King of the Wasteland: Follow-up to Knight of the Wasteland

by Jon Cronshaw

  A muttering spreads through the crowd and Sal descends the ramp. She walks over to Abel who smiles at her. “That was good,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  Abel climbs the ramp and looks over the crowd. “I'm going to need some volunteers to help pull this thing, maybe a few to push as well.”

  Big Ned steps forward, raising a hand. “I'll do that.”

  “That's great,” Abel says. “I'll do it as well. That's two. We can do with four at the front, so two more.”

  Sal steps forward. “I will take up the burden.”

  Abel shakes his head. “You should stay here. If Alf is staying, then it's only right.”

  “I need to lead my people. I need to lead by example. I will not stay behind while everybody else takes great risk.” She folds her arms. “I'm coming and I'm going to pull that thing.”

  After a moment's silence, Abel shrugs. “Okay, so long as you're sure.” He looks around. “One more?”

  The young woman with blonde straggly hair raises a hand and calls out in a weak voice.

  Abel gives her an unsure look. “I don't think that's a good idea. Doesn't seem right.”

  “I pulled this before,” she says. “I can do it.”

  “But—”

  “Don't talk me out of it. Last time I did this, I was forced. When I think of pulling this thing, it's all about badness. If I do it for something good and it's my choice, I know it's the right thing. I need to.”

  Abel pats the woman’s shoulder and offers her a smile. “Okay,” he says. “Let's do this.”

  29. Guards

  Abel, Big Ned and a few others wheel the ramp off the highway’s edge, pushing it towards a copse of trees. The moon beams down from above, the sky clear and air still. Wiping his brow with a sleeve, Abel scrambles up the ramp, the crowd looking up at him. “I know it's going to be hard, but you will need to try to get some rest. We need to be as refreshed as possible for tomorrow.”

  “How are we going to sleep out here?” a man asks.

  “You've got cover from the trees. We should be okay making fires here. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing.”

  “We want to go now,” Big Ned says, beating his chest with the side of his spear. “Let's go get them.”

  “Not yet,” Abel says, raising a hand. “There's no point in going in until we know what we're dealing with.”

  “We already know what we’re dealing with,” a man calls. “We were there when they took our homes.”

  Abel nods. “True enough. But how many guards are there by the front gate? How many are there around the back? Do the guards have routes they follow?”

  The man drops his gaze. “You made your point.”

  “I'm going to take a look myself and see what we’re dealing with. I'll be gone for a few hours. If I’m not back by sunrise, assume the worst.” He swallows.

  “I want to come with you,” Sal says.

  “No,” Abel says, shaking his head. “I need to do this alone. I'm pretty good at hiding when I need to. The more people that go, the more chance there is of getting spotted.” He climbs down from the ramp, removing his pack and shotgun. “I need you to look after these. They'll just slow me down.”

  “You can't go out there unarmed.”

  “If I get caught, one weapon isn't going to help me. I’ve got my knife and pistol.” He shrugs. “Not that I can do anything with it.”

  ABEL APPROACHES TRINITY from the west, his head ducked as he creeps between hay bales. He blinks in the low light as the stars twinkle beyond the milky white moon. Shadowy smoke rises from inside as dark shapes glide along the fence’s top.

  Moving toward the road, he squints at the fence, keeping his eyes averted from the moonlight, a hand held over his brow. He reaches the edge of an irrigation ditch, its sides piled with earth. With a sigh, he drops down to his belly and rests his chin on his crossed forearms, watching, waiting.

  Every few minutes, two guards raise their heads over the fence, look around a few times, and then move on.

  Abel shudders as coldness grips him, muscles seizing as his breath turns to steam. He sits up, shivering, his teeth chattering as he rubs his thighs and wiggles his toes inside his boots.

  The heads appear again and Abel ducks. He counts to twenty before looking up. A guard calls out and Abel scrambles to his feet, staggering backwards as his boots catch on the uneven ground, head smacking against a stone.

