Into the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  I wish someone had been able to help you, he thought to himself as he stared at the shape under the sheet. He then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  He walked to where Jeremy and Zach sat then emptied the remaining shells from the pistol, then placed it into Jeremy’s backpack. “Don't use it until I tell you,” he told him.

  “Okay, dad,” Jeremy replied.

  “That was a boy in there, wasn’t it Dad?” Zach asked.

  Ed looked at him. They'd seen enough to know; whatever doubt they might have had was erased by the look on his face. “Yeah, buddy, it was.”

  “Thought so,” he replied.

  Ed zipped up Jeremy’s backpack. He wanted to tell them he'd protect them, no matter what, but he knew he couldn't promise that. They knew it too.

  “We gotta move,” he said to the boys. He explained the plan: hit the street and don't stop until the highway.

  Ed unlocked the door, opened it, and stuck his head out. He looked up and down the street and saw no movement.

  He took a deep breath. “Now,” he said.

  They opened the door and ran without looking back. They didn’t stop until they reached the highway.

  They arrived at the farmhouse well before nightfall. They walked directly up to the room where they’d left the girl. Ed had the boys wait outside the room while he tended to the girl. He removed his gloves, then held the back of his hand under her nose to check for warm breath. It was shallow, but there. He glanced at the water; she had drunk the whole glass sometime that day. He felt that was a good sign.

  He refilled the water, then removed his backpack, placing it on the floor beside the bed. He rummaged through it and found the antibiotics. He removed two capsules, then placed the first one into her mouth, closing her jaw with his hands.

  As he reached for the glass of water to wash the pills down the girl's eyes suddenly opened wide and she she spat the pill out. She looked frantically at Ed, still in the surgical mask and goggle, then screamed. Ed attempted to restrain her, but she struggled to push him away. Then he felt her lift his pistol from the holster.

  The girl sat up, eyes wide, swaying unsteadily. Her eyes fluttered.

  She pointed the pistol at Ed then spoke in a low, determined voice.

  “Don’t...fucking...move.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Move your ass!” Brenda yelled, giving Dave a hard shove. He ran. Tammy fired off two shots, taking down the two closest carriers, then she ran as fast as she could to catch up. They continued running, away from the carriers and back the way they came. They turned once more to see how many were following them; Brenda counted eight, but they were relatively slow.

  They crashed into the dried cornstalks, Brenda in the lead and Tammy bringing up the rear. She realized she was dragging Dave by the sleeve of his coat. At least he was was complying, but he seemed to not understand the gravity of their situation.

  They could hear screaming behind them, but as they made their way through the dense cornfield the screaming became noticeably quieter. The carriers were too lame to follow them with any real efficiency and before long they lost them. They continued running for a few more minutes though, just to be sure they left them far enough behind.

  Eventually they slowed to a walk. Before long they emerged from the corn to find they were at a fence. Another ten yards past the fence was the highway. Brenda couldn’t help but feel open and exposed while on it, but after the run-in with the carriers back there she wasn’t feeling any safer off the road.

  First, however, she needed to secure their new friend. She returned the pistol to her front pocket, then turned to Tammy, who was out of breath.

  “Cover him,” she told her. Tammy pointed the rifle at Dave. “What are you gonna do?” she asked, breathing hard.

  “I’m going to give us a little piece of mind,” Brenda said, between rapid breaths. She sat her backpack down on the ground, then fumbled through it. She retrieved a length of rope, measured some out, then cut it with the knife she stored in her back pocket.

  “Hands behind your back, Mr. Dave,” she said. He complied without even speaking, his breathing elevated from the run. “Nothing personal,” she added as she walked behind him, binding his wrists with the rope. She wasn’t an expert in knots but she felt confident enough it would hold. She gave the rope a tug just to be sure. It seemed secure enough.

  “Too tight?” she asked him. He just continued staring forward. She grabbed his shoulder and gently shook him, looking him in the eye. “Dave, is this too tight?” she repeated. He shook his head from side to side to indicate it wasn’t.

  “Good.” She walked back around in front of him. “Once we get to know you better we'll talk about untying you.” He looked right through her.

  She turned to Tammy. “We gotta get that blood off his face; it’s creeping me the fuck out.”

  After finding a small stream Brenda washed the blood from Dave's face. If he was bothered by the cold water it didn’t show. He was still vacant, staring off at nothing in particular. He was following orders well enough though, so that kept Tammy from complaining too much about the situation Brenda had gotten them into.

  After he was properly washed up the group continued walking. They didn’t speak for some time; they just tread the miles, one after the other. Dave offered no conversation, nor did he complain about the walking. He never asked for a break, for food, or for water. He just walked wherever he was directed.

  They walked like this for most of the day along the highway, stopping periodically to rest. Dave took water when offered, but ate nothing. He was no more conversant during the breaks either.

  An hour or so before sunset the girls decided to make a camp for the night. It was still cold, but at least the temperature had now risen above freezing. Brenda hated the cold and she hated the winter. She hoped the rise in temperature meant Spring was on its way. If not, even a short reprieve from the cold was welcomed.

