Badlands: A Post-Apocalyptic Journey

by Nathan Jones

He hated to interrupt them, but there was an itch between his shoulder blades at the thought that someone in Newpost might've heard the shots and would even now be on their way here. So he continued firmly, ignoring the slew of questions. “Who here knows how to shoot? I've got three dead soldiers with three AK-47s and two 9mm pistols for the taking, and I need people riding shotgun in both vehicles in case we run into trouble.”

  Brandon was quick to volunteer, and after a bit of debate the survivors from the convoy pointed to a young man named Teddy as having a reputation for being an excellent shot. Simon volunteered as well, but considering the man had just attacked him with his bare hands Tom was leery about handing him a weapon. Instead he passed the third AK-47 and two 9mms around to other men who came forward.

  Then he reluctantly went and broke up the impromptu reunion between wives, mothers, and daughters, and the loved ones joyful at having them back. “I don't care how you decide seating arrangements in the trucks!” he called. “I just need you all to get back in before this place is swarming with soldiers from Newpost and we all get captured again!”

  That was enough to chivvy people back into the backs of the vehicles, although Bob Hendrickson, trailed by his wife and daughter, came over to Tom wearing an expression of deep concern. “Do you know what happened to Kristy Graham and her son Skyler?” he asked. “We haven't seen them since they ran off just before the attack.”

  Tom smiled, glad to be able to offer some good news. “They're both with me, and just fine. That quick stop I mentioned is to pick them up before we get out of here.”

  Vicky gave a soft sob of relief and sagged against her daughter, who was holding onto her as if she'd never let her go. Meanwhile Bob enfolded Tom in a weak but enthusiastic hug. “God bless you, Tom Miller,” he said fervently.

  He nodded and awkwardly extricated himself. “Hop in a truck, we need to get going.”

  Tom spent a minute or so checking over the vehicles to see what they had. Along with food and water for the prisoners, easily enough to get them to Grand Junction, there was also a heartening number of spare gas cans. The trucks themselves had spare tanks as well, and although he didn't know what sort of miles per gallon these monsters got he felt fairly confident they'd reach where they were going.

  After making sure everyone was inside and things were safely closed up he made his way to the cab of the lead vehicle, where Brandon waited for him with a rifle held ready. The freed prisoner was staring at the dead bodies on the side of the road with more than a little satisfaction. “Nice shooting,” he said.

  Tom just shrugged in response; not much of a feat when he'd caught them by surprise at practically point blank range. He hopped behind the wheel of the big vehicle and, after a bit of fumbling to remember how a stick shift worked, managed to get it into gear and moving.

  After checking to make sure the second vehicle was following, a disgruntled Simon at the wheel, he took them along roads he knew that should keep them out of sight as well as hearing range of Newpost as they circled around to Kristy and Skyler's camp.

  Come to think of it, considering how determinedly Simon had chased Kristy back before the attack, the man hadn't even asked about her. Of course the guy had been too busy trying to beat the tar out of him, but still . . .

  Tom was well aware that two trucks driving straight for the camp was sure to send the young mother and son running for their lives, probably the moment the heard the engine noises. Sure enough he didn't see either of them next to their abandoned wagon, which looked as if it had been pulled fifty or so feet before they'd decided they had to leave it behind.

  He hoped he hadn't scared them too badly. For that matter, he hoped they hadn't run too far. He climbed out and hopped up onto the truck's dark green hood. “Kristy!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, uncomfortable at making that kind of noise with Newpost only miles away, but in too much of a hurry to search for the pair. “Kristy, it's me, Tom! It's okay, everything's okay!”

  A moment later he saw a pair of heads pop out of a dip in the ground a hundred yards past the wagon, staring at him openmouthed. Then Skyler gave a gleeful shout and started towards him at a run. To Tom's amusement when he hopped down and started forward to meet the boy Skyler ran right past, all his interest in the truck.

  Well, considering how traumatized the poor kid had been by having to shoot those soldiers Tom was glad to offer him some distraction.

