by Nathan Jones
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Anyway after that Tom and I were on our own. We found a community at the edge of the fallout zone that took us in, and settled down there and got married. Started farming, hunting, doing our best to survive. There's not much to say beyond that.”
“Until your husband got radiation poisoning after he scavenged in the fallout zone?”
Kristy grit her teeth, trying not to glare. She didn't recall specifically mentioning that, but it was an easy conclusion to reach given everything else she'd told him. After a few moments she forced her anger down and nodded. “He got sick. I sent Skyler to live with the Hendricksons while I cared for him. After he . . . passed away we joined the convoy to start our new life in Texas.”
Skyler abruptly sniffled, and she turned in surprise to see his eyes were glistening with tears. He immediately bolted away from the fire with a heart wrenching cry of grief.
Kristy hurried after him, leaving Tom staring uncomfortably at the fire. It took a while of poking around in the dark until she found her son curled up behind a boulder, sobbing. She settled down beside him and pulled him into her lap, where he pressed his face against her shoulder, sobs turning into miserable hiccups.
“I know,” she whispered, rubbing his back. “I miss him too.”
He looked up, face a shadow aside from moonlight glistening from his tears. “Not just Dad,” he said. “They killed Brad, and took Lisa and Mr. and Mrs. Hendrickson and Simon! All our neighbors were either killed or taken. We're all alone now.”
Kristy felt a fresh surge of grief for her friends. Up until now shock and the need to keep going had kept her from fully feeling it, but with her son in her arms she gave in to the full force of the emotions. The three people the bandits had murdered had been good people. They hadn't deserved to have their lives so callously snuffed out. And while she hadn't known everyone in the convoy, she'd known most. She shuddered to think of what they were going through now.
How had it all gone so wrong?
She kissed the top of her son's head. “We have each other,” she said gently. “Whatever happens, we'll get through this. We'll be okay.”
They stayed there in the dark for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes before Skyler finally wiped his eyes on his sleeve and hopped off her lap, offering a hand to help her up. They returned to the fire to find Tom gone, probably off patrolling again.
Kristy had meant to talk to the mountain man about taking rotating shifts on watch so he could sleep, or whether they wanted to bother with watches at all with so few people. But she was so tired from the day of pushing the wagon that she decided to save it for morning.
So she tugged her son's hand and started for the tent. “Come on, honey. Time for bed.”
* * * * *
Kristy was scouting with Skyler in the middle of the afternoon the next day, not too long after their midday break to escape the heat, when her son abruptly stiffened, face going pale with fright.
“Do you hear that, Mom?” he hissed urgently.
She froze as well, staring around frantically as she listened hard for what had so alarmed her son. It didn't take long to figure it out; the nearly inaudible throb in the air still appeared in her nightmares since the attack, harbinger of the horrors to come.
Engines. It seemed a bit absurd that something that had been a familiar background for more than half her life could now inspire such terror, but that rumble sent a thrill of dread through her as she pushed Skyler back the way they'd come.
“To the wagon, now!” she hissed urgently, running alongside her son. But after only a few stumbling steps common sense broke through and she skidded to a halt, catching his shoulder to stop him too. As he stared at her in frantic confusion she looked around, squinting into the blinding sunlight.
There was no point running back to the wagon. Tom had been, obviously, sticking to flat, open ground where it was easier to push the heavy weight. He would want to get to the nearest hiding place, and that was where she should take her son.
After she'd warned him, of course.
As Kristy searched around for the most likely spot Tom would make for she hesitantly lifted her fingers to her lips. She'd never tried to make that piercing whistle blast before, but it had seemed fairly straightforward when she'd seen other people do it. Unfortunately the best she could manage was a sort of spluttering exhalation.
Before she could figure it out, assuming she even could without hours of practice and tips on how to do it properly, a shrill whistle from right next to her made her jump. And not just one blast but the proper signal for not only the danger but which direction it was coming from.
She turned to see Skyler lowering his fingers. At her questioning look he shrugged. “Tom showed me how while you were napping earlier.”
Kristy raised an eyebrow. She'd heard the whistles, of course. They'd actually pissed her off because they kept pulling her out of her fitful, heat-induced doze. She just hadn't realized any of those noises had come from her son; as far as she'd known the mountain man was just going over the signals with him again.
Although she was proud that Skyler had picked it up so quickly, it was also a bit embarrassing to now be the only scout who couldn't give a proper signal. Maybe tonight she'd ask Tom to show her how, too, see if she could figure it out.
Assuming they survived that long.
In any case the warning was given and that was what mattered. Kristy grabbed her son's hand again and towed him towards a low shelf of rock north and a bit west of them. It wasn't directly between them and the mountain man, but it was the most likely spot for him to go.
To her relief Tom was there ahead of them, pushing the wagon behind an outcrop. The vehicle swayed alarmingly in his haste, the racks of mostly-dried meat nearly tipping over. Kristy arrived in time to catch them, helping the man get the wagon of sight of the now clearly audible engine noises coming from nearly due south of them.
