Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  “They didn’t follow the plan,” Ed repeated like a mantra. His voice rose as he turned toward the other cell. “You didn’t follow the plan!” he yelled. “Why didn’t you follow the fucking plan?”

  No response came from the adjoining cell.

  “You might wanna pipe down,” a voice said from behind him.

  Ed whirled around, chest rising and falling. Eyes wild, he fixed the owner of the voice in a piercing stare. A man in his late-thirties with brown, unkempt hair and a beard reaching down to his chest put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, man, just slow down.”

  “They take the troublemakers,” a woman said. Dirty streaks smeared her face. Ed could smell her as she approached. “The loud ones are considered trouble.”

  “What do you mean ‘take’? Take them where?” Trish asked.

  “They take them and they don’t come back,” the woman said. “You don’t want to know what they do with them.”

  “They ain’t taking me,” Terry said. “Not without a goddamn fight.”

  “They have guns,” the bearded man said. “It’s no use.”

  Terry puffed up his chest. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d rather take a bullet than wait for these creeps to do to me whatever it is they got planned.”

  “I don’t care anymore,” the woman replied. She walked away, taking a seat against the back wall of the cell, her gaze locked on the floor.

  “Tina lost her daughter,” the bearded man said. “They took her right after they locked us up.”

  “Who’s Tina?” Trish asked.

  The bearded man pointed toward the woman sitting against the wall.

  “Jimmy, don’t talk about it,” Tina said, her eyes still on the floor. “I can’t do it all over again.”

  Jimmy leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “They take the kids first,” he said. “Tina saw what happened, but we don’t know what they do with them. She won’t tell us.”

  The sound of keys jangling on a ring broke the taut silence. A door opened at the far end of the room and three men stepped through. Once inside the room, the two men in front parted to allow the third through.

  Ed swallowed hard. He recognized the man immediately.

  Enoch.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After another couple of miles of Lester talking and Sam listening with rapt attention, Lester stopped and pointed ahead, Sam’s broomstick handle stretched across his shoulders. “We’re going to want to avoid this stretch of road,” he said. “Bad patch.”

  “What do you mean?” Chloe asked, balancing her own pillowcase and broomstick contraption.

  “Road gangs and the like. What they used to call highwaymen. They’ve claimed the next couple of miles as their own. You don’t want to get caught by these guys.” Lester looked toward Chloe and then back to Sam. “Especially a young girl like you.”

  “What’s that mean?” Sam asked.

  “These men are anything but gentlemen,” Lester replied. “I surely don’t need to tell you what they’re capable of, even as young as you are.”

  Sam stopped and considered for a moment, his eyes registering the moment he understood. “Oh, yeah,” he replied, glancing toward Chloe. “Do you know a way around then?”

  “This is your lucky day,” Lester replied, “because I do.”

  “How?” Chloe asked.

  “I’ve been living along this roadway for the last year or so. A scavenger needs a large territory if they want to survive. Only so much food left and it’s not concentrated in one place anymore. I made the mistake of running into these men during one of my runs. I barely made it out alive.” He raised an eyebrow. “But if the two of you are determined to go through, then by all means, don’t let me dissuade you. You’ll just have to do it alone. Coming that close to death is something I never want to do again.”

  “We might be young but we’re not stupid,” Sam said, standing up to his full height. “We’ll go with you and your shortcut. Right, Chloe?”

  Chloe sighed. “Right.”

  Lester smiled wide. “Wise choice. Now follow me.” Lester stepped off the highway and into the weedy field.

  Chloe watched as Sam followed. Around them, birds perched on defunct power lines. A butterfly fluttered randomly while crickets chirped a symphony around them. It struck her how beautiful the scene might have been, under different circumstances.

  A dozen steps out, Sam turned slowly, balancing their supplies on the horizontal broomstick. “You coming?”

  Chloe frowned.

  “What?” he said, shrugging.

  “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

  Chloe balanced the broomstick on her shoulders and followed them into the field, unable to shake an undefinable sense of trepidation.

