The Desolate
Chapter Four - Baggage

I was awake several hours before dawn as planned, I’d long ago become accustomed to early mornings. In the desert especially, it was the best time of the day to get things done because of the heat. Ashe was still asleep on the lounge, she still looked a mess, with the remains of dried mucus and tears, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d cried for in the night. It almost seemed a shame to wake her now that she had finally found restful sleep. She had certainly tossed and turned much of the night, no doubt made worse by the throbbing pain in her feet and a constant flow of tears and night terrors even after she had finally managed to drift off.

But regardless of my hesitation, I thought it best to let her know my plan, especially since I strongly doubted that she could read, so leaving a note was probably pointless. I unpacked a bottle of distilled water and some food for her to last the day before heading into the kitchen and unpacking the unfiltered water placing it on the counter to give myself plenty of room in the backpack for scavenging. When I returned to the lounge area, she was sitting up and staring at me with a confused expression on her face as she wiped away the dried tears and sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

I slung the bag over my back and picked up my rifle, explaining, “Scavenging run, there should be an old-world town a few kilometers south of here. There is no telling what state it’s in being so far out of the way, but there are a few things that you need if you are going to hang around for any length of time. I’ll try to get some shoes for you to walk in and some more protective clothing if I can. In the meantime, just stay here and rest your feet. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Her expression shifted from confusion to apprehension. The idea of being left alone almost felt like abandonment to her, especially in her current condition. But the town was only a few kilometers away, and I wanted to get there, scavenge, and be back before the heat set in for the day. And that would certainly not be possible if I had to carry her the whole way. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she finally replied, “O-Okay, I’ll filter some water for us. Is there anything else that I can do to help while I wait?”

I gave it some thought, then returned to the kitchen and began searching through the cupboards. There wasn’t much left, but I did replace some pots and pans along with some plates before returning to the lounge area. “You can probably rig something together with some of the kitchen equipment to filter water,” I said as I returned to the lounge room. “If you’re not sure that’s fine, I’ll have a look when I get back. But mostly, I just want you to rest your feet, I need you to be upright and able to move as soon as possible. We can’t afford to stay here too long. If it gets too much for you, just say the word, and I’ll end it for you whenever you want. Otherwise, the next settlement that might be able to help you start a new life is around Lake Eyre.”

Her mouth fell open for a moment as if weighing up her options for the first time. But she didn’t make any reply. Instead, she forced a smile and gave me a small nervous nod, still obviously not comfortable being left alone. “Okay,” She said hesitantly, “I’ll have a look and try to have something set up before the sun comes up for the water. We can talk more about my options when you get back.”

I nodded my thanks, then paused by the front door as I was leaving, realizing she was completely unarmed. So, I unclipped the pistol in its holster from my belt and handed it to her. “Ever fired a gun before?”

“Yes.”

I gave her a small nod, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision to give a slave a gun. Or in her case a former slave since I intended to release her at the first opportunity. Either way, it was a risk. “Keep that with you just in case, and don’t trust anyone.”

She accepted the gun hesitantly before pulling it out of its holster and competently checking it over before placing it next to her on the lounge beside her before looking up, her green eyes meeting mine. “Thanks, Jack,” she said with a shy smile. “I appreciate this. I really do.”

I moved a little closer to the girl, causing her body to stiffen slightly as if expecting some sort of violent response. Instead, I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder as I’d seen others do as a sign of affection, speaking in a softer tone, trying to reassure her of my intentions, “It’s alright. We will be okay; I promise I’ll do everything I can to help. The offer of a bullet is only there as a last resort, for both of us.” I smiled a little and added in a lighter tone, “Besides, we need to do something, those clothes are completely useless out here.”

She just glared and replied, “It’s not like I had a choice what I’m wearing!” Her retort came as something of a shock, this girl not only had fire in her, but she also had courage. And that was something I could certainly respect.

Realizing I had touched a nerve, I apologized and headed for the door, “I’m sorry, that was a poor attempt at humor on my part.”

Her face turned instantly from anger to worry and fear, “I—I’m sorry, it’s just…”

I held a hand up to stop her. “It’s no problem, just rest here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

In my mind, the logic of helping the girl made little practical sense despite her obvious physical attractions, all things that factored in very little into my decision to help the girl. The truth was that I liked her presence, and I liked her fiery personality. She was good company and she had at least some survival instincts, both of which could be useful. But then I remembered my plans and pushed down any thoughts of allowing the girl to stay with me for any longer than necessary. I was heading to my own death, and I had no intention of allowing her to join me in that endeavor.

