Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  Well, he wasn't one to stop a story halfway through. “By the first snow hundreds of our neighbors were dead. All that time people had been noticing that the Mayor, City Council, their deputies, and all their families were looking more well fed than everyone else. There were some families, the ones that'd had a lot of food confiscated and then watched as their loved ones starved to death, who were getting more and more angry about it. Even when the deputies started clamping down on unrest, arresting the most vocal citizens, that just put a tight lid on an ugly mess. Wasn't long after the first snow that it finally boiled over.”

  Tom hesitated, glancing at Skyler, and Kristy had the good sense to cover the boy's ears before he continued. “The deputies went too far quelling a public disturbance in front of city hall, killing several people in front of a crowd of onlookers. That night a mob of townspeople came back, looking ready to tear the Mayor, the council members, and every single deputy limb from limb. A few even wanted to go after their families. It was a bad night, gunshots and screams in the dark, flames going up in a dozen places.”

  He fell silent again, staring at the fire. For a few blessed moments he was left alone with his memories. Then Kristy shifted impatiently, still covering her son's ears. “What happened next?”

  He shrugged. “No idea. That was when I decided enough was enough and headed for the hills.”

  She let it go at that. Tom wasn't sure if it had been enough to satisfy her, or if she'd gotten some warning from his tone, but she pulled her hands away from Skyler's ears and nodded to the steaks. “Those look done.”

  They were, more or less, although so tough each bite took a minute or so of chewing. Tom was hungry enough that he didn't care, and the other two were equally ravenous. They held the blistering hot meat on the skewers with scalded fingers and tore into it with their teeth, barely chewing it enough to swallow while making loud noises of appreciation.

  Everyone ate in silence for several minutes before Kristy finally cleared her throat, sounding hesitant. “Did you ever go back?”

  Tom snorted bitterly. “Couldn't . . . it was within the Utah Valley fallout zone. After the Ultimatum any survivors would've had to leave, too.”

  “Oh. Well what about your family? Were they living there with you?”

  “They were.” Tom abruptly stood up, taking along his skewer which still had more than half the meat on it. “I'm going to go check the perimeter, make sure nobody's sneaking up on us. You should get some rest . . . we're getting an early start in the morning.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Onward

  It was hard for Kristy to return to the convoy and see her possessions and those of her friends scattered haphazardly like so much garbage around the abandoned wagons. Even harder to see was the corpse of the old gelding that had faithfully pulled the Hendricksons' handcart lying where it had been butchered, thankfully one of the few animals Tom hadn't harvested meat from.

  But the hardest sight of all was the canvas tarp covering the bodies of the three people who'd been killed yesterday. Kristy led Skyler over to pay their respects, standing silently for a few minutes. Behind them Tom, obviously eager to get going, did his best to work quietly as he checked over the meat he'd left soaking yesterday so it'd be ready for drying.

  She saw that the mountain man had used several water containers to soak the meat in brine. That effectively rendered them unusable for carrying water again, at least without some serious cleaning. But she supposed there were enough containers scattered around the convoy that it didn't matter if a few were wasted.

  That was probably a good place to start, in fact. With a sigh she took Skyler's hand and turned away from the dead, searching around for full water containers still in good condition after being tossed around.

  Seeing she was done with paying respects, Tom briefly abandoned the meat to come confer with her.

  In the full light of day Kristy had to try even harder not to stare at his face. Even after some time to get used to it, seeing the mountain man without the beard was a shock every time she looked at him. Especially as skin that probably hadn't seen the sun for years went from unexpectedly pale to gradually reddening towards sunburn, in spite of being under the shade of his hat.

  But now that she'd gotten used to the sight she couldn't deny that his face had a sort of rugged handsomeness to it. Lean, solid features, made more intense by his piercing gray eyes. Her thoughts strayed back to the sight of him without his shirt, wiry muscles moving beneath his skin, and her flush deepened until she was sure she must be glowing brighter than his mild sunburn.

  This was stupid. Miles was only a few months in his grave and her previous boyfriend had just been dragged away as a prisoner, and she was already ogling other men? It had to just be the unexpectedness of the sight, the fact that anything was better than how he'd looked before.

  Tom nodded his approval at her work gathering water. “Got enough full containers for three waiting ready under the shade of the oxen wagon, but you're thinking in the right direction.”

  Kristy nodded, somewhere between annoyed and sheepish. Of course the man would've thought of water. “What about our handcart?”

  The mountain man grunted and pointed over to where it lay on its side near the circle. “Intact. Luckily they didn't bother to smash things up much. It's a shame they slaughtered the wagon teams so we can't take one of those, but honestly for three people we don't need that much space anyway.” He paused thoughtfully. “Although it would've been nice to be able to carry extra things you could sell to start your new life.”

  Kristy certainly couldn't argue with that, and was actually gratified to hear him caring about someone besides himself. “We can start loading our handcart while you get the meat drying.”

  The mountain man immediately shook his head. “Like I said, for three people we don't need that much space. That cart of yours was big enough to tote supplies for five people, and you've been struggling to handle it this entire time.” He made his way over to the oxen wagon and pulled another cart into view, one she thought had previously belonged to the Wiltons, a young couple she'd spoken with a few times. “This is more our speed.”

