The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “And the closer they are to having a big pile of radioactive material,” Amanda said.

  “If they’re taking all of that crap far away from us, I say let’em have it,” Ranger Stark said.

  “What if it’s more than that?” Amanda replied.

  “I’m betting there is more,” Art said. “Crazy will get a person a long way, but to go as far as TGG has is… I don’t know if insanity covers it. There’s more to it and I’ll bet you’ll find it in all that paper.”

  Dan Geiger took Barlo’s place. “Training. Corporals Sierra and Braden will take the bulk of this, with assistance from any other Rangers they might request to get them to the finish line.

  “The patrols and observation posts will be under the direction of Sergeant Tucker, minus any personnel needed for training or Sergeant Traipse’s mission.” He looked at Jack. “Do you have any estimate on numbers yet?”

  “No, not until I know for sure what we’re dealing with. Short term, we need to let the intel folks get as clear a picture as possible. I’d like to take as direct a route into the Blastlands as possible and do so without having to fight through raiders. We can’t have them interfering with our trip, otherwise we’d might as well go around. That would take time we may not have.”

  “What if we went after them? Chew them a little?” Ranger Stark said.

  Brian West shook his head. “If we go to war with them, it’ll take weeks to whittle them down, Jack might as well use the same time and take the long way.”

  Geiger gestured at Jack. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’d like to do a quick recon to the north and see what the Cornhusks are up to. If it looks possible, perhaps we could warn them off. I’d also like to ride toward the west and look at routes over that way as well.”

  “Nice idea on the raiders, but do you think it will work?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. If the Cornhusks are going to be trouble, maybe we’ll need to wait until we have enough Ranger force up here to deal with them. That means TGG and the rads have more time to recover warheads in the Blastlands.”

  “Or head west with them if they are that far along,” Amanda said.

  “If we could warn the raiders off, our patrols could spend more time near homesteads and guard road traffic,” Sergeant Tucker said. “We could resume longer patrols when we have more people back from down south.”

  Drake nodded. “All right. Sergeant Traipse, do you intend to be the one to contact the Cornhusks?”

  “Yes. I don’t want somebody else to get their ass shot off trying my idea. I’ll take one Ranger with me if there is a volunteer.”

  Sean’s hand shot up.

  Drake looked at him and smiled. “You that eager to get killed, Trahearn?”

  Sean laughed. “No. I thought I might keep Jack from ending up that way. He has a tendency to get himself into hazardous situations when he’s by himself.”

  Drake nodded and glanced at Jack. “He does at that.” The captain turned to Geiger. “You feel they are up to it?”

  Geiger nodded. “I do.”

  “What about the Cornhusks, Dan? You’ve been dealing with them more recently than I. Think they’ll go for it?”

  “Lee Ellison is running the Cornhusks now. Took over some months back. He’s trouble, but he’s smart.” Dan looked at Jack. “If you make it clear he’ll have a war on his hands if he interferes, he might agree. He’d need to keep up appearances, so you might need to do it in private and face to face so he could come up with a reason that doesn’t make him look weak.”

  “Any ideas on how I do that?”

  “None.”

  “I’ll come up with something.”

  “When do you plan to depart?”

  “In the morning.”

  . . . . .

  Sean and Jack were in Lieutenant Geiger’s office early. The Ranger HQ was busy with men and women crowding past one another, each in the midst of their duties for the day or preparing to leave on missions outside of Geneva. Geiger smiled. “This is what a Ranger post is supposed to look like.”

  Outside, the whicker and snorting of horses told of patrols readying to depart. Rangers Stark, Young, Sikes, and the cousins Dando dropped heavy rucksacks on the floor as they walked to the map table to go over their route to observation posts.

  Ranger West looked on with disgust and envy, his leg wound not allowing him any strenuous duties. He would be working in the Ranger HQ, and he loathed the idea.

  Mike Pitts was one of those going on horse patrol. He laughed at West’s facial expressions. “I’ll trade duties with you, Brian. You can ride a horse. I’ll ride a desk.”