The morning breeze was refreshing outside the homestead, and it was significantly less musty than it had been inside the house. It was much nicer walking this time of the day, and the desert was eerily calm in all its natural beauty as first light made its presence known just on the horizon. Lighting up the distant hills in a silhouette of shadows on the distant horizon over the seemingly endless flat plains.

It was an uneventful walk, offering me time to think about my next move, time to think and consider the road ahead. There was still so much uncertainty in my mind about Ashe, and I was still considering carefully what I was going to do about the girl who seemed to be slowly burrowing her way into my life in a single day. I had to admit, the prospect of having female company was a fascinating distraction, but it also meant a higher risk and a need for more resources. There were a lot of questions I needed answered before I could make any decisions on what I was going to do about her, and she had to be made aware of the kind of life I was living, mostly nomadic, and mostly out in the wilderness. And eventually, when I had seen all that I needed to see, I would seek my own death. But the thought before that stopped me and I caught myself, most of my questions focused on her welfare and making sure she had the best chance of survival. The idea of taking her south appealed to me, having company on the road, but the idea of her death because of my choices most certainly didn’t—I would have to engage in a frank conversation with her in the next few days, certainly before we got to Lake Eyre. And there were a few more settlements between us and the mountains where she might be able to make a life for herself. So, there was no need to do anything rash. Then the realization hit me that these were all rationalizations for my hope to keep her around just a little longer.

The ruined town was a little further than I thought, which meant that either the map was wrong, or the former owners of the homestead were wrong about the location of the homestead. I made a note to check when I got back. It may have been an accident or a diversion, or it may have been pointing to something else.

The town itself was much like any other old-world settlement. It was small, with just a few streets lined with houses that mostly laid in ruins, with anything built out of wood collapsing under its own weight long ago as the material rotted away. I walked along several ruined streets with the tarred roads mostly buried in sand and dust from the desert winds, passing a few brick homes that still seemed to be mostly intact. It was always worth checking places like that in my experience, it’s amazing how much one could replace in places hidden in old-world ruins with a little patience, even after all these years. Still, time was not a luxury I had on this occasion, so I decided to make it quick. Not having my pistol on hand meant going in with my rifle drawn a little too far from my body, which was not ideal, but then again, given the location, it was unlikely to cause a problem since zombies still hadn’t made it this far inland. Certainly not recently.

I pulled out the hunting knife and held it under the rifle just in case anything jumped out and proceeded to clear the first house, performing a search, and coming up mostly empty-handed besides some old tins containing some unknown food source in the kitchen and a box of ammunition in a bedroom closet, but any sign of a gun was long gone. The box was in was too faded to determine the exact caliber, but I figured they might work with my pistol. I would have to check them with the Glock when I got back to be sure. Either way, they would be good for trade along the journey south.

The houses turned out not to be a complete waste of time, all things considered. I gathered several more tins of preserved foods of various kinds as well as some jewellery, tobacco, and in the last house, an old bottle of whisky stashed away in a cupboard. Suitable clothing for Ashe, however, was seemingly much more elusive. It was made more difficult by the fact I was searching for suitable footwear in a relatively small size. Most of the old-world women’s shoes I’d found so far were thoroughly unacceptable, with one pair containing a strange narrow platform on the heel. I’d read about high heels before but looking at them seems even more impractical somehow, and possibly painful. Whatever purpose they had once served in the old world, they were dangerous now. I had read that high heels were supposed to make a woman more attractive. But I just couldn’t picture it.

Moving on from the last house and back into the street, I advanced closer to the town center, coming across a handful of old shops that had been looted long ago. I started to doubt I would replace much at all until I came across a store that still appeared somewhat intact except for its windows. It had been heavily looted as with all the others, but when I peered inside, I noticed most of the women’s apparel was still there. Typical! I thought to myself, of course, they would take protective clothing for themselves and make their women wear almost nothing. The old clothing store once sold heavy-duty outdoor equipment and clothing for the locals that lived here before the collapse of the old world, and if I was going to replace anything suitable for Ashe, it would certainly be there.

