Into the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  Zach and Jeremy, however, kept their guns pointed at Dave and the girls. They were afraid; it was evident in the slight tremble of their hands.

  “Boys, just hold tight,” Ed told them. “Don’t do anything unless I say.”

  “What’s with the masks?” Tammy asked. “You infected?”

  “Don't you worry about us,” Ed told her.

  “She asked a question. Give her an answer,” Dave ordered.

  Ed looked coldly at Dave. He could put a bullet through his head in less than a second, but then all hell would break loose afterward. His boys could very likely die. He was going to have to play this one carefully if they wanted out alive. This wasn't a situation where they could just shoot their way out.

  “I said calm down,” Ed told him.

  “Fuck off. Answer the question,” Dave commanded.

  Ed paused, wondering how to respond. Compliance seemed the best way to diffuse this, or at least to mitigate escalation. “Listen, nobody’s infected here. We’re only here for some food and supplies.”

  Dave considered it. Those masks; they all wore them except for the girl, but even her mouth was covered with a strip of cloth. If they were infected, they wouldn't be coherent. They could be thieves, though. But they had children with them. Dave reminded himself that they were only children, but he also knew that kids could be trained to do horrible things. Maybe they kidnapped the girl; she sure looked like hell.

  “Who’s the girl?” he asked Ed.

  “None of your goddamn business,” Ed replied. His anger was beginning to show through. “Tell those girls of yours to lower those guns.”

  “He doesn't tell us what to do,” Tammy replied defiantly. “We're not his.”

  Dave knew he needed a gun if he was to be taken seriously. He had to put some fear in them. “Brenda, give me that gun.”

  “I’ve got this, Dave,” she told him.

  “Brenda, hand it over.”

  “Goddammit Dave, we got this!” Tammy yelled.

  “Give me that fucking gun!” he yelled, his eyes growing wild.

  Brenda was about to protest again when Dave reached over and grabbed it out of her hand. “You asshole!” she yelled, taking a swing at him, as he moved swiftly out of the way.

  Ed stepped forward, gun raised, but Dave got the gun from Brenda too quickly for him to make any progress. He immediately pointed it at Ed. Ed stopped short, then stepped back in front of the boys, guarding them as best he could. This wasn’t going well; he was beginning to get even more worried.

  “Not this time,” Dave said in a low voice. “It won’t go down like that this time. His eyes were focused intently and all expression had drained from his face.

  “Dave?” Brenda said.

  “Shut up, Brenda,” he told her curtly. “I’m not going to let this happen twice.”

  Brenda was beginning to get worried. Dave wasn't behaving normally, and she thought she knew why. She was beginning to believe this situation had the potential to go very badly for all of them.

  “You all need to calm down so we can talk,” Ed told them. He was growing more concerned with the man holding the gun. Even the women he traveled with were becoming obviously alarmed with him, like he was going rogue. And now the guy had gotten a gun. Ed had felt better when this guy just had a baseball bat.

  “Talk...right,” Dave said, flatly. “You come in here, sneak up on us in masks, then you tell me you want to talk. The only reason the three of us aren’t dead is because we caught you before you could catch us.”

  Dave put his finger on the trigger of Brenda’s gun. Could he get all three of them before they fired? He could get the man, but maybe not the kids. The kids! Could he actually kill them? They were only children. But they’d surely do it to him if given the chance, right?

  The last time he’d been so sure what to do, and look how that turned out. Now he was so confused. Nothing felt right, nothing felt certain. He doubted everything. He wouldn’t allow himself or either of the girls to be killed, that much he knew. These girls had saved his life. He couldn’t make the same kind of mistake again.

  Ed stood, gun pointed, considering his options. He knew he had to take some kind of action; he couldn't wait forever. The man in front of him could kill him with a single pull of the trigger. He wasn't responding to reason, so Ed felt had to use the only leverage he had; more guns. It would mean involving the kids in a gamble, but if he didn’t it could mean that none of them survived.

