To Cross a Wasteland

by Phillip D Granath

  “Former Councilman Murphy has been permanently barred from this chamber,” Neal stated to no one in particular.

  Coal noticed most of the Council’s eyes now rested on that chair. He hadn’t sat in it for years, and it seemed as if his ghost was still enough to unnerve all of them. Murphy’s break from the council had been sudden, violent and well planned. He was now the single most powerful man in town. He controlled the water tower and the pump. He was the one making water chits now and kept an army of thugs on hand. Even Coal had taken a job from him now and again when someone Murphy wanted dead decides the desert was a safer bet.

  Coal shook his head and stood. “Well folks, it seems our business has concluded then,” he said and began climbing the stairs out of the chamber.

  When he reached the doors, a little girl in a faded blue dress peeked in from behind the door frame. Coal stopped. She peeked out at him, her eyes huge, like a rabbit she was ready to jump. Her cheeks were sunken, she was skinny. Coal put his head down and shook it, then looked up at her again.

  “Fuck!” he shouted at the little girl, and she ran away in terror.

  Coal paused, took a deep breath and then spoke. “The chuck wagon will be by tomorrow morning. Let no one say I ever failed to pay my fucking taxes,” he shouted and walked out.

  “Thank you, Coal!” Wadsworth said, her voice choked with tears and filled with relief from behind him.

  “We will pay you back for the bounty. We owe you,” Jackson added.

  “God damn right you do, big time!” Coal shouted, never looking back.

  Miles

  Anna was awake early, even earlier than usual. Kyle rolled over in time to see her pull on her jeans and a faded blue scrub top. He smiled just enjoying the view. The last thing she put on was a reflective vest with a red cross sewn on the back. Kyle knew that meant she was going out to make rounds and that always made him nervous.

  “Morning cowboy,” she said as she laced up her boots.

  Kyle smiled again. “Morning love,” he replied.

  Kyle noticed she had arranged all of the pill bottles up on the desktop. The thought of her wandering around town seemed that much more dangerous now. As he watched she scooped up a pair of pill bottles, held them up considering them and then grabbed a third as well. She tossed them into her bag, a green daypack with a similar sewn on red cross. She was so happy she hummed softly to herself.

  “Anna, before you go we need to talk,” Kyle said.

  She turned and looked at him and smiled. “Yeah babe?”

  He tried to choose his words carefully, knowing this would be a touchy subject. “So these pills, well this is pretty valuable stuff, right? I mean no one around here has had anything like this for a long time,” Anna frowned at him and crossed her arms, not a good sign.

  “I’m just saying someone could make a lot of chits off these, trade for whatever they wanted at the Hub.”

  Anna cut him off. “We aren’t selling them,” her tone left no room for debate.

  “Sweetheart that thought never crossed my mind,” at least for those pills, so technically that wasn’t a lie. “What I’m saying is, to other people, these could be very valuable. Isn’t that right?” Kyle asked.

  “Not as valuable as they would be to someone dying of infection,” Anna snapped. This wasn’t going well.

  “No of course not love, but hear me out. The kind of people that would trade away valuable medicine, they are the same people that wouldn’t hesitate to steal pills from the sick or even kill for them if they had too,” Kyle said, with more than a touch of guilt.

  “We have been through this. I’m wearing the stupid vest now and the bag with the red cross. I’m always bringing Dante and a few others along on every trip out now. Everybody knows we are here to help, nobody would mess with us,” she said, her tone more annoyed now than mad.

  “That’s perfect love, I’m glad to hear it. But follow my logic here for a moment. You go out today and see a few sick people. You hand out a few of our new magic pills. You save some lives, people are up and dancing for joy the next day. Then you do the same tomorrow and again the next day. How long before somebody tells the wrong person that you’re handing out real medicine? Not just the herbal, all natural crap we have been. How long before we have real hard up folks trying to break in here every night?” Kyle asked.

  “We have walls, and Dante and his guys for Security and…,” Anna replied, but it was Kyle’s turn to cut her off.

