Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  Which turned out to be later than she would've liked. Tom pushed them hard as the sun sank towards the horizon, wanting to make up the time they'd spent resting in some shade he found for them during the hottest part of the day.

  “Simon always stopped us earlier than this,” Kristy pointed out as she took her place behind the push bar. She'd delayed returning from scouting hoping by the time she came back it would be time to camp, but to her disappointment he'd relinquished the wagon without a word, announced a slight change to their direction, and prepared to head off to scout.

  The mountain man stopped and reluctantly came back. “He did,” he agreed. “But he was dealing with a group of more than sixty people. It takes a while to get that many people going or for them to settle in for the night. We don't need nearly that much time ourselves, and I'm sure you'd like to get a few extra miles in each day as much as I would.”

  Well she couldn't argue with that, although she muttered a few choice words at his back as he walked off. Too quietly for him or Skyler to hear, of course.

  The sun was almost touching the horizon when she finally caught up to Tom to find him standing near a fissure in the ground that was little more than a large crack. “No water tonight,” he announced as he took the wagon from her and started pushing it into the dubious shelter of the fissure. “But it'll keep us from getting scoured by windblown sand all night.”

  Kristy was so happy the day's slog was done that she didn't really care; they still had sufficient water, which meant this place was practically a luxury hotel as far as she was concerned.

  Before Tom could get them started setting up camp she rummaged around in the wagon and carefully lifted out one of the rifles he'd taken from the bandits. She looked down at it for a moment, telling herself learning to use it was important enough to keep her on her feet for another few minutes, even when all she wanted to do was collapse on the hard rock and pass out.

  As the mountain man watched her curiously she fumbled to eject the magazine and emptied the chamber. Then she brought it over to him. “I don't feel comfortable scouting without being able to defend myself. Would you be willing to show me how to use this?”

  Tom nodded. “I was going to bring it up if you didn't.”

  “Well good.” She glanced over at her son. “I've also thought about what you said about teaching Skyler. If you're willing, I'd like you to show him how to use one of these, too. Instruct him on gun safety, maybe take him through some drills. I think you're right it's too soon to for him to actually shoot a gun like this, but he should at least know how.”

  Her son beamed like the sun at that; even the news he wouldn't actually get to shoot at all didn't seem to dampen his enthusiasm.

  “All right,” Tom said. He took the rifle from her and did his own check of it, then handed it back and went to retrieve the other one from the wagon, similarly making sure it was emptied with no magazine inserted. Skyler dogged his heels, hands held up to accept the weapon, but before handing it to him the mountain man gave him a stern look. “I need to teach you the rules for safety before you get to touch this.”

  “But it's unloaded!” her son protested.

  Tom's look became even sterner. “Gun safety rules apply to all situations: loaded, unloaded, safety off, safety on, even if it's completely broken.”

  The mountain man quickly took Skyler through the basic rules, things like not pointing the gun at anything he didn't want to shoot, keeping his finger off the trigger until he was ready to fire, and how to carry the weapon safely whether it was unloaded, loaded with safety on, etc.

  Once that was done he finally gave the boy the unloaded AK-47. “Hold that in the carry position for now,” he instructed him firmly. Then he turned to Kristy and nodded to her weapon. “I'm going to set up five targets at 20, 40, 60, 80, and 100 yards. I'll give you five rounds and we'll take our time using them, one to each target. Hit three, doesn't matter which, and I'll give you five more and we'll do it again.” He smiled grimly. “Miss, and you'll spend the rest of the time doing dry fire drills.”

  “What about me?” Skyler asked, practically dancing in place.

  Kristy had to smile at her son's eagerness, and noticed even Tom holding back a smile as he answered. “You're going to practice holding the rifle in a carry position, raising it to firing position and taking aim, then doing your best to hold the sights steady on your target to a count of ten-one-thousand. Then you'll lower it back to carry for another ten count and do it all again.”

