ. “Make a Ranger priority call and they’ll get it through. Phone’s there, and you know where the spare bedroom is. Use’em.”

  . . . . .

  The next morning Jack traveled east to Camp Mead. He wasn’t looking forward to the meeting with Duke Straily. The Commander was a difficult man at best, but he had had an exceptionally antagonistic relationship with Hardin and continued to have one with Gordon and Art Sierra. Though unintentional, Jack had continued the family tradition.

  He entered the operations center and found that Straily wasn’t there. He didn’t have long to wait, the Ranger Commander arrived thirty seconds after Jack.

  They took a seat at a nearby table.

  “Quite a journey you took,” Straily said. “Let’s go over it in more detail.”

  Jack spent the next forty-five minutes relating the trip and answering questions.

  “I want you to stop in Heaven on your way back to Geneva. Relay the details about all this to the folks at the Ranger Center and leave the following day. You’ll be home in time to bury Hardin.”

  Jack nodded. He wasn’t happy about it, but it was expected.

  “I’ve gone over most of the documents the salvager Kay Rush brought in. I put some of our tech and intel crew to burning the midnight oil going through the documents you brought back.”

  “Barlo?” Jack said, referencing Barbara Louis, another of Geneva’s Rangers sent to Camp Mead.

  “Yes, among others. Sergeant Tucker had a team out well north of Geneva while you were gone. You are aware of this?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “They found something that fits with the intel you brought in. When you put all the pieces together, it seems to make your mission into the Blastlands a priority. This morning I dispatched Barlo up to Geneva to help make sense of it all. She has copies of everything. We’ll send anything new our folks here come up with as it occurs. I want you to move on this as quickly as possible. Bury your father, assemble your team, and go.” He paused, squinting
at Jack. “I am tempted to have Captain Drake head the mission, but you get things done it seems to me. My gut says it should be your show, so don’t prove my gut wrong. Make sure you choose your team members wisely, be sure you are fully prepared, then go. You got me, Sergeant Traipse?”

  “Got it.”

  “You’ll have a small army going north with you for the funeral. We can spare some for a couple of days. Your pa was well liked, no doubt about that. There’ll be more come in from other places. Captain Drake will conduct the service.” Straily pulled an envelope from a pocket and handed it to Jack. “Give that to Drake prior to the service if you would.”

  “I will.”

  “You know, chasing after that second case all the way to Old Norman was pretty bold.”

  “I thought it was necessary.”

  “It looks like it was. Bold and stupid are opposite sides of the same coin. You hang it out there and it comes up the right way, you’re bold. If it doesn’t… well, it plays you the fool or gets you dead. Sometimes both. What’s the saying, ‘fortune favors the bold?’ When in doubt, go bold has served Rangers well. It’s also spelled the end of many a Ranger. For what it’s worth, you did a fine job going out there to bring your pa back. It was best that it was you.”

  “Thanks, Commander.”

  “Give me a written account of your trip. We’ll set up the logistics to get everyone to Geneva for the funeral. You leave tomorrow.”

  Jack did as he was ordered, and then went to check on Jenny. He wanted to see about arrangements for her transport back to Geneva and found the hostler had already made them. With little to do and still a bit fatigued from his journey, he spent the remainder of the day with his aunt and uncle.

  . . . . .

  There was a small crowd at Kings Town’s train platform to see off the handful of Rangers and others departing with the coffin holding Hardin’s remains. Ben Barstow helped Gordon aboard. Chuck Harstens boarded immediately after. All three had been part of the nine-member team that would be Hardin’s last. Emily Barton and Mark Louis, the two children the Rangers rescued were traveling north as well.