Despite Leggy's optimism, it quickly became obvious that they could not overtake the Bedouins--not while carrying Teddy's enormous pack. And not while trying to roll Leggy's rusted chair over the rocky road.

And so Derek left them.

"Damn," muttered Derek, stopping to catch his breath. He'd been jogging after the caravan all morning. Now he could hear their laughter ahead of him, and smell the exotic spices of the their wares. Behind him, miles behind, John and Leggy were slowly making their way along the road, but at the rate they were travelling, they were at least a day's journey behind him, and growing further by the minute.

Derek had long since stopped calling Teddy's name. He knew that if the Bedouins did indeed have his brother, then the element of surprise might be his only chance of stealing him back. By his best estimate, there were at least a dozen of them--and all of them muties, he was sure. Who else traveled east out of Levitton?

He huffed, took a long swallow of water, and began again his pursuit, sometimes jogging, sometimes running, ever closing the distance between him and the caravan.

Woodcarving by Joyce Pommer, © 2001

Two days later, Leggy and John saw the caravan for the first time in the distance. Their march had been tedious and hurried. They had been running what they believed to be a losing race, Leggy with the enormous supply pack balanced precariously on his lap (it had been rare that they had traveled more than a few yards without the pack shifting awkwardly or dropping) and John heaving and pushing, fighting for every inch, behind the weighted-down wheelchair.

At times, both had thought about simply ditching the pack and turning back to San Nuyammo, but these considerations had gone unspoken. They had not turned back. They had persevered. They had plodded along. And thus, even in his absence, Derek's unspoken command had held, his quiet authority had pulled them, ever forward, like a dangerous magnet. 'Onward, to New York!'

And now they could actually see the caravan. John stopped pushing and Leggy lowered the pack to the ground. "What do you suppose they're doing?" John asked. "It looks like they've stopped."

"It sure does," Leggy chewed at his lip. "And here we are, it's nearly noon. Something's not right. It's not like any desert travelers I know to stop in the middle of the day."

"Maybe one of them's sick. Maybe they've found a spring and are filling their skins," John offered.

"Maybe Teddy decided he wanted to turn around," Leggy smirked.

"Maybe Derek caught up with them."

"A lot of maybe's," Leggy grinned, "But all's we know is that we won't know until we know. Now get back there and start pushin', boy!" Leggy hefted the pack back up onto his lap. John wiped the sweat from his forehead, took a sip from his canteen, and began once again to push the chair forward over the cracked and broken road.

It was nearly dusk when they spotted the birds. The caravan had not moved in the entire time that they had watched it, and they had grown more and more tentative and wary as they had drawn closer. Finally, when they were well within earshot they had stopped. They listened for a long time, but heard nothing.

Leggy pointed, "Those are vultures."

John squinted his eyes against the rapidly darkening sky. He could barely discern the circling forms of the scavenger birds. "What does that mean?, he asked, "Do you think--" Leggy shook his head and motioned for John to continue pushing. "We'll know soon enough," he said.

It was growing dark when they rolled into the campsite. They had paused a little ways back when they had suddenly spotted a small campfire, but pressed forward again when they heard nothing. The Bedouin's music was absent from the chill night air.

Finally, they had reached the camp. After hiding the equipment pack and scoping out the situation from the shadows, they had cautiously entered the circle of light surrounding the enormous campfire.

Sitting across from each other at the fire were the unmistakable forms of Derek and Teddy. All about them lay the ruins of the Bedouin's caravan--two of the wagons had been overturned, their goods flung across the desert floor. Scraps of cloth and canvas flapped in the ragged breeze. The ground was red with blood. Just outside the ring of firelight, John watched scavenger birds alight on a prone shape, their cruel beaks hooking and tearing into dead flesh.

Teddy grinned sheepishly. Leggy gaped, and as John rolled him closer they could see, in the fire's unearthly glow, that the giant's hands and shirt were soaked red. Derek smiled that evil, innocent smile that had so scared John when they were young. "What kept you boys?" he asked.

"What happened here?" asked Leggy.

