Wasteland Blues (18 page)

“What?” asked Derek.

“The mutie broke his neck,” said John, hobbling away from them, going to comfort Magdalena.

***

They buried Cole that night. John and Teddy took turns digging a grave with a shovel they found in the utility closet. Then they wrapped the German shepherd in an old blanket and lowered him gently down into the desert.

“Goodbye Cole,” said Magdalena, her ruined eyes wet with tears. “You were a good dog, faithful and true. You guided me well and protected me. I’ll miss you.” She sprinkled a handful of dirt over the grave, and then wept openly.

John stood, taciturn, one arm around Magdalena’s waist. Leggy and Teddy waited in respectful silence. Then John led Magdalena away. Teddy bent to the shovel and began to fill the grave. Sheba howled mournfully as Teddy worked.

Derek watched it all from the shadow of the store, leaning up against the wall. He held his sore ribs and said nothing.

***

They spent the night inside the store, after barricading the entrance with old shelves and other junk. Without a fire to gather around, they set up their blankets and bedrolls apart from each other. Leggy didn’t like it, but he didn’t say anything. Besides, they’d had a hard day and needed rest, not chit-chat. Still, the death of the dog had driven a wedge into the group. Something should be said, but Leggy was too tired to deal with it. Not tonight. Let them sleep.

But Leggy himself found it difficult to get comfortable. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping outdoors, and he found it strange to be staring up at a cobwebbed ceiling rather than a magnificent sweep of stars. The old store felt stuffy, and the warped floor creaked and popped as the others turned in their sleep.

He thought about taking his own bedroll outside, but that would mean waking one of the boys to undo the barricade. So he settled himself in as best he could. A nip or two would help settle him, but that was moot—his flask was empty, and the last drink he’d had was some moonshine swill that Mother Morgan had dished out. Oh well.

Eventually he must’ve dozed off because he sat up with a start, his mind fuzzy and confused. He felt a sense of alarm, some instinct that had triggered him awake. He looked around the store. The others were asleep, breathing slow and easy. A patch of moonlight had crept inside the room from a high window above the counter. Leggy looked. There was a flash of movement. Had there been a pair of eyes at the window?

Fully alert now, Leggy swept the store with his gaze, listening closely. He thought for a moment it might be another mutie, but that was unlikely. Muties were solitary creatures, with a cannibalistic bent. They had no qualms about turning on one another when there was no other prey to be found. Besides, muties didn’t sneak up on you. If one were outside, they would’ve heard it trying to smash through the barrier.

That left only outlaws. He looked to where John and Magdalena and Sheba lay in a far corner. The Shepherd was asleep. Surely she would’ve scented something. Wouldn’t she?

Leggy watched the window, and then the barricaded door, but saw nothing. He watched and waited a full thirty minutes, but all seemed quiet. He thought about waking Teddy, getting him to clear the barricade so he could check the perimeter, but decided against it. It was probably nothing. He lay down again.

***

The next morning Leggy was first out the door once Teddy had heaved aside the shelves and junk that blocked them in. The old man’s bladder was full and he was heading for the side of the building to take a piss when a sight brought him up short—sitting in front of the rusting gas pumps was a boy.

He was dressed in a faded blue singlet with a makeshift turban tied incorrectly over his head. The folds of linen threatened to fall down over his bulbous head. Leggy swallowed and made no expression as he noticed the boy had six toes on each foot.

The boy was sunburned, and his narrow face gaunt. He leaned against the gas pumps like he might fall asleep. As Leggy approached, the child stirred.

“Hello,” said the boy. “My name is Samuel. Why did you bury the dog?”

“Bury the dog?” asked Leggy.

The boy studied Leggy carefully. As he did so, Leggy felt a strange warmth on his forehead, like sunlight concentrated through the lens of a magnifying glass into a hot point.

“Oh,” said Samuel. “He was killed by a mutant. That’s very sad. He seemed like a nice dog. I’ve always wanted to meet a dog. Do you think Sheba will play with me?”

The heat continued to penetrate Leggy’s skull, and suddenly he felt as if his mind were being rummaged through. It was a nauseating feeling, and his stomach quivered. In his thoughts he shouted,
“Stop that. Leave me be. Get out!”

