Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  Skyler, wakened by her alarmed movements and now on his feet over by the ATV, snickered at her embarrassed expression; in spite of her annoyance and the grief that still threatened to crush her spirit Kristy had to admit it was nice to see her son's mood somewhat recovered.

  She hastily slung the rifle over her shoulder, hurrying forward to meet the old mountain man with her son dogging her heels. “Well?” she demanded.

  He trudged past her, unslinging his own rifle and setting it carefully on the ATV's cargo rack before getting to work taking off his pack.

  “About what I expected. The attackers may have had vehicles but even so space must've been at a premium: they picked the convoy clean of the most valuable stuff, took the surviving settlers with them, and left everything else behind.”

  She felt a sick feeling at the news. She'd known it was coming, but it still hurt to hear confirmation that her friends and companions, people she'd known as neighbors and friends even before she spent months traveling and living with them, had all met that sort of fate here in the badlands.

  “The people they didn't take?” she asked quietly, thinking of Brad and the others. She didn't want to hear it but she needed to.

  Tom glanced at Skyler, then answered the question by meeting her eyes and shaking his head grimly. Kristy felt tears welling, her vision momentarily blurring until she could blink them away. She stepped back, hand on her son's shoulder, and let the mountain man focus on securing his pack to the cargo rack in preparation to travel.

  “I don't get it,” Skyler said. She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or Tom. “If they didn't have space for everything then why take everyone prisoner instead of taking more loot?”

  Kristy gave Tom a beseeching look, but he showed no sign of answering, focused on his work. So she met her son's eyes and tried to keep her voice calm. “They took those people to make them do work for them, honey.”

  Skyler's expression twisted in disgust. “You mean like slavery?” he demanded.

  Tom finally decided to pipe in. “A lot of evils have found their way back into what's left of society since we nuked the world. But I'll admit this is a new one for me, even far as I've traveled across the Southwest.”

  Kristy gave her son a gentle push. “We're getting ready to leave. Go get your things.” He nodded and scampered back to the overhang, leaving her alone with the mountain man. She fidgeted, surprised at how hard it was to speak up. “Um, I wanted to thank you. For helping me and my son.”

  He paused and glanced at her, then shrugged and kept working. Now he was going through the cargo compartments slung under the rack on the back of the ATV again to see what they had.

  She grit her teeth at his taciturn response and forced herself to keep going. “Have you decided what you're going to do?”

  Tom grunted and finally straightened, giving her his full attention. “You realize those attackers came from the south, right?” he asked quietly. “You still want to go that way, probably right into their welcoming arms?”

  Kristy didn't like hearing that particular dose of reality, even though the possibility had certainly crossed her mind. But as she searched inside herself she realized she still felt like Texas was where they needed to go. “The only hope Simon and the Hendricksons and the others have is if we can get help for them in Newpost,” she stated. He stared at her, waiting for a clear answer, and she squared her shoulders determinedly. “I want to go.”

  The mountain man kept staring at her, his expression impossible to read under his thick beard, and soon it was a struggle not to hunch her shoulders under his scrutiny. Even though she'd corrected her son earlier, it was true the man's bloodstained clothes and hair made him look frighteningly savage.

  “I believe a person's integrity is all they really have in this world,” he finally said quietly. “Look me dead in the eye and promise me your contaminated treasure is real and you've described it accurately.”

  Kristy nodded and looked deep into his gray eyes, wondering why it was so hard to meet that piercing stare when she was telling the truth. “I swear on my husband's grave it's real, and I've described it to you just how he described it to me. When you get me to Newpost I'll tell you exactly how to find it.”

  To her relief Tom finally turned away, moving over to grab the four wheeler's starter cord. “Okay then,” he said over his shoulder. “If we keep following this fold we'll eventually reach that stream we stopped for water at a couple days ago. We might have to leave this beast behind and hoof it the last hundred yards or so, maybe even do some climbing, but it'll be a good, secluded place to set up camp.”

  She started in surprise and hurried over to face him across the ATV. “Wait, we're not going to the convoy?”

  The mountain man shook his head. “I don't think the bandits will come back, but even so it wouldn't be a good idea to camp near it. I've finished all the urgent business there anyway, so there's no reason not to find a more safe and comfortable place to spend the night. We can head there in the morning and pack up what we need to continue on to Newpost.”

  Kristy had to admit she didn't like that. Sure, a proper camp sounded nice, but she'd been hoping to get a chance to return to the convoy sooner rather than later. Difficult as it would be, she wanted to say goodbye to Brad and the others. Maybe get some closure by kneeling by their graves.

  Speaking of which . . . Kristy glanced over at Skyler, still rolling up his bundle, and lowered her voice. “Did you get a chance to, well, to bury everyone?”

  Even through his wild beard she saw the pained look that flashed across the man's face. “As best I could,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “Well can't we at least go pay our-”

  “No.” He motioned curtly to his bloodstained clothes. “I'd like to clean up, feel human again, and I don't want to waste fuel on unnecessary trips. Every drop we save will get us that much closer to Texas.”

