* * *
The following morning Zach awoke before the others. Sunlight peeked in through the sheer curtains lining the barred windows of the house, illuminating the dust in the air. The drifting particles reminded him of tiny fairies flying about, without a care in the world. The thought of being carefree made him envious.
Eventually the others stirred. Within a couple of hours they were packed and ready to make one last trip back to the train wreck.
The journey back to the railroad tracks proved quiet and uneventful. Zach couldn’t help but feel as if he was headed to a funeral instead of a railcar. After more than two days without any sign of his dad his hope had begun to diminish.
Once at the train car, Max painted over the old message, replacing it with a new one right beside it. Zach stood back and read the message.
ED – TRISH AND BOYS SAFE – WENT TO KC
“Look good?” Max asked, looking at the others.
“It’s good,” Trish replied.
They spent some time searching for any more supplies that might have been ejected from the train. They took what they could of the remaining MREs, stuffing them into their backpacks alongside green beans, carrots and baked beans.
With the message to Ed in place, the five of them stood on the tracks. Zach followed the rails with his eyes until the line narrowed and curved around a small hill, disappearing from sight. Anything could be around that bend; now he’d have to face it without his dad.
He glanced at his brother.
Jeremy stared back at him. “Dad will find us,” he said.
Zach smiled.
He didn’t have the heart to tell his little brother otherwise.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
While Ed Brady slept, he dreamed.
In the dream he stood upon a bridge above the Mississippi River as two infected hordes closed in from either side. He fired the pistol into the crowd, but the bullets simply disappeared into the wave of bodies.
He singled out one of the carriers, lining up the shot with its chest. He pulled the trigger again…nothing. He chose another target. Aimed. Fired. No effect, as if they possessed hollow bodies, the bullets passing harmlessly through them.
He looked around. He saw Trish with Tammy’s old rifle, Dave with Brenda’s pistol. His own sons firing their guns. Even Mitchell was there, guns blazing in both hands as he meticulously placed his shots.
Ed faced the crowd, pulling the trigger again. The hammer fell with an audible click, the chamber empty.
A carrier broke away from the pack, charging toward him. He reached behind, searching for his baseball bat. Gone. He looked around again, but now he was alone, his family and friends vanishing as if they’d never existed.
The carrier ran. No limping, no paralyzed limbs. Nothing to slow it. Opening its mouth wide — rotten, blackened teeth protruded from its infected gums — it unleashed a piercing scream.
Beneath the dirt and grime, Ed finally made out a face.
Zach.
His son charged, wailing, his mouth open so wide it seemed as if his face might split in half.
Finally, Ed screamed.
* * *
Ed awoke. Not with a start, but with a dull realization.
The train. Zach and Jeremy, Trish. The sound of twisted metal and the feeling of weightlessness before everything went black.
He tried sitting up, but fresh pain tore through this shoulder. He lay back down again in the strange bed, taking deep breaths to get through the pain. Slowly it subsided, diminishing to a dull ache. His head and his ribs joined in, bringing their own brand of discomfort to the mix.
Ed looked around the room. Candles burned on a nightstand beside the bed. Concrete walls surrounded him on three sides, unpainted drywall making up the fourth wall. In it a single door led in and out of the small room. An unlit kerosene heater sat against one of the walls. Above it hung a homemade ventilation system of metal tubing and duct tape. A futon lay on the floor, wadded up sheets on top, draping off and onto the floor.
Ed’s mind raced as he tried to figure out where he was, how he’d gotten there and where his family was now.
“Hello?” he said into the dimly lit room. The word came out as a hoarse whisper. “Hey!” he called out, louder. Pain flared in his side as he struggled to project his voice.
Just when he thought he was alone, the doorknob twisted. The door slowly opened. A figure entered the room, stepping into the candlelight. Despite the beard Ed could see that high school couldn’t have been far in the kid’s past.
“You’re awake,” the kid said. “How do you feel?”
“How long have I been out?”
“A day or so.”
“Who are you?”
“Jasper. Real name’s Henry, but nobody’s called me that since I was a little kid.”
“Where’s Trish? Where are the boys?”
“I wouldn’t know, man. I only saw you.”
“You were on the train?”
“Not when it crashed, no. I was out on my bike and I ran across a bunch of deadheads trolling around the wreck. Decided to check it out and found you in one of the cars.” He paused. “No offense, but I was hoping you’d be a girl.”
“You didn’t find anybody else?”
“Nah. Just you.”
“I need to find them. I need to get out of here.”
Jasper shook his head. “Not a good idea. You got busted up pretty bad in that wreck. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“We have to go back.”
“I don’t think you can go much of anywhere right now.”
“You don’t understand. I have to.”
“You don’t understand just how jacked up you are right now. That collarbone of yours is for sure busted and I think you might have some broken ribs. You should see the bruise.”
Ed said nothing.