Now that she could hear them better she could make out two or three individual engines; not nearly the small army that had attacked the convoy, but still more than they could deal with.
“Wait here,” Tom said tersely, snatching his binoculars from Skyler and holding his rifle in one hand. Without waiting for a response he disappeared around the north side of the shelf.
Kristy gathered her son in her arms and settled in next to the wagon, listening as the engine noises grew louder. Then, holding her breath, she realized that the rumble had steadied out and didn't seem to be getting any closer.
It took another ten seconds to confirm that the noises were receding and the vehicles were getting farther away. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and kissed the top of Skyler's head. He twisted to look up at her questioningly, and she grinned and hugged him tight. “They're passing by,” she whispered, even though she probably could've shouted without being heard.
Soon the engine noises were completely gone, even the distant rumble no longer perceptible. Tom came back less than a minute later and Kristy scrambled to her feet to meet him. “What did you see?” she demanded.
“Two side by sides, moving quick,” he replied. “They're gone now . . . I think they were just passing through on their way to somewhere else, or else really lazy scouts.”
Even though she'd pretty much guessed all that Kristy felt some of the tension in her shoulders loosen. “Still, should we be worried that they're so far out here?”
The mountain man was slow to reply, staring in the direction the vehicles had disappeared in. “I sure am,” he finally said in a low voice. “It makes me wonder if Newpost is under attack. Or worse.”
That was the last thing she wanted to consider at the moment. Skyler didn't seem to like it either, staring up at her with worried eyes. “Or it was too tough a nut to crack,” she suggested, “so now they're reduced to wandering through the badlands picking off convoys.” Her son nodded his fervent agreement to that.
“I hope so.” Tom turned back to look at her with h
is piercing gray eyes. “All things considered, we should expect to run into more of these patrols as we get closer to Newpost. You still want to keep going?”
Once again her son turned to look up at her questioningly. Kristy didn't even hesitate, straightening and meeting both their gazes firmly. “Our reasons for going there haven't changed. Besides, we've already driven 45 miles and walked for over two days in this direction. I think it's a little late to think about turning back now.”
The mountain man looked unconvinced. “Never too late,” he grumbled. Then he sighed. “But I suppose you're right. We'll just have to be even more careful going forward.” He held up the wagon's push bar. “Ready to take a turn? I'd like to scout around more thoroughly, see if I can figure out what they were doing in this area.”
Kristy bit back a groan. She was never really ready to haul the heavy wagon, but that didn't change the fact that she needed to pull her own weight. At least as best she could. “We've got it for a bit,” she agreed, resting a hand on Skyler's shoulder.
With no further ceremony they continued on their way.
Chapter Fourteen
Holiday
Over the next week they made slow but steady progress towards Newpost.
They encountered more patrols during that time, but while the deceptively flat terrain of the badlands seemed like it would work against them, the rugged features of the land made it easy to find hiding spots for their small group in plenty of time the moment they heard the sound of engines.
Mostly the patrols seemed to be a few vehicles moving quickly, a clear destination in mind. But occasionally they'd be forced to hide from a larger group with over a dozen vehicles, always accompanied by military trucks.
On the ninth day since the attack on the convoy they reached a large stream, almost a river. The valley it passed through was unexpectedly lush, especially considering the desolate terrain they'd been traveling through for so long, and even though it was still hours to dark Tom decided they'd stop for the night.
“It'll be a good chance to rest up, properly bathe and wash clothes, that sort of thing,” he told Kristy and Skyler, who looked overjoyed at the news of an early camp. The boy was so excited that in spite of his weariness he ran ahead to splash into the river, dunking his head with a gleeful shout. Tom couldn't blame him since the day had been unusually hot, and for the badlands that was saying something.
Kristy looked like she desperately wanted to join her son, although she hung back with Tom as he picked out a campsite and pushed the wagon to it. He wasn't sure if she didn't want to appear undignified or if she'd remembered she had camp duties that night, but either way she looked so doleful it was hard not to smile.
“I'd be happy to switch camp duties with you,” he offered, nodding towards where Skyler was laughing and splashing. “Water looks deep in places, someone should probably stick close to the boy in case he needs help.”
The flaxen-haired woman shot him a grateful look and took off like an arrow, laughing as she kicked off her shoes and waded in after Skyler, who immediately started friendly splash fight with her.
Tom watched them with a slight smile. He had fond memories of swimming with his brother and sister as a kid. Begging their dad to toss them into the center of the pool, and he and Jenn teaming up to try to dunk Nick. And playing Marco Polo with the whole family. Swimming had been one of his favorite things as a kid, and even with the pain of thinking of his family he still indulged in the bittersweet memories of happy times with them.
In another world, if he'd known the young mother and son for longer and been more comfortable with them, Tom would've been tempted to join the fun. Instead he busied himself setting up his tent and then gathered up wood and got to work on the fire.
Before long a refreshed looking Kristy waded out of the river and joined him, sodden clothes clinging to her slender frame in highly distracting ways. Tom felt himself flush and quickly looked away, focusing on the fire.