I cleared the store the same as I had done for the houses, before turning my attention to the mostly bare shelves. There were still some useful items around for sure, I supposed women’s clothing and boots were not as highly sought after as ammunition and food these days. There probably weren’t too many slavers or raiders fitting their female slaves with heavy boots and thick protective clothing around New Alice. It was lucky for Ashe I supposed, as I gathered a pair of thick pants a size or two larger than she is now along with a belt and steel-capped leather boots, would be most suitable for the road. I grabbed a couple of shirts as well and packed them away quickly before moving back to the front of the store, my eyes, and ears still on high alert when the sound of a car engine alerted me to the fact I was not alone here. The engine cut out just as I ducked down behind a few shelves, trying to avoid alerting them to my presence. I heard the car doors open and slam shut as a small group exited the vehicle. Their voices echoed in the street as they moved clumsily and without caution, as slavers often did. After all, who did they need to hide from?

“Sam? Why the fuck are we in this shit hole?” One of the men complained.

“Hunting,” a familiar deep voice grumbled, “now keep your fuckin’ eyes open!”

If they are hunting, then they are surely terrible at it! I thought to myself, then realization struck. That voice seemed all too familiar. Surely, the asshole from the bar hadn’t followed us this far out of New Alice.

“It’s way too early for this shit. The sun’s barely even up yet!” Another man complained. I waited silently as their footsteps drew closer. I tried to gather as much information as I could about the men. They seemed to be walking along the road, barely paying attention to their surroundings, or at least they were not terribly familiar with stealth and tracking. If indeed one could call them hunters, they were not particularly proficient at it as they clumsily stepped over rocks and crushed glass. But it was common for slavers, they didn’t usually care if they were seen. And that could mean only one thing, that they were heavily armed.

“Would you rather do this now or when it’s stinking fucking hot?” The one called Sam replied with a snarl. He seemed to be the one calling the shots even though he was not the one Mick had identified as the son of Malcolm Bishop. My ears detected as many as four separate footsteps as they passed the storefront. “Drew, my boy, that fucking trader said he’ll be passing through here unless he went deep desert. ’Reckons he’ll be avoiding the highway, so we’ve got to think outside the box.”

“Yeah, I know!” Drew replied, sighing with resignation in his voice, “I heard the slave he bought was a pretty one though. Are we gonna keep her?”

Sam laughed and said, “Oh yeah, I tried to buy her a few weeks ago, the motherfucker put a really high price on her, so I just rented the little slut for the night. Fuck she had a tight ass, but her fuckin’ pussy was dry as fuck. The stupid bitch wouldn’t stop crying the whole time. I was glad to fucking send her back in the end, but not after I fucked her bloody.”

Draw laughed in response, adding, “I vote when we kill the fucker, and we use the girl up and sell her on. Fuck the northerners, they can have her when she’s all used up.” Their callous words and the thought of what they’d done made my blood boil, before asking myself at the same moment—why did I have the urge to protect this girl? It was a strange feeling that I tried pushed down; it was something to think about later, but the urge to protect her from that fate still boiled away beneath the surface with my urge to kill that motherfucker. I took in a deep breath to keep my focus. I had to be getting passed these idiots and back to the homestead, preferably without being seen.

“Anyway,” Sam said, “enough stories, stay alert! That trader said this fucker is dangerous, fought in the Northern War apparently with your brother!” His deep voice echoed off the surrounding ruins.

“Which one?” Drew asked.

“That dumb fuck out west, Isaiah.”

It seemed like Rick had given me away, though it was hardly a surprise. A few rounds of ammunition and I had no doubt he’d tell them anything; he was loyal to his customers, but only up to a point. He was a businessman after all. Still, I’d known Rick far too long and he knew far too much about my habits for my comfort, so I had to consider a change of plans. I doubted they would replace the homestead, there were dozens of places just like it in the surrounding area, so we’d be okay there if we laid low for a few days, especially if I wasn’t seen. And that thought was encouraged by the fact that if there had been a road to the homestead, it had been buried long ago by the desert.

Sneaking out of town was my first thought, but then again, if these guys lived, it might cause us problems. I tried to think of a plan that didn’t involve getting into a shootout with a bunch of poorly skilled, but well-armed thugs and came up empty. I caught a look at them through the smashed store window and spotted three of them with bolt action rifles of various sorts and the familiar bold man ‘Sam’, wielding an assault rifle of some sort. It was an old military issue Styr though it was hard to tell from a distance what condition the weapon was in. Those things did not function well when they were poorly maintained, and I had my doubts that these guys were as attentive to such things as they should have been. One of the men, ‘Drew’, was the one that Micky had pointed out at the bar as the son of Malcolm Bishop. He continued to joke about his ‘fun’ with Ashe. And at that moment, I decided that I did not care who his family was. If I had the opportunity, I would kill them all slowly and leave their rotting meat to the dingoes in the deep desert.

