To Cross a Wasteland

by Phillip D Granath

  The Greasers fell into their routine, Mile’s watching and offering advice. For the most part, these were good men he thought. But he still couldn’t trust them, not with something like this. The pump was running on borrowed time and with it the town. They had all been very lucky to get this many years out of her, what would they do for water now? He didn’t know, one thing he was certain of though was that he wasn’t going to tell anyone, not until he had some kind of plan on how to fix it.

  Coal hadn’t been hard to find. Kyle had headed for the ranch a little after noon, but after talking to a patrol of Black Jackets along the way, and handing out a few tears, they had directed him to the city council building. Now he sat on the curb across the street waiting, the guards having denied him entry and eyeing his shoulder holstered magnum warily.

  The Scavenger didn’t know if Coal would sell him a horse or not, or if Kyle could even afford what Coal would want for one, but he had to ask, so at the very least he could tell Anna truthfully that he had tried. Just then Coal walked from the building, he wore a leather duster and his rifle on his shouldered. Kyle stood and waited across the street until Coal walked out past the guards and stepped outside of the barbed wire fence.

  “Hi Coal," Kyle awkwardly called from across the street.

  “Did you come here to kill me?” Coal asked.

  “What? No, no I wanted to talk to you," Kyle said surprised.

  “Well, you look pretty damn nervous for somebody that just wants to talk, but we can talk. That’s fine too," Coal said with a nod.

  Kyle realized then just how tense he was; his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Maybe he could see why Coal thought he was there to pick a fight. The two hadn’t parted on best of terms either.

  “You want to maybe walk with me for a bit or do you want to keep talking here, across the street from each other like this?” the Indian asked.

  “How about we walk down to the Hub, I’ll buy you a drink?” Kyle offered.

  “I never turn down a free drink," Coal replied, and the two men turned and began walking down the street. They walked for a while before Coal spoke, “I’m glad to see you made it back to town all right,"

  “I did, and before you ask, I haven’t told anyone that we crossed paths or that we ran into, you know with, them others," Kyle began.

  “I know you haven’t, if you had I would have heard about it already," Coal replied. “Though I did hear a story going around about how some batshit crazy Scav walks into Murphs, throws some serious trade goods down and then bitch slaps Murphy’s personal jolly green giant. Then instead of killing him, Murphy cuts a deal with this guy making him maybe, I don’t know the third richest guy in town? That’s behind me of course,"

  “Well to be fair, I didn’t bitch slap anybody. At least not physically, maybe figuratively," Kyle replied, starting to grin.

  “It was pretty surreal come to think about it," Kyle admitted.

  “Which is why I’m buying the first drink," Coal said with a laugh.

  Within a few minutes, the pair found themselves in front of one of the Hub’s juice bars. Though Kyle had to admit calling the place a bar gave it a little more credit than it deserved. The hub merchants rented the space out on a weekly basis to whoever had the latest “Juice” concoction to sell. The men sat on rusted folding chairs around one of a half-dozen overturned steel barrels that acted as tables. The owner of which was an aged and pocked faced man that continually wrung his hands together nervously watched them. As soon as the pair sat down, he eyed them suspiciously and then sent over a young girl to see what they wanted.

  “Are you two customers? Those seats are for customers," she said, her tone drifting somewhere between accusation and hope.

  “We’re paying," Kyle replied, and Coal dropped a pair of chits on the drum to emphasise the point.

  “Well in that case, what are you paying for?” the girl asked with a smile, she leaned forward and pulled the front of the dress down revealing her pert breasts.

  “Drinks, were paying for drinks," Kyle blurted, the serving girl frowned and turned to look at Coal pointedly.

  “Hey I got eight more just like those at home, just the juice sweetheart," Coal replied without even looking at her.

  If the girl took offense Kyle couldn’t tell, she just turned and went back to the owner who was already mixing their drinks from several unmarked bottles. She was probably the owner’s wife, though considering the age difference she could have been his daughter just as easily Kyle decided.

  “So, what do we have to talk about?” Coal asked. “It’s a little soon to be reminiscing about our adventures in the desert,"

  “Well, as you heard I have come into some, well some high-end trade goods lately," Kyle began.

