King of the Wasteland: Follow-up to Knight of the Wasteland

by Jon Cronshaw

  King of the Wasteland

  Wasteland, Volume 3

  Jon Cronshaw

  Published by No World Press, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  KING OF THE WASTELAND

  First edition. October 28, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Jon Cronshaw.

  Written by Jon Cronshaw.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  1. The King

  2. The Chain

  3. The Cow

  4. Town

  5. The Tent

  6. The Envoy

  7. The Nest

  8. Rain

  9. Meat

  10. The Bullet

  11. Killer

  12. Exodus

  13. The Grid

  14. The Kiss

  15. The Ditch

  16. Remorse

  17. A Man

  18. Mister Fluffy

  19. The Cache

  20. Jacob

  21. The Fight

  22. The Wizard

  23. Love

  24. Raiders

  25. Remember

  26. The Deal

  27. The Campervan

  28. Burden

  29. Guards

  30. The Fence

  31. The Church

  32. Cider

  Want more?

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Find me online:

  About the Author

  For Nan.

  1. The King

  The rabbit kicks its legs with frenetic jerks, eyes flickering against the sunrise as the snare tightens around its ankle. Abel reaches down and grabs its throat, snapping its neck with a sudden flick of his wrist. “You did it, kid,” he says, grinning. “You caught your first rabbit.”

  The kid brushes his hair out of his eyes and takes the rabbit from Abel's hand. Staring for a long moment, he considers its grey fur and dead eyes, its open mouth revealing a pair of chipped front teeth coated with the pinkish tinge of blood. He glances up at Abel, swallows, and nods. The rabbit’s body lies slack and heavy in his hands. He places it back on the ground, its leg still tangled with the twine. “What should I do with the trap?”

  Abel unravels the length of nylon line from around the rabbit's foot and puts a hand in the dry grass for balance. “You reset it, kid.”

  The kid gives a confused look. “You mean do it again?”

  Abel gets up, swinging the rabbit’s limp body over his shoulder, its head resting against his chest. “Yep. Just do what you did last time.”

  The highway spreads out ahead of them as rusted cars extend in a line, their shells picked and empty, like dead crabs on a beach. An uprooted pine lies against the highway’s edge, its branches coated with a glistening, tar-like fungus. Vines corkscrew onto the asphalt, wrapping around the central barrier, their rotting purple flowers rocking with the breeze. Poplars and apple trees stand sentry along the roadside, branches bare, their shed leaves lying cracked and withered around exposed roots.

  “I was thinking we could use the fur for the winter,” the kid says, looking the rabbit up and down as he ties a knot in the snare, resetting the trap. “We could make a hat or something, keep our heads warm.”

  Abel nods. “Sounds like a good idea, kid. I think we'll be right. Just need to make sure we've got enough food to last.”

  The kid looks down at his trap, standing back to examine his work. “How's that look?”

  Abel reaches down, letting the snare tighten around a forefinger. He pulls it a few times, feeling the tension, and then smiles. “Looking good,” he says, patting the kid on the shoulder.

  “I was thinking we should clear some ground around home. We could plant stuff. We could get some potatoes growing, maybe some carrots.”

  “Sounds good, kid.” Abel looks around and frowns. Listening, he raises a hand, gesturing for silence.

  “What is it?” the kid whispers.

  Abel cups a hand to his ear and tilts his head at the high-pitched ticking sound heading their way. “Hide,” he snaps. The kid nods and they step off the highway’s edge, scrambling over the trap.

  Abel leads the way, shielding his eyes with a forearm as he ducks and weaves through the branches. Something crashes behind him and the kid cries out in pain. He looks around to find the kid curled up on his side, holding his stomach, groaning.

  Starting at the sound of a second, higher-pitched moan, Abel gapes at the spinning back wheel of a pink and white bike. A scrawny girl, no older than eleven, lies next to the bike. Blood spreads across her split lip as she stares up at Abel with sunken, fear-filled eyes. He freezes for a second, staring wide-eyed at the three rifles and countless bullets spread out across the ground.

  “Don't be afraid,” Abel says, holding out a hand to the girl. “I think we've met before.”

  The girl sits up, wipes her mouth, lets out a quivering breath, and nods. Layers of sweat and dirt cling to her pale flesh. Something crawls in her hair. “King coming,” she whispers, her eyes darting towards the road.

  The kid rolls over and regards the girl for several seconds. “I'm David,” he says, catching his breath. “This is Abel. He's good.”

  Abel raises an eyebrow at the kid. “David?”

  David doesn't respond.

  The girl rights her bike and frowns. A woman’s leather jacket hangs heavy across her bony shoulders, its waist reaching to her knees. She takes the front wheel between her knees, wiggling the handlebars, straightening them. “Last name I got was Sis. Becca call me that. Now she dead.” She leans the bike against a towering chestnut tree and gathers up her bullets, dropping them into the bike’s grubby pink basket. “King coming,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “Not safe.”

  Abel shakes his head and picks up the girl's rifles, handing them to her. “You ready for winter, Sis?”

  Sis sucks at a cut along the side of her right hand and shakes her head, lowering herself onto the saddle. “King coming.”

