Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga)

by C. Henry Martens

  The forward motion of the Smithy wagon halted, and Occam looked back, startled at the panic in Edge’s cry.

  Fastening the chain to a D-ring that was attached to a strap running the length of the wagon, Edge rushed back, plunging between the oxen as they struggled and heaved. The heavy animals lurched side to side, and Edge took a great risk as he made to save the remaining four. He could have attached the chain to the front, saving any threat, but instead chose to get as far back as he could so the strain would be off the rear legs of the second team. He risked being pulled into the hole with the oxen if they slipped through or if the road collapsed further.

  Pulling with all his strength, Edge made sure the chain was as tight as it could be. He looked up through the hitch to the front and noted Muffy watching with wide eyes. She held the head of the on-side lead ox, trying to calm him as she urged him to pull.

  By this time, Occam had seen and understood what was happening. Seeing what his apprentice was attempting, he moved to chock the wheels of his Conestoga so it could not slide backwards, ready to run forward to the head of his hitch if the chocks did not hold.

  Looking past Muffy, Edge yelled to Occam, signaling both of them to slack the pull. The forward wagon moved back slightly as it settled into the chocks, the chain tightened like a banjo string, and suddenly the strain on the remaining teams was gone.

  When Edge looked back into the hole the oxen within had already stopped struggling. They hung with their rear hooves twitching a full ten feet off the ground. Sad, his adrenaline still pumping, Edge still had the urgency to save the other beasts in case the bridge collapsed further. He unhooked the front span and encouraged Muffy to lead them away quickly, wanting her off the bridge as well. Then he worked to remove the yoke from the other two. The way the straining chain was attached meant he had to take off the yoke to free them. The empty yoke dropped to the side of the hole, the chain descending over the edge. Edge attached leads to nose rings and led the animals to safety.

  The trapped and twisted wagon was held firmly by the wheel buried into the concrete and the weight of the team hanging from it. The animals would have to be cut free before the Conestoga could be moved.

  The train was stopped for the day between respites because of the accident. They would make a dry camp here and move on after figuring out how to release the dead animals and pull the wagon back, up, and out of the hole. Then they would have to move the wagon back and around, as well as the few others behind them. The overpass was no longer passable.

  Occam and Edge consulted over the situation. They had decided to forgo a team in Reno by not replacing the cripple and the thin steer. With only three extra spans, they had now lost one. Sure that there would be replacements available in Denver, they now worried over whether they would get there.

  Company wagons were obliged to look to themselves first. The Company Ox Master, Arc, was someone they would never ask assistance of. They did not want to see the expression on his face as he turned them down.

  Independent wagons were their only hope if they got in trouble, but anyone could refuse. Extra beasts were commonly used like community property on the trade caravans, but there had been wagons and people left behind in dire circumstances where draught animals were scarce.

  The Smithy asked, and Edge agreed, that the horses might need to be pressed into service, and they should be prepared. The poor feed of the desert was marginal for keeping a horse to be ridden, and under a heavy load it would fatigue and die quickly. The days were getting warmer, and feed was getting worse by the day. But better the horses die than themselves.

  Collars and harness were carried as trade goods. Edge would barter for their use and would begin every evening to acclimate the buckskin and the grey to them. They were well matched and, he expected, easy to train, but they would not be proven until used. Hopefully that would never happen.

  §

  Watching with interest from a position on the side of the overpass, Arc relished what he saw. The Smith and his apprentice had taken a chance, and well shy of their destination they were crippled. As the second span of oxen was led away, he noticed one had a strain. His gait was off. He smiled as he thought about what pleasure he would get if the Smithy and his nephew were left to fend for themselves. Arc decided that he would offer the woman, Muffy, a ride. The look on the men’s faces when he did would be worth something, even if she turned him down. And if she did not, well then…

  As Edge led the span past, Jody had a good view. The commotion had brought her from the interior of her wagon as she was stitching a patch on her benefactor’s shirt. Though she detested it, the work was required in exchange for shelter. She was determined to keep from complaining, but there was a lot she would have liked to say.

  Seeing that Edge was shaken, she studied him and the oxen he was leading. She asked for permission to get down and without waiting scuttled out the back and hit the ground running.

  Edge saw Jody coming and recognized her immediately from a distance. The pants were a dead giveaway. She was the only girl in camp who wore them. Usually women only wore pants to ride, but the girl had brought no dresses and refused any offered.

  “Hold on, Edge,” she commanded him, not as though she were in charge but more like she had something valuable to offer.

  “What ho, Jody?” He smiled. He was glad to stop. His legs felt weak.

  “The team Muffy leads are fine, I think, but these you are leading need to be looked at.”

  In the excitement, Edge had not inspected his charges. He was still coming down from the adrenaline high, his knees twitching. He frowned and looked back at the animals.

  “They do? You see something amiss?” He was concerned.

  The girl reached out and took the lead rope.

  “Here, let me take them and you watch. The one on the right, especially.”