Derek scratched his chin. He'd been pondering how to answer that question ever since the John and the old man had hove into view over the horizon. A part of him wanted to take credit for the destruction that lay about them. He could see from John's horrified expression that John just might believe it, too, and that would be good. But Leggy was a clever old poke. He'd spotted Teddy's tracks two mornings ago, and sure enough he'd be able to read the signs around the ruin of the Beduoin caravan once his shock wore off. So Derek told the truth.

"Bugs," he said. "The caravan ran into a nest of bugs."

Leggy's face went pale. John felt bile reaching up into his throat. "We gotta get out of here," he said, his voice shaking. "We gotta get out of here before they come back to get us."

"Shut up," said Derek. "Don't you remember nothin'? They've had themselves a good old gorging. They'll be sleepin' it off for a week."

John turned away from his companions and puked onto the blood-caked ground. Derek grinned. He turned to the old man.

"How's your guts?" he asked insolently.

Leggy's hands trembled on the hard wheels of his chair, but he kept his voice steady. "What happened? And why didn't they get you?"

"Pull up a seat," invited Derek. "These here gypsies were lugging a bit of coffee, so I had Teddy brew up a pot." As Leggy wheeled himself closer, he could see that Derek was sitting on the hard carapace of a dead bug. Its head had been smashed in. Leggy shuddered at the sight of the creature, but wheeled himself forward. When the party had settled themselves around the fire, Derek told his story.

"I caught up to these sons of bitches just before noon today," he said. "They were still a few hundred yards ahead of me, but I could see Teddy. He was tied to one of their pack mules--not even riding. Those cunts made him walk the whole way."

"But how did they get him?" asked Leggy.

Derek turned to his brother.

"Da music," said Teddy. "I wanted to hear more music. I got up in the night to sit by their fires. They play for me, and give me a drink. It make me sleepy sleepy." "They drugged him," said Derek.

"So how did you get him back?" asked John.

"That's what I was tryin' to figure out," said Derek. "I could see him, but there was no way I could sneak up on the caravan, and no way the the two of us could fight off a whole pack of em. I thought maybe I could bargain for him. I still got some silver from back in Levitton. Then it occurred to me that they'd get a better bargain if they kept my silver and added me to their wares. I didn't know what to do. And then all hell broke loose."

Derek stopped, remembering the bug attack. The creatures, nearly as big as a man, had boiled out of the sand like a plague, hissing and whistling. There couldn't have been more than five or six of them, but it seemed like the sky went black. They tore through the first wagon, shredding and slashing with their pincers, their chitonous armor rattling. Men and mules had screamed in terror before they were gutted. Bedouins leapt from the other wagons, armed with clubs and spears.

"Teddy's mule bolted," said Derek. "He ran off the road and into the desert, Teddy right behind. I screamed his name but he couldn't hear me, so I ran after him. By the time I caught up to them, the mule had tuckered itself out. It just stood there, shaking. Teddy was trying to drag it back to the road. I cut his ropes, and we went back to see what had happened.

"When we made our way back to the wagons, the fight was over. The bugs were…" Derek's voice hitched a bit, "…were draggin' bodies--people and mules--down into their nests. Then one of 'em spotted us."

Derek remembered how fast it had moved, scuttling like a black nightmare across the yellow desert skin, hissing with ravenous greed, bony legs clinking, mandibles alive and dripping blood.

"Teddy snatched up one of the Bedouin's clubs and beat its brains in," said Derek. "This fucker right here," he said, spitting on the carapace on which he and his brother sat. He himself had picked up a spear, ramming it into the soft shell of the bug's underbelly, screaming in triumph over the creature's agony.

"Them other bugs looked us over," said Derek, a hideous grin on his face. "Guess they decided they got enough, huh Ted."

Teddy nodded gravely. He'd been proud to stand on the edge of ruin with his brother, to have bashed the monster, to chase the other monsters back into their ugly holes.

"They slunk off with a few more corpses," said Derek, "and that was that. We just been going through what's left of their goods and waitin' on you."