Which was hard to do when the young woman came over to crouch across from him, wringing the water out of her long blond hair with her hands as she spoke. “You look like you could use a dip too. I can take care of all this if you want to go find a place to properly wash up.”
He kept his eyes on the growing flames in front of him. “That's the plan, but what about you? Figured you'd want to break out the soap, clean your clothes.”
Kristy laughed easily. “Go ahead, there's plenty of time before dark.”
The flaxen-haired woman seemed in a better mood than he'd ever seen her before. Which he supposed was to be expected considering their circumstances. But he had to admit her cheerfulness was infectious, and he found himself returning her smile as he raised his eyes to meet hers. He did it quickly, trying not to notice the way her shirt molded itself to her chest on the way.
“I suppose I will, then,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Well it is my turn for camp duties,” she replied, eyes sparkling. Tom had never really looked into them for longer than a moment before, and now found himself drawn in: they were clear and lively, like looking at a clear blue sky. Beautiful. It seemed incredible she could reflect such joy after everything she'd suffered.
Tom wondered why he couldn't seem to do the same. He broke their gaze, fighting to keep his smile. “Okay then. After that I was thinking I'd take the boy along the creek and see what sort of edible greens we can dig up. Give you some privacy.”
“Great. No rush.” Kristy bent over the fire, feeding it a few sticks.
He hurried to retrieve his soap and change of clothes and started down the river, looking for a secluded spot to wash up. But before going out of view of the campsite he paused for one final look back at the flaxen-haired woman, a bit troubled by his conflicted feelings.
He was attracted to her, of course. He'd have to be blind not to be. And he certainly admired her strength and courage and her fierce commitment to her son. But whenever his mind tried to introduce thoughts of any sort of relationship between them he immediately laughed it off. She was gorgeous, elegant, and probably close to ten years his junior.
And Tom Miller? He was the solitary old mountain man who made women's noses wrinkle in disgust. Sure, he'd been happy to assume that look and hadn't cared too much how people responded to it, but even so years of being viewed that way tended to stick with a guy.
The simple fact of the matter was that it was ludicrous to think a woman like Kristy would ever show the slightest interest in him. Trying to pretend otherwise was just going to lead to pain, and he'd had enough of that in his life.
Better to stomp out such ideas whenever they reared their heads, be content with keeping things amicable until it was time for them to part ways. Content with heading back to his solitary life back in the mountains, with the occasional highlight of a trip to town or a jaunt across the Southwest. Safe and familiar in its dangerous unpredictability.
Shame he wouldn't have time to teach the boy much more than the basics before then, certainly not everything he'd need to survive in the world. But he supposed in Newpost Kristy wouldn't be kept waiting long for suitors happy to do the job.
With those sorts of dour thoughts to keep Tom company the dunk into the relatively cool waters of the river was less enjoyable than he would've liked. He didn't take his time washing up and cleaning his dirty clothes, and before long wandered back into camp to see Kristy had a fire lit and his filled kettle was on the boil for tea.
Speaking of which, he was running out of dried herbs and should probably find more. This was a good area for it; he'd already recognized a few varieties he liked.
“Done swimming?” he called to Skyler, who was still splashing around in the water. The boy looked up in disappointment. “Come on, let's forage up some greens to make tonight's dried meat a bit more interesting.”
Skyler reluctantly waded out of the water. At some point he'd taken off his shoes, but they were still soaked from when he first jumped in. He left wet footsteps behind them as T
om led the way up the riverbank in search of forage, pointing out plants as they went and occasionally pausing to pick something and put it in the cloth bag he'd brought along.
It was actually a bit surprising how little the boy knew about what plants were edible. Sure, he'd grown up in northern Utah rather than in the middle of New Mexico where they were, but at least some of the plants were the same.
Still, with a bit of instruction Skyler was soon busily plucking leaves and stems, digging for roots, and in some cases uprooting whole plants that were entirely edible. All went into the bag to be sorted and washed back at camp.
After about a hundred paces Tom abruptly held a hand out to stop Skyler before he could tromp across a section of loose dirt. “Recognize those?”
The boy barely needed a moment to look at the multiple layers of tracks before nodding. “Rabbits.”
“Right.” Tom pointed along them. “This looks like a run between their warren and the river. Good area for laying snares . . . you know how?”
Skyler shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “I watched my dad lay a couple, but I never really learned how myself.”
“No time like the present.” Tom led the boy carefully along the run to a more ideal spot and showed him how to prepare and set a snare. Then he had his young pupil try himself until he was able to make one that Tom judged wasn't a complete joke.
He had Skyler make a few more, then stood back with a satisfied nod. “Fingers crossed we'll catch something for breakfast.” He motioned to his foraging bag. “In the meantime, back to greens.”
There were far more greens than they'd ever need growing along the bank, and Tom held Skyler off from gathering more than they'd need for one meal. Although he did fill up his herb pouch to dry for tea, and dug up any edible roots they found to take with them.
When they got back to camp Kristy still hadn't returned, so Tom dug out a pan and got to work cutting up roots and chunks of dried meat, adding in some of the savory herbs he'd just picked to make a stew.