Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  “How do you know I haven't?” the convoy's leader asked, more surprised than anything.

  The sheriff snorted. “Well for one thing I try to keep my eyes open, give a proper greeting to everyone who comes through here. I've got a good memory and I've never seen you before.” He hooked a thumb Tom's way. “Secondly you wouldn't hire a guide if you didn't need one. Although admittedly you can't do much better than old Trapper here for traveling the badlands.”

  “He certainly charges like he's the best,” the convoy's leader grumbled.

  Gray just grinned at that. “With a new convoy and faces I haven't seen before, I'm guessing you're not here for trade. Settlers on your way to Texas?”

  Again the redheaded man looked surprised. “You've got a good eye, Sheriff.”

  “Hardly. These days all roads lead to Newpost, at least as far as convoys on the move are concerned. We've had three come through just this week alone, heading for a new life everyone can't seem to stop talking about.”

  “Same true of Harmon's convoy?” Tom asked. “Folks in Emery were wondering why he hadn't come yet, and no word of him.”

  “Yeah, he figured the trading would be better where everyone else is going.” Gray hesitated. “On that topic, I should warn you we've had warning of increased bandit activity along the major roads leading there. To be expected with so many people headed that way, I suppose, but you should be cautious.” He frowned back along the newly arrived convoy. “Groups bigger than this have been hit.”

  Simon glanced at Tom. “We plan to make our own route.”

  The sheriff looked somewhat disbelieving as he glanced at Tom, who just shrugged noncommittally. “Well I suppose if Trapper thinks he can get you through you've got a good shot. Fair warning, though, the badlands aren't forgiving to folks who don't know it.”

  “I guess we'll have to learn then,” the convoy's leader said resolutely. “Any suggestions on where we can set up camp, and who might be able to offer supplies?”

  “Your guide could tell you all that,” Gray said with a shrug. “Although I suppose it's an excuse to chat a bit, get to know the newcomers before you pass on through.”

  True to his word the sheriff led them to a good campsite near water and facilities, and pointed them to several stores that should be able to provide the supplies they needed. But in spite of his talk about chatting with them the man didn't say much, briefly answering the questions Simon posed him while attentively watching everyone in the convoy.

  Tom knew well that Gray was sizing up threats, not just those who might be capable of handling themselves in a fight but those most likely to cause trouble. And as the sheriff viewed it the latter were worth more attention, because dangerous men who kept to themselves were only a problem for the idiots who tried to start things with them.

  That was probably why they got on well enough. Tom didn't think of himself as particularly dangerous, but he certainly did his best to keep to himself and sidestep confrontations.

  As the convoy settled in for the night the sheriff shook their hands again and took his leave. “Stop by Moody's later if you're in the mood for a drink,” he offered. “I could stand to hear more about the situation in Utah, especially what you learned about the Utah Valley fallout zone being bigger than you realized.” He grimaced. “That's a concern for everyone living on the fringes of the fallout zones.”

  “We'll see you there,” Tom agreed before Simon could refuse, as it looked like he planned to. He shot a look at the convoy's leader. “We can discuss the next leg of our trip over the drink you're going to buy me.”

  Gray chuckled. “Until then.” With a last wave he walked off.

  Once he was out of earshot Simon gave Tom a narrow look. “Going to buy you a drink, am I? Taken out of your pay?”

  “What pay?” Tom shot back, only half joking. “I'd say I've guided you well up til now and it's a long way to Texas. I could do with a reminder that you're my employer, not some random traveling companion who frequently pisses and moans about the absurd fee he hasn't paid me yet.”

  The convoy's leader sighed. “One drink,” he groused.

  It took a while to get the camp set up and eat dinner, but in spite of his reluctance Simon wasted no time heading for the bar. Tom assumed he was eager to speak with the sheriff and get more news about the road ahead.

  Come to it, so was he.