  Abel and David share a confused look.

  “Hide.” Sis drops to her belly, gesturing through the trees to the remains of a road leading south from the highway.

  A group of thirty or so men and women march behind a man riding a dusty brown horse. Scarlet drapes hang from the rider’s shoulders, a silver plastic crown balancing on his head. He moves forward with his head held high, one hand on the reins, the other gripping a shotgun.

  A man with black, slicked-back hair and a flak jacket guides a push-bike, freewheeling at the horse’s side. A spike, topped with a half-rotten severed head, extends from his left hand. A couple of men pull hand-carts, while another pushes a wheelbarrow, piled high with red and white striped material.

  Abel squints at the plume of black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe of a box truck, its engine rumbling and spluttering as it rolls forward. A few men hang from its sides, scanning the area with rifles.

  A deep frown wrinkles across Abel’s brow. “What the hell?”

  “What's that?” David asks.

  “It's a truck, kid. Be quiet.”

  David shakes his head and points to the smoke. “I can see that, but how's it moving on its own?”

  “They must have got it working.” He shakes his head, mouth gaping. “Who knows where they got fuel.” He turns to Sis. “You know these people?”

  “It's the King.”

  The rider mounts the highway, bringing his horse to a stop. He looks towards the city, the flood
waters catching the rising sun’s shimmering light. He stares ahead for several moments and exchanges a few words with the man on the bike. Picking up his reins, the rider signals westward, moving forward with his back to the city, his scarlet cape rippling with the wind.

  2. The Chain

  David gets up first when the truck disappears behind a dip in the road, its exhaust smoke still thick in the air. He grabs Sis by her wrist and pulls her to her feet.

  She glares at him. “Don’t...”

  “It’s okay,” David says, opening his palms. “We’re not like that.”

  Abel gets up, brushes dirt from his long leather coat, and picks up the rabbit. “You okay?”

  Sis nods, trembling. She holds her bike up with one hand, cradling the rifles as she arranges them in the basket. Nodding to herself, she sits on the saddle and pushes down on a pedal. The chain unravels beneath her, falling to the ground like a shed snake skin. “My...”

  Abel looks at Sis and shakes his head. “I got some tools back home. We might be able to fix that.”

  Sis stares down, biting her lip. “It broken.”

  “You hungry?” Abel asks.

  Sis looks up, nodding. “Always hungry.”

  “Kid caught this.” Abel pats the rabbit and gestures for her to follow. “Bring your bike.”

  David takes the chain from the ground and drops it into Sis's basket. “Here,” he says, offering her a smile.

  Sis flinches, staring at David with her sunken eyes.

  “We're not going to hurt you.”

  Abel leads the way onto the highway as Sis pushes the bike behind him.

  David catches up to Abel, matching his pace. “Did you say you met her before?”

  “She was holed out in some abandoned town,” Abel whispers. “It was back when I was running with that wizard guy. She shot some people from the Family who were after me.”

  David looks back over his shoulder at Sis. “She's a killer?”

  Abel sighs. “She's a survivor, kid. I think she did what she had to.”

  “She's got guns.”

  “Yep.” Abel stops and turns to Sis, waiting a few moments for her to catch up. “We're not too far. My friend here is a little worried about those rifles.”

  Sis brings her bike to a stop and meets David's gaze. “I won't shoot you,” she says in a cold, flat voice. “You wouldn't know if I shoot you.”

  David shrugs and shares a glance with Abel.

  “Nearly there,” Abel says, spotting his tattered red marker hanging from a dead pine. They turn right off the road, pushing their way through brush and trees until they reach the garage.

  Abel looks around and then raises the steel shutters. He offers a reassuring smile when Sis starts at the clattering metal. The smells of home drift from inside — ash, wood smoke, cooking, blankets, and old books. “It's safe here. We're well-hidden.”

  Sis looks around, swallowing. “Okay.”

  “Just stand your bike next to the trolley,” Abel says, pointing along the right wall. “Just be careful. Watch your back on the boat.”

  Sis wheels the bike into the gloom and rests it against the trolley, the right handlebar tilting as it stands against the steel bars. She stands and looks down at her feet, shuffling.

  “You can sit down if you want,” Abel says, gesturing to the back seat of a car resting against the far wall. “Just watch out for the spring on the left.”

  David chuckles. “You got poked with that good.”

  Abel grins and shakes his head. “Right, kid.”

  She looks up at the hole in the roof in the far right corner, light spilling in and illuminating the white ashes of the previous night’s fire. With cautious steps, she heads towards the seat, tilting her head as she examines the rowing boat standing on a two-wheeled steel trailer. “What's that?”

  Abel follows her gaze and nods. “It's the boat. You use it to go on water.”

  “Like a river?”

  “Like a river,” Abel agrees. “I use it to go into the city.” He hands the rabbit to David. “You want to try making a pot? You remember what I showed you?”

  David rubs his chin, the side of his mouth twitching. “Do I need to skin it?”

  Abel folds his arms and offers him a grin. “You tell me.”

