Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) (6 page)

Noticing Edge across the fire, Jody tried to pick his voice from the rest as they sang. She had been watching him all day. Alone and aloof, he had seemed so thoughtful. As the wagon train marched forward each day at a dull pace, there was little to do of any interest, so people talked as they had opportunity. She learned from others that Edge had lost his father in a terrible accident not long before the expedition had departed. Piled on top of the loss, the community had shunned him along with several others they deemed guilty of responsibility in the calamity. So soon from her own loss, her interest was piqued. The young man’s voice blended well within the group, but it was full-bodied and deeper than most.

Heat from the fire intensified and ebbed as fuel was consumed. Edge appreciated that the heat had nothing to do with work. Even though he was learning and enjoyed the education at the hands of a worthy teacher, he was ready for any break in routine. Watching the musician massage and caress his hand-crafted guitar, he wished he could play. If he had any spare time he would have approached the man for lessons.

The girl next to the guitar player made him uncomfortable. He had not spoken to Jody since she joined the party, although he felt her loss. He just did not know what to say. She seemed to watch him with overly large, moist and beautiful eyes. And she seemed sad. He wondered what she was thinking.

The midnight hour drew nigh, and those people still surrounding the fire began to dissipate into the gloom. The fire having died down to coals, spit and popped, darkening into ash.

One of the women, an older matron not used to late hours, remained to chaperone the young ladies. But it was time to turn in. They would be leaving in the morning, and the next day would be another long one of marching alongside the wagons. She bent to touch the shoulders of those girls remaining and urged them to turn in.

Jody looked up reluctantly at the touch, wishing for the night to continue. She gathered her blanket about her and retired to the Conestoga she slept beneath. The wagon belonged to a man and woman travelling with their daughter from Reno, their position within the line of wagons determining their position in the circle. Her sleeping arrangements were directly opposite the young man she had been watching.

An easy sleeper, Jody fell into a deep slumber before the girl who shared her roof came to bed. During the night, Jody woke momentarily and noted the blankets next to her were empty. Thinking the girl had needed to pass water in the night, she fell back to sleep. Something woke her well before normal. A sense of apprehension permeated her, and she felt cold within the warmth of her bed. The blankets beside her were still empty.

Waking from his normally light sleep, a light tapping on the tailgate of his wagon, Master Till peered from between the curtains. His wife remained snoring quietly.

Jody was standing wrapped in a blanket at his step. She looked troubled.

“I can’t find Cherry, sir. She hasn’t been to bed tonight.”

Till groaned. Sleep was hard to come by, and he had been getting a better night’s than usual. This was all he needed, a missing kid.

“I’ll get my torch, girl. You wake my second, and get him here pronto.” He ducked back inside.

Soon the train was alive with activity. The Wagon Master searched one direction with Jody, inspecting each wagon in turn. The second in command, a man named Brick, searched the other direction with his travelling companion, a son new to the trail. As they met at the far side of the circle, they exchanged information. There was a crowd by now, gathered under the lightening sky. Each was questioned in regard to the missing girl. Her parents were scared and claimed her to be disinclined to run off or play at making jokes.

But the girl was missing.

L
eather creaked and groaned as rigging was stretched tight on each saddle. Bits clattered against the teeth of the ponies as bridles were placed on their heads. Rifles, inspected for lubrication and loaded to their full capacity, slammed home into saddle sheaths with loud thuds.

The scout and the other outriders had spent the night on the forward trail and were not expected to be seen until mid to late morning. They planned to meet the train in transit on the trail some distance ahead.

Trying everything he could think of, the radio man had been busy in the Wagon Master’s Conestoga trying to rouse the scouts on the portables, but not expecting any luck, he was not having any.

Volunteers in the search party were almost ready with men feeling the rush of adrenaline as they tried to chew the jerky that would be their only sustenance until they got back. There was no time for a decent breakfast. Men started to mount.

The eastern sky was a blaze of pink before the sun broke from the horizon.

One of the men from Roseburg emerged from between two wagons with a figure under the control of each of his hands. A hand gripped the ear of a young man, and the other was a vise on the arm of the missing girl. The young lady was crying and stumbled over her long skirts as she was thrown in the dust at the horse’s hooves. The boy looked ready to cry, his lip trembling, but he maintained as much composure as he could as he squirmed.

“Look what I’ve found sleeping in the grass outside of camp!” The older man spoke loudly. “These two were cuddled up like a couple of bunnies!”

