Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

  “I hope not,” she said fervently.

  “Same,” he said as he ducked into his tent, calling over his shoulder. “Night.”

  The next morning they got up early, contenting themselves with dried meat for breakfast. Tom didn't have to chivvy the other two to hurry, and within a half hour they'd packed up their tents and started on their way.

  He was torn between scouting farther ahead, knowing the chances of encountering a threat would be greatest over these last few miles, and being reluctant to get too far away from the young mother and child in case they ran into trouble. In the end he opted for staying close, but finding vantage points where he could spend long minutes peering through his binoculars.

  With the greener, slightly cooler landscape here the heat waves weren't as prevalent, letting him see farther. In fact, even though the route Tom had chosen for them took them through some seriously inhospitable areas closer to the Amarillo fallout zone on the approach to Newpost, after about an hour of scouting he spotted a farm breaking the monotony of scattered patches of grass and arid climate vegetation up ahead.

  He paused and took a closer look through his binoculars, noting the untended fields and signs of recent dilapidation in the house and outbuildings. The place looked abandoned, the house's front door ajar and single window broken.

  Wary, Tom continued to watch the farm for long minutes, searching for signs of movement as he heard Kristy and Skyler catching up to him with the wagon. The longer he stared the more the eerie quiet of the place unsettled him. Much like the abandoned fields and buildings themselves seemed to have been unsettled, he supposed.

  Had the people living there just fled to the safety of Newpost when the bandits came, or did this bode something worse? He'd skirted the few other signs of human habitation they'd passed, barely coming close enough to see them before changing course in case the people living there were hostile. Probably overly cautious, and Kristy had complained a bit about the missed opportunities for hospitality, but he'd insisted.

  Now he wondered if he shouldn't have at least gotten close enough to see if they, too, were abandoned. As it was, this eerie farm didn't seem like good news for their hopes of a prosperous Texas where the seeds of rebuilding the United States were being sown.

  It was probably stupid and reckless, but he decided to check out the house and see if he could find any clues to what had happened. He hurried back to warn the young mother and son to move cautiously and circle wide around the place, and let them know he planned to take a look.

  “Be careful,” Kristy said, expression worried.

  “I try to be.” Tom gave them both a grim smile and headed out again, moving as quickly as he could while maintaining some measure of stealth. His chosen approach to the farm kept it out of his view until he'd reached the last hundred yards or so, no easy feat on this relatively flat terrain, and before crossing that final stretch he took another long, careful look at the abandoned fields and buildings.

  Still no sign of movement, no sounds of people. He took a breath and moved low and quick across the distance to the open front door, peering inside.

  He immediately reeled back, coughing at the smell of death wafting from the room. He also caught a brief glimpse of dried blood splashed across a crude table and crusted on the floor. That was all he needed to beat a hasty retreat; the poor occupants of this place hadn't evacuated after all, and their neighbors hadn't had a chance to get out to bury them or learn of their sad fate.

  That filled Tom with even more misgivings about what they'd find when they reached Newpost. He caught up with Kristy and Skyler, shaking his head grimly at the young woman's questioning look, and when he came up alongside her whispered quietly for her ears only. “I think we should consider it likely that Newpost is under siege.” At the least.

  She shook her head firmly. “I'm sure everything will be fine once we get there.”

  Tom seriously doubted that, but the young mother didn't seem in a mood to argue the point. Maybe because all her eggs were in that basket and she didn't want to imagine it upset. “We'll find out soon enough.” He frowned ahead at the terrain. “Let's stick to cover from here on out. I'll pull the wagon if you and the boy want to scout. May need to separate, cover more ground. And be cautious.”

  Kristy nodded soberly and motioned to Skyler, laying out a patrol route for him as they walked away. Soon they sought cover and did their best to stick to it, and Tom was reasonably satisfied with how little he saw of them after that.

  Especially the boy . . . he seemed to have a knack for it.

  After about another two hours of walking he finally spotted a familiar landmark in the distance, and in spite of his trepidation about what they'd find at their destination he still breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  The hills up ahead weren't all that noteworthy, low and round and close together with a saddle in between that made them look vaguely like a camel's humps. In the last couple months he could've pointed to dozens of similar landmarks just along the path they traveled.

  But he was familiar with this area, and it was what was beyond those hills that made him so relieved to see them.

  Tom slowed down and panned his eyes over the landscape ahead, waiting until Kristy and Skyler came into view. Once he spotted them he gave a low whistle, waving to get their attention. The boy looked a bit disappointed as he joined his mother and both made their way back to the wagon. “Time to switch places?” he asked.

  “Nope. In fact I've probably got the last turn.” At their confused looks Tom pointed at the landmark ahead. “See those hills?” The two nodded. “You can see Newpost from up there.”

  Kristy's bright blue eyes filled with sudden eagerness. “We're that close?”

  He couldn't help but smile back. “Just a few more miles. We should be there in time for lunch.”

  Skyler practically danced in place. “Since we're scouting anyway can we run ahead and look?” he begged. “I want to see my new home!” His mother didn't say anything, but it was obvious she also desperately wanted a first view of the place they'd suffered so much for so long to reach.