  Sure enough, the ox moved with a stilted gait. Bad news on top of already bad news.

  Handing the lead back again, Jody moved to the injury and knelt, feeling the leg up and down. She looked up.

  “He’ll heal, but if you put him to work it might be injured further. You should let him rest immediately. I’ll make a poultice. He should wear it every night, and you should rest him for a week. The other one you can switch out as you like, but this one needs some time off.”

  The injury was not severe, but Edge was unsure of the girl’s competence in treating the injury. On the other hand he had little choice. He could make poultices, but they were limited in their use, and he did not know the local vegetation or what they used here. With an expensive trip to the Apothecary wagon as the other option, he decided to promote Jody’s ability to Occam and let her try to heal the beast.

  By the time he returned from discussing things with Occam, turning the injured ox over to Jody’s care and then yoking the spare teams and leading them around, the hanging oxen had been cut down.

  Everyone in the caravan took their turn at the carcasses. Game had been scarce, and the meat would not be wasted. Sage did not make the best curative for jerky, and especially since there was no time to properly process the meat, but it would suffice. Certainly the result would be better than any of the salted meat or stringy animals they had managed to shoot lately. The few girls in the expedition would stay up all night, making sure the fires underneath the drying meat would stay lit and smoking.

  The hitch from the Smithy wagon was brought round after it had been placed for the evening in the circle. A hydraulic jack from a Wheelwright’s wagon was borrowed, and others brought blocks and a long pole to be used as a lever. Between the tools and all the extra help, some only given vocally and in humor, the wagon was pried from the vise that held it and backed off the bridge. Soon the old wagon filled a hole left for it in the camp circle.

  Muffy and Occam invited the Wheelwright, his wife, and his apprentice to dinner. The man knew he would be asked to inspect the wagon and render an opinion on its soundness. He was glad to do it, and his wife joined in
by helping Muffy with the meal. Fresh steak was on the menu.

  Expecting some wrath on her return to the Renoite’s wagon, Jody was pleasantly surprised. They had watched in their concern for the troubling situation and decided the girl was being helpful. The couple wanted to see what would happen with the injury as well. There was always room in a wagon for a healer.

  §

  The next morning the ox had no visible limp, but by the end of the day, on light duty and being led behind one of the wagons, it favored the leg. Another poultice on the animal’s leg and another day of walking left the limp still noticeable. On the third day Edge could no longer see a problem.

  A less knowledgeable man might have wanted to use the beast right away, but Edge knew well that the leg required further time. He watched as Jody made each poultice and applied it every night.

  Asking questions of each other in regard to the medication and animal care in general led to other subjects. This was the first real opportunity to converse since Reno, and they found much common ground. Edge knew his breeding techniques and how to evaluate stock and impressed Jody with his ready humor and gentle ways as he massaged the oxen’s leg before the poultice went on. The girl flattered the young man with the attention she made to him with her beautiful eyes, but he came to value that she had valid opinions and even more that she was not afraid to express them. She was unlike any girl he had met in Sullivan Territory.

  By the end of the week, they were approaching Elko. Since most of the road was fairly level, the rested team was given short stints in front of the lighter conveyance, and the injured ox did well. In Elko he would rest for another day as trade commenced.

  §

  Elko being a small community of mostly men, the women of the train were ogled as they set up camp. Miners gathered as they returned from their diggings and interfered with chores in their efforts to speak with anybody, hungry for news of anything outside Elko. The few women in town had been worn out by the attentions of the local men, and though curious, were not polite.

  There were corrals next to a stable, and Occam suggested to Edge that he inspect the contents as well as anything else he could find.

  Never having seen a domesticated burro, Edge inspected them with interest. He had heard of them, seen some wild ones as they traveled, and had once seen a team of mules owned by a traveling tinker, but these animals were different. They were smaller than their wild cousins and stood with their heads hanging and tails switching flies.

  Although wild burros had been relatively common in the deserts of Nevada two hundred years ago, part of the wild horse program, the people who populated and grew into the new native inhabitants saw them as food.

  There were a couple of miniature horses as well. Small, they were probably from some kind of Welsh or Shetland stock. They had bristly, short manes that stuck up over their necks. Young Edge marveled at them, not knowing that horses came in such diminutive sizes. He had no idea they were used in the mines because of their height.

  There were cattle, but they were poor beasts of little value. They looked half-starved, and Edge wondered if they were being fed. He saw no evidence of anything but dirt and a muddy water tank in their small, separate corral.

  “Those two standing next to each other might make a team.” Jody’s voice startled Edge as he leaned with his arms folded on the top rail.

  There was a large-framed cow among the animals, and Edge was inspecting her since there were few options.

  “What do you think of that?” He waved his arm, indicating the cow. “Will she fill a need? As they say, beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Looking through the rails, Jody considered. “She’s big enough. And that black one might make a match. Look at her neck. She’s been used in the yoke.”

  The mark had gone unnoticed by Edge. He had to give the young woman credit. She was sharp.