  Moody's was on the main stretch through Grand Junction where the most prosperous stores, bars, restaurants, and hotels were located. In spite of that the bar was a grubbier place, a haunt for convoy teamsters, law enforcement deputies, and wanderers. Unlike a lot of bars that offered other services, not all of them wholly upstanding, Moody's was all about drinking. They barely even served food, aside from hard cheese and bread from the local bakery.

  Tom liked it well enough.

  It looked as if Gray wasn't there yet, although Tom nodded a greeting to some of the man's deputies. He and Simon took a seat at the end of the bar and Moody, big and surly as ever, came over. “Double whiskey,” Tom told him.

  The man rolled his eyes. “And another when the first is finished?” he asked wryly.

  Simon cut in. “Just the one, thanks. And water for me.”

  Moody shook his head as he headed off to fill their order. “Man could go out of business serving customers like you.”

  The convoy's leader looked around. “Looks as if Gray hasn't shown yet. I'm going to go find an outhouse while we wait.” Tom just grunted in response, and the man slipped back through the tables and out the door.

  The barkeeper slid Tom's glass to him, plopped a glass of slightly cloudy water down in front of Simon's empty seat, and walked off to chat with someone at the other end of the bar. Tom took a sip and leaned back, scanning the room to see who he recognized. He hadn't been through Grand Junction for almost a full year, and while he wasn't really one for making friends there were some folks he wouldn't mind touching base with. Swapping stories.

  At a nearby table two men were engaged in a heated discussion. At the volume they were speaking it was kind of hard not to listen in, especially when Tom realized they were talking about the road ahead. Or at least one possible route.

  “Look, I'm not saying it's true,” one of the men said, raising his hands. “That's just what Jerry told me.”

  “That he heard engines in the night a few miles south of Trinidad?” His friend snorted with amusement and took another swig of beer. “Reports of working vehicles that somehow still have fuel to run them are the post-Ultimatum version of a UFO story. Jerry's pissing on your leg and calling it rain.”

  “Yeah maybe.” The first man sipped his own drink, frowning. “But there've been all those weird rumors from convoys coming out of Texas. And talk of the ones that never did.”

  His friend shrugged. “Highway robbery. What do you expect when a place suddenly becomes a boomtown with settlers and traders coming from all over to share the prosperity? Bandits have to be all over Newpost like flies on a carcass.”

  “Even so, I'm having second thoughts about joining Stilton's convoy next week. Besides, with everyone making for Texas other trade routes are going neglected. I bet there's good money to be made with a run to Utah or Wyoming.”

  “Yeah, have fun with that. They'll trade you moldy buckskins and withered potatoes for your trouble, while Newpost is sending out real food by the wagonload. There's a reason everyone's going there.”

  The first man scowled. “The money's in the ventures nobody else is taking on. Everyone knows that.”

  His friend shrugged doubtfully. “Hope so.”

  Simon came back, looking a bit more relaxed, and stared dubiously at his water as he settled back in his seat. “It won't kill you,” Tom assured him.

  “Fantastic,” the convoy's leader muttered, taking a cautious sip. He turned. “So, our route from here.”

  Tom nodded and began tracing an invisible map on the bar's slightly grimy surface. “We've got a choice moving forward. We could
either swing far south and circle around the Colorado Rockies, or we head southwest through them and then cut south for a ways on the other side before turning southeast.”

  Simon rubbed his chin, which Tom noticed sported a few days' growth of rust colored beard. It made a stark contrast to his clean shaven appearance at their first meeting in Emery. “Let me guess: if we circle south we'll be traveling through badlands but it'll be flatter and we'll make better time. If we go through the mountains we'll be climbing or descending most of the time and it's going to be murder on our people with handcarts. Everyone else too, really.”

  Tom nodded. “Going through the mountains is more direct, though, enough so it would probably make up whatever time you lost from moving slower. There are other advantages too, like the temperatures will be more comfortable and it'll be easier to find water, fish, game, and forage. On the other hand it's the more well used route, which means we'll be more likely to encounter bandits. And up in the mountains it'll be harder to go off the established roads so we might have to risk walking into potential ambushes.”