The heat dissipated immediately.

Samuel said “I’m sorry, Mr. Nicodemus. Karen said I should never read people without their permission, but sometimes it’s the easiest way to find things out.”

Leggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. His stomach settled itself. He stared at the strange boy. “Samuel,” was all he could think to say.

The boy made no reply.

“Do you…do you live out here?” Leggy asked.

“No. I lived back in the valley, down in the bunker.” He smiled. “You called it bunker number two. Karen called it Bag End. Did you ever read
The Hobbit
?”

“Valley? Bunker? Jesus H. Christ, are you tellin’ me you lived down in the ground? Inside that place old Youslus was tryin’ to dig up?” asked Leggy.

“I don’t know who Youslus is, but somebody sure was trying to get in. I could hear them knocking, at first. And then later, I could hear the drill. It wouldn’t have worked though. They built the compound to survive a direct hit, even from bunker busters and nukes.”

“Right,” said Leggy, unsure how to respond.

“Did you know I was in stasis for eighty years? That’s what the computer said. When I was little, I used to think they said they were going to put me in Stacy. Isn’t that funny? You don’t put someone in Stacy. You put them in stasis. That means they can go to sleep for a long time.”

At that moment the door opened, and the rest of the travelers emerged onto the porch.

“Holy shit,” said Derek. “Who’s the kid?”

“Kid?” asked Magdalena in surprise.

Sheba barked.  

Samuel’s eyes went wide and a huge grin erupted on his face. “Hi dog,” he said. “C’mere Sheba. C’mere!”

Sheba, tail wagging, leapt from the porch. Samuel dropped to one knee as the dog approached. She sniffed him eagerly and began to lick his face. Samuel shrieked with delight and buried his hands in the dog’s fur.

After a long minute of licking, Samuel stood up again. “Sit,” he said.

Sheba sat.

“Shake.”

Sheba raised a paw, which Samuel took in his hand and shook.

“Good girl,” he said, releasing the paw and patting Sheba on her head. Then he looked up at the people on the stairs.

“She’s a great dog. Really great. Can I come with you to New York?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

They walked all morning but spoke very little. Derek led the way, while behind him Teddy led Minna and Afha, who carried Leggy. John and Magdalena brought up the rear, lagging behind and frequently turning to scan the highway behind them while Sheba panted and trotted alongside.

Because there had been no supplies worth looting at the GAS ‘N GO, Derek had offered to skin and filet the mutie, just in case things got really bad. Leggy laughed at him.

“You gonna eat that shit?” The old man choked. “You just see how friggin’ sick
that
don’t make you! Haw haw, you sure are a newbie, ain’t ya, Derek? First day in the Wasteland, eh son? Haw ha ha.” Leggy held himself until his giggling abated, then he remarked, “You know what they say, ‘Ya’eat one, ya’are one!’” Then he burst into a renewed fit of laughter.

“What’s so goddamned funny?” demanded Derek.

Leggy snorted again. “Well, it’s not exactly funny. It’s just that we got our asses handed to us by a single low-grade, border-waste, run-of-the-mill, half-starved, half-assed mutie. That mute didn’t got a
tenth
o’ the muster of a full-blown Wasteland mutie. ’Bout time you boys got a taste of what we’re heading into. And I’m talkin’ to you too, John.”

“That ‘run-of-the-mill’ mutie,” said Magdalena, “killed my dog.”

Leggy’s smile froze and slumped into a frown. It was late afternoon and the heat seemed to be pouring down in sheets from the hot, radioactive sky.

“Well, gee Missy, I didn’t mean it like that. He was a good dog and all, and I’m genuinely sorry for your loss. But, and I mean no disrespect, we got away lucky. I’m just saying that we’re on a dangerous road. We’ve got to be prepared is what I’m saying. All of us.”

***

The company walked on in silence—the cracked tarmac warm beneath their feet, unfolding seemingly without end before them. The mountains shrank behind them, and the flat desert stretched on endlessly ahead and to the sides. Puddles of heat shimmered in the distance.