“What’s your name?” Jasper asked.
“Ed.”
“Good to meet you.”
Ed didn’t reply.
“This is usually where you say ‘good to meet you too’, or something like that. I mean, I did save your life and all.”
“You did?”
“I guess you don’t remember.”
“No.”
“Well, I did. Almost got my ass killed in the process.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Anyway, you can stay here ’til you get better. I have clean water and plenty of food. If you get hungry or thirsty just holler.”
“I need to find my family. I can’t stay here.”
“You’ll do nobody any good in the shape you’re in now,” Jasper said. “Rest. We’ll talk about your family later. Promise. For now, I gotta run.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Stunned, Ed’s mind raced to catch up. Zach and Jeremy were out there somewhere and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Or maybe they hadn’t survived at all. It seemed so unreal, like a nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up.
Unable to move, Ed lay motionless in the bed as despair had its way with him. After what seemed like an eternity he drifted off to sleep again.
This time he had no dreams.
* * *
Ed awoke, finding himself in the same room as before. A candle still lit the room, but now the kid occupied the futon. Ed struggled to remember the kid’s name. “Henry?” he said, the words barely more than a whisper.
No response.
“Henry?”
The kid stirred. “It’s Jasper.”
“What?”
“Call me Jasper.”
“Oh, sorry. Jasper?”
“What?”
“What time is it?”
“I don’t keep the time anymore. No point.”
“It is day or night?”
“Night.”
“Are we still at your place?”
“Yeah.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“A few years.”
“Is it safe? How do you keep the carriers out?”
“Basement apartment. Only one way in or out, the rest is underground.”
“Good.”
“How’s the pain?” Jasper asked.
“About the same. Not worse, if that’s a good sign.”
“As good as any. I’ve got whiskey and vodka if that’ll help.”
“It’s manageable for now.” He paused. “Jasper?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m starving.”
“How about some soup? I have some of that alcohol-gel I can fire up. It’ll warm it up quick.”
“That’d be great.”
“I think I’ll have some myself.” Jasper rose from the futon and walked out of the room. Sounds of cooking traveled in through the open door. The aroma of chicken soup wafted in moments later, causing Ed’s mouth to water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
Eventually Jasper returned with two bowls. Ed struggled to sit up, fighting through the pain until his back rested against the headboard. He took the bowl from Jasper and thanked him. The first bite tasted like heaven.
“I ate all the cream of potato,” Jasper said. “That’s my favorite.”
“This is fine. More than fine.”
“I used to have a shit-ton of that potato soup. For a while I had a truck that ran pretty well, so I filled that thing up on a few long-haul runs about a year after the virus hit. Lot of deadheads roaming the streets in those days.”
“I remember.”
“It was dangerous business. They’ve thinned out since then, but not nearly enough for my liking.”
Ed took a bite. “It’s been four years. I don’t know how they’re still alive.”
“I think I might. I have a theory.”
“What is it?”
“They’re changing, man. Evolving. Learning.”
“How so?”
“They hunt in packs now.”
“They’ve always hunted in packs.”
“Yeah, but they never communicated with each other. Their version of pack-hunting was just ganging up together in a free-for-all. Opportunistic. Now they’re planning their attacks. They’re using strategy.”
“How are they communicating? You’re not saying they talk to each other, are you?”
“Not exactly, no. But I’ve seen them hunting deer and rabbit, even the feral dogs. With purpose, you know?”
“Pack-hunting doesn’t necessarily make them smart.”
“Maybe, but I think some of them also know how to use fire.”
“Really?”
“Pretty sure. I’m not saying they’re becoming geniuses or anything, but knowing how to build a fire and hunt for food will take anybody through more than one winter.”
Ed stared at the wall, thinking. “Evolving…like something out of I am Legend.”
“Kinda, yeah. But I don’t think they’re having deadhead babies yet.”
“Still, if those things are becoming organized they could wipe us out. There’ll be no human race to come back after all the infected have died.”
Jasper shrugged. “Well, we had it coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“The human race was fucked even before the virus. Look at all the wars, people killing each other over stupid shit. Politics, religion, money, you name it. We were bound to wipe ourselves out eventually. Maybe this damn virus was something our crooked government cooked up. Some kinda germ warfare that got away from us.”
“C’mon, it wasn’t all bad.”
“Wasn’t it? Maybe the world needed a reboot. Flush all the old down the toilet and let another species give things a try. It worked with the dinosaurs.”
“There was still plenty of good left in the world too.”
“I don’t know, man.”
“You never met my boys.”
Jasper sighed. “Fair enough.” He paused for a moment. “Sorry for the rant.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sitting here running my mouth while your boys are out there somewhere. I’m a dick.”
“You saved my life when you didn’t have to. That means there’s still some good left in the world, right?”
Jasper shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Sometime we ignore facts if they don’t support our claims.”
