Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) (10 page)

The two who had followed the other horse were waiting in the wash. They had caught up with their quarry easily as the man’s horse tired. He had stopped and raised his hands in the air, and when they pulled up next to him, he had started singing his death song. He was an old man with his remaining teeth filed to a point, and they had let him go, not even taking the broken-stocked rifle that he carried.

The father was distraught on finding that his daughter was not on the appaloosa. He suggested they might have missed something and he would like to go back and search, but Cy and the others insisted they could do it later, after they rejoined the rest of the group. He agreed reluctantly with a wild look in his eye as though searching for hope.

Coming back to the point where the whole party had split, they were just about to climb out of the wash when the girl appeared at the crest. She was dressed in a frilly pink dress, and the late morning sun backlit her and the skirt like a fresh strawberry. As her father dismounted, still in the arroyo, she rushed down the bank and into his arms.

The rifle Till carried had done its business. The pursued were not the only ones who knew the terrain. Clint did, too. He had led the Wagon Master to the hilltop where he knew the fleeing men would have to pass beneath. The two were still together when they did, and the rifle spoke. Till chose to cut the horse down rather than aim at the smaller target of the man clutching the child to his chest, and the pony cartwheeled as the girl was flung away. She landed in sagebrush and, though scratched and shaken, would be fine. The man got up and ran. The other pony went down as the next shot pierced its lungs, and both men were on foot. By the time the men chasing them found the horses lying in the dust, the men had disappeared. The rescuers gathered up the young girl and made no effort to pursue the men on foot.

Stories were swapped as the men retreated along the path of the chase. Now that the recovery effort was over, and the excitement was waning, they had time to laugh and brag about what role they had each played. Arc made sure to embellish his part while minimizing what Edge had done. Edge said little. Finally, one of the men wheedled the story of the collision from him. Other than the shot that saved the child, Edge’s was easily the best tale of the day. Arc gave Edge an evil look as his own story was diminished.

The livestock left behind were scattered but not far. Clint identified all but one of the few animals as being from town and likely stolen. The big cow was there, the one Arc had traded for bullwhips, but there were no witnesses, so he just smiled and listened as they discussed the animals.

The cow would slow them down if they wanted to catch up with the train, even though they would be taking a shortcut around the south end of the Oquirrh Mountains between Tooele and what was left of Salt Lake City.

With the appaloosa in tow, not identified as one of the local horses, Edge offered the cow to the young boy who had proved so helpful. His eyes lit up, and he extended his hand and thanked Edge as they shook. The father of the girl had wondered how to thank the young man and approved. Not to be outdone, he offered Clint an ancient but serviceable pistol with a small bag of ammunition. In this remote area, the gift was a regal token of appreciation. On his return, the boy would be envied and congratulated.

The young man was left to herd the animals back to town, and the rescue party departed in good spirits. The girl implored her father to allow her on his horse, and the appaloosa remained riderless as they moved out to catch the wagons.

Edge, as the man who earned him, understood that the horse was a spoil of war.

R
uins always sobered those on the wagon train. By the time Salt Lake City had been leveled by Executive Order, the entire valley had been filled with homes and businesses. Much of the destruction had been hidden by time, along with the vegetation that grew up after, but the size of the city amazed everyone. Reno was big, and those from Roseburg were properly impressed, but Salt Lake excited even those living in and used to Reno. Many of the tallest buildings in Salt Lake were still standing, though damaged on one side and leaning away from the heaviest destruction. They stood as a testament to what once was and what might have been.

The explosion that resulted in a zero population within the valley between the Wasatch and Oquirrh Mountain ranges and significantly west, north, and south destroyed more than a city. But the present day wagons that so closely resembled the earliest pioneer’s conveyances were used by people who knew nothing about that past. Other than some legends that had filtered down by word of mouth, the trade expedition only knew that some areas grew back in small numbers and became adept at some form of industry… or they did not.