  The convoy's leader grimaced. “Sounds like your vote is south.”

  “Actually I recommend the mountains.” At the man's surprised look Tom shrugged. “I know the mountains, been through them half a dozen times. I've only taken the southern route once, there and back. It's not terrible, and I could lead you through it in a pinch, but I prefer confronting any problems we might run into on terrain I know. Also if we take the southern route we'll have to swing a lot farther south before we can turn east again, which'll take us through more desolate terrain most of the way to Texas.”

  “Definitely not a fan of that. How far would we be traveling through mountains?”

  Tom shrugged again. “About two hundred miles to reach the badlands on the other side.”

  Simon whistled. “Over a third of the remaining distance.”

  “Yeah, this is a major decision.”

  The convoy's leader mulled it over for a few minutes, then shrugged and gave him a lopsided, if weary, grin. “It'll be nice to escape the heat. I've always liked mountains.”

  Tom was a bit relieved the man had chosen that route. Although it meant there would be more of a burden on him to sniff out potential trouble as they traveled.

  They spent a few minutes discussing the route and the preparations to be made while they were in Grand Junction. As Tom had planned it they wouldn't be passing through any other trade hubs between here and Newpost, which meant any supplies they needed had to be purchased here. Simon agreed they should spend the day tomorrow resting and making final preparations before the big departure. Maybe even two days depending on what needed to be done.

  As they were going over specifics Gray finally showed up. To Tom's delight the man offered to get the next round as they chatted, so it looked like he'd get his habitual two drinks after all.

  Surprisingly Simon ordered the same; given how he'd stuck to water until now Tom had assumed he wasn't interested in anything alcoholic, but it turned out he was just a penny pincher. He downed his drink eagerly once Moody slid it in front of him, and seemed a bit disappointed when the sheriff didn't offer to buy him another.

  They spent the next hour or so talking news, discussing what was happening in Utah and what Gray knew of things on the road to Texas and the situation there. From there the conversation drifted to swapping stories, mostly between Tom and Gray. Simon had been a farmer and planned to continue that life in Texas, so aside from his recollections of the shortages and Ultimatum he didn't have many exciting tales to spin.

  The Ultimatum wasn't Tom's favorite topic, probably wasn't anyone's, but to keep the convoy's leader in the discussion he let talk drift that way. Unfortunately soon they were reminiscing about the turbulent times during the shortages, which definitely wasn't Tom's favorite topic, so he finished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

  Then he stood from the table with an exaggerated yawn. “Thanks for the drink, Sheriff.” He nodded to Simon. “And for yours. I'm going to call it a night now.”

  The two men seemed inclined to keep up the discussion, so Tom left them to it and headed out into the night, making for the convoy's camp.

  Chapter Five

  Resupply

  Kristy was up bright and early the next morning, planning to go into town right after breakfast to purchase more food and other necessities.

  Simon came around while they were eating to let them know that this was their last spot to get supplies until they reached Newpost. Bob obviously wasn't pleased by that, and to be honest Kristy also felt a sinking in her gut at the news.

  They still had at least two months of traveling to reach Texas, which meant they'd need to load their handcart down with a disheartening amount of food, on top of all their other possessions. At least the convoy's leader had let them know their next leg was through the mountains, where water would be more readily available, so they could shed a little weight there.

  And by the time they reached the badlands on the other side they'd have eaten through weeks' worth of food, so that would even out a bit. Even so, the prospect of slogging up mountain roads with an overburdened cart made her want to roll back in her blankets and go back to sleep.

  She was so stiff and sore it had taken her twice as long as it should've to climb out of her blankets in the first place, and she'd hobbled around like an old lady as she went through the morning routine until her muscles had loosened up a bit. Her back was still a throbbing agony, and some movements caused a twinge that made her wince.

