Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands

by Brian J. Jarrett

  “That was your husband? Ryan?”

  “Yes,” Beth replied.

  Richard reached into his backpack, retrieving two sticks of beef jerky. He opened one, peeling the wrapper off. He tossed the package down before breaking the stick in half. He placed one of the halves between his lips like a cigarette before handing the other half to Beth.

  Beth took the beef jerky, examining it in the light of the fire. “This is it? This is all you’re going to give me?”

  Richard furrowed his brow. “Seriously?” he said, the beef jerky dangling from his lip.

  Beth shook her head. “You greedy fucking pig.”

  Richard reached for his gun. “You little bitch, I’ll-”

  Beth lunged forward, plunging a knife deep into Richard’s throat. He froze, eyes wide as blood seeped from the wound. The jerky dropped from his lips as he clawed at the knife. He opened and closed his mouth, bubbles forming in the blood. Moments later he went limp and fell to the forest floor.

  Beth stared at the corpse. “Greedy, greedy, greedy.”

  A man’s voice called out from the dark forest. “Quick on the draw, eh?”

  “I had to be,” Beth replied. “It was taking you two fucking forever to get here. Where were you, Ryan?”

  The man stepped into the light of the fire. “Sorry, babe.”

  A second man fell in behind him. “What did we get?”

  “You mean what did I get, don’t you Danny? I’m the one that stuck him.”

  “Sure,” Danny replied, shrugging. He stayed behind Ryan.

  Beth shook her head, sighing. “He’s got a backpack here. Looks pretty full.”

  “And he built us a fire,” Ryan added, grinning.

  Beth knelt and retrieved her knife from Richard’s throat, wiping it on the dead man’s shirt. “At least he was good for something.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  As the hand reached in through the doorway of the train car, Zach stood, frozen. Beside him, Jeremy tugged at his brother’s sleeve. “Zach! Get the gun!”

  The pistol was still in the pack strapped to his back. Frantic, Zach struggled to remove the pack as a woman peeked in.

  “Are you boys okay?” the woman asked.

  Zach realized he’d been holding his breath. “Yeah,” he said, exhaling. “We thought you were a carrier.”

  “Who’s in there, Rose?” A man’s voice called out from behind the woman, out of sight.

  “A couple of boys.”

  The man fell in behind her. “I see.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you kids friendly?”

  “Are you?” Jeremy asked, a defiant glare in his eyes.

  “That depends on your answer,” the man replied, stepping into view. He was big, built like a football player.

  “Max, don’t,” Rose said. “They’re just kids.”

  “Are you two alone?” Max asked.

  Zach took a deep breath. “No…I mean, yeah.” He glanced at Jeremy. “We’re looking for our dad.”

  “Were you on the train when it crashed?” Rose asked.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said.

  “So were we,” Rose said. “You two were lucky. Not many of us made it.”

  “After the crash, a man dressed like a guardsman pulled us away and tied us up in an old house,” Zach said.

  “But he wasn’t a guardsman, he was bad. He took Trish,” Jeremy added.

  “Who’s Trish?” Rose asked. “Your sister?”

  “No, she’s our…stepmom, I guess.”

  “Somebody tied you up?” Max asked. “For real?”

  Both boys nodded in unison. “But we got away,” Zach said.

  “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Rose asked.

  “No, we’re okay,” Zach said.

  “Hey, I’m not trying to boss you around here, but I’d get the hell out of this train car if I was you.” He glanced at the dead carrier. “This place is a death trap.”

  “That’s what we were trying to do,” Jeremy added.

  Rose looked at the boys. “Do you two have a place to go?”

  Both Zach and Jeremy shook their heads.

  “Well, you’re welcome to come with us,” Rose offered.

  “Rose…” Max began.

  Rose held up a hand. “Max, it’ll be fine.”

  Zach felt apprehensive about going anywhere with anyone. “Where are you guys going?”

  “Anywhere but here,” Max answered.

  Zach hesitated. He wondered, was it safe to trust these two?

  Max glanced over his shoulder. “You coming or not?”

  Rose smiled at the boys. She extended her hand. “It’ll be okay. Come on.”

  Zach hesitated again. Without his father, the decisions were incredibly difficult. Sometimes, you only have your gut to go on, his father had told him. Zach’s gut told him he could trust this couple. He slung his father’s backpack onto one shoulder, nearly falling under the weight. “Okay,” he said, regaining his balance. “Let’s go.”

  Glancing at his brother, Zach followed the couple through the door. He could only hope that he hadn’t just made the worst decision of his life.

  * * *

  After exiting the train car, they scanned their surroundings, searching the area for threats. No sign of carriers, including the two last seen near the front of the train.

  “This way,” Max said. The rest of the group followed. Zach did his best trying to carry his father’s backpack, but his struggling quickly became obvious.

  “Let me help you with that,” Max offered.

  Zach shook his head. Something in his gut told him not to give up the pack. “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. If we need to run you won’t be able to. Let me help you.”

  Zach paused. “It’s my dad’s pack.”

  Max’s face grew serious. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.” He turned toward Jeremy. “What about yours? That second one you got there? Too heavy?”

