To Cross a Wasteland

by Phillip D Granath

Coal looked back at him, confused for a moment. “I had a fella once, an Indian fella, tell me that if an Indian receives a gift that he’s supposed to return one of greater value," Kyle explained now grinning.

  “Whoa, whoa, you can’t throw my own Indian bullshit back at me like that! That’s my bullshit! Besides nobody actually does that anymore. I mean shit I saw that on T.V. when I was a kid!” Coal complained.

  “Well I kinda like it, so I’m bringing it back," Kyle replied.

  “Fucking white man, always stealing our shit," Coal grumbled.

  “Well, what do you say?” Kyle asked extending his hand.

  The half-breed stared back at the Scavenger for a long minute, the man he couldn’t deny had saved his life. Then he looked down at his rifle, a new thought crossed his mind.

  “I’ll do it, what choice do I have…asshole," Coal replied shaking Kyle’s hand in defeat.

  “But I’m killing Murphy before we go and that one-eyed son of a bitch too," Coal added.

  “No. Absolutely not, you’ll just get yourself killed trying. You have to be alive to hold up your end of the deal. You lead us out and then when we get to wherever it is we’re going, if you still want to, you can ride back and kill whomever you want to. But not until my people are safe.”

  “Do you think Murphy is going to let us just ride away? As soon as he realizes you are cutting and running on him, he’s going to send his Rangers after us. And let me tell you, there’s no way in hell a wagon is going to outrun those boys riding hard, not without a hell of a head start. That’s why you should let me kill him first," Coal insisted.

  “You're right," Kyle admitted conceding the point.

  “Damn straight I am," Coal replied happily.

  “At least about the wagon I mean. We need something to keep Murphy and the Ranger’s occupied, just long enough to let us slip out and put some ground between us and them," Kyle replied and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

  Coal chuckled quietly and then spoke. “Holy shit, do I have an idea.”

  “Does it involve murder?” Kyle asked.

  “No… well maybe," Coal admitted.

  “What is it?” Kyle replied.

  “Hold on there boss man. You hired me to lead this expedition, and I think I know a way to maybe slip out of town while Murphy and his boys are worried about bigger things back here," Coal said nodding to himself.

  “And…?” Kyle asked annoyed.

  “And we ride out tomorrow morning, before the suns up," Coal said rolling over and pulling the sheet up over him.

  “Ride out to where?” Kyle asked skeptically.

  “East," Coal replied.

  The Nation

  The pair rode out of town before the sun even began lighting the eastern horizon. Coal on the big gray mare and Kyle riding Muley. If the Scavenger had been any kind of horseman, he imagined he would have felt a bit embarrassed riding the much shorter mule, his feet dangling just inches above the ground. But in actuality, he didn’t mind it at all. He felt like he could fall off of the mule and be almost free from the risk of busting his head wide open, something Kyle considered a real possibility. The few words of instruction Coal had provided before they had started had been true. Kyle let the mule have free rein, and Muley followed Coal’s mare happily. His shorter stride moving much faster to keep up with the larger horse, looked awkward but as Coal had promised, proved much smoother.

  They headed South at first leaving town through the old industrial area, just a few blocks away from Mile’s museum Kyle noted. They crossed a series of railroad tracks mostly covered by the shifting sand and drifted gradually east until they could make out the interstate and its abandoned cars in the half-light of the morning. It was the same road Kyle had followed home his last time out. Coal was using it as a guide now but was careful to never ventured closer than a few hundred feet.

  “That road is dangerous," Kyle remarked, the Indian’s constant silence already getting to him.

  “Full of murders and thieves hiding and just waiting to jump you," he added when Coal didn’t respond.

  “Yeah, those kids can be a bunch of jerks," Coal replied with a laugh, Kyle just shook his head embarrassed.

