Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  Tom would be well aware of how much they needed him, and he was a good person. After a day to cool off he'd come back and help them. Things might be frosty between them when he did, maybe for good, but he wouldn't just turn his back on them.

  An abrupt sharp crack off in the trees suddenly drew her attention, and beside her Skyler stiffened. “Mom!” he hissed.

  Kristy stood, staring into the darkness. She'd picked a little hollow at the base of the hill for their campsite, with a small stream running past and a surprisingly dense stand of evergreens that straddled the line between being a tree and a bush, big and round and squat and providing good cover.

  That had to be Tom out there, right? He likely hadn't gone far, wanting to stay close enough he could help them if they needed it, but staying out of sight because he wasn't ready to talk yet. It was definitely him, creeping along silently in the darkness and accidentally snapping branches, right? If it was enemy soldiers they'd be in their vehicles and she'd hear them coming from a mile off.

  It was Tom. She knew it.

  She kept squinting through the trees, and was surprised at the relief she felt when a figure appeared at the edge of the firelight. Tom had come back after all, even after what she'd said to him. She'd have a chance to apologize, to tell him she had no right to judge him for refusing her unreasonable demand, especially after everything he'd done for them.

  Maybe she'd even dredge up the courage to tell him how she felt about him, what she was starting to feel for him. Assuming she could even figure that out amidst the confused jumble of emotions she was dealing with right now.

  But Kristy's relief swiftly faded as a second figure appeared behind the first. With mounting horror she realized it wasn't Tom at all.

  The nearest man paused when he realized she'd seen him, then turned and said something to his companion in Spanish. Tom had said the bandits who attacked the convoy spoke Portuguese and the two languages sounded similar, but thanks to his lessons she knew enough to recognize the language, and a bit of what they were saying.

  A lot of the words were ones he hadn't taught her, probably because they didn't sound particularly flattering. But she caught enough for her skin to crawl in horror as both laughed and continued forward with the lazy grace of hunting cats. And even if she didn't know what they were saying, Kristy understood the hungry expression on their faces and the cruel gleam in their eyes all too well. Dread mingled with despair in her gut until she thought she'd sick up.

  She forced herself to move, diving for the wagon. “Run, Skyler!” she screamed as she reached for her AK-47. She should've kept it with her the way Tom was always insisting she should; just another mistake to regret.

  From the corner of her eye she saw her son disappear into the trees on the opposite side of the camp and felt a surge of relief that he'd listened to her.

  Kristy was only steps away from the wagon and she'd moved as quickly as she could, but even so the bandits were faster. They closed the distance almost before she realized they were moving, reaching her as she scrabbled around at the junk piled on top of the wagon trying to get at the rifles underneath.

  One caught her around the waist and pulled her away with a contemptuous laugh, easily trapping her arms when she twisted and tried to hit him. Within moments Kristy was pinned against the man, helpless. She tried to scream again, and with an annoyed grunt her captor butted his forehead into her mouth, stunning her into silence with her lips and teeth throbbing dull agony and the sensation of blood trickling down her chin.

  She could only shudder with revulsion and dread as he shifted the hand around her waist to grope at her, breath stinking as he panted into her face while hissing taunts at her that she couldn't understand. More words and phrases too ugly for Tom to have taught in his lessons.

  Although Kristy was sure she had a good idea of what he was saying, and despair threatened to overwhelm her at the prospect of what she was about to suffer. Her only consolation was that Skyler had listened to her and was nowhere to be seen; whatever happened to her, at least her son would be safe.

  The other soldier casually fished the AK-47s out of the cart, eyes narrowing in recognition as he looked them over. He asked her a harsh question, shaking one of the rifles at her. Kristy could only stare at him helplessly, at least until the man holding her turned his groping into a cruel pinch that tore a yelp from her throat.

  Where was Tom? She knew they'd parted ways over half a day ago, and not on the best of terms, but she still half thought he'd be lurking around somewhere. After all, with Newpost taken where could he go? Not back to Grand Junction already, surely? Not without them.

  When he'd walked away Kristy had shouted after him that she never wanted to see him again, but he had to realize she hadn't meant that. She couldn't think of anyone she wanted to see more, aside from maybe Miles miraculously back from the grave.

  But from the looks of it neither of them were coming to her rescue. The man holding the guns got tired of waiting for her to answer and shrugged, tossing them back into the cart. Then he stepped closer, expression eager as he motioned for his companion to turn her around to face him.

  As soon as she had a clear shot Kristy kicked at him, trying to get him between the legs. But he just twisted aside with a mocking laugh. Before she could try again his fist connected solidly with her stomach, doubling her over as the air exploded out of her in a strangled grunt.

  For a few terrifying seconds she couldn't breathe, and when she finally managed to suck in a breath she was so focused on it she barely noticed as her attacker fumbled to unbutton her jeans. When it registered all she could do was kick weakly, which he easily worked around.

  As her attacker got her pants unzipped and started to pull them down she sobbed in despair and looked away, struggles growing frantic but still not enough. Then her eyes searching the darkness abruptly focused, and she felt an equal surge of hope and dread when she recognized the small form standing at the edge of the firelight.