  “Drugs, word around town is that you are supplying Murphy with drugs," Coal corrected.

  “Yeah, that’s true," Kyle said.

  “Do I have to even guess where you found them?” Coal asked.

  “No, no you don’t," Kyle said a bit embarrassed.

  “I guess that “Facility” out there wasn’t a total loss after all then?” Coal asked with a grin.

  Just at that moment the serving girl arrived and set down two glasses, each filled with a red colored liquid. She scooped up the chits and turned without another word. Though the interruption gave Kyle a much needed moment to try and decide how to reply to Coal. But the Indian read the Scavenger’s face clearly enough.

  “Relax Kyle. If you had mentioned the drugs, especially when we first met, I probably would have killed you for them," Coal said taking a tentative sip of his “Juice.”

  Kyle eyed Coal with a new light, no not a new light, it was the same light everyone else saw him in. The hard-eyed killer. Had this been a mistake, how could he have ever considered this man a friend?

  “Hell, you probably saved both of our lives by not saying anything. You may have noticed; I don’t do well when it comes to moderation. Hell, I would have felt obligated to try a sample of whatever it was you found out there and well, lots of opportunities for that story to not end well. Me wildly hallucinating, with guns, in the middle of the desert, raider ambushes around every corner, wild Indian encounters, my lucky mule, well you get my point. Again, probably the best you didn’t say anything.”

  “Maybe so," Kyle admitted.

  “So, back to the original question," Coal prompted.

  “Well, I’m in the market for horses Coal," Kyle said.

  “Why? I’ve seen you ride and while horse flesh isn’t bad eating, I’ll admit, it’s just so damn expensive these days compared to most things. Believe me, I know; I kill most of the things eaten in these parts.”

  “I don’t plan to ride them or eat them Coal, I want to use them to pull a couple of carts," Kyle said slowly.

  “Carts full of what?” Coal asked.

  “Water mostly and people," was Kyle reply.

  Coal’s eyes shot up at that and took a quick drink of his juice, so Kyle did the same. It tasted like watered down battery acid coupled with the strong aftertaste and smell of piss, Kyle spit most of it out.

  “Why come to me, seems your new business partner has more horses than I do?” Coal asked.

  “Because I don’t want him to know I’m buying horses," Kyle said simply.

  Coal laughed loudly. “Damn Kyle here I thought you was one of the straightest arrows I have run across in a long ass time. I would never have guessed you would be the one doing the backstabbing in a deal with old Murphy. That you would cut and run. That is what you’re planning then I’m assuming?”

  “Those are the broad strokes of it, yeah," Kyle admitted a little sheepishly.

  “So that plan you mentioned, you think you finally have enough water cached to try and ride out of the wastes?” Coal asked eyeing the Scavenger closely.

  “With what Murphy has paid me, now, yeah I do," Kyle said and just by his tone Coal didn’t doubt him.

  “Ok, let’s say I sell you a few ponies,
where you headed with them?” the Indian asked.

  “Another thing I hoped maybe you would be able to help me with," Kyle replied spreading his hands.

  Coal laughed out loud and smacked the table steel table top. “Damn Kyle when did you get all…daring and shit?”

  “I guess spending two days with you was enough," Kyle replied.

  “I would hate to think what would happen if we spent a week together then," Coal said and then eyed the Scavenger for a few tense moments. Kyle realized the Indian was trying to decide something and remained quiet.

  “Well Kyle as it just so happens, I have recently taken on another roll, I mean other than Businessman, Hunting Guide and apparently Hitman. I’ve recently made it my business to fuck with anything the esteemed councilman Murphy shows an interest in. Seems like that includes you, so this is what I’m proposing. Dinner, tomorrow night," Coal said.

  “Dinner?” Kyle asked confused.

  “Yeah, you bring the good doctor, you’ll get a chance to meet the rest of my family, and we can talk some details. I always set aside some choice cuts of meat for myself and the wives, I think it would be nice to have over company for a change," Coal said.

