The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  Jack walked briskly away from the blast area until the radiation readings fell. He stopped and knelt, feeling the exertion of the last few hours bearing down on him. It was more than that though, and he knew it. He faced the prospect of the long trip home and the agonizing uncertainty of the status of his unit. Tears welled in his eyes. They may need help, but I have to find them first, he thought. Crying certainly won’t help them. I just wonder who is left. He decided to move farther upwind, then make his way to Ranger Hill.

  He stood and drank some water. The wind was picking up, gusting ever more harsh. Jack grimaced and walked into it, pulling his hat off and cramming it into a thigh pocket before the gusts took it. He put his head down and shielded his eyes, better his hand be pelted by the stinging missiles blown up from the loess soil than his eyes.

  Jack walked a couple hundred steps when he heard something, the trudging of men coming from upwind. He ran to his left, entering a stand of misshapen trees with vines and strange brambles growing underneath. He knelt, concealing himself in the odd foliage, and watched the area to the west and north.

  Six men came into view as they walked in a ragged column less than a hundred meters away. They were obviously tired. They were TGG, and Jack guessed they were likely the only survivors of the L-11 force. Jack brought his rifle up, sighted on the lead man, and took up the slack from the trigger. The men stopped and looked open-mouthed at the smoke from the blast.

  Jack released the trigger and sighed. Maybe there’s been enough today. He pulled his filtration mask down. “It’s all gone,” he yelled over the wind.

  The men started at his voice, but didn’t fire.

  “What happened?” the leader yelled. The men scanned back and forth looking for the source of the voice, but could not locate Jack.

  “Someone blew it all up.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Sergeant Jack Traipse, Freelands Rangers.”

  “You did that?” he said with a point east.

  “You waste time. You are all that’s left of your force and there are still rads in the area. Go west and don’t come back. Life is a little too quick around here for the likes of you.”

  Some of the men snarled and brought their weapons to their shoulders, but the leader stopped them.

  “Go… while you can.”

  The leader gave a slight nod. “We will leave.” He paused. “This did not go as planned.”

  Jack thought of his team. “Does it ever?”

  The leader gave a small and grim smile. He gestured to his men and they followed him, trudging to the northwest. Jack watched them. Only once did any of them look back, the man at the rear paused and looked east once more, then he turned and followed his comrades. Jack watched them fade into the windblown dust, then he stood and resumed his march west.

  . . . . .

  Near the mass of burning trees to Jack’s east, north of the silo called L-02, a leafy branch heaved from movement underneath. Pushing the branch aside, a man stood and looked through the windblown flames at the blasted landscape to the south of him. He sensed something. This ground is the recipient of a great outpouring, he thought. We quested for the wrong objective, not what was to be. An error? Yes, or perhaps a sacrifice to aid in the shaping of events. A shrine or temple will be erected here. Father Atomic shapes and moves in strange ways. He saw the fire crawling its way to his position as he climbed free. He found his rifle on the ground nearby and picked it up, then pausing, looked around once more in search of something. He didn’t find what he was seeking. He shook his head in mild disappointment and set out northward, bound for a place of refuge just an hour’s march distant. He looked over his shoulder once to take in the scene of smoke and destruction, knowing he would return sometime. He cracked a smile, considering himself lucky and blessed that all he lost was his hat.

  . . . . .

  Flour Power rolled east, seven Rangers in the bed and Art Sierra riding alongside McCarty in the cab. They left the cousins Dando and Jerry Michaels about three and a half miles from Ranger Hill, and after establishing communications between the three Ranger elements, the remainder of the truck-borne force continued northeast.

  Amanda insisted they approach the area where they suspected Jack might be from the west. “If the explosion irradiated the area, he’ll move head on into the wind as fast as he can.”

  She placed the TROG on the top of the cab. Using the standard Ranger frequency, she called for Jack to respond, repeating the broadcast every few minutes.

  McCarty took them east until they came to a creek crossing with no bridge. Art climbed out and looked up and downstream, searching for a ford, but found nothing. He climbed back in the cab and looked at his map.

  He leaned toward McCarty and pointed at the map. “Let’s take the road north a quarter mile back.”

  McCarty threw the transmission into reverse. “You got it.”

  He took them north to see if the bridge on the next east-west road might still be intact. A large group of people stepped from the brush onto the road ahead. McCarty slowed as the people saw the truck. Some of them turned to flee, but were stopped by the others.

  “I don’t see any weapons,” Sean said from his place in the bed overlooking the cab directly behind McCarty.

  “He’s right,” Stark said from his position behind Art. “Not a one.”

  “Let’s see who they are.” Art said.

  “They look like more escapees from TGG.”

