Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalipse

In moments, men were making their way back to the stockade. Soon after that, they returned toting battered tins of gas. Del sniffed each gallon, in case some buffoon thought water would get him by. Each man received a token and took his place. Del sold tacos and dangerous drugs, taking what he could get in trade. Candles and Mason jars, a rusty knife. Half a manual on full-field maintenance for the Chrysler Mark XX Urban Tank. The drugs were different colors but the same: twelve parts oregano, three parts rabbit shit, one part marijuana stems. All this under Possum’s watchful eye.

“By God,” said the first man out of the van. “She’s worth it, I’ll tell you that. Have her do the Nurse, you won’t regret it!”

“The Schoolteacher’s best,” said the second man through. “I never seen the like. I don’t care if she’s real or she ain’t.”

“What’s in these tacos?” a customer asked Del.

“Nobody you know, mister,” Del said.

#

"It’s been a long day," Ginny said. "I’m pooped, and that’s the truth." She wrinkled up her nose. "First thing we hit a town, you hose ’er out good now, Del. Place smells like a sewer or maybe worse."

Del squinted at the sky and pulled up under the scant shade of mesquite. He stepped out and kicked the tires. Ginny got down, walked around and stretched.

"It’s getting late," Del said. "You want to go on or stop here?"

"You figure those boys might decide to get a rebate on this gas?"

"Hope they do," Possum said from atop the van.

"You’re a pisser," Ginny laughed, "I’ll say that. Hell, let’s keep going. I could use a hot bath and town food. What you figure’s up the road?"

"East Bad News," Del said, "if this map’s worth anything at all. Ginny, night driving’s no good. You don’t know what’s waiting down the road."

"I know what’s on the roof," Ginny said. "Let’s do it. I’m itchy all over with bugs and dirt and that tub keeps shinin’ in my head. You want me to drive a spell, I sure will."

"Get in," Del grumbled. "Your driving’s scarier than anything I’ll meet."

#

Morning arrived in purple shadow and metal tones, copper, silver, and gold. From a distance, East Bad News looked to Ginny like garbage strewn carelessly over the flats. Closer, it looked like larger garbage. Tin shacks and tents and haphazard buildings rehashed from whatever they were before. Cookfires burned, and the locals wandered about and yawned and scratched. Three places offered food. Other places bed and a bath. Something to look forward to, at least. She spotted the sign down at the far end of town.

MORO’S REPAIRS

Armaments * Machinery * Electronic Shit of All Kinds

"Hold it!" Ginny said. "Pull ’er in right there." Del looked alarmed. "What for?"

"Don’t get excited. There’s gear needs tending in back. I just want ’em to take a look."

"Didn’t mention it to me," Del said.

Ginny saw the sad and droopy eyes, the tired wisps of hair sticking flat to Del’s ears. "Del, there wasn’t anything to mention," she said in a kindly tone. "Nothing you can really put your finger on, I mean, okay?"

"Whatever you think," Del said, clearly out of sorts.

Ginny sighed and got out. Barbed wire surrounded the yard behind the shop. The yard was ankle-deep in tangles of rope and copper cable, rusted unidentifiable parts. A battered pickup hugged the wall. Morning heat curled the tin roof of the building. More parts spilled out of the door. Possum made a funny noise, and Ginny saw the Dog step into the light. A Shepherd, maybe six-foot-two. It showed Possum Dark yellow eyes. A man appeared behind the Dog, wiping heavy grease on his pants. Bare to the waist, hair like stuffing out of a chair. Features hard as rock, flint eyes to match. Not bad looking, thought Ginny, if you cleaned him up good.

"Well now," said the man. He glanced at the van, read the legend on the side, took in Ginny from head to toe. "What can I do for you, little lady?"

"I’m not real little and don’t guess I’m any lady," Ginny said. "Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. You open for business or just talk?"

The man grinned. "My name’s Moro Gain. Never turn business away if I can help it."

"I need electric stuff."

"We got it. What’s the problem?"

"Huh-unh." Ginny shook her head. "First, I gotta ask. You do confidential work or tell everything you know?"

"Secret’s my middle name," Moro said. "Might cost a little more, but you got it."

"How much?"

Moro closed one eye. "Now, how do I know that? You got a nuclear device in there, or a broken watch? Drive it on in and we’ll take a look." He aimed a greasy finger at Possum Dark. "Leave him outside."

"No way."

"No arms in the shop. That’s a rule."

"He isn’t carrying. Just the guns you see." Ginny smiled. "You can shake him down if you like. I wouldn’t, I don’t think."

"He looks imposing, all right."

"I’d say he is."

"What the hell," Moro said, "drive it in."

Dog unlocked the gate. Possum climbed down and followed with oily eyes.

"Go find us a place to stay," Ginny said to Del. "Clean, if you can find it. All the hot water in town. Christ sakes, Del, you still sulking or what?"