Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands (3 page)

Dave took a deep breath and faced the group. “See you on the other side,” he said before walking away.

Ed watched as his friend departed, slightly limping from the healing ankle broken by Calvin Summerville before fleeing the compound. As much as Ed didn’t want to admit it, he knew Trish was right.

They’d never see their friend again.

The bright morning sun cast its rays over the walls of the residence hall, basking the grounds below in a sparkling radiance that would have been beautiful were it not illuminating such a sad and desperate state of civilization below. In the days before the virus the grounds would have been teeming with young people, all living and studying together, gaining skills and wisdom to last them their entire lives, lives they could reasonably expect to last decades.

Now the sun’s blazing rays revealed an entirely different scene within the confines of the residence hall’s high walls. Dozens of ragged survivors hurried about in the summer heat carrying rifles, food, clothing and treated gasoline. Three distinct groups worked to box up and distribute the weapons and supplies. The largest group filled the two trucks headed to California. They’d need the most supplies. For them California beckoned with an intercepted broadcast, promising a safe haven, free of the deadly virus and its just as deadly victims.

The second group took most of the remaining supplies. For them Canada promised cold and hinted at a respite from the teeming hordes of the infected.

Both groups left a small share for the group electing to stay behind. The third group hadn’t been happy about being left with so little, but as outnumbered as they were their arguments fell on deaf ears.

By noon the trucks had been packed half-full. Evening found the trucks fully-stocked and gassed up, ready to roll out the following morning. A small celebration sprang up as night fell, complete with several bottles of whiskey, a large fire and an acoustic guitar retrieved from one of the derelict dorm rooms.

Ed Brady sat near the fire, accompanied by his sons, Zach and Jeremy. As the boys stoked the fire, Ed watched the exchange between the celebrating survivors, remarking on how well they seemed to get along. Ed didn’t particularly like crowds. After traveling for two years alone with his sons, he’d never planned on having any company.

Then they stumbled upon Trish Connor and everything changed.

Before he knew it, his group more than doubled in size. He found himself not only responsible for his own children, but for the welfare of the entire group—and they almost didn’t survive.

Tomorrow morning he’d be traveling with more people than ever before. The idea overwhelmed him, but there really was no other option. Traveling alone with a single pistol between them and only as much food as they could carry on their backs wasn’t a viable option. Not anymore, if it ever had been. Strength lay in numbers and he had to bet on the best chance of getting Zach and Jeremy to a true safe haven. Their first attempt—St. Louis, Missouri—had only provided a year’s worth of sanctuary before dumping them back out into the wild. Kansas City ended up being a prison camp. Ed had his concerns that a safe place could even exist at all, but he had little other option left than to hope.

“Where will we sleep?” Jeremy asked, breaking Ed’s thoughts into pieces.

“In the truck,” he replied.

“Will there be enough room?” Zach asked.

“Not really. It’ll be fourteen to a truck, plus all the supplies. We’ll all be on top of each other,” Ed said.

Zach frowned. “I don’t want sleep with all those people around. Can’t we just go by ourselves? Just us and Trish?”

“And Jasper,” Jeremy added.

Zach nodded. “Definitely Jasper. I wish Dave would’ve come too.”

Though Dave had only left the prior day, it already seemed like years ago. “It doesn’t make sense for us to travel alone anymore,” Ed said. “We have a truck, fuel and supplies this way, plus guns. This trip is just way too long to take on foot.”

“What about bicycles?” Zach asked.

“Too long for bicycles too, buddy.” He paused, glancing at the crowd as they milled about, illuminated by the roaring fire in the dusky twilight of their last night in Kansas City. “Everything will be fine.”

“I’m not convinced,” Jeremy said. “I still have my doubts.”

Ed grinned, reminded just how much his youngest son had matured. Five years old when the virus broke, Jeremy would soon be celebrating his tenth birthday. And in a year his older brother would be a teenager. They’d both lost most of their childhood, along with their mother. And, if he was being honest, Ed had to admit that in many ways they’d lost their father, or at least the man Ed had once been. The virus hadn’t killed him, but it sure as hell changed him.