A few moments of silence passed. “There was some good in the world,” Jasper said. “My brother was one of the good guys.”
“What happened to him?”
“Virus. He caught it early on, before they even knew what it was.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Ed said. “Were you two close?”
“Yeah. It was tough. Really tough.”
Ed nodded, allowed a few more moments of silence to pass. “Does it get lonely here by yourself?”
“Sometimes. I can pass the time pretty well though. I’m kind of a loner, if you didn’t figure that out yet.”
Ed grinned. “I might have gotten that.”
“Most days I just go out and collect supplies on the bike. Riding takes my mind off of things.”
“My boys and I, we walked,” Ed said. “All the way from the east coast. It gave us something to do, I guess. A way to pass the time.”
More silence. Jasper sipped at his soup. “Your boys are okay. You gotta believe that.”
“I know.”
“Look, I got a bunch of supplies here, plenty to share. You hang out here ’til you’re better and then we’ll go look for your family together.”
“Thanks, Jasper, but you’ve already risked your neck for me once. I don’t want to drag you into anything else.”
“Bullshit. I’m not offering. I’m insisting.” Jasper raised his eyebrows, a slight grin forming on his face. “Besides, you’re in no position to argue.”
“What about your life here? All your stuff? Your food and supplies? I can’t ask you to leave all that behind.”
“Stuff is stuff,” Jasper said. “Besides, this is no kind of life. And it’s getting kinda boring here. I probably need to get out for a while. I think I’m going a little stir crazy as it is. Once we find your family maybe I’ll come back. Or not. I’ll figure it out then.”
“Are you sure? I might not survive this.”
“Then that’s no different than how things are for me today. There’s no guarantee anybody’s going to survive until tomorrow.”
Jasper stood up and retrieved Ed’s empty bowl. He walked to the door and paused. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it. I can’t have you slowing me down once we get out of here,” he said, smiling.
Ed couldn’t help but return it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Let me tell you about Kansas City,” Calvin said from behind the wheel.
Dave only sat, numb with shock and grief, listening with a sense of disbelief to the madman in the driver’s seat, wondering why they hadn’t killed him when they had the chance.
“My brother runs Kansas City now,” Calvin said. “Those bombs that went off in St. Louis? We provided those.”
“Why?” Dave asked.
“Part of the plan. My dad traded those religious wingnuts the bombs in exchange for giving us control of the city. Can you believe they wanted MOABs? Pious my ass. Fucking Jesus freaks, blaming all their shit on a god instead of taking the heat themselves.”
“What’s a MOAB?”
“Massive Ordnance Air Blast. Or Mother Of All Bombs, unofficially. They’re big, just know that. Too big for taking down a few sections of fence.”
“Okay,” Dave continued, “but all this is part of what plan?”
“Don’t worry about the specifics. The important thing is that we control both St. Louis and Kansas City now.”
“You took Kansas City too?”
“All part of the same effort,” Calvin replied. “There is no guard, not anymore. Only us.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because there’s something about you. I can te
ll. I have that ability, to be able to identify people with potential. My father doesn’t have it, although he thinks he does. My brother wouldn’t know potential if it bit him on the ass.”
“What’s so special about me?”
“Peterson wasn’t exactly Rambo, but he could sure as hell handle himself. It wasn’t an accident you took him out as easily as you did.”
Dave shrugged.
Calvin continued. “The rest of those sheep back there, they just kept their mouths shut. They did as they were told. We need those people too, don’t get me wrong, but they’re grunts. Useful idiots who’ll work and do as they’re told.”
“If I’m not like the rest of those so-called sheep back there, then doesn’t that make me a threat?”
Calvin chuckled. “My father would think so, but he’s short-sighted. I see somebody like you and I see an asset.” He glanced at Dave. “You ever hear of Julian Rotter?”
“No.”
“Back in the fifties he came up with this idea called a ‘locus of control’. People with an internal locus of control believe they are in control of their lives. People with an external locus of control are the opposite. They’re living in a world where they have no control, at the mercy and whim of the universe. Like sheep, herded together and told where to go.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“If there’s one thing you need to know about my father is that he loves his rules. And more than his rules, he loves enforcing them. He’s a sadist, a dictator. A small-minded man with a big attitude. Always has been. He’s Adolf Hitler for the new world.”
“But you don’t see things that way.”
Calvin grinned wide. “Bingo! You’re sharp, Porter.”
“Why again are you telling me all this?”
“Because I want control of things. Simple as that.”
“And you’re going to take it away from your father?”
“With your help.”
“And if I say no?” Dave asked. “What happens to me then?”
“Why would you say no? There’s nothing left for you. Your girl’s dead and the guard is gone. I’m all you have left.”
“So you’ll let me go if I say no?”
“C’mon, Porter. You know better than that.”
“That doesn’t leave me much choice.”
“Of course it does. You just don’t like the choices.”
Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands Page 11