  She looked at it dubiously. Was it? It was barely more than a hand pulled cargo wagon modified with a push bar in front, less than half the size of the Hendricksons' handcart. On the other hand it was a proper wagon with actual rubber tires, made before society collapsed and well maintained. That meant it was much lighter and would probably carry more weight per volume and move more easily than Bob's handcart, which had been made from rusty tire rims and axles stripped from a derelict car with a wooden box built atop them.

  Considering how difficult it had been to move the bigger cart Kristy had to admit she had zero complaints about using this one. And wherever the Wiltons were she hoped they wouldn't mind, either.

  Tom got to work creating makeshift drying racks out of the various debris scattered around the abandoned carts and wagons. With him hard at work Kristy led Skyler from wagon to cart and out among the scattered, windblown possessions, poking around for anything useful.

  Anything light, small, and valuable had already been taken, of course. Kristy was able to find more clothes for herself and her son, and a better tent and some actual sleeping bags. She felt bad looting the possessions of her former friends and neighbors, but consoled herself that this would all eventually get destroyed by the elements after being left out here anyway.

  She did find several books in one of the wagons, math and science textbooks and a few of the classic works of literature. Those seemed too much of a treasure to leave behind, so she loaded them all up in her arms and made her way over to the cart to dump them in.

  Tom watched her do it, and while he didn't object he obviously had reservations. “Don't fill it up too heavy,” he warned as she arranged the books atop their possessions, water tanks, the small amount of food he'd found yesterday, the guns and ammo taken from the bandits, and a few other necessities.


  “It's just a few books,” she said as she shifted things around to protect them from being crushed.

  “That's fine. Just remember you have to push this thing your share of the time.”

  Kristy stopped dead, eyes widening. “Alone?” she said, embarrassed when her voice came out as almost a squeak.

  He gave her a level look, not an ounce of sympathy to be seen in his brooding gray eyes. “We all have to pull our own weight. Which means you'll be pushing the handcart half the time, or for as long as you're able to at a stretch. And scouting the rest of the time.”

  She supposed that wouldn't be impossible, as long as they kept the load light and Skyler helped. Assuming the old taskmaster didn't put him to work, too. But that meant that everything she took beyond what they needed would be making the trip more difficult for her.

  She should've expected that, of course.

  With a sigh Kristy gathered up all the books but the textbooks, which would be too useful for Skyler's education to consider leaving behind, and returned them to the wagon. There she wrapped them up to protect them from the elements, hoping some human scavenger might wander by and discover them before they were completely destroyed.

  They found some more camping gear, a few tools that would doubtless be useful for their new life in Texas, and even a satchel full of assorted vegetable seeds one of her neighbors had brought along for a new garden that the bandits hadn't seemed interested in.

  Unsurprising, since they didn't seem like the planting and toiling type.

  Before long Kristy had the cart loaded to her satisfaction, leaving space for the meat once it finished drying. Tom was still busy with that, and to her surprise she noticed that most of his work involved rigging up a series of racks stacked on top of each other in a way that seemed very space inefficient.

  “What're you doing?” she asked.

  The mountain man looked up, squinting into the sun. “Meat takes days to dry. I don't want to wait that long, so I'm rigging this up to take with us.”

  She blinked. “How, exactly?” She waved at the four wheeler and the cart. “For that matter, how are we going to bring that along with us when we drive off?”

  “You'll see.” He wiggled the racks to test them. “Give me a hand with this.”

  Kristy and Skyler helped him secure the stack of racks onto the top of the cargo wagon, then another set of racks onto the back of the four wheeler. After a bit of testing to make sure they'd handle minor bumps and jolts without breaking apart Tom announced them good.

  Then came the less than delightful task of pulling the long, slimy strips of raw meat from the brine tanks and stretching them across the racks, tying them at either end to keep them from falling off. Kristy told herself this meat would keep them alive in the coming weeks, and anyway this job was less unpleasant than the work Tom had done yesterday butchering the animals.

  Even so she was relieved when it was done, and Tom and Skyler finished tying cloth over the racks to protect the meat from dust as they traveled.

  For the last step the mountain man got to work fixing the wagon's push bar to the back of the ATV. “We'll have to travel slower than I'd like with this setup,” he admitted, “and keep to smooth terrain. Even so this should take days off our trip, maybe as much as a week if we're lucky.”

  Kristy certainly approved of that. “We're ready to go, then?” If so she was surprised by how quickly they'd finished preparing, since the sun was still low over the eastern horizon and they couldn't have been here for much more than an hour.

  Tom paused to look at her. “Unless you can think of anything else we need to do here.”

  It was a sincere question, not a sarcastic comeback, and Kristy took a moment to think it through. Then she shook her head. “Let's go.”

  With a nod the mountain man finished securing the push bar, double checked all their gear, the ATV's and wagon's wheels, and their improvised racks, then started the vehicle and hopped on.

  Kristy helped Skyler up to his usual seat and climbed on in front of him, trying to ignore her discomfort as she put her arms around Tom's waist. Same as she'd felt on the earlier ride to the convoy just before sunrise. In a way she'd almost preferred it when he'd been a blood-soaked, hairy horror. At least then she could feel unambiguously disgusted by touching him.