  The girls made their camp off the road, in a spot about fifteen feet into the woods. They decided to go ahead and build a fire, even the though the temperatures were milder than they had been the past few days. It would warm them, and as Tammy pointed out it would allow them some light to keep an eye on their new friend. Brenda could tell Tammy still didn’t trust him. She thought that was understandable.

  There were plenty of dead limbs lying around, so they gathered up enough to keep the fire burning most of the night. Some dried tree bark and leaves served as tinder, catching the spark from Brenda’s flint nicely. It wasn’t long before they had a warm fire going.

  They sat, silently leaning against leafless trees, watching the fire for some time. It gobbled up the wood, hissing, and crackling as it consumed the fuel. Dave remained silent, choosing to stare intently into the flickering flames rather than speak. Brenda and Tammy sat across from him, a few feet apart. They watched him closely.

  Tammy finally broke the silence. “Why is he here?”

  Brenda looked at Tammy, then her gaze fell on the fire. She didn't immediately answer the question.

  Tammy continued, insistent on an answer. “I mean, he’s the not the only uninfected person we’ve come across. You never took any special interest in the few we ran across in the past. Hell, we avoided them. What’s so different about this guy?” She waved her hands around trying to get Dave’s attention. He continued staring into the fire. “See? He’s fucking gone to Pluto.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Brenda replied. “I think he’s still in there...somewhere”

  “What make you say that?”

  “I think this might be a stress reaction.”

  “You mean like shock?”

  “More or less, yeah.”

  “How would you know?” Tammy asked.

  “I’ve seen something like it before, is all.” She paused. “Well, I guess I sorta went through it myself.”

  “What do you mean?” Tammy asked.

  Brenda took a moment and inha
led deeply, then continued. “You remember me telling you about those douchebags I used to date, right?”

  “Yeah. They sounded like real winners.”

  Brenda continued. “Well, some years back, before the outbreak, there was a particular douchbag who answered to the name of Duane Cummings.”

  “I don’t think I remember you ever talking about him.”

  Brenda paused, then sighed. “I know. I never told anybody about Duane. It was a rough period in my life; probably the worst.” Another pause. “No, on second thought, it was definitely the worst.”

  Tammy listened in silence.

  Brenda continued. “I met Duane just after high school. He was older than me, and from the way he told it he could walk on fucking water. My mom and dad were drunks, so there wasn't a whole lot of time left for me. I had no friends. Duane seemed to be the only person in the world who could see me.

  “Problem was Duane was crazier than a shit-house rat. Fucking paranoid jealous, really. Under all his bullshit was a scared little kid with no self-esteem. It got worse as it went on, then the shit hit the fan after I moved in with him. Eventually I had enough, and I knew I had to leave.”

  She paused, watching as the yellow-orange flame slowly consumed the tree limbs they’d piled on. She instinctively looked around for carriers, saw none, then continued speaking.

  “Finally one day he damn near killed me.”

  “Fuck me,” Tammy said.

  Brenda continued. “I don’t remember what started it. Probably something stupid. He was always so mad; mad at the fuckin’ world. I was just another thing to be mad at that day. Before I knew it, he’d bitten my tongue halfway off, fractured my eye socket, and broke three of my ribs.”

  “Holy shit! That is seriously fucked up,” Tammy responded.

  “Yeah. He smashed my face through a wall. Luckily I missed the wall stud by like two inches. It not, I'm not sure I'd be alive today.

  “After Duane beat the shit out of me and left me for dead, I just sort of checked out. I got into my car and drove. I had blood gushing from my mouth; hell, my tongue was only partly attached still. My nose was bleeding and there was blood dripping from cuts around my eye socket. As bad as it sounds I didn’t even feel it; not right then at least.

  “The cops said I drove to a McDonald’s about a mile down from the house. I walked into the lobby and just stood there asking what time it was. It freaked everybody out and they called 911.

  “At first I didn’t remember any of it; Duane beating the shit out of me, driving to McDonald’s, or the first day in the hospital. It took a couple days before I got my wits back. I noticed that my tongue hurt like hell, then I noticed I was in a hospital room. After that it all started coming back.”

  Brenda looked over at Dave for a few seconds, thinking. “The thing is, Tammy, I think our new friend here’s got the same thing, or something like it. Something happened to this guy, something bad, and I think he’s just...checked out.”

  “You don’t think he’s faking?” Tammy asked.

  “I don’t. That’s why I couldn’t leave him back there. He’s not himself. I don’t think he even knows where he is right now. He can’t make decisions. I know what it’s like to go through something like that.

  “I asked myself back there, what would I want someone to do for me if the shoe was on the other foot? Then I thought, what would my grandma think if she knew I just left him there? That kicked my ass into gear. I couldn’t bear the thought of her disappointment, even fourteen years dead. I never could when she was alive, either.”

  Tammy craned her neck around to look more directly at Dave. She examined him, as if she were trying to figure out what he was. “How long do you think he’ll be like this then?”

