Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  “Well?” the woman asked again. “What about the others?”

  More gunfire erupted. Men yelled at each other from the other side of the yard, but Ed couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Ed glanced at John who seemed to have checked out. He noticed the rest of the group weren’t looking at John though. They all looked to Ed, searching for answers, for a plan. The thin woman stared intently at him, her cheekbones high and protruding, her eyes beseeching. In the dark, her sunken eye sockets looked like black pits.

  “I don’t know about the others,” Ed replied. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do for them. We have to get to those trucks, with or without them.”

  “We can’t just leave them here,” the thin woman said, her voice breaking.

  “What’s your name?” Ed asked.

  “Ann.”

  “Ann, listen to me. We don’t even know where the others are. Everybody scattered. But what I do know is that our lifeline is those trucks. Our food, our supplies and our weapons are in them.” Ed looked around the group, making eye contact with them all. “Without the things in those trucks, we’re dead. We’ll never make it to the coast and you can forget about Hawaii.”

  “He’s right,” one of the others added. The man had graying hair and a large, gray beard to match. Ed recognized him from Kansas City. He must have been in Alice’s truck.

  “But they’ll die if we leave them,” Ann said.

  “We’ll die if we try to go after them,” Gray Beard argued.

  Ed placed a hand on Ann’s shoulder. “We’ll save who we can, if we can. We won’t leave anyone behind if we can help it. I can promise that much, but no more.”

  Ann paused for a moment, considering. She placed her hand on top of Ed’s and nodded. “Okay.”

  Ed smiled at her in the dark. He peeked around the woodpile and searched the area. Pale moonlight shone on the landscape, creating a phantasmagoric scene of intermingled light and shadow. The church lay fifty feet ahead, the prison building behind them. The tall fence that surrounded the church and its yard ran alongside the main building, creating a four foot gap between them that stretched to the front of the building and hopefully would lead them out.

  But they’d be exposed as they ran across the church yard, before disappearing behind the church.

  Ed turned back to the group, pointing out the narrow corridor running alongside the church building. “That’s our route,” he told them. “It should take us around the front of the church.”

  “Let’s do it before we don’t have a choice,” Trish said.

  Ed turned to Zach and Jeremy. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just stay together, okay?”

  The boys nodded in reply.

  Trish met Ed’s eyes. “I have them.”

  Ed smiled. “I know you do. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she replied.

  “I’ll go first,” Ed said to the group. “Stay behind me in single file. Be quick, but careful. Don’t make any sounds.” He glanced out from behind the wood pile before turning to the group. “Now,” he said, slipping out from behind their cover and into the moonlit yard.

  * * *

  Ed ran beside the church building, his children in tow, Trish following behind. Jasper, Terry and the others brought up the rear. The chatter of gunfire in the yard behind the building quieted as they put distance between.

  Ahead, the edge of the church building grew closer. No walls or fences blocked the way, providing Ed with a small sliver of hope. Beyond the corner of the church building was where they parked the trucks. With any luck they’d still be there. And with any luck there wouldn’t be armed guards waiting to gun them down once they arrived.

  At the front corner of the church Ed paused, holding up a hand to the others in the group. He peered around the edge of the church, assessing the layout before him. Illuminated by the full moon, Ed had a clear view of the yard in front of the church building. The trucks were there, where they’d been parked hours earlier. But two additional vans sat in the parking lot in front of the building, along with the trucks. The vans looked empty, as did the stretch of the church’s front lawn and the bordering parking lot.

  “What do you see?” Trish asked.

  “Looks clear,” Ed said.

  “Are the trucks there?” Terry asked.

  “They are,” Ed replied.

  Terry squeezed around, positioning himself beside Ed. He peeked around the corner himself, scanning the scene. “Where’d the vans come from?”

  “Don’t know,” Ed said.

  “You don’t suppose Enoch and his merry band of assholes left the keys in them for us do you?” Terry said.

  “I have a key,” John said from the back. “They took our main sets of keys, but I kept a spare in my pocket, just in case.”

  Terry grinned wide. “John, you might not be the peckerwood I thought you were.”

  John smiled in the dim moonlight.

  Ed waved John toward the front of the line. After squeezing past the others, he stopped beside Terry and Ed.

  “Stay with us,” Ed said. “When we get to the truck, you’re going to get in and drive. No hesitations. Can you do that?”

  John nodded slowly. “I think so.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Ed said. “You have to know.”

  John’s head perked up slightly. “I drove these things for fifteen years before the virus,” he said, nodding. “I can do it.”

  Ed grinned slightly. “Good.” He turned to the group. “We’re going straight for the truck. Everybody but John in the back. We’re going through the gate, so stay down when he hits it. We don’t know if these people are going to follow us, so we need those rifles ready.” He scanned the faces in the group. He saw mostly fear. “We’re going to make it through this. Just follow the plan.”

  He peeked around the corner one more time, inspecting the moonlit lot in front of the church. It remained empty.

  He turned to Trish and the boys. “Ready?”

  Trish and Zach nodded.

  “Ready,” Jeremy said.

  “Let’s go,” Ed said to the group, stepping around the corner of the church and into the exposed lawn.

