Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  It turned out he was lucky, because a few hundred yards downstream he saw a jackrabbit browsing in the grass beneath a bush. He unslung his rifle and took careful aim, downing it with a shot to the head.

  Killing a rabbit with a .308 was vastly overkill, but his .357 wasn't any better and anyway he was a comparatively terrible shot with the revolver, he used it so rarely. Lacking any better option he used the tool he had, although up in the mountains he preferred to catch them with traps and save the rifle for deer and elk.

  As he was dressing his kill he spotted Simon heading down the canyon toward him, moving cautiously with his AR-15 held at the ready. Several other men holding rifles and shotguns followed with equal caution.

  Tom wiped off his knife on the rabbit's fur and sheathed it. Then he straightened slowly and waved to draw their attention, raising the rabbit so they could see it clearly. The convoy's leader relaxed and motioned for his men to head back to the convoy, then came over, looking irritated. “Gave us a bit of a fright, firing a round within a stone's throw of the convoy.”

  Tom felt stupid for not thinking of that; he was too used to being on his own, where the most consideration he gave to a gunshot was possibly giving away his presence to people who might wish him harm. “Told you I'd be hunting where I could.” He shook the rabbit slightly. “Speaking of which I should only need about a third of this. Like we agreed you can share the rest out with your people.”

  Simon looked only slightly mollified at that. “Two thirds of a rabbit, huh? When you said you were going to be hunting for us I figured you'd be bringing down deer, elk.”

  “I would absolutely love to.” Tom held out his arms to indicate the landscape. “See any deer around here?”

  The redheaded man scowled but got back on topic. “I suppose you'd whistle if we really needed to worry about something, so there's no need to panic with every gunshot. Just be a bit more responsible about it.”

  “I'll give the all clear signal after firing rounds from now on,” Tom promised. He hesitated. “By the way, is there any chance I could borrow a varmint gun? A .22 would be better for most of the game I'll be aiming for. Or even a .223.”

  Simon gave him a thoughtful look. “If it increases your chances of bringing in game for us?” He shrugged. “I'll talk to one of my men.”

  “Fair enough.” Tom drew his knife again and expertly chopped off the jackrabbit's haunch, then offered the rest of the carcass. “I'm going to find one of your people's fires to cook this.”

  Simon accepted the meat. “My wagon's got a blaze going for tea and griddle cakes. Help yourself to it. I've got a couple of my men on guard duty while we're stopped so the convoy should be fine.” He motioned in invitation.

  Tom hadn't seen anything worrying in his own scouting, so he nodded and walked back with the convoy's leader. Maybe he'd break out his pan and fry up the rabbit meat with a diced potato and onion in some grease. He could add some salt and sage and make it a proper meal.

  * * * * *

  The first thing Kristy did when they stopped for lunch was sprawl on a rock and take off her shoes so she could rub her sore feet.

  She knew she should be helping Vicky with the meal; the convoy wouldn't stop for long and they'd already had to catch up a couple hundred yards to the lead wagon. But she was exhausted and her feet were killing her and she just needed a minute before getting up again.

  “Think we have time to start a fire?” Vicky asked.

  Bob made a doubtful noise. “I dunno. That's more for mornings and evenings when we're camped. During the day we should keep doing what we have been, try to make do with food on the go so we can get some extra distance in. I don't want to end up hauling this thing after dark to catch up.”

  The petite woman sighed and made her way over to plop down on the rock next to Kristy. “I hope you wash your hands before handling food,” her friend said, staring pointedly at her slightly dirty socks.

  Kristy flushed, but before she could reply Vicky abruptly straightened and gave her a sharp nudge. She gave her friend an annoyed look, about to ask her what had gotten into her, when a cheerful voice called out from behind. “You folks holding up?”

  She turned to see Simon Randall approaching their handcart, holding most of a skinned rabbit in one hand. She had to admit she felt a bit of excitement at the sight. Of the man, of course, not the rabbit. Although a bit of fresh meat right about now sounded nice, too.