Even the radiation that had kept Salt Lake dangerous to any organic life had dissipated over time, and the threat had been long forgotten. There were better places to live, so what was left of the city moldered into wreckage, and the winds blew eerily through vacant windows in tall buildings. The people living in the few surrounding communities shunned the area as haunted.

This was where the employment of a guide became important. The highway straight through the city and up to the Wasatch Mountains was no longer viable. The crater directly beneath the blast had severed the concrete length of road that connected the east and west stretches of I-80, and the surrounding destruction created a maze of wasteland and destroyed obstacles. Cy had learned from his father as his father had learned from his, and the caravan turned south and around the epicenter of destruction.

There were two major routes into Denver from the west. Coming toward Utah, a mounted party of well-armed men could choose to make a more direct approach by using the old Highway 50. Eventually they would pass through the I-70 corridor, up to the Eisenhower Tunnel and down into Denver. The route was dry in many places, though never as much as the Salt Flats. The tunnel was intact but blocked to wagons at each end and would have to be cleared if ever to be used again. Wagons could go up and over the top of the Rockies on steep and dangerous roads. The major obstacles, and the ones making the decision easy in favor of the road to the north, were the cannibals.

The Sevier Valley, once a green and welcoming agricultural area dotted by small towns in decline, had been repopulated by people on the edge of sanity. When the plagues hit, the survivors and those who chose to pass through but stayed became a cloister of marginal civilization. After resources ran out because of time and natural decay and an especially harsh winter, the inhabitants reverted to anything they could do to survive. Strangers, always suspect even before the plague event, became a source of protein.

The new natives of central Utah, once known by Scandinavian surnames and prone to being blond and blue-eyed, became fierce and treacherous. By the time trade routes were reestablished, they were unrecognizable as once having been civilized. The most apparent manifestation of this was that they filed their front teeth to points. That, and the tribal tattoos depicting blood rituals, as well as mutilation that left strips of skin hanging from under the chin and from the cheeks, led to them being feared and avoided. The stories were feared… but reality was worse.

Till would not lead the wagon train on the southern trail.

The alternate route to Denver led through Salt Lake and up along I-80 through the growing town where Coalville once stood. The route to the east of the devastated city was lush with grass and had water in abundance through the mountains. Steep grades, some very long, were interspersed with places to rest animals used in heavy labor.

An easy decision having been made, Cy directed the wagons through the obstacles that Salt Lake City presented, and in two days they were ready to start climbing the old Parley’s Canyon summit.

Young Edge hitched all of the oxen in a long line. The two wagons would be pulled in tandem, one behind the other. That meant they were short one ox due to the missing cow. The animals picked up in Elko had survived the trip across the Salt Flats and were back to gaining weight, but they were still light for their frame. Edge knew the best place for them would be in the front of the hitch. The heaviest animals would be the ones closest to the wagons because that was where the weight would make the most difference. That gave them eleven span to get the two wagons to the top and one odd animal with no partner.

There were ways to lighten the loads, and people were busy getting inventive. A solution presented itself to Muffy, and she spoke of the idea to the two men.

Occam was emptying the barrels. There would be water at every stop ahead as they camped.

Watching the dark spot spread from beneath the bung in the barrel, the young woman knit her brow and gathered her thoughts.

“Why not use the hand cart? If we use it, we shan’t have the weight on the wagons.”

Occam looked skeptical, and laughed. “Well, sure, if you wish to pull it. I’m well sure that’s not going to work, my love.”

Edge was listening from inside the wagon as he adjusted the load forward.

Muffy shook her head. Men were so thick sometimes.

“No, my dear one, I have no need to pull. We have an ox for that.”

Speaking through the canvas, Edge asked, “How do we harness the beast? The horse collars are returned to their owner, and one ox won’t fill a yoke.”

“The breast band of a saddle will fill the necessity,” said Muffy, “and a cinch strap over and under to keep it in place.”