  They made it halfway to the truck before the gunfire erupted, lighting up the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Taking out the freaks in the robes had been easy. They were armed, as Barnes had expected, but they were slow to react. Probably because they thought they had the upper hand. There were ten of them, after all. Hard to blame them, all things considered. Still, arrogance got you killed more often than not, so they kinda had it coming.

  They kept half of them alive. That way was better, because the meat would stay fresh. The five that were dead would have to be cooked up and eaten right away or their meat would need to be smoked for jerky. In Barnes’s opinion people burgers tasted better than people jerky, but it went down smoothly enough all the same. When the belly growled loudly enough, it didn’t fucking care what you fed it, provided it got something.

  Barnes’s men loaded up the bodies of the five dead freaks into the back of the van. They could field dress them later; for now they had other plans. After beating the piss out of the lead asshole in robes, they got enough information to know that these ten people were the tip of the iceberg. An entire cult had assembled nearby, enough meat to last Barnes and his crew for a couple months or more.

  And Barnes couldn’t pass that up.

  The cult freaks would be armed, but that didn’t really bother Barnes. His men were always looking for a fight, just the nature of their breed. He might even lose a few, but it wouldn’t be a first time for that either. Men came and went. Everything was fleeting in the post-virus world.

  The lead asshole in robes told them where they could find the church with the rest of the fresh meat. They only had to break two of his fingers to get the information. He’d seen men last longer, but not by much.

  It didn’t take them long to find the
place. The dippy bastards opened the gate for them even. Apparently that was their game; trick some poor saps into following them back to their “church” and then feed them to the fucking carriers. Nice. Barnes and his men showing up in their vans didn’t spook these creeps one bit.

  The fuckers hadn’t expected Barnes’s boys to come out of the vans, guns blazing though.

  Barnes and his men drove hard into the church, right through the front door. The look on the faces of the faithful was priceless. Total surprise. They hadn’t expected things to go down like this. Barnes had to admit that he’d taken a certain satisfaction from it all.

  Getting through the church itself proved easy enough. Barnes’s boys shot, punched and hacked their way through. Machetes painted the walls red with hot, sticky blood. It smelled like a slaughterhouse. Blood and guts lay everywhere, a soupy mess covering the floor.

  It all looked easy peasy until they made it through the church and into the back lot. The freaks hit hard with a second wave. Machine guns chattered, shotguns boomed, knives and machetes swung. Somebody even rolled in with a goddamn pitchfork. The fuckers were fervent, all right, Barnes gave them that. They came on like a holy terror, holding Barnes and his men back for a bit until they could reassess.

  But this was just the kind of fight Barnes lived for.

  Barnes and his boys beat them back damn hard. They laid down an ass-whipping like never before. They were riled up, chomping at the bit to get some action. The freaks went down quick, one by one, until it became obvious they just didn’t have the men or the firepower to win.

  But then, when Barnes could all but taste victory, it all went to hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ed heard two shots before Gray Beard’s head exploded. His body went down hard, like a dog jerked on its leash.

  “Go!” Ed yelled. He ducked, wondering in some far off part of his mind why he thought such a maneuver would make any difference at all. He did it anyway, pulling the boys in closer, arms around each of them as they ran.

  “Where the hell is that coming from?” Jasper asked.

  A shot rang out, kicking up dirt beside Jasper’s feet as he ran.

  “Faster!” Terry bellowed.

  More gunshots called out into the night, seemingly from all around them. Ed watched as Ann, the woman who’d been so concerned about saving the rest of the prisoners, cried out before dropping to the grass. Her body twitched once before coming to a rest.

  Out of his peripheral vision, Ed found the source of the gunfire. Another group of robed men approached the front of the church. Reinforcements, sent in to take care of the mess going on inside the church. One could only guess how big Enoch’s operation was or how many people he’d killed in all.

  As Ed and his group passed in the front of the church, more gunfire erupted from inside. Men spilled out of the church’s front doors, rifles, baseball bats and machetes clutched in their hands, dressed in homemade armor that looked like something out of a Mad Max movie. Howling like wild dogs, the men spilled out of the church doorway and down the front steps, toward Ed and the group.

  Bullets whizzed past, taking down one of the intruders. The man landed hard on the ground, his makeshift armor clanging against the ground. A rifle flew from his hands, skittering across the grass. Terry scooped it up and pointed it toward the group marauding down the steps. He opened fire, a rapid succession of shots escaping from the barrel, taking down the line of approaching men.

  “Keep moving!” Terry shouted.

  Ed ushered Zach and Jeremy along, keeping Trish in his sights as best he could. Around them people yelled and screamed as machine guns belched bullets. Short bursts of flame from gun barrels lit up the night like lethal lightning bugs.

  The light of the full moon cast deceptive shadows everywhere. Parked ahead of them, the truck’s unmistakable shape was visible even in the dim light. Ed ran toward it, not sure how many others from his group still followed. Immediately he thought of John and the vital truck key stashed in his pocket.

  “John!” Ed called out, looking around, panic setting in.

  “I got him!” Terry called out. “Keep moving!”