  She awkwardly stood in her socks to greet the convoy's leader as he joined them. “How are the Grahams and Hendricksons doing after a morning's travel?” he asked, giving her a warm smile and ruffling Skyler's hair, making the boy twist away with an irritated look.

  Bob came over to shake his hand. “Sore but in one piece.” He nodded at the carcass. “Got yourself a jackrabbit for lunch?”

  Simon's smile widened. “Nope, got yourselves a jackrabbit for lunch.” Kristy wasn't the only one who perked up at that as he continued. “Our guide brought it down while scouting. Part of his deal with us is that after he takes his portion he'll give the rest of the meat to us. And when trying to decide who in the convoy should get it I immediately thought of you.”

  Vicky gave her a wide grin, practically winking she was hinting so strongly, and Kristy felt her face flush. Although she wasn't entirely displeased. “Well thank you, Mr. Randall. That's very kind of you.”

  “Simon, please,” the redheaded man insisted, handing the rabbit over to Bob. “I'm just happy to see it's going to those who can make good use of it.” He winked at the kids, who all looked eager at the thought of fresh meat.

  “Yes thank you, Simon,” Vicky said, still smirking her way. “Won't you join us for lunch?”

  Kristy's flush deepened, and she wasn't sure whether to hug her friend or hit her. But the convoy's leader immediately shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but there's not more than a few bites for everyone as it is. I wouldn't want to deprive you.”

  “Then how about you join us for dinner?” the petite woman pressed. “Bob plays a mean harmonica.”

  Simon looked pleased at the offer. “I will, thanks.” He clapped Bob on the back and turned away, waving over his shoulder. “Well, I better get back to it.”

  As he walked off Bob carefully handed the carcass to Skyler to hold and got to work gathering sticks and kindling for a fire, Lisa joining him to help out. While they were busy with that Kristy pulled her friend aside. “What part of “I'm still grieving for my recently deceased husband” aren't you getting?” she hissed.

  Vicky gave her an innocent look. “It's just some music and conversation around the fire. Besides, he lost his wife to radiation sickness too, and it would be good for you to talk to someone who can sympathize with what you went through. It's not like I invited him to sleep in your tent.”

  She threw up her hands. “You're awful.” But she was smiling as she got to work preparing a skillet for cooking the convoy leader's gift.

  Simon was right that the meat was only good for a small portion each, even cooked with cut up roots to give it bulk. But Kristy savored every bite with pure satisfaction, taking her time chewing and swallowing. She hadn't had fresh meat since Miles grew too sick to hunt, and the flavor it added to the meal almost made the prospect of spending the rest of the day hauling a heavy cart tolerable.

  But all too soon they had to put out the fire, pick up the push bar of the cart or take their place behind it, and start after the convoy as it moved out.

  It was a bit past noon now, the hottest part of the day, and in spite of the fact it was early May the sun beat down harshly in a cloudless sky. Kristy was soon sweating from exertion as well as heat, the rough-sanded wood of the cart unpleasantly hot against her shoulder as she struggled with the others to get it over a dip in the ground.

  The rim wheels creaked steady rotations grinding over the gritty dirt, which she counted as the slow minutes passed and sweat streamed down her face. Dust kicked up by the people and animals in front of them c
aked on her damp skin and clothes, and she wished they could manage better speed so they'd stay farther up in the line.

  She was going to look like a complete mess by the time Simon came around for dinner. Hopefully she'd have a chance to wash up beforehand, maybe even find some privacy to change into her single set of spare clothes.

  Kristy glanced up at Bob, struggling at the push bar alongside his wife, and knew that even as hard as she, Vicky, and Skyler were working the man was doing the lion's share of the pushing. She glanced ahead to where Lisa walked alongside the cart, taking a brief rest, and wondered how long it would be before she could trade places for a break of her own.