  Well it was hard to argue with that, although his attitude felt callous to her. Kristy nodded reluctantly and went to fetch her son, helping him tie his bundle beside hers as Tom yanked the starter cord and the ATV rumbled to life.

  Soon they were on their way again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Camp

  The mountain man hadn't been lying about needing to do some climbing to get down to the stream. He helped Kristy and Skyler down the roughest parts, though, even pulling out a rope of rough braided leather strips to secure them.

  The stream was barely too wide for her to step across, although relatively small as it was it had still cut a deep gulch through the landscape, along which ran a narrow strip of green vegetation. Or at least green for the badlands; mostly tough bushes and desert plants, it still looked lush compared to the desolation around them.

  By the time they finished the climb down the sun had sunk below the steep wall of the gulch to the west, throwing shadows over the bottom of the gulch beneath a brilliant line of sunlight climbing the opposite wall. Combined with the flowing water and plants the shade made the air feel almost cool and pleasant, and Kristy had to admit this place did seem like a much nicer site for a camp than out on the sun-baked stone.

  Tom dropped his pack and the other things he'd brought with him onto a flat patch of soft dirt and declared it their campsite, then immediately made a beeline for the stream. He kicked off his moccasins in preparation for splashing into the shallow water, and at the same time unabashedly stripped off his buckskin shirt.

  Although thankfully just that. Even so Kristy looked away with a surge of annoyance as the mountain man waded into the stream, setting down her own bundle and motioning to Skyler. “Come on. Let's get our things organized, see what we have.” Her son nodded and got to work helping her.

  To her chagrin she found herself sneaking a peek at Tom as she worked, although in her defense it was mostly curiosity about what the scrawny old mountain man looked like under the rough leather he always wore.

  It turned out he didn't look anything like she expecte
d, actually appearing closer to his prime than old or withered. He was more wiry than muscular, but he definitely had a sort of feline grace it was hard not to appreciate. Even the presence of a few scars, most notably what looked like bite marks from a large animal on one arm, did nothing to mar his physique.

  The unexpectedness of the sight as much as her own reaction caused Kristy to look away quickly, flushing in embarrassment.

  He finished washing up a few minutes later, came back to camp just long enough to grab a few things from his pack and the bundle he'd brought with him, then without a word disappeared downstream. A short time later he returned, and Kristy was surprised to see he'd changed out of his buckskins and into a clean pair of jeans and a dark gray long sleeved shirt, both of which were in pretty good repair.

  She hadn't even realized he had anything but the leather he'd worn for months. The thought teased at the back of her mind that maybe he didn't, that he'd “scavenged” them while he was investigating the convoy.

  Well, she could hardly blame him if he had, considering his old clothes had been practically ruined defending her and her son. Besides, tomorrow morning they planned to go to the remains of the convoy and pick it over for anything useful to help them get across the badlands anyway, so she wasn't really in a position to judge.

  In any case the man looked clean and refreshed, in much better spirits as he began rummaging in his pack. After digging around a bit he produced a pair of haircutting scissors and a straight razor, talking to Kristy over his shoulder as he kept searching. “There's a hollow a hundred or so yards downstream. Pretty secluded. Me and the kid can stay busy here if you want to go wash up.”

  Just the thought of shedding her stiff, gritty clothes and splashing water on her overheated skin almost made Kristy feel dizzy, although she felt wary about being in such a vulnerable position within stone's throw of a man she barely knew.

  But to be fair Tom had been traveling with the convoy for months now and she'd never heard any complaints about him, or seen any reason to assume he was anything other than a gentleman. Besides, she supposed if she had to trust him now was the time to start.

  “Thanks,” she said, then paused reluctantly. “Um, I noticed you have-”

  Without waiting for her to finish asking the mountain man retrieved the plastic case he carried his bar of soap in and held it out to her, still focused on rummaging around in his pack.

  Kristy accepted it and hurriedly gathered up her clean change of clothes and a wash rag. “Stay with Mr. Miller,” she told Skyler as she started downstream.

  Sure enough, not far away the stream turned and cut deep through a rock formation, creating a secluded little spot. The water had even been partially dammed near the end to make a shallow pool. The sight of it was enough to put a spring in her step, and she wasted no time dropping her stuff on a stone and wading in fully clothed, shoes and all.

  The pool was just deep enough to fully submerge herself, and for a few seconds she simply floated facedown in the relatively cool water, feeling the soreness in her muscles wash away along with the filth on her clothes.

  She'd needed this more than she'd realized.

  Finally Kristy surfaced with a gasp and rolled over onto her back, blinking away water. She wanted to just lay there forever, luxuriating in an escape from the endless dry heat, but after a while she reluctantly waded over to her things and grabbed the soap.

  A half hour later she returned to camp clean and wearing her marginally cleaner change of clothes, her original clothes thoroughly washed and wadded into a sodden bundle in her arms. Her long blond hair was damp and stringy and needed a good brushing, and she was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the night through, but in spite of all that she felt a million times better.

  Skyler was at the stream looking at a lizard sunning itself on a rock, while Tom was seated on a flat stone cutting his hair short with the help of a hand mirror. When he looked up at her approach she stopped dead, jaw dropping.