  He received a hard glare in return.

  Geiger turned from his place in the office doorway and moved behind his desk. As he sat down he said, “No word on the Cornhusk warrants yet, so the horse patrols will hold until we get word. That includes you two.”

  “If we manage to meet with Lee Ellison and the warrants include him, do we bring him in after we convince him to stay clear of us?” Sean asked.

  Dan and Jack laughed. “If you can pull that off, have at it,” Geiger said.

  Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait very long. Thirty minutes later, Amanda brought in a piece of wide paper that curled around her hand. “Just came over the teletypewriter, LT.” She handed him the paper. “Michaels is printing copies.”

  Geiger thanked her and on her way out, she pointed at Jack. “I still owe you some words. The fact that you brought in some scary intel doesn’t get you off the hook.”

  “I know. Yuri said you used language over the radio that made him blush. He was Spetsnaz for Pete’s sake.”

  “You have a grace period, mister. Don’t push it,” she said as she passed through the doorway.

  “She has a point, Jack,” Sean said.

  “I know she does. I agree with her.” Jack looked at Lieutenant Geiger. “Anything to add, LT? I’m open to any abuse or criticism.”

  Dan shook his head. “It was as good a bit of Rangering as I’ve ever heard of, Jack, but from a personal standpoint, I hope you don’t do that very often.”

  “Noted, and thanks.”

  “Four warrants. Two John Does with descriptions, and two known Cornhusks, both of whom we are well acquainted with. Jason Marcus for robbery, Harl Cooper on two counts of murder and other charges.” Jason Marcus was a trainee in the same class as Sean and Jack, expelled early in the cycle. He had joined the Cornhusks some weeks after that. Harl Cooper was a longtime raider with a grudge against Rangers, especially those who carried the surname Traipse.

  Jack scowled. “Do we bring Cooper in, LT?” The tone of his voice conveyed something else.

  Dan and Sean understood the tone and its connotation. “He’ll be lucky if he’s not hung or shot if he falls into custody here in Geneva, so it would likely necessitate transporting him elsewhere for his safety. That would pull some Rangers from here to do that. You know how it is, Jack. It’s smack in the middle of a grey area. Bring him in if you can, but it might be better for all concerned if Mr. Cooper ceases to be. There is no doubt he is a cold-blooded killer, so if apprehension isn’t possible…. Use your best judgment.”

  Jack and Sean nodded.

  “And Jason Marcus?”

  “He was there, no doubt about that, but we can’t tie him directly to anything but raiding the merchant train. He’ll end up becoming a Harl Cooper eventually, but for right now, we bring him in. I doubt we have a rock solid case against him. I expect he might walk, but that’s for a judge and jury to decide.”

  Michaels brought copies of the warrants, and Jack and Sean were soon on the road. They didn’t travel far before they stopped. Slightly less than a mile from Geneva was a homestead belonging to John Anderson. Jack knew Anderson and hoped that Yuri was still staying with him.

  The pair rode up to the homestead as Anderson led a horse to the barn. He stopped when he saw them approach.

  “Hi, Jack. Been awhile.�
��

  “Yes. Been busy.”

  “So I hear. Yuri told me about your radio call. Figured you’d come by.”

  Jack introduced Sean, and after Anderson was finished taking care of the horse, he led them inside.

  “How’s the vodka business going?” Jack said.

  Anderson laughed. “I figured I’d try it and see if anyone wanted to drink it. Thought maybe something different might catch, make a little coin, but Yuri drinks enough all by himself that I might have to go into full time production just to keep up.”

  “Is he drunk now?” Sean said.

  “It’s hard to tell. He doesn’t get drunk like most folks. He gets wry and sentimental, in a poetic sort of way.”

  Sean shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Anderson shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t either. It’s something my wife said. I think she has a crush on him.”

  The Rangers laughed.

  “Is he around?” Jack said.