  “It’s hard to say. I came out after a couple days. He might do the same, but it could be longer. Either way when he does come to his senses, I want him tied up. When he remembers whatever it was that happened to him, I don’t know how he’s gonna react. He might go nuts, he might not. Hands bound is how we want him to stay.”

  Brenda stared into the crackling, orange fire for a while, watching the embers glow. The warmth felt good against the unexpected night chill. “I’ll take the first watch,” she told Tammy. “Try to get some sleep; I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

  “You gonna be okay with him?” Tammy asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m taking you up on that offer then.” Tammy stood up to get her bedroll from her backpack.

  “Brenda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for taking watch.” Tammy paused. “And sorry about all that Duane shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Whatever happened to him?” Tammy asked.

  “Cops picked him up after I showed up at McDonald’s. He went to jail for eighteen years. The state got him on attempted murder; he’d been bragging to his cousin about how he was going to kill me. I found that out later. I always thought blood was thicker than water, but his cousin testified against him and Duane went down.”

  “Well, I hope that cocksucker starved to death in his cell,” Tammy said.

  Brenda smiled. “I do too.”

  * * *

  “Put your hands in the air,” the man with the gun on the left said. He was short, squat, and balding.

  No one moved.

  “DO IT!” the other man yelled. He was taller than the first man with lighter hair. Both men had beards of considerable length, and both carried pistols.

  “Drop the goddamn guns,” the balding man ordered.

  Dave considered their options. If he provoked these two they'd might all be killed. If they complied, they might live. That was a big maybe though. They couldn’t afford to be robbed and left with nothing; that fate was almost the same as death.

  Dave raised the shotgun. He thought he would be more afraid than he actually was. He was surprisingly calm. The men tensed; he could see it.

  “No,” he said. He then addressed his wife, his eyes never leaving the two thieves. “Sandy, get behind me.” She did.

  “Listen hero, I'll blow your brains out, fuck your little girl up the ass, then blow her brains out while your friend here watches,” the second man threatened.

  Dave glanced at Jim; his friend hadn't had time to pull the pistol before they were accosted. Jim shot a helpless look back. Once again, it was all up to Dave.

  “How do I even know that gun is loaded?” Dave asked the balding man.

  “You want to take your chances?” he replied.

  Despite his fear Dave continued to feel calm and confident. “I'm willing to bet that if I pull both triggers at the same time you’ll both disappear.”

  The light-haired thief looks worried, Dave thought. He felt like he had these guys where he wanted them. He was sure they'd back off this standoff, throw out some four-letter words, along with some empty threats and then walk away.

  He couldn't have been more wrong.

  He almost didn't hear the first shot. It happened so fast. Just a small crack, and then Jim dropped like a box of rocks. He heard a second crack and then felt a warm spray cover the side of his face, dripping into his left eye. Out of his peripheral vision he watched as Sandy fell, her hands going instinctively to her neck.

  Before he could process was was happening he heard a loud boom. He barely felt the considerable recoil of the shotgun as both barrels went off in his hands. The light-haired thief's chest turned red as hundreds of small buckshot tore through his skin and into his chest.

  The balding man screamed, grabbing his shoulder. A considerable spray of buckshot had penetrated his skin. He held onto his gun and attempted to raise it to fire. Dave felt himself run toward the man, tackling him to the ground before the thief could squeeze off a shot. It wasn't until later he realized he'd been screaming the whole time.

  He landed on top of the balding thief and felt a hot pain as the the man punched him in the kidneys. Dave straddled the man's chest and bro
ught the butt of the shotgun squarely down on his nose. It exploded in a fine, red mist, then streams of dark, red blood ran from the nostrils.

  He brought the butt of the gun down once more, shattering the thief's eye socket. The man’s eyes were wide with fear as he watched the butt of the shotgun rise once more.

  Another blow and the man went limp. He never moved again.

  Dave lost count of how many times he smashed the butt of the shotgun down on to the man’s face. When he finally stopped the man's face was unrecognizable. It was a mess of tissue, blood, hair, and bone. The thief's eyes – both filled with pools of bright red blood - remained open, staring into the sky.

  Dave dropped the shotgun, then turned to find Sandy. As if still in a dream he crawled to her. When he reached her he saw she was holding a gaping wound in her neck. Blood poured through her fingers as she struggled to breathe. Hot tears formed in Dave's eyes as he watched his wife fight a losing battle for her life.

  Her eyes were wide, but unfocused. It was as if she didn't see him at all. He consoled her as best he could, holding her head and rocking her gently. Only once did her eyes meet his, and in this instant they shared all they could.

  Her eyes lost focus again and then she made her last attempt to draw a breath. He heard a sickening sucking sound as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. She exhaled, then her body relaxed. Her hand fell away from her neck, revealing a hole so large that Dave visibly winced. She was dead.

  He placed his forehead on Sandy’s; then he wept. He thought he might never stop.

  Jim had died instantly, or as near to instantly as Dave could figure. He was in such a fog he could barely think. The rational part of his mind, barely noticeable at this point, stopped functioning. He was numb all over, physically and emotionally. The blood he was covered in was drying, hardening on his face and hands.