Suddenly, John realized that the pit next to the abutment was an excavation. The hole had been dug into the ground next to the concrete structure. In fact, the old man had managed to bore himself a tunnel of sorts that ran several yards downward and into the very heart of the concrete. The mountain of gravel that the old man had been resting upon was, in fact, countless decades of concrete chipped away from the strange artifact.
“What is it?” asked Leggy.
“Damned if I know,” exclaimed the hermit. “If I knew what it was, do you think I would have spent my whole life diggin’ away at it? And my daddy before me?”
Leggy shook his head. “Your whole life?”
Derek leaned over and whispered to the old hauler. “Is it one of your stockpiles? One of those army bases you was talking about?”
Leggy shrugged. “Don’t know. To tell you the truth, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Something occurred to John. He turned to the old hermit. “You said your daddy used to work on digging this thing up before you. He must’ve named you, then. He must’ve called you something.”
The old man smiled broadly, revealing cracked lips and more rotting teeth. “’Course he did. He called me ‘Boy.’ But considering my age, and your youth, I don’t think it’d be appropriate fer you to be calling me that.”
They all laughed at this. “Bingo!” Teddy offered. “Barney?”
John peered into the pit. From here he could see the nearest wall of the pit sloped downward at a steep sixty degrees, a slippery access to the point of primary excavation.
“You dug this all by yourself?” he asked.
“Yep,” grinned the hermit proudly. “Well, my daddy started it, but I been chippin’ away at it long as I can remember. It’s my life’s work.”
“No doubt,” said Leggy. “You try blasting?”
“Yep. But it’s reinforced like a motherfucker.” The old-timer looked Teddy up and down then walked in a circle around him, sizing up Teddy’s enormous form, his strong arms and solid back. “There’s as much steel down there as concrete. I’m beginning to think I may not see my way into it in my lifetime. And I’ve no progeny to hand over the shovel to.”
Leggy turned to the old man. “I take it not too many lady-folk pass through here. ’Specially not the motherin’ sort.” He laughed.
“Not a whole lotta anybody passing through here,” the old man agreed. “Occasionally a coyote. Every couple’a years or so a mutie or two’ll wander up from the Wastes. But that’s about it. Used to be, when I was a lad, there was some trouble with raiders, but not no more. And the traders, they never come through here. Hell, I haven’t seen a trader or Bedouin in well over fifteen years. I ain’t seen no one worth talking to in…shucks, in quite a long time.”
John poked Derek and pointed. A few yards past the strange excavation, where the valley floor met the base of the canyon wall, something gently stirred on the ground. Indeterminate shapes seemed to blend in with the white granite and gray slate. He squinted, and then gasped and jumped back with a start.
There, nestled together, emitting soft purring and chittering sounds, huddled three of the moth-creatures, fast asleep.
Their wings were folded like paper fans and held tightly against their backs. In the light of day, John could see that their bodies were translucent. He could just make out the grayish coils of internal organs and the motion of ichor through veins and arteries. The translucent skin was covered with a sparse down of white fuzz. Long feathered antennae drooped lazily over closed eyes. The delicate bodies of the creatures were dusted with a fine white powder that also covered the ground and wall where they lay.
In their sleep, John thought, they looked all the more angelic.
Each of the creatures was pierced. A fist-sized, rusted eye-hook broke the skin at the rear of each of the three bulbous bodies. The skin appeared to have healed and grown around the hooks, as if they’d worn the metal adornments for a long time, perhaps all their lives. Each hook was affixed to a thin silken length of cord, which was coiled neatly on the ground and staked securely into the cliff face with an iron spike.
“What’s with the bugs?” asked Derek.
The old hermit smiled. “Them’s my pets. Caught ’em myself. They make a pretty sight at night, fluttering toward the moon and stars.”
When no one spoke, the hermit bent forward and picked up an armful of shovels and a pickaxe. He handed one to each of the group, including Leggy, “Well, let’s say we get in a few good hours of digging before dinner, eh?”
Chapter Sixteen
“Fuck that,” said Derek, tossing aside the pickaxe. “We’re not digging. We can still get in a few miles before dark.”
The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Not dig? But with your help I might be able to crack this nut.” He turned and patted Teddy’s shoulder. “Especially this one.”
“Flabia!” said the giant. “How about Flabia?”
The old man shook his head no.
Teddy bit his lip and returned to his word hoard.
“Just think how quick we could get this done,” said the old man. “We could work two shifts, day and night. At that rate, I figure we’d open this old whore in three, maybe four years!”
“Four years?” scoffed Derek. “We don’t even know who the hell you are. Why should we spend four years diggin’ your hole?”
Now the old man’s eyebrows threatened to leap straight off his face. “Why help? To find out what’s in there! Saints and angels! Don’t you got any curiosity?”
“Who cares what’s in there?” said Derek. “Probably a lot of useless junk from the Before Times.”
“Useless?” hooted the old man. “Useless?” He scrambled toward what appeared to be the mouth of a small cave set into the canyon wall. He was amazingly spry, considering his age.
