The Broken Road

By Simon J Townley

Ten short stories around the themes of the wasteland, the post-apocalypse, spirituality, sanity, madness, war, enlightenment and liberation.
Stories in this collection include:
Remnants
New Recruits
Buried Deep
The Frail Man
The Secret Weapon
If You Find This...
The Patient
Die Again Today
Buddha on the Road
Children of the Dome

Remnants
Jimmy has spent his life scavenging through the remnants of the old world, living on scraps. He just needs one big find to set him up...

New Recruits
Two teenagers are itching to join the revolution. But first, they must escape their parents.

Buried Deep
Deep underground in the government bunker, the authorities are restless. It’s been five years, with no news, no communications. Is the war over? Did the world survive? Time to send a soldier to the surface to bring back intelligence. If he can get there.
Above ground, two young men on guard duty hear ominous sounds coming from below.

The Frail Man
Who survives when the storm comes?
Barlow leads his gang of raiders into the Welsh mountains, looking for Eldorado - a mythical community where some say food still grows, where children are conceived. Where people smile. He knows there’s some deeper secret, a source of wealth or power that he can seize for himself. If only he can find it.

The Secret Weapon
In a fallen world, an outpost of civilisation searches for a weapon that will save them from the wild raiders. Can they rediscover the old magic, the weapons that destroyed their world?

If You Find This...
Sometimes the most dangerous people are the ones who most fervently want to help...

The Patient
Who is the strange man sitting alone on the park bench, staring at the trees? What goes through his mind? Is he mad? Or dangerous? Or sick? And is it contagious?

Die Again Today
Rescued from drowning, trainee doctor Sarah finds herself on board the yacht of an obsessive billionaire. He has saved her life, but now he wants answers to the most important questions of all: what lies beyond the grave, and can he take his money with him?

Buddha on the Road
Harlow wants to put the war behind him and forget about conflict and violence. But can he turn his back on confrontation? And when a new enemy appears, can his fragile sanity survive?

Children of the Dome
There’s nowhere to run, when war comes ....
When soldiers attack the dome where they have lived all their lives, two teenagers, Michael and Sarah, escape to the outside world, desperate to get away from the gunfire, the explosions, the screaming. But what will they eat and where will they find shelter in this strange environment? Can they ever go home? And who will teach them to live in the wild?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon J Townley
• Release date: Feb 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301479061

Simon J Townley

Simon Townley is the author of the acclaimed slipstream / speculative novels ‘Lost In Thought’ and ‘Ball Machine’, and has written a range of cross-genre novels for both adults and young adults, including prehistoric fiction series ‘A Tribal Song – Tales of the Koriba’. The first novel in the series, ‘The Dry Lands,’ was published in 2012, with the second, ‘Caves of the Seers,’ scheduled for release in early in 2014. His sci-fi thriller ‘Outlivers,’ again written for both adults and young adults alike, is to be released in Autumn of 2013. This will be followed by the post-global warming, high-seas adventure ‘Among The Wreckage.’Simon has also written non-fiction, in particular on the subjects of copywriting and search engine optimisation. He studied English literature at the University of York in the UK and has worked as a journalist and copywriter for the past twenty years. He currently lives in Devon, England, with a woman, three cats and two Airedale terriers.Extended samples of Simon's books (usually the first five chapters) are available on his website at simontownley.com.

Book preview

The Broken Road

Ten short stories

By Simon J. Townley

Published by Beardale Books at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Simon J. Townley

Remnants

Jimmy clung to the bricks of the window-sill, careful to avoid any fragments of broken glass, his feet dangling over the drop. He looked over his shoulder and down. No more than twelve feet. Below him, off to his right, was a gap, clear of metal and rusting machinery. He shuffled along the ledge, swung his body and dropped, bending his knees ready for impact.

I’m down. It’s all right.

He heard Tom yell from the roof. Marcus appeared in the hole above, crawling to the edge and getting ready to drop.

Jimmy turned his attention to the scrap around him. He kicked at a rusted mass of metal. Hard to tell what it had been. Not much use now. Not even worth the effort of salvage.

Good pieces of metal were always needed. He could get a day’s worth of food for what he could carry off in one load. But not from this lot. Salvagers had been here before. The treasures had been looted, and only the useless junk was left.

It’s a waste of time, he yelled towards the roof.

Marcus was down on the floor of the old factory, climbing over wooden boxes, searching for anything they could trade: old light bulbs, pieces of wire, rope. Once they had found a tool box, full of old-world stuff that Jimmy didn’t understand and couldn’t see a use for. But the traders had eyed it greedily, trying to cheat them for sure, but they got a good deal in the end.