  “Jeremy, draw a bed on the girl with the rifle,” he told his youngest son, continuing to stare at Dave. “Zach, cover the other girl.”

  Brenda tensed visibly. Her eyes darted back and forth. She was definitely getting worried. Things were escalating, Ed just hoped they were going his way.

  “Daddy,” Jeremy said, obviously shaken. “They’re not carriers. They’re not infected.”

  “Just do what I tell you, son,” Ed gently commanded. “Trust me.”

  Jeremy reluctantly pointed the gun at Tammy. She looked at the young boy, but kept her rifle trained on Ed.

  Ed focused his attention again on Dave. “Look, you need to listen to some reason and think this thing through. You have two guns and we have three. Odds are, we’ll get all of you before you get us.” He wasn't sure he believed that himself, but it sounded good.

  “Like hell you will,” Dave retorted.

  “You willing to chance that?” Ed asked.

  “Are you?” Dave returned. It was a valid question that Ed did not answer.

  They stood this way, guns raised, staring at each other for some time. No one moved. Ed’s heart raced as the second ticked by. Trish was silent, and the boys held their pistols on the targets their father had given them. Brenda stood, without a weapon, looking down the barrel of the pistol aimed at her face.

  Then from somewhere in the room they heard a voice.

  “Looks like what we got here is a Mexican Standoff,” the voice said.

  Ed had no idea who this voice belonged to, but the last thing he wanted was even more trouble from more people with guns. Then he saw a shadow appear by a pallet of dog food. The man stood, hands on his hips. Two pistols hung from holsters attached to a belt around his waist. Ed thought if the man would have had a cowboy hat on he would have looked like Clint Eastwood in a spaghetti western.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Dave yelled, confused and frustrated. Ed watched him closely; his face was red and sweat beads had formed on his forehead, despite the cool air. The guy was running hot; anything could go wrong now.

  “Name’s Mitchell, Mitchell Burdette. Same as my daddy, but not his daddy before him.” The man chuckled to himself. No one joined him.

  “What is this shit?” Dave exclaimed, exasperated. He pointed the gun away from Ed and directly toward Mitchell. “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled.

  “Whoa now, son,” Mitchell said. His hands never left his hips, nor did he flinch when he saw Dave's gun trained on him. “First off, you ought not point that thing at me. I don’t have a weapon drawn, so you’re breaking the rules of the Mexican standoff, least as I understand ‘em to be.” He had a thick accent; not quite southern, but definitely not a northern accent. The only thing Ed could think of calling it was “good ol’ boy”.

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand?” Dave said flatly.

  Mitchell paused a moment. “Well, the first reason is, near as I can figure, I'll get you first.”

  “I’ll put a bullet through your head before you ever know what hit you,” Dave told him, but the conviction was draining from his voice. The guns on the man’s hips, along with his confident stance told Dave he might not want to overplay his hand.

  Mitchell chuckled as if Dave had told a humorous joke. “That’s a bold statement, son. Keep in mind you just met me; we ain’t even got acquainted yet. Your skill assessment might be lacking just a bit.”

  A bit more worried now, Dave pointed the gun back at Ed. Ed tensed, but held the pisto
l on Dave.

  Mitchell continued. “Even though you might not know it, none of you folks really want to shoot each other. If you did, you’d already done it. You’re looking for reasons not to, but you're afraid. I’m gonna help you folks with that. I'm what you might call an 'impartial third party'. So, first off, let’s everybody just take a deep breath and relax.”

  Mitchell turned his attention toward Ed first. “Now, you there, you with those young boys. What’s your name, friend?”

  Ed paused for a moment. This was getting more and more bizarre by the minute. Still, anything that might diffuse the situation and keep the boys and Trish alive he was up for. He decided to go with it.

  “Ed,” he replied, his eyes and the gun never leaving Dave.

  “What’s your boys’ names?”

  “Zach and Jeremy.”

  “How about the little lady? What's your name, missy?”

