Badlands Trilogy (Novella): Redemption In the Badlands

by Jarrett, Brian J.

Dan carried the buckets inside, one in each hand now. Lilly covered herself as best she could. Dan glanced at her and quickly looked away, reminding himself to keep his eyes to himself.

  “It’s okay,” Lilly said. “The world doesn’t afford us much in the way of modesty these days.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Water’s hot,” Dan said, carrying a bucket to the pool. “Watch your feet.”

  Lilly drew her knees up to her chest as Dan dumped the bucket.

  She closed her eyes and smiled. “That’s glorious.”

  “Warm baths and hot meals might be the two most underrated things we took for granted back in the old days,” Dan said. He glanced at the water level. “I think that’ll be enough water for you. Might as well boil us up some new drinking water while I got the fire burning.”

  He headed toward the door.

  “How do you do it?” Lilly said.

  Dan paused. “Do what?”

  “How do you keep your faith? I mean, after what God has done to the world, how can you not blame Him?”

  “Maybe He didn’t do it.”

  “If you believe what you read, then He’s omnipotent. He had to have done it.”

  “Not if the deists are right,” Dan replied.

  “Are they?”

  “Nobody knows.”

  “Were you ever married?” Lilly asked. “Before the virus?”

  Dan shook his head. “Nah. Lifelong bachelor. I had some girlfriends for a while, one I even thought I could marry. Just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

  “So you weren’t celibate?”

  “Not by choice.”

  “I’m not a mooch, you know? I’ve been providing for myself ever since this shit storm swept the planet.”

  “You’re not imposing,” Dan said.

  “I’ll be on my way soon enough.”

  Dan nodded, although he knew that wasn’t true. God had different plans for Lilly; she just didn’t know it. “Take whatever time you need.”

  Lilly nodded.

  “I’d better tend to that fire,” Dan said.

  With the empty buckets in hand, he left Lilly behind to finish her bath.

  What Dan didn’t know then—and wouldn’t realize until much later—was that God had different plans in store for him as well.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dan stepped outside.

  He made it two steps, and then his blood froze. A strange van sat on the school’s lot, fifty feet away.

  He turned to run back into the school but stopped short. A menacing house of a man stood between Dan and the door, arms crossed, blocking the way.

  Heart racing, Dan looked around. Three other men made their way toward him now, surrounding him on all sides. An Indian, along with a grizzled, bearded man. A stocky, Italian-looking man approached from the opposite side.

  Lilly, he thought. If they find her…

  They rushed him.

  Gripping the bucket tightly, Dan raced toward the big man. He swung the heavy steel bucket at the giant’s head, but the man caught his wrist, arresting Dan’s attack like an adult reigning in an unruly child. The big man twisted hard and Dan felt something pop in his shoulder.

  He went to his knees.

  Then the others were on him, tackling him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back as they smashed his face into the weedy ground.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Dan sat in a dimly lit supply closet, helpless and alone.

  The men who attacked him did a number on him, kicking and punching him in the head before the big one took to working his ribs and gut. All Dan could do was curl up into the fetal position and wait it out.

  Eventually, they got tired of kicking the shit out of him and carried him inside. Bruised and bleeding, they tossed him in one of the supply closets.

  He didn’t pass out exactly, but time slipped. His wits returned after some time, but he couldn’t know how long. He got to his knees, his head spinning for a few seconds until the world around him righted itself. The closet was dark, but enough light filtered in through the crack beneath the door to allow him to get a sense of his surroundings.

  He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. In a desperate attempt to force the door open, he slammed all of his weight into it. Pain tore through his battered head and his bruised ribs, nearly putting him back on the floor again. The government of the old world had been utterly utilitarian; the thick oak door and solid metal lock attested to that.

  He gave up and collapsed to the floor, breathing hard. His ribs and shoulder screamed at him. He couldn’t hear anything outside of the room. Whatever might have happened, he couldn’t tell.

  The minutes passed slowly. He kept telling himself this couldn’t be happening, that this couldn’t be real.

  The locked door argued otherwise.

  Dan stood and took to the door again. It resisted all of his attempts to force it open, leaving him in worse shape for his efforts.

  He collapsed to the floor again.

  This time he cried.

  The minutes passed and Dan wiped his eyes. Still no sign of what was happening outside. Of what those men might be doing to Lilly.

  He waited for then to return, formulating a plan of what he would do when they did. But after an hour he began to suspect they weren’t coming back.

  What he found after searching his small prison confirmed it.

  The men had left him two coolers, full of water. A person could live three or four days without water, but a man could survive for weeks without food, slowing wasting away as his body ate itself to stay alive. That’s exactly what they expected him to do; to survive long enough to die a slower and more painful death.

  These sadistic bastards had no intention of ever coming back.

  And Dan knew as God was his witness, that if these men would do that to him, then they’d do even worse things to Lilly.

