Wasteland Blues

by Scott Christian Carr

  ***

  Derek raced down the stairs. The creature looked up as Derek shoved the shotgun barrel in its face.

  “Eat this, you fucker,” screamed Derek. He pulled the trigger, but instead of a vengeful blast there was merely an impotent click. The firing mechanism had failed.

  “Huh huh huh! Huh huh huh!” It was the mutant, guffawing.

  Then Derek felt knobby fists on his chest and upper thigh, and suddenly he was flying through the dank air. He hit the wall hard and slumped down next to his brother. The mutant scuttled toward them then stopped in the middle of the room, unsure which of its victims to dispatch first—Derek and Teddy at the wall, or John by the staircase.

  Derek, dazed and in pain, looked up to see dark bodies leaping onto the creature—Cole and Sheba. The dogs knocked the mutant to the ground and began seeking its throat. The mutant gurgled with pain as the dogs tore open its right cheek and bit off an ear. It lashed out, cuffing the dogs aside with brutal blows. Then it leapt to its feet.

  ***

  “Hey freak,” came Leggy’s voice from the stairs.

  The mutant caught a thrown knife in its one good eye. It screamed with rage and hurt.

  Leggy watched in horror as the mutant raised one hand and pulled the blade from its skull. Now blind, it walked jerkily toward the staircase, holding the knife and slashing at the air.

  Then the basement exploded with thunder and light, and the creature was halted by a rifle bullet punching through its abdomen. It howled and then continued its advance.

  Magdalena chambered another round and lifted the rifle again. The second round obliterated a lung and flung the mutant backward against the ground, but, in an instant, it sprang up again, raced for them, and howled with demonic ferocity. The mutant was just three steps from the staircase when Magdalena’s final shot exploded its head. The creature flopped backward, convulsing on the floor. Its arms and legs furiously pounded the ground until finally it was still.

  Leggy looked up at Magdalena in surprise.

  “How did…? How can you…? You hit that thing three times.”

  Magdalena smiled grimly. “What I lack in sight, I make up for in hearing.”

  She scrunched her nose. “And smell.” She moved the rifle toward Leggy and touched the barrel to his chest, exactly over his heart.

  “If I concentrate, I can hear it beating,” she said. “I can hear John at the bottom of the stairs, and the two brothers at the far wall. And my dogs….” Here she faltered and looked confused.

  “Excuse me,” she said, moving carefully past Leggy.

  Leggy turned to follow her, then saw John, who was getting groggily to he feet at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Okay?” asked Leggy.

  John nodded.

  Leggy snaked his way over to Derek and Teddy, both of whom were sitting up.

  “You fellas all right?” asked Leggy.

  “Shit,” said Derek. “I hope that fucker didn’t crack m’ ribs.”

  Leggy probed with experienced fingers. Derek gasped.

  “I think you’re okay,” said Leggy. “But you’re gonna feel it for a few days. How ’bout you, Ted?”

  The giant rubbed his neck. “I’m okay. The bad thing tried to bite me.”

  At that moment John came over, wobbling slightly on his left ankle. “I thought you said this place was clear. Did you even bother to check down here?”

  “Sure I checked,” said Derek defensively. “It must’a been hiding.”

  “Hiding? You must be pretty goddamn stupid to let a mutie hide from you,” shouted John. “Didn’t you smell it?”

  Derek’s face flushed red with anger. He tried to rise to his feet but fell back again, clutching his ribs.

  “Hey now,” said Leggy sharply. “It was a mistake, that’s all. We took our licks for it, and that means it won’t happen again. Let’s be thankful we can all walk away from it.”

  “Not all of us,” said John, jerking a thumb toward Magdalena. She had felt her way over to the far corner of the basement, where her dogs were.

  “Cole’s dead,” said John.

  “What?” asked Derek.

  “The mutie broke his neck,” said John, hobbling away from them, going to comfort Magdalena.

