The Wasteland Series: Books 1-3 of the post-apocalyptic survival series

by Jon Cronshaw

“He's probably right.” He wipes dried flecks of gum from his eyes. “I don’t know, Sal. You can't sustain all these people in one place. Even if you work together to build something, food’s scarce.”

  “This is what Jacob was saying. I don't want to do that.”

  Abel leans back and sighs. “People are tougher than you give them credit for, Sal. They'll find a way. The people at the Grid just want their homes back.”

  Sal looks up and draws in a breath. “We all want our homes back.”

  “I've been wandering for years now. I’ve lived here and there, I’ve got the place with the kid.” Abel shakes his head. “I've come to realise that home isn't about buildings. Home is about people.” He swallows. “I care about the kid. It's home when I’m with him. It was the same with Pip and I feel that as well with Trinity, but that was because of you and all the things you've done for me over the years.”

  “I'm supposed to be a leader. I’m supposed to be a priest...” Her voice cracks. “Look at me.”

  “You inspire people, Sal. You inspired me to be a better person. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, I owe you so much.”

  He feels a finger rest across his lips. Sal moves her head towards his and kisses him. A hand moves around the back of his head as she pulls her mouth against his, lingering for several moments, pulling away when Abel grows tense. “What is it?”

  “Damn it, Sal.” He shakes his head and shuffles away from her. “You’re not thinking right.”

  “I thought this is what you wanted?” Sal leans back and looks up at the car’s ceiling. She smacks her fist against the passenger seat’s headrest. “I thought you liked me.”

  Abel squeezes the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep sigh. “I do. I really do. But not like this. Not here.”

  Sal sucks in a breath and gulps. “I'm sorry to have troubled you.” She opens the door and scrambles from the car, slamming it behind her. She's already disappeared into the dark when Abel calls after her.

  ABEL AND DAVID STAND in line with the others, waiting for their breakfast. When they reach the food hut, Jacob offers Abel a smile and hands each of them a tin. “Sal told me everything you've done for Trinity. I’m glad you were there for us when she couldn’t cope. Thank you.”

  Abel nods. “Make sure you go easy on her. She is finding this whole thing really difficult.”

  Jacob raises an eyebrow and nods. “I understand.”

  “We’re going to get on the road after breakfast. Leave you guys to it.”

  Jacob reaches inside the shed and pulls out a dented metal petrol can. Liquid sloshes around inside. He hands it to Abel.

  “What's this?”

  “It's water. And I know you haven’t got your packs. This should keep you going.”

  “That’s appreciated.” Abel pats Jacob’s shoulder and smiles. “Thanks.”

  Jacob turns back inside and hands Abel, David and Sis an extra food can. “I wish I could give you more,” he says. “We’re going to have to ration food.”

  “Thank you.”

  They walk over to Sal sitting in front of a burning fire. “Mind if I join you?” Abel asks. She looks up at him with an unsure smile.

  “Sure,” she says, glancing down.

  “How are you doing?” Abel smiles, piercing a tin with his knife and working around the lid.

  “I'm fine,” she says, not meeting his gaze.

  “You sure?” He flips off the lid to reveal more beans.

  “I said I’m fine.” Sal folds her arms. They sit in silence as the beans cook.

  “We’re heading home this morning. I hope everything works out here.”

  “Me too,” Sal whispers.

  Abel watches as David and Sis devour their beans. He takes his slowly, savouring the warmth. He gets up when he finishes and looks at Sal. “You’ll get through this. And you’ll still have a friend when you do.” He reaches out a hand and Sal stands and embraces him.

  “I'm so sorry,” she whispers.

  Abel shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  15. The Ditch

  Wisps of cloud flutter across the sky as Abel, David and Sis head east along the highway. “They've got packs,” says David, gesturing to the three bodies.

  Abel looks along the side of the road. “Can you see anyone, Sis?”

  Sis hops onto the roof of a nearby car, her knees bending as its suspension creaks. She takes up a rifle and looks down its sight, sweeping the landscape. “Some dogs over there,” she says, pointing to the south-east. “Too far away to shoot.”

  Abel crouches over the first man and drags a nylon backpack away from the body. A gaping hole dominates the centre of his forehead, eyes staring ahead. He opens the top flap and tips its contents onto the floor. He stuffs a few pairs of woollen socks back inside and unscrews the cap of a water bottle, sniffing its contents. He throws aside a couple of T-shirts filthy and stinking of sweat, and takes the metal bowl and fork, grabbing them along with a box of matches. In the pack’s side pocket, he finds a needle and thread, and a compass. Taking the compass, he holds it flat in his hand and examines it, squinting.

  “What is it?” David asks.

  Abel, scratches the back of his head. “Well, I'll be damned. It's a compass.”

  “What's it do?”

  “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”

  David grips Abel’s arm and leans over the compass, tilting his head this way and that. “How does it work?”

  “Damned if I know, kid. Shows you where north is.”

  “Is it electric?”