  A deal was struck for four animals, a barter for freshly made shoes. Horse, oxen, and some quickly made small shoes judged to be pony sized, as well as a quick lesson in shoeing and a set of farrier tools completed the deal. The big animals were less valuable than the things that would preserve their brethren in labor. The best kind of deal was struck as both parties came away with smiles and profit.

  Occam breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the animals were poor, he had expected to be raped in purchasing them. The miner who owned them had not understood how much he could have asked.

  As soon as the bovines were staked out in a grassy patch close to the wagons, they started to gain weight. They ate like they had not seen food for some time.

  §

  Seething internally, Arc watched the girl minister to the ailing ox and repair something that should have gotten worse. She was too good at her trade. He followed her into the mining camp and watched as the two youngsters traded opinions over the contents of the corral. Had there been an inexpensive way to prevent the transaction in animals and iron shoes, he would have tried it. But the kid and the girl led four animals back to camp. They were not the best, but they might be the difference between making it all the way to Denver or bones bleaching under an unrelenting sun.

  Somehow, Arc decided, he needed to put a thorn in their relationship. They were getting too chummy. One thing Arc never allowed to get in the way of anything he wanted was emotion. His or anyone else’s.

  Chapter 8

  Rough weather and a strong current pitched the old fishing boat in and out of the deep troughs. The coast of what had once been California was experiencing the traditional seasonal weather change. The three men on board were on the last leg of a month-long voyage, the hull filled with a good catch and setting low in the water. This last net to be hauled aboard, as all things dependent on luck would have it, was being reluctant. The ease of its early rise from the depths was suddenly, harshly made difficult as the material tightened against the gunwale.

  “It’s an old net. Let’s cut ’er loose.” Jiffy Chin looked to his older brother to make the decision. It was his brother’s boat, his brother’s rules. The third man, Wooly Sedonia, relaxed from his straining against the turnstile that brought the net in. He looked expectantly to the Captain of the small boat, hoping for an affirmative answer so they could go home.

  Looking over the side, testing the heft of the net to see if there was any give, Genric Chin set his teeth in a grimace as he flexed his big muscles. He could swear that he felt some movement.

  Without looking or releasing any pressure, he admonished his men to assist him.

  “C’mon, gi’me a hand. I’m pretty sure this thing is caught on something we can bring up.”

  As anxious as they were to get home, they were curious. Some of the things they had latched onto below the surface had been interesting. Objects from the past were always worth a look. The world had once been a strange and wonderful place. While most net finds found their way back over the side, the brothers had a growing collection of unknown and bizarre things from the depths. Most objects were unidentifiable, but they made nice yard ornaments on these wind-whipped coastlines, and their wives relished the inexpensive gifts in the mistaken idea that their men were being thoughtful.

  Sure enough, with all three men tugging on the net, there was a definite give. Whatever was creating the strain was heavy but movable.

  With the leverage of the ratcheting turnstile, all three men sweating on a separate handle, the load rose. Once, there was a sudden lurch. They all knew it meant the net had given way and would need to be repaired, but that was a small thing. At least the object had remained caught. As long as they could get it to the side of the boat, they could tie it off and take it home. Carefully, slowly, they hauled the net up.

  A solid clunk announced the arrival of whatever they were expecting. A hook secured the load from any chance of the old ratchet mechanism skipping and releasing. Gen rubbed his aching forearms as he stood upright. He was hoping for something good. The effort was a lot of work otherwise.

  Jif and Wooly both relaxed
and sat back against the pile of lines and net that filled the deck. Out of respect for the Captain they hung back and allowed him space to make the initial assessment of their catch.

  Taking longer than expected, they finally crowded forward to peer over Gen’s shoulder.

  §

  When the world had gone dark and empty, two hundred years ago or so, there had been a bustling population of twelve billion human beings on planet Earth. The intentional plagues released upon the dominant species that was busy destroying their own habitat was intended to cleanse the planet of the greater part of the infestation. Those responsible were operating with the best of motivation. They recognized the inevitable outcome of an out of control human scourge intent on self-destruction. Humans were their own worst enemy.

  In a chance conversation among several hung over fraternity brothers, all sons of privilege and extreme wealth, the eventual situation came into focus. Discussion, enhanced by being carried out in front of an especially graphic newscast on low volume, resulted in many chance but relevant comments. Of the several participants, a small number gathered later at the request of the acknowledged “brain” within the group. Without the bleary, morning-after heads of the initial conversation, they discussed the trajectory of things to come. Because of their educational experiences, both institutional and otherwise, they understood the world to be in deep trouble… and that those digging the hole were unlikely to put their shovels down.

  As young children of privilege, they spoke with a certain unreality that more mature people would have brought to the issues they discussed. Not used to being denied and always having options that only great wealth could provide, they proposed solutions that would have been shunned in ordinary circles. It was agreed that in order to insure the future for themselves and their posterity, the better part of mankind was expendable. Not just expendable… counter to reason.