  Thirst plagued him; he didn’t know the last time he’d had a drink of water. As much as he didn’t want the water they’d left behind for him, he had little choice but to drink it.

  He opened the lid, and the smell hit him.

  Not only had these animals left him to die slowly, one of then had shit in the cooler.

  These men, they weren’t animals.

  They were monsters.

  Dan put the lid back on the cooler and sat. Despair filled him as hot tears threatened again. He wiped them away hard. He thought of those Bible stories he’d read while growing up; the ones where it appeared God had forsaken someone; left him without any means or hope.

  In those stories, God always came through in the end.

  Would He come through now?

  Dan closed his eyes and prayed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Outside Dan’s prison, the midday sun shone in through the windows, flooding the school with bright light. After two hours inside the closet, Dan’s eyes had become well-adjusted to the meager light seeping in beneath the door. He couldn’t see well, but he could at least see shapes and a little detail. That was better than nothing.

  He began searching. He found a bucket and an old, used mop. He found extra mop heads nearby. Not much he could do to the door with those. Shelving built into the wall held a few plastic bottles of glass cleaner, a half-dozen urinal cakes, and a toilet brush. A plunger sat on the floor beneath the supplies. He found a couple of rolls of toilet paper, but the shelves had been nearly laid bare by the previous tenants.

  He felt around in the darkness, searching for anything that might prove useful. A screwdriver would be great. A hammer would be better. Even a brick or any heavy, solid object could be used to break the locked doorknob and free himself.

  But a thorough search of the shelves and the surrounding area proved fruitless.

  Dan shot a glance toward the ceiling.

  “If I ever needed your help,” he said in the small, quiet space, “it’s right now.”

  He continued his search in th
e dark closet, exploring its every nook and cranny. Just when he thought he’d touched every square inch of the closet’s interior, his fingers brushed against something hard and cold.

  Dan felt along the object.

  He almost wept.

  An iron crowbar hung from a hook on the wall, tucked away behind some heavy cotton aprons.

  He didn’t have to ask how a tool like that got inside of a closet full of bathroom supplies.

  He already knew why.

  Sometimes God spoke in whispers.

  You just had to be listening to hear it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It took fifteen minutes to pry the door open. Dan had no doubt the job would have gone faster had he not been favoring his bruised ribs, but eventually, the lock gave way, abandoning its efforts to keep him inside.

  He shoved the door open and stepped out into the hallway. The mid-day sunlight nearly blinded him. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust as he headed down the hall with the crowbar in hand, back to the area he called home.

  As he expected, the intruders were gone.

  As was Lilly.

  Along with most of Dan’s food and supplies, the men had taken Dan’s rifles and pistols. That left him with little else besides a hunting knife and the crowbar in his hand.

  They would have to do.

  Dan found the keys to his truck, right where he left them.

  He exited the school, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He slipped into the driver’s seat, tossing the knife and crowbar into the passenger side as he pulled his door closed.

  He shoved the keys in the ignition. This time he didn’t say a prayer.

  He already knew the engine would start.

  He was on a mission from God, after all.

  Dan cranked the engine, and the truck started up with a mighty roar.

  He put the transmission into drive and shoved the pedal to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The road running alongside the school allowed for only two ways the gang might have gone. Dan pulled the truck up to the road and slammed on the brakes, coming to a hard stop. Dust billowed up and around the truck, dissipating into the air.

  Left or right. The wrong choice and Lilly would die.

  Dan closed his eyes and let himself drift, waiting for God to speak to him.

  Even if it was only a whisper.

  A few moments passed, and then the answer popped into his head.

  Turn left.

  He didn’t question it.

  Dan shoved the gas pedal to the floor, cranking the big steering wheel to the left. The truck fishtailed before settling into a straight trajectory. He picked up speed, swerving in and out of abandoned cars left derelict on the highway, their owners long since dead and gone.

  His head buzzed. His heart thudded in his chest like a jackhammer. A cold chill swept over his body, in spite of the warm air. His vision cleared, his hearing sharpened. Swallowing hard, he tasted copper. His chest rose and fell, settling into a steady rhythm as he focused on making up lost time.

  They’d only been gone a couple of hours; he could still catch them if he hurried.

  He pushed away the thoughts of what might be happening to Lilly as he sped down the two-lane road in search of the van he’d seen in front of his house.

  Ten minutes turned into twenty. A half-hour became an hour. As he drove, he began to wonder if he’d chosen the wrong direction. Had he misheard the message? Surely God wouldn’t have sent him in the wrong direction? Lilly was his charge, his new purpose now that the carriers had morphed into something no longer human.

  No way God would send him the wrong direction. He always came through in the end.

  Ten minutes later, Dan got his confirmation.