  “No.” Abel shrugs. “It just works on its own, I guess.” He slides the compass into his jacket. Crouching next to the taller man, he picks up a shotgun. Its single barrel extends two-feet-long with a tanned leather shoulder strap. “This could come in useful. Bit more intimidating than the pistol.” He rummages through the man's battered jacket and retrieves five shotgun cartridges and a blunted switchblade. He drops the cartridges into his pocket and slips the knife into his pack.

  He looks up as Sis drags the jacket from the smallest man, fleece-lined in leather with an assortment of pockets. She slides her shoulders from her own jacket, lets it drop to the ground, and transfers its the contents to the new one.

  David picks up a pistol and slides it into his coat.

  Abel puts a hand out, reaching towards the pistol. “I think I should have that.”

  David scowls and shakes his head. “You've got one. All I've got is a piddly little knife.”

  “Damn it, kid. Please, don't kill anyone unless you really, really have to.”

  David nods. Kneeling, he feels inside the man's jacket and takes out a couple of bullets. “Think these work?”

  Abel shrugs. “Who could say? The one in mine didn’t.”

  David tips the contents from the backpack, finds a few tins of food and some dirty clothes, and puts the food back, grinning. His eyes pass over the bodies and his grin drops. “What should we do about these?”

  “Sal said to leave them.”

  David meets his gaze and Abel nods, looking around. “We don’t have time to bury them properly. We’ll get them off the road.”

  “Ditch,” Sis suggests, gesturing south towards a muddy scar running along the highway’s edge.

  Abel follows her gaze and nods. “You think you can take the smaller one?”

  Sis nods.

  “You grab the other one, kid.”

  David looks around, the side of his mouth twitching. “Okay.”

  Abel scoops the tallest man underneath the armpits and walks backwards across the asphalt. The man’s feet jerk along the ground in unpredictable spasms, responding to each crack and stone. David follows and Sis speeds on ahead, over the lip of the highway and onto the soft ground.

  Furry white fungus clings to the trees overlooking the ditch, their branches wilted and grey. Shadows flicker along the pool of muddy water as a red and black insect lands on its surface. Sis rolls her body in first
, standing over it as it slowly sinks.

  Abel waits, his eyes catching the charred sodden logs of an old campfire. He spits on his hands and pushes the body on top of the first. He glances towards David. “You okay, kid?”

  “I usually want someone to say something, but these guys were going to kill us if Sis hadn’t...” His voice trails off.

  “It’s alright. We don’t have to say anything.”

  David turns to Sis. “Thanks. You took them out before they hurt anyone.”

  Sis nods. “Had to.”

  “Here,” Abel says, crouching next to David and rolling the body into the ditch. He gets up and wipes his hands, gesturing towards the highway. “Come on.”

  THEY REACH THE ROAD leading to Trinity an hour or so after lunch. The trenches have been filled in with rubble or otherwise covered with thick sheets of wood. The barriers lie shattered at the roadside.

  Abel stares up at the crucifix for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Damn it,” he mutters.

  “They got five guards,” Sis says, looking through her rifle sight.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Abel says.

  They march ahead, following the highway’s gentle slope. The trees to the right stand bare, their fallen leaves carpeting the ground. Below, dead fires and torn earth remain the only signs of the king’s camp.

  “I was thinking about that compass,” says David. “Bet you would have got some good stuff to trade for it.”

  Abel sighs again. “Would. We’ll have to find the caravans out west until Sal gets things back up and running.”

  “You think she's okay?”

  “Damn it, kid.” Abel stops and turns to him. “I don't know. She was in a bad way when we left.”

  David shakes his head. “When my uncle died...” His voice trails off.

  “Sorry, kid. We’ve all had it tough.” Abel looks to see Sis standing still, staring towards Trinity. “You coming?”

  She lowers her rifle and turns to him. “Bike in there.”

  Abel raises his hands. “There's not a lot we can do about that.”

  “Want to get it back.”

  “They'll kill you.”

  Sis shakes her head. “What use have they for bike? I should just get it back.”

  “It’s not worth it.”

  Abel runs over to her and pulls her arm. “Come on,” he says, nodding towards the city. “We can look out for a new bike.”

  Sis meets his gaze for a long moment, and then nods. She walks at Abel’s side for a while and takes his hand. They walk together, not talking.

  WHEN THE SUN DIPS BELOW the horizon behind them, their shadows fading into the dark, David gestures down an embankment to the highway’s right. “We should stay down there again.”

  Abel clears his throat. “What's down there?”

  “We stayed there once. Before the Family took me back to the city.”

  “I remember. You had diarrhoea and you fell in it. Had to clean you up in the river. You were like a baby.”

  David looks at the ground. “I hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

  “Don't worry about it, kid,” Abel says, patting him on the shoulder. “Happens to the best of us.” He looks at David for long moment, and smiles. “I’m proud of you, kid. I remember how you were when we first met. Look at you now.”

  They climb down the embankment until they reach a single-storey building nestled between the trees. “It’s worse than I remember,” David says, looking inside. “I'm sure there was a door.”

  “It had fallen off. Don’t you remember? We made a pile of blankets and things.”

  David nods.

  “There’s another building this way,” Abel says, carrying on down the slope. He hops over a trickling stream and takes a left, pushing through trees and down a steeper embankment, dropping onto an expanse of flat concrete. A crack runs along the ground, exposing soil and tree roots. Ancient cars stand in rows, decaying heaps of twisted metal.

