Wall: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (The Traveler Book 3)

by Tom Abrahams

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  OCTOBER 26, 2037, 12:30 AM

  SCOURGE +5 YEARS

  PALO DURO CANYON, TEXAS

  The thunder snapped and rumbled an instant after a bolt of lightning targeted a lonely mesquite tree on the canyon floor. The tree caught fire, the flames crackling as they devoured the wood.

  The sweet, rich smell burned in the cold air. It reminded Battle of the many fall evenings he would barbecue on the back porch with Sylvia and Wesson. He didn’t grill, even though he had one with a direct line to natural gas. He didn’t like the taste. Instead, he’d take mesquite chips and burn them over charcoal in a tin pot. Then he’d pour it into a big stainless basin, put a grate on top of it, and cover the grate with red meat.

  Smell was the most powerful memory trigger. Battle inhaled deeply, enjoyed the scent for an instant, and then powered his fist into the recon posse boss’s stomach.

  All of the air left the boss’s lungs. “Oooooof,” he spat and then gagged, trying to catch his breath.

  “Aren’t you glad you didn’t kill this one?” asked Paagal, standing watch over the interrogation. The operator asked the questions and Battle provided the muscle. They were a quarter mile from the main camp, near a thin trail of water that ran along the floor. In the rainy season it could swell to a river. For now it was not much more than a trickling creek bed.

  The boss was tied to a tree, his hands knotted around the back of the trunk, his ankles bound and immobile. He stood there against the young, dying cottonwood. His head hung with his chin against his chest. Drool trailed from his lips.

  “You came to us,” said the operator. He was standing next to the boss, whispering in his left ear. “You surrendered. If you want to live, you need to give us more than your name.” He turned to Battle. “What was his name?”

  Battle rubbed his right fist with his left hand. “Frank Canton.”

  “Frank Canton,” whispered the operator. “Frank Canton. Huh. Well, Frank, now is your chance. You need to tell us what you know. Specifically, how many more teams are on their way here?”

  Battle flexed his hands, took a deep breath, and stepped back.

  The boss licked the spit from his lips, breathing through his mouth. He sounded like a child gulping a glass of juice. He lifted his head to speak.

  “They sent us for recon,” he said. Each word sounded as if he’d carefully selected its use. “That’s it. They want to know your positions and numbers.”

  “What else?” snapped the operator. “Give me more.”

  “We were the first team,” said the boss. “I don’t know how many more are coming.”

  The operator scratched his beard before running his hands through his hair. He leaned against the tree, standing behind the boss. “Good. What else?”

  “I don’t have anything else.”

  “Nothing?”

  Drool flapped from Frank Canton’s lips as he shook his head. “Nothing.” His voice dripped with resignation.

  “I don’t believe you.” The operator backed away from the boss. His eyes found Battle’s.

  Battle pursed his lips and looked over to Paagal. She nodded. Battle walked over to the tree and the man attached to it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of pliers. They were rusted at the joint and difficult to separate. Battle made a show of it. He held the instrument in one hand and then walked around the man to the back of the tree, watching Canton follow him with wide eyes.

  Before he reached for Canton’s hand, the prisoner began struggling against the ties. He squeezed his hands into tight fists, hiding his fingers in his palms.

  Battle stood there, behind the tree and out of the man’s sight. He did nothing. He knew the thought of torture, the anticipation of pain, was greater than the pain itself.

  “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” The boss suddenly found a burst of energy deep within the part of his brain that triggered fear. “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

  Battle grabbed at the man’s flailing hands and secured one of them. He pulled the man’s thumb, the easiest of the digits to separate, and pulled it free of the fist.

  The boss’s voice rocketed a pitch higher. “Please. Please, please. Stop. Stop. Stop.”

  Battle drew the open jaws of the pliers to the man’s thumb and touched the lower teeth to the spot where the edge of his nail met the skin.

  The man cried out and whimpered. “Noooo!” he said through tears. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “It better be good, Frank,” said the operator. He folded his arms across his chest. “Talk.”