  Kristy followed her son at a more reserved pace, equal parts cautious and incredulous as she approached. “What's going on?” she demanded.

  In spite of yesterday's unpleasantness and the guilt of failing the young woman and her son last night, Tom still couldn't help but grin as he shouted back. “The enemy soldiers loaded up everyone from our convoy into these trucks and started driving them south. I was able to ambush them and free everyone.”

  She skidded to a halt ten feet away, staring at him in open disbelief. “You what?”

  His smile widened as he answered solemnly. “I was able to free everyone. Including your friends the Hendricksons and Simon. They're in the trucks.”

  To Tom's shock Kristy flew across the remaining distance and threw her arms around him. “You saved them?” she whispered tremulously, as if afraid she'd just imagined the news. Tears shone in her eyes as she beamed up at him with a look to melt any man's heart.

  Tom stood stiffly, not returning the hug. Yesterday he would've enjoyed it, probably even considered it more than he could've ever dreamed of coming from a beautiful woman he'd admired. But after her broken promise it was hard not to feel like heartfelt as this seemed, he wasn't sure he could trust it.

  Kristy noticed how tense he was and looked up at him, smile fading. A guilty look briefly flashed across her face, and she opened her mouth to offer what he guessed was an apology.

  But before she could speak a happy shout sounded from behind them, and Simon pulled her away from him to wrap her in a fierce embrace of his own, giving Tom a baleful look over her shoulder as he did.

  After a moment the redheaded man pulled away just long enough to give the young woman a long, lingering kiss. “I'm glad you escaped capture,” he said in a quiet, fervent voice. “I'm glad you were spared what happened to the others. I thought of you constantly.”

  Except just barely when you didn't even ask about her, Tom thought. He irrationally hoped Kristy would pull away, give some sign of shunning the man, but other than shooting Tom a reluctant look over her shoulder as Simon led her towards where Skyler waited by the trucks she didn't do anything.

  Literally turning her back on him. Well, that seemed about right for the gratitude he could expect from her, insincere and quickly forgotten.

  Tom knew that wasn't exactly fair, but it was hard not to feel a bit bitter at the sight of whatever he might've had with Kristy vanishing in a puff of smoke. Well, it had been stupid of him to think he had a hope with her anyway.

  “Where are Vicky and Lisa and Bob?” the young woman asked Simon insistently. “Are they really okay? I want to see them!”

  “Come on, I'll take you to them,” the redheaded man said soothingly, shooting Tom a smug look over his shoulder as he guided Kristy towards the second truck.

  Tom watched them go for a few seconds, then stomped over to the forgotten wagon and hauled it over to the truck, unloading everything into the vehicle's cargo space. Two of those AK-47s were his, anyway, and now that Kristy had the other two and the pistol she'd taken from those soldiers who'd attacked her he figured she no longer needed his.

  With a bit of work he found a spot to stow the wagon, too. Then he headed for the front of the truck, where Brandon was leaning against the front bumper watching him impatiently. “We should get going,” the young man pointed out. “The quicker we put some distance between us and Newpost, the better.”

  “I couldn't agree with you more,” Tom muttered, yanking open the driver's side door. He hopped back behind the wheel and leaned out the window, shouting for everyone to get in so th
ey could leave.

  He was ready to go home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Road Ahead

  With around 30 people crammed into the back of the truck there was barely room for everyone to sit, about two-thirds on the benches and the rest packed into the foot space, some even lying across people's laps. Needless to say almost all the children were being held by parents.

  Everyone was cramped, limbs had gone beyond asleep to numb, people constantly shifted and jostled each other for a more comfortable position, and some were desperate enough to try to stand or crouch to get circulation in their hands and feet, swaying alarmingly as the vehicle bounced over bad roads and occasionally falling on the people around them.

  The interior of the truck was dim, stank, and was hot as an oven, the air stifling in spite of decent ventilation because of so many people packed into such a small space. Kristy felt lightheaded and dizzy and sick to her stomach at times; she was just glad nobody else had thrown up so far, or she probably would've joined them. She shuddered to think what it would be like to throw up in such a crowded space, likely triggering who knew how many more people to also empty their stomachs.