“I have my doubts too,” Ed said. “But it’s still our best chance. I think you both know it.”

The kids nodded and went back to stoking the fire. Ed searched the undulating crowd, eventually finding Trish engaged in a conversation with a gay couple who would be sharing the same truck as Ed and his family. They’d had the fortunate luck to survive the virus together, but the unfortunate chance to share the same first name.

Trish raised a hand and waved. The couple, Kevin and Kevin, followed suit.

Ed waved back. The Kevins seemed like good people, but who knew anything about anyone until things got rough, until things got dangerous, until a true life and death situation? Most of the folks traveling with them Ed only knew from seeing them at dinner or passing them in the hall. Anything could happen along the way and he had no real idea as to whether he could trust any of them.

Trish made her way to where Ed sat. He stood to greet her. “How come you’re over here by the fire?” she asked.

“I’m not much for crowds.”

She nodded. “Figured. I thought it’d be a good idea for me to get familiar with the people we’re going to be riding with.”

Ed smiled. “Always thinking, aren’t you?”

Trish shrugged. “I try. Unfortunately I’m about pooped for the night. We should get some rest for the big day tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” Ed turned to Zach and Jeremy. “You guys ready?”

They both nodded, tossing their sticks into the fire before getting to their feet.

“Question is, are
you
ready?” Trish asked.

Ed smiled. “I have a feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Let’s get some sleep,” Trish said. “Things will look better in the morning.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said.

They made their way through the crowd and back to the room. After everyone had fallen asleep, Ed remained awake for some time, thinking as he stared into the inky blackness of the room. Unease tugged at him hard, but he couldn’t quite pin it on any specific thing.

Eventually sleep overtook him, tugging him down into its restless and murky depths as the world moved on around him.

They awoke to bad news.

As Ed opened the door to his room, a large man with red hair and a full beard just as red passed him in the hallway.

“Did you hear?” Red Beard asked.

“Hear what?” Ed replied.

“They stole our shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The group headed to Canada. They snuck away early this morning after taking a bunch of our stuff. Food, guns, you name it. As much as they could carry.”

Ed sighed. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. We got two thirds of our supplies left, maybe less. They’re doing an inventory now to see how bad it is.”

“Are they still planning on leaving today?”

“I’m sure they are,” Red Beard said. “Low supplies or not. We’ll just have to pick through the leftovers along the way.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Well, no shit. But what other choice do we have? Ain’t no way I’m staying here though. We won’t make it through the winter.” Red Beard shook his head. “Ain’t no way we’d catch the sons of bitches. They got a two hour head start on us. If I could, I’d make ‘em pay.”

“Maybe they were afraid they didn’t have enough.”

Red Beard scowled. “Don’t give ‘em the right to steal from us.”

“Agreed. But people do crazy shit when they’re afraid.”

Red Beard nodded. “At least they closed the fucking gate behind ‘em, if nothing else.” He grumbled to himself, his attention drifting away. “Rather than leave us for the carriers to eat.”

Ed shrugged. “Well, there’s that, I suppose. Thanks for the info.”

Red Beard snapped back into attention, pulled from his revenge fantasy. “Oh, yeah. Sure. See you on the truck.”

“Which one are you on?” Ed asked.

“John.”

“Us too.”

“Well I’ll be goddamned. I’m Terry, by the way.”

Ed introduced himself.

“You’re Dave Porter’s friend, right?”

Ed nodded.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me?” Terry said, a smile lighting up his face. “Glad to finally meet you. He had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“Dave’s a good guy,” Ed said. A moment of silence passed between them. “I’ll see you on the truck then.”

“Oh, sure,” Terry replied. He shook his head. “Dirty sons of bitches,” he mumbled as he walked away.

Ed ducked back into the room.

“Who was that?” Trish asked.

“Terry.”

“Who’s Terry?”

“One of our new truck mates,” Ed replied. He recounted the story about the Canada truck and the stolen supplies.

“Maybe you were right,” Trish said. “Maybe it is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Ed shrugged. “Let’s hope I’m wrong.”

