Into the Badlands (11 page)

The balding man screamed, grabbing his shoulder. A considerable spray of buckshot had penetrated his skin. He held onto his gun and attempted to raise it to fire. Dave felt himself run toward the man, tackling him to the ground before the thief could squeeze off a shot. It wasn't until later he realized he'd been screaming the whole time.

He landed on top of the balding thief and felt a hot pain as the the man punched him in the kidneys. Dave straddled the man's chest and brought the butt of the shotgun squarely down on his nose. It exploded in a fine, red mist, then streams of dark, red blood ran from the nostrils.

He brought the butt of the gun down once more, shattering the thief's eye socket. The man’s eyes were wide with fear as he watched the butt of the shotgun rise once more.

Another blow and the man went limp. He never moved again.

Dave lost count of how many times he smashed the butt of the shotgun down on to the man’s face. When he finally stopped the man's face was unrecognizable. It was a mess of tissue, blood, hair, and bone. The thief's eyes – both filled with pools of bright red blood - remained open, staring into the sky.

Dave dropped the shotgun, then turned to find Sandy. As if still in a dream he crawled to her. When he reached her he saw she was holding a gaping wound in her neck. Blood poured through her fingers as she struggled to breathe. Hot tears formed in Dave's eyes as he watched his wife fight a losing battle for her life.

Her eyes were wide, but unfocused. It was as if she didn't see him at all. He consoled her as best he could, holding her head and rocking her gently. Only once did her eyes meet his, and in this instant they shared all they could.

Her eyes lost focus again and then she made her last attempt to draw a breath. He heard a sickening sucking sound as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. She exhaled, then her body relaxed. Her hand fell away from her neck, revealing a hole so large that Dave visibly winced. She was dead.

He placed his forehead on Sandy’s; then he wept. He thought he might never stop.

Jim had died instantly, or as near to instantly as Dave could figure. He was in such a fog he could barely think. The rational part of his mind, barely noticeable at this point, stopped functioning. He was numb all over, physically and emotionally. The blood he was covered in was drying, hardening on his face and hands.

The blood of his dead wife; it felt like a mask on his face.

Dave sat motionless on the ground for what he thought might have been a very long time. Time was passing slowly for him; each moment felt like an eternity. He sat between the bodies of his wife and his friend, staring dispassionately at the ground. His legs eventually went numb, and his fingers and toes began to freeze. A distant part of his brain considered he might have frostbite. That hardly mattered anymore.

Eventually he stood up, or tried to at least. His legs were like jelly from having been folded under himself for so long. He fell. It felt as if thousands of needles were stabbing his legs all over. He lay still until the pain subsided, staring up at the sky, Eventually he felt confident he could stand. He never cried out, despite the pain; it didn’t seem worth it. He was too numb to care.

Earlier he’d been frustrated with Sandy. Forgetting to lock the door, her timid and moody nature, her inability to take care of herself. Her depression she’d never asked for. Now he wished for it all back again. He would have taken care of her forever. If he could only have his wife again...his heart ached with sadness and regret.

Finally he was able to stand. He looked at the body of his wife. He'd wanted so much for her to be happy again. This fucked up, terrible world had finally killed her, and he hadn’t been able to protect her at all.

He dropped his backpack to the ground and began to walk, leaving behind his wife and his only friend. Their bodies were mingled with all the possessions they’d carried. Dave carried nothing now. He felt nothing. He needed nothing.

Now he too was the walking dead.

* * *

Dave stood up.

Brenda pulled the gun from her front pocket. “Hold it now, hoss. Stay right where you are.”

He looked over at Tammy. She was sleeping by the fire. He then looked back at Brenda. In the light of the fire she could see recognition in his eyes. Instantly she knew what was happening. Tammy’s eyes opened and she looked over at Brenda. She sat up, staring at Dave.

Dave opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. His breathing became more rapid and his heartbeat increased. It was coming back now, all of it, all at once. He dropped to his knees beside the fire, his hands still bound, a spate of emotion pouring over him. He felt like he was drowning.

“Oh God,” he said, shaking his head. A tear ran from the corner of his eye.

“It was all my fault.”

CHAPTER 11

The girl pointed the gun at Ed, shivering as the fever raged within her body. Her eyes were opened wide and her mouth was pursed. She was scared, and that scared Ed even more.

“What the hell are you trying to put down me?” she yelled.

Ed kept both hands visible He spoke calmly and slowly in an effort to keep the girl calm. “My name is Ed, and what I just gave you was medicine. You’ve got a fever, it’s an antibiotic.”

This explanation appeared to have no effect on the girl. “The hell it is. You know what, asshole? The last time somebody crammed a pill down my throat they raped me for days. What makes you think I’d ever let that happen again?”

She thrust the gun toward him, then broke into a violent coughing fit. Ed stepped closer, thinking he might be able to wrangle the gun away, but she recovered quickly and raised it again.

“Stay where you are, prick,” she ordered. “You take another step toward me and I’ll put a hole in your head.”

Ed backed up, raising his hands higher in the air. “Okay,” he said.

