The Wastelanders

by K. S. Merbeth

  But people look at Jed like he’s a torch in the darkness. They listen to every word he says, laugh at every joke out of his mouth—some of which are definitely not funny. The men trust him easily, and the women blush when he looks at them. It’s puzzling, and a bit aggravating, especially when I know his father’s legacy. Jed’s skills with both guns and people must have come from him, I realize. It’s a disquieting thought. And I think I’m beginning to see how Jedediah Johnson came into power.

  Later, when most of the townies have dispersed and we’ve finally managed to get someone’s attention for long enough to ask about a place to stay, we leave the saloon. Jed is cheerful, still humming his song under his breath, though I don’t understand how he has any energy at all left after the events of today. He follows as I trudge ahead, finding the building on the outskirts of town. It must be the living quarters for the townies as well, because we pass several others headed to bed, many of whom greet Jed as they recognize him. I ignore them and follow the directions we were given to a room in the back corner.

  We step inside, shutting the door behind us—and thankfully it has an actual, functional door—and Jed raises the lantern we were given to get a better look at the place. It’s a dim room, with a single window that’s been boarded up, bare except for a single cot in one corner.

  “Wow,” I say. “They actually gave us a cot. With a blanket and everything.” It’s more generosity than I’m used to getting, though I’m sure it has more to do with Jed than with me. Still, Jed immediately finds a spot against the wall near the foot of the cot, leaving it to me without a moment’s hesitation.

  I inspect the cot for any overly concerning stains or marks and, finding nothing, lower myself onto it. My body creaks as I stretch out, and I sigh with relief, pulling the blanket over me.

  I know I should just try to get some sleep, but while my body is exhausted, my mind is a-whir with the events of the day. After a few minutes of tossing and turning and attempting to sleep, curiosity gets the better of me.

  “So where did you learn that?” I ask, staring up at the ceiling.

  “What?” Jed asks from the foot of the cot, his voice groggy and half-asleep.

  “Music,” I say. “I’ve only known a couple of people who could play it, and they learned it before.” Before the bombs, when people had all the time in the world to spend on silly things like that.

  There’s a moment’s pause. Jed sits up and scoots closer, all hints of sleepiness gone.

  “Clementine?” he asks, his voice far too excited. “You’re asking about me? A personal question? You want to get to know me?”

  “Jed—”

  “This is it,” he gushes, his eyes sparkling. “A bonding moment. It’s finally happening. You. And me. Forming a lasting friendship.”

  Noticing that he’s scooting a little too close for comfort, I sit up and shove him. He falls back with a thud and immediately scrambles up again, sitting cross-legged just beyond the foot of the cot.

  “Forget I asked,” I say, rolling my eyes, and fighting back embarrassment because he’s right—I did want to know more about him. Because, while Jed is strange and difficult to understand and frequently irritating, I can’t help but find him interesting. I want to figure him out, though I’d be hard-pressed to explain why that is.

  But, as earnest as he seems, I’m guessing that obnoxious response was his own crazy way of derailing the conversation and brushing me off. I guess he doesn’t want to tell me the truth, which is fine. It was probably a mistake to bring it up. We’re together out of necessity, not anything else; I can’t let myself forget that. Jed may be friendly toward me, but he’s friendly to anyone. It was stupid to think there was any other reason for it. I pull my blanket tighter around myself and try to get comfortable again. But just when I think Jed is about to go back to sleep, he speaks up again.

  “My mom taught me,” he says. He speaks quietly now, the over-the-top excited act totally gone. I pause, letting the words sink in, and resume curling myself up in a nest on my cot. Clearly, the question was even more personal than I intended it to be. “She taught me when I was a kid. Before she, uh, died.”

  “I see.” No point in expressing condolences. It sounds like it happened a long time ago, and anyway, it isn’t anything special to lose one’s parents. Pretty much everyone’s parents are dead at this point; it’s just a fact of life. The wastelands aren’t a place where people lead long, healthy lives.

