by David Peters
“I’ll stock them up after dinner. Let’s check in on Jen and Niccole and see if all the rigs are ready. I think we are done here for now.”
Caperson and Travis walked across the town square toward the barn and pasture where the town’s herd of horses lived when they weren’t tasked with work on the farms or scouting.
“Been a while since I have seen everyone so busy,” Travis pointed out.
“Kind of like Folkesburg all over again.” He smiled before saying, “I hope they don’t bring more chili. I’m really tired of canned chili. Just the smell of it anymore makes me kind of nauseous.”
Travis laughed, “Wonder if they have any of those dried peaches? Maybe the turkey and gravy meals.”
“Can’t imagine they have any of that left. I did hear a mention of them fishing, the thought of fresh fish sounds pretty damn good. Something other than the trout we pull out of the river. I could go for a big hunk of halibut or some cod in that spice mix Jen put together. Even just grilled with some mayo would be damn good. Wilma’s herb farm is going to get emptied out if that’s the case.”
Travis grimaced, “Can’t stand fish. Give me something that walked on dirt and I’m a happy man. You can keep your surf and I’ll stick with the turf.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. Little bit of pepper and a big chunk of meat and I’m a happy man.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, but, hey, more for me,” Caperson said with a smile.
Jen greeted them at the door of the barn, “Hey there, gentlemen. You are just in time for our much deserved break.”
Niccole walked out behind her as she removed her thick work gloves, “All of the tack is ready. Some of the harnesses are going to need some minor repairs, a few pins here, buckle there, maybe some new strapping. It shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle.”
“I can get the pins and buckles made easy enough,” Travis offered.
“Erica is arguing with Kline about the leather we need. He has concerns that we will be short on cold weather gear come the winter months.”
“What winter do we even have anymore? I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t even see snow this year,” Caperson added. “Just three months of rain and mud.”
“Exactly. The storehouse is nearly full, I think he just doesn’t like making the strapping. Feels it’s beneath him being a craftsman and all. Strapping just isn’t very fashionable.”
Travis smiled, “Erica can be pretty persuasive when she wants. He’ll be making more strapping than you could shake a stick at before long. Of course, it will probably still be monogrammed.”
Caperson added, “The guy can make some damn fine clothing, but he is really hard to work with sometimes.”
“That’s why we sent her there,” Niccole said with a chuckle. “She also wanted me to give you this,” she continued as she handed a short list to Travis.
“What’s this?”
“That is what we need for the wagon hitches. Most of it should be repairable but you might have to remake a few of the parts.”
“I’ll start after dinner.”
Niccole nodded, “That’s that then. I guess now we wait for Dylan to come back with whatever he finds. I really hate waiting.”
~8~
The sun was just crawling over the far mountain as Dylan finished rolling up his tent. He tied it together with the blanket then slid the entire thing into a waterproof bag. With a final lashing of leather straps, he secured it all to the saddle and climbed on his horse. He had used the side of a car as a wind break and checked it thoroughly for anything of value. It had been picked clean. Even the cloth on the seats had been removed. He laughed to himself when he found an ashtray full of loose change. The cloth on the seats was worth more than old-world money. The cleaned out car meant someone had been out here and possibly still was. Cloth from a car seat isn’t an immediate survival need. The fact that it was gone was a sure sign that there was someone living somewhere nearby. The seat coverings could be turned into clothing and blankets, both of which were something for long term needs.
He looked over his campsite one more time before giving Buck a nudge and heading further from home. The highway was getting rougher the further west he moved. It wasn’t just repairs that kept the roads together. The cars themselves, the winds they created and the tires they drove on kept weeds from taking over every crack and crevice. With the cars gone, nature took over with a vengeance. Every season more weeds, even trees, grew in the pavement cracks. Every season they pushed the gaps wider, crumbling more pavement and making room for more growth. Every year nature erased another layer of the world that man had built.
He passed several more cars. Most stopped in the middle of the road where they had run out of gas. One was wrapped around a tree just off the highway. The car appeared to have been going too fast for the turn and slid side-on into the massive cedar tree. The car was destroyed but thankfully there were no bones to be seen.
A gas station came into view as he rounded a wide, sweeping corner. One of the windows was shattered and the doors were wide open but other than that it looked untouched. As he coaxed Buck through the mud and gravel, something caught his attention. Around the puddle below him were several footprints. Human, barefoot and small. Somewhere nearby there were children, very young ones judging by their tiny size. Maybe six or seven years old. He smiled as he thought of Daniel’s little feet, only a tiny bit smaller than those in the mud below him.
The gas station and garage showed no signs of life, nothing beyond normal weathering and the hectic searches of those trying to survive in the early days. Knowing someone was able to scratch out a living and not be found by Corrupted or someone looking to do them harm led him to believe he would see nothing out of the ordinary. They would not make their home next to the road but they would make sure they could see who was coming and going on it. Out here in the wilds of Oregon, someone was managing to make do. He paused for several moments as he looked around. Nothing moved and he could hear no sounds that betrayed those watching him. They were here somewhere but they didn’t stay alive by running out to strangers.
