Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands (9 page)

As they looped around the back of the run-down farmhouse, he spied in the backyard a well with a pump.
Bingo
, he thought. He could almost taste the cool, crisp well-water rushing down his throat. The apparatus appeared to be in decent condition—well, not rusted at least—so it seemed possible it might actually refill their canteens with bacteria-free water.

Lester stopped and pointed. “We should refill the canteens, don’t you think?”

Chloe took a long look at the contraption. “Think it still works?”

“It has a handle, so it doesn’t need electricity. I’d say it’s possible.” Lester replied. “Worth a shot, eh?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Lester, do you know how it works?”

Lester had, in fact, used a pump very similar to this one. As a child in summer camp he’d taken his turn pumping out clean water for the group. He’d also tortured and mutilated two baby rabbits that summer. All ended up being useful skills.

“I think so,” Lester replied. “Been a while since I used one of these, but I’ll give it a try.”

Sam and Chloe lowered their supplies to the ground, stretching tired muscles. Lester took two steps toward the pump before he heard the unmistakable sound of a shell being racked into a shotgun’s chamber.

“You can just freeze your ass right there,” a gruff, female voice barked. “Maybe you can tell me exactly what you merry bunch of assholes plan to do with my well.”

“Where are the children?” Enoch asked.

One of the men with Enoch pointed. “In the far cell.”

Ed’s insides went cold. “No,” he said. “No, no, no.”

Ed’s voice caught Enoch’s attention. The cult leader made his way slowly toward the chain link fencing. He stopped and stared at Ed. “You are their guardian, I assume?”

“I’m their father,” Ed replied, his mouth dry.

Enoch nodded. “I see. You’ve cared for them well. A father should care for his children, don’t you agree?”

Ed didn’t reply.

Enoch continued, unabated. “Abraham cared for his son as well. This was his duty and it was good.” He paused, meeting Ed’s eyes. “But at times, God calls for a sacrifice. When He does then He must not be denied.”

“What? Sacrifice? What the hell are you talking about?” Ed said.

Enoch gave Ed a look that almost resembled pity. “I understand such things can be hard for a father to accept. Abraham struggled as well. And yet when the time came to serve God’s will, Abraham complied. His duty as a son to Jehovah the father was more important than his own duty as a father.”

Ed’s stomach twisted into knots. The entire room went silent. The smell of mildew was overpowering. He thought he might vomit.

“You must understand that we do not enjoy this duty, but a duty it is,” Enoch continued. “Our God is just and good, no doubt, but to serve is to fear. To serve is to do what He asks and question not his motives. Our God keeps us safe and we do his bidding, as good children should.” Enoch called out to the other cell. “Are you ready to do your God’s bidding, children?”

Ed felt his self-control dissipate. “Don’t you lay a fucking hand on them!” he screamed, tearing at the fence. The second man with Enoch produced a rifle from beneath his robes, aiming at the occupants of the cell.

“No need for profanity. I understand your sense of loss, but know that God has plans for your son that you as a mortal could never comprehend.”

Ed shook the fencing, wrenching it back and forth as if to tear it free from its fastenings. “Leave them alone!” he screamed.

Enoch turned to his left-hand guard. “Prepare the younger boy.”

The man nodded, removing a set of keys from a pocket sewn within his white robe. He walked to the adjoining cell, disappearing behind the separating wall. Ed could hear Jeremy struggle as the man subdued him.

“Jeremy! No!” Ed screamed.

Moments later the man reappeared, holding Jeremy tightly. The boy kicked and struggled, but the guard’s grip proved too strong. Screaming incoherently, Ed backed up a half-dozen steps and sprinted toward the chain link. Leaning shoulder-in he struck the fencing. It held tight, reversing his momentum and sending him flying back into his own cell and onto the floor. Shaking off the impact, Ed got to his feet and made another attempt to force the fence free of its attachments. His second attempt proved no better.

“Make the offering at dusk,” Enoch told the guard.

The man nodded in return. “Yes, brother Enoch. As our God instructs.”

Crying hot tears, Ed sank to his knees, still clutching the fence. “No…” he mumbled. “Don’t take him. Don’t take my boy away.” Trish knelt beside him, taking his head in her hands.

Enoch turned, his robe swirling behind him like a twisting fog. The guards followed, dragging a screaming Jeremy through the door. The door slammed, muffling the boy’s voice.

