Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  “What do you think?” Jasper said. “Might be some stuff left behind.”

  Sue shrugged. “Could be.”

  “Worth checking out?”

  “Sure. Just get that rifle ready.”

  “Already on it.”

  They unslung the M16s and held the barrels toward the ground as they entered the building. Sunlight penetrated almost all the way into the small space, leaving only shadows near the very back. A glance in that direction told Jasper that the back wall had been the refrigerators. Anything there would have spoiled ages ago. No point in even looking.

  As they searched the aisles, broken glass and twigs crunched under their feet. A few desiccated corpses littered the floor, so badly decomposed that Jasper couldn’t be sure if they’d been carriers or survivors. He supposed it didn’t really matter anymore. Like the gossip in the tabloids, that world and all the people in it were gone forever.

  The store gave up nothing. Only empty wrappers, leaves, dirt and bird shit sat on the shelves now, more evidence of Mother Nature cleaning up the mess that had been humanity. Jasper thought it should depress him, but it didn’t. There was something comforting in knowing that the planet would go on, even if he didn’t live to see it. “All the tree huggers bitching and moaning about destroying the planet,” he said, looking around the room. “They were all wrong. We couldn’t destroy the planet, but we sure as hell could off ourselves.”

  The crunch of a footstep on broken glass sounded from across the room. Jasper gave Sue a concerned look. She nodded in return, pointing toward the area from which the sound had come. She motioned for them to duck. Jasper complied, squatting silently and readying the rifle.

  Another step echoed throughout the store, accompanied by voices. More steps followed, the sound growing louder with each step.

  Be ready, Sue mouthed to him.

  Jasper nodded. His heart raced as adrenaline dumped into his system.

  A moment later at the end of the aisle a boot stepped into view.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Just before dawn, Lester, Sam and Chloe packed up the rest of their things, including Rita’s shotgun. They left her house behind at daybreak. A search through the house and the garage had produced a large backpack big enough to carry the bulk of Chloe’s items. As a show of good faith, Lester volunteered to carry the load. She didn’t seem particularly appreciative, but he’d come to learn that Chloe Pearson wasn’t one to wear her heart on her sleeve.

  Lester allowed Sam to carry his two pillow cases of food and other supplies they’d added from Rita’s still balanced on the broom handles they’d taken from the school where Sam had lost his mother. He figured he’d let the little shit work for it. Chloe carried her bag slung over one shoulder and Sam’s over the other shoulder.

  They made their way back to the highway, following Chloe’s suggestion. She hadn’t yet decided where to go and Lester didn’t push the matter. Ultimately she elected to simply follow the road and figure things out as they went. Sam followed obediently, trudging along behind Chloe like a stray dog searching for a home. Lester looked forward to putting him down, just like he’d done to dozens of stray dogs over the years.

  They stopped around noon, taking shelter under a large oak tree in an overgrown field just off the cracked road. They ate canned tomatoes and peaches, sharing a single can of beef stew between them.

  “I still can’t believe Rita’s dead,” Sam said, slurping down a peach from the can.

  “It’s a tough world these days,” Lester replied.

  “I just don’t know why she would’ve been out at night like that,” Sam continued. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Chloe added. She glanced toward Lester before scanning the highway, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  Lester eyed the girl. Had her look been coincidence?

  They cleaned up, tossing their empty cans in different directions, far into the tall grass. No sense in leaving behind a trail for others to easily follow.

  They walked for several more hours, the sun beating down from above as warm wind stroked the tall grass lining both sides of the crumbling roadway. Eventually the farmland gave way to a sparsely populated residential area. They passed a few defunct gas stations and took the opportunity to investigate, but the shelves had been laid bare years prior. Lester figured as much, but Chloe wanted to investigate so he complied.

  She caught him looking at her in the second store. He’d tried to control himself, but when he saw her neck exposed, slightly dirty and lined with beads of sweat he couldn’t help himself. He could see the knife blade separating the skin, the blood gushing forth. He smiled at her, but she didn’t return it.

  Empty handed, they left the convenience store and continued along the derelict road. Two deer bounded away as they approached. Chloe raised the shotgun, breathing a heavy sigh of relief once the source of the noise had been identified. Lester enjoyed the fear in her eyes. It made her beautiful.

  As the sun began to descend toward the horizon the daylight waned. By then they’d escaped the farms and meadows and now found themselves in a small town, complete with warehouses, train yards and cheap frame houses.

  “We should stop for the night,” Lester suggested. He glanced at Chloe. “Do you agree?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “Don’t want to be out at night. We could end up like Rita.”

  “How about that building?” Sam said, pointing toward a warehouse with a large sliding door on the front. “Looks solid.” He walked up to the small doorway leading into the warehouse, placing both hands up to the reinforced glass and peering inside.

  “Be careful,” Chloe said.

  “It’s fine,” Sam said.

  “What do you see?” Lester said, walking toward him.

  “Shit!” Sam said. “I think I saw somebody in there!”