  Trish told him her name, but her voice unsteady.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you Trish; you too Ed. Same to you, Zach and Jeremy. Now, as a fair and unbiased third party, can I ask why the three of you are wearing those masks?”

  Ed responded, keeping his eyes and the gun on Dave. “Protection,” he said.

  “From the virus?” Mitchell asked.

  Ed nodded again. “Right.”

  “Fair enough,” Mitchell replied. “Not sure how much good they'll do. Mind pullin' 'em down a bit, so we can see who you are?”

  “I don't want to risk it,” Ed stated flatly.

  “I don't see much risk, not here. I don't have one and I'm okay.”

  Ed thought about it. The old man was probably right. He wanted this situation diffused so he chose to comply.

  “Do what he says,” Ed told Trish and the boys. They followed his direction.

  “Those are some handsome young men you got there, Ed,” Mitchell mused. “And a mighty pretty lady too.” He smiled in the dimly lit room, gesturing toward Trish.

  Mitchell then turned his attention to Dave. Dave still had his gun trained on Ed, staring him down. “Now, what’s your name, son?”

  “Fuck off,” Dave replied.

  “It ain’t a tough question. Is it gonna kill you to answer? Way things are shaping up here it’s looking like it might kill you if you don’t.”

  Dave paused for a moment, considering what the man had said. Would he kill him for not answering? Was he planning to kill them regardless? It was beginning to look as if he had little choice. “Fine,” he replied. “My name is Dave.”

  “Pleasure, Dave. How about the ladies?”

  “I’m Brenda, this is Tammy,” Brenda replied, gesturing toward Tammy. She sounded very unsure of herself.

  “Good to meet you three,” Mitchell commented. He focused his attention on Brenda. “Now, I’ve got a question for you, honey. What brings you into my little corner of the badlands?”

  “You live here?” Brenda asked.

  “That I do. I guess you’d have to call it squatter’s rights, but I occupy it all the same. Have for a while now, maybe six months. Hard to remember time anymore, what with the calendars useless and my memory even more useless.” He paused for a moment, then asked his question again. “So, how’d you all end up here again?”

  “We’re walking the highway, heading west” Brenda replied.

  “I-64?” Mitchell asked.

  “Right. We stopped off for supplies, then...all this mess happened.”

  “I see.” Mitchell turned to Ed. “How about you? What’s your story? You walking the highway too?”

  Ed wasn’t sure how long he should go along with things, but this man seemed to be doing what he couldn’t do: diffusing the situation. That being the end goal, he went along. “You could say that,” Ed replied. “We just want to pass through, unharmed.”

  “Sounds reasonable enough on both ends,” Mitchell observed. He took a short pause, then spoke again to Dave and the girls. “So, if I could indulge me the opportunity to summarize, the three of you were just walking the road.” He then turned to Ed, Trish, and the boys. “And then the four of you, pretty much the same story. Am I right so far?”

  No one responded. Mitchell took the lack of response as no objections.

  “So, since this is obviously just two groups of people who happened to surprise each other, then how about everybody put the guns away?” He looked at both sides, waiting for a response.

  Dave replied. “Not until they do.”

  “Don’t count on that, friend,” Ed replied.

  “Would it be safe to say that everybody wants to put the guns down?” Mitchell asked. Still no response; he continued regardless. “Well, I didn’t hear a no, so I’m going to assume the answer is yes. So, let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that everybody lowers those guns at the same time. I could give a count, say to three maybe, then everybody puts the guns back into their holsters, pockets, or wherever they choose to keep ‘em. Then we all talk. Would everybody be willing to consider that?”

  Ed responded first. He wanted desperately to end the standoff and keep the boys safe. “I’d consider it, provided they do the same.”

  Dave thought about himself. They didn’t seem like bandits or thieves, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to give up any advantage, but he was beginning to think he had no advantage anyway. If they resorted to gunfire then somebody on both sides was going to die. He’d seen enough of that already. And if that guy was as good as he claimed, he'd pick the rest of them off in seconds.