  So all things considered conditions were terrible, almost unbearable.

  And the rescued prisoners from the convoy couldn't be happier about it; they were free, driving away from captivity, and well on their way to making a trip that had taken months in less than a day.

  Vicky was asleep with her head on Kristy's shoulder, Lisa sort of sprawled across the two of them. Across from them Bob sat with Skyler sitting on his lap. Kristy wanted to hold her son, especially since he was still pale and reserved after being forced to shoot those soldiers yesterday; he needed comforting and she ached to offer it to him.

  But Vicky had clung to her as a lifeline almost from the moment they were reunited, obviously deeply scarred by what she'd been through. And understandably Lisa refused to be separated from her mom again. So Kristy contented herself with sitting across from her son, where she knew he was safe.

  Tom had allowed rest stops as often as he dared, giving everyone a chance to get out, stretch, relieve themselves, and eat and drink with ravenous enthusiasm from the supplies that had been in the trucks. But that was usually just once every few hours, fifteen minutes at a time before he insisted they get back on the road, chivvying everyone back into the cramped vehicles for more interminable driving.

  From everything they'd learned about the enemy the threat of patrols would probably persist even once they reached Colorado, at least until the made it to the mountains, and nobody wanted to risk dallying and being caught again. In fact, even with the discomfort everyone was suffering the mountain man usually didn't have to do much chivvying.

  Kristy couldn't be sure exactly what risks they'd been through on the drive, trapped in the windowless back of the truck and focused on comforting Vicky and Lisa. But during the infrequent rest stops she'd heard rumors that they were driving some of the most irrationally circuitous and difficult routes possible to avoid running into enemy patrols, and even then the glint of sun on glass and metal had been spotted on the horizon on more than one occasion.

  Thankfully if those patrols had seen them, they hadn't thought two trucks driving northwest without escort was suspicious enough to warrant pursuit.

  Vicky murmured in sleepy distress and shifted, and Kristy soothingly rubbed her back. “I'm here,” she said quietly. “Your husband and daughter are here too. We're all here, and you're safe. In a few hours we'll be in Grand Junction.”

  Okay, probably closer to six or seven. But in a few hours they'd be in the mountains, and that was almost as good.

  Her friend settled back to sleep with a soft sigh, and Kristy did her best to hold back tears at her state. Across from them Bob gave her an anguished look; the poor man had stayed as close to his wife's side as Vicky was staying to Kristy, but with the sort of timid hesitance with which you'd treat a wounded bird. He obviously didn't know how to comfort the woman he loved after what she'd suffered, and so far Vicky hadn't made any overtures that Kristy could see.

  While they were all sharing what had happened over the last few weeks, Kristy had indirectly learned that Bob was so injured because when the soldiers came to take Vicky he'd fought to protect her until they'd beaten him unconscious. Even afterwards he hadn't given up on trying to find a way to get to her, earning more beatings in the process.

  And just as sad to see was Lisa. The poor girl had spoken barely a word this entire time, and shied away from anyone but her mother and Kristy. Skyler had tried to give Lisa a hug when they were first reunited, overjoyed to see his friend again, but when he came close she began keening like he'd stomped on her toe.

  The poor boy had backed away in hurt confusion, too young to understand why his friend was acting like she was. Kristy had tried to explain it to him, and he'd been good about it, but he was obviously deeply concerned about the people he cared about. He'd even cried for a few minutes.

  Kristy could only hope the family could get past the horror of their experiences in Newpost and find some way to rebuild their lives. Such good people didn't deserve to have this sort of thing happen to them at the whim of evil men with no conscience.

  As the interminable minutes passed Kristy did her best not to shift uncomfortably. Not only was her arm numb and her legs had fallen asleep but she really needed to make water, in spite of the fact that she'd done her best to avoid drinking too much, and made sure Skyler did the same.

