Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands (17 page)

“I don’t like that either. Isn’t there another way across?”

“Not really. Not without trying to cross the river or going out and around the city. That’d be miles out of the way.”

“But it would be safer.”

“Maybe, but there’s no guarantee of that. If we cut through the city, hard and fast, we’ll be back in the woods again in a matter of minutes, not hours.”

“I don’t know…”

“Honey,” Max said, “Trish is right. Going through is really our best option.”

“But we’re too exposed.”

“We’re exposed everywhere.”

“Not like this, not near a city. It could be full of those things. Or worse.”

“Rose, come on, be reasonable.”

Rose squinted her eyes and folded her arms. “I feel like I’m the only one here who is being reasonable.”

“How about we think about it over some food?” Trish suggested. “We could double back into the woods and find that steam we passed a half-mile or so. Boil some water and eat some hot food. Then we can decide what to do.”

Rose stood, arms still crossed. Eventually she nodded her head. “Okay. That sounds fair. I’m sure the boys could use some food too.”

Zach and Jeremy agreed.

“I just don’t want us to go out of our way for nothing,” Max continued, “or end up worse off. If we go through-”

“Let’s just pick this conversation up later,” Trish said. “We don’t need to decide now.”

Max’s eyes narrowed momentarily. He glanced back and forth between Trish and Rose. “Alright, fine.”

“Come on, guys,” Trish said to Zach and Jeremy. “Let’s get moving.”

The boys stood, falling in behind Trish.

Rose followed, leaving Max where he stood.

Max sighed, shaking his head. “I wish I had a cigarette,” he said before heading after them rest of the group.

* * *

Max heated tomato soup above an open campfire while Zach and Jeremy lit sticks and watched them burn. Trish stood away from the fire, looking into the darkened forest toward the railroad track. She glanced toward the fire, wishing she had some marshmallows for the kids to roast. Even more, she wanted to see Ed there, sitting between the boys, his arms around them as the fire warmed their faces.

“Those are two great boys,” Rose said.

Trish turned quickly, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard Rose approach.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess I was daydreaming.”

The fire crackled. Red-orange specks of burning wood drifted into the air, pushed upward by hot air currents. Crickets chirped in the distance as a gentle breeze rustled leaves in the darkness.
 

“Do you believe in Heaven?” Rose finally asked.

Trish took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I used to.”

“When the virus came I asked God how He could do such a thing to the world. How He could allow so many innocent people to die. I thought about the story of Noah, about how God had destroyed the world once before. So I thought maybe he’d done it again. I thought we were seeing Bible prophecy at work. At least then things made sense.

“We survived, you know? The three of us, including my son, Ian. We were believers. We went to church. We prayed. We followed the gospel. It took us so long to get pregnant; I was almost forty when he was born. Ian was our miracle. So when everybody else got sick I thought God had protected us.”

“But something changed.”

“Ian got sick. A few days later my little boy was dead. Then nothing made sense at all. I didn’t know what I believed anymore.”

“Do you still believe?”

“I have to. I can’t bear the thought of not seeing him again. That would destroy me.”

Moments passed, silent. Nocturnal birds chirped out their songs in the dark forest.

“Those boys, I know they’re not blood,” Rose continued, “but they’ve taken to you like they’re yours.”

“They’re very important to me. The most important thing.”

“They’re a gift. Whether you believe in God or life after death, nothing changes that. I’d give up the rest of my life if I could have my little boy back for just one more day.”

More silence passed.

“You think going through the city is best?” Rose asked.

“I think so.”

“Then let’s do it. Tonight. The sooner we get back on track again the sooner we get those boys to a safe place.”

“You’re sure?”

“Not really. But sometimes you have to have faith.”

* * *

After darkness fell they packed up, extinguishing the last remnants of their fire by smothering it with dirt. They walked back to the railroad tracks through the darkened forest, the forest’s canopy blocking out the feeble light provided by the half moon overhead.