  The kidnappers’ van appeared, parked in a lot along the side of the road.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dan stopped off a couple of hundred yards away, hoping the men didn’t notice him. He pulled into a cracked and weed-infested parking lot, behind the burned out hulk of a small drug store. He killed the engine, watching the van through the truck’s dirty windshield. They’d parked in front of a building that had served as a small business office before the virus. A white sign advertising Reed & Associates, CPAs adorned the front of the building; the red lettering faded now after many seasons of neglect.

  Those men were inside that building, doing God knew what to Lilly.

  Taking a deep breath, Dan grabbed the hunting knife and the crowbar before slipping out of the driver’s seat. He closed the door gently to avoid making any loud sounds that would give him away. They had his guns now (if they didn’t already have their own to start with). He had no doubt they’d use them.

  With the knife tucked into his back pocket and the heavy crowbar clutched in his hand, Dan took off for the van.

  * * *

  He crossed the distance in only a few minutes, running at a moderate jog to keep from winding himself. He needed his strength. His ribs ached as he ran, but he stayed out of sight, making his way down an alleyway that ran behind the former CPA office. He tried to formulate a plan, but there seemed little he could actually plan for.

  He knew there were four of them, including the giant that nearly popped his shoulder out of its socket.

  He knew they were armed.

  And he knew they were killers.

  He had a knack for that kind of thing, after all.

  Dan reached the building, leaning against it to stay out of sight and to allow himself to catch his breath. By now, another ten minutes had passed. Every minute felt like an eternity.

  Keeping close to the building, Dan stepped carefully down the narrow space between the CPA office and the adjacent building. Cracked white paint peeled from the building’s exterior. Dan’s heart continued to beat a steady pace, like a metronome keeping time inside of his chest.

  He crept slowly toward the front of the building until he arrived at its corner. He backed against the wall and peered around.

  The thugs’ van sat in the parking lot, its engine making ticking sounds as it cooled. They hadn’t been there long.

  He saw no sign of the men, though. With any luck, they were all inside. With the grace of God, the van would be unlocked and filled with Dan’s pistols.

  He took a deep breath, casting a furtive glance both directions before emerging from the alleyway and heading toward the back of the van. A dozen steps put Dan behind the van. Once there he placed his back against it and paused, regulating his breathing. There were no windows on the back panels of the van, so he’d have to peek around and look through the side windows to see who might be inside.

  Exhaling and clearing his head, he inched out and around the side of the van, toward the arched bubble window set near the rear. He peeked inside the dirty portal.

  At first, he didn’t see anything.

  Then he noticed movement.

  Dan’s heart jumped in his chest as he pulled his head back quickly, away from the window and out of sight. At least one of them remained in the van, maybe more.

  He peered inside again, hoping like hell no one would see him. He again caught sight of the person inside; a slightly-built, dark man. The Indian, by the looks of it.

  Dan pulled back out of sight again, considering his next move. He needed to get inside that van, and the only way to do it would be to lure the guy out.

  Taking another calming breath, Dan tapped three times on the side of the van with the business end of the crowbar and waited.

  Chapter Forty

  Dan heard rustling come from inside the van. It rocked slightly on worn shocks as the man inside got to his feet, crouching to avoid the low ceiling.

  Dan’s heart hammered in his chest as adrenaline flooded his system. He gripped the crowbar tightly, his palms sweaty. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry.

  The van’s sliding side door opened with a hearty jerk and the gang member inside stepped out and onto the pavement.

  Dan tight
ened his grip on the crowbar.

  And then he hesitated.

  The man turned and caught sight of Dan. “What the fuck—”

  Dan raised the crowbar.

  The man attempted to throw his hands up in a defensive posture, but he wasn’t fast enough. Instead, he did little more than utter a shrill cry before Dan brought the crowbar down. Hard. The iron bar caught the man between the eyes, shattering his skull and silencing the cry for help.

  He dropped like a bag of wet cement; striking the pavement with a meaty thud. Blood poured from the man’s fractured skull, pooling onto the asphalt below. His eyes fluttered, and he began to moan; a droning, guttural sound that turned Dan’s stomach.

  Dan raised the crowbar again, delivering another solid blow between the man’s eyes, silencing him for good.

  * * *

  Dan stood above the dead man, frozen in place while he stared at the body. How long he stood there, Dan didn’t know. He’d never killed anyone before, not even one of the infected. It was a hell of a lot to take in all at once.

  The crowbar seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. His heart galloped like a prized racehorse in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his chest rose and fell with panting breaths.

  A sensation of surreality swept over him, but Dan fought it. Detaching from the visceral wouldn’t serve him now; if he had any intention of saving Lilly’s life, he had to embrace what he’d done and what he still had left to do.

  Doing the right thing wasn’t always the easy thing.

  Dan shook his head vigorously, refocusing. He hadn’t even thought to check the van for the other men while he stood there gawking. One of them could have put a bullet in his head ten times over. If he survived this he’d have plenty of time for reflection; now he had a job to do.

  Dan looked inside the van and found it devoid of the remaining three gang members.

  The rest of them had to be inside.