“Let’s go,” said Derek. “This old man is cracked.”
But before they could make their exit, the hermit re-emerged bearing a large crate. He staggered over to them and dropped it at their feet.
“Useless?” he said, reaching into the crate. He emerged with a brick-shaped tin. Pulling a ring tab at one end of the tin, he popped it open. “You call that useless?” he said, shoving it under Derek’s nose.
Inside the tin was shredded beef, mashed potato, and carrots and green beans, all divided into neat portions. The food looked fresh and smelled good.
“Go on and try it,” insisted the old man. “I got stacks more just like it. You just try it, and tell me if it’s useless.”
Derek turned his nose away, but Teddy stuck a big finger into the beef, which was covered in gravy. He licked his finger thoughtfully then lifted the tin out of the old man’s hands and proceeded to devour its contents.
The old man reached into the crate again, this time emerging with an armful of rattling bottles. He lined up several on the ground.
“Pills,” he said. “I take these ones when I get sick,” he said, pointing to a bottle labeled Amoxicillin. “I take these if I can’t sleep,” he said, indicating a second bottle. “And I take this one if I ain’t feelin’ so energetic—pep me right up, it does. And these ones.” He indicated yet another plastic bottle. “They just make me feel sorta funny. You know, in the head. So I only take those ev’ry now and then.”
Next, the old man pulled out a fat, short wand with a black grill at one end and several buttons on the other. Leggy, Derek, and John leaned in. The old man also took out a pair of small stoppers and inserted one into each ear. Then he grinned slyly at his guests and hit one of the buttons.
Instantly they were blasted by a shriek of noise, a two-tone siren that seemed to detonate in their ears. They fell back as if struck by a blow. Ahfa reared, threatening to throw Leggy from the saddle. Teddy put his hands over his head and howled, his own
roar of pain drowned out by the siren. The moths awoke with a start and leapt into the sky. They were halted painfully by the lengths of rope affixed to their piercings. The sound rocked back and forth between the canyon walls.
The old man pushed the button again. The horrible siren cut out, but it took several long seconds for the echoes to exhaust themselves in the canyon.
“Pretty good, huh?” he said, removing the stoppers from his ears as the group recovered themselves. “I ain’t had no trouble with muties, raiders, bears, coyotes, or bugs since I found this little beauty.”
Derek, who was torn between anger and awe, said “Where’d you get all this?”
“From the first bunker,” said the old man. “The first bunker my daddy dug up.”
“You mean this isn’t the first?” asked John.
“Heck no. That’s number two,” said the old man. “Number one is a couple hundred yards south of here. We cracked it about thirty years back. Daddy figured since we found so much good stuff in that bunker, we might as well try this one. Problem is, this one turns out to be a Helluva lot tougher than the first. A Helluva lot tougher. Which indicates to me that the things inside must be that much better.” He turned and winked at Derek. “You still think what I’m doing here is useless?”
“Youslus,” shouted Teddy. “That’s it that’s it that’s it. Your name is Youslus!” He grasped the old man and shook hands properly.
Youslus eventually extracted himself from Teddy’s grip and looked them all in the eye. “Well then, now that we’re on a first-name basis, what do you say we get started diggin’?”
“I must admit,” said Leggy, scratching his head, “I’m mighty curious about what might be in there.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” agreed Youslus.
“But four years?” John said. “That’s an awful long detour.”
“Way too long,” said Derek. “Not gonna happen.”
“Well, maybe three years,” said Youslus. “I got a few things I ain’t showed you yet that might help speed up the dig.”
“I think,” said Leggy carefully, “that we’ll just be on our way. But good luck to you.”
Youslus frowned. “You sure? Really?”
Leggy nodded his head.
“Well, I suppose I can’t expect everyone to be as curious as me.”
He looked them over once more, and then turned his eyes up to the darkening sky. The sun had dropped completely behind the Sierras, and daylight was fading rapidly to dusk.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider stayin’ here for the night? I got plenty of food and water. And I ain’t had no one to talk with since Daddy died. I’d appreciate your company.”
“I believe we could stay the night,” said John, stepping forward before anyone else could decline.
Derek opened his mouth to protest, but John was already moving toward the small cave, his eyes fixed on the captive angels. Teddy followed quickly, asking Youslus if there were any more of the delicious tins.
Youslus chuckled. “Round here you got two choices for vittles—whatever’s in the tin or whatever’s on the ground.” He reached down and picked up a rock. “And this is all that’s on the ground.”
Teddy took the rock and sniffed it. Licked it. Frowned. And chucked it far into the distance.
“Tin,” said Teddy.
“Yep,” agreed Youslus.
***
For an insane man, Youslus made a good host, thought John.
Youslus invited them into his cave. It was dry, high-ceilinged, and crammed with food tins, digging implements, and other strange items—presumably salvaged from bunker number one—including some kind of lantern that didn’t run on oil or batteries. Youslus simply turned a switch and two white tubes inside the thing began to glow. When Leggy asked about its power source, Youslus just shrugged. It was another excavated treasure, but he had no idea how it worked. He placed the lantern on a niche in the rock wall, and led them to a small, spring-fed pool near the back of the cave.