  An old office building stands ahead.

  Abel leads the way through the double doors and into the lobby. He takes a right and sees his blue crosses marking the doorframes. “Sis, you should stay in this one. There's a bed in there. Make yourself comfortable.”

  David runs on ahead. “I'm taking the last one.”

  “I wouldn’t be going in there if I were you, kid.”

  David stops, his hand reaching for the door. “What is it?”

  “If I remember rightly, there's a body. Just bones now, but not really where you want to be sleeping.”

  After a moment's hesitation, David nods and leans into the next room. “This one looks okay.”

  “Yep. I don't mind staying with you. I can stay in another room. It's up to you, kid.”

  “I don't mind.” David drops his backpack onto the desk, sits on the chair and looks around. “There’s some books.”

  “Nothing useful. Nothing to trade.”

  David shakes his head. “Where could you trade them now? Can’t see Town wanting books.”

  Abel chuckles. “They’d probably just use them for a fire.”

  “I'm serious. I don't think the king’s going to trade with us.”

  Abel tugs at his beard and sighs. “We'll work something out, kid.” He goes over to the shelf and takes down the books, flicking through their pages before shrugging. “Speaking of fire. I don't know about you, but I’m starting to get hungry.”

  “I'll go and gather some wood.”

  Abel nods. “Sure. Take care.”

  David gets up and leaves. Abel returns to the corridor and approaches the end room. Covering his nose with a forearm, he opens the door. A metal bucket filled with ash stands in the corner. He looks around, squinting, but sees no signs of the bones. He shrugs to himself.

  Taking the bucket, he carries it to the lobby and sets it on the reception desk. He gets the books and tears out the pages, dropping them into the bucket.

  When David returns with brittle pine sticks bundled under his arm Abel moves the bucket near the door, builds a fire, and lights it with a single match. As the lobby fills up with smoke and firelight, Abel takes the bucket outside, its sides heating-up.

  Piercing the lids of a couple of tins. He drops them into the flames, goes back inside and knocks at Sis’s door. “You hungry?”

  Sis opens the door, poking her head out. “What?”

  Abel sees her rifles laid out on the bed, midway through cleaning. “You hungry?”

  Sis nods and retrieves a tin from her jacket pocket. She rests it on the table and Abel thrusts down on it with his knife, making a hole in the lid. “Just drop it in the bucket outside.”

  Abel goes back to David's room and finds him lying with his head resting on his rolled-up jacket, his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He glances up at Abel.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Was just thinking, this place is alright.”

  Abel shakes his head. “It’s too exposed here. I know the garage is a bit cramped, but at least it’s well-hidden.”

  “We’re miles from everywhere. We should move.”

  “What about the boat?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe we could move it.”

  “We get a lot of our trade from the city,” Abel says. “We need to be near it.”

  David nods and looks around. “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you're asking something like that, and now there’s usually something up.”

  “Right.” Abel rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t want to talk about it, kid.”

  “Sal was really weird with you before we left.”

  Abel swallows, nodding slightly. “Yep.”

  “You fall out or something.?”

  “She kissed me,” he sighs, slumping against the wall and sinking his head in his hands.

  David sits up, tilting his head. “I thought you liked her?”

  “Damn it, kid. I do like her—that's the pro
blem. You saw how she was yesterday. I don't know what she was doing.”

  “Maybe she just likes you?”

  Abel shakes his head. “It's not that simple, kid. She’s vulnerable, and she's in a bad place.”

  “You could be there for her. Maybe she is reaching out to you because she knows she can trust you. Maybe losing Trinity has made her realise what she really cares about.”

  Abel looks down at his hands. “This happened on the same day she lost her home, saw one of her friends getting shot in front of her, and chopped off her hair. Think about it, kid—she’s lost a home, her direction, her faith.”

  David doesn't say anything for a long while. Abel looks up to see Sis leaning through the doorway. “Food ready yet?”

  Abel nods. “Yep.”

  He gets to his feet when Sis leaves, his legs stiff and creaking.

  “I didn't think you believed in God,” David says.

  “What?” Abel gives him a confused look.

  “She's lost her faith. So, what? Thought you said it was just God stuff.”

  “Doesn't matter what I believe. It's important to her. Her world has fallen down around her and she reached out in some confused way. It wasn't done out of love, or because she really wants to be with me. She just did it because she's confused, because her head’s all over the place.”

  “Maybe.” David pushes out his bottom lip. “Maybe not.”

  Abel lets out a long sigh and gestures to the door. “Let’s go eat.”

  16. Remorse

  Abel sits with his back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, his shotgun bouncing on his palm. He places the weapon at his feet and stands, rubbing the back of his neck. He paces for several minutes, tugging at his beard. A noise comes from outside the room. Frowning, he picks up the shotgun and opens the door. He stands and listens. The building groans around him, the ceiling above clicking and creaking as a gale rages outside.

  The next door along opens and Sis leans out, rifle drawn. They both sigh, relaxing. “Can't sleep either?”

  Sis shakes her head and steps out into the corridor. “Noises.”