  “We, that’s right we have walls. No not walls sweetie, let’s be honest, their R.V.s, and yes we have security. But the people you’ll go out and visit today don’t,” Kyle said sharply. “No one will be guarding them when they sleep. It won’t take a genius to figure out they can just follow you around and after you leave rob your patients of whatever meds you left them. Maybe beating them, or even killing them in the process.”

  Anna looked at him her eyes wide. It was obvious she hadn’t considered the dangers that they now faced. It was typical Anna, she only saw the potential for good in every situation, the potential for helping others, not the risk. It was one of the things Kyle loved about her. It was also the biggest things he feared. She sat down heavily in the office chair. After a moment of silence, she spoke.

  “What do we do then? Just give them to patients that come to the clinic? Then swear them to secrecy?” she asked.

  “No good love. You know a lot of the folks we get in here are on the bitter edge and desperation can make people do bad things. Someone would talk eventually. Besides, we get plenty of Murphy’s men in here and those Black Jackets, which aren’t much better,” Kyle said.

  “We are going to use these to help people, Kyle, even if it means we have to take some risks in doing it,” Anna said, her voice full of determination.

  Kyle stood with just the sheet wrapped around him as he crossed the room and stood in front of her, he rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. “We will, we just have to figure out a way to do it that doesn’t get anybody hurt. If you get yourself killed, how much worse would it be for these people you are trying to save?”

  She shook her head and looked up at him. “You're right, I know,” she said. “Help me find a way?”

  Kyle smiled down at her. “Always my love, always.”

  It was Anna though who figured out a solution. Almost a year ago the clinic had tried their hand at folk remedies. Though she had been quick to point out that they had seen almost no tangible results they still kept a small amount of powdered root of this and dried leaves of that on hand. It seemed to make some of their patients feel better to be given anything. Occasionally some even improved, at least for a little while. Anna called it the placebo effect, Kyle liked to think of it as simply giving them hope.

  Working a large mortar and pestle, that they had for a time used to grind roots, Kyle now ground dozens of pills into powder. Once Anna deemed the powdered medicine fine enough she carefully poured the powder onto an old scale, another left over from their previous experimenting. She carefully weighed each three times, then poured the now powdered medicines into white envelopes. Before sealing each envelope, they added a few pinches of the dried plant leaves or roots they still had on hand.

  “That’s a good idea,” Kyle told her. “If anyone takes a close enough look at them, they’ll think they are looking at some type of powdered root or flower or something.”

  “And keeping with the theme, we’ll label each with the name of a plant. Let’s just make sure the first few letters of the actual meds match the name. I would hate to get anything confused and kill someone by accident,” Anna said as she set a stack of horticulture books down on the desktop. Kyle had borrowed them from Mile’s ever-expanding library and had meant to return them months ago.

  Both Anna and Kyle sat down across the desk from one another, the dozen or so envelopes of powdered medicine in between them. Kyle had clearly underestimated the number of pills he had brought home. The pills they had ground hadn’t even put
a dent in their stockpile, but his forearms already ached from working the pestle.

  They each settled down to the task working in silence. Kyle loved these moments when it was just the two of them, comfortable enough with each other to be absolutely silent. After flipping through a few chapters, Kyle giggled to himself and announced. “I found one. Levofloxacin will be Leycesteria formosa,” Kyle said proudly.

  Anna looked up. “That sounds definitely scientific enough, what is it actually?”

  “Himalayan Honeysuckle, I like it, the description reminds me of you,” Kyle added with a grin.

  “How is that?” Anna asked, not looking up from her reading.

  “It has a sweet nectar and small beautiful flowers. Yet grows in the Himalayas and other high altitude, desolate areas. It sounds like you, beautiful but only found in such a godforsaken place like this,” he said with a grin.

  Anna shook her head but smiled anyway. “Cheese ball,” she said.

  Kyle laughed and began labeling all of the Levofloxacin envelopes.

  “And I believe I have found one for you,” Anna said, Kyle stopped to look up as she spoke.