  McCarty started forward as Art, David, and Sean waved at the group. Many of the people waved back. McCarty stopped the truck nearby and Sierra climbed from the cab while Stark hopped out of the bed beside him.

  One member of the group stepped forward, a dark-haired man in his early thirties. He pointed at Art’s chest. “A man with an emblem like that freed us. Are you the same people?”

  “Rangers, from the Freelands. Where was this man that helped you?”

  “Rangers, yes, that’s what he said. We were near the missile site to the east, but that was before the explosion.”

  “Did you speak with him?”

  “Briefly. He killed a group of men who guarded us while the bulk of the GGs went to attack radiation worshipers. We removed our chains and ran when some of the GGs returned and shot at us. The Ranger fought them while we escaped. He was moving north when we last saw him.”

  “We’re looking for him.” Art’s eyes passed over the people in the group. “Any sick or injured?”

  The man shook his head. “No, but we have only a little water and no food. The Ranger said your Freelands was southwest.”

  “It is if you want to make it yours, but it’s a slog.” He looked back at the truck. “Looks like we’ll have to come up with a way to get these folks to the Freelands. Get Jerry on the horn and have him relay to Lieutenant Geiger that these people are coming.” Amanda nodded.

  Art gave the man directions to Ranger Hill. “We have clean food and water for you there.” He looked at the sky to the west. “Day’s gone grey on us. I don’t think there’s any rain coming for a day or two, just prairie winds. We make tracks, we’ll be in the Freelands before then.”

  Most in the group looked grateful, some wary.

  The dark-haired man nodded. “There were many more of us. Do you know of their fate?”

  “There are six of your fellow escapees at the hill,” Stark said. He named them. They’re fine. Some others escaped, but we don’t know what became of them. We’ll do what we can for you, whether you want to go it alone or come with us.”

  McCarty leaned his head from the cab. “Ask’em if the bridge up the way is still there.”

  The dark-haired man nodded. “We crossed a bridge and followed the creek to here. There is no road to speak of on the other side. Take the right to the north and you’ll see it.”

  Baker climbed from the truck. “Art, you want me to guide these people back?”

  “If I didn’t think there wasn’t trouble ahead, I’d say all right, but—”
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  “We can find the hill,” the dark-haired man said. “We found our way from the Homeland to here. Your description of the course will see us there.”

  Art told them where the radio relay position was and told them they would be able to see Ranger Hill from a distance. The Rangers gave them a few canteens of water and wished the travelers well, hoping they could follow directions. If so, the trio at the radio relay point would assist them from there.

  Art climbed into the cab while Stark and Baker boarded at the rear. McCarty soon had Flour Power rolling north. They turned east and found the road barely recognizable as such and once they crossed the old Pony truss bridge, they found it was just as the ex-Low One had described, there was little to indicate where the old roadway went. The rolling ground was a strange mix of tall grass with fingers of bare earth running through it like rips in cloth.

  Art leaned back and shouted through the rear window opening. “Keep your eyes open. That grass and the dips in the land will make it harder to spot things. If Jack’s being stealthy, it’ll be even tougher.”

  The faces of the Rangers in the truck made clear their concern. McCarty drove slowly, worried about unseen hazards in the wind-whipped grass. The winds also tore at the thick dark smoke that still rose from the site of the explosion, a place they closed on steadily. Everyone knew that if they didn’t find Jack soon, they would have to open their search area, and in doing so, lower the likelihood of finding him.

  The minutes dragged as frustrations mounted.

  David Stark lowered his binoculars. “I still got nothing.”

  Amanda looked fit to burst and wondered if they should search elsewhere, and if so, where? Before she could say anything, Art tapped on the outside of the door. “There’s more than nothing.” He pointed straight ahead. “Keep watch. Unless my old eyes deceive me, I’d say I saw something.” The truck went up a rise. Art detected movement through the blowing grass and directed McCarty to stop. “Eyes front,” he shouted over the wind.

  A man moved toward them, going from silhouette backdropped by the distant scene of destruction to recognizable figure walking head into the wind. He stopped. They could see an AKM in hand, another rifle attached to the side of his rucksack. He was tall, bespectacled, dark-haired and wore a Freelands Ranger star.

  Jennifer’s eyes widened. “It’s Jack.” She pressed her rifle into Sean’s hands and leapt from the bed, hitting the ground running toward him.

  Sean saw his friend, the burning trees and the silo still venting smoke in the distance. He shook his head. “The Blastlands indeed,” he muttered.

  McCarty pointed at Jennifer. “Want I should follow?”

  Art shook his head and smiled. “Give’em a minute.”