After several more hours of riding he rounded a long, tight corner and found himself in front of a gaping chasm. A thin band of highway concrete spanned the distance. The bridge was ancient and worn even when it was still in use. The three-hundred foot span had several gaps in the pavement. As his gaze followed the bridge line to the far side, he could see where several massive boulders had smashed through the oncoming lane leaving only one side passable.
He dismounted and tied one of the leads to the bridge railing, “Hang tight, buddy. I’m going to take a look before your heavy butt goes clopping across and knocks something loose.”
Buck huffed then began grazing on the patch of grass at his feet.
Dylan walked carefully down the sidewalk, leaning over every few feet to look at the support structure below the road. He knew he wasn’t an engineer but the bridge wasn’t going to be taking a full semi-load of traffic. They could go one at a time if it looked questionable. It felt solid enough as he walked on it but what was that worth?
He gave the large hole a wide berth as he moved across the bridge. On the hillside above the road he could see a clear path where the boulder had bounced down the hillside swatting trees and soil aside. He followed the path down the hill, through the roadway and into the heavy iron framework below. He could see many of the struts and supports bent and torn but could not see what was underneath where he stood. At the far side of the bridge he climbed down the embankment. The boulder that had blown through was buried deep in the mud and muck at the bottom of the ravine, twisted steel and chunks of pavement were piled up around it. As near as he could tell, the damage was limited to the road surface and most of the larger supports were left intact.
He nodded to himself as he made his way up the embankment, it would hold just fine. They would limit the crossing to no more than two wagons at a time just to be safe. He fel
t confident that it would hold but better safe than sorry. The lane that was open would only leave three or four feet of clearance as they passed but if they took it slow it wouldn’t be an issue.
The loose gravel made climbing back up harder than he had thought it would. In short order he found himself sweating from the exertion. As he struggled to find a handhold on the steep hill there came a long, powerful cry from the top of the bluff. Dylan’s blood turned to ice as he saw the Hunter silhouetted against the blue sky above. He instinctively reached for his slung rifle but it was still in the saddle-side holster at the far side of the bridge. As he went for his pistol, the Hunter attacked. The beast’s powerful legs flexed as it launched itself down the hillside. Dylan stumbled to get out of the way but the Hunter grabbed at his jacket as it scrambled to sink his talons into Dylan’s side. He yelled in anger as the weight of the monster pulled him off his feet and down the side of the hill.
The two rolled several times down the rocky hillside as the loose gravel rapidly became a small landslide. Rocks and gravel bounced off the two as they rolled and fought down the steep incline. The Hunter’s jaw clamped down time and again on open air as it fought to bite its prey.
They came to a stop in the small creek at the bottom, the Hunter sitting astride Dylan while he struggled to hold the thing’s neck. It let out a second scream then snapped his jaws toward Dylan’s face.
“Should have bit me when you had the chance,” Dylan said before he fired a single round into the monster’s chest.
The Hunter’s jaw dropped open as it looked down at the hole. It stood up and clawed several times at its chest while it staggered backward. It was the first time Dylan had seen shock on the face of a Corrupted. Its jaw opened and closed in spasms as the Hunter’s body began to shake uncontrollably. It struggled to understand what was happening and why it couldn’t make its body do what it wanted.
The hole at center of its chest began to foam and grow as if acid had been poured into the wound. The Hunter arched its back violently as it began to scream. Nothing but bloody purple colored foam came from between the jaws of large teeth. Blood began to flow heavily from the pockets on the side of the thing’s head, holes that passed for ears. It dropped down on all fours as it continued to shake violently before collapsing. A hole formed in its back as the Dust ate the Hunter from the inside out. The entire body trembled and shook as it boiled away from the inside.
Dylan watched in fascination as the Hunter continued to dissolve from the inside. With a heavy push of his booted foot, the Hunter rolled several times down the gravel valley into the creek. It shook convulsively several more times before the rushing water pulled the body into a deeper pool where it sank from view. Nothing remained but a steady stream of bubbles from the dead beast.
This Corrupted had been lean, too lean. A loner, living off the land. It had probably been from the Sumter hive and surviving in the hills. He checked the wound on his shoulder, the thing’s talons had punctured his jacket but only nicked him. The bleeding had already stopped. He listened carefully for any other Corrupted but heard nothing but soft breeze through the pine trees and the huff of an impatient horse three-hundred feet away.
He pulled two of the forty-five caliber bullets from his belt and slid them into the top of the pistol magazine. In a hollow cavity at the tip of the bullet was a bright blue mass. Travis had put together a mixture of candle wax and Dust.
Dylan smiled to himself when he pictured Travis jumping for joy when he heard how well they worked in a trial by fire. He holstered his ancient Colt and began the long climb back up the gravel hillside.
As he reached the far end of the bridge he threw Buck a dirty look, “Thanks for the heads up, pal. You could have made some kind of noise you know.”