  Now, however, she couldn't help but see him as a reasonably nice looking man, which made it harder not to notice how solid his muscles felt. As if nothing could budge him. The thought sent a flush of embarrassment through her; aside from her grieving session with Simon a few nights ago she hadn't been this close to a man since Miles died. It made her feel awkward and a bit guilty even though the contact was purely innocent.

  Thankfully as they got started Skyler put his arms around her and rested his head on her back, distracting her from the sensation.

  True to his word the mountain man kept the four wheeler to a reasonable speed, 25 miles an hour at the most as best she could judge. The trip was a far cry from their hair-raising escape during the attack, or even the more subdued trips to and from the campsite. They even had to stop a few times to adjust the racks, and once when the push bar nearly came loose and had to be retied.

  Which wasn't to say there wasn't at least a bit of worry. Kristy spent most of the time straining to hear over the noise of the ATV's engine, searching for the sound of other engines in the distance coming towards them that would signal the return of the bandits. Her eyes also constantly strayed south, checking the horizon for the glint of sun on glass or metal.

  And she wasn't the only one; although he was focused on driving Tom's head constantly swiveled from side to side, eyes squinting into the hazy distance. Even Skyler constantly shifted behind her to peer over her shoulders, and a few times anxiously asked questions like “Did you hear that?” and “What's that over there?”

  In spite of the slow pace and infrequent stops the trip was, unfortunately, all too short. They'd only been driving a few hours, the sun still nowhere close to noon, when the engine began sputtering to signal they were out of gas. Tom slowed down but kept them moving, doing his best to eke out as much distance with their remaining fuel as possible, but in less than a minute the ATV died entirely. He was able to start it up again and got them another twenty feet, but then it died for the last time.

  After a few halfhearted yanks on the cord the mountain man shrugged and hopped off. “Well, that's that,” he said. With no more ceremony than that he got to work untying the wagon.

  Kristy climbed off as well, helping her son down. Skyler stayed by her side, but rather than watching the man work he stared sadly at the useless four wheeler. “What's going to happen to it?”

  Tom shrugged. “It'll last longer in this arid climate than it might otherwise, but before too long it'll just be a rusted heap of junk with flat tires and a gummed up engine.”

  Her son kicked a tire in disappointment. “I wish we had more gas. Riding it was fun.”

  That was true enough; in spite of the awkwardness of sitting behind a strange man Kristy had actually had a blast feeling like she was back in the world before the Ultimatum for a couple hours.

  If Tom felt the same he didn't show it, keeping his tone pragmatic. “More importantly, it hauled the weight of the wagon and carried us ten to twenty times faster than we could move without it. We'll all be missing it for more than just being a fun ride before long.”

  Spoilsport, Kristy thought. “How far do you think we managed to travel?”

  The mountain man finished untying the wagon and pulled it free of the abandoned four wheeler, testing its wheels to make sure they hadn't been damaged on the trip. “Forty, maybe forty-five miles,” he said, all his focus on the wagon.

  Kristy whistled in spite of herself. That was three and a half to four days off their trip in two hours. Not as much as she would've preferred, but definitely something to appreciate.

  “Skyler, honey, give me a hand with this,” she said, opening up one of the ATV's cargo compar
tments and emptying it out into the wagon. Her son got to work emptying another compartment, while Tom busied himself unfastening the rack he'd attached to the vehicle and fixing it to the back of the wagon.

  Then, since the day was certainly hot enough, he pulled the protective cloths off the racks to expose the strips of meat to the sun so they could begin drying. “Try not to kick up too much dust as you pull the wagon,” he told Kristy. “I like my jerky grit-free.”

  She snorted in agreement, then paused. “Wait, as I pull?”

  The mountain man nodded as he got to work untying his pack from the ATV and putting it on. “If you've got the cart on your own for a bit I thought I'd scout ahead with the boy, show him what to look out for when he's scouting.”

  “Is that safe?” she asked.

  He scratched at his slightly sunburned chin. “There's plenty of dangers in the badlands, but he's got to learn them some time. I'll show him what to look out for when it comes to that, too.”

  Kristy was torn. She'd been counting on her son to help her push the cart, and to be fair he probably would be more often than not. But at the same time she couldn't fault the mountain man's reasoning, since right as they started off was a good time to find out if she could manage the cart on her own for any amount of time. If she couldn't they were going to have to shed weight off it.

  Somehow.

  Tom shifted, and she had a feeling he was getting ready to explain his reasoning. Before he could Kristy nodded and took her place in front of the cart, picking up the push bar. “Please try to stay in sight while he's with you.”

  He hesitated, looking about to argue, then shrugged again and motioned to Skyler. “All right, kid, let's go.”

  Skyler glanced back at her questioningly, and she nodded her encouragement as she got to work pushing the wagon. It was heavy, as she'd expected, but not as bad as she'd feared. Certainly not as bad as the Hendricksons' handcart. She thought she could manage it for a few hours, at least, before she'd need Skyler's help or Tom would need to spell her.