At one point the highway came to a stop before a dry creek bed. It had once been bridged, but the bridge had tumbled to ruin. They were forced to climb down a ten foot embankment, hike through a tangle of gorse and sage, and scale the steep cement abutment back up onto the highway again. It was grueling work, especially for Minna and Afha, who would not have been able to make the climb without Teddy’s help.

The travelers were thankful that, for the most part, the interstate seemed to have survived weather, wear, and the passage of time—not to mention nuclear weapons.

***

At the end of the day the sun dipped low onto the horizon, looking to Leggy like a fiery egg breaking on the radioactive frying pan of the world. He smiled grimly at the thought. He reckoned it would be a long time before he tasted eggs again.

He turned himself on Afha and looked back at the highway in the direction from which they’d come.

Derek noticed and called, “He still followin’ us?”

“Yep.”

“Aw Hell, I was hoping he would’ve turned back by now.”

“’Nope,” Leggy said.

John cleared his throat. “Seems a pity to leave him straggling like that.”

“Pity?” said Derek. “If you really felt pity, you’d send him back to his bunker. Or put a bullet in his head. The Wasteland is no place for a kid.”

John rebuked Derek with a look. Leggy sighed.

“He must be so thirsty,” said Magdalena. “Such small legs for such hard walking.”

“Fine. Fuck it, then,” said Derek. “We’ll stop here. He can catch up and we’ll camp for the night.”

Leggy sighed again and then cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered down the highway, “All right kid. You win. You can come with us. Now hurry up, cause we got some chores for you to do. If you wanna ride with the big boys, you’re gonna earn your keep!”

***

Samuel staggered into their camp thirty minutes later. His singlet was sweat-stained and torn at one arm. “Hello,” he said. “Does this mean you’ll let me come with you?”

Derek said nothing. Leggy just rolled his eyes.

Samuel sat down next to Sheba and shrugged out of his pack. He drank deeply from a large water bottle and looked at the campfire. He thought for a moment and then said brightly “Does anyone have marshmallows?”

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Derek was already irritated by the strange child’s presence.

“Or not,” said Samuel. “I’ve never had a marshmallow before. I never ate outside before, either. The doctors didn’t like me going outdoors.”

“Hungry?” asked John, handing a tin to Samuel.

“What’s a marsh mellow?” grunted Derek.

“Thank you,” said Samuel. He gave the tin a disappointed look. “This is the same stuff we ate at Bag End.” He frowned.

They sat around the fire in uncomfortable silence, watching the boy eat. Though they all had questions for Samuel—about the bunker and what he had been doing in there, about why he wanted to go with them—they also found him disconcerting.

No one knew quite what to say to the strange boy, and no one seemed willing to ask the first question. And so, they ate in silence until, after a while, the small newcomer began to hum softly to himself, and then to sing,

***

The Road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began…

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can…

***

Derek rolled his eyes. This couldn’t possibly get more annoying.

Samuel had finished his meal. His lips and chin were stained with gravy, but he seemed not to notice. Nor did he notice the uncomfortable mixture of rapt curiosity and embarrassed tension with which the others regarded him. Only Teddy seemed truly comfortable around the boy and soon took out his flute to accompany the strange song.

***

The next morning they cleared camp and hit the road again. The day was overcast, with skeins of dark cloud obscuring the sun. Samuel walked happily alongside Teddy, his head bobbing from side to side, trying to take every detail of the blasted landscape into his wide eyes.

As the morning wore on, the air grew still and was charged with electricity. When they stopped for lunch, Leggy appraised the sky.

“Storm comin’,” said Derek.

“Yup. And it looks like it’s gonna be a rager. Too bad there ain’t shit for shelter.”

“What do we do?” asked John, looking worriedly around at the flat, featureless landscape.

“Get wet,” said Leggy.

“Don’t think I’d mind,” said Magdalena. “It’d be the nearest thing I’ve had to a bath in too many days.”

By two o’clock the sky had turned dark, and a harsh wind kicked up across the dirty, dry valley floor, throwing sand into the faces of the travelers. Sheba whined.

Samuel looked around nervously. “What’s going to happen?” he asked, his voice tight and high.

“Just a storm,” said John. “A little rain, maybe some thunder an’ lightning. Ain’t you ever been in a storm before?”