Cherry’s mother, relieved of her worst fears, ignored the rest of the camp and the men on their milling horses. She ran to her daughter and knelt as she gathered her daughter in her arms. Her husband, the girl’s father, followed and stood over them protectively. He gave the boy an evil look, and the kid slunk away, cowering under his gaze.

Pounding on the side of the wagon, Till yelled through the canvas at the man using the radio.

“Belay that call…there be no need now! The girl is found.” Fatigue and stress lined Till’s face. Had he been less tired he would have been angrier. He should have counted the young men before ordering a search.

Young Cherry was led away, still in tears, by her mother. Her father followed stiff legged in anger. Almost immediately loud words issued from within their wagon.

The boy was from Roseburg and an apprentice of the Vintner. Normally a jocular man with a ready laugh, the spirit maker’s face clouded as he recognized his hired man. He stormed to the boy after dismounting and took the ear that had been spared by the other man in an iron grip. There were loud words exchanged in front of all to see. The young man’s offense was punishable, but the Master Vintner would consult with the Wagon Master first. In the meantime they would make ready to depart.

The rest of the crowd dispersed to their own labors. Horses were freed of their saddles and returned to the care of the Wranglers, and everyone grumbled in the aftermath. But in days to come the incident would generate much discussion, debate, and laughter. Humor would be found, except by the girl’s parents and the two young people involved. They were left out, for the most part, in their shame. Even though gruff in the face of his apprentice, the Vintner profited from the many jokes he made at his protégés expense.

Breaking camp, the scouts heard a garbled transmission from their radio. The deep cleft they had spent the night in prevented a good signal. The only thing they heard loudly enough to be deciphered clearly were the words “missing girl.” They threw the remaining coffee, so expensively traded from San Francisco, into the fire and mounted their horses and rode.

Covering the miles before the wagon train was well out of its circle, they pounded into the dismantled camp on foam flecked ponies with heaving sides.

Cy was livid. He hated abusing his animals, and the horses were winded beyond what they could expect to recover from easily.

When Cable and the others found out what the excitement was, they burst out laughing. One of the men had a daughter along, though, and he sobered well before the others with a thoughtful look on his face. Disappearing, he left to find his family. During that day several parents enforced a lesson on their children.

Since the rest of the remuda was already started on its way, the scouts swapped out their steaming ponies for riding horses on lead ropes behind wagons. Cable asked to ride “his” buckskin and Occam assented. The winded horse was tied to the back of the wagon to recuperate.

The middle of Nevada is unspectacular country. Rolling hills punctuated by jagged rock thrust up through the bland-colored surfaces make up most of the topography. Ravines and dry creek beds, any kind of erosion, provide the only interesting features. What little vegetation there is grows more desiccated as days warm and would soon be tinderbox dry. Sage brush and yellowed grasses cover the ground thinly in most areas, only proliferating where soils hold moisture. Any trees that grow are either arid adaptations native to desert or diseased and holding on by the grace of some form of hidden water. Despite the arid landscape, the sunrises and sunsets are spectacular. Those from Sullivan Territory marveled at the beauty at the start and end of day. Even those who had traveled to the coast and watched the sunsets over the pacific admitted that the desert had as much to offer. The people from Reno were impressed as well. The Sierra tended to cut the evening colors in half when they got the brightest, and the lower hills now to the west opened the sky wide to nature’s paintbrush.

Within the small, dry water courses, rabbits and ground squirrels made their homes. The long-eared hares waited under sage or other brush until almost stepped on to explode from cover and blast away in a fury of acceleration. Then they would start to bounce and finally stop to look back, sitting on their haunches. The few dogs brought along learned quickly that chasing them was useless. Mule deer with large ears and slender legs traveled in small family groups, and occasionally antelope in larger herds would be seen. Coyotes preyed on the furry ones and on any occasional afterbirth, fawn, or carcass of the larger animals they found. Hawks and vultures spiraled in the skies, and the raptors would stoop on small prey. They would be found sitting on the carcass and glaring, hesitating until the last second before flying off and giving up their kill, only to return later. Small birds sang, especially in the mornings and evenings, to accompany the waning or gathering light. The meadowlarks were the happiest birds, singing in their sweet, lilting notes to announce their presence on the top of any sprig.

Inhabitants of a much greener land, the Sullivanites either hated the land they traveled through or learned to love it.

