Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga)

by C. Henry Martens

  §

  Fish for dinner. The two kids were proud of the string of cutthroat trout bouncing against the side of each horse as they walked their ponies back. They kept the two strings separate so they could brag to their father about the catch and did not want to mix them up. They were justified in being proud because noodling for trout was a true skill and cutthroat the most wary and hard to find of native fish.

  Rising from the creek and topping the hill, they passed not far from the path the blond warrior had taken. They were indeed fortunate he had passed out of sight shortly before.

  Coming over the rise overlooking the old roadbed, the kids were glad to see the party they had been waiting for. Their father would be gratified as well. Right now he must be in the group gathered downhill, close to the fire and the small tree they had used for shade as they waited.

  Wondering where her father’s horse was, as it should be tied to the tree, Jody led the way down the hill with her brother following.

  Chapter 5

  Trouble on the trail is expected. Broken axles and wheels, animals crippled and stolen, and the occasional death all contribute to the experience. Everyone knows what the chances are but decide to risk their lives and financial futures on their decisions and the luck that they can manage. That is a very big factor, managing luck.

  The man that was hired, late, to scout and guide them had mismanaged his luck. The small fire made very little smoke, but it was enough to kill him. Now Eider’s two children, brought along for the experience and to learn the route, were orphans of the trail.

  Any child without a parent present, even an older child, was considered an orphan. The children’s mother had been left behind to care for the family interests at home. She had tried to talk her husband out of taking both kids, but he had been adamant. The son would soon make the trip on his own as an independent guide, and the girl needed to make up for the last trip that she had missed. Trade was the family business, and guiding provided information to the entire pool of relatives.

  The young woman, Jody, just turned eighteen, was new to this part of the country. She had made local trips with her father and once along the eastern slope of the Sierra and down to Las Vegas, as well as to San Francisco by way of Sacramento to the west. This was her first venture east.

  The young man, her brother Cypress, was two years older and much more experienced. His first trip to Denver had been as a fourteen year old, fresh out of school. Taking this route, and those south and west in order to learn the rigors of the trail, was better than any book learning he had ever borne. The life of a guide had become his passion. Cy was fully competent but untested, and now he was thrust into the fire with a little sister as an additional responsibility.

  The Wagon Master was not happy. He had put silver in the trail guide’s hand on the promise of performance. With the recommendation of the Reno Sheriff, the man was accepted as trustworthy enough to make the financial investment. The two kids were nice, but he was not looking for nice kids. He was looking for a tough son of a bitch who could command authority. Now, if he accepted the young man’s credentials as a guide, he might have to fill in as the tough guy when necessary. His other option was to send the kid and his sister back with others to find a replacement. That would delay them and put the train in danger as they moved on slowly, forging ahead as the small party rode hard to catch up. There was also no guarantee they could find a replacement. After all, the dead guide had only shown up and contracted the last evening before they left Reno. Master Till knew that choosing to refuse the kid might harm his confidence and say something not intended back home. But his main priority was the train. It had to be that way.

  The radioman worked up a weakening signal back to Roseburg, and the subject was discussed with the financiers of the journey. They deferred as they should to Till, the man in the field. It might be their money, but it was his life and his reputation that was on the line.

  Till asked a couple of trusted men into his wagon, and they consulted. Then they asked the barely-a-man boy inside to answer some questions.

  Answering truthfully, even when he lacked the answer, went a long way to making Cy’s case to the Master. He proved to know enough to reinforce his abilities and was not afraid to state boldly that he might need to investigate or ask for assistance when necessary. Overconfidence was something the Wagon Master abhorred, almost as much as inexperience. After the young man left to wait outside, the three elders discussed the situation, and the decision was split. Even so, it was the Wagon Master’s decision to make.

  Stepping down from his wheeled domicile, the grim face of the Master spoke of his concern, but Till extended his hand and offered the young man the position. He would replace his father as guide.

  The trip was planned to take over a year, travelling during the two summers. The trail orphans would inform their mother of her husband’s death in a short and emotional radio call, punctuated by static and finally lost. Jody and Cy’s mother would be with family in Carson City until they got back. If they did.

  §

  By the old map being used, there were several ruined towns along the route. Few had any buildings standing, although there were plenty of walls and heaps of detritus with plants growing over them. The only population they expected of any size at all before Salt Lake would be in the ancient town of Elko. Sixty or so miners there would have small gem stones and maybe some gold panned from the creeks of the Ruby Mountains.

  Within days of leaving the ruins of Lovelock, there were local natives shadowing the train. They sat on horseback in the distance, watching. If they were approached they would fall back at the same pace as those trying to make contact. Cy insisted that an extra night watch be set as his first instructions to the train. They were in territory where laws did not apply.

  Some of the remuda vanished. The Wranglers on guard were stymied by the theft. No one had seen anything. A few nights later some more horses disappeared. As the greater number of animals they had were bovine, the loss of the horses was difficult and concerning.