  David looks into the rabbit's dead eyes then nods to himself. “We don't want fur in the pot. We'll keep that aside.”

  Abel nods and pats David’s shoulder. “Good, kid.” He squeezes past the boat, elbows brushing along the left wall, and drags a toolbox from beneath a pile of junk in the corner. He walks past Sis and drops the toolbox next to the trolley. “Let’s see if we can fix this.”

  Sis walks over and crouches next to her bike as Abel lifts the coil of snapped chain from her basket, puts the rifles and bullets to one side, and flips the bike upside-down, letting it rest on its saddle and handlebars.

  “Any idea?”

  Sis sighs. “Never broke before.”

  Staring at the chain for a long moment, he looks at the large gear next to the pedals. He stretches the chain taut, letting it line up with the teeth and fall into place. “I think we can do this,” he says, wrapping the chain around the smaller gear on the back wheel. “Hold this.” He passes the two ends of chain to Sis and squints at the broken links. “I’m not sure,” he says, getting up.

  Sis moves her fingers around the chain, manipulating the joins until something clicks. She turns the pedal and the back wheel spins. “It’s done,” she says. “It’s fixed.”

  Abel smiles. “Good work, Sis. That’s great.” He rummages through his toolbox, retrieving a bottle of oil. “You should put a bit of this on the chain, stop it from rusting.”

  “Will you?” she asks, looking unsure.

  Turning the pedal slowly, Abel lets a small amount of oil drip from the bottle, watching as it coats the chain in glistening black. He lets the wheel slow to a gradual stop, gets to his feet, and drops the bottle back into his toolbox.

  Sis flips the bike and leans it against the trolley. Reaching down, she puts the bullets and rifles back into the basket, turns to Abel and smiles. “Thanks.”

  “It’s nothing,” Abel says, waving a hand.

  “I’m going to go now.”

  “Back to that town?”

  Sis nods. “King pass now.”

  “That guy on the horse?”

  Sis takes the handlebars and turns the bike around to face the shutters.

  “We’re having some rabbit stew. You look like you could do with a good meal. Eat with us.”

  There’s a long silence. Sis glances over at David as he peels the skin from the rabbit with a hunting knife. “You give me food?”

  “Yep. If you help gather wood for the fire, you’re more than welcome to share.”

  Sis swallows and nods, the faint trace of a smile flickering at the side of her mouth. “Okay.”

  THE FLAMES CRACKLE in the corner while Abel, Sis and David sit elbow-to-elbow on the car seat. Abel puts his empty bowl on the floor next to his feet and sits back, patting his stomach. “That was good, kid. You’re really getting the hang of this.”

  Sis slurps the last mouthful of stew, belches, and wipes her mouth with a bony wrist. “I like warm food,” she says, grinning. “Not had warm for long time.”

  David nods and gets to his feet, picking up Abel’s bowl and taking Sis’s. “There’s usually more. It wasn’t the biggest rabbit. The potatoes and carrots were good though.”

  Abel leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and turns to Sis. “What do you know about that king guy?”

  Sis shudders. “He burn places, kill people. He take everything.”

  “You saw him?”

  Sis nods. “A place past my town. I go and get food. The king was there. He was killing people with rope, making them dance. He was laughing.”

  Abel shakes his head. “Damn raiders,” he mutters.

  “He say he rule these lands. He say to pledge al...al...”

&n
bsp; “Allegiance?” Abel ventures.

  “Yeah. He say the kingdom his. He say he ruler. He scare me.”

  Abel rises to his feet and looks outside. “You can stick with us if you’re scared. We look out for each other. You know much about hunting?”

  She gives him a blank look.

  “How have you been eating?”

  Sis stares down at her hands. “I find things, old things. I take them to settlement and they give me food.”

  “You trade?”

  Sis shrugs. “The king kill people I got food from.” She bites her bottom lip.

  Abel nods. “I’ve been teaching the kid how to live. I can do the same for you.” He turns to David. “We should go check on those other traps and show Sis what you’ve been learning.”

  ABEL CROUCHES OVER the body of a dead fox, one of its legs chewed to the bone around the trap's thread. “Foxes aren't great for meat — too bitter.”

  Sis pushes the back of her hand against the fox's tail. “It's rough.”

  “We can use the fur,” David says, unwrapping the twine from the fox's leg.

  Abel gets to his feet, considering the fox for several moments. “We should take this to Big Ned. He'll know what to do with it.”

  David lets out a loud sigh.

  “What?” asks Abel.

  “I hate that place. It's too weird.”

  “Weird or not, they're good people.”

  David turns to Sis. “Have you ever been to Town?”

  She stares at him blankly and turns to Abel.

  “It's a settlement west of here. They like to keep to themselves.”

  “They’re weird,” David spits.

  Abel’s lips grow tight. “And they’re our friends.”

  “I still say they’re weird.”

  “We’ll head there at first light.” Abel turns to Sis. “You’re welcome to stay with us tonight. We’ve got some spare blankets, and once the fire’s going it gets pretty warm.”

  “I...I...” Sis stares down at her handlebars, shaking her head.

  “You said yourself those raiders hit that place you got food,” David says. “Stay with us.”