  “Was killed, I mean,” Jed says. “By my dad. My dad killed her. When I was a kid.”

  “Oh.” Now that is a more unique scenario, and I’m feeling even more deeply uncomfortable. It’s been years since I had a conversation this personal, and I don’t think I ever really mastered how to handle them. Again, speaking condolences seems wrong, but what else can I say? We both fall silent, the only sound our breathing in the dark room. After a moment, barely even knowing what I’m doing, I sit up and reach out to him. My hand finds one of his, and I squeeze it briefly. When I try to pull back, Jed holds on to me.

  “Clementine,” he says quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “I have to confess something,” he says. I stay silent, still gripping his hand, all too aware of the small amount of space between us. “I got caught on purpose.”

  “What?” It takes me a few moments to realize what he’s talking about. We’ve been through so much at this point that the start of our journey seems impossibly long ago.

  “I could’ve called for a guard. There was one right down the hall,” he says. “And I could’ve told you I wasn’t who you thought I was too. But I didn’t.”

  “Why?” Again, with him, the eternal “why.” Why would he do that? Why is he telling me? Why now?

  “Because I couldn’t stand being there any longer,” he says. “And I don’t want to go back now.” He loops his fingers through mine, squeezes more tightly. “Can I stay with you?”

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been asked something like that. A long time since I kept company that wasn’t for necessity or profit. I was half-convinced nobody ever would again after I lost my home. I’m not sure how to react to it now. I open and shut my mouth a couple times, trying to come up with an answer, and de-tangle my fingers from his.

  “Let’s just worry about surviving for now,” I say finally. “We’ll work the rest out later.”

  “Okay,” he says, his tone hard to read. He curls up on the floor again, his head resting on the edge of the cot now. I sigh quietly, and after a moment, I lie back and try to sleep.

  XV

  Preparations

  I wake to the sound of shouting. I jolt upright, untangling myself from my blanket and standing up. The commotion is coming from outside, not within our room, so the danger isn’t immediate … and it’s lucky that’s the case, because Jed hasn’t moved an inch. I stare down at him, still fast asleep despite my movement and all the noise outside, and wonder how the hell he’s managed to survive for this long.

  He finally wakes up when I kick him, and blinks at me from the floor.

  “What is … What? Is something happening?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. I ignore him and go to grab my gun from its holster, only to realize that it’s empty. No guns, not even a knife; the townies stripped us bare and helpless when we walked into town.

  “Damn it,” I say, looking down at a still-groggy Jed. For a moment I feel a flicker of discomfort, remembering our way-too-personal conversation last night, but I stifle it. There’s no time to dwell on that. I grab him by the arm and haul him to his feet, pulling him toward the door without giving him a chance to protest. “C’mon, Jed. Time to be useful again.”

  By the time we’ve left our room, the chaos has died down somewhat. A handful of townies are still running around, moving supplies and checking defenses, but the majority of them have already taken their places on the wall. From the way they’re talking and moving, it’s easy to guess what caused the ruckus: The raiders are coming.
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br />   Despite the still-obvious fear, the townies seem to know what they’re doing. They have a strong front line, some good vantage points, even a couple snipers set up on the rooftops. The elderly and children hover just behind the fighting folk, carrying ammo, water, and first aid supplies. They’re preparing themselves for a long siege.

  It’s far more organized than I would’ve expected from a shitty little western town. Jed and I exchange a glance as we head to the wall, and I imagine he’s thinking the same thing I am: Is it possible these townies actually stand a chance?

  As much as I want to charge in and demand my guns, I hang back as Jed goes to talk to one of the town’s council members. After a few minutes of conversation, Jed shoots me an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up before disappearing with the man. A few minutes later, he returns with our weapons.