  “Amoxicillin can be Amorphophallus. It’s Greek and named for an oddly shaped flower. The Greek amorphos, of course, meaning misshapen and phallos which is, of course, refering to a penis,” Anna said smiling at him sweetly as she fought back a laugh.

  Kyle did not laugh.

  A half an hour later Kyle and Anna stepped outside of the Clinic gates. Anna carrying her bag and wearing the vest with the red cross. Kyle had Mile’s books slung underneath his arm, and his magnum stuck in his belt.

  Four men stood in front of the gate, Including Dante. “Morning,” Dante said with a smile when he saw them. “Or should I say afternoon,” the big man added as he craned his neck skyward. Most days Anna’s rounds started before noon, to keep them out of the heat for as long as possible. That was several hours passed now.

  “Sorry Dante, guys, Kyle brought in some more herbs last night,” she paused, awkwardly forming the lie as she spoke. “We didn’t get a chance to grind them up until this morning. We think they could really help,” she stopped speaking, suddenly afraid she would start to babble.

  “Yeah I’m sure that’s why you two slept in so late,” Dante replied giving Kyle a knowing grin and a wink.

  Kyle smiled back. “She speaks the truth, I brought home an Amorphophallus last night, it’s Greek.”

  Kyle, Dante and several of the men laughed out loud. “I bet it is,” Dante choked out.

  Anna stared straight at the ground and turned a dark shade of red. “Are we ready to go, please?”

  “You bet Boss lady,” Dante replied. With that, the group turned and began making their way towards Main Street. The four security men walked around Anna and Kyle. Dante was carrying a baseball bat, two other men carried pieces of pipe and the last a 6-foot length of chain. Anna had never been attacked on any of these trips, but she had a few close calls. Then a few months ago a man had taken her last medical bag, threatening her at knifepoint. Kyle hadn’t been with her, but he was more shaken by it than Anna had been. The next day Dante had begun escorting her and had been protecting her ever since.

  “This is where I get off,” Kyle said. As the group reached Main Street. He reached over and kissed Anna gingerly on the cheek and took the chance to whisper. “Remember what we talked about, be safe. Without you, this is all for nothing.”

  She looked at him and gave a little smile. She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  With that Kyle left the little group behind. Anna would move up Main Street, stopping at the Hub. They would linger there and see if anyone of the merchants or customers approached them. After that, they would leave Main Street behind and visit a handful of families and patients that Anna saw regularly. Kyle tried to put her out of his mind as he began making his way towards Mile’s place on the edge of town.

  Traveling across town off of Main Street was always dangerous. A full two-thirds of the buildings had been burned at some point. Larger buildings had sagged and often collapsed creating dead-end alleyways. Taking a wrong turn could find you boxed in, that could be deadly. Other people of course were the biggest danger. At a casual glance most streets would look deserted, but there were always a few sets of eyes watching. They crouched in empty doorways or in old cars. They watched and waited, looking for opportunity, any opportunity. Kyle didn’t blame them; it was the way of the world now. Take what you could, when you could, or maybe starve to death.

  Most carried all of their worldly belongings on them, in thick coats or tattered bags. Some pushed shopping carts down the street. A few had made homes. Haphazard structures in old buildings or vehicles. A safe place to lay with walls between them and the dangers of the night. One three-storied building downtown had converted its whole roof to living space. A large group of people, families taking the high ground so to speak, relying on one of the oldest tactics known to man for protection. Because that’s what we have become Kyle thought, not for the first time, medieval.

  Within a half hour Kyle stood in front of a massive brick structure on the very edge of town. It was by far the largest building in town and had held up better than most. Back when it was built, over 150 years ago it would’ve housed 4 steam-driven locomotives and all the associated gigantic equipment it took to keep them running. At some point it had been converted into a museum for rail and other steam driven machinery, the technologies that had helped make westward expansion possible. At least that’s what a large brass plaque had read on the front of the building, before Kyle had helped Miles tear it off the wall so the two of them could melt it down.