  “Kinda.”

  Rose stepped in. “I’ll take it, honey.”

  Reluctantly, Zach handed away his father’s pack.

  After slinging the extra backpack over his shoulder, Max turned to the boys. “We’ll find an empty house and hole up for a bit. Then we can figure out what we do from there.”

  Zach hesitated.

  “You can trust us,” Rose said, her eyes imploring. “We need to get off these streets.”

  Zach glanced at his brother who stared at him, as if waiting for an answer. He could feel his duty of responsibility pressing like a weight on his chest. “Okay.”

  They were committed now.

  Max chose a direction and headed away from the wreckage, toward the street running alongside the railroad tracks. Max took the lead, followed by Zach. Jeremy followed his big brother while Rose brought up the rear.

  The boys did as they always had while on the road. Their senses remained on high alert, watching and listening for carriers or any other dangers. It was second nature now, even after the year they’d spent in St. Louis, away from the outside world.

  The group jogged at a quick pace, zigzagging their way through the streets. Off the main drag, tar and gravel covered the streets which ran alongside modest frame houses covered with vinyl siding.

  Rose pointed out a small, light green dwelling sitting a dozen feet away from the street. “What about that one?”

  Zach noticed broken windows along the side of the house. He pointed them out. “Could be carriers inside.”

  “He’s right,” Max added. “Good eye, son.”

  “Over there,” Jeremy cried, pointing toward a dingy, gray structure sitting next to the street. It was a little close to the street, but Zach could see no broken windows or open doors. It looked promising. Somehow he’d overlooked it. He was supposed to be the one in charge, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

  “I’ll go check it out,” Max said.

  Rose glanced toward the house. “Be careful.”

  Max jogged away, hop
ping the small fence surround the yard and disappearing from view as he circled the property. A few moments later he reappeared from the other side.

  “Clear,” he said, still panting. “Windows and doors sealed up all around. Problem is, they’re covered by iron bars. Seems like this area wasn’t safe even before the virus.”

  “Check the door,” Rose said.

  Max climbed the front step and tried the door. “Locked,” he called back to the group. “This is solid oak. We’re not getting in this place.”

  “What about through there?” Jeremy said, pointing to a small window. It sat a few feet away from the door, without bars.

  Max inspected the window. “Too small.”

  “Not for me.”

  “We can’t send you in by yourself, honey,” Rose said. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll find another house.”

  “I can do it, honest. It’ll be easy.”

  Max shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “He can do it,” Zach said, surprising himself by volunteering his brother. “He’s small enough.”

  “You sure?”

  The boys nodded.

  “Alright then.” The window sat high off the ground, but with Max’s tall build he could reach. Removing a knife from his hip, he turned it around backward and smacked the window with the handle, cracking the glass. A second blow shattered it completely. He raked away the glass shards with the dull side of the blade before turning to Jeremy. “Ready?”

  Zach felt apprehensive as he watched his brother walk to Max. Now he wasn’t so sure sending Jeremy into the house was such a good idea.

  Max bent before Jeremy. “You see anything inside that house you hightail it back out this window, you hear?”

  “Got it.”

  Max laced his fingers together like a stirrup and boosted Jeremy up to the small window. Moments later the boy’s feet disappeared inside as he wriggled in through the tight space.

  As each second ticked by, Zach’s imagination ran wild. Had he put his brother in danger, all because he didn’t want to admit he might have been wrong about volunteering him? Anything could be in there. He’d already lost his mother, maybe his father and even Trish. He couldn’t lose his brother. He’d be all alone then.

  No sound from inside. Zach’s mouth went dry. His insides felt like jelly.

  Then a click as the deadbolt disengaged. A moment later Jeremy had the door open.

  “Good man!” Max said, smiling. He walked inside, followed by Rose as Jeremy held the door for them.

  Zach walked past his brother and paused. “You did good, little brother.”

  Jeremy smiled, his face beaming with pride.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Rand, stop!” a voice cried out.

  Dave opened his eyes and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “What the hell, Calvin?” Rand said, his eyes narrow. “He fucking killed Peterson!”

  “I can see that,” Calvin remarked, his tone calm and collected.

  Rand shot Calvin an incredulous look. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “We have one of our men here missing his head. That much is very clear. What isn’t clear is how such a thing could have happened.”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m putting a bullet in this asshole’s head.”

  “No, you’re not. Not yet.”

  Rand didn’t move.

  “That’s an order.”

  Closing his eyes, Rand took a deep breath before slowly lowering the rifle.

  “Now, since our good friend Peterson here couldn’t seem to do the job of keeping these prisoners in line, maybe you could do a better job?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent.” Calvin pointed at Dave. “You. You’re going to ride up front with me. You try anything and I will put you down. Do you understand?”

  Dave nodded.

  “What do we do with Peterson?” Rand asked.

  “Dump him. He’s of no use to us now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rand hopped into the back of the truck and walked up to Dave. “Get out.”

  Still unable to process exactly what was happening, Dave didn’t move.

  “I said, get the fuck out.”

  “I’d move if I were you,” Calvin said. “Next time he will shoot you.”