  “I’d be willing too, provided they follow through,” Dave said. He hoped he wasn’t making another bad decision. He was quickly learning that some things were just going to be out of his hands.

  “Well shit, this thing’s about as good as settled. I’m gonna count to three then, just like I said I would. On three let’s see all the guns lowered.”

  He took a breath, and then counted. “One, two, three.”

  At first, no one moved. Then, within a few seconds, gun barrels began to lower and point to the ground. Everyone stood there for a minute, waiting to see what happened. Then Dave suddenly sat down on the ground, placing Brenda’s gun beside him. They stayed this way for some time, as if to test the newly formed truce.

  Eventually Mitchell broke the silence. He whistled as he exhaled. “Whew, that was a doozy. Now, any of you folks drink coffee?”

  And with that the standoff was over.

  Both groups sat on opposite sides of the aisle in the warehouse, atop the wooden boards that made up the surface of the lowest shelf. Dave, Brenda, and Tammy sat on one side; Ed, Trish, Zach, and Jeremy sat on the other. Trish sat beside Ed; both boys were in front of him. Dave sat between Brenda and Tammy, his face in his hands. Brenda placed a hand on his back, and kept it there. Tammy stared at the concrete floor. No one spoke.

  Mitchell was off getting coffee for his new guests. A few minutes later he returned with a small propane burner, two coffee pots, and the plastic filter cup from an automatic coffee maker. The cup was lined with a paper filter and filled with coffee grounds. One of the coffee pots was filled with water; the other was empty. He set up the contraption on the floor between the two parties.

  “Instructions say not to burn this indoors, but I figure this place is so big and drafty it might as well be outside,” he said. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, then turned on the propane burner, touching the yellow flame to the invisible flow of gas. It leapt into a strong, blue flame upon contact with the fumes. He adjusted the flame lower, then placed the coffee pot full of water on top of the burner to boil.

  “Even after the fall of civilization I still have to have my coffee,” he mused. “Some things never change, it seems.” He sat on the floor, his back against one of the shelves, then crossed his legs. “Carriers don’t come in here much despite how much food there is. Seems like they can’t get the boxes open. God is ironic.”

  He turned to Ed. “So Ed, headed west, eh? How long you been on the road?”

  “Tw
o years, give or take,” Ed replied.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “Border town, along the east coast. It never really had a name, at least not one worth a shit. Once the food ran out we took to the road.”

  “The four of you?”

  “No,” Trish interjected. “Ed and his boys found me a few weeks ago. I was pretty bad off. They nursed me back to health.” She didn't mention being kidnapped by Trey and the others; neither did Ed.

  Mitchell smiled. “You’re a good man, Ed. Too many folks leaving other folks for dead nowadays. It’s the way of world now, I suppose, but it’s a trend worth bucking.”

  He paused for a moment, looked at the Zach and Jeremy, then turned back to Ed. “Those are some fine looking boys you got there, Ed,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Ed said.

  “It’s a miracle you still got ‘em, safe and sound, you know.”

  “I do,” Ed replied. “It’s the only thing I know for sure anymore.”

  Mitchell nodded, then paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Ed wondered what he might be thinking about. He thought better than to ask; he had his own demons he didn’t necessarily want to discuss. No doubt Mitchell had his too.

  Then suddenly Dave looked up from his hands at Mitchell. “You could have been killed back there. Why did you step in? Why risk it? Why not just snipe us all from a distance?”

  Mitchell took a deep breath, then exhaled. “‘Cause it was the right thing to do,” he replied.

  “That’s it?” Dave asked.

  “Well sure. Ain’t that reason enough?”

  “Things aren’t that simple anymore.”

  “Actually,” Mitchell replied, “they are.” He took a deep breath. “Look, there are two lists in life; a list of things we can do and a list of things we should do. I work off the second one. Just because you can do a thing doesn’t always mean you should.”