  Anderson pointed. “Back porch.”

  Jack and Sean made their way there and found the man slouched in a chair looking over a small lake a short distance away. He looked up and gave Jack a slight smile.

  “So you survived to come and see Yuri.”

  Jack introduced Sean and they sat near him.

  “You didn’t bring Gregori?”

  Yuri shook his head. “As you know, he can be difficult at times.”

  “You don’t worry about what he might do if you’re not there?”

  “Gus the bartender is watching him. He has a way with Gregori. Will be fine. You wish to know something?”

  “Yes. I need to tap the knowledge of someone who knows the Blastlands well.”

  “This connects to your foray west? These necros?”

  “Not necros, TGG and rads.”

  “Ah, I see. Yuri is not used to mornings. Here they are pleasant though. The Blastlands are vast. Where do you intend to go?”

  “The missile fields west of what used to be Whiteman Air For—”

  Yuri raised a hand. “No. You do not want to venture there. Go elsewhere. Missile fields are for mutants and radiation worshipers. Is the land of this Father Atomic they follow, not for young Rangers.”

  “We must.”

  He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Yuri did his part, so let it be on your heads if you happen to grow a second one because of your foolishness. West you say?”

  “Not far beyond the old Kansas-Missouri border.”

  “Is survivable, but hazardous. Well south of old base is better, where Yuri and Gregori collect extremophiles, but you go where you choose. Central and east part of missile fields and beyond is extremely dangerous. Much fallout covered the land, much radiation, and prevailing winds blow from the west. Is still deadly after thirty years. Stay where you intend, on the western edge of fields.”

  “Have you been there?” Sean asked.

  Yuri nodded. “Many years ago, but I think little has changed. Not much can survive there for long but mutants. Mutant humans, mutant animals, mutant plants, many strange things. Is called the Blastlands for a reason. Was blasted to waste by warheads from my motherland trying to prevent warheads from Missouri from blasting things there. Better missile fields than cities, but what difference did it make. All of the great cities died in filth and flame. Old like Moscow, new like New York, small like your Old Norman. We who survive live in a poisoned world with necros and rads picking at the bones and young men like you dying to keep them at bay. Ah, but all is not lost, we do have vodka now. My new friend Anderson has skill.”

  “We have vodka, but no concrete knowledge of the hazards out there. Can you tell us what you know so Sean and I and a bunch of others don’t end up dead in the effort?”

  “I will write it all down and mark things on map. I’ll even disturb Gregori if I can reach him. He may recall things I have forgotten. Return in two days time and I shall have it ready for you.”

  “Thanks. We may not be back from our trip in two days. We’ll come by on our return.”

  “No matter. Come when you will. I shall require something in return. You will owe me favor.”

  “All right, Yuri.” Jack paused and then smiled as he recalled something. “You don’t happen to like caviar, do you?”

  “You assume because of my place of extraction I like such food?”

  “If I assumed I would have simply spat out the location where you might get some.”

  “It would not be the same. Caviar is not simply fish eggs. Must be—”

  “Sturgeon roe.” Jack said with a point.

  “Beluga?”

  “I doubt it, but it’s likely the closest you’ll get on this continent.”

  “Here? In Freelands?”

  He shook his head. “There’s a place looking to produce it. They have sturgeon, but I’ll require a map and list of hazards in the western Blastlands before I’ll divulge its location.”

  Yuri smiled. “That is a favor. Is deal. Don’t die before you return.”

  . . . . .

  Jack and Sean rode north and met a four-Ranger patrol led by Mike Pitts. They rode along with the patrol and turned east. When the patrol turned southward, the pair moved north to scout the area south of Lane and Princeton. They stayed off the main road, sticking to side trails or riding cross-country. They saw considerable sign of horse traffic, but encountered not a single raider.

  They went west a few miles, crossing narrow creeks and passing between larger ones, until they came to a dirt road. They continued west, crossing a wide paved road that had weathered the years well, then zigzagged north and west several miles.