  Well, how could he say no to that? Tom shrugged. “Just don't forget your caution. I'll be right behind you with the cart.”

  Skyler whooped, making Tom wince and look around warily at the carefree volume. The boy didn't notice and bolted away. And surprisingly, instead of calling for her son to wait Kristy ran after him laughing, showing an exuberance Tom hadn't seen in her since that evening in the river.

  It served as a painful reminder that she was almost a decade younger than him, and whatever she'd experienced in her life she still had that youthful energy and joy for life he'd almost forgotten the feeling of.

  His feelings as he plodded after them were conflicted; on the one hand all signs were pointing to bad news at Newpost. It would be better by far for all of them if the trading post was still up and prospering, and for the sake of the people living there he certainly hoped it was. But his pragmatic side couldn't help but point out that if something had happened to Newpost, that would mean he'd have to find some way to get Kristy and Skyler all the way back to Grand Junction.

  It would be a real challenge, maybe even impossible, but the silver lining was that he'd have a lot more time to spend with the young woman. A chance to see if there was something there. If he got them safely to a thriving Newpost and Kristy was in a position to start her new life there he'd have no excuse to stick around, aside from working up the courage to tell her how he felt.

  The prospect terrified him; what did a grim, jaded, barely presentable man who keenly felt every one of his 36 years have to offer a woman like her?

  Well, no sense speculating on the future when the answer literally lay just over the next hill.

  * * * * *

  “Wait up!” Kristy called to her son about halfway up the hill, slowing to a walk and panting in huge breaths. “I want to get to the top and see it with you!”

  Skyler reluctantly turned
back and rejoined her, taking her hand and tugging on it insistently. “Come on, we can rest at the top while we're looking at our new home!”

  She struggled as best she could, taking rubbery steps up the slope. It was well before noon and she was fresh and well rested, but even so this hill was steep. She didn't know where her son found the energy to frolic up it like a goat.

  Or, well, like a kid.

  “If they're trading with Central America do you think they'll have bananas and pineapples?” Skyler asked eagerly. He hadn't had either, of course, but he'd seen pictures in books and heard them described.

  Kristy hesitated. “I don't know. I think they're grown down there.”

  “I hope they've got them,” her son said, going up on his tiptoes as they neared the top of the hill and the land beyond began coming into view. “I bet traders bring all sorts of delic-”

  A noise suddenly caught her attention, one that had been hovering at the edge of her hearing and now finally registered. With a horrified gasp she grabbed her son and yanked him back from the top of the hill, dropping to the ground and pulling him down with her.

  Her son had frozen, eyes wide with fright. “What is it?” he hissed.

  Kristy shook her head grimly, good cheer plummeting. Tom had been trying to warn her, but she'd stubbornly refused to listen because she wanted, needed, Newpost to be an option. Because without it . . .

  Motioning for Skyler to be cautious she slithered the rest of the way up the slope and found a good rock to peek her head up beside, staring down at her first view of Newpost. Like Tom had warned it was still a fair ways away, but even so it was worse than her darkest dreams could've conjured up.

  A faint part of her had hoped that the engine noises meant that at worst the place was under attack. That the patrols they'd hid from that had all been coming from this direction were part of that besieging force. But of course like with all wishful thinking that was nonsense.

  “Binoculars,” she hissed in a low voice, holding her hand out to her son, who'd just come up beside her. Skyler, about to look through them himself, gave her a reproachful look, but she ignored it and snapped her fingers impatiently until he handed the battered field glasses over. Kristy didn't want to look, dreaded the sight, but that didn't stop her.

  A patrol of three vehicles was driving away from the earth bermed walls that surrounded a large, prosperous looking town. Inside the town itself dozens more vehicles, military trucks, SUVs, side by sides, and ATVs were all parked in a few heavily guarded motor pools. Soldiers roamed the streets, outnumbering the other people she saw by probably three or four to one. There had to be hundreds of men in uniform in all, many occupied overseeing emaciated prisoners laboring at various tasks.

  At a glance she could tell that the large, well protected city should've had thousands of people in it. But with the soldiers out and about everyone was either hiding in their houses or they were no longer there. Kristy shuddered to think they might've all been killed, but the fate of the convoy suggested it was more likely they'd been taken as slaves and shipped off to Central or South America.

  Just like the bandits who'd attacked the convoy, these soldiers looked like South or Central Americans, wearing the same uniforms just in case possessing working vehicles hadn't been an obvious tipoff. Which meant that rather than being some fringe group of outlaws it looked as if the bandits who'd attacked them had been raiders for a larger force, an invading force. Probably from the BRICKS remnant like Tom had guessed. And from the looks of things they'd been here for a while.

  Newpost had been occupied, and its remaining residents were being worked liked slaves.

  Kristy stared at the parked vehicles, the men with guns, the few Newpost citizens in sight trudging along carrying burdens or doing menial tasks as they were yelled at by guards. A few were even being beaten, cringing as the blows fell with the resignation of people with no hope.

  Near the center of town an outdoor laundry had been set up, and she gave a sudden hopeful start as she recognized Brad's wife Val, or widow now, she supposed. The woman was skeletal, arms visibly shaking from the effort of beating at soaking uniforms with a paddle.