  ***

  They buried Cole that night. John and Teddy took turns digging a grave with a shovel they found in the utility closet. Then they wrapped the German shepherd in an old blanket and lowered him gently down into the desert.

  “Goodbye Cole,” said Magdalena, her ruined eyes wet with tears. “You were a good dog, faithful and true. You guided me well and protected me. I’ll miss you.” She sprinkled a handful of dirt over the grave, and then wept openly.

  John stood, taciturn, one arm around Magdalena’s waist. Leggy and Teddy waited in respectful silence. Then John led Magdalena away. Teddy bent to the shovel and began to fill the grave. Sheba howled mournfully as Teddy worked.

  Derek watched it all from the shadow of the store, leaning up against the wall. He held his sore ribs and said nothing.

  ***

  They spent the night inside the store, after barricading the entrance with old shelves and other junk. Without a fire to gather around, they set up their blankets and bedrolls apart from each other. Leggy didn’t like it, but he didn’t say anything. Besides, they’d had a hard day and needed rest, not chit-chat. Still, the death of the dog had driven a wedge into the group. Something should be said, but Leggy was too tired to deal with it. Not tonight. Let them sleep.

  But Leggy himself found it difficult to get comfortable. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping outdoors, and he found it strange to be staring up at a cobwebbed ceiling rather than a magnificent sweep of stars. The old store felt stuffy, and the warped floor creaked and popped as the others turned in their sleep.

  He thought about taking his own bedroll outside, but that would mean waking one of the boys to undo the barricade. So he settled himself in as best he could. A nip or two would help settle him, but that was moot—his flask was empty, and the last drink he’d had was some moonshine swill that Mother Morgan had dished out. Oh well.

  Eventually he must’ve dozed off because he sat up with a start, his mind fuzzy and confused. He felt a sense of alarm, some instinct that had triggered him awake. He looked around the store. The others were asleep, breathing slow and easy. A patch of moonlight had crept inside the room from a high window above the counter. Leggy looked. There was a flash of movement. Had there been a pair of eyes at the window?

  Fully alert now, Leggy swept the store with his gaze, listening closely. He thought for a moment it might be another mutie, but that was unlikely. Muties were solitary creatures, with a cannibalistic bent. They had no qualms about turning on one another when there was no other prey to be found. Besides, muties didn’t sneak up on you. If one were outside, they would’ve heard it trying to smash through the barrier.

  That left only outlaws. He looked to where John and Magdalena and Sheba lay in a far corner. The Shepherd was asleep. Surely she would’ve scented something. Wouldn’t she?

  Leggy watched the window, and then the barricaded door, but saw nothing. He watched and waited a full thirty minutes, but all seemed quiet. He thought about waking Teddy, getting him to clear the barricade so he could check the perimeter, but decided against it. It was probably nothing. He lay down again.

  ***

  The next morning Leggy was first out the door once Teddy had heaved aside the shelves and junk that blocked them in. The old man’s bladder was full and he was heading for the side of the building to take a piss when a sight brought him up short—sitting in front of the rusting gas pumps was a boy.

  He was dressed in a faded blue singlet with a makeshift turban tied incorrectly over his head. The folds of linen threatened to f
all down over his bulbous head. Leggy swallowed and made no expression as he noticed the boy had six toes on each foot.

  The boy was sunburned, and his narrow face gaunt. He leaned against the gas pumps like he might fall asleep. As Leggy approached, the child stirred.

  “Hello,” said the boy. “My name is Samuel. Why did you bury the dog?”

  “Bury the dog?” asked Leggy.

  The boy studied Leggy carefully. As he did so, Leggy felt a strange warmth on his forehead, like sunlight concentrated through the lens of a magnifying glass into a hot point.

  “Oh,” said Samuel. “He was killed by a mutant. That’s very sad. He seemed like a nice dog. I’ve always wanted to meet a dog. Do you think Sheba will play with me?”

  The heat continued to penetrate Leggy’s skull, and suddenly he felt as if his mind were being rummaged through. It was a nauseating feeling, and his stomach quivered. In his thoughts he shouted, “Stop that. Leave me be. Get out!”