  * * *

  The trio trekked through the waist-high weeds, away from the road. Eventually a sad and dilapidated farmhouse appeared, its shingles cracking and its external paint peeling. Lester had never seen the house before—hadn’t even been in the area—but it looked like it might be secluded enough to have survived the worst of the post-virus scavenging. Sometimes these places had still-functioning hand pump wells nearby; a drink of cold water sounded damn near perfect.

  Lester smiled as he walked, smitten with himself. His bluff—allowing the teenagers the choice to go off on their own—had paid off. That he was a murderer Lester never denied, but a cheat he was not. He worked his targets like a hunter stalking prey, outsmarting and outwitting them. If the two had chosen to take the stretch of highway and make off on their own, he would have let them go. That would, after all, be fair. He’d lied about the road gangs, of course, but lying was not cheating, merely manipulation. Part of the game. And who knew…maybe highwaymen did lurk along that roadway, waiting for the next unsuspecting victim.

  Ultimately, the choice had to be Chloe’s. She had to fall for the ruse and choose her own fate. Anything less than that would be unscrupulous. Thankfully she’d already made that choice. She belonged to him now, but he wouldn’t rush it. Time remained to savor the experience of the hunt, to gradually build to the utter bliss of total and complete domination of his quarry.

  Plenty of time, indeed.

  Certain he’d now firmly established himself as the adult of the group, Lester would begin the process of asserting his control. Little by little he’d assume more and more of the decision-making, so deftly that they wouldn’t even notice it. For now, however, he simply made suggestions.

  As they looped around the back of the run-down farmhouse, he spied in the backyard a well with a pump. Bingo, he thought. He could almost taste the cool, crisp well-water rushing down his throat. The apparatus appeared to be in decent condition—well, not rusted at least—so it seemed possible it might actually refill their canteens with bacteria-free water.

  Lester stopped and pointed. “We should refill the canteens, don’t you think?”

  Chloe took a long look at the contraption. “Think it still works?”

  “It has a handle, so it doesn’t need electricity. I’d say it’s possible.” Lester replied. “Worth a shot, eh?”

  “Yeah,” Sam replied. “Lester, do you know how it works?”

  Lester had, in fact, used a pump very similar to this one. As a child in summer camp he’d taken his turn pumping out clean water for the group. He’d also tortured and mutilated two baby rabbits that summer. All ended up being useful skills.

  “I think so,” Lester replied. “Been a while since I used one of these, but I’ll give it a try.”

  Sam and Chloe lowered their supplies to the ground, stretching tired muscles. Lester took two steps toward the pump before he heard the unmistakable sound of a shell being racked into a shotgun’s chamber.

  “You can just freeze your ass right there,” a gruff, female voice barked. “Maybe you can tell me exactly what you merry bunch of assholes plan to do with my well.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Where are the children?” Enoch asked.
r />   One of the men with Enoch pointed. “In the far cell.”

  Ed’s insides went cold. “No,” he said. “No, no, no.”

  Ed’s voice caught Enoch’s attention. The cult leader made his way slowly toward the chain link fencing. He stopped and stared at Ed. “You are their guardian, I assume?”

  “I’m their father,” Ed replied, his mouth dry.

  Enoch nodded. “I see. You’ve cared for them well. A father should care for his children, don’t you agree?”

  Ed didn’t reply.

  Enoch continued, unabated. “Abraham cared for his son as well. This was his duty and it was good.” He paused, meeting Ed’s eyes. “But at times, God calls for a sacrifice. When He does then He must not be denied.”

  “What? Sacrifice? What the hell are you talking about?” Ed said.

  Enoch gave Ed a look that almost resembled pity. “I understand such things can be hard for a father to accept. Abraham struggled as well. And yet when the time came to serve God’s will, Abraham complied. His duty as a son to Jehovah the father was more important than his own duty as a father.”

