The Road North

by Phillip D Granath

  “And it’ll be worse than before, with no water coming in at all, and no hope for more, the people will get desperate quickly,” Wadsworth said.

  The council was silent for a moment, each turning the problem over in their head. As Kyle watched them, part of him almost felt sorry for the aging group of politicians; they had taken upon their shoulders the survival of a whole town, many of which hated them. Kyle had only ever been responsible for himself, and Anna. Except for a short period last year, when he lead a small group in an ultimately futile attempt to cross the desert. It had been a desperate and a bloody affair, one that had cost the lives of several of his friends.

  Wadsworth let out a long breath, “Ok,” she said, “we need a course of action.”

  “What about the Nation? Could they supply us with more water?” Jackson asked.

  Every head in the room turned and looked towards Little Bird.

  “No,” she said flatly and then added, “Even the small amount that my people bring in to trade with the town was hotly debated amongst the Council of Elders. I would suggest that you are better off avoiding the subject. Should the Nation find out that the town’s water supply is about to fail, some among the tribe would argue to stop trading with you completely,” Little Bird explained.

  “And then what? Come in after we’ve all turned to dust and just take what you would’ve traded for instead?” Johnson pushed.

  The old woman replied with a simple shrug of her shoulders, and said, “Some of my people have prayed that the earth would swallow your kind for generations, perhaps they will finally get their wish.”

  Wadsworth’s expression seemed to harden as if seeing the elderly Indian in a new light, Little Bird shifted uncomfortably for a moment under the gaze and then added.

  “But my job here is to look after the best interest of the tribe, and sometimes that includes protecting my people from themselves. I believe it’s in both of our people’s best interests to maintain the peace and the trade. You have my word that what we discuss here will not get back to Chief Two-Steps or the Elder Council, at least not from me.”

  Her words seemed to soften Wadsworth’s gaze, and the councilwoman nodded in reply, “Thank you Little Bird,” she said.

  “So, no water coming in, where does that leave us? Escape and abandon the town?” Johnson asked.

  “How? Even with all of Coal’s horses, Kyle’s buggy, there is no way we can walk out of the desert. We couldn’t even carry enough water, for what? 2000 or maybe 3000 people?” Wadsworth replied.

  “We should have completed the census sooner like I said, we’re not even sure how many fucking people we are talking about!” Johnson snapped.

  Miles cleared his throat and stepped forward, he wore an expression that Kyle has seen many times before, the old man looked like the cat that had just swallowed the canary. But this time, with so much on the line, the look didn’t fill Kyle with amusement, his stomach was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.

  “The desert, for so many on foot, would be a death trap. I know, I did my little foray out into the waste last year with Coal and Kyle, and we lost nearly half our party less than a day out.”

  Miles paused letting his words sink in and then gave Kyle a quick glance over his shoulder. What the old man had failed to mention was that their party had been ambushed by Murphy’s Rangers, but Kyle knew that Miles was just trying to make a point.

  “What other option do we have?” Johnson asked.

  “We send a small group, fast and mobile. But we don’t send them out to escape, we send them out to find the parts that we need to repair the pump,” Miles said with a grin.

  “But you just said that the pump was an oddball, wouldn’t finding parts be next to impossible?” Johnson pushed.

  “The pump was an unusual piece in our collection, yes. But that was because the museum, you may remember, was focused on the railroad and westward expansion. Other collections, like one, that let’s say, focused on mining, would more than likely have housed dozens of pumps, perhaps some even like our own,” Miles explained.

  “Why do I have the feeling you already have a place in mind?” Wadsworth asked.

  The old man grinned, “Because we have both been doing this for too long.”

  From the manila envelope Miles produced a magazine and turning it to an earmarked page he laid it down in front of the councilwoman. Wadsworth examined the page carefully, with both Johnson and Neal rising to look over her shoulder. The one-page ad showed a long and spacious building, filled with families and school classes gathered around display cases. Another showed a long line of equipment from the turn of the century lining an outdoor walkway.