  The heat dissipated immediately.

  Samuel said “I’m sorry, Mr. Nicodemus. Karen said I should never read people without their permission, but sometimes it’s the easiest way to find things out.”

  Leggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. His stomach settled itself. He stared at the strange boy. “Samuel,” was all he could think to say.

  The boy made no reply.

  “Do you…do you live out here?” Leggy asked.

  “No. I lived back in the valley, down in the bunker.” He smiled. “You called it bunker number two. Karen called it Bag End. Did you ever read The Hobbit?”

  “Valley? Bunker? Jesus H. Christ, are you tellin’ me you lived down in the ground? Inside that place old Youslus was tryin’ to dig up?” asked Leggy.

  “I don’t know who Youslus is, but somebody sure was trying to get in. I could hear them knocking, at first. And then later, I could hear the drill. It wouldn’t have worked though. They built the compound to survive a direct hit, even from bunker busters and nukes.”

  “Right,” said Leggy, unsure how to respond.

  “Did you know I was in stasis for eighty years? That’s what the computer said. When I was little, I used to think they said they were going to put me in Stacy. Isn’t that funny? You don’t put someone in Stacy. You put them in stasis. That means they can go to sleep for a long time.”

  At that moment the door opened, and the rest of the travelers emerged onto the porch.

  “Holy shit,” said Derek. “Who’s the kid?”

  “Kid?” asked Magdalena in surprise.

  Sheba barked.

  Samuel’s eyes went wide and a huge grin erupted on his face. “Hi dog,” he said. “C’mere Sheba. C’mere!”

  Sheba, tail wagging, leapt from the porch. Samuel dropped to one knee as the dog approached. She sniffed him eagerly and began to lick his face. Samuel shrieked with delight and buried his hands in the dog’s fur.

  After a long minute of licking, Samuel stood up again. “Sit,” he said.

  Sheba sat.

  “Shake.”

  Sheba raised a paw, which Samuel took in his hand and shook.

  “Good girl,” he said, releasing the paw and patting Sheba on her head. Then he looked up at the people on the stairs.

  “She’s a great dog. Really great. Can I come with you to New York?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They walked all morning but spoke very little. Derek led the way, while behind him Teddy led Minna and Afha, who carried Leggy. John and Magdalena brought up the rear, lagging behind and frequently turning to scan the highway behind them while Sheba panted and trotted alongside.

  Because there had been no supplies worth looting at the GAS ‘N GO, Derek had offered to skin and filet the mutie, just in case things got really bad. Leggy laughed at him.

  “You gonna eat that shit?” The old man choked. “You just see how friggin’ sick that don’t make you! Haw haw, you sure are a newbie, ain’t ya, Derek? First day in the Wasteland, eh son? Haw ha ha.” Leggy held himself until his giggling abated, then he remarked, “You know what they say, ‘Ya’eat one, ya’are one!’” Then he burst into a renewed fit of laughter.

  “What’s so goddamned funny?” demanded Derek.

  Leggy snorted again. “Well, it’s not exactly funny. It’s just that we got our asses handed to us by a single low-grade, border-waste, run-of-the-mill, half-starved, half-assed mutie. That mute didn’t got a tenth o’ the muster of a full-blown Wasteland mutie. ’Bout time you boys got a taste of what we’re heading into. And I’m talkin’ to you too, John.”

  “That ‘run-of-the-mill’ mutie,” said Magdalena, “killed my dog.”

  Leggy’s smile froze and slumped into a frown. It was late afternoon and the heat seemed to be pouring down in sheets from the hot, radioactive sky.

  “Well, gee Missy, I didn’t mean it like that. He was a good dog and all, and I’m genuinely sorry for your loss. But, and I mean no disrespect, we got away lucky. I’m just saying that we’re on a dangerous road. We’ve got to be prepared is what I’m saying. All of us.”