  Skyler hadn't run away after all. Instead he'd snuck around to the other side of the wagon and now held one of the AK-47s in trembling hands, lifting it to firing position with obvious effort.

  Kristy pled with her eyes, not sure if she was urging him to get away while he still could or to save her from what she was about to suffer. Tom had done a good job teaching her son how to shoot the weapon, but even so he'd only ever fired that one shot and nearly dropped the gun from the recoil.

  She prayed he did better this time. As he got ready to shoot Skyler's mouth worked silently, repeating a word over and over again. It wasn't until his finger dropped down to rest on the trigger that Kristy realized her son was saying, “Duck!”

  She wasn't sure she could, held as she was. But in a surge of desperation she went completely limp and twisted violently out of her captor's firm grip. Her dead weight tore her the rest of the way free and she dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, both men cursing angrily as they reached for her.

  Less than a second later her ears rang with the deafening retort of gunshots. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Skyler struggling to keep his grip on the rifle as it bucked in his hands, bullets spraying out into the night.

  Then a heavy weight fell across her, forcing a grunt from her lungs. Kristy desperately kicked free and scrambled away, and as soon as she began moving Skyler stopped shooting, dropping the gun at his feet and staring at his trembling hands in shock.

  She awkwardly buttoned her jeans as she hobbled over to her son and crouched to pick up the weapon, whirling to point it at her attackers. One man was obviously dead or dying, unmoving with the dry ground beneath him soaking up blood from several gunshot wounds. The other moaned and clutched at his bleeding leg while staring at Skyler with pure hatred. His other hand crept towards his hip and the pistol holstered there.

  Kristy emptied the rest of the AK-47's magazine into him.

  As soon as the hammer clicked on an empty chamber she copied her son in dropping the rifle, t
urning to fold Skyler in a fierce hug as her legs gave out from under her and she sank to the ground weakly.

  He clutched her back, shaking, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. “Are you all right, Mom?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

  Kristy held her son's head tight to her shoulder and rubbed his back soothingly. “I'm fine, sweetie,” she said, words coming out thick and clumsy through her swollen lips. “We're both fine. We're fine.”

  Skyler didn't seem to hear her. “I know you told me not to touch the guns, not unless I was with Tom. But they were hurting you. I didn't know what to do!”

  “Shh,” she said, holding him closer. “You did what you had to. You did great.”

  Her son fell silent, although he continued to shudder as she rubbed his back and murmured soothingly in his ear. After almost a minute, though, Kristy regretfully pulled back. “We have to go. If anyone heard those gunshots it won't be safe here anymore.”

  Skyler followed her as she stood and made her way over to the tent, hastily collapsing it and tossing it into the wagon in a mess. “What about Tom?”

  For some reason the question sparked a surge of fury in Kristy. She'd been expecting the mountain man to save them, but instead her son had been forced to take his first life just weeks shy of his tenth birthday. And if Skyler hadn't been able to she would've been raped and dragged back to Newpost as a slave, at best leaving her son alone to fend for himself in the badlands and at worse seeing him also enslaved and taken by the soldiers.

  “If he wants to find us he will,” she snapped, stomping over to kick out the fire. She quickly regretted doing so when she was forced to stumble around blindly as she packed up the rest of their things.

  Her son was already holding the wagon's push bar, straining to move it by himself and breath coming in panting, terrified gasps. Kristy paused in joining him, stomach twisting in revulsion as she made her way over to the dead soldiers and quickly searched them, taking their two rifles, the one soldier's pistol, the spare magazines, and the few other small, useful items she found. Her skin crawled at the tacky feel of blood on everything, but that didn't stop her from dumping it all on top of their tent and other things.

  Then she got behind the wagon and shoved it forward. She didn't have any plan for where they would go, her goal was just to get them as far from here as possible until she was sure it was safe. But she did keep her wits about her enough to head northwest, away from Newpost.

  She hoped she never saw the cursed place again.

  * * * * *

  Tom had decided to go back to Kristy and Skyler in the morning.

  No, he wasn't about to forget that she'd broken her promise to him, especially since she'd used his family to try to shame him into doing what she wanted after he'd trusted her enough to open up about them. That was something he couldn't forget.

  But at the same time he also wasn't about to leave a young woman and child a stone's throw from a group of the vilest men he'd ever encountered.

  So come morning he'd convince Kristy to finally turn back for Grand Junction. He'd find some way to get them there, even low on supplies and deep in occupied territory as they were. And then once there he'd wash his hands of the pair and go home, get back to his life.

  It was a shame, though. He was genuinely fond of the boy, and he had to admit he'd been growing fond of Kristy as well. In his more whimsical moments he'd even allowed himself to entertain the notion that there might be something there. That he might find something with her that he'd almost given up hope for after solitary years up in the mountains.

  But it was what it was. She'd broken her promise, used his oldest and most painful wound to cut him deep. Maybe in time he could forgive her, considering the desperation she'd been feeling at witnessing the plight of her friends, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust her again.

