Into the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  And then there was the big conundrum: what were they going to do with the girl? He couldn’t just leave her, not in the condition she was in. She’d be a sitting duck. Taking her with them concerned him as well. Ed had been traveling with only the boys for a long time. They had a system, they relied on each other, and they were family. They were a team. Taking on someone else meant they would need more supplies and he would now have to be responsible for yet another person. She might slow them down, maybe even get them all killed.

  But, despite his initial misgivings, Ed was beginning to like her. So were the boys. He thought about Sarah and how pitiful and tragic she had been in the end. He remembered how helpless he had felt then, how completely useless his efforts to save her had been. In the end he did end her suffering, but he didn't save her. This time around he had a second chance to get it right.

  All this internal dialog assumed she actually wanted to travel with them. For all he knew she might want to go it alone, exactly as she had been doing when they found her inside that Target. He had to consider that possibility. It would be as much her decision as it would be his.

  Movement near the road caught his eye, ripping him from his thoughts.

  It was a carrier.

  “Get down,” he whispered to the boys, pointing in the direction of the thing. He slowly moved from the front steps to where the boys were sat. They crouched down behind a porch swing, hoping it and the thick slats supporting the front railing would be enough to keep them concealed.

  “Don’t move,” he told the boys. “If it spots us go into the house immediately. I’ll be right behind you.” They nodded in acknowledgment.

  They watched as the carrier continued to make its way slowly along the highway, dragging one of its legs behind it. It was slow and meandering, almost confused in the way it walked. It looked near death, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t charge if it saw them.

  After a several more minutes the carrier had walked far enough away that they felt it was safe to move again. Ed couldn't sit on the porch anymore; it was too dangerous. Maybe it had been a bad idea all along. They walked back into the house, then closed and locked the front door behind them.

  Ed turned to the boys, his face painted with consternation. “We need to get moving soon.”

  Trish sat upright in the bed, eating another container of Spam. The color had returned to her face and the fever had all but disappeared. She was now finished with her antibiotic treatment and was on her first day without them. She was progressing well and feeling better than she had in weeks.

  Ed didn't tell Trish about the carrier he'd seen from the front porch. He didn't want to upset her, especially since there was nothing she could do about it anyway. Instead he brought the boys up to her room to allow them to spend some time together.

  The boys told Trish all about their time spent on the road. She listened intently to their stories, nodding where expected and asking questions. They seemed to get along well. Ed wished they had something else to talk about, but the truth was they didn't.

  They had just finished telling her about Zach’s run-in with the carrier at the sporting goods store some weeks back. Zach seemed a bit sheepish about it, but Jeremy told the story with real conviction. He beamed when he got to the part where Ed had stormed in and killed the carrier with the baseball bat.

  Seeing that Zach had become a bit uncomfortable with their discussion Ed stepped in and brought things to a halt. “Alright guys,” he began, “how about you two get back over to our room and play for a while? Trish has heard enough stories for today.”

  “Do we have to?” Jeremy asked. Ed nodded.

  “C’mon,” Zach pushed. “Dad said we need to go.” Jeremy shot him a disapproving look. The boys walked out of the room with Zach in the lead.

  Ed pulled up the chair from the kitchen then sat down beside the bed. “How’s the Spam?” he asked.

  “Good,” she replied, looking at him. He looked down at his hands. An awkward silence followed. “Something tells me you’re not all that interested in how good the Spam is.”

  He looked up at her and smiled. “You’re pretty observant,” he said.

  She smiled back then stuck the fork in the remaining Spam before setting the can down on the nightstand. “What do you want to talk about then, if you don’t want to talk about Spam?” she asked.

  Ed wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He decided the best thing was to just come out with it and see where the chips fell.

  “We’re going to be leaving soon, maybe sooner than you might expect,” he began.

  She nodded.

  “It’s completely up to you, but this farmhouse is just a temporary stay for the boys and me,” he continued. “We’re running low on supplies, so we’re gonna have to get moving again soon.” That was, of course, only part of the reason.

  Trish looked at him, a slight smile forming on her lips. “And you want to know if I want to come with?”

  “You are observant,” he said, chuckling.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Ed said.

  Trish laughed. “Well, maybe a little thought.”

  Ed finally decided he’d beaten around the bush long enough. He just needed to come out with it. She was either going to come with them, or she wasn’t. He started to ask, but never made it that far.

  “Carriers!” he heard Zach yell as he came barging into the room. His eyes were wide with concern. “Out front!”

  Jeremy raced in behind him. “Lots of ‘em, too,” he added. “They’re headed toward the house!”

  Ed looked at Trish. The humor in his face had washed away. He had hoped they would have more time. “Can you walk?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Can you run?”

  “I think so,” she answered.

  Ed turned to Zach. “How close are they?” he questioned.

  “I don't know exactly, pretty close,” he replied, his voice shaking.