It was dark in the factory, the only light coming through the glassless windows on the second floor and a few scattered holes in the roof. Jimmy could hear Tom up there, running back and forth on the tiles. He shouted up to him to be careful. He hated having to drag his younger brother everywhere. The lad was only eleven, and didn’t know any better. But there was nowhere safe to leave him.

Over here, Marcus called. Jimmy headed towards the voice.

Marcus and Jimmy were both fifteen and had worked the old sites together for three years, since they got away from the Knowle gang. They’d fled the forced labour, and ended up doing the exact same work. Picking over the remnants of the old world was the only way they knew to make a living.

Things must have been great back then, Jimmy thought, when people could still make things. Why’d they waste it all, he often asked. But he didn’t expect answers. He’d seen enough of people, in the raw, to know where the problems started.

It’s a torch. I’ve seen ‘em before. Marcus held up the flashlight proudly, jabbing at the switch. It didn’t work. Nothing worked, not any more. Marcus pulled at the cover and ripped it off.

Jimmy peered in. The batteries had leaked all over the insides. No matter. There were no batteries these days. Nothing that would ever get this thing working again. But the plastic, the glass, the bulb might buy a few mouthfuls of food somewhere. They’d have to take it to the city, find the traders who specialised. Hardly worth the effort.

Strip her down, Jimmy said. Carry the best bits.

On the roof, Tom was jumping up and down on the tiles. Jimmy yelled at him to be careful.

Someone’s coming, Tom shouted.

Jimmy and Marcus exchanged a glance. Getting caught in here meant trouble. There were few ways out.

Jimmy shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth: Who? What they look like?

Scavengers. Men. Six of ‘em.

Get down.

Jimmy ran towards the far end of the building. There was a door there. They might get it open, from the inside. Then they’d have to get Tom down from the roof and find somewhere to hide.

Marcus trailed behind him, hugging the flashlight to his chest, not willing to leave behind his loot.

They’re getting close, Tommie yelled from the roof.

Jimmy heard his brother’s feet scurrying across the tiles, then the sickening sound of breaking wood, and the crunch as the roof gave way under his brother. A shower of debris rained onto him, and Jimmy threw an arm up instinctively, turning his head away as dust filled his eyes.

He heard the smack of his younger brother hitting the floor, and knew instantly that he must be dead.

He yelled at Tom, thumping his lifeless body as though he could teach him a lesson, impress on him now, at this late hour, the need for safety and caution. Tears streamed down his face, and he hugged his brother one last time before Marcus dragged him away.

If the men caught them, they might be sold. Or worse. In this world, there was no telling what men might do.

"We’ve got to get out of this life," Jimmy said.

Marcus looked at him, the whites of his eyes a bloody pink, then turned back to staring at his shoes.

The two boys sat on a hillside overlooking the factory where Tom had died. They’d seen the men drag off the boy’s body, knowing they might eat him, or cut him up and sell him as lamb or chicken to an unsuspecting trader.

There ain’t no other life, Marcus said. Salvage is all we know. We can’t grow things. Got nowhere safe to go.

We could head east, look for that London people talk about.

It’s worse there, Marcus said. Worse than anywhere. That’s where it all started.

There’ll be more remnants there. Bigger stuff.

You said you wanted out of this.

Jimmy stared into the distance, looking over the outskirts of a town that had once been Frome. He’d known this place when he was younger. His mother knew people who lived here. Strange that he’d found his way back.

He felt a tear run down his face. He’d promised her, said he’d take care of Tom, look after him until he was big. He’d let her down.

He looked into the sky and mouthed a silent sorry, mum.

Marcus gripped his shoulder. We’d better get somewhere safe before dark.

They wandered the fields until they found a deserted farmhouse, the glass gone, the roof tumbled in. There were sheds out back still standing, and they slept the night, huddled against the cold, still dressed in their foul smelling rags.

We gotta find us a big treasure, Jimmy said next morning, as they ransacked the farmhouse for any sign of food. They caught three rats and cooked them over a fire made from rotten roof timbers.

One big find, and we could go somewhere. One of those communities, where they got food growing and houses and stuff.

They won’t let the likes of us in. Marcus guzzled on his rat, picking over the bones to get every last morsel of meat.

They will if we got treasure. That’s what I mean. We need something special, the find of a lifetime. We keep doing this, we’ll be dead soon ourselves, same as Tommie. One big thing, get us set up.

But there ain’t no big things no more. Anything good’s already gone. Marcus used a rat bone to pick at his teeth.