I moved to the rear of the store and out through a rear entrance as quietly as possible, and into a small pathway with a rusted wire fence and a small industrial area behind it full of rusted old cars and equipment that was long past their used-by date. Quietly, paralleling the group as they moved along the street, I moved fast and low trying not to be spotted. Wondering at the same time exactly how much information Rick had given them, as I continued to listen in, but the sound was less clear from this far away. He knew my usual patterns well enough, and he knew I often stopped at the Lake Eyre settlement for water and food, so that gave away my direction to some extent. Still, skipping Lake Eyre was not ideal for my journey south. I had contacts there that might help with our tail, but I couldn’t bring that kind of hell down on them.

Still, I wanted to be sure they wouldn’t follow me all the way back to the mountains to the far east. Bypassing Lake Eyre was manageable, but the idea of having a tail all the way to the coast was not an appealing thought. Their conversation seemed to die off as the men performed haphazard searches of some of the brick homes, many of which I’d already been through as the leader ‘Sam’ moved far too casually along the street. If they knew what they were looking for, they’d have seen the signs of my recent visit, but it didn’t appear that any of the four were trackers in any sense of the word.

Then somehow, they did get lucky. I’m not sure how they spotted me, perhaps a glint from my rifle in the morning sun, or maybe it was just the movement caught in the corner of someone’s eye. “There’s some asshole following us!” Sam growled as he moved into cover, yelling to his friends, “Get that motherfucker,” He haphazardly opened fire in my general direction.

Ducking low instinctively, I swore to myself, as bullets bounced off the walls nearby. I quickly moved back into the industrial area without being seen again and hid behind a rusted garage with a collapsed roller door. The shell of a rusted beetle provides some cover as two men approach carelessly, their rifles drawn. “Where’d the motherfucker go?” one of the men said loudly, giving their position away immediately. These were not just poor hunters, they were incompetent.

The two men approached, their footsteps heavy and their rifles drawn ready to shoot as I slipped behind the building just as they rounded the corner of the garage and rushed back towards the street. When I reached the alleyway once more, I found one of the men moving along the same path I had been following behind the houses. He had no idea when I moved up behind him and swiftly drove my knife through the back of his neck and up into his skull. Killing him instantly and without a sound while the others seemed preoccupied with their poorly organized search. I gathered the man’s rifle, another one much like my own, and a handful of loose rounds from his pocket. Realising then, that it was the blonde asshole Mick had pointed out had been my victim, the one named ‘Drew’.

Shame there was no time for the dingoes to finish my earlier thought on the scum bag as I spat on his lifeless corpse. But it surely meant that they would come back in force if word got back to Malcolm Bishop. It was time to leave, as the other two men neared the alleyway. I ran well clear of the men about another hundred meters and fired on one of them he came running down the alleyway, trying to help the blonde idiot who got in my way. The bullet struck him in the chest before I moved behind the wall of a collapsed weatherboard house. Slipping away quietly. By the time I heard shouting about their friends, I was a few hundred meters away. Ducking down behind a small brick fence, I tried to listen in on their heated conversation as the two surviving men shouted back and forth. “It was him—from the fuckin’ bar! I want that desert rat fucking dead!”

“We should head back! Old man Bishop will want to know about this!”

“Fuck!” I growled to myself, knowing what that meant. I made a choice at that moment, knowing that they knew Ashe was with me. It meant I couldn’t just drop her off somewhere to pay for my own mistake. I could try to hunt and kill the remaining two and maybe get lucky. But as I turned the thought over in my mind, I heard the engine start in the distance. The fact that they had access to vehicles ended any thought of that immediately. I peeked around the corner and saw the two bodies still lying where they fell.

“You’re fucked now, Jack!” Sam’s deep voice called out over the sound of the engine. “Bishop’s gonna have a fuckin’ army after your head now, you fuckin’ rat!” His words probably meant access to radio communication as well which meant an urgent need to get moving the second, I got back. I cursed to myself at my mistake. I’d relished the moment my knife killed the sick blonde asshole, but his death would almost certainly mean mine, and far worse if they found Ashe.

I growled to myself as I ran back in the direction of the homestead, “You are a fucking idiot, Jack!” Killing the slavers was probably going to be necessary, along with whoever they brought with them, but I had to get to Ashe and fast. If a large search party was now being organized, it would be a matter of time before they found us. We would not be able to hug the edge of the Sand Sea as I would normally have done, we would need to go straight through it where none of their vehicles could follow.