  Shaking free of the purple and white spots that fill his vision, Abel gets up, frowning as Trinity’s entrance slides open and two armed men emerge.

  “Damn it,” he mutters, turning and running.

  He flinches at the crack of a rifle. The bullet sends a clump of soil into the air to his right. Glancing over his shoulder, he curses as the men stride over to the road’s edge, taking aim. He lowers his head, running and stumbling in zigzags. When he reaches a hay bale, he takes cover behind it to catch his breath, his back pushed against the stiff, spiky hay.

  Poking his head around the side, he watches as the men shrug and amble back inside, closing the fence behind them.

  He waits for several minutes, his sweat turning icy along his body. After a while, the guards fall back into their usual pattern. Abel sighs and heads back towards the camp.

  THE CLUSTER OF CAMPFIRES burns in a blinding orange, the light reflecting against the whites of people's eyes as they glance up at Abel.

  Sal runs towards him, embracing him. “I was so worried about you. How was it?” She picks a twig from his beard.

  “Hard to say,” Abel says, rubbing the back of his neck. “There are a couple of people on watch. They spotted me, but I managed to hide. Apart from that it was pretty quiet.”

  “So what should we do?”

  “We need to get the ramp to the main entrance. I was thinking a couple of us could go in first. It will be a lot easier if we can get the gate open.”

  “What about those guards?”

  “I was thinking we could send Big Ned's people across the fields to create a diversion around the other side.”

  “Can’t we all just use the ramp?”

  “It’s not going to work. There’s too many of us. It will take too long.”

  “I'm scared,” Sal says, biting her bottom lip.

  “Scared is good — it will keep you sharp.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Try to sleep.”

  “I don't think that's going to happen tonight.”

  “As soon as we start to see the sun coming up, we need to be on the road. You’re not going to be any use to anyone if you're tired.” Abel shudders and rubs his hands.

  Sal places a hand on his forehead. “You should get yourself warm, you feel like ice.”

  “I need to speak to Big Ned. I’ll get myself warm by his fire.”

  “They’ve been cooking something rancid. There’s been some horrible smells.”

  “Should be easy to find them.” Abel smiles. “Now try to sleep.” He turns and wanders through the camp. People lie huddled on the ground, fires burning at their feet.

  The stench of rotting meat drifts through the air. He follows the smell, dipping his head beneath branches as ferns whip his legs. Reaching a clearing, Big Ned and Second Bob sit poking a fire. “Ned, can I have a word?”

  “You want talks?”

  “Yep. Mind if I sit by your fire?”

  “Sit.” Big Ned pats the ground. “You had eats?”

  Abel kneels before the flames, holding his hands out to the heat. He glances at the chunks of half-cooked meat lying in the dirt. “Had some beans earlier. I’m good.”

  Big Ned snorts out a laugh. “Beans make you weak.”

  “And do trumps, mister,” Second Bob says. “Make bad smells.”

  “We eat meat. Make us ready for fight.”

  “Had some of that critter left you brought us,” Second Bob says. “Bit green, but it still good eats.”

  Abel waves his hands. “Honestly, I’d rather y
ou kept strong. For tomorrow.”

  “You got plans?” Big Ned asks.

  “We need you and your people to approach Trinity from the rear. I was thinking you could cause a distraction, try to get in at the other end.”

  “We not missing out. We need to fight. They got to get got.”

  “This is the best way. If anything you'll be the first ones.”

  Big Ned grins.

  “It's going to be difficult to know who's doing what. You should have a couple of your people sending signals?”

  Big Ned shakes his head. “What you mean? We fighters.”

  Abel tugs at his beard. “Yep. You are stronger and tougher than anyone I know, but there's no point in us going up there with the ramp to get in if you don't know when to go.”

  There’s a long pause as Big Ned rubs his chin. “Shenanigans. We trick them good. Like hunting tree critter.”

  “Right,” Abel agrees. “That's it.”

  “One of you shakes it out of tree, other bash it with club. Then you got some good eats.” He wrinkles his nose. “I ain't eating no people.”