  Battle held onto the man’s thumb. He removed the pliers.

  A strong gust of wind howled through the canyon. It brought with it a drop in the temperature.

  The boss shivered. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. His chest was heaving as he spoke. “I reported directly to General Roof.”

  The operator held up a satellite phone he’d retrieved from the boss. He shook it in front of the boss’s face. “With this?’

  Lightning flashed in the distance. Another crash of thunder rolled against the canyon walls. It was followed by an angry fork of light and a louder crack that ripped across the sky. The ground rumbled from the percussion.

  The boss nodded. “I told him our position. I told him we’d taken out some guards. I told—”

  The operator popped the boss on the forehead with the satellite phone. “Frank, what did he tell you? That’s what I want to know.”

  The boss’s eyes searched for the words. He swallowed and coughed on the phlegm in his throat. His eyes were glassy, and tears streaked through the dirt on his cheeks.

  Battle squeezed Canton’s thumb, and the boss tensed against his touch. His body straightened and he started wailing in protest.

  “Fray-yank,” said the operator, “c’mon now. We don’t have time to baby you. We know there’s an army heading this way. We need details. What did the general tell you?”

  Frank Canton whimpered. “You’ll kill me once I tell you,” he said. “You’ll kill me if I don’t.”

  The operator laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Frank,” he said. “You tell us what we want to know and you have a chance at living.”

  Canton’s body relaxed against the tree. He sniffed and cleared his throat.

  The operator lowered his voice and spoke slowly. “But if you don’t tell us what we want to know, we’re going to make you wish you were dead. And then we’re going to send you back to your general. What do you think he’ll do?”

  A toothy grin snaked its way across the operator’s face. A strobe of light flickered above them. The thunder crashed. He stared at Canton without blinking until the boss hung his head. Battle flexed the boss’s thumb and quickly pressed the open pliers against the nail.

  Another gust of swirling wind accelerated through the valley, and thick, cold drops of rain began to fall.

  Canton cried out in anticipation of the pain that didn’t come. His body shuddered against the tree. “Fine,” he said throughout the slobber that coated his lips and chin. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Everything.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  OCTOBER 26, 2037, 12:38 AM

  SCOURGE +5 YEARS

  INTERSTATE 45, RICHLAND, TEXAS

  Ana was spitting the spiderweb from her lips when she saw it. It flashed out of the corner of her eye, and at first she didn’t think anything of it.

  When she bent over and picked up the rifle and checked to make sure she hadn’t damaged it, she saw it again. The light swept across her face and then panned back. It was coming from inside the building. It shone directly in her face. Ana tried shielding her face with her hand despite holding the long gun. She was squinting, trying to see beyond the light. She couldn’t.

  A stern voice called from inside the building. “Drop the weapon.”

  Ana glanced down at Penny and then back at the light. “I can’t do that,” she said.

  “Drop it,” said the
voice. “Or I drop you.”

  Ana couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to a man or a woman. She bit her lower lip and raised the weapon, but kept the business end pointed away from the light. “You’re gonna have to drop me, then. I’m not giving up my weapon.”

  The light danced across Ana’s body, shifted to the stroller, and moved back to blind her again. In the moment it panned away from her face, Ana could see the large frame of the person holding the light. Her eyes couldn’t adjust quickly enough to make out more than that.

  “Who are you?” asked the voice. “Why are you here?”

  “Who are you?” asked Ana. “Can you get that light out of my eyes? I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s the point. Give me your name.”

  “Ana.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Ana sighed. “My car died.”

  There was a pause before the voice responded. “You have a car?” The question was laced with confusion.

  “I did,” said Ana. “It’s overheated.”

  “Why do you have a gun like that?”

  “Protection,” Ana said incredulously. “Why do you have yours?”

  The light went dark and Ana blinked past the afterimage until she could see a tall, broad-shouldered woman standing feet from her. She was inside the building at one of the broken windows. There was the hint of a sweetly accented sour odor coming from the building’s interior.