  In spite of the shock of seeing the poor woman in such a state Kristy still felt a surge of hope. Val had survived! And if she was here that meant the other settlers from the convoy might also be.

  But the hope quickly faded when Kristy noticed Val's torn clothes and the nervous, furtive way she worked. Then she watched with silent horror as the woman froze when a passing guard came up behind her and began groping her. That horror turned to sick revulsion as the man grabbed the poor widow by the arm and began pulling her towards a nearby building.

  Kristy wasn't sure which was worse, knowing the fate Val faced or the fact that she went meekly, her expression one of blank despair.

  She dropped the binoculars and slumped down behind the rock, hugging her knees to her chest. No. No no no! No, this wasn't happening. They hadn't pushed a cart for almost three months, hadn't watched friends and neighbors murdered and taken prisoner, hadn't given up everything, just to arrive here to this.

  This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. This was just a sick nightmare born of her fears and awful memories of the attack on the convoy. Any minute now Tom would shout for her to wake up and get ready to break camp and move on to her new home.

  On to the real town of the waking world, a trading post that was safe and prosperous. A beacon of hope for people like her and her son who had lost everything and needed a chance for a new life. A place where the American dream wasn't dead and the United States might be reborn as more than a handful of scattered communities struggling to scrape out a meager existence in the most inhospitable places in the country.

  What where they going to do now? They'd crossed a brutal wasteland to get here, and there was no way they could make it back to Grand Junction with what little food was left. Meanwhile there was nowhere to go in Texas, and if they stayed near Newpost it was only a matter of time before they were rounded up like the residents here had been and subjected to the same fate.

  Kristy shuddered at the thought. Then it would be her turn to be dragged to the nearest bed by brutish soldiers who had forgotten their humanity. And with a spike of pure horror she wondered what Skyler's fate would be. The children had been spared when the bandits attacked the convoy, taken with the other prisoners, but that was no guarantee of his safety.

  No guarantee of her own either, for that matter; monsters like this might murder her on a whim. In fact, she wasn't sure the alternative would be much better if she were captured. She'd managed to escape the horror of rape during the shortages and the terrible years after the Ultimatum, largely thanks to Miles looking out for her and the peaceful community on the fringes of the Utah Valley fallout zone that had taken them in. But there were times when it had been close, when she was sure that terror was about to be visited upon her.

  Could she endure such a thing? And not just a few times, but likely over and over for the rest of her life? Or at least until she grew too old to be desirable, at which point she'd probably get a bullet after all.

  Skyler sat down next to her and took her hand, eyes wide with fear. “Mom?” he whispered.

  With a shuddering breath Kristy straightened her shoulders, turning to look at her son. Whatever the problems facing them she needed to be strong for him, so he wouldn't panic at their situation. “We should go tell Tom,” she said firmly, standing and brushing off the back of her jeans.

  He nodded and stood too, his earlier excitement replaced by a heart-wrenchingly defeated look. “What are we going to do?”

  She put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him close as they started down the hill. “We'll figure it out.”

  Skyler looked up at her. “I bet Tom will know what to do. He always knows what to do.”

  Kristy desperately hoped so. But in the meantime her frantic fear turned towards the fate of her friends. If Val was here then Bob, Vicky, and
Lisa surely had to be. And Simon. She should've kept looking until she found them, too.

  With new determination she stopped, retrieved the binoculars, and scooted back up to her vantage, panning over the occupied trading post. She had no luck where the washerwomen were hard at work, with no one still there resembling anyone she knew. But then she noticed a part of town that was crudely fenced off into multiple sections.

  The presence of so many guards confirmed that this had to be where the slaves were kept, in chain-link fenced enclosures that looked like nothing so much as dog kennels. As if even with all the buildings that had to be available in Newpost those poor people weren't shown enough humanity to be given proper shelter.

  There were easily over a hundred ragged, emaciated people in those enclosures, and Kirsty immediately began spotting people she recognized from the convoy. With a combination of hope and dread she began panning from one face to the next, searching for her friends. For Simon.

  A soft scuff of feet behind them made her whirl around, heart in her throat. But it was just Tom; he'd left the wagon behind at the base of the hill and made the climb with just his pack and rifle. In fact, given the fact that he'd come within a dozen feet without making a sound she had to assume the noise that had alerted her to his presence had been intentional, to keep her from having a heart attack from surprise when he suddenly appeared next to her.

  The mountain man noticed her expression and his own became grim. Not surprised, but saddened by her unspoken confirmation of what he'd likely been fearing for some time now. He silently made his way up to lay flat on the ground beside her, staring down at the occupied town in the distance. Then he cursed, quietly but bitterly.

  Kristy couldn't blame him; she wanted to do the same.

  The man held out his hand for his binoculars, but she shook her head stubbornly. “I have to find them,” she said. The vague statement was likely confusing, but rather than asking for clarification he just nodded sympathetically, even going so far as to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. And considering how he'd avoided her up til now like she carried some sort of plague, that just showed how shaken he was by the sight below.