“Daddy, what’s going on in there?” Zach called from the hallway. Ed could hear the concern in his voice.

“It’s okay buddy, just stay where you are,” Ed replied as calmly as he could.

“Why is she yelling?” Jeremy asked from the hallway. “Is she okay?”

The expression on the girl’s face changed from fear to curiosity. “Who the hell is that out there?”

“Those are my sons,” he informed her. His heart was racing as he struggled to maintain a calm exterior. He didn’t wants to spook the girl. Her mental state seemed erratic, provoking it could be lethal.

"Those are your kids?" she asked. Ed thought he saw her firm grip on the pistol relax just a little. The curiosity on her face now seemed to outweigh the fear. She looked more confused than frightened now.

“I have two sons,” he explained. He wanted to keep the conversation personal; he needed to convince her that he was a person she didn’t want to shoot. “Zach is ten, Jeremy is eight. We found you unconscious inside a Target store, about a mile away from here. We carried you here, then we got you medicine.”

The girl’s eyes fluttered, then she closed them for a moment. Ed waited, then spoke again. “Nobody here is going to hurt you,” he continued.

The girl lowered the gun, then raised it again. Her curiosity seemed to be replaced with exasperation now. “I can’t believe anybody anymore.” Her voice cracking. She looked into Ed's eyes, and he thought he could see her indecision clearly now. She needed a reason to believe, and she needed it soon.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” she asked, the confidence and anger now all but gone from her voice.

“You don’t.” Ed paused, then swallowed. “You can’t know that with any certainty.” He hoped that had been the right thing to say. “Look, I’m going to level with you. I’ve got two boys out there who need me. You’ve got a gun pointed at me, and that is making me very nervous. I need you to put that gun down so we can talk. I don’t care if you keep it, just don’t point it at me. I’ll show you the pills I’m giving you, and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened so far, but I can’t do it calmly with that gun in your hand.”

“Daddy, are you okay?” Jeremy called from the hallway. Ed knew his boys and he could tell they were getting more and more concerned. The last thing he needed was them breaking into the room and Zach pulling his gun. That would escalate things way too quickly.

“Everything’s just fine. I’m in here talking with...” He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “What’s your name?”

She answered cautiously. “Trish.”

“Trish,” he finished. “Our new friend is Trish. Say hi, guys.”

Both boys reported from the hallway. “Hi Trish,” they both called, but Ed could still hear a hint of fear in their voices. They were following his directions to the letter though, just as he’d taught them to do.

Ed turned to Trish and their eyes met. He looked at her as earnestly as he could, hoping that he could express without words that his intentions were not malicious. She stared back, the gun still raised and pointed at him. She lowered it once, then raised it again. She then lowered it once more and then lay back slowly on the bed. She curled her body into the fetal position then released the pistol, allowing it to rest on the bed. She then closed her eyes and said nothing.

Ed stood there for a moment, waiting to see where things went. After a few more moments he walked slowly over to the bed and retrieved his gun.

“Where am I, Ed?” Trish asked, her eyes still closed. She remained curled up in the bed.

“You’re in a farmhouse, just off the highway. You’ve been here for about a day and a half.”

She nodded, but her eyes remained closed.

He now had the gun so he no longer felt she was a threat. His heart rate was resuming its normal pace. It was now safe enough to bring the boys in. “You want to meet the boys?”

“If you’re going to kill me just do it. I can’t go through what I went through again.”

“Nobody here is going to kill you. We just want you to get better.”

Ed called the boys in, guiding them to the side of the bed. They tromped into the room then stood looking at her. Her eyes opened and she looked at them. Ed thought he saw the slightest smile appear on her lips.

“We got you medicine,” Zach said. He appeared to be beaming with pride with that announcement.

Jeremy nodded in agreement. His eyes were wide with excitement. “Did you take your pill yet? he asked her.

Her eyes moved toward him. “No.”

“You should take it now then,” he advised her, as if prescribing medicine was a common thing for him. Trish smiled.

Ed spoke up. “Trish accidentally spit it out when I gave it to her. Help me find it, guys.” They complied, searching near the nightstands, the bed, and the floor. Finally Zach located the pill near the edge of the bed. He reached down, picked it up, then brushed it off and handed it to Trish. “Take this. Dad says it’ll make you feel better.”

She took the pill from him. “Thank you.”

Ed pointed to the box on the table beside the bed. “You ever heard of something called a Z-pak?” he asked. Trish didn’t reply. “Well, it’s an antibiotic. You take it for five days. I’m hoping it’ll knock out whatever’s causing this fever and sickness.” He picked up the box and showed it to her. She examined it briefly then closed her eyes again. Ed thought she might be falling asleep.

“You need to take these two pills now,” Ed told her. “The sooner, the better.”

Trish looked at him, then she looked at the two boys. “Help me then.”

Ed lifted her head up as Zach filled the glass up with water from the pitcher. Ed helped her swallow both pills, then gently placed her head back on the pillow.

“You need to sleep now,” he said. “That’s very important. We’ll be across the hall if you need us.”