  “No one is expecting you to,” Abel says, frowning. “Keep focused on the signal and give them all you've got when it's time.”

  Big Ned slaps Abel on the arm, his lips peeling back in a toothy grin. “We can get this king. We're going to bash them up good.” He rubs his hands together. “They'll all get got and we'll get our women back.”

  30. The Fence

  Abel stops at the highway’s edge, signalling for the others to bring the campervan to a halt. “Ned,” he says in a hushed voice. “I need you to take your people across this field. You should see the fence after a while to the right.”

  “We wait for signal,” Big Ned says.

  Abel nods, switching the shotgun to his other shoulder, lifting it awkwardly around his backpack. “Be as quiet as you can. Remember, if this is going to work, they need to hear you first.”

  “We be creeping. Don't worry. We'll get them good.” Big Ned drops from the highway, leading Town’s residents into the darkness.

  Abel turns to Sal. “You ready?”

  “You sure this is going to work?”

  Abel shrugs. “Best not think about that.” He looks past Sal, casting his gaze over the scores of people looking back at him, eyes bright with reflected moonlight. “Sun's going to be up real soon. Does anyone need me to go over the plan?” Abel waits as a few people shuffle and cough. “Good. Let's do this.”

  The trail towards Trinity snakes ahead, the road surface shrouded in blackness. Abel and Sal switch places with the people towing the ramp, helping each other fasten the chains around their shoulders. A man and woman join them as a couple of people hold car doors out in front of them like shields. Abel takes the strain, grunting as the wheels start to turn. Sal mutters something to Abel's right. “What was that?” he asks.

  Sal takes in a deep breath through her nose. “I'm trying to pray.”

  “You and God still on good terms then?”

  “I'm looking for a sign.”

  “Right.” Abel leans forward, regaining his balance as his feet catch on discarded junk. The first hints of gloaming shimmer along the sky to his right, faint flickers of oranges and purples and reds catching the edges of clouds.

  “Damn it,” Abel says, as a sheet of wood slips beneath his foot. He looks down at the gaping trench. “Wait.”

  The others stagger to a halt. “What is it?” a man asks.

  “I need a couple of the people with doors to go on ahead. I think we can steer around this one, but I don't want any of us falling into any of these pits.”

  “We'll do it,” a woman says, walking ahead with a man at her side, their car door held out.

  Turning, Abel pushes the ramp back a few steps, changing its direction. “Let's keep going,” he says, taking the chain's tension.

  They trudge on ahead for thirty or so metres before the man and the woman run back towards them. “The pit is too deep,” the woman says, gesturing behind her. “There's no way we can get past.”

  “You sure?” Abel asks, pulling free from the chains.

  The woman nods.

  “Show me.” Abel follows the woman as she leads the way along the trail. She stops abruptly and points to the ground. Crouching, Abel inspects the trench and shakes his head. “Damn it. We don't have time to fill it and it's going to be too wide for a wooden sheet to hold.” He gets up and looks around at the sky, the sun’s edges just visible over the horizon. Jogging back to the ramp he looks around at the people trailing behind them. “We can't get up the road. We’ll have to take this thing over the fields.”

  “But the ground is sodden,” says Sal. “The wheels will get stuck.”

  “I need ten more people. We’re going to lift this on our shoulders.” He pats the side of the ramp.

  After half a minute of whispers and murmurs, a dozen men line up against the ramp’s base, straining as they lift it onto their shoulders. Abel cringes beneath the weight, hard metal pressing down against his shoulders and neck. He lets out sharp staccato breaths, his knees trembling as they drop from the road and onto the soft ground.

  Shambling forward, Abel curses and groans, his boots sinking into the mud, the other men wobbling and straining around him. “This isn't going to work,” he says through gritted teeth. “Let's put this thing down.”

  They lower the ramp to the ground, breathless and sweating. Abel shakes his head as the wheels sink into the mud, rolling his shoulder against the pain.