* * *

The sun peeked over the horizon as Ed Brady and his family stepped into the courtyard of the residence hall. Already folks had gathered, their meager belongings packed into shoddy suitcases, unraveling bags and—in some cases—old trash bags. They split into two groups, each filing in behind their respective truck. Ed caught a glimpse of Terry in the crowd. The red-headed man waved and Ed returned it, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about his new “friend”. Of course, he wasn’t sure how he felt about any of them.

As they filed in, the courtyard filled with the echoes of conversation. People clustered into smaller groups; couples, families and friends. After nearly twenty minutes all heads had been accounted for. A handful of people stood nearby, members of the group planning to stay behind. They watched while keeping their distance.

Ed felt uncomfortable in the large group. So many people he didn’t know. He’d seen some of them around over the past few weeks, but he knew almost none of them by name. He wondered if maybe he should have spent more time getting to know them. Maybe it would have helped him anticipate their behavior, or to know if they could be trusted. Either way, he’d find out soon enough, once they got on the road.

A whistle sounded, echoing through the courtyard. Ed turned his attention toward the sound. Alice, leader of truck number two, stood on the back of the loaded flatbed, facing the crowd. Behind her, sixteen hundred miles of unknown terrain awaited them.

“Today we embark upon a journey like none we’ve ever seen,” Alice began. “There will be challenges, for sure. It won’t be easy. But with my leadership we’ll rise to these challenges and overcome them and we’ll thrive.”

“Jesus,” Ed muttered. He’d heard many a politician vomit out the same rhetoric.

“We’ve already experienced a setback,” Alice continued, “a criminal act perpetrated by the Canada-bound crew. Well, the cowards may have stolen our supplies, but they can never steal our drive and determination.”

Ed sighed. “Who talks like this?” he whispered to Trish.

Trish grinned. “Be nice.”

Ed rolled his eyes.

“Shush,” a woman with a rough face and a noticeable lip mole barked. Clad in a faded, green army jacket, the woman’s thinning hair draped over her wide back like scraggly vines.

“Shush yourself,” Ed said, glaring.

She frowned and turned back around again.

Trish punched him in the arm. “Ed!” she said, but she was smiling.

“So thank you all,” Alice continued from the truck. “I look forward to leading you to California and safety!” she said, ending with exaggerated inflection. A few stragglers clapped with the enthusiasm of a flaccid penis.

Ed kept his hands by his side.

Ignoring (or unaware of) the tepid response, Alice handed things off to her fellow truck leader. “John has something to say as well,” she said, segueing to her counterpart with soft clapping.

“Um…yeah,” John Davies began. “I just, uh, wanted to say that I’ll do the best job I can do. There’s a lot of ground to cover out there, but we’ll make it. We just gotta work together.”

Another pause occurred and Alice took the opportunity to grab the reigns again. “Thanks for that, John,” she replied.

Ed could hear the condescension in her voice. This was going to be a very long trip.

“So without further ado, let’s get this show on the road!” Alice said, pumping a fist in the air. Ed rolled his eyes. The shushing lady in front of him turned and he caught her eye. She glared. He returned it and after a second or two she broke eye contact, slinging a heavy duffel bag over her shoulder and walking like a linebacker toward the waiting truck.

John’s truck.

“Goddammit,” Ed muttered, sighing.

“What?” Trish asked. She followed Ed’s gaze, noticing the green army jacket. “Oh. Bummer.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ed said.

“It’ll be fine,” Trish said, reassuring him. She grinned. “Maybe you’ll become friends.”

Ed arched his eyebrows. “Don’t hold your breath.”

All that remained of the residents of Jonathan’s refugee camp were piles of torn, bloody clothing and scattered bones. The white creatures had eaten the bodies almost entirely, gnawing the meat off the bones, leaving jagged teeth marks behind on the hard, calcified surfaces. Brown, dried blood covered the beige walls in violent spatter patterns while thick, congealing pools of the stuff collected on the floor, turning rancid as the day’s heat ratcheted up.

Chloe was glad to find no intact bodies. The bone remnants almost didn’t look human. She’d been in the camp for a few months before last night, when the tree fell and took down the fence that had been keeping them safe. She knew Jonathan well. Arkady too. All had been good people who cared about others before themselves.