“No,” said Samuel. “They only ever took me outside twice and never in the rain.” He reached up and took Teddy’s hand.

“Well, here’s your chance,” said Leggy. He pointed to a bank of thunderheads rapidly approaching from the west, dark and swollen. The wind grew stronger, tugging at his hair and beard. “Help me off this donkey, Ted. He’s getting skittish, and I don’t want to get thrown.”

Teddy, who looked as frightened as Samuel, helped Leggy off the donkey. Derek scanned the desert and highway all around them. Not even an old car to hunker in.

A thunderclap suddenly exploded behind them. Teddy shrieked.

“Easy there, Ted,” said Leggy. “You just hold onto these reins. Don’t let our mules go runnin’ off.”

Teddy nodded. He tightened his grip on the leather straps, his lower lip trembling.

There was another clap of thunder, closer than the first, and a fork of lighting stabbed down out of the sky. White light popped in their eyeballs and illuminated the grim landscape. The dark clouds raced toward them. Now they could hear the hiss of rain. A shrill wind whipped over them.

“Here it comes,” shouted Leggy, and then it was on them.

Sheets of rain hammered the travelers, soaking them instantly. Thunder exploded over their heads. Samuel cringed against Magdalena’s leg. His cries of fear drowned in the drumline of falling water.

Another thunderclap and another stab of lighting, so near that they could smell ozone. The mules’ eyes were wide with fear. They strained against their reins, ready to bolt. Teddy held them fast, his own fear adding to his strength.

The rain fell as a solid curtain now, obscuring their vision. John groped blindly for Magdalena’s hand and clung to her as if she might get swept away by the torrent of water.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The clouds raced ahead, sweeping aside the veil of rain. The sun emerged, making them squint. The blacktop beneath their feet steamed, and they sputtered and gasped in the aftermath of torrential downpour.

“Shit,” said Derek, “I thought I was gonna drown standing up.”

Leggy laughed. “You look like you
did
drown. Hell, we all do.”

Indeed, they were bedraggled with water, dripping where they stood. John pulled off his shirt and twisted it up, and everyone cackled at the amount of water he wrung from it. Sheba shook herself vigorously, dousing the group in a fine spray of dog water and making Samuel giggle. Only the mules didn’t look amused. Their ears were back and they stamped impatiently at the road.

Leggy screwed the lids onto several plastic jugs that he had fitted with funnels. “While the rest a’ you’s were gawkin’ and trembling, old Leggy took the opportunity to replenish our water supply. In the desert, you never waste a chance to collect rainwater. That’s lesson…well, let’s start fresh and call it lesson one.” The old man winked good-naturedly.

“Well, now what?” asked Derek. “Should we make camp and dry off or keep goin’?”

“I say we keep goin’,” said Leggy. “Take a look around. Ain’t a dry place to sit, and there won’t be for awhile. Me, I’d rather dry off walkin’ than sit in a puddle.”

The valley floor was a muddy mess, and water had collected in shallow pools all along the blasted highway. So they pressed on, wringing out their clothes and hair as they walked.

They soon came to another gully. The bridge across was still intact. Lucky for them because the gully was alive with floodwater, dirty rapids that raced through the bed, too high and swift to be forded.

As they reached the other side of the bridge, Afha suddenly pulled to a halt. Teddy yanked at the reins, but the animal wouldn’t budge.

“Now what?” asked Derek.

“He don’t wanna go, Der-Der,” said Teddy.

“Give him a nudge there, Leggy,” said Derek.

Leggy prodded the beast with his stumps, but without effect.

“Aw, what the Hell,” said Derek. He grabbed the reins from Teddy and gave them a shake. “Listen, you stupid fleabag, if you don’t get a move on you’re gonna end up dog food.”

Afha brayed once, the milky cataract in his third eye swirling, but he would not be moved.

“He’s scared,” said Samuel, who was holding Teddy’s hand.

“Scared? Of what?”

“Bugs,” said Samuel.

“Course he’s scared of bugs,” Derek said. “Everybody’s scared a bugs. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“He says there’s a nest up ahead,” said Samuel. “It sounds awful.”

“He says?” asked Derek. He reached down and grabbed Samuel’s chin, forcing the boy to look into his eyes. “I’m in no mood for kiddy games.”