  But in trut, Coal couldn’t remember if he and his wives had ever sat down for a meal together, at least not all at the same time. But hey wasn’t this supposed to be part of domestic life? Keeping up appearances for the neighbors.

  “Yeah, sure Coal. Does this mean you’ll sell me the horses?” Kyle asked.

  “No, not yet, I’m a little leery of trusting my animals to you, at least right now. The first thing I’ll want is to make sure you have figured out where in the hell you are heading before I decide. I won’t let some fool lead them into the desert to die. He may have it coming, but they sure don’t. That will be the first thing we need to talk about, after dinner of course and definitely not out here in the open," Coal looked around suspiciously.

  The shadows of the day were getting long, and the crowd in the Hub had started to pick up. Some would come in for trading, while others would just be looking for a relatively safe place to wait out the night. Many would recognize Coal, and almost all would take Murphy’s chits given the chance.

  “Okay Coal sounds good. I’ll bring along a few maps, help with the planning," Kyle volunteered.

  “Maps, sure, bring some maps," Coal said standing.

  “Tomorrow night then," Kyle said standing also.

  “Try not to get yourself killed between now and then," Coal said over his shoulder as he walked away.

  “Yeah, you too," Kyle replied.

  It was just turning dark by the time Mile’s limped his way home. Though the trip across town had been much shorter than it usually was, Kyle’s pills had done a lot to dull his ever-throbbing leg. Brooklyn hadn’t taken Miles demand to limit the pump’s use very well. For a moment Miles thought it could have come to blows, but Brooklyn was smart enough to realize he couldn’t lay a hand on Miles or the Greasers. Something like that would have drawn Murphy’s attention, and Miles was all but certain now that Brooklyn was skimming water from the kingpin’s operation. Brooklyn would keep his mouth shut, the pump would run shorter hours and hopefully in turn last longer. Miles and the Greasers would continue to be needed. The status quo would continue, at least for a while longer. Damn that was depressing he thought.

  Kyle stepped from the shadows of the museum entrance and Miles froze, his heart skipping several beats.

  “Damn it, you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?” Miles demanded. “I doubt very much you got a pill that would cure that.”

  “Sorry," Kyle said though Miles could see his grin in the shadows.

  “Yeah, I can see that. Why aren’t you waiting inside? Juan would have let you in, though admittedly the boy isn’t much for interesting conversation.”

  “I had something I brought you, wanted to show it to you first,” Kyle explained and then stepping back into the darkness of the museum wheeled out the lime green garden cart.

  Miles looked down at the cart and then back at Kyle, he stuck a finger into the Scavenger’s chest. “Fuck you, that isn’t funny.”

  “What?” Kyle asked genuinely confused as Miles pushed past him and the cart moving into the darkness of the building.

  “Miles what’s wrong?”

  Mile’s ignored Kyle's repeated questions as he hobbled on his crutch heading for his car. Kyle moved around to block the old man’s path.

  “Miles I don't’ know what your deal is, I want to see if you can help me fix that thing," Kyle pleaded.

  The old man paused considering Kyle in the darkness for a moment. Miles realized that the Scavenger probably didn’t know that Murphy hauled him around in a cart just like that one. Who would have told him? Certainly not Miles.

  “You…you really need help with it, you’re not just fucking with me?” Miles demanded.

  “Yeah, I need your help. Why would you think I was fucking with you?” Kyle replied.

  “Never mind that, let’s just say I have had a full day. Ok, pull it around to the tool car. I’m going to check on Juan, and then I’ll meet you over there," Miles said and headed for the car, leaving a confused Kyle in the darkness.

  A few minutes later the two men sat in the tool car, a boxcar used to fix broken down steam engines. It was another museum piece, and its walls were littered with, as the name implied tools. Most were rusting railroad centric devices over a hundred years old, but many more were newer pieces as Miles added to his “rolling toolbox”.

  Miles had lit several waste oil lanterns, and the pair now stared at the garden cart intently. “You want me to do what with this?” Miles asked.

  “Beef it up, reinforce it, so it’s strong enough to cross some rough terrain," Kyle replied.

  “And how much weight are you planning on putting in it?” Miles sounded skeptical.