Those with a nature to complain looked on the landscape as their enemy and spoke in negativity about the miles they covered. Master Arc was one of the worst. Any thrown shoe or saddle sore was seen as an opportunity to place blame, and if not on a human target, the country surrounding would do. He berated his apprentice mercilessly, considering little that the boy was new to a Trade. Occasionally the boy would catch a whipping, and even though many thought the Master out of line, they kept their opinions for the arena of gossip rather than confront the small tyrant. The other Masters watched and waited. Sooner or later they were sure that an incident would present itself, and the mean little bully would get his due. But in the meantime the boy suffered, uncomplaining and afraid.

In the wagon full of Smithy tools, Edge worked diligently at his new craft. Already Occam had favored him with some compliments, and the new apprentice knew that the Master Smith did not give false praise. He was catching on to the tricks of his trade under the Master’s tutelage and was thankful.

Whenever outside the wagon, Edge would stay out of Arc’s way. He avoided his uncle in every way he could. But he would catch Arc looking at him often with hatred in his eyes. The look soured Edge’s stomach and made him doubly glad that he had so easily dodged a bullet when the little beast turned him down as apprentice. He felt bad for the boy, though, and kept his ears and eyes open.

Another thing that disturbed Edge was the gaze Arc used when looking at Jody. Much the same as the one he used with Edge, when she was not looking the Ox Master changed his aspect entirely whenever Jody and he were in close proximity. He clearly had an animosity about the young girl but acted much like a man shopping for a new wife whenever she was close. Even though Jody found the man offensive, he wheedled his way into her presence and made an effort to charm her as often as he could. Strangely the family that offered Jody care in exchange for her labor during the trip seemed unconcerned and made no effort to protect her. Edge wondered if they were jeopardizing their own daughter, Cherry, by welcoming the ill-tempered man into their camp.

Occam and Muffy enjoyed the atmosphere of the evening camp and often would set some three-cornered stools out on the sunset side of the circle to watch the sun go down. They had their system so that camp chores could be done quickly and efficiently and they had time to enjoy what was left of the day. They and the Vintner and his wife would often smoke a bowl of good weed as they told stories and traded gossip. Once in a great while the Vintner would tap his stores and offer a taste of something alcoholic. On the seventh day of each week, the wives would make Dutch oven meals immediately on stopping for the evening. By the time they were done, there would be other adults gathering and a pot luck would develop. Muffy never had to worry about leftovers. She always carried an empty pot home.

The wagon train had few rules, and those were holdovers from the community of their origin. Some of the things considered good manners in town became set in iron on the trail. The one most obvious in the aftermath of the brief disappearance of Cherry and the Vintner’s apprentice was that everyone made sure to tell people if they were going anywhere outside the view of the group. Even a quick trip to relieve the bowels was reason for informing those in camp, and if anyone was considered overdue, they were checked on.

Politics within the group was discussed in a more abstract way since the train had their own priorities. The two communities, Roseburg and Reno, had their own laws, and they varied somewhat. As one group had no intent to change anything within the other, the discussions were enjoyable and a learning experience.

Roseburg was set up as a hereditary system, more or less feudal in practice with several levels of class, and they varied in this way with the loose democracy in Reno.

The desert community voted for mayors in each of the towns living along the Sierra with no central person in charge over all of them. Each group was an individual society unto itself and beholden to no other. Occasionally some common concern would call for a meeting of the mayors, but numbers never determined the power in the votes. In fact, one of the smaller towns held sway lately due to the intellect and oratory of their elected official. The similarities between laws and mores along the foothills were due to the exchange of people within the area as they married and moved within the loose federation.

One of the reasons the Reno system was working so well was that soon after the plagues, two young women and an old man combined in an effort to leave a written record for their posterity. Jody and Cy were descended from all three writers, and the combination provided the frizz in their hair and the gold in their eyes. The small book they wrote spoke of the reasons the world was not working before the great die-off. The text explained in succinct terms the societal mores, economics, and politics of the day, and they were defined and discussed. In the end paragraphs the issue of population was brought up and the import of never allowing human numbers getting to the point of overwhelming resources. Protecting the earth as a priority was also firmly promoted. Because of the commonality in thinking this book encouraged, the people understood that power should be divided between the people and their leaders and that neither should have entire control. They also discouraged the idea that any majority should hold sway over the rest.