  The hours dragged by, one after another like some sort of miserable purgatory. The convoy moved on with grim determination, but even with their best efforts the people pushing carts or carrying burdens on their backs were occasionally forced to stop and rest. Kristy and the others enjoyed a brief burst of extra energy when word trickled down that they were nearing I-70, but they were barely in sight of it when that hope plummeted into leaden resignation when they realized what that meant.

  A few hundred yards short of the interstate, just before they'd need to cross a stream Kristy heard called Ivie Creek, the convoy turned off the rutted road they were on, which rundown as it was had at least been fairly level and straight, and started off across the flat terrain. A rugged, steep formation rose between them and the highway, the creek trickling through it. Forbidding as it was, it kept them out of sight of the road and any threats that might come with it.

  If Kristy had thought pushing the cart on cracked and rutted pavement was difficult, this was far more so. The few brief times they'd been forced to leave the road on the way down from Utah Valley, usually to avoid obstacles or spots where it was too degraded to travel on, were nothing compared to this.

  The ground for the most part was dry, loose dirt, which shifted underfoot almost like sand and pulled at the cart's wheels. At times they passed over smooth slickrock, which was easier, but it was hard underfoot and rarely perfectly flat, which did annoying things to balance. The worst was a mix between the two, loose stony soil that unexpectedly turned underfoot and blocked the wheels with half buried rocks, forcing them to heave hard to get the cart over them or veer this way and that to avoid the worst of them.

  A bit less than half a mile after leaving the road they hit Muddy Creek again. Their mountain man guide had found a spot where they could ford it, but it involved a brief unpleasant squelch through ankle deep water with mud and silt clinging to their shoes.

  Once across it Simon called a more formal halt to pause and dry off their shoes and socks and clean wheels. Kristy was only too happy to slump down on a stone to pull her footwear off and squeeze them out, then set them beside her to dry while she once again rubbed at her sore feet. Callouses had formed during the trip from Utah Valley, but beneath them she was sure she could feel blisters forming. She hoped not; it was already hard enough to walk.

  The only consolation was that at least the convoy's leader didn't drop by to say hello and see what a mess she looked.

  Vicky plopped down beside her, stripping off her own shoes and socks and wringing them out as best she could. “Only a few hours to dinner,” she said wearily. “Think we'll stop for it?”

  That was a good question. Up until now Simon had just advised them to eat a late afternoon snack on the move and push on until an hour or two before dark, when they could set up camp and prepare the evening meal. But if they were trying to push for distance now it was more likely they'd stop for a brief dinner, then push on and keep going until they barely had time to set up tents and light fires before full dark.

  In that case, if Simon joined them for dinner she wouldn't really have time to clean herself up first. That would be a disaster.

  All too soon they were on the move again. Over the next couple hours Kristy's exhaustion became more and more pronounced, until she wasn't sure whether she even could push on long enough for a late dinner and setting up camp. Skyler and Lisa were even worse off, arms so limp they were helping push by putting their backs to the cart and walking backwards in a weary shuffle.

  Even though they desperately needed the help Kristy couldn't bear to push the poor kids any further, and a questioning glance at Vicky confirmed she felt the same. So they had the two take the rest of the evening off to walk among the infrequent plants, gathering sticks for the dinner fire.

  Leaving the adults to struggle on without them.

  The convoy's wagons and pack animals were pulling farther and farther ahead, creating the familiar late afternoon/early evening divide between them and the handcarts. She noticed Simon's scouts lagging farther and farther behind to make sure they were protected, and even spotted the mountain man walking a circuit around the convoy to make sure there were no threats in the surrounding area.

  It was almost disgusting seeing how purposefully, almost energetically, the man walked. She supposed scouting ahead wasn't as hard when the convoy was moving slower and slower, giving him time to check to the sides and behind. And while it was hard to be impressed by his energy when he hadn't spent all day pushing a cart, she had to admit he'd been traveling twice the distance the rest of them had, all while lugging that pack of his that looked jarringly modern compared to his buckskins.

  And he'd found time to hunt some more, too; she noticed he was carrying a smaller ranch rifle along with his usual big scoped monster, and he'd brought down another rabbit that now hung on his belt next to a brace of rock chucks.