  ***

  The company walked on in silence—the cracked tarmac warm beneath their feet, unfolding seemingly without end before them. The mountains shrank behind them, and the flat desert stretched on endlessly ahead and to the sides. Puddles of heat shimmered in the distance.

  At one point the highway came to a stop before a dry creek bed. It had once been bridged, but the bridge had tumbled to ruin. They were forced to climb down a ten foot embankment, hike through a tangle of gorse and sage, and scale the steep cement abutment back up onto the highway again. It was grueling work, especially for Minna and Afha, who would not have been able to make the climb without Teddy’s help.

  The travelers were thankful that, for the most part, the interstate seemed to have survived weather, wear, and the passage of time—not to mention nuclear weapons.

  ***

  At the end of the day the sun dipped low onto the horizon, looking to Leggy like a fiery egg breaking on the radioactive frying pan of the world. He smiled grimly at the thought. He reckoned it would be a long time before he tasted eggs again.

  He turned himself on Afha and looked back at the highway in the direction from which they’d come.

  Derek noticed and called, “He still followin’ us?”

  “Yep.”

  “Aw Hell, I was hoping he would’ve turned back by now.”

  “’Nope,” Leggy said.

  John cleared his throat. “Seems a pity to leave him straggling like that.”

  “Pity?” said Derek. “If you really felt pity, you’d send him back to his bunker. Or put a bullet in his head. The Wasteland is no place for a kid.”

  John rebuked Derek with a look. Leggy sighed.

  “He must be so thirsty,” said Magdalena. “Such small legs for such hard walking.”

  “Fine. Fuck it, then,” said Derek. “We’ll stop here. He can catch up and we’ll camp for the night.”

  Leggy sighed again and then cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered down the highway, “All right kid. You win. You can come with us. Now hurry up, cause we got some chores for you to do. If you wanna ride with the big boys, you’re gonna earn your keep!”

  ***

  Samuel staggered into their camp thirty minutes later. His singlet was sweat-stained and torn at one arm. “Hello,” he said. “Does this mean you’ll let me come with you?”

  Derek said nothing. Leggy just rolled his eyes.

  Samuel sat down next to Sheba and shrugged out of his pack. He drank deeply from a large water bottle and looked at the campfire. He thought for a moment and then said brightly “Does anyone have marshmallows?”

  “What the Hell are you talking about?” Derek was already irritated by the strange chi
ld’s presence.

  “Or not,” said Samuel. “I’ve never had a marshmallow before. I never ate outside before, either. The doctors didn’t like me going outdoors.”

  “Hungry?” asked John, handing a tin to Samuel.

  “What’s a marsh mellow?” grunted Derek.

  “Thank you,” said Samuel. He gave the tin a disappointed look. “This is the same stuff we ate at Bag End.” He frowned.

  They sat around the fire in uncomfortable silence, watching the boy eat. Though they all had questions for Samuel—about the bunker and what he had been doing in there, about why he wanted to go with them—they also found him disconcerting.

  No one knew quite what to say to the strange boy, and no one seemed willing to ask the first question. And so, they ate in silence until, after a while, the small newcomer began to hum softly to himself, and then to sing,

  ***

  The Road goes ever on and on,

  Down from the door where it began…

  Now far ahead the Road has gone,

  And I must follow, if I can…

  ***

  Derek rolled his eyes. This couldn’t possibly get more annoying.

  Samuel had finished his meal. His lips and chin were stained with gravy, but he seemed not to notice. Nor did he notice the uncomfortable mixture of rapt curiosity and embarrassed tension with which the others regarded him. Only Teddy seemed truly comfortable around the boy and soon took out his flute to accompany the strange song.

  ***

  The next morning they cleared camp and hit the road again. The day was overcast, with skeins of dark cloud obscuring the sun. Samuel walked happily alongside Teddy, his head bobbing from side to side, trying to take every detail of the blasted landscape into his wide eyes.

  As the morning wore on, the air grew still and was charged with electricity. When they stopped for lunch, Leggy appraised the sky.