  Her son looked disappointed. “Seriously?” Tom just nodded, finally letting himself smile, and Skyler stuck out his lower lip. “For how long?”

  “Until you can't even hold it up for ten seconds, let alone stay on a target,” Tom replied. “Not that I expect you to be able to hold a target for any amount of time to begin with.” Her son's pout turned into a glare, but the mountain man didn't seem fazed by it. “It's basic physics, kid. You probably almost never use the muscles you need to hold a rifle steady in a firing position, and you just don't have the mass or upper body strength to compensate. Before you can learn to shoot you have to be able to actually hold the rifle steady long enough to aim it.”

  “I've been hauling a wagon all day and you want me to work on my muscles?” Skyler complained.

  Tom met his gaze impassively. “You want to learn to shoot, don't you?”

  Grumbling, her son did as instructed. And true to the mountain man's word his rifle wobbled so much he could barely look down the sights. Tom nodded in satisfaction at his efforts and turned to help Kristy.

  For all her amusement about Skyler learning to just hold the rifle, to her embarrassment she had nearly as much trouble. The loaded AK-47 seemed to get uncomfortably heavy awfully quick while she was trying to aim at the target, which wobbled drunkenly in the sights to the point where she wasn't sure she could keep the gun still long enough to squeeze off a shot.

  “Can't I prop it on something?” she complained to Tom after missing the 20 yard target.

  “If you find something handy when you're fighting for your life?” Tom shrugged. “Sure, every advantage counts. But that's a crutch, and you want to practice as if circumstances aren't going to be ideal. That means learning to fire standing up.”

  “I've been pushing a wagon all day, too,” she pointed out. He just grinned at her, almost as if he was enjoying this.

  Well, at least one of them was.

  They practiced for the next half hour or so, until Tom announced that they needed time to start the fire and set up camp before it got too dark. “We'll pick this up tomorrow evening,” he said as he retrieved the AK-47 from a weary Skyler, who looked relieved to not have to hold it anymore. Then he grinned at them. “Unless you want to practice during our midday rest.”

  Kristy made a face; the thought of doing all this in 115 degree temperatures with sweat streaming into her eyes and making her hands slippery wasn't appealing at all. Then again she was still determined to learn as quickly as possible. “We'll see,” she said, offering her own rifle to the mountain man. “Thank you for the lesson.”

  Tom waved for her to keep the weapon, then motioned to his own hunting rifle perpetually slung on his back. “You might as well get used to carrying it.”

  That seemed like a real nuisance, but she supposed it was probably a good idea. With a reluctant nod she slung the rifle over her own back as she followed the mountain man into the fissure, where he got busy making a small fire with sticks and chunks of wood he'd gathered during the day's scouting and had been carrying with him. It didn't seem like much, barely enough to last while they cooked their meal, but considering she hadn't taken the time to gather any firewood she could hardly complain.

  She'd have to make up for it tomorrow.

  Kristy got her son's help setting up their tent. “What will we have for dinner?” she asked Tom as they worked. “The meat's not done drying yet, right?”

  He nodded and glanced over at the racks, which he'd covered again
an hour or so ago to protect them from the night breeze. “Still got a couple days more, I'd say. But we can grab a few strips and toss them over the fire to cook.” He paused in setting the campfire and dug into the wagon, pulling out a jar. “And if you have no objections I figure we'll crack open the sauerkraut and have that, too.”

  Skyler made a face, but Kristy brightened at the suggestion. As a kid she'd hated sauerkraut, which wasn't really all that unusual she supposed. But ever since the Ultimatum she'd developed a real fondness for it, almost as much as for sweet treats whenever she could get them.

  Then again, she supposed any variety from the bland staples they'd been forced to subsist on for the last ten years was a treat.

  It didn't take long before the camp was set up and the half-dried meat was roasted over the fire. Tom shared it out with another kettle of his herb tea, and they all dug in enthusiastically.