  Until then he should get what sleep he could. He'd done a patrol around Kristy and Skyler's camp earlier, before it had gotten too dark to see, and confirmed there were no threats nearby. Then he'd waited until after they had their fire lit and confirmed that it was mostly hidden from view unless you were approaching from the northeast, which didn't seem likely since the Amarillo fallout zone was in that direction.

  Once finished with those precautions he'd hiked until he found his own spot to camp, which wasn't nearly as nice but had the benefit of being nowhere near Kristy; while scouting and checking the fire he'd had a hard time even looking at her, given the bitter surge of emotions the sight of her caused.

  He dreaded having to go back in the morning and face the woman. Even if she'd been in the wrong, even if she and the boy needed him, it was going to be hard to be around her without thinking of broken promises and harsh words.

  Tom was rolled up in his blankets, chewing a last bit of gristle from the desert hare he'd snared earlier, when an alarmed scream pierced the night. And while he'd never heard her scream before he'd recognize Kristy's voice anywhere.

  He lurched to his feet with a curse and sprinted towards the young mother and child's camp, barely pausing to snatch up his rifle as he went. Most of those curses were directed at himself.

  He should've stuck a bit closer! Even if her unfair judgment of him had cut deep, that was no excuse to leave her and the boy alone only miles from a trading post held by soldiers who'd already murdered who knew how many people and enslaved countless more. Was he really so pathetic that being unable to look at the woman was a good enough reason to leave her unprotected?

  With a low growl he sped up, stumbling over unseen obstacles and knowing he risked tripping and injuring himself at any moment. Was he too late? Was he going to reach their camp to find the boy and Kristy taken, who knew what horrors awaiting them?

  He'd just reached the edge of the stand of evergreens around the camp when the rattle of an automatic weapon firing made him dive to the ground. After a second or two to make sure he wasn't the target he began creeping cautiously forward, only to duck again when he heard another burst of weapons fire.

  In the deafening silence that followed he heard the soft murmur of voices, and felt a surge of relief when he recognized them as Kristy and Skyler. He crept close enough to see the young mother and son huddled together near the wagon, while not far away two dead soldiers were sprawled in pools of blood.

  In spite of the situation he felt a flash of pride that the young mother and her son had managed to handle themselves without him. It didn't lessen his guilt any, but he was glad he hadn't been needed even though he should've been here to protect the two.

  As the two comforted each other Tom hesitated at the edge of the camp. He almost went to them, confirmed for himself that they were okay and reassured them that he was there and he wouldn't fail them again. But as he started to take the first step he heard again the venomous words Kristy had shouted at his back.

  Although he knew it was irrational he half feared that if he stepped into the camp he'd find himself hit by another torrent of abuse from the young woman. He just couldn't bring himself to face that, face her, even now.

  So instead he stayed hidden and watched as they packed up their things, put out the fire, looted the two soldiers, and dragged the wagon off. Once they were gone he did his best to hide the bodies and cover up the blood and other evidence of what had happened in case more soldiers came.

  Then he tracked the young mother and son, following until they'd set up a new campsite in a safer location a few miles farther away from Newpost, bedding down without bothering with the tent or even a fire. Which was probably a wise decision. He also noticed with approval that Kristy lay on her blankets with one of the AK-47s in easy reach, although from the looks of her tossing and turning he guessed the terror of her recent experience was keeping her from sleep.

  Well, she could rest easy now; alert and weapon ready, Tom began to patrol around the camp, resolving not to stop until dawn.

  And as soon as Kristy and Skyler were awake, he was going to convince them to head back
to Grand Junction with him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Convoy

  Kristy woke with a sudden gasp of fear at the realization she was being held, her frantic mind revisiting last night's terrifying events.

  Thankfully she resisted the urge to thrash long enough to realize that it wasn't some faceless attacker but her son cuddled up to her. He'd been too frightened to sleep on his own, even if she wanted to try to figure out how to set up their tents in the dark. And anyway she'd wanted to keep him close so she could reassure herself he was safe.

  So they'd both slept under the stars.

  With a soft groan she eased away from him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly when he made a sleepy sound of distress. Exhausted and unpleasantly starting to remember all the problems they now faced, she squinted around at the makeshift campsite she'd chosen. The sun was already its own length over the eastern horizon, shining so brightly it was a wonder she'd managed to stay asleep so long.

  Although Kristy certainly wasn't happy about the amount of rest she'd managed after she'd finally calmed down from the terror of last night's attack enough to fall asleep. And not because it was still too little; she'd intended to wake up at the crack of dawn so she could guard the camp against any more interlopers, but apparently exhaustion had overcome resolve.

  Cursing herself quietly and grateful she and her son hadn't both suffered for her lapse, she stumbled to her feet and picked up the rifle she'd kept close so she could do a quick circuit of the camp.

  Which is why she almost immediately spotted the large words scraped into the dirt a stone's throw away, a brief message from the long absent mountain man:

  “Checking Newpost one last time. Figure when I get back we'll start for Grand Junction. Stay put.

  Tom.”

  The terse words made her scowl. Was he even aware that she and Skyler had been attacked last night? And he just assumed she'd go along with him back to Grand Junction without even asking?