Ed collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Helpless, the others simply looked on.

* * *

The minutes passed like hours as Ed sat on the filthy floor of the makeshift prison, his back against the dividing wall. Trish sat beside him, holding his hand.

“What are they going to do to him?” Zach asked from the other side of the wall.

Ed desperately wished he could see his older son, to hold him. But he had no answer to the question. “I don’t know,” he replied.

But he did know. He knew very well what they were going to do to Jeremy. He’d never see his son again.

Eventually they’d come for Zach as well.

Jasper paced back and forth in the cell, running his hand through his hair. “There’s gotta be something we can do. We have to think of something. Anything.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Tina said, her dirty face streaked with new tears. “We’re helpless.”

“I don’t accept that,” Jasper replied. “I don’t accept that at all. That’s no kind of thinking.”

“Not accepting it won’t change it,” Tina said.

“Speak for yourself, lady,” Jasper said, still pacing hard. He stopped and looked around the cell at the others. “Are you all just going to sit there and do nothing?”

“What can we do?” Jimmy asked.

“Something. Anything.”

“We don’t have any guns. No knives. Nothing,” Jimmy said. “We’re fucked. Just accept it.”

“I don’t accept that,” Jasper repeated. He began pacing again. “Think. We need to think.”

“They shoot them first,” Tina said from the corner, her voice low and meek. “That’s what they did with my little Danielle.”

Everyone stopped and stared at Tina, waiting for her to continue.

“Tina, you don’t have to—” Jimmy began.

“They throw them to the carriers after they shoot them,” Tina said.

“How do you know this?” Jasper asked.

“I saw it. They wanted me to watch.”

Silence ensued as the group contemplated Tina’s story.

Terry Wilkinson stood. “I’m with Jasper,” he said, shattering the silence. “We need to fucking to do something.”

“What exactly do you propose we do?” another man said from the corner. He was dark and thin, filthy sweatpants draping off of his legs like rags on sticks.

Terry thought for a moment. “We bum-rush those guards.”

“You mean the ones with the guns?” Jimmy said. “The guards that’ll just shoot us all first?”

“No, Terry’s right,” Jasper said. “They won’t shoot us, not all of us and not all at once. They want to sacrifice us.”

“Explain,” Jimmy said.

“I think that gives us a little leeway,” Jasper said.

“Do you have some kind of plan?” Trish asked.

Jasper paused, considering. “We need to get them to unlock the door.”

“Fat chance of that,” Jimmy said.

“We need to give them a reason.”

“Like what?” Terry asked.

Jasper thought. “I can pretend I’m sick. Injured. Screaming in pain. With any luck they’ll send a guard or two in. We wait until he opens the cell and then we bum rush them.”

“They’ll tear us up,” Jimmy said.

“Possibly. Maybe even likely. But they can’t get all of us, not if we’re fast enough. It’s at least a shot. Otherwise, we’re all dead. We just don’t know it yet.”

“I like that idea,” Terry said. He glanced around the room. “Who’s on board?”

Hands rose from most within the cell. A few did not.

“I don’t like this idea,” a woman said from the end of the cell. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Too fucking bad,” Terry replied. “Everybody with your hands down, we’ll be sure to leave your asses here.” Terry glanced at Ed. “We might be able to save your boy, too.”

Ed nodded. “I’m on board.”

“Let me talk to them,” a voice said from behind the dividing wall. Everyone paused.

Terry frowned. “Fucking Alice,” he grumbled. “We don’t need your help!” he yelled, his voice rolling throughout the structure. “I think you’ve done just about enough, don’t you?”

 
“I think I can reason with them,” Alice replied. “Talk them out of it.”

“Lady, you can’t reason with people like this,” Terry replied. “Do us a favor…don’t do us any more favors.”

“Your plan will never work,” Alice said. “You’re all a bunch of fools. I’ll let you them know what you’re doing.”

“Goddamn bitch,” Terry said under his breath. He turned to Jasper. “If you’re gonna do this, you better get it done.”

Jasper nodded. He got down on the floor, clutched his stomach and began screaming.

Terry joined in. “Help!” he called out. “Somebody help!”

A moment later a single, muffled shot rang out from somewhere on the grounds. The cell went silent.