  At one point late in the afternoon, they saw a large band of twenty or more riders pass by to their west, heading north and out of sight. Jack and Sean intended to ride to within a few miles of Princeton and make camp, and then attempt to make contact with the Cornhusks the following morning. If all went well, they would ride east and scout the area toward the Blastlands before returning to Geneva a few days later.

  The pair began a search for a suitable camping position, something near the road, but hidden and difficult to access. As darkness came on, they found a spot, a hollow accessible through a small gap in the tree line near the road. They rode in and dismounted, walking the area. As they made to unload their mounts, the pounding of hooves caught their ears, coming from the east and getting closer.

  The two Rangers mounted and rode the edge of the trees. As the riders passed by, they could see it was a quartet of Cornhusks.

  “I’ll be damned,” Sean said. “Did you see who was in the group?”

  “Jason Marcus.”

  “No shit? Harl Cooper was too.”

  Jack looked up at the dark sky and grimaced.

  “We have to go after them,” Sean said.

  “I know.”

  Jack led out, turning left onto the road, Sean just behind. The raiders were still in sight. Jack signaled Jenny to close while Sean spurred his mount to do the same.

  Jack checked the holster on his hip to ensure the strap between the back of the slide and the cocked hammer was snapped securely closed. He tugged on the case that held his Savage .308 bolt-action rifle and found it secure as well.

  Jenny nearly flew, reveling in the pursuit, but Jack slowed her. The pursuit might be a long one and Sean’s mount couldn’t quite match the Appaloosa’s pace.

  The Rangers closed to fifty yards before the raiders noticed. Whether by lucky guess or marvelous night vision, one of the raiders shouted, “Rangers!”

  They spurred their mounts and the Rangers gave chase, riding through the dust kicked up by the four horses ahead of them.

  The raiders came to an intersection and split, a pair continuing west, the other two turning left and going south.

  “South, south!” Sean yelled from just behind Jack. “It’s Harl and Jason.”

  Jack guided Jenny to the right side of the road before initiating the turn to the apex of the corner, Sean doing
the same. The move opened the turn and the Rangers gained two strides just by taking a better line. A mile south was another intersection, this one of the T variety. Jack could see the two ahead gesticulating at one another.

  “They’re going to split up,” Jack said looking back at Sean. “I’ll follow the one that goes left.”

  “Got it,” Sean replied. “Meet you at the campsite.”

  One horse went left, the other right and slipping, its rider nearly coming out of the saddle. Jenny continued to close the gap.

  Jack’s opponent looked back. It was Harl Cooper. A glint alerted Jack to a polished stainless steel pistol in the raider’s hand. Jack guided Jenny to the right to make it more difficult for Harl to aim should the raider decide to fire. He slowed Jenny as well and was prepared to employ his AKM should the raider want to exchange lead.

  Harl cut to the left and off the road into some trees. Jack followed. The trees were large and planted in orderly rows. An old orchard, Jack thought. The question of whether they were fruit or nut trees flashed through his mind.

  Harl turned right, out of sight for a short time. Jack tensed, expecting the raider to be trying something, but as he rounded the corner, he saw that Harl had slowed and he was closing on the raider.

  Maybe his horse came up lame, he thought.

  Too late, Jack saw the swinging log coming at him in the moonlight. He had only enough time to flinch. The knobby wood just missed Jenny’s head, striking Jack as he recoiled. The night went completely dark for him as the impact swept him from the saddle.

  . . . . .

  Harl looked back and saw his ruse had worked perfectly. Ellison had instructed Cornhusks to place traps and hazards throughout the area around Princeton and required each of them know where they were. It was unpleasant work and many raiders cursed the leader, but they did as ordered. Harl smiled, glad Ellison was thinking ahead. He leaped from his horse with a whoop. Ellison will be impressed when I bring in a Ranger, he thought as he walked toward the inert form of Jack, the Ranger having come to rest in thick leaf litter under one of the trees. Jenny stood near.