Samuel winced, his face pale with fear. “I’m not playing a game. I can see his thoughts.”

“You what?” asked Derek, squeezing harder.

“I can see his thoughts. Please stop, that hurts.”

“Let him go, Derek,” said John.

Derek released Samuel’s chin, but continued to hold his gaze. “Mules don’t think.”

“Yes, they do. Not like you and me. But they do have thoughts. Especially Afha.”

“And you can hear them? Boy, you’re a dirty little liar. I ought to chuck you off this bridge.”

“Wait,” said Leggy. “Maybe there’s something to this. Remember back up in the Sierras, just before we came across Magdalena? Afha pulled up short just like he is now. Wouldn’t budge. And then John got bit by a snake.”

“Holy Christ,” said Derek. “You really think this donkey and this kid are some kinda…mind readers? Tell ya what, everybody stand back. Samuel and Afha are gonna lead the way. Onward to New York, fellas.”

Leggy shrugged. He hadn’t told them everything about his first encounter with Samuel because he still wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but certainly there was something going on with this boy.

“Afha
is
a mutie,” said John. “Maybe that’s got somethin’ to do with it.”

“Yes,” said Magdalena. “All animals have heightened senses. Like hawks that can spy a mouse in the grass from a great height. Or my sheep, who will smell a bear a mile away. Maybe this donkey has a sense for danger.”

“There’s one way to find out,” said Leggy.

John turned pale. “You mean walk into the nest, if it’s there?”

“Hell no, John. Don’t be stupid. Derek, you still got that spyglass from the Bedouins?”

Derek rummaged through his sack and produced the telescope. He extended it to its full length and put it to his eye. He slowly swept the horizon.

“Ain’t nothing...ain’t nothin’ for miles and m…wait a minute. Ah, shit.”

He gave the spyglass to Leggy. Leggy peered through the eyepiece, aiming the glass in the direction Derek pointed. At first he saw nothing, but then detected movement in the distance. Black shapes scurried on the ground.

“There’s somethin’ there, all right. And right in our path,” Leggy said.

“But if it’s bugs, why would they be stirrin’, unless they caught somethin’?” asked John.

Leggy returned the spyglass. “I bet the rain drove ’em out. Maybe the nest got flooded.”

“Fuck,” said Derek, taking another look. “They’re right in our road.” He closed the spyglass and put it back into his pack. “So now what?”

Leggy shrugged. “I guess we go around.”

They stepped off the road and began trudging southward through the mud. It sucked at their boots and splashed up onto their legs.

Magdalena shook her head ruefully. “So much for being clean.”

“I’d rather be dirty than eaten,” said Derek.

They tramped south, using Afha as a sort of rough compass to define the perimeter of the nest. Every so often they tried to steer him back east, but each time he resisted. Finally, after several miles Afha allowed himself to be turned.

Though they could still see shallow pools glinting in the afternoon light, the desert valley was greedily absorbing the rainfall. The mud transformed into a dirty yellow paste and the ground grew firmer beneath their feet.

As they walked, Derek turned his attention to Samuel. “Now what’s all this bullshit about mind reading?”

“It’s true,” said Samuel. “It’s just something I’ve always been able to do. Karen says I was born that way.”

“So you can look inside my head?” asked Derek.

“Yes, if I wanted to.” Samuel turned his eyes down to the ground.

“Okay, what number am I—”

“Seven,” said Samuel.

“Lucky guess. Now what number?”

Two thousand four hundred and eleven.”

“Fuck me,” said Derek. “He’s right.”

“Can you do that with everybody? All of us here?” asked Leggy.

“Yes,” said Samuel.

“Now do me,” shouted Teddy. “What’s Teddy thinking?” He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brow.

Samuel smiled. “You’re thinking about peanut butter. Your dad bought some off a trader from the coast, a long time ago. That was the first and last time you ever tasted it.”

“Mmmm,” said Teddy with a smile, his eyes still closed. “Peanut buttteeeeeerrr.”

“I don’t like it,” said Derek. “What’s in my head is mine. Private. Travelin’ with you is like travelin’ with a thief. I’ll never know when you’re rifflin’ through my gear.”