One of the reasons Occam loved the woman was that her mind was sharp. He thought about the proposal, and she allowed her man the time to cogitate. Muffy recognized that men needed that kind of thing.

“I suppose we could take the crossbar from between the shafts and hook the beast to them,” suggested Occam.

By this time Edge was done and had stuck his head from beneath the canvas.

“Pardon, Master, but why not cut some saplings and extend the shafts? There be little need to dismantle anything.”

Again, Occam looked thoughtful, and he smiled as he said, “Aye, lad, a good thought. Can you manage the cutting while I assemble the cart?”

With a satisfied look on her face, Muffy went back to work on other things. Her seed was planted in fertile soil, and the men by now had forgotten that it was her idea. She had done her part.

The cart was assembled and the saplings bound tightly to the side pull shafts. The lightest ox from Elko was placed between them, and with the help of some useful knots a rope finished the harness. The animal seemed willing to tolerate the strange use as he chewed his cud with eyelids drooping.

Once the conveyance was put together, some of the others made similar arrangements with carts they carried. Most used horses to pull them, and all placed a light load in the little carts. A couple hundred pounds could make a great difference on the long pull to come.

Once again, the Smithy wagon was close to the rear of the train. The Company wagons were grouped at the head. The Ox Master, Arc, had used every yoke they had to situate the teams in long lines of animals pulling double and even triple wagons. Each was coupled with the heaviest conveyance in the front and any bulls or heavy steers in the rear of each hitch.

Edge positioned himself next to the lead team of their hitch, and Occam stayed back with a bullwhip at the ready. He used it for effect as he snapped it over the heads of the oxen.

Following behind, Muffy led the single ox with the handcart, a lead attached to the ring in its nose.

Surprisingly, in the years of neglect over the last two centuries, the road was mostly clear of obstacles. Where there had once been a clear creek filled with cutthroat trout, the deteriorating cement of the highway filled the cavity from side to side and provided good footing for animals and wagons.

Cement barriers used to separate oncoming lanes had over time been moved so that openings were formed between them. In places where the hillsides had collapsed and filled one side or the other with rock and broken trees, the openings provided a winding path to the side not blocked and kept the debris from overflowing onto the whole road.

With so many animals having been lost on the Salt Flats, the wagons were a heavy burden for the Company teams. Riding the chestnut up and down the line, Arc admonished his men to crack the whip and keep the wagons moving. By the time they pulled the last grade for the day and into an area once used as a golf course, halfway to the pass, many of his oxen were stumbling, and their tongues were hanging from their mouths. When unhitched they stood without moving, exhausted.

The pull toward the summit tomorrow would be an even steeper grade, though shorter. Even in the days of heavy motors and internal combustion, the hill was a killer. If not the drivetrain when going uphill, then the brakes coming down were destroyed regularly. The runaway truck lanes, once deep, soft gravel intended to sink a truck to its axles and stop it, were overgrown and invisible to the wagoneers.

The hours of rest halfway up the long grade were telling on the stock. Occam and Edge, as well as others, went about checking all of the oxen. They were especially interested in their feet and the shoes they wore. The evening was spent reshoeing several. Since oxen have a hard time standing on three legs, and they had no cradle to support the massive beasts as they did at home, they threw them to the ground. Tying the front feet close together, they attached a rope to the hind foot on the side they wanted the ox to go down on. A quick and forceful jerk, bringing the hoof up under the animal, resulted in a sudden fall to the side. Someone was waiting to sit on the animal’s head immediately. They did not want any struggling for fear of injury, and keeping the head down calmed the beast. The new shoes were applied, the ropes removed, and the animal would lumber to its feet unscathed and prepared for miles to come.

After inspecting the next rise, Cy and Cable returned to the evening camp and made their way toward the Wagon Master’s Conestoga. Jody waylaid them and asked her brother about the road ahead. She had heard from her father that the pull would be intense over the pass, and they confirmed what he had said. She took it all in and decided to trail the men to the meeting so she could listen.