  The moment I see the bag, I’m itching to have my hands on it and fill the hole its absence left. I suppress the urge to run over and rip it out of Jed’s grasp. The townies already eye me like they think I might be a mass murderer on the verge of snapping. It won’t help my case if I act like a psycho who’s in love with her guns, whether or not that may be true. Still, when Jed hands over the bag, and I find my pistol sitting right on top, I hold it to my chest like a long-lost child.

  “Gee, thanks, Jed,” Jed says, after a moment or two of me cradling the gun. “Good work, buddy. I like you at least half as much as I like my guns. Maybe one day it will be three-quarters as much.”

  I smirk and tuck the gun into its holster.

  “Never gonna happen,” I say, grabbing my knife and slipping it into its strap on my leg. I’m about to sling the assault rifle over my shoulder, but pause, hesitating briefly before handing it to Jed. His jaw drops.

  “You’re giving me the big gun?” he asks, hugging the weapon against him. I eye it in his hands, wondering if I’ve made a mistake.

  “You know how to use it?”

  “Of course I do!” He shifts the gun so he’s holding it properly, and turns in a quick half circle, making sound effects under his breath as he pretends to fire at invisible enemies. I watch him warily, but despite the ridiculous attitude, it does look like he knows what he’s doing. I nod at him, sling the now-mostly-empty weapons bag over my shoulder, and head to the wall. I find one of the council members nearby, the older woman. Relief flickers across her face when she sees us. Guess she thought we were going to take off, which isn’t an unreasonable concern. I’m still not convinced that staying is the best option, but it’s a little late now.

  “Glad to see you two,” she says, and gestures to the wall. “You can take a place on any of the towers, or wherever else. I’ll trust your judgment.”

  I nod to the councilwoman, Jed shoots her an obnoxiously over-the-top salute, and the two of us head to a nearby watchtower. From there, we should have a good view of the front gate, the direction the raiders will be coming from. I climb the ladder propped up to allow access, and Jed follows close on my heels.

  The townies already waiting in the tower are all smiles once they see us and the guns in our hands. Jed strikes up a conversation with the man to our left, but I stay silent, busying myself with checking my ammo supply. It’s wearing thin. I’ll have to make sure every bullet is worth it.

  I look up again only when I hear a gasp beside me—a gasp quickly joined by a surge of murmurs and whispers from the townies, which then dies down to a total, complete silence. My eyes find the horizon.

  They’re here.

  XVI

  The Fight for Fort Cain

  The raider mob is even bigger than I remember. For one moment of pure terror I wonder if their numbers have grown—but that’s impossible. If anything they must have lost men, between the assaults on previous towns, the long trek across the wastes, and the fights that surely broke out among them, but it doesn’t seem that way.

  They don’t shout and jeer and tussle among themselves as they approach the town. They’re not treating it like a game this time. I wonder if they’ve grown, become more organized … But when I get a better look at them, it’s easy to see the truth: They’re getting desperate. They can’t have looted much of value from the Nameless Town, or any other small groups they came across. After traveling all this way, they must be tired, hungry, thirsty. I’m not sure if the raids before were out of necessity, or fun, or just a general sense of sticking with their vicious way of life, but now they need supplies if they’re going to survive. They’ve already come so far, and it’s a long journey to the next town worth looting.

  I steal a glance at the townies on either side of me, wondering how they’ll fare now that they’ve seen what they’re up against. Their faces are grim, but not terrified. This isn’t like the Nameless Town. These people may be afraid, but they’re not helpless, and they certainly haven’t given up. I can feel their determination, even the most nervous of the townies steeling themselves as they see the raiders approaching. They stay in position along the wall, weapons at the ready. Not a single one of them turns and flees in the face of the approaching enemies. No one breaks down or breaks rank. They’re ready to fight, no matter what the odds may be.