  Ed turned back to Trish. “Get dressed as quickly as you can. We're getting out of here.” He didn’t wait for a response. He raced into the bedroom he and the boys had been using then peered out the window. There were dozens of carriers descending upon the house, just as the boys had described. They needed to get out fast; they would be sitting ducks on the second floor.

  He ran back toward the back of the second level; from the window he could see as many carriers as were in front. They were flanking them from both sides like a hunting pack.

  The doors and windows were somewhat secured, but that would only buy them a little time. Eventually the whole lot of them would come crashing down upon and they would make it inside. The only question was how long would that would take. As if to answer that question Ed heard a loud crash from downstairs. It was the unmistakable sound of a window breaking. They couldn't make the jump from the second floor so that left them only one option; they would have to shoot their way out.

  “Boys, get your packs on and follow me,” he commanded. They did as instructed. He walked over to Trish’s room, the boys in tow. She was struggling to get her coat on, but was otherwise dressed. Ed helped her with the coat.

  “I think at least one is in the house,” he told her. “Probably more by now.”

  “Shit. I heard a window break,” she replied. “What's the plan?”

  Ed was surprised by her calm exterior. She had been through a lot already though, he reminded himself. “We’re going to go out through the front door, then we’re going to make a break for the highway.”

  “Are you crazy? How are we going to get through all the carriers downstairs?” she asked.

  “Shoot anything that moves,” he replied.

  Zach and Jeremy stood behind him. Their faces were covered with their masks, their eyes covered with their goggles. Ed put his on as well. He looked around, the pulled out his knife, cutting a thin line of fabric from the bedsheet. “Tie this around yo
ur mouth; it'll have to do for now.”

  As Trish tied her makeshift mask onto her face, Ed continued. “Stay together, in a single line. Don't separate. We head straight for the door. Like I said, shoot anything that gets in your way. Understand?” They boys nodded, their eyes wide with anxiety.

  “It'll be okay,” he told them. The words felt hollow on his tongue.

  They walked to the top of the steps, then paused. Ed looked at Trish and the boys, then nodded. They could hear the commotion downstairs as the invading carriers wrecked the place. The boys drew their guns, and then they all started down the steps.

  Before they could make it three steps a carrier appeared at the bottom. It caught sight of Ed and his group, then stopped to watch them. They stood this way for several second, then it then opened its mouth and began screaming. It scrambled up the steps madly, ready to attack.

  Ed quickly put a bullet in the thing's chest. It fell backward, tumbling down the steps, landing hard at the bottom where it lay dead. Ed heard another deadwalker scream from somewhere on the first floor; the sound of the shot had their attention now.

  Ed and the others arrived at the bottom of the steps, then turned ninety degrees and headed toward the front door of the house. They ran in a tight group, just as they discussed. Ed saw three carriers in the house, all situated between them and the door. He shot them all, using up four bullets to do it. The carriers fell to the ground, two of them screaming from gutshots. The room smelled like urine, meat, and feces.

  Ed heard a shot from behind him. He turned to look and saw a carrier go down from Jeremy's pistol. He was glad they had found that gun. The living room was now clear, so they sprinted for the front door.

  Suddenly Trish screamed. “Ed, to your right!”

  Ed turned quickly in that direction as a carrier charged from the side. Ed brought it down with a lucky shot to the throat. Trish turned and covered her face with her hands, trying to avoid any blood spatter.

  After what seemed to them like an eternity, they got to the door. It was blocked by the chair Ed has placed under the door handle. They stood there, feeling more exposed than ever while Ed wrangled the chair out from under the door knob. The seconds ticked by like hours.

  He finally removed the chair, tossing it to the side. He then opened the door, peeking his head through to check the porch for carriers. There were five carriers on the porch with a handful more walking aimlessly in the front yard. He looked at Zach and pointed toward the two carriers to their left. They didn’t have time to discuss a plan; more carriers were entering the house behind them; they could hear more glass breaking as the screaming intensified.

  Ed ran through the door and onto the front porch; the others followed. Zach turned and shot the carriers his dad had assigned him while Ed took down the other three. By then the remaining deadwalkers outside had taken notice and were descending upon them.

  “This way!” Ed shouted, pointing toward the highway.

  They ran down the front steps and off the front porch, then onto the main walk. They followed a straight line toward the highway, shooting any carriers that got too close. By the time they’d made it through the crowd there were a dozen dead or wounded carriers in their wake.

  They continued to run as fast as they could, across the farmland between the house and the highway. Ed looked back and saw three carriers in pursuit. These were healthy and fast.

  “Keep going!” he yelled to Trish and the boys, then he stopped short. As instructed Trish and the boys continued to run. Ed dropped to one knee, steadied the pistol with using both hands, then fired off five shots. He brought two of the carriers down, but the third one kept running. Ed squeezed the trigger, and then heard the sickening sound of the firing pin striking an empty chamber.

  The clip was empty.

  He quickly shoved the gun back into the holster, then pulled the baseball bat from his backpack. He was about to stand up when the carrier leapt toward him. Ed fell to the side, avoiding the carrier's grasp, rolling with the baseball bat in hand. The carrier hit the ground hard, then attempted to rise.