  The woman’s hair was short and matted to her head. Her voice resonated with depth when she spoke. “I’m Michelle,” she said. “I live here.”

  The woman, who must have stood six feet tall, was wearing a filthy tight-fitting Longhorns T-shirt and sweatpants torn at the knees. She was barefoot and was holding a hand-crank flashlight. Ana slowly lowered the weapon and nodded at the building. “This is your home?”

  Michelle glanced at the rifle and then at Penny. “For a few weeks,” she said. “Who are you running from?”

  Ana looked over her shoulder. “Could I come inside, please? I don’t like being out here.”

  Michelle took a step back from the window. “Leave the gun at the door and you can come inside.”

  Ana rolled Penny in through the front door. She laid the gun and her backpack at the entry, unloaded her pack, and gave Penny the lone bottle she’d brought. Michelle stood watch from a distance.

  Ana looked around the space. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but the foul odor was stronger. It smelled like spoiled meat. She walked toward Michelle, trying not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “You’re alone?”

  Michelle nodded. “For a while now.”

  “I’m running from everyone,” she said. “The Cartel mainly.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “The Wall.”

  Michelle’s eyes widened. Even in the dark, Ana could see the surprise on her face. “Why?”

  Ana looked down at her feet. “I need a fresh start,” she said. “Long story.”

  Her eyes having adjusted to the darkness, she could see hints of Michelle’s lifestyle. The place looked like the homeless encampments Ana used to see under highway overpasses or along the banks of Buffalo Bayou in downtown Houston. There were scraps of food, animal carcasses, and piles of clothing cluttering the floor.

  Michelle frowned. “It’s dangerous along the Wall,” she said. “You shouldn’t go there alone.”

  “I’m not.”

  The woman licked her lips. “Your baby doesn’t count.”

  “I’m going to the canyon,” Ana clarified. “The Dwellers will help me.”

  Michelle laughed. “Dwellers?” she said. “They don’t exist anymore. The Cartel killed them off.”

  Ana planted her hands on her hips. “Who told you that?”

  “Everybody. It’s a fact. Dwellers are a myth.”

  “No,” Ana said softly. “They’re not. They live in the canyon. They have passage to the wall. They’re about to overthrow the Cartel.”

  Michelle took another step back. She was shaking her head. “I don’t believe you. That can’t be.”

  “Michelle,” Ana said, stepping forward, “it is true. I know because the Dwellers recruited me to help them.”

  Michelle backed up again. She vigorously cranked the flashlight before turning it on and shining it in Ana’s eyes. “Who are you really? What do you want from me?”

  Ana stopped her approach and tried shielding her eyes with her hands. “I don’t want anything from you. I was looking—”

  “I’ve been here by myself for months. I haven’t seen a soul. Then you show up with your rifle and your lies. It doesn’t make sense. Something’s up. You need to leave.”

  Ana waved her hands. “I promise you, I am who I say I am. Wait…how long have you been here?”

  “You need to leave,” said Michelle. “I don’t need a liar in my home. I’ve had liars here before. There was one the other day. I had to stop his lies.”

  “I thought you said nobody had been here for—”

  Michelle flashed the light toward the door. Her voice was forceful and sharp. “You need to leave before something happens.”

  Ana looked over her shoulder, following the beam of light. In the corner, behind the door where she’d entered, was a dead, half-eaten animal. Ana squinted and focused on the remains, trying to identify what kind of animal it was. The bones looked familiar. The light moved away from the corner and back toward her. She turned to Michelle.

  “What would happen?” she asked. “It’s you and me and my baby. I don’t want anything from you.”

  The woman was pacing. She started muttering to herself in a high-pitched, whiny voice. “I told you not to let them in,” she rambled. “You insisted. This is your fault.”

  Ana took a step back toward Penny, keeping her eyes on the woman. “Michelle?”