  They hand railed the road due East, riding into the rising sun and the Indian nation. The pair fell quickly into the pattern they had established on their last and only trip together. Coal rode ahead, his eyes constantly moving across the land. Kyle trailing just behind, mimicking the Indian’s movements but still having no real idea what he was looking for. They rode for three hours; the country around them began to rise and fall in a series of hills and shallow valleys.

  Then Coal abruptly turned left and crossed over the road. He guided them up what would have been at one point a gravel road. A large sign was posted next to it, though the words on the sign were far too faded to read, the message was clear. The three rotting corpses that hung from it said it all. Kyle was staring at the bodies and didn’t notice Coal had fallen back to ride next to him until the half-breed spoke.

  “So, what do you actually know about the Indians that live out here in the Nation?” Coal asked.

  “Well," Kyle began. “They don’t come into town, and they choose to live out here, on what used to be the reservation. They kill anybody that trespasses on to their land, usually, and in some pretty terrible ways. They especially hate Pale faces, like me. They have horses and they appear to be pretty damn well fed if the ones I’ve seen are any example and…” Kyle trailed off, searching for more but quickly realizing he had already shot his proverbial wad.

  “That’s about it I guess," Kyle finished.

  “Well, the good news is none of that is necessarily wrong," Coal said with a grin.

  “But a word of advice, don’t say, don’t refer, don’t even think of this place as a Reservation. I can’t think of a faster way to get you added to that sign out there," Coal said still grinning.

  Kyle felt his face growing even paler. “Got it, thanks," he managed to say.

  “So," Coal continued “Where did they come from, these Indians?”

  Kyle thought about his answer for a moment, looking for something deeper, but finally just replied. “Aren’t they from here? I mean, you know, that place I’m not supposed to even think about?”

  “Well, yes and no," Coal replied and then paused for a moment.

  “Okay?” Kyle prompted.

  “So, it’s like this. Back in the day, before the world all went to shit, maybe several dozen families called this place home. Some really good people and some you know, not so good. This place had its share of problems. Meth, alcohol and you know normal trailer park problems, for trailer park people. You know, like our type of people," Coal said gesturing back and forth between them. Kyle wasn’t exactly sure what the half-breed meant by that, but he thought it best not to interrupt.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is they grew up just like everybody else did. With microwaveable meals, pogo sticks and Word Championship Wrestling. They had all of the trappings of modern life," Coal said nodding his head. Kyle nodded with him and was grinning at Coal’s summation of society. Yeah, that just about included the best of what the modern world had to offer at its peak.

  “Now notice I didn’t mention anything about the normal Indian stuff. No bows or arrows, no Teepees, no walking the spirit world searching for your totem animal type of bullshit. For most of these people, the closest they ever got to that type of shit was as close as anybody else did and that was through movies and late-night T.V," Coal continued.

  “Wait, what?” Kyle asked.

  “Sure a few places, they would slap on war point, bang on some drums and dance in a circle to separate a few tourists from their money. But this wasn’t one of them places. We never did anything like that out here on this Reservation," Coal replied.

  “Ahh… you used that word, the R word," Kyle pointed out.

  “So, I did, I’m allowed, it’s our word. You just remember that," Coal said pointi
ng at him.

  “Got it, my bad, please go on," Kyle apologized.

  “So, when the lights went out, and the world went to shit, the Indians did what everybody else did. They panicked, and then they tried to find their families, and they tried to get home. For days and weeks, they walked in, one by one and in small groups, they came back here, to the Res, they came home. While cities and towns all across the country started to tear themselves apart, we out here were coming together. And think about it, nobody was like. Hey let's go on out to the Res, I’m sure they have lots of great stuff to pillage and steal. So the roving road gangs and thugs, the raiders, they passed this place right on by. We had something not a lot of places did, we had time to come together as a community as a family, to learn to grow," Coal said the last words with obvious pride.

  “A family that skins people alive," Kyle said before he could stop himself.

  “Well, every family has its own little quirks and odd traditions," Coal said with a grin.