  But at least they were resting today; in her current condition she wasn't sure she could've handled another day of pushing the handcart. She only hoped it would be enough to recover for what was coming, which by all signs was going to be twice as brutal.

  After breakfast Kristy double checked she still had her money and made sure Skyler was ready to go into town, while Vicky and Bob helped Lisa pack up a last few of her things before leaving. They were all going to be going, leaving their possessions under the watchful care of a few of their neighbors in the convoy. Although if the shopping took too long Bob announced he might have to leave them to it, wanting to repair some damage to the cart he'd noticed as they'd traveled over the last couple weeks.

  Everyone's mood was light as they walked the short distance to the street along which most of the stores could be found. It wasn't exactly a vacation or a tourist visit, but compared to the drudgery of hauling the handcart it felt like one.

  She spotted other members of the convoy on the streets looking to purchase supplies, and waved or nodded to a few of their closer neighbors. But their handcart group stayed on its own as they began entering stores to ask about supplies, see what was available, and most importantly determine who had the best prices.

  It didn't take long to learn that “best” was a relative term. From what Kristy was able to learn the rush of settlers to Texas was greater than the flow of traffic Grand Junction was used to. Sure, convoys returning from Newpost were bringing food as their primary trade good, which was gladly received, but even most of that was getting bought up by convoys heading back that way.

  Emery had been pricey enough, but for all Tom's assurances that this would be the better trading post costs were even higher here. It didn't take a genius at math to tally up what she and Skyler needed and realize she was coming up short.

  She'd wanted to reach Newpost with at least a little silver left to start their new life. Now she worried she might not have enough to even get there.

  Vicky noticed her worried look and pulled her off to one side, speaking quietly. “We still haven't checked everywhere. We might find better prices somewhere else.”

  Kristy's shoulders slumped. “It would have to be an incredible discount,” she whispered back.

  The petite woman's brow furrowed with concern. “How much do you have?” Kristy's expression must've been answer enough because her friend pulled her into a hug, then stepped away. “Just a second
.”

  She watched Vicky walk back to the others, and it was Bob's turn to be pulled aside. Kristy returned to manage the kids while her friends talked, stomach churning with hope and guilt in equal measures. She was certain Vicky was trying to convince Bob to lend Kristy a bit so she could buy enough supplies to get her and her son to Texas.

  It was her only hope of making it there, and she was incredibly grateful to the petite woman for being willing to extend that helping hand without a moment's hesitation. But she and Skyler had already accepted so much generosity from the Hendricksons, far more than they could ever repay. She hated to ask for more even if there was no one else she could turn to.

  “Mom, can I go outside?” Skyler abruptly asked, fidgeting. “This is boring and I want to see the town.”

  Kristy gave her son a stern look. “There's no way I'm letting you wander a strange city on your own.”

  Her son's return look was wounded. “I'm not going to wander around!” he protested. “I'll just wait outside the door, look around a bit.”

  Vicky came back, Bob in tow. “We've decided to pool resources to purchase supplies,” she said, giving Kristy a wink. “We might be able to get a discount if we buy in bulk. Why don't you give Bob what you have and we'll look to buy for five people?”

  Kristy hugged them both, tears filling her eyes as a surge of gratitude swept over her. “Thanks,” she whispered in her friend's ear.

  “Mom?” Skyler asked insistently. Kristy distractedly waved for him to go, drawing out her all too light purse and handing it over to her friend's husband as they fell into a discussion about ways they might be able to make do with less, both less supplies and less weight in the cart.

  Her son wandered out the door, hands in his pockets.

  * * * * *

  Tom had ended up getting a small advance on his pay from Simon.

  It couldn't really be helped. He had more than enough dried meat to take him all the way to Texas, and he'd be able to hunt more on the way, especially through the mountains. But meat alone couldn't supply everything he needed. He'd already eaten through half the food he'd purchased in Emery, which was supposed to supplement the greens and roots he foraged on the mountain slopes and had never been meant to supply the bulk of his diet.