The Wasteland Series: Books 1-3 of the post-apocalyptic survival series

by Jon Cronshaw

  “Thanks.”

  5. The Tent

  The sun presses low against the horizon, the sky flooding with streaks of dull pink. A river flows parallel to the highway, winding its way east. A sheer embankment climbs up to the right, windswept trees hanging by their roots above. Sis brings her bike to a stop ahead of Abel and looks through her rifle’s sight.

  “See anything?” Abel asks, approaching her.

  Sis nods. “They camp down there.” She points along the highway, tracing the line of a road in the distance.

  Abel closes his left eye and looks through the sight, its greenish hue tinting the world. He stops when the pointed top of a striped bell tent lines up with the crosshair. “Hopefully, they won’t do any harm if they’re setting up camp. I bet we could sneak past them and warn Trinity.”

  Sis shakes her head and points. “People on road.”

  Through the sight, Abel sees four men with rifles standing sentry next to the truck. “Damn it,” he mutters.

  “What?” asks Sis.

  “They’re blocking the road.” Squinting, he lowers the rifle, his focus adjusting. “I want to get a closer look,” he says, handing back the rifle. “See what we’re dealing with.”

  “How are we going to get past?” David asks.

  “We go round.”

  David tilts his head. “We’ve got a river that side and it’s pretty steep up there. We’re going to be open on the road, and I don’t think we’ll do too well in the water.”

  “Use boat,” Sis suggests.

  Abel considers this for several seconds then shakes his head. “Good thinking, but it will take too long. The river will be flowing against us.”

  Sis nods. “Best way is to keep on road. We just got to keep hidden.”

  Abel lets out a snort and shakes his head. “It’s not going to work. Not with three of us.”

  Sis makes a vague gesture towards the embankment to the right. “I can’t take bike up there. Quick sneak is best. We get trouble and I shoot.”

  “Please try not to kill anyone,” Abel says, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. “You’ll only get them mad.”

  Sis pulls a face and free-wheels forward.

  “I wish we’d packed,” David says, turning to Abel. “We’re not prepared for this.”

  “Damn it, kid. We can’t just let those raiders get to Trinity. We can manage for one night.”

  David sighs. “As long as you’re sure.”

  “We wait until dark,” Sis says. “Shadow’s our friend.”

  THE MOON SHINES A BRILLIANT silvery-white through the blackness of the night. Abel crawls on his elbows, dragging his body forward in the darkness to look over the king’s camp, the smell of wet soil and cooked meats filling the air.

  The truck stands on the highway’s edge, overlooking the tents and bonfires as the horse laps at the water from the riverbank. Shadowy figures wander around the camp while others tend to the fires. The bell tent stands in the middle, its red and white stripes meeting at the top point. A pole stands at the tent’s entrance, a couple of severed heads driven onto its spike, one of them fresh and pale with bright red hair. The older head stares at Abel with dead eyes, its half-rotten mouth peeled back into a sneering grin. Abel shudders, averting his gaze.

  “You think the king’s in that one?” David asks in a whisper.

  “I’d say so, kid.”

  “How are we going to get past?”

  “I don’t know. They’re blocking the road and we can’t exactly stroll through their camp.”

  Sis ducks over her handlebars at Abel’s side. “We can hide,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “I can pick some off on road. Make a path.”

  “That’s a bad idea,” says Abel. “There are too many of them.”

  “I think she should,” David says.

  “No, damn it. If we go round killing, we’re just as bad as them.”

  “Surely it’s better to kill to stop more deaths?”

  Abel sighs. “It’s not, kid. Trust me. It’s just not.”

  “I can’t see anyone from Town. I thought they were with them?”

  “We’ll get them out if we see them.”

  The tent flaps open and the king emerges, the crown still perched on his head. The bike rider follows close behind him, carrying a crate.

  “It’s him,” David says.

  The cyclist lays the crate on the ground, and lets the king lean on his shoulder to climb up.

  “I take him out,” says Sis. “End this.”