  “My mom used to make us leave out a plate of vegetables for Santa. I always thought that was odd. Somehow it doesn’t seem quite the same thing," Kyle pointed out.

  “Well, you see that all stems back to the first few years after the collapse. Some of my people, some of the elders, in particular, saw the whole thing as a sign. A big middle finger to progress and to the white man in particular. The universe setting things back to a natural order or something like that. So they convinced the people to embrace their Indian heritage, the old ways. Their ancestors had lived off of this land, why couldn’t they? The problem is that nobody knew how. It had been like a damn 150 years since an Indian fired a bow and arrow from horseback since we had lived off the land and shit," Coal explained.

  “Wait a minute, how did they all survive? I mean those Indians we ran into seemed to be, well, like real Indians?” Kyle asked stopping his mule in its tracks and forcing Coal to do the same.

  “They learned the hard way, Kyle. Sure a few knew some bushcraft, had hunted and traveled in the desert for years. We learned everything we could from those types, but most of it we had to rediscover. The Res had a few dozen ponies, and from that, they have been able to breed up a nice sized herd, and the horses helped a lot. But when we couldn’t find food or when we couldn’t find water, people died, some years a lot of people. But those that didn’t, well they were tougher for it. And those that were just kids then, they grew up tougher, we churned us out some bad hombres, like yours truly," Coal said with a grin and kicked his horse into a walk again.

  “The reason I’m telling you all this is so that you understand. These people see themselves as honest to god wild Indians. In a few years, those born after the fall will be old enough to hold a spear and won’t have known nothing else their entire lives. In a generation, this will be the way it has always been, with nobody alive to remember anything else," Coal continued.

  “So you need to refer to these people with the proper respect. So it’s uber important for you to refer to all men as Braves, it would be an insult to call them anything else. But be careful not to refer to a boy or a teenager as a Brave. That could be considered an insult to all of the Braves, like saying the Nation’s warriors were as harmless as a bunch of children. You could find yourself called out," Coal explained.

  “Called out?” Kyle asked.

  “Called out to a fight. Just hands and feet if you’re lucky, knives if you’re not," Coal replied.

  “Braves it is," Kyle said.

  “Unless it’s an older person, then it’s Respected Elder," Coal continued.

  “Okay, Respected Elder," Kyle repeated.

  “But if they have an Indian name, then you call them by that," Coal pointed out.

  “An Indian name?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, an Indian name. Sitting Bull, Dances with Wolves, you know, usually an animal and an adjective or verb or maybe an adverb, whatever the fuck that is. A fucking Indian name," Coal said.

  “How many of them have Indian names?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t know, probably about two dozen or so," Coal replied.

  “How’ll I know who has an Indian name?” Kyle asked concerned.

  “I’ll try and point them out before we need to speak with them, just relax," Coal said reassuringly.

  “Do you have an Indian name Coal?” Kyle asked.

  “No, Indian names are only handed out by the elder council. It’s an honorific among my people, kinda like a knighthood or something. You have to be someone who has proven their worth to the nation, usually in an important position like Hunt master or Chief or something. I’m a half-breed Kyle, half of my blood is the blood of a white devil. So, no Indian name for me," Coal said simply.

  “Wait a minute, so you’re explaining this all to me, so we can what? Sit down and have a nice conversation with these people, like…I don’t know...like…” Kyle stammered, and Coal jumped in.

  “Like a bunch of white people? No, not exactly. I’m hoping we can arrange a private sit down with Chief Laughing Bear. At which point I plan to kind of, well blackmail him," Coal said raising his hands with a shrug and a grin.

  “What??!!! What is going to keep the Chief from just killing you outright? Or me, or both?” Kyle demanded as he pulled the mule to a stop again forcing Coal to stop as well.