  Cyprus consulted with the Wagon Master, and camp procedure changed. The wagons were circled, and instead of a rope corral, the ponies were contained within the wall of huge conveyances. An old technology, recently rediscovered, allowed them to set up motion detectors. Within the week that strategy had prevailed, and shots were fired over raiders disappearing into the night.

  The young guide had ordered that no weapons be fired directly at anyone unless there was a life being threatened. The sentries grumbled, wishing for blood and retribution after being fooled and losing livestock, but Master Till backed Cy’s decision. With no blood spilled, the raiders felt no compunction to revenge any losses. They retreated and watched from a distance.

  Sooner or later, the trail should pass from the territory of the following raiders. At twelve to fifteen miles a day, the oxen set a steady if uninspiring pace.

  On a bright, crisp morning just before Winnemucca, a contingent of three mounted men and two women on foot approached. The primitives spoke a dialect that was understandable but strange. The men suggested a trade, time with the two women in exchange for any baubles they could use for ornamentation. Some of their finery suggested they had success in the past with travelers. The tallest had a set of matched spoons, one hanging from each ear. Another, copper bracelets that were making his wrist green.

  Till was mildly disgusted by the offer but masked it in order to keep from insulting his guests. He waved his hand at the camp and, indicating the women in view, told them that women were plentiful, and the men needed nothing further.

  The leader of the three suggested that he would trade one of his bracelets for time with the fat woman across the camp by the wagon with the big iron.

  Till looked over his shoulder and noticed Muffy next to the anvil, mixing something in a bowl on the tailgate. He could not help grinning as he thought of what Occam would have liked to do if he had heard the proposed swap.

  Asking the man i
f they had any ponies to trade and getting a negative response, the Master pulled a small leather bag from his belt. He handed the sack of cheap, glass trade beads to the leader, a gift. Then he suggested that the train must be leaving, and the Indians should be as well. To soften the request, he suggested that they would be returning and would have more to trade on the return trip. The three native men looked hard at the Wagon Master, but thinking better of it, they declined the minor insult. As they rode off they inspected the wealth that they could see, and the one with the copper-stained wrist ogled Muffy. Then they spurred their ponies and left their women to follow behind as they could. The women were still visible, trudging through the scrub, long after the men had disappeared.

  No more shadows trailed the train as it moved. Either the wagons were deemed a difficult target or were too far from the native’s home territory.

  Ruins fascinated many of the people on the wagon train, and when they reached Winnemucca earlier than expected, a party made the trip into what was left to look around. The elder Smith released his apprentice to enjoy himself in a break from the mundane work he was doing.

  There was a wealth of brick and stone still in evidence, but though worth something the weight and bulk made it too expensive to freight. Scavenged over the last two hundred years, and lately by Traders on a trade route, any easily found copper was gone.

  The young people in the group used the welcome respite as a chance to indulge in flirting and excited banter. They had little time for socializing as the train moved across the high plain. There were too many chores to be performed.

  The matrons had gathered Jody to their bosoms after her father’s burial. She travelled within the group as they walked the animal trails between the ruins. The older women and a few younger girls encircled her protectively.

  The young men foraged around the women, climbing mounds and overturning rocks and chunks of wall that had tumbled. Occasionally some would work their courage up and approach the ladies. They were tolerated, but the older women made it clear that they were not going to allow the younger to wander off to engage any folderol. The matrons were in control.

  Even though there was plenty of opportunity for Edge to join men of his own age, he stayed separated. With his friend Cable out scouting ahead with Cy, he was feeling melancholy and declined any invitations as he wandered.

  The only object discovered of any worth was a bronze plaque. Some of the young men decided to inspect the underside of a chunk of intact brick. They levered it up far enough to see what lay beneath and almost missed the metal attached to the underside of the wall itself. By smashing the mortared joints, they removed the brick, and four of them carried the piece back to camp, resting often.

  The chunk of metal was a good find, and the Smith paid well for it. Though heavy and somewhat bulky, it would ride beneath the steel on the bottom of the scrap wagon until Occam got back home or he sold it to another Smith along the way. In the meantime, Occam would daydream about what possibilities there were in working the metal.

  As night closed over the camp, the atmosphere was charged with excitement. The brief break from the road had energized the party, and they gathered around the campfires for longer than usual. For the first time since Reno there was music in camp.

  §

  Noticing Edge across the fire, Jody tried to pick his voice from the rest as they sang. She had been watching him all day. Alone and aloof, he had seemed so thoughtful. As the wagon train marched forward each day at a dull pace, there was little to do of any interest, so people talked as they had opportunity. She learned from others that Edge had lost his father in a terrible accident not long before the expedition had departed. Piled on top of the loss, the community had shunned him along with several others they deemed guilty of responsibility in the calamity. So soon from her own loss, her interest was piqued. The young man’s voice blended well within the group, but it was full-bodied and deeper than most.