  Or at least as much as possible on the tough, stringy meat. Kristy worked one mouthful for a minute or so, then just for some flavor shoved some sauerkraut in her mouth so she could stand to keep chewing. That helped a surprising amount, and she closed her eyes in silent appreciation.

  “Cut it into small chunks,” Tom said abruptly. She looked over at him and he pointed at his own plate, where he'd neatly cut the meat into almost ludicrously small bites. He was eating each with a bit of sauerkraut and didn't seem to be having any trouble chewing.

  That seemed like good advice. Kristy accepted the knife he offered and got to work cutting up her meat, then motioned Skyler over and did his too. “This sauerkraut is really good,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Now that it's unsealed it'll go bad pretty fast. Might as well eat as much as we can.”

  Pragmatic, as usual. She decided to lighten the mood with a joke Miles had liked to tell whenever they ate, looked at, or talked about sauerkraut. “Hey, have you heard of Cole's Law?” The man just answered with a shrug, taking another bite of food, but Kristy continued doggedly in spite of his lack of interest. “It says that anything you do with cabbage will make it taste better.”

  Tom continued to stare at her impassively and she felt some of her good humor wilt. “You know, coleslaw?” she persisted. At least Skyler had the decency to chuckle; he'd heard it a million times too, but he'd always been game when his dad repeated it.

  “Yeah, I get it.” The mountain man shifted his focus back to his food.

  A slightly uncomfortable silence settled. “My husband used to tell it all the time,” Kristy supplied.

  “Hmm.” The mountain man swallowed another bite and glanced at her. “Sounds like the kind of guy who'd name his horse Horse.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Skyler demanded heatedly, coming to his dad's defense.

  The mountain man didn't seem bothered by his tone, spearing another chunk of meat. “Nothing. That's what I named my horse.”

  Kristy finally saw the smile Tom had been trying to hide and realized the man was messing with them. Her son noticed it too and scowled. “Oh, like you'd have any funny jokes.”

  “Sure,” Tom said, still wearing that half smile. “What's the difference between a duck?”

  She blinked, not expecting such a nonsensical setup. Skyler's nose wrinkled in confusion as he answered. “What?”

  Her son had been asking for clarification as much as inviting the punchline, and the mountain man's slight smile widened as he speared another bit of meat on his fork while answering. “One leg is both the same.”

  They both stared at him. “That's a stupid joke,” Skyler finally said. “It's not even funny.”

  Tom smirked at him. “Maybe the fun comes from seeing people's reaction to it.”

  Her son made a disgusted noise and carried his plate of smaller cut meat chunks back over to his seat. Kristy had insisted he eat his share of sauerkraut and it was there on his plate, but so far he'd avoided it; she supposed in spite of Miles's jokes and their normally bland fare he hadn't developed a taste for it yet.

  “Eat your sauerkraut,” she told him firmly. He gave her a sullen look and she made her tone firmer. “You'll wish you had something besides meat before long. Eat.”

  “Never wishing for this,” he muttered. But he copied Tom in taking some sauerkraut with a bite of meat and eating them together, and kept it up without further complaints as they focused on their food in silence.

  “Just to satisfy my curiosity,” Tom said carefully after a few minutes. “When I came back to the convoy after giving the warning about the approaching bandits, I noticed the wagons were circled and not many people had tried to run or hide. Did you misunderstand my signals?”

  Kristy felt her face flushing. “No, we understood them. It's why I ran with Skyler.”

  He frowned. “But barely anyone else did?”

  She forced herself to sound calm as she answered. “Simon ordered the wagons to circle.”

  “After I warned you that the threat was too big to fight?” Tom pressed.

  Even though she didn't detect any judgment in his tone Kristy still had to fight down a surge of annoyance. “He did what he thought was best.”

  Kristy steeled herself for the man to condemn Simon for his decision. It was only fair, and certainly no less than she'd been doing during her less charitable moments since the attack. But surprisingly he just grunted and got back to gnawing on his meat.