  For a moment she harbored the hope that Simon would share more of the meat with them, but then she reluctantly told herself the rest of the convoy would all want their fair portions too.

  In the end they didn't stop for dinner, but Simon did call a longer rest break so people could have a snack and stretch sore muscles. Then they continued on for a few more hours as the sun sank towards the horizon, for the last stretch turning north to put even more distance between them and the interstate. They finally stopped in a nice little rut in the ground that would block out the light of their fires from the highway.

  Bob immediately got to work on a fire, while Kristy and Vicky took a moment to wash the dust of the road off their faces and hands before getting to work on dinner, which was skillet cornbread that evening. The knowledge that the day was done and they'd gone farther than planned, almost thirteen miles, had them all in a cheerful mood.

  Their good cheer only improved when Simon came around to visit as promised, dragging a rock over to sit near Kristy, which Vicky didn't fail to notice, smirking at her with a raised eyebrow. After dinner the group sang songs accompanied by Bob's harmonica and chatted for a while, and the convoy's leader made it a point to direct most of his conversation towards Kristy.

  His interest was obvious. A little too obvious at times, and she found herself flushing in embarrassment at his frank assessment of her in spite of her dirt-caked clothes.

  But she couldn't bear to return it. Her loss was still so recent that it was impossible not to feel guilty about flirting with another man. Like she was betraying Miles. Especially since Skyler was still young enough that he might not understand why; he liked Simon well enough, even held him in awe like many in the convoy did, but Kristy doubted he'd be happy if he realized the man was trying to replace his father.

  Even so it was nice to talk to someone new for a change. She hadn't done much socializing with anyone but Bob and Vicky and their kids since losing her husband, and she'd missed it. And her friend was right that Simon understood and sympathized with what she was going through, since the convoy's leader had lost his wife almost a year ago.

  Natalie Randall's symptoms had pointed to prolonged exposure to dangerous levels of radiation. They'd never had children, perhaps because that radiation had caused infertility or simply because they weren't able to, and Simon was left alone after her death.

  The loss had hit the man hard, and after burying his wife he'd made it his goal to
discover why she'd become ill with radiation poisoning. He was the one who discovered that the fallout from the Utah Valley nuclear blast had spread farther than anyone realized, and that the fringes of the fallout zone where he and several other families were living was actually part of it.

  Around that same time word had begun reaching them about the opportunities in Texas, and with families packing up to move farther away from the fallout zone anyway Simon began pushing for everyone to travel there instead to start their new life.

  He'd argued that just moving a few miles away from the fallout might not be enough, and years later they might discover they were still being exposed to dangerous levels of radiation. And besides, if they were going to the effort of moving they might as well go somewhere with the promise of a future.

  Not all the families fleeing the newly expanded borders of the fallout zone chose to go with him. But that was made up for by the fact that many families still in arguably safe territory, including the Hendricksons and Kristy and Skyler, had decided to join him swayed by the hope Texas represented.

  And so here they all were, on the road fulfilling that dream. And the man who'd made it happen was sitting next to Kristy, trying not to be obvious about it when his eyes wandered away from her face to the rest of her body as they chatted.

  She had to admit his frankness made her a bit uncomfortable, but she couldn't deny she enjoyed it a bit as well. It was nice to know that even after bearing and raising a child and with the hard life she'd lived men still found her attractive.

  And to be fair, a lot of that discomfort came from her own relative lack of familiarity with men. Miles had been as comfortable as an old glove, someone she knew nearly as well as she knew herself and trusted completely. There had been no awkwardness or uncertainty there, no confusion about what made him happy or annoyed her about him sometimes.

  But she and her husband had married young, and sooner than planned when she became pregnant with Skyler. Before that, before the shortages and Ultimatum when the world hadn't been crazy, she'd barely had a chance to do some harmless flirting and go on a few dates with boys who were just as nervous and awkward as she was. Usually more so.