  “What are we going to do?” Sal asks

  “I don't know.” Abel staggers to his feet and inspects the ramp. His eyes wander towards the fence. “Damn it.”

  Sal follows his gaze. “Jacob.”

  “Yep. I'd hoped they would have taken him down.”

  Swallowing, Sal turns away and lets out a trembling sigh. “This isn't going to work, is it?”

  Abel shakes his head. “Don't speak like that.” He runs his hand along the ramp and nods to himself. “We don't need the chassis to get over the fence,” he announces. “Let's get this ramp free and we’ll just use that.”

  “We got no tools,” a man says.

  Abel turns to the men, now sitting on the ground, rubbing their shoulders, gasping for air. “Let's try to rip this ramp free. Carefully, though.”

  The men surround the ramp, wood splitting around the joints as they separate it from the campervan's chassis.

  After a few minutes, the ramp lies on the ground, half submerged in mud. Abel forces a smile and sighs. “Good work, people.”

  Moving to the ramp’s front, he raises it onto his left shoulder, smiling as the others follow his lead and take its weight.

  Abel glimpses Second Bob crouching next to a hay bale, and waves. “This is it,” he says. “Let's try to go a bit faster now.” He picks up the pace, starting to jog, feet slipping against the mud.

  The sound of shouts and war cries ring out from beyond the settlement’s other side as Abel leans the ramp against the fence. “Let's get in,” Abel says, turning to Sal. “You can open the gate.”

  Sal nods and charges up the ramp, disappearing over the fence. Abel turns to the others. “Follow me. One at a time.” He gazes up and swallows, pulse thundering in his head, and runs forward, clambering upwards, the wood cracking beneath his feet. Reaching out, he grabs the top of fence, the ramp shattering beneath him. “Damn it,” he cries out. His feet scramble against the fence’s side until he gains traction and rolls over the top, landing on the box truck’s roof and bouncing to the ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of his chest when he lands, the shotgun and backpack pushing down on his back.

  Sal reaches down to him as he rolls on his side, gasping for breath. She glances up towards the top of the fence. “Are the others coming?”

  “Ramp...broke...” Abel gulps.

  She drags him to his feet. “Help me get this gate open.”

  The man behind them clears his throat. Abel looks do
wn at the pistol and raises his hands.

  “Big mistake coming here,” the man says. “Stick them over there.” He gestures to the backpack and shotgun.

  Abel nods, sliding the backpack from his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. The man snatches the shotgun and shakes his head. “What's King Omar going to do with you?”

  31. The Church

  Abel staggers backwards, holding his jaw when the king strikes him again with a club.

  “Have you seen what happened to your friend? We crucified him as an example to anyone who would dare to defy me.” The king glowers at Abel. “Now I'm going to have to drag his corpse down and hammer up a new one.” He turns to Sal. “You could go on the other side.”

  Sal's eyes widen. “You are a monster.”

  The king shrugs and gestures to the crucifix standing behind him. “I'm the monster? That implement of torture was already here when I found this place. I watched him dying up there. It was a terrible sight.” He holds his hands out, echoing the shape of Jacob on the cross, and looks up at each hand in turn. “Imagine having all your weight pulling down on you from nails driven into your wrists. He squirmed for so long. When the pain was too much in his wrists, he pushed down on the nails that were driven through his ankles. All the while, his ribs were stretched and his breathing came out in strained breaths. I didn't think a man could cry out for so long.”

  “You really are a monster,” Sal says.

  “It could have been worse for him. I think one of my men shot him. They must have been weak. They must've felt sorry for him.”

  “I did that.”

  A grin flickers across the king’s face. “You murdered your friend? That's another thing I can add to your growing list of misdeeds.”

  “You need to give Big Ned's daughters back,” Abel says, wiping blood from his mouth.

  The king snorts. “I like you. You've got spirit.” He swings the club, connecting with Abel’s gut.

  Abel drops to the floor, cringing.

  “Leave him—” Sal glance up as the church bell rings out above.