The Renoites were proud of their independence and the success in how their society was developing. They sent their children to schools in order to promote the expansion of learning but also to encourage their questions. Of the Reno wagons, three kept small libraries with books printed in Carson City. A few were books scavenged from libraries and reprinted, those having been written more than two hundred years ago. Mark Twain and Edgar Rice Burroughs were particularly represented. Of the three wagons, all carried the books as trade goods. They also had copies of the book written by the three survivors who had settled in post-plague Carson City. Offered to the Sullivanites, many copies were accepted.

The one issue of contention between the companies was marriage and by extension population. While the people from Reno made every effort to define procreation as a need to be careful in what man could once again bring about by breeding, the pacific coast people saw numbers of progeny as a right, an obligation to polygamy, and a way to establish power for their society.

Of course, the way polygamy was being practiced since Cord Sullivan came to power over a hundred eighty years ago had made a huge difference in how it was perceived. While there were many systems for institutionalizing marriage, the type of polygamy that was used as a way to maintain power through loyalty was also prone to encourage hordes of offspring.

The people from Reno practiced monogamy as a norm. The men from Roseburg had only one of multiple wives traveling with them. As this caravan was funded by money and power, those filling the wagons and hired by the Company were the upper crust in the Trade Guilds. There was not one of the Masters who did not have two to four wives. The Council of Elders averaged double that. And the hereditary Heir, picked from within the Council and living by the taxes levied against businesses and the population, could have as many as he wished. Of course many of the Heir’s wives were widows, and the practice was seen as politically expedient, providing for the less fortunate. Each step up in class presented more opportunity to have children and future power.

So the two communities had many interesting conversations on the trail, and the only one that seemed to rankle between them was the issue of polygamy and the numbers of children produced. They saw the issue entirely differently, one as limiting birth in order to protect mankind from another terrible future and the other as a justified strategy to increase power and maintain position.

The Master Smith, Occam Stone, had four wives. Within his family, he proposed to his first wife the idea of a second, asking her favor. She agreed, knowing the girl who would be added to the family and approving. When it was time for a third, he approached both of the former wives and asked their consent. His was a house in harmony, and his seventeen children lived happily in the bosom of a loving relationship.

The boys in the family proved their worthiness as they rose or fell by their own achievement. Those who impressed the powerful were allowed to apprentice, and if their term was successfully completed, they were allowed to marry. Occam had three of his eleven sons in apprenticeship.

Girls had few options. They were raised to be married at sixteen. Usually they would have a child in their first two years and others averaging every four years after that. Were the present fertility as healthy as before the turn of the twentieth century, the birth rate would have been greater. It was improving as barren women were weeded out. The big Smithy’s female children had produced eight grandchildren already.

There were dysfunctional families in Sullivan Territory. Arc had four wives as well. He had twenty two children, and he knew they were not all his own. By his being on the road as an ox man, his wives had opportunity to wander, and he certainly did not instill loyalty in them. The small man really cared little. As long as they were loyal whenever he was in town and caused him no embarrassment, Arc tolerated infidelities he had no control over. Besides, any children, any at all, would be good for his future retirement, in fact, maybe more so because of their true parentage. Those men genetically linked to his family must surely understand he was raising their children. Eventually he was sure that would pay off. Arc had an eye to bigger things.

Thinking Masters were limited to four wives, Arc’s interest in Jody was strange to Edge. He asked Occam about it.

“Any man can take as many wives as he can support or will have him.” The big man’s eyes twinkled as he studied the young apprentice’s interest.

“How is that, sir?” Surprised by the answer, Edge had seen only one man in the Trades with five and did not know the story.

“A man is allowed only four from within the Territory and those from good family. If he consider a fifth, she must be an outsider.”

“So the Master Arc can bring home a wife from Reno? It is his option?” The forehead of the young man puckered.

“Aye, my boy, he can that. The practice be more common in the drayage Trades. They have more opportunity than others, as they are on the road more often. In fact, the man you know at home, the man with five, you well know to be in drayage.”

Edge looked thoughtful. He considered the information and remembered men had often chided his father for not taking more wives. Edge always considered it a jest, but there was meat on this bone. Now he understood why his father had advised him against fraternizing with foreign girls. He had felt the practice of going outside the community for wives to be questionable, perhaps because it led to greater expense as Edge had originally thought, but now he felt there was a deeper thought process going on as well. He wondered if his father was uncomfortable with the idea of the added power men could get through an extra wife.