Jason Frost - Badlands

Paige carried the cassette player to the piano, lifted the lid, and turned back to Eric. When she spoke, her voice was husky with emotion. "Thanks, Eric."

Eric tossed the two cassettes to her and followed Peter out the door.

Paige sat at the piano, listening to the tape, matching the notes on the piano, scribbling them down on paper. She broke the code immediately. It was simple, just as she'd thought. Each letter of the alphabet corresponded to a note on the piano. She had a couple sentences written when she heard a noise behind her. Startled, she turned around.

"Hi," Sarah said, cradling her sock doll, Rupert.

"Hi, Sarah." Paige smiled, turning back to her work. Cute kid, she thought, then was lost again in the code, forgetting Sarah was even there.

Sarah took tiny steps toward Paige. When she was only a foot behind her, Sarah reached inside her sock doll and pulled out a corroded pipe wrench. Some of the stuffing came out with the wrench. She picked clumps of stuffing from the wrench and carefully tucked them back into her sock doll. When that was done, she lifted the wrench over her head with both hands and brought it down on the back of Paige's head.

Wendy stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Paige lying on the floor and at Sarah standing there with the bloody wrench. She smiled at Sarah. "Good girl, Sarah. Good girl."

"So how does that thing work?" Peter said.

Eric laid his HK 93 on the ground. Then he unslung the crossbow and held it out for Peter to examine. "You ever own a BB gun?"

"Nah. My parents wouldn't let me. But Aaron Roth down the street used to let me use his sometimes. We'd shoot Coke cans in his back yard."

"Well, this bow cocks just like a lot of BB guns, only it takes a lot more strength, so you usually put it on the ground and lean into it. Like this." Eric pushed the nose of the bow against the ground, leaned his body into it, and the cocking mechanism slid back until the bowstring was pulled back into the trigger. He straightened up and handed the bow to Peter. The weight surprised Peter, for the bow dropped a few inches in his hands.

"Jeez, this sucker's heavy." He hefted it a few times, grinning.

Eric smiled at the boy's delight. It had been a long time since he'd played teacher. He could imagine his classroom now back at the university, the students laughing at something, or arguing with him about some point, or groaning as he explained their next assignment. It was a role that had suited him well. Much more than his previous one of commando or his present one of avenger. From the house, the single notes from the piano echoed crisply in the warm air. He would give Paige a few more minutes tinkering with the code. Then they would have to leave. He still had to hunt down Fallows and steal Tim. Steal him? Funny word to choose, as if he were taking something that belonged to someone else. But that was his fear, wasn't it? That Fallows, with all the time he'd had with Tim, had somehow brainwashed him. He'd done it before in less time. Almost had done it to Eric.

"Whoosh," Peter said, aiming down the length of the empty crossbow. "Thud. Got him."

"Just be sure you don't fire a bow without an arrow. Damages the bow." He looked at his watch. Twenty-three hours left to retrieve Tim and get back to the shuttle. Less than a day.

The piano notes had stopped coming from the house. Good, maybe she was done. He'd show Peter how to shoot the bow then they could be on their way.

A few kids drifted from around the back of the house, wandering toward Eric and Peter. Eric noticed that little Sarah was among them. Together they formed a little group of eight curious onlookers, silently watching. Most of them looked pretty.healthy and clean, but a couple of them looked a bit pale and sickly. Well, that was to be expected under the circumstances. No medical supplies up here. No doctor. They were lucky to have food and water and shelter.

"Can I try it with an arrow?" Peter asked.

"Let me show you how first," Eric said. He took the bow back, slid a bolt into the brass groove. "Like this, see? With the guide feather in the groove."

"Yeah."

Eric twisted away from Peter, thumbed the safety button, and swung around again with the bow against his shoulder. "That branch," he said, indicating a gnarled stick of wood the size of a baseball bat about fifty feet away. He squeezed the trigger. The bolt rocketed from the bow with a whiz and dove straight into the stick, chipping off a chunk of wood.

"Wow," Peter said, impressed.

The group of children behind them applauded. They started to walk closer.

Eric turned and smiled at them. "Hi, kids."

They smiled back but didn't answer.

Eric winked at Sarah. "Hi, Sarah."

She hugged her sock doll to her neck and giggled. "Hi, mister."

The children all walked closer.

"Careful now," Eric warned. "Don't get too close to that gun. It's dangerous."

The children smiled, but kept walking.

"I mean it now," Eric said sternly.

They stopped. One of the kids started coughing so violently his little baseball cap fell off. Beneath the cap he was almost bald. Eric noticed some hair loss among a couple of the other sickly kids.

"What's wrong with them?" Eric asked Peter.

Peter shrugged. "Cold or flu, I guess. They'll be OK."

"You don't cook indoors do you?"

"Nope. Wendy keeps a fire outside the back door for cooking. She read that burning some kinds of wood inside can be harmful. Sometimes we have a fire inside, but only with dry branches around here. We're pretty careful."

Eric nodded. The kids were pretty smart.

"Can I try it, Mr. Ravensmith?" Peter begged. "Shoot your bow?"

"Sure, Peter."

He handed Peter the bow and a sharp bolt.

Peter smiled. So did the rest of the children.

They sure are a happy bunch of kids, Eric thought as he watched Peter cock the bow and slide the bolt into place.

"Hurry up, children. Get the shoes first."

Wendy's voice broke through Paige's haze as if it were being carried through a heating duct from one apartment to another. She felt little hands tugging at her shoes. She tried to kick them away.

"Oh fudge!" Wendy said. "She's alive."

Paige struggled to lift her aching head from the floor as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the small room. All she could make out was a cluster of little faces hovering around her and, above them, Wendy, looking flustered.

"Darn," Wendy said. "I was sure she was dead. Billy, hand me that knife there. No, not that one. The long one with the teeth."

"What are you doing?" Paige asked, lifting herself to her elbows, despite the throbbing at the back of her head. Tiny hands reached out and started pushing her back to the floor. She brushed a few aside, but there were so many of them. And now Wendy was leaning over her with that long, saw-toothed knife.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Wendy said. "Really sorry. We thought you were already dead."

"Dead?" Paige repeated numbly. Then she remembered the thump on her head. "Sarah."

Wendy nodded. "Yes, usually Sarah's much more reliable. She clobbers someone they're usually down for good. I guess her aim was a little off this time."

"I don't understand. Where am I?"

Wendy smiled slightly. "Used to be the pantry."

Paige's eyes focused slowly on the surroundings. In the dark she hadn't recognized it. Sure, the pantry. How many times had she hid in this room nibbling Fig Newtons until she was sick? But it wasn't as she remembered it. There were objects of all sizes hanging from the ceiling. Beneath each thing was a pan or a bucket. A couple objects were still dripping into their pans. The smell of the room was different too. Heavy. Sickly rich.

Wendy's apron was dark, smeared with something.