  The lack of judgment for a mistake that had gotten three people killed and everyone else captured surprised her. “You don't disapprove?”

  The mountain man shrugged. “It is what it is. I warned everyone as best I could and they made their choice what to do with that warning. I regret they chose to try to fight, but looking back it's easy to judge their actions since we know the outcome of the attack, even if that's not entirely fair. Like you said, they did what they thought was best in the moment.”

  That was an unexpectedly generous perspective. Combined with Tom's lighter side that Kristy had seen from him earlier it did a lot to dispel the impression she'd had of him as a sour old loner.

  As they concentrated on finishing the meal Kristy once again found herself sneaking glances at their guide. In spite of herself she was curious to know how he'd come to live like he did, and decided she'd try to expand on the questions she'd asked the night before.

  “So Skyler told me you graduated college,” she said casually as she sipped the last of her tea. “What did you major in?”

  Tom snorted wryly. “Electrical engineering.” At her disbelieving look he shrugged. “Yeah, life's not without its ironies.”

  “I suppose you could still find uses for it?” she suggested doubtfully. She supposed mountain men didn't really need to know much about electrical circuits and things like that, assuming many electronics had even survived the Ultimatum for him to work on.

  The comment provoked further amusement from the mountain man. “Not in my current life.”

  “Right.” Kristy shifted on her rock. “Speaking of which, you never finished your story.” At his blank look she clarified. “How you ended up living alone in the mountains and growing the big old beard.”

  Tom shrugged, eyes drifting back to the fire. “Not much to say. Not long after I fled my old town the Ultimatum happened. I saw the mushroom cloud light up Utah Valley and the town was in the fallout zone, like I said. After that I headed south into the mountains, taught myself to hunt and trap and fish and find edible plants. Survived. Came down to settlements to trade. A few times a year headed off across the Southwest to see what was out there. That's about it.”

  That was a lot less satisfying story than the one about his town during the shortages. She decided to keep digging, ask what it was like up in the mountains, what he did with his time, how he'd survived the nuclear winters.

  But before she could he nodded her way. “How about you? How did you get through the shortages and Ultimatum?”

  Kristy shifted, surprised how uncomfortable the thought of talking about her own life made her feel. But
he'd been forthcoming to her, after a fashion, and it was only fair she return the favor. “I suppose there's not much to say for me, either . . . the shortages hit my family as hard as anyone's.” She paused, quelling a moment of grief before continuing. “My dad was killed in a home invasion by a couple thugs looking for food.”

  “I'm sorry,” Tom said quietly.

  She nodded and continued resolutely. “After that me and my mom moved in with neighbors, a boy I'd been dating for a few months and his family. They were pretty well prepared and we were able to survive the winter on what they had.” For a moment Kristy smiled, lost in her good memories of Miles and his parents during that difficult but in many ways wonderful time.

  Then her good humor vanished with what came next. “That was when the Ultimatum hit, and we were forced to flee the fallout zone. Our parents insisted me and Miles get away as fast as possible. They were going to gather up the food and follow us as soon as they could, and Miles had a place we were supposed to go to wait for them.”

  Kristy cut off abruptly and for a few moments couldn't speak, fighting back tears as a fresh surge of grief welled up in her. Grief that was swiftly joined by that from more recent losses.

  “They never made it?” Tom supplied gently.

  “They did.” She looked over at her son, who was staring at her solemnly. She and Miles had told him about his grandparents. “But they weren't able to outrun the fallout. They were exposed to a lethal dose of radiation, and the food and everything else they'd brought with them was contaminated. We were able to wash off most of the sealed containers and salvage them, but our parents got sick. They eventually died.”

  Kristy grit her teeth and looked away, the memory of that awful time rekindling her frustrated anger about Miles's pointless death. How could he risk the fallout zone after watching their own parents slowly waste away?

  When she looked back she saw Tom was watching her, piercing gray eyes full of sympathy. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly.