Nick Cole - The Wasteland Saga

“It would mean the end of your life,” said Natalie. “Now that the laser pointer is inoperative the device’s beacon is our only option for aiming the weapon. If you are anywhere near the beacon once the weapon reaches the target… you will die.”

Static.

“Go home,” said Natalie tiredly. “You’ve done more than enough. We won’t last much longer.”

The Old Man and the Boy walked up the hill, climbing over the low wall and walking among the junk-forged cannons that lay broken and smashed.

“Where will you go now?” asked the Old Man.

The Boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve really never known where I was going. I’ve only followed the road.”

“What about your people?”

The Boy watched her on the plain below, galloping back and forth on her pinto mare. He thought of his friend. He thought of Horse.

“They are only where I am from. That’s all.”

It was quiet among the cannons and supplies that lay strewn about.

“I want to ask you something,” said the Old Man.

The Boy turned to face the Old Man, leaning stiffly against the low bric-a-brac wall as he tried to give his weak left side a brief rest.

He waited for the Old Man to speak.

“I’m going on now. Alone.”

The Old Man took out Sergeant Presley’s map and handed it back to the Boy.

The Boy took it, watching the Old Man.

“What about her?”

“I want you to take her back to Tucson for me. I know I can trust you. Take her to her parents. You’ll be welcome there. As will all your people. And also, others who will arrive here sometime tomorrow.”

“What others?”

“The people trapped in the bunker. They have transportation. If all goes well, they should be here sometime tomorrow. Then you can lead them to Tucson. There is more than enough there for everyone.”

“And you?” asked the Boy in the silence that followed.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming with you.”

The Boy watched the Old Man.

He doesn’t think I’m up to it.

He doesn’t think I’ll be enough, and even now he’ll throw his life away to save mine.

But he doesn’t know how to drive the tank.

“I need you to do this for me.”

The Boy nodded.

“Then I’ll do what you ask.”

I expected some kind of fight. Some argument. Now all I have to do is walk down the hill and drive the tank away from here.

From her.

No, Poppa. I need you .

Yes, you do. And I need you too.

In the dream she always said Grandpa.

But I tried to trick the dream and change my name.

No, Poppa. I need you .

It seems the trick has been played on you, my friend. It found you all the same.

Yes.

“Yes.”

“What?” asked the Boy.

The Old Man looked confused.

“You said, ‘yes.’”

Now I’m talking out loud to myself.

“Just answering a question I’ve been asking lately.”

Below, she wheeled the pinto mare and raced back across the plain.

The tank is waiting, my friend.

I don’t want to go now.

No, Poppa. I need you .

“What was the question?” asked the Boy.

You’re wasting time. The bunker could flood with radiation at any moment if they manage to get through.

“The question is ‘Can you let go?’ I hear it a lot lately.”

“Let go of what?” asked the Boy.

The Old Man swallowed.

“Life, I guess.”

“And ‘yes’ was your answer?”

The Old Man looked up and said nothing. Words seemed lost somewhere in his throat.

The Boy looked down at the dirt beneath his tired and worn boots and said, “You take everything with you.”

“I don’t understand,” said the Old Man.

“It’s my… my words I say to myself all the time. I think my words and your question are maybe somehow the same.”

I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak at one time, Boy.

The Boy saw the passing shadow of something familiar in the Old Man’s face.

“And what is your answer?” asked the Old Man.

The Boy looked down at his weak leg. He rubbed his thick fingers over the thin muscles there.

“I don’t think mine has an answer. I think I would like to have your question instead of my words,” said the Boy.

“How come?”

The Boy sighed heavily.

Only the young can carry so much weight. And if I could, I would lift it off him and tell him everything will be okay. Life is more than just a bad day, even if today is that day.

“Everyone I ever loved is dead,” said the Boy. “And… everywhere I go, their memory follows me. It tortures me.”

A small breeze crossed the top of the hill, bending the grass, softly whistling through some opened breech in one of the scrap metal cannons.

“I don’t think the ones who loved you would have ever wanted that,” said the Old Man. “When my wife died she said, ‘Don’t think about me anymore.’ I asked, ‘How could I not?’ She said, ‘I don’t know how, but I know this life is too hard and I don’t want to be a burden anymore.’”

Silence.

“She was never a burden,” mumbled the Old Man to himself. “I told her…”

And that, my friend, is why the voice that asks ‘Can you let go?’ is so familiar. You told her that. You told her she wasn’t a burden and that when she died you would be miserable. So she stayed. She hung on as the cancer ate her up. And one day…

In our shed.

She asked me.

“Can you let go?”

I had forgotten about that.

I said… I could now. But only because she was in so much pain and so tired from trying to hang on for me.

She smiled.

And then she was gone.

The Boy watched the Old Man wipe a tear from his eye.

“I must… I should be getting on the road now. You will take her to Tucson, right?”

“Yes.”

“Keep a tight hold on her when I leave. She’s stronger than you think.”

“I will.”

“And tell her I love her. Always.”

“That is obvious to everyone.”

They started down the hill.

“The people that were rescued,” said the Boy. “They said their leader, a man named Ted, was taken on ahead of them a week ago. They wanted us to look for him if we go north.”

“How could we possibly find him?”

“They said he wears glasses and has a thick mustache. And that he shaves his head.”

“I’ll… it seems doubtful, but I’ll try.”

The Boy simply nodded.

In an hour it will be hotter.

The worst of the day’s heat is still to come.

I must hurry now.

He turned to the Boy.

“I’ll make you a deal,” said the Old Man suddenly.

The Boy cocked his head, not sure what to make of the Old Man’s unexpected smile.

“I’ll make you a deal. We’ll trade.”

“Trade what?”

“Words. You take mine and I’ll take yours.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how, other than that we just decide to. I want to take everything with me. I think that would be wonderful.”

Her smile.

Her friendship.

“I think I’ll need it wherever I am going. And you, can you let go?”

“I don’t know.”

“When we found you in the desert, you kept asking who you were. I don’t think you wanted to be you anymore. So you can let go now. You should, because you’ve carried too much for too long. Yes. That’s my answer. And I’m letting go too. But I will take everything with me. Am I just a crazy old man for wanting that? For trading words with you? Am I crazy?”

“No. You’re very brave.”

“I’m afraid too.”

“Sergeant Presley said that’s part of being brave.”