Jimmy knew the truth of it, but he kept thinking about his plan all that day. They headed west on one of the old roads, overgrown and pitted but still clearer and less muddy than the tangle of the countryside. The old city of Bristol was the only place they knew well. There wasn’t much left that hadn’t been burnt or picked over, and the gangs ran everything. But the boys knew the dangers there. They knew the back ways and the people to deal with, what promises might work, who would cut them a deal in the hope two salvagers would bring something worth having one day.

We’ll go see old Pinter, Jimmy said. He knows everyone. He’ll tell us what to do.

They made their way to the floating harbour in the city, made in the old times. It was long since emptied of water and had become a stinking pit where people defecated and threw their rubbish. Around the harbour area, makeshift huts and converted tumble-down buildings formed the main traders’ market. This was no gang’s land, a truce area where you could be safe, up to a point. During daylight hours at least.

Pinter’s warehouse was in an old rusting metal boat, sitting in the mud, lurched off to one side.

Lost your brother eh? the old man said. Well, that’s careless for sure.

Jimmy turned away to hide the water in his eyes.

You wants some big treasure then? Well there ain’t none. Nothing in this world. Not unless your fool enough to put in with the Nukers.

Nukers? What are they? Jimmy hadn’t heard of them, and they sounded like a gang from out of town.

They’re looking for salvagers for sure, putting the word around, Pinter said. But folks say it’s dangerous. Sick making stuff. It’s poison they’re looking for some say.

That don’t matter, Jimmy said. If you don’t drink poison, if you don’t eat it, it don’t hurt you.

Maybe, who knows, Pinter said. But they’re looking for people. You try ‘em, if you’re desperate, and tired of this life you’re leading. That’ll be one way out of it.

Where are they? Who are they?

Ask around, Pinter said, down at the market. They’ll find you.

Jimmy asked around, everywhere he went and it didn’t take long before he and Marcus were stopped at a stall and dragged away into a crumbling building.

Someone wants to see you, one of the men said.

They hauled the boys over to a table where a man sat, going through books, making notes. He wore glasses and a long leather coat. He had straight black hair that looked like it had been washed and combed. Even his leather boots looked new and shiny. This was a man with resources, even power.

You’re salvagers? the man said. I hear you’ve been going around, looking for us.

We were told you had work, needed people for something big, Jimmy said.

The man sat back in his chair and examined the boys. We might have need. But can we trust you?

More than we can trust you, I reckon, Jimmy said.

You scared at all, of going in places? We need someone brave, who’ll bring us something precious.

What like?

Just some metal. A small piece.

Gold is it?

More valuable than that, the man said.

He told them his name was Mr Johnson, but the men around him smiled when he said it, and Jimmy knew it was a lie.

You seem like bright boys, Mr Johnson said. We’ll need you to follow instructions, really closely. No messing around. You going to do what you’re told?

Jimmy looked at Marcus, waited for him to make eye-contact, to be sure he was okay with this deal.

What you want us to do? And what do we get out of it? Jimmy stood with his feet apart, a scowl on his face. He didn’t want this gang thinking they were dealing with someone soft, a clump they could cheat easily and then laugh in their faces.

You go in a place and get something for me, do just what I tell you, and bring it back out, I’ll pay you well.

It’ll be hard to find if you don’t tell us what it is.

I’ll tell you where it is, what it is. Hard thing is getting in there.

So what’s the reward? Jimmy was doing all the talking. That meant Marcus was unsure about this. No matter. If needs be, Jimmy could do it alone.

Mr Johnson reached into his coat pocket, and brought out a small velvet bag. He emptied the contents onto the table in front of him. Five tiny lumps of gold, three gems and a piece of amber.

Can’t eat that, Marcus said.

This is valuable. Mr Johnson pushed the gems across the table towards Jimmy.

He’s right. Can’t eat it.

You can trade it, for whatever you need.

No one wants that stuff, Marcus said.

Mr Johnson nodded to one of his men who put a briefcase on the table. What is it you boys really want? he said. You can’t live like this forever. You need a place to live, somewhere safe?

Maybe, Jimmy said.

Let me guess. You want to escape this life? We all do, but you’re young. Maybe you can do it.

Jimmy kept his eyes on Mr Johnson, waiting for him to finish.

There are places, in the mountains, the man said, in the countryside. I can tell you where. Places they’re growing food. I heard some have schools going for kids like you. You should go to a place like that. You take these, they’d let you in, let you join their community. He put his hand in the briefcase and brought out box after box, all small.

Jimmy stared at them, eyes wide. Medicines.

Next to him, Marcus gave a low whistle.

You take something like this along, and they’ll take you in, you’ll see, Mr Johnson said. Or you could trade this, anywhere.

Jimmy