“Ed,” Jasper said, sitting up. He said nothing else. He didn’t have to.

Grief and despair washed over Ed like a suffocating blanket. He could barely think.

“Dad?” Zach asked from the other cell. “Dad?”

Ed couldn’t reply. His entire body had gone numb.

My son is dead
, rang through his head like a haunting dirge.

Over and over again it repeated.

My son is dead.

My son is dead.

My son is dead.

“Hands in the air,” the woman in the farmhouse said. She pointed the shotgun at Sam and Chloe. “All of ya.”

Sam and Chloe glanced at each other before raising their hands.

“Nice and slow,” the woman said.

“We’re just passing through,” Lester said. He put his hands up. “I’m Lester and this is Chloe and Sam.”

The woman with the shotgun regarded them through narrowed eyes. “Passing through, eh?”

“Yes,” Chloe said. “We were just going to refill our canteens. We didn’t know anybody lived here.”

“Likely story,” the woman replied. She cocked her head to the side and squinted. “How old are you, girl?”

“Almost fourteen.”

The woman nodded at Sam. “What about you?”

“Almost thirteen,” Sam replied.

“Look, ma’am, we’ll just get going and leave you alone,” Lester said. “We’re sorry for the intrusion. Honestly.”

“You ain’t going anywhere just yet,” the woman replied.

“Okay,” Lester said. “Sure.” He paused. “May I ask your name?”

The woman glared at him, considering. For a moment it appeared she wouldn’t reply at all. Then she finally spoke. “Rita.”

“Rita, you seem like a reasonable person—”

Rita laughed, a harsh cackle that pierced the relative silence of the unkempt field. “What makes you think that? I’m the one with the shotgun pointed at you. That don’t seem too reasonable to me.”

“Benefit of the doubt,” Lester replied.

“What are you doing out with these two kids, Lester?” Rita asked. “You their kin?”

“We happened upon each other a ways back,” Lester replied. “Just traveling together for some company.”

Rita looked at Chloe. “That true, girl? If he’s some kinda creep making you do things you don’t want to do now’s the time to tell me.”

“It’s true,” Chloe said. “Sam and I met him earlier today.”

Rita gave Chloe a quizzical look. “It’s just that I seen a lot of young and pretty girls like you get caught up with creeps old enough to be their dad.” She frowned, hard. “I got the gun this time. You need me to help, you speak now.”

Chloe shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Rita paused, still considering.

“She’s with me,” Sam blurted out. He pushed his chest out slightly, assuming a taller pose.

Chloe glanced back at Sam, a slight smile on her face.

“You brother and sister?” Rita asked.

“No. She’s my girlfriend,” Sam said, blushing.

Rita returned a slight grin. “Where are your parents then?” Rita asked.

“Dead,” Sam said. Chloe nodded in agreement.

Rita slowly lowered the shotgun. “I don’t get too many folks through here these days. Carriers are mostly gone now and not too many survivors left.” She paused. “You can put your hands down. Just no sudden movements, got it?”

“We do,” Lester said, lowering his hands.

“Come on in for a bit,” Rita said. “Got some deer jerky and tea on hand. I love ‘em both.”

“That’s okay, ma’am,” Lester said. “We wouldn’t want to put you out. We’ll just be on our way, if you don’t mind.”

Rita raised the shotgun slightly. “I insist.”

Lester smiled. “Well, if you insist.” He turned to Sam and Chloe. “We wouldn’t want to pass up a new friend’s hospitality.”

Rita smiled. “Then come on in,” she said, motioning toward the open door of the farmhouse. “I’ll get the water for the tea going.”

* * *

Rita sat in a worn rocking chair inside the farmhouse’s living room, the shotgun placed in front of her upon the armrests. The house was small and had probably been quaint at one point. Now reused boards covered the windows, attached to the walls with a combination of large nails and rusty screws. The boarded up windows allowed in almost no light, so Rita had a candle burning in order to see.

A slight hint of mildew hung in the air, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and old whiskey.

“How’s the tea?” Rita asked.

“It’s good,” Lester replied.

“You don’t have to suck up,” Rita said. She stood, placing the shotgun in the corner of the room. “I ain’t gonna shoot you, so long as you don’t shoot me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Lester said.

“Tea’s old, I know,” Rita continued. “But about the best you’re gonna find these days.”