  Abel glares at her. “No.”

  The king claps his hands three times and raises his head, eyes sparkling as the other members of his camp stop what they are doing and gravitate towards him.

  “My people,” he says in a deep, booming voice. “Our quest has been a difficult one, but soon we will rejoice in the glory of our kingdom. As your king, I rule with a strong and fair hand. As our numbers grow and our righteousness is felt, it will only be a matter of time before order comes to this lawless wasteland.”

  “I can’t hear what he’s saying,” David says, over the cheers.

  Abel raises a finger to his mouth. “Shh.”

  “The protected zone has kept us exiled for far too long,” the king continues. “When we build our kingdom, we will conquer what is ours. We will end the cycle of drugs and lawlessness. We will root out all those who oppose us and take back what is our birthright. Those beyond the wall have kept us scraping out a pathetic existence for too long. Well, I say, no more. Enough is enough is enough is enough.” Cheers drown out his words.

  “What’s he on about?” David asks.

  Abel shakes his head. “I don’t know, kid. He’s crazy.”

  Sis pulls at Abel’s sleeve. “The road clear. We should go.”

  Abel looks at Sis and then at the king. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He turns, and crawls back the way they came, curving his way towards the highway.

  Reaching the road’s edge, Abel gets to his feet. “We’re going to be exposed going past. The best we can do is keep to the right and sneak past. Hopefully, they’ll be paying attention to the king.”

  “We should go home,” says David, shaking his head.

  “We need to warn Sal. We can’t not warn them.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Could you live with yourself if they got to Sal?” Abel clenches his jaw. “If they destroyed Trinity, you think you could live with knowing you could have warned them?

  David sighs. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

  Abel leads the way, running forward with his head dipped low. The embankment rises up to his right, steep and rocky. Wiry trees poke from the cracks above, leaning over the road, perched like vultures in the moonlight.

  Creeping past the truck, Abel stops, tilting his head at the noise inside. “There’s people in there.”

  “I bet it’s those women from Town,” says David.

  Abel glances past the truck to the clearing, the king still talking and waving his arms. “Let’s see if we can get them out.”

  Sis grabs his arm, her eyes wide, ferocious. “No!”

  “Damn it, we can’t just leave them.” Abel shakes his head.

  “She’s right,” David says. “It’s too risky.”

  Abel hesitates for a moment and heaves out a shuddering sigh. “Okay,” he manages. “We need to focus on warning Trinity.” He swallows and moves forward, looking back over his shoulder towards the truck. “We’ll come back for them later.”

  Someone calls out from the camp and points towards them. Heads turn. “Seize them,” the king shouts.

  Sis bolts on ahead, riding into the darkness.

  Abel yanks David’s sleeve, jerking him as he sets off. He runs full force into the blackness, only vaguely aware of the highway’s edge. He scans ahead for Sis, but sees no sign of her.

  Charging forward, he stumbles, his leg catching on a twisted tree root. “Damn it,” he cries out. David pulls him to his
feet and moves off the highway, scrambling down into thick brush.

  Branches snap and scratch across Abel’s face, the voices closing in behind him. He ducks and weaves through the trees, ignoring the thorn bushes that tear at his flesh, slicing his forehead open, and scratching at his hands and wrists. “Where's Sis?”

  “Still on the road, I think,” David says.

  “Give it a few more minutes and we’ll head back to the road. I think we've lost them.”

  The moon slips behind billowing, whirling clouds as firelight pokes through the bushes. Reaching the edge of the trees, Abel leans against a trunk, scanning back along the highway for signs of movement through the shadows. “I think we lost them,” he says, his breath strained.

  David sweeps his gaze along the highway, and nods. “Come on.”

  They run along the narrow ditch, stumbling over broken branches, trailing vines, and junk. “I'm going to break my ankle at this rate,” says Abel. “We should get on the road properly.”

  “But they’ll see us.”