  “Can any of these machines help us?” Wadsworth asked.

  “To be honest, I’ll have no idea until I lay eyes upon it myself.”

  “Already decided then, have you?” Wadsworth asked.

  “Do we really have any other choice?” Miles replied.

  “Where in the hell is this place? Phoenix?” Johnson asked.

  As the question hung in the air, everything suddenly fell into place for Kyle. Miles cryptic note and asking for both Coal and Kyle to attend the council meeting. The hairs on the back of Kyle’s neck suddenly stood on end, and before he realized that he was moving, he found himself halfway to the chamber doors.

  “It’s the Museum of History and Technology, and it’s in Salt Lake City,” Miles replied.

  “And who would go with you?” Wadsworth asked.

  Miles turned to gesture towards the top row of seats, but he found Kyle’s seat empty and the doors of the chamber still swinging shut in his wake.

  Going Downtown

  Kyle stormed down the hall towards the clinic, his mind was racing, and he shook his head as if trying to force the pieces of reality to fall back into place. He pushed through the doors of the clinic and, as usual, found the place a hive of activity. Patients sat on the cots in all three of the small recovery rooms, as Anna’s trained nurses moved back and forth, taking notes, measuring vitals and talking to each in turn. Even from here Kyle could see a line of people standing outside, waiting for their turn to be seen. For Anna’s role, she moved between the patients at a slower, more subdued pace, talking to each in turn, and administering advice more often than medicine. Kyle watched as Anna finished speaking to one patient, and then started to move to see another, dragging her stool behind her as she went, it looked as if she was at least trying to take Little Bird’s advice.

  Anna looked up and met Kyle’s eyes. At first, her face held all of the hard edges and the accusing look that Kyle had grown so accustomed to lately. But as she held it, her gaze softened, her eyes widened, and the look turned to one of concern.

  “Kyle? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Kyle blinked twice and then shook his head again, “Nothing, just…nothing,” he blurted.

  “Kyle?”

  “Where is Coal?” he asked.

  Anna’s eyes narrowed again, her look of concern vanished, “Where do you think?” she replied, nodding with her head.

  Kyle walked past her, avoiding her eyes and heading towards the outside door.

  “Kyle?” she said again, but he ignored her.

  Pushing past the patients waiting in line Kyle moved out into the midday sun. As usual, the buggy and its wagon were parked out front. In the months since the clinic was established, Coal had never bothered to find himself a permanent room. Instead, the half-breed slept where he could, when he could, usually passing out drunk. It seemed the once wealthy bounty-hunter was content to revel in the freedom his new-found poverty provided. Kyle first walked the perimeter of the building, looking for Coal in the shade of the eves. Then he walked over to the wagon and finally drawing back the tarp covering, he peered into the back of the ad-hoc ambulance. There the scavenger found Coal, asleep on one of the blood-stained cots that just hours before had held a corpse. The bounty-hunter snored softly, and as he slept one of his hands rested on the hilt of his bo
ne-handled hunting knife, the other grasped a nondescript bottle of liquor. Kyle glanced inside, it seemed the bounty-hunter, though drunk, had still had the presence of mind to lay his rifle down on the floor beside him. Having learned his lesson in the past, Kyle unhooked the wagon’s tailgate and taking a step back, let it drop.

  The tailgate crashed down, and faster than Kyle’s eye could follow Coal was in motion. The half breed launched himself up off of the cot, and in the same motion, slashing out at the air in front of him his knife held in a reverse grip.

  “Woah there, calm down sleeping beauty!” Kyle shouted, taking another step back for good measure.

  Still pointing the tip of his blade at Kyle, the half-breed blinked twice before recognition settled in.

  “Kyle? What the fuck?” Coal demanded.

  With the flick of his wrist, the half-breed sunk the tip of the knife into the floorboards of the wagon and laid back down on the cot.

  “It can’t be my shift,” he said covering his eyes. “It’s not even dark yet!”

  “Hungover or not, we need to talk.”

  “What could possibly be so important?” Coal moaned rolling over.