The group was silent for awhile. Leggy spiked his coffee with a healthy measure from his silver flask.

John's hands trembled in the firelight. "Good thing the Bedouins…good thing they was ahead of us. Otherwise we might've… ." He couldn't finish.

"Walked right into that nest," said Derek.

"This is bad," said Leggy. "The road used to be kept clear of bugs, at least between Levitton and Moses Springs. We're gonna have to be careful."

He turned to Derek. "Where's the nest?"

"About fifty yards that way," said Derek, pointing north of the road. "I wouldn'tve spotted it myself except…"

"Yeah," said Leggy.

"I guess," said John, "I guess we gotta destroy it, right?"

"Bullshit," said Derek. I ain't going near that place. I say we pack in what left of these supplies, hitch up the wagon, and ride in style for a change."

"But it's the law," said John. "All bugs and nests are to be destroyed on sight."

"The law?" snapped Leggy, What're you talkin' about, boy? Since when is it a law to get yerself killed fighting bugs?"

"Since always," John looked confused. "It's been drilled into our heads since we were little…" Derek nodded and John continued. "The punishment for not destroying a nest is death.

"That's just crazy," Leggy muttered. Staring off into the horizon his eyes took on a faraway look. "I knew that San Nuyammo was the ass-end of nowhere, but I guess I've been fallin' outta touch..." he shook his head. "That's just crazy. We ain't goin' after no bug nest. That's suicide. We'll report it when we get to Moses Springs."

"Report it to who?" John asked, genuinely interested.

Leggy started to speak, but held his tongue. He looked back and forth between the boys. "Used to be, you could report these things," he said, "Time was--"

"I'm with the old man," interrupted Derek. "I know the law, but we're in the middle of nowhere. Who's gonna know if we don't snuff that nest?"

"But..."started John.

"But nothin'! Look, we don't know how big that nest is. Sure I saw a half dozen bugs, but there could be fifty more down in there. You wanna go poking around and find out?"

"But if we just leave the nest, them bugs'll kill the next people that come along."

"Well that's their lookout, ain't it? Besides, there's only four of us, and one ain't got no legs. How we gonna put up any kind of a fight?"

Leggy spat into the fire. He'd be damned if his legs, or lack thereof, were going to be the deciding factor in this. If the little punks wanted to get themselves killed out of some sense of... duty, he laughed at the idea, then he would not stand in their way. He had nothing to lose. "The way I see it," he said, changing gears, taking on a tone that he knew Derek would take a one of challenge, a dare, "Way I see it, old Teddy there is probably worth three men himself, ain't you Teddy?"

The big man grinned and wrung his hands together. "Oh yeah. I kill lotsa bugs, Der. You see."

Leggy turned to Derek. "I take it you've searched the wagons."

"Yeah," said Derek sullenly.

"If memory serves, Bedouins usually carry firepots. I'll bet you came across at least two or three."

Derek's face grew flush in the firelight. "Yeah."

"Sticky fire!" said John.

"That's right," said Leggy. "We'll burn those fuckers out." He turned to Derek, "Unless you're scared, that is. We could always just go on our merry way," he chuckles and continued as if to himself, "You boys can't handle a few half-domesticated bugs, you're gonna love the Wasteland."

"You all are damn fools," said Derek. "Them bugs could have a twenty-mile warren. You chuck a few smoke pots down there and we might have a hundred bugs all over us."

"Half-domesticated?" muttered John, incredulous.

"Smash, smash da buggies!" chimed Teddy.

"Guess we'll have to find out then, won't we?" said Leggy. He wheeled away from the fire to root through the supplies that Teddy had arranged into piles.

"You're mad," said John.

"Well, it's your damn law," Leggy wheeled around and pointed an accusing finger at the boy. "Derek and I were willing to just leave well enough alone!"

"It's not my law," said John defensively, it's the law."

"Then it's settled," Leggy clapped his hands together and smiled insanely.