  Dave rose, his senses reeling. He felt as if he were in another world, watching things unfold from afar. First the bombs and then Annette and the baby. Now this. Everything had gone to hell. Why didn’t they just shoot him and get it over with?

  He stepped through the mess of blood and brains as he made his way out of the truck. A moment later he stood on hard concrete.

  “Come on,” Calvin said as he headed back to the driver’s seat.

  Dave followed. Behind him he heard the sound of Rand dragging Peterson’s body off the truck. A moment later it hit the ground with a dull thud.

  Dave climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind him as Calvin seated himself behind the wheel and started up the truck. The engine roared to life, belching black smoke as the old diesel burned. Moments later they were moving again.

  “What’s your name?” Calvin asked.

  “Dave.”

  “No, your last name.”

  “Porter.”

  “Ever killed anybody, Porter? I mean before Peterson back there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How many?”

  Dave shrugged. “A couple of people.”

  “Funny, I’d have pinned you for more. You ever receive any special training?”

  Dave shook his head. “No.”

  “Police? Army? UFC?”

  “No.”

  “Serial killer?”

  “Hardly.”

  “So how’d you manage to take out our guy back there?”

  “Lucky, I guess.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. Did the others help?”

  Dave looked out the window. “No. They sat there and did nothing.”

  “Peterson was an idiot, but he could hold his own in a fight. Still, there’s no love lost there.” He glanced at Dave. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we took you.”

  “I just figured you were crazy.”

  Calvin chuckled. “We’re building a new world here, Porter.”

  “By kidnapping people?”

  “That’s only part of it. We need people to do the grunt work.”

  “You mean slaves.”

  Calvin locked eyes with Dave. “Slaves are in the back of this truck, Porter. Where are you?”

  Dave remained silent.

  “The girl you were with, what happened to her? She wasn’t in the back just now.”

  “As if you don’t know.”

  “I wasn’t back there. Peterson was. Did he kill her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You mean you don’t know if she’s dead or she’s dead and you don’t know if Peterson killed her?”

  “I don’t know what happened. Peterson kicked the shit out of me and I blacked out. When I woke up she was gone.”

  Calvin took a deep breath. “My men have certain...latitude. It’s the way I lead. But Peterson’s been known to get out of hand. If that’s what he did then he got what was coming to him. You and me, we’re square.”

  Dave only stared out the windshield.

  “This kind of stuff happens. There’s no way you’re a stranger to it, not this late in the game. You’ve seen your share. But you’ll get by. We all do. You’re gonna have to put it behind you.”

  Without anything to say, Dave only nodded.

  “Good." Calvin stared at Dave, a gleam in his eye. He grinned wide. “Let me tell you about Kansas City.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The woman lunged from the shadows, slamming a brick against Ryder’s head. The impact made a sound like a hammer striking a ripe melon as they fell together, landing in a twisted heap. Ryder moaned as the flashlight struck the floor and rolled.

&
nbsp; Yelling, the woman got to her knees and lifted the brick high, driving it into Ryder’s head again. He jerked as his body went limp. Lifting the brick again, she let it fall a third time.

  Ryder lay motionless, eyes closed, a trickle of blood leaking from his hairline.

  Panting, the woman turned toward Trish. Unkempt white hair sprouted above her liver-spotted face. “You okay?”

  Trish nodded vigorously. “Please get me out of here.”

  “Heard what he said,” the woman said, standing. “Couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Hit him again,” Trish said, her tone urgent. “Make sure he’s dead.”

  “Oh, he ain’t getting up. I brained him but good.”

  “Hit him again! If he wakes up he’ll kill both of us!”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have you out in a jiffy.” Placing the brick on the floor, Trish’s rescuer retrieved a small knife from her front pocket. She sawed at the ropes around Trish’s wrists. “Damned old knife is dull as shit. Hang in there, I’ll get it.”

  Taut as a guitar string, Trish couldn’t relax. She glanced repeatedly at Ryder’s still form lying on the floor. “Hurry, please!”

  “Hold your horses,” the old woman said, frustrated. “I’m working as fast as I can.”

  The pocketknife carved its way through the rope around Trish’s wrists, the nylon fibers popping as the blade passed through. A few seconds later it had chewed its way through the first rope.

  “Hold still,” the old woman said.

  “I’m trying!” Barely able to sit, Trish watched as the blade made its slow progress. She glanced over again to where Ryder lay.

  He was gone.

  “Oh my god! He’s-”

  Ryder drove his boot into the old woman’s head, knocking her to the floor. The knife flew from her hand, skidding into the darkness. “You old bitch!” he screamed. “YOU ARE SO FUCKING DEAD!”

  Trish launched herself toward where she’d seen the knife go, landing on her belly, her elbows smacking the concrete floor hard. She barely noticed the pain. She glanced behind. Ryder stood above the moaning woman, his foot in the air. A moment later, he stomped. The woman jerked her head to the side as his boot heel crunched into the floor.

  “Cunt!” he snarled.

  Grasping the brick, the old woman swung, ramming it into Ryder’s shin. He howled in pain.