  “They'll have lost interest. I'm sure they’ve got better things to do than chasing us.” Breathing heavily, Abel spits the acid taste from his mouth and watches the road behind him. “Looks clear, kid.”

  They step onto the asphalt, skirting past the remains of cars and trucks, slumped rusty things, weathered and twisted into garish forms, shadows upon shadows in the night.

  Abel starts when part of a van door crumbles from its hinges, clattering against the concrete. The noise rings out, echoing around him.

  “You think Sis went this way?” David asks.

  “Who could say? She seemed pretty frantic. I'm not too sure we'll see her again.” He blinks against the dripping blood, sticky around his eyelids.

  “We should find somewhere to camp.”

  “I'd rather push on, kid.” He wipes his eyes with a sleeve. “We need to warn Sal.”

  A man’s voice calls out behind them. Abel turns to see two shadowy figures lurching towards them, their outlines barely visible in the darkness. “We need to go.”

  They run along the highway’s middle, the central barrier long-gone. Muscles seize in Abel's thighs, the bottoms of his feet burning and raw. Tiredness grips him, pulling him down. A stitch tugs at his chest. He stops and hunches over, pushing thick spit from his mouth, blood pooling around his eyebrows.

  “You okay?” David asks.

  Abel looks up and raises a hand, nodding. He spits again and wipes more blood from his eyes, gasping for breath. “I'll be fine, kid. Just need to get my breath back.”

  “They're gaining.”

  Shuddering with exhaustion, Abel runs his tongue along his dry lips, closes his eyes for a moment, and nods. “Okay,” he manages, shuffling forwards into a half-run, forcing his body to move against its protests.

  The voices behind them grow louder and his shin clips something sharp and sturdy. He lands hard on his right hip and lets out an agonised grunt. Looking up at David, he shakes his head weakly. “Just go, kid. Warn them. Don't let these bastards get them.”

  “I can't leave you.”

  “Damn it, kid. You need to warn them.”

  They stare at each other for a long moment.

  “Go!”

  David turns and runs. Abel lies back in the darkness, gritting his teeth and waiting, his muscles burning and quivering. He closes his eyes.

  “I think he's dead,” a male voice says above him.

  Abel feels a kick in his side and groans, curling up into the pain.

  The second man laughs. “We should cut him.”

  “We should string him up.”

  “Two trophies in one day.”

  A loud crack comes from somewhere above and the first man falls dead at Abel's side. He opens his eyes, cringing as another gunshot takes out the second. A long silence follows.

  David pulls him up.

  “What happened?” Abel asks, confused and dizzy.

  “I think Sis is still with us.”

  6. The Envoy

  Abel limps along the trail towards Trinity, his hand resting on David's shoulder for support. Hay bales stand at regular intervals along the field to the left. An irrigation ditch trickles to the right.

  Abel looks around to see Sis bringing her bike to a stop. “What's up?”

  She stares at Abel for several seconds and then swallows. “Nothing.”

  “It will be okay,” David says. “They're good people.”

  Sis shakes her head. “No guards. No one to watch.” She turns her head towards the highway. “If king comes, fence won't hold.”

  Abel nods. “I've been all round that fence. It's pretty secure.”

  “That's why we're here,” David says. “They'll be able to set up a guard. It will be fine.”

  Sis scratches her neck, biting her bottom lip. “Okay.”

  The towering crucifix to the right of the main entrance looms ahead, its form dark against the glaring sunlight. Sheets of metal and wood stand tethered to chunks of broken asphalt, twisted lamp posts acting as stakes for telegraph cables and ropes.

  Abel bangs his fist against the fence at the trail’s end. “Hello?” he calls. He forces a reassuring smile when he meets Sis's gaze. “It'll be fine. We’re here.”

  She flinches when the fence shudders open and Sal looks out from beneath her hooded robe.

  “What happened to you?” Sal asks.

  Abel reaches up to his forehead. “It looks worse that it is,” he says. “I'm sure Jacob can clean it up.”

  Sal shakes her head, a black dreadlock spilling from her hood. “Jacob is at the Grid.”