  A voice sounded from behind them. “Hands in the air where I can see them. Anybody moves, I shoot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Locked inside a room within Enoch’s church, Alice Sappington sat in a chair beside a flickering candle, contemplating her situation. Barnes—the leader of the cannibals—agreed to finding the second truck. She’d exaggerated the number of guns, but Barnes wouldn’t know that until they caught up with the truck. By then she would have already killed Ed Brady. Everything after that was optional. Besides, Barnes would be happy with the booty that truly was on the truck.

  And the people, of course.

  Of all the things Alice had seen after the virus, cannibalism was by far the most extreme. Not that she really gave a fuck either way—people died every day and that was just a fact of life—but there were plenty of ways to use people outside of eating them. People were far more useful than a simple food source. They were much more valuable alive, provided they remained obedient. Control over people defined true power. Anything was possible with enough people; even the pyramids. Put enough slaves on the job and you could reshape the world.

  Barnes didn’t understand this very important fact. He’d rather barbecue them or smoke them into jerky to feed to his wolf pack. That was just disgusting and stupid. Still, Steven Barnes was the best chance Alice had at finding and killing Ed Brady, so she’d play along for as long as it took.

  After Barnes freed her from the cell he tried to get the information out of her. No doubt he planned on using that information for himself. Alice knew that he’d simply kill her once he had it, so she balked. He threatened, even had his big dog Womack in the room, salivating at the thought of cutting her throat, but she didn’t relent. He must have seen how serious she was because he agreed to allow her to come. That and she knew how to drive the truck. That surely helped.

  She studied the interaction between Womack and Barnes. Clearly Womack was the only person Barnes treated as an advisor, as an equal. Everyone else acted as braves in his little tribe.

  Womack himself was downright frightening. His eyes…something behind them spoke of depths that le
d straight into Hell. After taking the church from Enoch it didn’t take long for Womack to start butchering. He killed them in front of the others, binding their wrists and suspending them from the ceiling like cattle. He butchered them alive, licking his lips as he sliced them open, peeling back the skin. The screaming went on for hours as he filleted a half dozen of the prisoners. He could have at least killed them first; the noise was downright annoying.

  Then Barnes had her sent to the room in which she now sat. He planned to roll out the following morning, taking with them the remaining truck and one of the vans. Alice knew the route like the back of her hand; she’d been instrumental in choosing it. John was a pushover, agreeing to everything she demanded. She kind of missed the poor bastard. At least he could follow instructions.

  Womack would stay behind, Barnes had told her. More proof that he acted as second in command. Alice couldn’t have been happier with that decision. Womack was a psychopath, plain and simple, somebody she didn’t necessarily want to have to tussle with. With Womack out of the way and her behind the wheel, she’d have Barnes under control before long. Only a handful of his men would be coming along and none of them posed the threat to her that Womack did.

  And once Ed Brady was dead, Steven Barnes would be next.

  The room didn’t have a bed, but they’d provided her with a blanket and a flimsy pillow. It would be good enough for the night. She lay down on the floor, folding the blanket over herself before blowing out the candle. Darkness filled the room completely as she lay with her eyes open, listening to the muffled sound of screams from Womack’s killing room. She hoped he’d turn in soon because the screaming was keeping her awake.

  After all, tomorrow would be a big day and she really needed her sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Don’t move asshole,” Sue said, pointing the M16 at the owner of the boot.

  The man stopped in place.

  “Hands in the air,” Sue ordered.

  The man complied, lifting both hands skyward. He held a small pistol in his left hand.

  Sue motioned with the rifle, rising slowly. “You too, there behind him.”

  Jasper rose, his rifle trained on the man in the lead. He hadn’t even seen the second man.

  “Jasper, get his gun.”

  “Hey!” the man in the lead cried. Long curly hair spilled down over a tattered flannel shirt.

  “Shut up,” Sue snapped. “Jasper, do it.”

  Jasper stepped toward the men, debris crunching under his shoes.

  “Come on, man,” Curly Hair argued.

  “I told you to shut your hole,” Sue said. “Or else I’ll shut it permanently.”

  “You won’t shoot us,” the second man said. Jet black hair covered his thick, meaty head.

  “You wanna fucking bet?” Sue replied. “You got no idea of what I’ll do.”

  Jasper took the pistol from Curly Hair. He placed it in his back pocket, pointing his rifle at the two men.

  “Now,” Sue continued, “any more of you skulkin’ around in here?”

  The men shook their heads.

  “You ain’t lying to me, are you?”

  “No,” Meathead replied.

  “Jasper,” Sue said, “check the rest of the store.”

  Jasper walked the aisles, but stopped at the back of the store. “Too dark back there,” he called out. “Can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Come on back then,” Sue said. She eyed the two men before her. “Anybody comes busting outta the back of that store, I shoot you two first. You got that?”

  “We got it,” Curly Hair replied.

  Jasper returned to the two men. They stood with their hands up as Sue continued questioning them. “What are the two of you doing in here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Meathead said.

  “But you ain’t asking me. I got the gun.”

  “Fair enough,” Curly Hair said. “We’re looking for food and supplies. If you didn’t notice, a virus destroyed the world, so the delivery trucks seem to be a couple of years late. We’re just making do until they arrive.”

  “You think you’re funny,” Sue said, glaring. “You ain’t.”