As they washed trail dust off their hands and faces with clear, cold water from the pool, Derek turned on John. “What the Hell is wrong with you, volunteering us to stay the night?”
John looked at the ground. “The old coot’s lonely. He wanted some company. I just felt sorry for him.”
In fact, that wasn’t the reason at all. John had a plan, one that he didn’t want to share with his companions. He was going to set those moths free. He still felt guilty for the moths that had been killed at their campsite. If he freed these creatures, it might ease his mind.
“Well, let’s just hope we don’t end up feelin’ sorry for ourselves if he decides to pickaxe us in our sleep,” said Derek.
When they returned, they found Youslus had peeled the lids off a number of food tins. He pressed them into his guests’ hands. John asked how old they were.
Youslus shrugged. “Don’t know. My daddy and I found ’em maybe thirty years ago. But I’m sure they’re a lot older than that. Don’t make no difference. The food’s still good. Look at me—I been eatin’ ’em for decades, and I’m fit as a fiddle.”
John thought he might contest that point, but the rich scent of beef and gravy trumped his arguments. As they ate, Youslus inquired about their journey. He regarded their attempt to cross the Wasteland as sheer madness, but that didn’t stop his questions. He was thirsty for talk, and he soaked up everything he could about them.
“Any of you fellas have experience with motors and such?” he asked at one point.
John looked at Leggy. “He used to fix our generator back home.”
“I see,” said Youslus, “and how did you come across that skill?”
Leggy pursed his lips. “You could say I have an affinity for mechanical parts. I used to work on engines when I was a hauler—motorcyles, automobiles, mostly. Even a couple military vehicles way back.”
“Is that so?” asked Youslus. A delirious grin split his beard like Moses parting the seas.
***
As the stack of empty tins grew, John felt himself growing sleepy, almost irresistibly so. He fought hard against the feeling. He wanted to stay awake so that he could sneak out in the middle of the night and free the moths. He looked around at his companions and saw that they too were droopy-eyed and yawning—everyone except for Youslus. The old man was wide awake and as sharp as a tack, watching his guests with eager, hungry eyes.
John didn’t like that look. He considered standing up and rousing his companions, but a great weariness had entered his limbs. The urge to sleep was growing stronger now. He thought it must be left over poison from the snakebite, but then he remembered the bottles that Youslus had shown them earlier—the one with the pills to help him sleep.
“I think…I think something’s wrong,” murmured John. He turned to Derek, who was now fast asleep on the floor. John nudged him but got no response. Leggy’s head had drooped forward onto his chest, and Teddy, who had eaten almost a dozen tins, began to snore.
John looked at Youslus, who was watching him fight the sleep.
“What’d you do?” asked John. He was flickering in and out of consciousness now, so that the old man’s face seemed to double and jump in and out of focus.
“Nightie night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” said Youslus with a wide grin.
John sank into a long and dreamless slumber.
***
John awoke with the sun in his eyes and curses in his ear. He squinted and held up a hand against the light. As his vision came into focus, he realized he was outside, at the base of the canyon wall. His ankle hurt, and he bent to examine it. He was surprised to find himself in irons. A steel cuff was strapped around his left ankle. The cuff was attached to a short length of thick, rusty chain that ran to a bolt driven into the rock wall of the canyon.
He looked to his right and saw the source of the curses. It was Leggy, cuffed at the wrist, his chain also ending in a bolt in the rock face. Derek was to his left, still asleep, with a cuff on his left ankle. Beyond Derek were the moths that John had hoped to set free.
In front of them lay Teddy, unbound. His chest rose and fell with the deep, easy rhythm of drug-induced sleep.
“That goddamn son of a bitch,” cursed Leggy, heaving himself into a sitting position. “He must’ve pilled us. My head is killing me.” He turned and looked at John. “You all right?”
John nodded. He was as all right as he could be, considering the situation.
“Can you reach Teddy?” Leggy asked. “He ain’t tied for some reason.”
John stretched forward to the full length of his chain, but Teddy remained out of reach.
“He’s not bound because he’s going to help me,” said Youslus, emerging from his cave. He stopped and looked them over. He had Derek’s shotgun in one hand.
At that moment Derek began to stir. They all watched him as sat up, rubbed his eyes several times and then looked around. It didn’t take long for him to comprehend their predicament. When he did, he cast a withering look at John.
“Just a harmless old coot, huh? Just lonely for some talk, huh? Swear to God John, you sure got us in a fix.”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on him,” said Youslus with a grin. “You’ll see it differently when we crack that bunker open.”
“Why hasn’t Teddy woken up yet?” asked Derek.
“He got a larger dose than the rest of you,” said Youslus. “I might’ve overdid it a bit, just to be sure he went down. Not to mention, he ate quite a lot of the tins. But he’ll wake up, by and by.”
Wasteland Blues Page 14