Once at the tracks the forest opened up, allowing the moonlight to shine through. While they could see well enough to navigate the tracks, the light remained minimal, providing some degree of cover. Quietly they walked along the track toward the city, with only the sound of their feet upon the gravel broadcasting their presence.

Slowed by the darkness, the walk back took longer than it had before. Eventually they found themselves back at the forest’s edge, peering out into the darkened, ruined city.
 

Trish squatted, level with the boys. “Stick with me. Don’t get separated.”

“Okay,” both Zach and Jeremy said.

“What if you do?”

“We keep going until we make it to the woods,” Zach said.

“And what else?”

“If you don’t find us by mid-day tomorrow we go on without you.”

“Good. Promise me.”

“But-” Jeremy began.

“No buts,” Trish said. “Promise me.”

“We promise,” they said in unison.

“We’ll be okay. Just keep moving and stick together. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Trish retrieved Ryder’s pistol from her pocket, flipping off the safety. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

Using the feeble light cast by the moon hanging high in the sky above them, Trish navigated the track. Beside them the Missouri River gurgled while crickets sang in the overgrown fields. Gravel crunched under their feet. Dewy air covered them like a blanket.

Trish led the group, followed by Zach and Jeremy. Max and Rose brought up the rear. With each step she took something tugged at her gut, something ominous and dangerous, while at the same time amorphous and fleeting. Something impossible to pin down. It took all she had to resist the urge to run, to simply break out and sprint across the exposed section of track, diving into the protective forest beckoning them from afar.

She walked quickly, as quickly as she thought they could all manage without injuring themselves. Navigating railroad tracks proved tricky enough in the daytime, even more so in the anemic moonlight. A sprained or broken ankle would be devastating, possibly even deadly.

The seconds ticked by. Trish placed one foot in front of the other, targeting the railroad ties with her boots to avoid walking on the jagged gravel. Shapes took on frightening forms in the darkness, objects silhouetted by moonlight. Her mind had no problem imagining them all to be the dangerous creatures she feared.

Attempting to ignore the tricks her eyes were playing on her, Trish glanced down at the track again, diverting her eyes from the shadows. She placed her feet on the dark railroad ties, one by one, focused on making it to the other side.

She noticed debris on the track. A short stick, reflecting white moonlight back at her. Then another, further ahead, lying haphazardly upon the track. She kept moving, staring at it as she passed.

Another, glaring grizzly white back at her. She peered ahead, eyes following the track as far as she could in the dim light. Dozens of similar objects lay strewn about, piled up on the tracks and spilling down the side. Curious, she slowed, inspecting the objects.

Then she saw it. A human skull lying amidst piles of bones, covering the tracks for as far as she could see.

A chill ran down her spine. She opened her mouth to tell them all to run, to run as fast as they could, but she never made it that far. A scream pierced the quiet night, followed by the sound of frenetic footfalls and the odor of rot as a figure rushed toward her out of the shadows.

The next day Ed felt a little better. The pain remained, but lessened in its intensity, exchanging sharp jabs for dull throbs. He slept most of the day, partially due to his injuries and stress, partially because he simply did not want to be awake. No dreams accosted him while he slept, allowing him to drift off into blissful nothingness.

He ate once in the morning and once in the evening. He urinated in a bottle throughout the day, getting up to dump it only on Jasper’s insistence.

The following day Jasper brought Ed some books from his personal collection. It seemed that Jasper had a macabre fascination with the “Zombie Apocalypse”, or at least how writers had envisioned it before it actually happened. Ed read through the books, some ridiculous in their errors and some chilling in their accuracy.

Ed had never fancied himself as much of a reader before the virus, but he quickly discovered how much power the medium possessed. Instead of dwelling on his missing family, he lost himself in different worlds, focused on the lives and problems of others, rather than his own.

He found himself particularly drawn to a character named Gus, star of Keith Blackmore’s aptly-titled
Mountain Man
. Though Gus drank heavily and cursed fluently, he also displayed compassion and kindness in the face of it all. Ed couldn’t help but wonder if Jasper, like Gus, had accumulated an equally impressive stockpile of toilet paper.