  Jack looked at his radiation meter. He was just shy of the yellow zone. Holding it away from his body at arm’s length made the needle drop slightly, he knew that meant his coveralls held at least some contamination. He looked up and blinked, stunned to see Jennifer running toward him, the windshield of a vehicle just visible over the edge of ground behind her. He smiled a smile she couldn’t see behind his mask and held up his radiation meter as she neared. “I’m a little hot. Stay back.”

  She didn’t stop. Instead she rushed to him and pulled his filtration mask from his face. “I don’t care just now,” she said, then she kissed him.

  Their lips parted and he took a deep breath. He had a pained look on his face. “What’s the damage? My team. Do you know?”

  “Ten wounded. A couple that will need a hospital stay, some others that will take some time to heal, but nothing serious. The rest are minor.”

  His brow furrowed. “I thought… the radio traffic sounded like….” He shrugged and shook his head in confusion and relief. He looked toward the truck and saw Rangers Stark, Hays, and Trahearn looking at him from over the cab. “I thought I’d lost most of them, maybe all of them.”

  “The rads must have thought their numbers could beat Ranger shooting. They were wrong. Art said you chose wisely putting the team on that hill.”

  “Good shooters in improved positions, that’s a tough nut to crack… it should’ve been obvious to anyone with sense. I guess the rads were lacking.” He thought of the rads’ operation in Old Norman and their head-on attacks against TGG’s positions the day before. He shook his head again and looked at Jennifer. “I’ll figure it out later. I’m glad you’re here.”

  She kissed him again.

  Jack held his radiation meter in front of him so she could see the display and smiled. “You never listen to me. How did you manage—?”

  “Annabelle Geiger. She arrived in Geneva and knows the medical equipment better than I do. That’s what you were going to ask?”

  He nodded and squinted his eyes in amusement. “Am I that predictable?”

  Jen pointed at the blasted and burning scene behind him. “Does that look predictable?”

  He turned and looked at the destruction. From their current vantage point, the blast area was clear, and the sheer size of it was apparent. He shuddered. “I guess not. I sure didn’t know it was going to go like that. Must have been quite a show… from afar.”

  The sound of the truck rolling came from behind them. Had he looked, Jack would have seen jaws dropping and incredulous looks from those aboard Flour Power as they saw the same scene he and Jennifer took in.

  “It was something all right,” Jennifer said. “Frightening too, knowing you were there. How close were you?”

  “Too close. Way too close.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll tell you all about it, but right now, I’ve got ringing ears, an aching head and back, radioactive coveralls, and… hell, I’m beat.”

  The truck pulled up next to them and stopped. “Still among the living I see,” Sean said, leaning out of the truck’s bed.

  Jack nodded. “No extra holes in you?”

  “Not a one. Now that we can account for you, we still have a full complement. We could have used those rifles of yours, but we did all right today.” He gestured to the east and smiled. “Not gonna ask how you managed that. Looks like you had a blast though.”

  Jack glared over the top of his glasses. “Yeah, somebody had to be the first to use that,” he said flatly. “Sorry you missed the fun.”

  “No, no, it’s okay. You play a little too rough for the rest of us. We had our own little shindig. It was plenty wild enough.” He smiled again. “So old buddy, you need a ride?”

  He returned the smile. “Depends. Where you headed?”

  “Ranger Hill, then an all expense paid walk to the Freelands.”

  Jack nodded and closed his eyes. “Home.”

  End

  . . .

  Thank you for your time spent with this book. If you enjoyed it and feel so inclined, please consider leaving a review at Amazon. Reviews are very much appreciated.

  Works by DK Williamson

  The Blastlands Saga(Rangers & Chasing Ghosts in one volume)

  The Blastlands: Rangers

  The Blastlands: Chasing Ghosts

  Conflict: The Pythan War:

  Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion

  R.R. Johnson Novels:

  The Lowdown in High Town

  Down Mean Streets

  Thunderbolt-56, a Novella

  . . . . .

  Visit DK Williamson’s author site: http://darrenkwilliamson.wordpress.com for more information on this and other works.

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right 2016 D.K. Williamson

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  Extras

  Glossary

  Defilade - A position where a unit or individual cannot be hit by direct fire. Reverse slopes, depressions, etc are examples.

  Enfilade - Fire directed from a flanking position, especially a position that can rake a unit/s in a lengthwise direction.

  HQ - Headquarters.

  Medico - Any person with formal medical training, though usually reserved for trained medics, nurses, and doctors.

  . . . . .

  Freelands Ranger Rank Structure

  Ranger Commander, abbreviated CDR, commonly referred to as Commander. Commands all elements of the Freelands Rangers.

  Ranger Captain, abbreviated CPT, usually called Captain. Commands a troop. There are three troops in the Freelands, Troops A, B, and C. Troop A operates in the north and west portion of the Freelands, Troop B in the central and east, Troop C in the south and west. Troops very rarely operate as a complete unit.