Buck looked at him with his doughy eyes then burped up part of a previous meal. He chewed several times as if waiting for Dylan to carry on the conversation then found something more interesting to look at.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Dylan asked.
The horse looked everywhere but at Dylan.
He smiled at the old horse, “You know, Buck, it’s a good thing I like you. We might have an issue otherwise.”
Dylan patted the horse and pulled the reins down from the saddle so he could lead the horse across the bridge. He looked over the side of the bluff and could see the signs of their struggle down the hillside, freshly torn up trails in the rock and soil made a path more than a hundred feet down the side of the hill. At the bottom, other than a small purple stain, there were no signs of the dead Hunter. That made it less likely that any other passing patrols would take notice and try to investigate.
“Think I need to be a tad more careful out here. What do you say, Buck?”
His horse burped again and began walking forward.
“You and I need to have a chat. I think we aren’t quite working on the same wavelength. We’re a team, you look out for me and I don’t turn you into burgers.”
He chuckled quietly to himself. Buck had been his horse for going on two decades and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He rode for another hour in complete silence. He passed several more abandoned cars, two of which didn’t look as if they had been picked through yet while the third was nothing but a burned out hulk. From the looks of the pavement around the car, Sappers had struck. The ground for several feet around the car looked to be melted. A mile past the burned out car, he found a small restaurant that had burned to the foundation. It too appeared as if Sappers had been the cause. His mind drifted to the small restaurant in Colfax where he would occasionally get breakfast. He smiled for a moment as he drank in the smells of a warm morning meal. The clink of silverware as patrons ate their morning waffles and pancakes. The sound of bacon frying in a cast-iron skillet. Eggs being whisked feverishly, the cook proud of his lighter-than-air omelets.
Instantly he snapped back to reality as it occurred to him that the smell of breakfast cooking was real. Eggs and some kind of meat were being cooked somewhere nearby. The breeze was very light but coming from somewhere to his right. A cliff wall rose nearly one-hundred feet before leveling off. Whoever was up there would be able to watch large sections of the road and see people, or ‘Rupts, coming from miles away. He could see no way, up or down, that would allow someone to get up there from the road.
They were up there and would remain hidden. He had neither the time nor the will to climb the wall and find them. If they were alive today, they would be alive when the convoy came through. He continued down the road.
It had been an uneventful few hours when movement more than a quarter-mile up the highway caught his attention. Two Hunters moved down the road. A patrol from the hive they thought was out there somewhere. Two Hunters was a patrol. Their guess that a hive was here appeared to be correct.
He stepped down from Buck and pulled his Marlin lever-action rifle out of the long, saddle-mounted holster. He pulled the lever down slightly to verify it had a round in the chamber. The large caliber bullets had the same, lethal load of Dust that his pistol did but hit with nearly three times the energy. He lay down prone on the damp pavement and carefully sighted in on the left Hunter. It was more than two hundred yards as near as he could guess. With a slight click, he pulled the hammer back and let the crosshairs hover a few inches over the bobbing head of the slowly approaching beast. He drew in a deep slow breath and exhaled as Whitey had taught him. With an even, constant pressure he eased the trigger in. The rifle bucked as the bullet left the barrel. The gunshot was loud and echoed over the nearby hills for what seemed like minutes. He cycled another round into the chamber and repeated the process on the second Hunter.
At the bend in the road a quarter of a mile away two black lumps lay still in the road. After several minutes looking down the road through the scope, he rolled on his side and pulled two replacement rounds out of his belt and slid them into the side of the rifle.
He stood up and held his rifle at the ready expe
cting more to come around the corner. None did. After five minutes had passed he mounted up and continued his ride, ever closer to a hive he could not see. Both Hunters sent small clouds of steam climbing over the road from their still foaming wounds.
He gave the dead things a wide birth as he followed the highway west. The road condition continued to worsen but he could quite plainly see where the Hunters walked on their patrols. A meandering path in the weeds wove its way down the center of the pavement, occasionally winding to one side of the road or another without apparent reason.
“One hour closer, Buck. Then we turn back. We are a long ways from home and I don’t feel like arguing with Coco about why I got into a fight with a bunch of ‘Rupts while alone. She’s already going to want an accounting of every round I’m missing.”
He continued down a lonely stretch of highway that ended on the valley floor before turning further southwest in a straight shot that allowed Dylan to see for more than two miles. He could see the blobs of blackness moving toward him even at that distance. Another patrol, two more Hunters out looking for signs of human activity. He debated turning and heading home without taking a shot but then he would feel them behind him the entire way home. They were far enough away that there would be little risk.
He lay prone on the pavement for fifteen minutes before they were within acceptable range. Now that they were closer, he could see there was a Worker several yards behind them. He was close to the hive now, too close. He dropped the first Hunter and put a bullet through the head of the second before it could start to scream a warning. The Worker simply stopped. There was no look of confusion, it simply didn’t see the Hunters moving so it stood and waited for orders. The bullet entered just below the jawline and it joined the other lumps of trash laying on the pavement.