  “I went to that meeting today with Miles,” Kyle began.”

  “Then I definitely don’t want to hear about it.”

  “I think you will because if I know Miles he’s got a plan that’s going to get us all killed.”

  “I thought that was your department?” Coal chuckled.

  “Not funny, I…” Kyle began.

  In the distance a bell started to ring, causing both Coal and Kyle to swear in unison.

  “Does this mean you’re going to be taking my bed somewhere?” Coal asked.

  “Looks that way, but you may as well ride along. I’ll explain along the way.”

  As Coal began to pull himself from the bed, Kyle ran out to stand in the street. With the council’s help, the clinic had installed four old schoolhouse bells at key points around town. The theory was simple enough, if someone rang the bell, usually a Black Jacket, then the ambulance would come to their aid. When the bells were first installed, Kyle had trouble trying to determine which direction the ringing would be coming from, it was Coal that taught him the secret. Go in whichever direction you initially think the sound is coming from, and never second guess your decision. Even now Kyle couldn’t help but grin, the advice seemed to encompass the half-breed’s entire outlook on life. Today it seemed that the bell on the south side of town was the likely source. Kyle ran back to the buggy and skidded to a halt next to the driver’s side door, Coal sitting comfortably behind the wheel looked up at him.

  “Well, get in,” he said.

  “Ahhh…I’m driving,” Kyle replied flatly.

  “The fuck you are, you woke me up and now you’re stealing my bed, I’m driving.”

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  “I drive better that way!”

  In the distance the bell continued to ring frantically, Kyle didn’t have time for this.

  “Move over, or I tell Anna that you’re trading a way dead bodies. Then neither of us will have to worry about you driving drunk again.”

  “Woah, Woah, no need for this to get ugly,” Coal said raising his hand in mock surrender.

  The half-breed begrudgingly moved over into the passenger seat, and Kyle jumped behind the wheel. Kyle pressed a pair of buttons on the buggy’s dash and then pushed the lever between the seats forward into drive. The moment Kyle depressed the gas pedal, and the buggy began to roll forward, its electric motors giving off a gentle hum. In striking contrasts, the heavy wooden wagon squealed in protest as the buggy pulled it forward. Kyle pulled the ad-hoc ambulance out of the compound and onto the street, turning south he allowed the vehicle to steadily accelerate.

  “I still think we should find us some kind of siren, or horn or something for this thing,” Coal said, for what must have been the hundredth time.

  “So, all the other cars will hear us coming and get out of the way?” Kyle asked with a grin.

  “You can be a real fucking buzzkill, you know that?”

  “Speaking of buzzkills, Miles told the council that the pump is about to fail,” Kyle said flatly.

  Coal let out a long whistle, “It’s a couple hundred years too late, but it sounds like the Indians are going to finally get all their land back. I guess that’s going to mean the end of the line for all you white people.”

  “It’s also going to be the end of the line for any half-breeds exiled from the Nation too, I would bet,” Kyle pointed out.

  “That’s just, like, temporary, a family disagreement at best. When Two-Steps calms down, he’ll welcome me back into the fold.”

  “The last time we saw him, he told you he was going to kill you, and now he’s the chief of the whole damn Indian Nation!”

  Kyle slowed the buggy and then turned onto a narrower side street running south. Judge Neal was now sentencing most criminals convicted of minor crimes to community service projects. At Kyle’s suggestion and with the Council’s support, one of the first priorities had been the removal of the burned-out cars from several key intersections, allowing the ambulance to cross town more quickly. Kyle glanced over at Coal, and from the look on his face, he could see the half-breed was chewing on what he had said.

  “I also couldn’t help but notice that it’s been a while since you’ve spent any time out in the desert,” Kyle said.

  “You damn well know that the Black Jackets are using my horses, and paying me with extra water I might add.”

  “For some reason, I got a feeling that if you really wanted to go out, that wouldn’t stop you.”

  “Well maybe I don’t want to go out, maybe you’ve domesticated me, turned me into a damn house Indian!” Coal snapped back.