  “The Grid?”

  “We're spreading out. He's out there helping people.”

  Abel pushes out his bottom lip and nods. “Certainly a place that could do with help.”

  Sal turns to Sis, her eyes widening at the trio of rifles. “Is she with you?”

  “This is Sis,” David says.

  “Well, she'll need to hand in those weapons if she's going to come in.”

  Sis takes a sharp intake of breath. “No.”

  “It’s just while we’re here,” says Abel. “Don’t worry, Sal will keep them safe.”

  “No.” Sis shakes her head, wide-eyed. “No.” She looks along the road behind her and takes a few steps backwards. “No.”

  Sal opens her palms and offers a warm smile. “Child, it’s okay. You’ll be safe here. You won’t need weapons.” Her voice is soft, calming.

  Sis looks back over her shoulder and then looks at Sal for a long moment, tugging at the ends of her hair. “King coming.”

  Abel gives Sal a haunted look. “That's why we're here. We've got nothing to trade. You know anything about the king?”

  There's a long pause and Sal looks past Abel along the road. “You’d better come in. You hungry?”

  Abel nods. “Yep.” He turns to Sis. “The food’s good here. Let Sal have your rifles. We can get them back when we go.”

  Holding her breath, Sis nods.

  SAL WALKS AT ABEL'S side with Sis's rifles cradled under her left arm. David and Sis follow behind. Abel inhales the aromas of wood smoke and soil, the stench of pigs and animal filth.

  “We got word of King Omar from one of the caravans a few months back,” Sal says as they head along a sloping dirt track down towards the settlement’s centre, passing ramshackle huts, vegetable patches, and chicken coops.

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?” Abel asks.

  “We hear lots of things from traders. If I told you every rumour that came our way, you’d be crippled by fear.”

  The water tower’s globe stands ahead, partially blocking the front of a white-painted church. Residents slip by them, some offering Abel a smile, others ignoring him. A brown and white cow stares out from behind a wire mesh fence as bees hum in the air.

  “That’s a cow,” David says.

  Sis doesn’t respond. Abel turns to see she’s stopped at the fence staring at the cow. She raises h
er fingers to her temples, pointing them up like horns. “Moo,” she says. She tilts her head and stares at the cow. “No horns.”

  David laughs. “Come on,” he says. “I’m hungry.”

  The cow lows and Sis flinches. She trembles, paralysed.

  “It’s okay,” Abel says.

  Sis gives him an unsure look.

  Abel lifts his hands to his head, pointing his fingers to the sky. “Moo.”

  The flicker of a smile brushes at the sides of Sis’s mouth. The cow lows again, and this time she laughs, copying the call.

  “It’s more like ‘oooorm’ than ‘moo’,” she says.

  Abel laughs. “Hey, maybe different cows have different voices.”

  “Like people.” Sis smiles, nodding at the cow.

  Sal opens the door to the communal hall, smiling at Sis. “Would you like to leave your bike here?” She makes a gesture to the hall’s outer wall.

  “No,” Sis says.

  Sal shrugs and Abel follows her inside to the candlelit gloom. “Take a seat,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

  Three rows of long pine tables fill the hall. Abel approaches the middle table and slides onto the nearest bench, its scratched surface smooth from years of wear.

  Sis wheels her bike into the hall behind David and leans it against the wall to her left. She sits on the bench across from Abel, looking around with a bemused expression.

  “Abel likes Sal,” David says in a low whisper.

  “I heard that,” Abel says, narrowing his eyes. “Just leave it.”

  “She’s nice,” Sis says. “You should be with her if you like her.”

  “Damn it, kid. Why do you have to bring things up? Just leave it.”

  “He doesn’t like me talking about it,” David whispers, grinning.

  Sis sniggers.

  Abel shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. “Just leave it,” he mutters.

  Sal returns with three plates of food and a bowl of steaming water.

  Sis starts when the first plate hits the table. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologise,” says Sal.

  “King coming.”