  Heat from the fire intensified and ebbed as fuel was consumed. Edge appreciated that the heat had nothing to do with work. Even though he was learning and enjoyed the education at the hands of a worthy teacher, he was ready for any break in routine. Watching the musician massage and caress his hand-crafted guitar, he wished he could play. If he had any spare time he would have approached the man for lessons.

  The girl next to the guitar player made him uncomfortable. He had not spoken to Jody since she joined the party, although he felt her loss. He just did not know what to say. She seemed to watch him with overly large, moist and beautiful eyes. And she seemed sad. He wondered what she was thinking.

  The midnight hour drew nigh, and those people still surrounding the fire began to dissipate into the gloom. The fire having died down to coals, spit and popped, darkening into ash.

  One of the women, an older matron not used to late hours, remained to chaperone the young ladies. But it was time to turn in. They would be leaving in the morning, and the next day would be another long one of marching alongside the wagons. She bent to touch the shoulders of those girls remaining and urged them to turn in.

  Jody looked up reluctantly at the touch, wishing for the night to continue. She gathered her blanket about her and retired to the Conestoga she slept beneath. The wagon belonged to a man and woman travelling with their daughter from Reno, their position within the line of wagons determining their position in the circle. Her sleeping arrangements were directly opposite the young man she had been watching.

  An easy sleeper, Jody fell into a deep slumber before the girl who shared her roof came to bed. During the night, Jody woke momentarily and noted the blankets next to her were empty. Thinking the girl had needed to pass water in the night, she fell back to sleep. Something woke her well before normal. A sense of apprehension permeated her, and she felt cold within the warmth of her bed. The blankets beside her were still empty.

  Waking from his normally light sleep, a light tapping on the tailgate of his wagon, Master Till peered from between the curtains. His wife remained snoring quietly.

  Jody was standing wrapped in a blanket at his step. She looked troubled.

  “I can’t find Cherry, sir. She hasn’t been to bed tonight.”

  Till groaned. Sleep was hard to come by, and he had been getting a better night’s than usual. This was all he needed, a missing kid.

  “I’ll get my torch, girl. You wake my second, and get him here pronto.” He ducked back inside.

  Soon the train was alive with activity. The Wagon Master searched one direction with Jody, inspecting each wagon in turn. The second in command, a man named Brick, searched the other direction with his travelling companion, a son new to the trail. As they met at the far side of the circle, they exchanged information. There was a crowd by now, gathered under the lightening sky. Each was questioned in regard to the missing girl. Her parents were scared and claimed her to be disinclined to run off or play at making jokes.

  But the girl was missing.

  Chapter 6

  Leather creaked and groaned as rigging was stretched tight on each saddle. Bits clattered against the teeth of the ponies as bridles were placed on their heads. Rifles, inspected for lubrication and loaded to their full capacity, slammed home into saddle sheaths with loud thuds.

  The scout and the other outriders had spent the night on the forward trail and were not expected to be seen until mid to late morning. They planned to meet the train in transit on the trail some distance ahead.

  Trying everything he could think of, the radio man had been busy in the Wagon Master’s Conestoga trying to rouse the scouts on the portables, but not expecting any luck, he was not having any.

  Volunteers in the search party were almost ready with men feeling the rush of adrenaline as they tried to chew the jerky that would be their only sustenance until they got back. There was no time for a decent breakfast. Men started to mount.

  The eastern sky was a blaze of pink before the sun broke from the horizon.

  One of the men from Rose
burg emerged from between two wagons with a figure under the control of each of his hands. A hand gripped the ear of a young man, and the other was a vise on the arm of the missing girl. The young lady was crying and stumbled over her long skirts as she was thrown in the dust at the horse’s hooves. The boy looked ready to cry, his lip trembling, but he maintained as much composure as he could as he squirmed.

  “Look what I’ve found sleeping in the grass outside of camp!” The older man spoke loudly. “These two were cuddled up like a couple of bunnies!”

  Cherry’s mother, relieved of her worst fears, ignored the rest of the camp and the men on their milling horses. She ran to her daughter and knelt as she gathered her daughter in her arms. Her husband, the girl’s father, followed and stood over them protectively. He gave the boy an evil look, and the kid slunk away, cowering under his gaze.

  Pounding on the side of the wagon, Till yelled through the canvas at the man using the radio.

  “Belay that call…there be no need now! The girl is found.” Fatigue and stress lined Till’s face. Had he been less tired he would have been angrier. He should have counted the young men before ordering a search.

  Young Cherry was led away, still in tears, by her mother. Her father followed stiff legged in anger. Almost immediately loud words issued from within their wagon.

  The boy was from Roseburg and an apprentice of the Vintner. Normally a jocular man with a ready laugh, the spirit maker’s face clouded as he recognized his hired man. He stormed to the boy after dismounting and took the ear that had been spared by the other man in an iron grip. There were loud words exchanged in front of all to see. The young man’s offense was punishable, but the Master Vintner would consult with the Wagon Master first. In the meantime they would make ready to depart.