  Kyle stepped through the gaping hole that he had helped knock through the wall over a decade ago. It was almost 2 stories tall and half as wide. It had gotten even more jagged over the years as bits or mortar and brick still fell occasionally and littered the ground. The asphalt just outside was still marred by deep drag marks where the massive pump had been pulled out. Kyle shook his head as he considered it, the town’s greatest achievement, had helped make it a prison.

  Between the massive hole and the rows of windows placed high along the walls, most now just empty holes themselves, the massive structure was remarkably well lit inside. As Kyle moved further in, he made his way through the abandoned displays. One in particular always made him pause, a wide circle of various antique mining equipment surrounded a now empty, 20-foot concrete pad. This is where the massive 30-ton pump had once stood. The dozens of rusting sentinels all stood taller than Kyle, they loomed over him like some kind of steam-powered Stonehenge. Kyle always felt a little uneasy here, like they somehow blamed him for stealing their god, their idol of engineering.

  “It wasn’t my idea boys, and if it helps the whole plan kinda went to shit on us,” Kyle said as he walked passed their silent judgment. Damn, I really need to stop talking to inanimate objects, he considered. Maybe it's okay when alone out in the desert but back in town somebody will notice.

  “Don’t blame this mess on me!” a voice boomed from the shadows. Kyle jumped back a few feet, he awkwardly reached for the magnum in his belt, but the front site caught, and he couldn’t pull it free. He was lucky he didn’t shoot himself.

  Miles stepped from behind one of the displays, leaning heavily against it. He had a single crutch under one arm and one of his pipe guns cradled in the other. He gave Kyle a toothy grin.

  “Damn it, Miles! That’s a good way to get shot,” Kyle yelled taking his hand from the revolver, still stuck in his rope belt.

  Miles chuckled, “Yeah you were awfully quick on the draw there Pecos Pete. I’m surprised you didn’t drill me twice before you could stop yourself.”

  The old man was dark skinned and weathered, slender in the way most men get when they age. He had retired with 30 years working for the railroad even before the collapse. Kyle could only guess he had to be knocking on the door to 70 if not there already. This railyard turned
museum had been a dream retirement job for him, and he still wore rail worker blue bib overalls every day.

  “Talking to my machines again?” the old man asked in a mocking tone.

  “No…I was just…talking to myself. It helps me think,” Kyle replied awkwardly.

  “Aaaahhhhh,” Mile’s nodded but still smiled.

  The old man turned and began walking further back into the museum. He rested most of his weight heavily on the crutch. His right leg was awkwardly straight, held that way by a metal brace. Kyle quickly caught up to him and slowed his pace to walk beside his friend. He knew better than to offer him help, though he knew each step sent shivers of pain up the old man’s ruined leg. His face never showed the pain, but every few step he would take a quick breath or close his eyes for a few heartbeats before continuing on.

  The museum’s centerpiece had been a dozen railcars, coupled together on four sets of tracks. According to Miles, they represented the different ages in the history of rail. The men approached the closest set of cars, a sleek metal sided passenger car from the 1950s. Miles stepped awkwardly up to the rear door, a heavily reinforced addition, just like the sheet metal covering all of the windows. The old man knocked on the door exactly five times and waited. A moment later Kyle heard the scrape of metal, and a small viewport opened. A series of metal clicks followed as a dozen bolts were thrown open and a small Spanish boy stood in the open doorway. His face lit up as he saw Kyle.

  “Hello Juan,” Kyle said grinning back. The boy didn’t reply; in fact, he had never spoken as far as either man could tell.

  Once inside the door was re-secured, Miles placed his pipe gun in a rack next to three others and then loudly slumped down into an old easy chair. He let out a long sigh of relief. Juan carried over a wooden stool and Miles propped his leg up on it, nodding in thanks to the boy. Miles had found Juan cowering in the corner of the museum one night, dehydrated and starving to death. Miles took the boy in and cared for him as if Juan had been his own grandson. That had been almost three years ago now. At first, they thought Juan had been a mute, but after Anna examined him, she had determined that to be unlikely. It was probably more psychological trauma that kept the boy from speaking.