  Ed’s stomach twisted into knots. The entire room went silent. The smell of mildew was overpowering. He thought he might vomit.

  “You must understand that we do not enjoy this duty, but a duty it is,” Enoch continued. “Our God is just and good, no doubt, but to serve is to fear. To serve is to do what He asks and question not his motives. Our God keeps us safe and we do his bidding, as good children should.” Enoch called out to the other cell. “Are you ready to do your God’s bidding, children?”

  Ed felt his self-control dissipate. “Don’t you lay a fucking hand on them!” he screamed, tearing at the fence. The second man with Enoch produced a rifle from beneath his robes, aiming at the occupants of the cell.

  “No need for profanity. I understand your sense of loss, but know that God has plans for your son that you as a mortal could never comprehend.”

  Ed shook the fencing, wrenching it back and forth as if to tear it free from its fastenings. “Leave them alone!” he screamed.

  Enoch turned to his left-hand guard. “Prepare the younger boy.”

  The man nodded, removing a set of keys from a pocket sewn within his white robe. He walked to the adjoining cell, disappearing behind the separating wall. Ed could hear Jeremy struggle as the man subdued him.

  “Jeremy! No!” Ed screamed.

  Moments later the man reappeared, holding Jeremy tightly. The boy kicked and struggled, but the guard’s grip proved too strong. Screaming incoherently, Ed backed up a half-dozen steps and sprinted toward the chain link. Leaning shoulder-in he struck the fencing. It held tight, reversing his momentum and sending him flying back into his own cell and onto the floor. Shaking off the impact, Ed got to his feet and made another attempt to force the fence free of its attachments. His second attempt proved no better.

  “Make the offering at dusk,” Enoch told the guard.

  The man nodded in return. “Yes, brother Enoch. As our God instructs.”

  Crying hot tears, Ed sank to his knees, still clutching the fence. “No…” he mumbled. “Don’t take him. Don’t take my boy away.” Trish knelt beside him, taking his head in her hands.

  Enoch turned, his robe swirling behind him like a twisting fog. The guards followed, dragging a screaming Jeremy through the door. The door slammed, muffling the boy’s voice.

  Ed collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Helpless, the others simply looked on.

  * * *

  The minutes passed like hours as Ed sat on the filthy floor of the makeshift prison, his back against the dividing wall. Trish sat beside him, holding his hand.

  “What are they going to do to him?” Zach asked from the other side of the wall.

  Ed desperately wished he could see his older son, to hold him. But he had no answer to the question. “I don’t know,” he replied.

  But he did know. He knew very well what they were going to do to Jeremy. He’d never see his son again.

  Eventually they’d come for Zach as well.

  Jasper paced back and forth in the cell, running his hand through his hair. “There’s gotta be something we can do. We have to think of something. Anything.”

  “There’s nothing to be done,” Tina said, her dirty face streaked with new tears. “We’re helpless.”

  “I don’t accept that,” Jasper replied. “I don’t accept that at all. That’s no kind of thinking.”

  “Not accepting it won’t change it,” Tina said.

  “Speak for yourself, lady,” Jasper said, still pacing hard. He stopped and looked around the cell at the others. “Are you all just going to sit there and do nothing?”

  “What can we do?” Jimmy asked.

  “Something. Anything.”

  “We don’t have any guns. No knives. Nothing,” Jimmy said. “We’re fucked. Just accept it.”

  “I don’t accept that,” Jasper repeated. He began pacing again. “Think. We need to think.”

  “They shoot them first,” Tina said from the corner, her voice low and meek. “That’s what they did with my little Danielle.”

  Everyone stopped and stared at Tina, waiting for her to continue.

  “Tina, you don’t have to—” Jimmy began.

  “They throw them to the carriers after they shoot them,” Tina said.

  “How do you know this?” Jasper asked.

  “I saw it. They wanted me to watch.”

  Silence ensued as the group contemplated Tina’s story.

  Terry Wilkinson stood. “I’m with Jasper,” he said, shattering the silence. “We need to fucking to do something.”