  “A few hundred pounds maybe?” Kyle responded, doubt creeping into his own voice now.

  “You intend to pull this across hundreds of miles of rough terrain, by hand?” Miles asked.

  “How come all of your questions sound more like accusations?” Kyle countered.

  “They’re not intended to, they just sound that way because even you must realize how stupid this plan is," Miles scolded.

  “I’m…beginning to. But in my defense I may be getting a few horses, maybe," Kyle replied weakly.

  “Horses?” Miles said the word like he had never heard it before.

  “Yeah, maybe, a few," Kyle added.

  Miles sat quietly for a moment, then stood. “Come on, come with me, and grab that pry bar," the old man scooped up one of the lanterns and left the tool car. Kyle followed behind carrying the heavy pry bar.

  The two men walked from the darkness of the museum and into full night. Miles immediately hung a right and walked around the back of the massive brick structure. Against the back wall, a few badly aged wooden buildings rested. Several had collapsed entirely a few more rested at odd, unnatural angles. Kyle had only been in one of them before, it held dozens of barrels of waste oil. The oil that Mile’s used to burn in his lanterns.

  The old man stopped in front of one of the buildings. Like the others, this one tilted badly at almost a 20-degree angle. It had a set of wooden double doors held in place by a rusty lock. Kyle could tell this place hadn’t been open since before the collapse.

  “Pop that lock," Miles commanded.

  Kyle slid the bar into place, but before he could even get a firm grip on the pry bar, the lock clasp fell off of the door, pulling chunks of deteriorated wood with it. Miles made a sound in his throat, and the two of them began trying to force the door open. Between the structures awkward lean and the sand that had blown up to block the door over the years this proved more an obstacle than the lock ever had. But eventually, the door relented and swung outward on rusted hinges.

  Miles held the lamp high for Kyle to see.

  “Holy shit Miles, you have a wagon!” Kyle exclaimed.
/>
  “Yes, it’s called a rail wagon. Just a heavy duty frame really, it was used to haul rail ties back and forth from the railhead while tracks were being laid. It’s definitely strong enough to cover the type of terrain you need to. It would also be fairly easy to add a floor, sides, even a cover of some type to give you some shade," Miles explained.

  Kyle was nodding his head, this was it, this could handle the weight of the water and any extra people that couldn’t walk.

  “But Kyle, two things. First, you will need horses, no maybe about it. There is no way even a group of people could pull this thing very far. Not across anything rougher than a city street.”

  Kyle was nodding, “You’re right, I can definitely see that. What’s the second thing?” Kyle asked.

  “You have to take me and Juan with you," Miles replied.

  Kyle’s eyes left the wagon for the first time as he looked at Miles.

  “Yes, of course, but why the change of heart? You always said crossing the desert was crazy, that it was suicide," Kyle asked confused.

  “Today I found out that the pump is failing. I’m not sure how much time the town has before she goes completely, but it’s going to happen. I’m still right you know, trying to cross the desert is crazy, but staying here, now that’s suicide.”

  Until death do us…

  Coal’s wives shared a single room on the second floor of the main house. It had been a storage room for the dealership, and its only door opened out into “Coal’s bedroom” as the whole second floor had been dubbed. The four wives shared it now, each with her own double bed against one of the walls. A series of curtains had been strung between each bed and gave each girl more the illusion of privacy than actual privacy. The wall opposite the beds was lined with a series of small white fitting tables each backed by a mirror. The kind of thing you would expect to find backstage at a beauty pageant or for that matter a cheap strip club.

  Tamara found the other wives in, of course, they were always in. She could almost understand the appeal, almost feel sorry for them. These girls had come to Coal willingly and traded him their bodies for his food, his water, and his protection. They called it marriage, though she thought of it more as slavery. They stayed inside most days, surrounding themselves with distractions. Racks of pretty clothing lined the back wall beneath the room’s only small window. A small shelf held an array of books and outdated beauty magazines. Why worry about life outside of these glass walls when you could worry about “What your nail polish says about your sex life!” and of course who could worry about freedom when you had to answer “8 questions that will tell you if he is treating you right in bed!”