Jasper came and went, collecting supplies and recharging his stockpile. “I gotta get outta here for a bit,” he told Ed. “Gonna go ride and see what I can find. If I don’t come back, the place is yours.”

By the end of the third day Jasper returned before dark, bringing with him an entire case of Slim Jims. “Jackpot!” he exclaimed, barging into Ed’s room and tossing the box down upon the floor. “I burned through my last bunch of these things a couple months ago. They’re salty as shit, but they beat the hell outta creamed corn.”

They ate the jerky in silence. Ed could tell Jasper wanted to talk, but Ed didn’t feel up to it. After reading all day he’d staved off the depression for a while, but it had now returned — with a vengeance. Only sleep could bring the necessary relief.

Jasper left him to it. Later that night, Ed awoke momentarily, Jasper’s familiar shape lay under thin sheets draped across the futon on the floor.

It was then, alive and well, saved by the compassion of a stranger, that Ed decided to live. He had no idea if Trish and the boys still lived and if so, where’d they’d gone. But he did know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he’d dedicate whatever days he had left in this world to finding them.

* * *

The following day, Ed awoke with his newfound sense of purpose. The doubt still nagged at him, threatening to crush him with debilitating grief, but he quelled the voices in his head. He focused only on getting better. Only then could he get back out there and search for his missing family.

“How’d you sleep?” Jasper asked.

“Better than I have for awhile now.”

“How’s the collarbone? Still giving you shit?”

“It is what it is. You think you can make me a sling for it?”

Jasper smiled. “You planning on getting out and about or something?”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do. I have to get out of this bed sometime, right?”

“That’s more like it, man. Just don’t overdo it. You don’t need to re-break anything.”

“I promise.”

“I’ve never made a sling before. And there’s no Internet to look it up.”

“It’s not hard. I’ll coach you through it.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I’ll make you something.”

“How about instead you make me that sling. Then I’ll help you make something.”

Jasper grinned. “Fair enough. About time you started pulling your weight around here.”

Ed smiled back. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The carrier leapt, knocking Trish to the ground. Ryder’s pistol flew from her hand, disappearing into the darkness. She hit the gravel near the edge of the rail, landing hard, the sharp points of the jagged stones jabbing into her. She rolled down the elevated mound on which the track sat and into the tall grass growing alongside.

She came to a rest on her back, the carrier beside her. A moment later it sprang to its knees, scrambling toward her like a spider. Crawling backward, Trish struggled to get away. The carrier hissed, pouncing on top of her and straddling her stomach.

Opening its mouth wide, the carrier released an ear-piercing shriek. Urine, sweat, and feces attacked Trish’s sense of smell. She flailed wildly, trying desperately to pull herself out from under the weight of her attacker. As she did her hand brushed a lone chunk of railroad gravel lying in the grass.

The carrier bared its teeth and growled. It lunged toward her throat as she brought the rock up from the ground, smashing it into the thing’s head. Stunned, the carrier recoiled. Her muscles tensing, Trish slammed the jagged stone against the carrier’s head again, feeling the solid plate of bone crack beneath.

The carrier went limp and fell forward, landing on top of her, its head inches from her. The odor of rotten meat made her gag. She shoved her attacker away; it moaned in a low voice as it rolled onto its back beside her.

Now she could hear more carriers, moaning and screaming and growling erupting from the darkness all around her. They’d stumbled into a pack of them. In the dim moonlight she watched throngs of carriers exit through the front door of the Amtrak station.

She searched desperately for Zach and Jeremy. She saw only silhouettes twisting and writhing upon each other in the light of the moon. She called out, carriers hissed in the darkness at the sound of her voice.

No reply. Her heart sank.

Then she saw Jeremy, machete raised as he buried the blade into the head of a crawling carrier. A shot rang out beside him, the powder burn flashing in the darkness. Zach, with his father’s pistol.