  “What exactly do you propose we do?” another man said from the corner. He was dark and thin, filthy sweatpants draping off of his legs like rags on sticks.

  Terry thought for a moment. “We bum-rush those guards.”

  “You mean the ones with the guns?” Jimmy said. “The guards that’ll just shoot us all first?”

  “No, Terry’s right,” Jasper said. “They won’t shoot us, not all of us and not all at once. They want to sacrifice us.”

  “Explain,” Jimmy said.

  “I think that gives us a little leeway,” Jasper said.

  “Do you have some kind of plan?” Trish asked.

  Jasper paused, considering. “We need to get them to unlock the door.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Jimmy said.

  “We need to give them a reason.”

  “Like what?” Terry asked.

  Jasper thought. “I can pretend I’m sick. Injured. Screaming in pain. With any luck they’ll send a guard or two in. We wait until he opens the cell and then we bum rush them.”

  “They’ll tear us up,” Jimmy said.

  “Possibly. Maybe even likely. But they can’t get all of us, not if we’re fast enough. It’s at least a shot. Otherwise, we’re all dead. We just don’t know it yet.”

  “I like that idea,” Terry said. He glanced around the room. “Who’s on board?”

  Hands rose from most within the cell. A few did not.

  “I don’t like this idea,” a woman said from the end of the cell. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Too fucking bad,” Terry replied. “Everybody with your hands down, we’ll be sure to leave your asses here.” Terry glanced at Ed. “We might be able to save your boy, too.”

  Ed nodded. “I’m on board.”

  “Let me talk to them,” a voice said from behind the dividing wall. Everyone paused.

  Terry frowned. “Fucking Alice,” he grumbled. “We don’t need your help!” he yelled, his voice rolling throughout the structure. “I think you’ve done just about enough, don’t you?”

  “I think I can reason with them,” Alice replied. “Talk them out of it.”

  “Lady, you can’t reason with people like this,” Terry replied. “Do us a favor…don’t do us any more favors.”

  “Your plan will never work,” Alice said. “You’re all a bunch of fools
. I’ll let you them know what you’re doing.”

  “Goddamn bitch,” Terry said under his breath. He turned to Jasper. “If you’re gonna do this, you better get it done.”

  Jasper nodded. He got down on the floor, clutched his stomach and began screaming.

  Terry joined in. “Help!” he called out. “Somebody help!”

  A moment later a single, muffled shot rang out from somewhere on the grounds. The cell went silent.

  “Ed,” Jasper said, sitting up. He said nothing else. He didn’t have to.

  Grief and despair washed over Ed like a suffocating blanket. He could barely think.

  “Dad?” Zach asked from the other cell. “Dad?”

  Ed couldn’t reply. His entire body had gone numb.

  My son is dead, rang through his head like a haunting dirge.

  Over and over again it repeated.

  My son is dead.

  My son is dead.

  My son is dead.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hands in the air,” the woman in the farmhouse said. She pointed the shotgun at Sam and Chloe. “All of ya.”

  Sam and Chloe glanced at each other before raising their hands.

  “Nice and slow,” the woman said.

  “We’re just passing through,” Lester said. He put his hands up. “I’m Lester and this is Chloe and Sam.”

  The woman with the shotgun regarded them through narrowed eyes. “Passing through, eh?”

  “Yes,” Chloe said. “We were just going to refill our canteens. We didn’t know anybody lived here.”

  “Likely story,” the woman replied. She cocked her head to the side and squinted. “How old are you, girl?”

  “Almost fourteen.”

  The woman nodded at Sam. “What about you?”

  “Almost thirteen,” Sam replied.

  “Look, ma’am, we’ll just get going and leave you alone,” Lester said. “We’re sorry for the intrusion. Honestly.”

  “You ain’t going anywhere just yet,” the woman replied.

  “Okay,” Lester said. “Sure.” He paused. “May I ask your name?”