  Michelle kept muttering, the voice deeper this time. “Don’t blame me for this. I’m not the one who let the last one inside. I’m not the one who believes the lying liars.” She was shaking her finger at the air as she marched.

  Ana looked toward the door. Her rifle was there. It was a few steps away, but she calculated she could get to it, release the safety, and take aim before Michelle closed the distance. She glanced back at Michelle, who was still in her trance, and made her move.

  She bolted to her right and dove at the rifle, grabbing it with one hand and sliding the safety lever down with the other. She slid on the floor, her back hitting the frame at the door as she turned around to level the heavy assault rifle at Michelle. She wasn’t fast enough.

  Michelle was already on her by the time Ana turned halfway. She grabbed Ana with her thick, muscular hands and pulled her from the floor. Ana dropped the weapon, which slid across the floor. Michelle withdrew one hand and wrapped her arm tightly around Ana’s neck. She squeezed and pulled back to lift Ana’s feet from the floor.

  “You can’t be trusted,” Michelle grunted through her clenched teeth. “You have to go.”

  Ana grabbed at Michelle’s mighty forearm and failed to pull it from her throat. She tried kicking her feet backward, hoping to catch Michelle in the knee or groin. That didn’t work either.

  When Michelle turned her body, wrenching Ana from side to side, Ana caught her feet on the wall next to the door. Michelle leaned forward for an instant, and Ana, on the verge of losing consciousness, planted both of her feet and shoved backward as hard as she could. She timed it perfectly.

  Michelle was stepping back at the moment Ana kicked. The momentum threw Michelle off balance and she stumbled backward. She tripped, lost her grip on Ana, and landed hard on her back, smacking her head against the floor.

  Ana rolled to the floor on her side, close to where the rifle stopped its bounce. She grabbed it without turning to find Michelle and rolled onto her back. Sitting up and pulling the rifle to her shoulder, she scanned the room for the giant.

  Michelle was five feet from her, lying on the floor, dazed, her legs splayed such that the black bottoms
of her feet faced Ana.

  Recognizing that she had the momentary advantage, Ana pushed herself to her feet. She backed away from Michelle and stepped to her daughter.

  Penny was surprisingly content, still sucking on her near empty bottle. She’d need a diaper change.

  Ana smiled at her daughter and tilted her head. Her neck throbbed. Her shoulder was sore. Swallowing was tinged with discomfort.

  She stepped to Michelle, the rifle pointed squarely at the Amazonian’s chest, making certain she was out of the woman’s long reach. She stood watch as Michelle’s haze evaporated.

  “This isn’t fair,” moaned the woman. Her eyes were squeezed shut. “You’re a liar. You should be gone.”

  Ana tightened her grip on the rifle and lowered her eye to the sight. She rested her finger on the trigger.

  Michelle turned her head toward Ana and opened her eyes. She started to speak.

  Ana tapped the trigger long enough to silence Michelle. She twitched reflexively, stiffened, and relaxed as if her body would sink into the floor.

  Penny started crying and dropped her bottle. It bounced on the floor and rolled to a stop at Michelle’s foot.

  Ana heard the baby crying but didn’t listen. She stood over her latest victim. When she’d awoken that morning, she’d never taken a life. Now she’d taken six, maybe seven, lives and killing Michelle had been way too easy. She’d not hesitated.

  Ana stood in the dark, watching the blood drain from Michelle’s body, her blood appearing black on the floor. Then it hit her; the animal in the corner. She knew what it was.

  She scoured the floor for the flashlight. Michelle had dropped it or thrown it when she moved to attack her. Ana found it on the floor and thumbed on the bright white LED beam.

  She panned the light around the room, stopping at the piles of clothes, the small mounds of bones and decaying flesh she now saw were swarming with flies. The bile rising in her aching throat, she walked toward the animal carcass by the door.

  Her hand trembled and she aimed the beam at the half-eaten animal. Except, what she found partially clothed in the corner wasn’t an animal. It was human.