  Just when her bladder felt like it would explode she felt the truck blessedly begin to slow. Relieved groans filled the stifling space as the crunch of tires signified them pulling off to the side of the road. Almost as soon as the vehicle stopped the back door burst open and people streamed out to answer nature's call.

  Kristy gently shook Vicky's shoulder. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered. “Do you want to come?”

  Her friend mumbled and shifted but didn't answer. Kristy looked across at Bob, who gave her a tight smile. “I'll watch over her while you're gone,” he assured her. Kristy nodded and gave his shoulder a comforting pat as she disentangled herself from the mother and daughter.

  Then she bolted for the bright rectangle of light and an escape, no matter how brief, from the miserable truck, joining the stream of women making a break for the nearest source of privacy.

  A couple minutes later Kristy returned to the trucks feeling almost human again, and once there immediately sought out Tom. She'd been trying to find an opportunity to talk with him all day, but on their brief stops he always seemed busy refueling or checking the vehicles, or helping people who had obvious problems, or distributing supplies to make sure they lasted the trip to Grand Junction and nobody was left out.

  The mountain man didn't have the easy way with people that the convoy's previous leader had, but even so he'd dutifully settled into the role and faithfully did his best for the freed settlers who now depended on him. Just like Kristy would've expected from him. And in spite of his bluntness and lack of diplomacy people seemed to trust him, seeking him out so he was always the center of a small crowd.

  And if that didn't make it hard enough to get a second alone with him so she could finally apologize, not to mention properly thank him for everything he'd done for her and her loved ones, there was the proverbial third wheel . . .

  Almost as if on cue she heard a call, and with a sigh turned to see Simon trotting towards her. The man had insisted on driving the second truck, and to be honest Kristy had found herself relieved by the choice so she wouldn't have to constantly deal with him while she was trying to help Vicky.

  First off the fact that he'd gone right to macking on her practically the moment they were reunited, as if their relationship was much more serious than it had been, had struck her as more than a little inappropriate. Especially since he'd practically ripped her away from Tom and went overboard making it clear she was still his.

  Her former, almost-boyfriend
had ruined her chance to properly apologize to the mountain man, and since then had done his best to corner her at every stop.

  He'd even kept up his increasingly obnoxious habit of being overly familiar, constantly pulling her into hugs and trying to spend what little time she had during rest stops cuddling. Kristy hated to think she was shallow, but between the man's inappropriate, borderline aggressive behavior, his filthy, emaciated condition, and it had to be said the ripe stench she could smell when she got within six feet of him, she found herself more than a bit repulsed by his touch.

  Simon had completely ignored her obvious discomfort, and even when she openly resisted his affections had been insistent. Kristy felt a bit bad being too harsh in her refusals, since the poor man was weak as a kitten and obviously seeking comfort from her over what he'd suffered as a slave.

  It felt almost cruel to spurn him.

  At least it had, until she learned how he'd outright attacked Tom after the man had rescued everyone in the convoy, blaming the mountain man for everything that had happened to the prisoners since the attack. Simon had even accused him of being complicit in the attack itself. And if that weren't bad enough the redheaded man also spent the few minutes he and Kristy had together during rest stops bitterly badmouthing the mountain man.

  She wasn't sure if he was just jealous that Tom had taken his place as leader, or that when he'd first seen her she'd been hugging him, or what, but it grated on her to hear the redheaded man insult someone she'd come to deeply respect, whatever their recent personal conflict.

  “How you holding up, hon?” Simon asked, pulling her close and kissing her on the forehead.

  Well, at least he hadn't gone for the lips this time. Kristy did her best to smile as she pulled back. “As well as anyone else, I guess.” She stiffened, catching sight of Tom over his shoulder. The mountain man was returning from where the men had gone to relieve themselves, and by some miracle for once he was alone.

  Not only did she still desperately want to talk to him, but he also made a good excuse for her to extricate herself from Simon's clinging attention. She did her best to politely free herself from the redheaded man. “Excuse me, I need to talk to Tom.”