  “I’d disagree, but I’ve learned to never argue matters of taste. What are you planning on doing with us now? If you’re going to kill us, you might as well get it over with.”

  “Depends on whether or not you give me a reason,” Sue said.

  “What if I gave you a reason not to?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We can give you things. My partner and I here have a good-sized stockpile. Canned foods, cigarettes, booze. Harder stuff if you want it. You like whiskey?”

  “I’m asking the questions here,” Sue barked.

  “Fine. Point is, we got a bunch of stuff and we’ll share. Consider it protection money. We give you what you can carry and you let us go.”

  “And just how do I know you don’t have an army there, just waiting for us when we show up?” Sue asked.

  “How do I know that once I let you leave with your backpacks full that you won’t show up with your own army and take everything we’ve stockpiled? Goes both ways, you know.”

  Sue paused, considering.

  “Just let them go,” Jasper said. “We don’t need to steal their stuff. That’s not scavenging.”

  “Listen to the kid,” Curly Hair said. “He’s making sense.”

  “Scavenging don’t have rules,” Sue said. “You take what you can get, when you can get it.”

  “I’m not shooting these guys, not unprovoked, at least.”

  “Stop talking,” Sue commanded. “Let me handle this.”

  Frustrated, Jasper stopped talking. The situation was getting out of control very quickly.

  “This stockpile,” Sue continued, “you’re going to take us to it.”

  “Just let them go,” Jasper said.

  “Shut up,” Sue said, glaring. She motioned with the pistol toward the door. “Hands on your head. Get your asses moving.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Curly Hair replied. “Allow me to lead the way.”

  Sue grunted in reply as the men turned and walked toward the door. Sue followed, pistol pointed at the men’s backs while Jasper reluctantly took up the rear. He didn’t like where this was going, not at all. It smelled bad, but Sue wasn’t listening to reason.

  Bright sunlight met them at the door, forcing Jasper to shield his eyes. He stepped through and into the glare, squinting to see.

  Outside, at least twenty-five men waited for them, all holding automatic rifles. Masks with human features covered their faces, giving them the appearance of corpses.

  Sue raised the pistol, pointing it at the back of Curly Hair’s head. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Unless you want a hole in your head.” He turned to face her, reaching out his hand.

  Sue paused, considering.

  Curly Hair cocked his head to the side. “Come on. Make the right decision and you might live to recognize it.”

  Sue gritted her teeth and scowled. She slowly lowered the pistol and handed it to him.

  “Good girl,” Curly Hair said. “My name is Roman, but you can call me your worst nightmare.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Dario brought the prisoners into the warehouse’s main office. “We found these three civilians snooping around outside,” he said. Positioned behind a man and two teens, Dario stood with his head held high, or as high as a man of his stature would allow. Reggie stood beside them, covering them with the rifle.

  “This isn’t the army,” Ed said, brow furrowed. “We’re all civilians here.”

  Dario frowned. “We got the guns, don’t we?”

  “I’ll take them,” Terry said. “You two go back outside and keep watch.”

  “But…they’re our prisoners,” Dario argued.

  Terry raised his eyebrows, his face dour.

  “Fine,” Dario huffed. “Come on, Reggie.” The older black man
rolled his eyes before reluctantly following Dario out of the room.

  With Dario and Reggie gone, Terry closed the door. He stood in front of it, keeping his M16 aimed toward the trio’s general direction, the barrel pointing toward the concrete floor.

  “Who are you?” Ed asked.

  “My name is Lester Delaney. With me are Sam and Chloe.”

  Ed stared at the three for a long time, gauging their reactions. The boy’s eyes revealed fear. They darted around the room, taking inventory and assessing threat. Sweat beads formed on his forehead. The girl appeared cooler, but her eyes showed concern more than fear. She was a little older than the boy, but not by much. The man who’d addressed himself as Lester though; his eyes showed no sign of fear.

  “Separate them,” Ed said.

  “No,” Chloe argued.

  “We’re not going to kill you,” Ed said. “Not unless you give us a reason to.”

  “They’re going to interview us separately,” Lester said. “See if our stories check out.”

  “Get Herb and Reggie to help you,” Ed said, ignoring Lester.

  “What about Dario?” Terry asked.

  “What about him?”

  Terry grinned wide. He leaned out the door and called for Herb and Reggie. A few moments later they appeared, M16s at the ready. Terry communicated Ed’s wishes to the men who took Chloe and Sam away. Terry took Lester away, closing the door behind him.

  Ed stood in the quiet office, pale sunlight streaming in from the window behind him. Dust motes floated through the air and Ed watched them as he considered what he’d do when he talked to these new people they’d found. If their stories matched then he’d probably invite them along. It was the right thing to do. If they didn’t check out then he’d send them on their way.

  He opened the door and stepped out of the office.

  That’s when he heard the first gunshot.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jasper sat in a folding chair, bound by a combination of rope and bungee cords. His entire face sang with pain from the beating he’d received from a beast of a man who called himself “Monkey”. Roman stood behind Monkey, arms crossed, watching with dissatisfaction as his trained animal focused his attention on Sue.