  “Well first off, he’s my Uncle, in fact, he kinda raised me. So, I’m thinking that’ll keep him from killing me. What’s going to, I hope, keep him from killing you is the fact that I’m going to tell him you’re somebody that you’re not. You’re going to be a buddy of mine that runs a moonshine still and you’re out here to show him how to build one of his very own. You see Laughing Bear has a taste for the bottle," Coal said kicking his horse into a walk again and forcing Kyle to do the same.

  “Then why in the hell don’t we just bring him booze and buy his help?” Kyle demanded.

  “Because that’s a big deal in the Nation, no alcohol or drugs of any kind are allowed. The first offense they cut off one of your fucking hands, but they do let you choose which one. The second time, well they would make an example of you. Kind of like our buddies on the sign back there," Coal said gesturing back the way they had come.

  “Okay, so how does that help us?” Kyle asked confused.

  “Well you see; I have been running booze out here to Laughing Bear for almost a year now. In exchange for some of that sacred Peyote you see. We meet out in the desert away from the prying eyes of any of his people to sample each other’s wares and share some laughs, talk about old times and I guess you could say, walk the spirit world for a while," Coal said with a laugh and then continued.

  “But last time out, Laughing Bear decided he was tired of paying me for booze and wanted me to show him how to make his own. He was tired of paying a middleman I guess. So I promised him I would show him how, someday. Well when we show up today, I’m going to tell him quietly that you are the man when it comes to bootlegging and that should make him more than happy to find a nice private place where just the three of us can talk," Coal explained.

  “And then you’re going to threaten to expose his drinking if he doesn’t help us?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the plan," Coal said.

  “Coal, that’s kinda a fucked-up plan. I mean he’s your uncle, you're supplying him with booze when you know he’s got a problem, and then you’re going to blackmail him with it? I mean…really?” Kyle asked skeptically.

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to get out of this place alive. Besides you can’t really talk, Mr. I supply drugs to a notorious Kingpin, just so I can double cross him and back out on a deal!” Coal mocked.

  “Okay, Okay, point taken," Kyle said holding up a hand in surrender.

  “How did your uncle become Chief anyway?” Kyle asked trying to change the topic.

  “Same way anybody becomes Chief. He killed the last one," Coal said simply.

  “No shit? How does that even work, I mean as a way of government? It must be co
nstant pandemonium, with somebody new trying to murder their way into power every other day," Kyle said perplexed.

  “It works pretty well actually, it’s as simple as calling the Chief out. Except that fight is always with knives and always to the death. It’s the same way you all do it in town, it’s just that you get to face the bastard that’s trying to stick a knife in you. This way ensures that the biggest, baddest son of a bitch is Chief and that he can back up any command he gives. Besides there's a council of elders that runs most of the day to day bullshit in the Nation, just like our city council if you can believe that," Coal explained.

  “It just seems kinda, haphazard I guess," Kyle said.

  “No haphazard would be calling out Laughing Bear. He has been the chief for almost 6 years now since he killed the last one. His name was Black Snake, and that man was unbelievable with a knife, let me tell you. You see the day my uncle called out Chief Black Snake, my uncle loses his blade early in the fight. So as you might imagine, he ends up getting himself stabbed a half dozen times, but he just starts laughing. And kept laughing as he pummeled old Black Snake to death with his bare hands. That’s how he got the name Laughing Bear," Coal said with pride.

  “Fuck me, and this is the guy you want to Blackmail?” Kyle demanded, but Coal didn’t respond. The pair crested a hill, and a small town spread out below them.

  Kyle wasn’t exactly sure what he expected the Nation to look like, but this wasn’t it. The town looked almost untouched, damn near picture postcard. There were no ruined buildings, no burned out homes, no rusting car bodies filling the streets. Some of the houses looked in disrepair, but even these looked more like they were being built or maybe even systematically torn down? Then he recognized the Teepees, the traditional Indian home every child could point out. They were everywhere, hundreds of them, they were in front of every home and trailer. A large building that looked as if it may have been a post office had over a dozen in its parking lot just off of the main street. On the edge of town, a herd of horses was corralled in what had been a baseball diamond.