  A townie fires off the first bullet, the sound of a gunshot ringing across the quiet space between the raiders and the town. It goes wild, sinking into the sand, but the sound of gunfire incites both sides to a frenzy. More shots ring out, and a shout goes up from the raiders. The mob breaks into a run, swiftly closing the distance to the wall. Hands and weapons batter at the front gate. The metal shudders and screeches but holds firm, not showing any sign of weakening. Other raiders, seeing the futility, start hoisting one another up to scale the wall.

  The council members, spread out along the wall, shout out orders and targets, prioritizing the biggest threats: raiders with guns, or those nearing the top of the wall. Most of the townies are pretty shit with their weapons, but each target goes down eventually. I follow orders as well, taking down raiders as I’m told, counting down bullets in my head.

  Amazingly, the townies actually seem to have the advantage here. The wall is holding, and so is the front gate, and between the two, the raiders have no way of getting inside. Townies fall here and there, taken down by well-placed shots, but most of the raiders don’t have guns, and anyone who doesn’t is entirely useless in this fight. Soon enough, the raiders are forced to retreat. They seem baffled by the turn of events, looking at one another with uncertainty. There’s no organization among them, no one shouting orders for anyone other than their individual crews. They’re starting to fall apart. Some crews fall back, and others run forward, indecision ripping their ranks apart.

  Maybe this place really can win, or at least hold out long enough that the raiders will lose interest and find easier prey. I turn, opening my mouth to comment to Jed, and pause. He’s gone.

  “Jed?” I ask, looking one way and the other, unable to find him anywhere. “What the hell?” Frowning, I holster my gun and head for the ladder, dropping down to the ground below. Where the hell could he have gotten to? Why would he have left without telling me?

  The ground level of town is quiet and mostly empty, and Jed is still nowhere to be found. I search the area with a growing confusion. Finally, I spot him running toward me from the heart of town. He skids to a stop in front of me, panting for breath and red in the face.

  “Where the fuck were you?” I snap, my worry quickly turning to annoyance now that I see him safe. He leans over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

  “Danger,” he says between gasps for air. “I saw some raiders sneaking around back and … We need to move … Need to—”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, frowning. Of course there’s danger, but as far as I could tell, the townies are holding up pretty well. “What’s—”

  Then I smell the smoke.

  My head whips up, searching the town behind Jed for the source. The mere smell is enough to send my senses into overdrive; the sight of the cloud rising above
town freezes me in place. My eyes follow it down to the source, and find flames flickering over a building in the back end of town. With the dryness of the air and the already-shoddy structure of the house, the place is ablaze in seconds, fire hungrily eating its way up the building and spreading to the next one.

  As I stare in silent horror, a townie screams.

  “Fire!”

  The shout ignites a panic that spreads as quickly as the flames. The townies’ attention shifts immediately from the raiders to the threat inside their town. One of the council members shouts to throw sand on the fire, but everyone is already busily scrambling to escape from the blaze. The townies abandon their posts all at once, flooding down from their watchtowers and rushing toward the front gate.

  The fear is palpable, all consuming. In the wastes, fire means total destruction. With so little water to spare, it’s practically impossible to contain. It can easily eat through entire towns. And here, we’re trapped with it. The wall surrounds us, and there’s only one entrance, an entrance that’s currently shut, with raiders waiting just on the other side. The panicked townies will just clog it up on this side, making it impossible for anyone to get either in or out. And all the while the fire blazes closer, closer—

  It takes me a few seconds to realize Jed is shaking me. I forcibly tear my gaze away from the fire and focus on his pale, alarmed face. He’s shouting my name. I only know because I can read his lips; the sound is swallowed by the growing chaos around us. For a moment my mind flashes to another fire, another town—to the skin on my hands blistering as I tried to clear a path into the bonfire that used to be Old Creek, desperately trying to reach the screams inside; and the crack of the building collapsing, flaming wood falling right on top of me—

  I wrench my thoughts away and force myself to breathe deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth. This isn’t the time to panic, especially not with everyone around me already panicking. The town’s defense is crumbling, and the fire is still spreading, buildings falling one by one to the flames.