Trish nodded.

Ed patted both boys on the back. “Let’s go guys. Trish needs to rest.”

Jeremy reached out and touched Trish’s shoulder. “I hope you get better soon,” he told her.

Trish smiled; this time it was unmistakable. Ed smiled too; the boys had that kind of effect on people. They all walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway. The light was fading fast. They headed downstairs to make sure all the doors were still locked. They then took up residence in the room adjacent to Trish’s room, each taking turns on guard duty while the others slept.

Trish made it through the night. Ed checked on her the following morning while she was sleeping. She seemed a bit restless, but she was sleeping, and that was important. He helped her drink some water, then helped her up to use the toilet. It was easier to just use the bathtub for that, actually. Now that she was drinking water again the necessity to use the restroom was returning.

The first day he changed her out of the clothing they’d found her in and into some pajamas he’d found in a drawer in the bedroom. He assumed they were more comfortable than what she’d been wearing, and it was easier to get pajamas out of the way when nature called.

She didn’t say much that day so Ed kept the boys out of her way. He knew she needed the rest; it was essential to her recovery. The boys played in the bedroom most of the time. He offered her some food, but she refused, saying she wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t surprised; she still felt hot with fever.

He gave her another pill that evening, along with more water. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn she didn’t feel quite so hot by the end of the day. Ed and the boys remained in the same adjacent room, each once again taking turns on guard duty while the others slept.

The next two days followed in a similar fashion. Trish slept most of the day, getting up periodically to pee in the tub. She was gradually drinking more water, and on the third day Ed and the boys had to go back down to the pump and get more.

They ate their rations like usual, consuming the bounty they’d picked up at the prior highway exit as well as what they already carried with them. Each day Trish refused any food offered; her appetite was still suppressed. She took the antibiotic obediently enough, and that was what Ed was most concerned with.

On the fourth day Trish seemed remarkably better. When Ed checked on her in the morning her eyes were open. He thought for a moment he’d seen the tiniest smile flash across her face when he walked in. He sat across from her in a chair he’d brought up from the kitchen. She finally accepted some of the beef jerky he offered her, chasing that with the water they’d drawn from the pump out back. She took a bite of the jerky, then looked up at Ed. Her eyes were no longer laden with dark circles as they had been when he and the boys found her. “How long have I been out?” she asked.

“Off and on, about three days.”

“I feel better. Not great, but better.”

“Good. Your fever seems to be down now too. The coughing isn’t as bad either.”

Trish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them, looked around the room, then focused them back on Ed’s. They were sincere and honest, looking into him rather than at him. “So you’re one of the good guys, huh?”

Ed paused. His conscience reminded him that his first reaction was to leave her where they’d found here. He felt guilty about that now, but ultimately he had opted to bring her back to the farmhouse. Or, more accurately, the boys had.

“I suppose.”

“Well, you saved my life. Sounds like a good guy kind of thing to do.”

“I guess you could say that,” he replied, smiling.

She continued to gaze into his eyes. He felt a bit uncomfortable, almost wanting to pull away. The strength of that stare wouldn’t allow it though.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it.”

She continued looking at him. She then reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing it with what strength she could muster. “Seriously. Thank you.”

He felt his face flush hot. He knew it must be red. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

Trish continued. “Tim told me there were people like you still left, but I didn’t believe it. I guess I was wrong.”

“Tim?” Ed asked.

“I’ll tell you about him sometime, once I feel better.”

Ed nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Where are the boys?” she asked.

“In the other room, playing.”

“Would it be okay if I saw them?”

“Sure. Don’t see why not.” He called for the boys and they came clamoring into the room.

“I’m sorry, I forgot their names.” She looked at him apologetically.

“It’s okay. You weren’t feeling well. I wouldn’t expect you to remember.” He pointed to the boys in order. “This is Zach, and this is Jeremy.”

“Hi there,” she said to them. She shot them both a smile.

“Hi, Trish,” Jeremy answered, obviously pleased with her improved condition.

“Are you feeling better?” Zach asked.

Trish nodded. “I am,” she told him.

“Good,” he said.

Jeremy turned to his father, the look of elation never leaving his face. “Looks like the medicine worked, Daddy. Just like you said.”

Ed smiled. “Looks like it did just that, buddy.”

Jeremy then turned to Trish. “We walked to a drugstore and then we found the medicine there. We had to run from a lot of carriers though; they were everywhere. We hid in a house until they all left. We found a gun there too, see?” He held up his gun to show her.

“Keep that thing pointed to the floor, bud,” Ed reminded him.

“I will, Daddy,” he replied, less exuberantly than before.

“You guys really took some risks for me, huh?” Trish asked.

“We wanted you to get better,” Zach told her.

“Well, I appreciate it so much, both of you.”

Ed cut in. “Okay guys, let’s let Trish get some rest. She’s getting better, but she’s still got a ways to go. You guys go back to the room and play now.”

“Can we stay a little longer?” Jeremy pleaded.

“Later. For now Trish needs to rest.”

“Okay,” both boys replied, almost in unison. They walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.