  As the fighting continued behind them, the group raced onward to the truck. It was parked near the edge of the grassy lot in front of the church, a dozen feet away from the chain link fence protecting the cult from the carriers roaming the land beyond.

  As Ed neared the truck, he felt a shimmer of hope. They might actually make it. They closed the distance to the large vehicle. Ed stopped near its rear end ushering the boys and Trish toward the cab as he waited for the rest of the group to arrive. Among them he recognized the greasy woman in the army coat who’d shushed him back in Kansas City.

  “You!” he said. “Get this tailgate down and help everyone in.”

  “Got it,” she replied, reaching up and unlatching the tailgate.

  Ed turned to Trish.

  “I have them,” she said, glancing at Zach and Jeremy. “You get that truck started and get us the hell out of here.”

  Ed nodded, turning back to the stream of incoming prisoners. He saw Jasper head toward the back of the truck, along with both Kevins and a few faces he didn’t recognize; other prisoners he’d briefly shared a cell with. He didn’t have the time to sort them out.

  Terry appeared from the shadows a moment later, John in tow. Ed breathed a sigh of relief. Ed ran to the truck’s cab and yanked open the door, allowing John to get in. “Get us out of here,” he said, pushing John inside.

  Terry ran around the front of the truck, hopping into the passenger seat.

  John placed the key in the ignition. Before he could start the truck his head exploded in a flurry of red. Startled, Ed stepped back as two more bullets punctured John’s chest. He slumped forward, landing on the truck’s large steering wheel as blood ran onto the seat.

  Ed turned to see a man in a robe kneeling on one knee, the rifle aimed in his direction.

  A gunshot crackled from the passenger seat and the man in the robe dropped to the ground.

  Ed turned back to the truck as Terry lowered the rifle. “Move!” the big redheaded man said. Ed backed out of the way as Terry kicked John’s body out of the cab and onto the ground below. “Get the fuck in and drive!”

  Ed didn’t wait to be told twice. He hopped into the cab, sitting in warm blood. He gripped the bloody steering wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life.

  “Windshield!” Ed yelled, shoving the truck into gear. He released the clutch and shoved gas to the engine. It jerked hard as it pulled away.

  “Got it!” Terry said wiping away with his bare hands the thick layer of blood and brains obscuring Ed’s vision.

  “That’s our way out,” Terry said, pointing toward the gate leading out to the main road. “Hit that fence full bore.”

  Ed nodded as he depressed the clutch and grabbed second gear. The truck lurched, the engine bogged, but a moment later it growled with authority as their cruising speed increased.

  “Easy does it, my friend,” Terry said. “You got this. Get us the hell outta here!”

  Ed shifted into third gear, this time more smoothly. Gunshots ricocheted throughout the darkness. Terry leaned out the window as they passed the vans parked in the lot. He placed several shots in their tires, deflating them. Two armored figures stepped out from behind the vans. Terry fired several more shots, taking the two down fast.

  “Punch it!” Terry yelled.

  A small hole appeared in the windshield, creating a series of spider cracks around the entry point as a bullet whizzed between Ed and Terry. Ed pressed the pedal down hard, feeling the power of the big engine beneath the hood as the truck picked up more speed.

  The fence grew closer with each passing second.

  A moment later they were upon it.

  “Get down!” Terry yelled.

  Ed ducked along with Terry as the truck struck the gate, tearing it off its hinges and throwing it to the side li
ke a giant discarding an unwanted toy. Ed peeked back over the dashboard again, eyeing the road illuminated by moonlight bright enough by which to navigate.

  “Fuck yeah!” Terry bellowed, holding his hand up in a high five gesture.

  Ed returned it, smacking the big man’s bloody palm with his own before shifting into fourth gear. Still reeling from the adrenaline in his system, Ed desperately tried to plan out their next move. They’d gotten away, but he couldn’t be sure they would stay safe. Not yet, at least.

  “They’re going to be distracted for a while,” Ed said. “We need to put as much distance as we can between us and them.”

  “Shame about the others left behind,” Terry said, eyeing the side mirror.

  Ed glanced in his own side mirror, spattered with blood. “Yeah.”

  They drove on into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The fight lasted for less than an hour, and in the end Barnes and his boys took out the freaks. He lost a lot of men though, nearly half of them. Womack made it out alive, an outcome Barnes couldn’t peg to positive or negative. Right hand man or not, Womack was a scary fucker.

  Crocket had taken a bullet straight to the chest, however, despite the armor. Barnes had told him a million times that shit wouldn’t work. But there was nothing to be done about that now. Dead was dead.

  Barnes decided that his men would be given Viking funerals; burned on a pyre like warriors. It seemed a fitting end and his surviving men agreed. The enemy would be eaten, of course. They’d put up a good fight and Barnes could respect that. Anybody who could fight with that kind of conviction deserved respect. And what higher respect could one pay to one’s enemies than to consume their flesh? Hell, it was poetic, when you really stopped to think about it.

  Barnes and his boys took as many of the freaks alive as they could. A count of the survivors came back at twenty-two. But with sixteen bodies to butcher they were going to need some help. Barnes decided they might as well enlist the help of the surviving freaks, while they still walked.