  “Why do I somehow doubt that?”

  Ahead of them, the bell came into view, it was attached to a telephone pole about ten feet off the ground. A man in rags stood beneath the bell, furiously pulling on the rope, but no one else was in sight.

  “No Black Jackets?” Coal observed.

  “Maybe people are starting to come around, civic duty and all?” Kyle offered.

  “Maybe.”

  Kyle pulled the ambulance up next to the pole behind the man, still engrossed in his bell ringing, the man didn’t see them at first.

  “Hey, buddy!” Kyle shouted.

  The man continued to ring the bell oblivious to their arrival.

  “Hey, asshole!” Coal screamed.

  The stranger released the bell and spun around in surprise. His eyes fell on Kyle in the driver’s seat, and he smiled. Then his gaze shifted over to include the half-breed and his smile quickly evaporated.

  “Do you need a fucking ambulance?” Coal demanded.

  The man looked confused for a moment and glanced between the two men, before turning and looking down the street.

  “Is somebody hurt?” Kyle pressed.

  The man looked back at Kyle and then nodding slowly he stammered, “Yeah…yeah, he is. He’s stabbed I think, in the guts.”

  “Well, then fucking lead us to him!” Coal shouted.

  The man paused as if suddenly unsure of himself and then turned and started to jog down the street. Kyle put the buggy into gear and trailed after him, easily keeping pace.

  “The dude seems out of it,” Coal said.

  “He’s probably in shock,” Kyle pointed out. “Someone he cares about is hurt.” As Kyle said the words the image of Anna lying unconscious on the clinic for came back to him and forcing him to take a quick breath.

  “Is he the only one in shock right now?” Coal asked pointedly.

  Kyle gritted his teeth, ignoring the half-breed’s comment. Thankfully, ahead of them the man stopped abruptly and turning he pointed down a narrow alleyway.

  “Looks like this is the place,” Coal said.

  “We won’t fit down there, I’ll handle triage, and you get the stretcher.”

  “You were always b
etter with people,” Coal said stepping out of the buggy.

  Kyle retrieved the trauma kit from the floor of the buggy, in truth, it was a repurposed fishing tackle box filled with just enough gauze, bandages and medical tape to keep a patient alive for their ride back to the clinic. The medical training, what little Anna had provided Coal and Kyle was straightforward enough. Keep as much of the patient’s blood on the inside of their body as you can, keep them breathing and get them back to the clinic as quickly as possible. Jumping out of the buggy, Kyle ran up to their still pointing guide. As he approached the man’s eyes grew wide, and he gestured down the alleyway.

  “Down, down there,” he said hesitantly, “Just next to the dumpster.”

  Kyle followed the man’s gaze and true to the man’s word he could just make out a figure lying motionless on the ground in front of the dumpster, perhaps 100ft away. Without another thought Kyle ran down the alleyway, carrying the trauma kit with him. He was about halfway down the alley when Kyle realized that the man wasn’t following after him but remained standing in the street. He must want to help Coal with the stretcher Kyle thought, pushing down the sense of unease that was starting to grow in the pit of his stomach.

  Coal dropped the tailgate and wrestled the stretcher out of the back of the wagon. It was an old army stretcher, with a section of green canvas stretched tightly between two heavy wooden poles. Coal carried the thing awkwardly around the side of the wagon towards the alleyway, while under his breath murmuring, “Stupid, heavy ass thing, next time I’m on fucking trauma detail.”

  As Coal reached the mouth of the alleyway the man in rags stepped forward, “How can I, I help?” he asked.

  “By staying the hell out of my way!” Coal yelled.

  The man paused, glanced down the alleyway again before reaching out and grabbing hold of the stretcher awkwardly. The sudden move took Coal by surprise and caused him to stumble as the stretcher was nearly ripped from his grasp.

  “What the fuck? I’m supposed to be on my best behavior, but shock or no, I will beat you fucking senseless if you don’t let go of this thing right fucking now!” Coal shouted.