"Yeah, well there's one more thing," said Derek, getting up from his seat. He led them to the only wagon that remained standing. A pair of mules were hitched nearby, flanks still trembling in fear. Like all Bedouin wagons it was covered, tent-like, in a dusky grey cloth, serving both as transportation and shelter for the traders. Derek undid the snaps that held the grey cloth closed at one end and threw the flaps aside.

Inside the wagon tent two bound figures lay propped on a thick, intricately woven rug. Their faces were swaddled in burnooses, but Leggy judged them to be an adult and a child by their size.

"Are they alive?" asked John.

"Yup," said Derek. He climbed into the wagon and unwound the burnoose from the adult. Dark hair cascaded from the white cloth. Leggy gasped. It was a woman. She regarded the strangers carefully with coal-black eyes. John stared in disbelief. He'd never seen a Beduoin uncovered. Everyone said that's because they were muties, permanently scarred and decrepit from chemical fallout and radiation sickness. But the woman's face was well-formed, her caramel skin free of scabs and scars. Derek unwound the burnoose on the smaller figure to reveal the face of a boy, also free of blemish.

"She says her name is Raina," said Derek. "And that's her son, Tariq. They was the only ones the bugs didn't get--thanks to Teddy and me."

"Why do you have them tied up?" asked Leggy.

"Because they owe us," said Derek. "If Teddy and me hadn't smashed that bug and chased off the rest, these two here would be under ground right now with the rest of 'em. I tied them up to make sure they didn't slip away while I was waitin' for you two to show up."

"That was unnecessary," said Raina. Her voice was cracked with thirst, but otherwise strong and clear. "We know our debt to you and we would honor it."

"Sure," said Derek darkly. "I'll trust kidnappers and slave traders to keep their word."

Raina shrugged. "The man-child came to us."

Derek struck her across the face. Tariq shouted in his own language and struggled against the ropes to get to his feet. Derek put a boot on the boy's chest and forced him back to the floor.

"He's feeble," hissed Derek. "He's not responsible for his actions. You tied him to a mule and dragged him like a goat. You'dve sold him in the market at Moses Springs."

Raina looked up at him impassively. It was true.

"I should cut your throats right now and leave you for the vultures. Or the bugs," said Derek, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his knife. "Leave your bodies and take your wagon myself, sell it and everything in it Moses Springs."

"You could," said Raina, "but if you rolled into Moses Springs in a Bedouin wagon without us, or came upon another caravan, my people would kill you, no questions asked. That is our law. But if you leave us alive, Tariq and I will transport you to the city and pay you what you've earned."

"Or I could burn your wagon down with you in it," said Derek.

"You could," agreed Raina, "but that would be foolish. Are you a fool?"

"I'd be a fool to trust you," said Derek.

"No," said Raina. "Understand that my people are opportunists. Yes, we took the man-child to sell. It's business, eh? But once we give our word, we keep it. We must, because who would trade with us if it were otherwise?"

Derek glared at the woman for a moment, angry that he was unable to intimidate her. Then he spun on his companions.

"Leggy, you're a man of the world. Is she a lying whore?"

"Who can say," said Leggy. "But I'll tell you this--I've never known a Bedouin to welsh on a deal. And another thing: on foot it's a ten-day journey to Moses Springs. By wagon, it's four. After Moses Springs come the mountains. There won't be any more wagons. I say ride while we can."

"Me too," said John.

"Yeah Der-der!" said Teddy excitedly. "Wanna ride in the tent! My feetsies hurts."

"Fine," said Derek quietly. He turned to the bound traders. "But if I catch you tryin' to fuck with us in the least, I'll kill you." He stalked out of the wagon and into the darkness, leaving Leggy and John to deal with the Bedouins. John undid the ropes and Leggy fetched them some water.

That night, after Raina cooked a strange-tasting stew over the cookfire, the crew threw themselves willingly into their bed rolls. All except Derek. He watched the sleeping figures of Raina and Tariq and scratched at the ground with his knife until a harsh red light touched the eastern rim of the horizon. He got up and poked at Leggy's side with his boot.

"C'mon, old man. Get up. Let's kill them bugs and get the hell out of here."

HOME

CONTENTS