  For a moment she almost wondered if it was even him, especially now that he was wearing more normal clothes.

  The old mountain man had shaved his entire beard off, showing only a few minor nicks on the pale skin of his cheeks and neck for his efforts. Even more shocking, now that his hair was cut short the heavy peppering of gray seemed to almost vanish from it, leaving it a rich brown color with hints of red and silver gleaming in the sun, the hairline showing almost no signs of receding.

  Either he was remarkably well preserved or he wasn't old at all. In fact, with his unlined skin and slightly angular features he could've been anywhere from his early thirties to a youthful late forties.

  “Wow!” Kristy said before she could stop herself. “You look ten years younger.”

  He gave her a slightly crooked smile before returning his gaze to the mirror, scissors getting back to work. “So what, 36?”

  No way. If that was true then this guy was actually younger than Simon, rather than twenty years older like she'd assumed. In fact, he was less than ten years older than her. It seemed flat out impossible. “That's how old you are?”

  He nodded, wearing an amused expression that not only made him look like the opposite of a doddering old codger, but confirmed that without his wild man's hair he actually wasn't half bad looking.

  Kristy shook her head in disbelief. “Why go to all the effort to look like an old hermit, then?”

  “You've got that backwards,” Tom replied mildly, snipping off another lock. “I didn't go to the effort before because I didn't care how I looked.”

  She felt strangely flattered by that. Sure, on first meeting the man the thought that he might be interested in her enough to take the time to clean himself up for her sake would've been repulsive. She still wasn't sure she liked the idea, although she had to admit the fact that he cleaned up shockingly well certainly helped. “And now you do?”

  His expression became pained, and he focused more intently on the mirror. “The blood may have washed out, but it doesn't feel like it did, if you can understand.”

  Kristy thought she could, and felt ashamed she'd assumed his shave and a haircut was about her. And she definitely approved of it, if for no other reason than now she could stand to look at him.

  With a start she realized how awkward she felt standing there with her hair a ratty mess and holding a bundle of sodden clothes, with no idea what to say or do. After fumbling around for a topic her eyes settled on Skyler, now trying to catch the lizard with a slow moving hand, and she remembered what she'd told him earlier. “Um, I mentioned to my son you might teach him how to shoot one of the guns you took from those bandits.”

  That finally got his full attention, and he slowly lowered the scissors and turned to look at her. She could read his expressions a lot easier now that she could actually see them, which took away a lot of the aura of inscrutability he'd carried.

  Of course, right now his expression was disbelieving. “You want me to teach a nine year old how to shoot an AK-47?”

  She felt her face flushing. “He's almost ten. And his father already showed him a bit with a model .22 rifle he carved from wood.”

  Tom turned back to the mirror, raising the scissors again. “A .22 wouldn't be the worst way to start him off. Or a BB gun. Any of the weapons we've got would be too much.”

  Kristy couldn't really argue with that. “I sort of promised him the second rifle, although I didn't say he could have it right away.”

  “You did, huh . . . meaning you've already claimed the first one?” He narrowed his eyes. “You realize those guns are mine?”

  She felt a surge of annoyance, although it stood to reason he had the best claim to them since he'd killed the bandits who'd previously owned them. Still, it was hard not to feel like everything about the man revolved around what was in it for him. “I assumed you'll let us use them for our own defense until we part ways,” she said coolly.

  “That's reasonable enough.” Tom agreed. He frowned thoughtfully and turned to
look at Skyler, who was now running up the stream bank in pursuit of the fleeing lizard. “I'd be happy to give him some pointers, and about more than just shooting. He could do with some survival skills if we're going to be crossing the badlands with just the three of us.”

  He turned back to give her a solemn look, lowering his voice. “But you should take some time to consider just what it would mean if he knew how to use a gun. How old do you want him to be before he has to face the choice about shooting someone?”

  Kristy had no answer to that; even if it was unrealistic, if she had her way being forced to kill to defend himself was a choice her son would never have to make.

  Taking in her conflicted look, Tom was solemn as he resumed inspecting himself in the mirror, checking his work. “Speaking as someone who knows, killing a man, even for justified reasons, takes a hard toll on you. It's good you want your boy ready to do what it takes to survive in the world, but you'll want to spare him some things for as long as you can.”

  Kristy nodded reluctantly, shaken by the entire conversation. “Here,” she said abruptly, stepping forward and taking the scissors from his hand. “This obviously isn't the first time you've cut your own hair, but it's probably a pain getting the back.”

  “It is,” he agreed, flushing slightly in embarrassment and turning to look straight ahead as she got to work. “I've got a second mirror so I can at least see what I've done, but I have to cut blind back there for the most part. Thanks.”

  “The least I can do,” she murmured, focused on the task. It wasn't much different from when she cut Skyler's hair, actually easier since her son had a tendency to squirm after a few minutes. The mountain man's hair didn't feel as greasy as she'd expected, either, still damp from the wash he'd given it. And in spite of his concerns she didn't see any blood.

  Actually it was a pretty nice head of hair. For a crazy moment she had to stifle an urge to run her fingers through it, then felt a pang of loss when she realized why.