  Trish and the boys had stopped running and were waiting for Ed to catch up with them when they saw the attack.

  “Dad!” Zach yelled as he ran back toward his father. Trish and Jeremy followed.

  Ed regained his footing, just as the carrier had gotten to its hands and knees. He took three steps toward it, then brought the baseball bat down on the back of the thing's head. It dropped to the ground, blood pouring from the wound on its head, its body twitching.

  He didn't stop to see if the thing was dead. He turned back toward the highway and ran, catching up with Trish and the boys. He wiped the bat on the grass, then placed it back into the backpack.

  “Run,” he told them, looking backward as they make their way away from the farm house and toward the highway. Two carriers were making some progress, but they weren't fast enough to catch up. They could outrun them; he was sure of that.

  He turned back toward the road, ensuring the boys and Trish were with him. He located both boys, but Trish was gone. He looked back and saw a body lying on the ground behind them.

  Trish had collapsed.

  CHAPTER 12

  Brenda and Tammy traveled with their new companion along the silent highway. His hands were still bound, but as act of compassion Brenda tied them in front of his body to give him more freedom of movement and make him more comfortable. Dave knew it was also a good faith gesture on Brenda's part and he appreciated that.

  Two days had passed since Dave’s memories returned. He spent a fair portion of the first day introverted and sad while randomly crying, and the girls had given him necessary space in which to do so. By the second day he was almost entirely lost in thought while they walked along the barren highway.

  As he walked he replayed the events of the shooting again and again in his mind. At first he couldn’t help but blame himself. He felt that there must have been something he could have done differently, some way he could have saved his wife and friend. The thieves had seemed inexperienced, and he was very sure of himself during the standoff. He remembered that much very clearly.

  But in the end he had underestimated just how dangerous they really were. By the time he realized this error both his wife and his friend were dead. Had his arrogance killed them or was it simple irresponsibility? He didn't know.

  He continued replaying the events again and again, searching for different outcomes, until eventually bitter reality took hold. No matter what should have happened, nothing could change what had actually happened. It was a cold and harsh reality, but in some strange way he actually took some comfort in it. It was all out of his hands, and had been all along. He was caught up in the shit storm of the virus' aftermath, no different than anyone else.

  At the end of the second day the trio set up a camp. The weather wasn’t particularly warm, but it was holding above freezing. They passed a two-story farm house earlier in the day and Dave could have sworn he saw people through the second floor windows. He pointed them out to the girls as they passed and they ushered him along.

  The prior night at camp all three had slept under blankets with no fire. Brenda shared a blanket with Tammy, and they gave Dave their extra. Neither of the girls trusted him enough yet to get close to him. They also alternated guard duty amongst themselves only, with part of their guard duty was keeping an eye on their new companion. Given the circumstances Dave found he couldn’t really argue with their logic.

  But tonight the three of them sat in a small circle in the dark in the dark, speaking very little. As he sat Dave thought about everything that had happened up to that point; how the girls had saved him, and how they were still keeping him around despite not knowing his background. He thought of Brenda cleaning blood off his face, her not knowing who that blood belonged to. These women had put themselves out for him, risked their lives even. It was his turn to make them understand that they hadn’t made a mistake.

  He decided that
he couldn’t say withdrawn forever; he had to come forward at some point. He cleared his throat, and the girls turned their attention toward him.

  “When the plague hit Sandy and I had just gotten married,” he began. “Sandy was my wife, and she was really a wonderful person.” He stared off into the dark forest. “We weren’t exactly kids when we were married, but we were still pretty young. Maybe too young, but who the hell ever really knows?”

  The girls didn't speak, but they watched at him, listening to his story. Tammy lit a cigarette from a crushed pack in her front pocket. She took a deep drag from the cigarette, then blew smoke into the crisp air before handing it to Brenda.

  Dave continued. “Anyway, we were pretty happy at first, at least I was, but Sandy never seemed to be able to find that same happiness. She was really depressed, she even saw a few different doctors about it; they medicated her and put her into therapy, which kinda helped. We got by. When the outbreak hit we went right to one of the border towns. We already lived close to the coast, so we made it there without much of a problem. I know now we were lucky.”

  Dave stopped for a moment. Revisiting it all was becoming more difficult than he imagined it would be. The death of his wife was still a very fresh wound.

  “Go ahead,” Brenda said in the dark.

  Dave continued. “The problems for us started afterward, after the virus lingered for so long and life didn’t go back to normal like they all said it would. We lived there in the border town for a while, maybe a year and a half. At first it wasn’t so bad, but then things changed. Our town was taken over from the inside by a...I don’t know exactly what to call him. A con artist maybe? He called himself a preacher, but he wasn’t, at least not like the preachers I grew up with as a kid. He was a crook and and a murderer. He controlled the weak ones through scripture; they were desperate to believe anything. The others he got rid of.