Journey Through Chaos: The Badlands

By Ward Williams

This book is a sequel to Journey Through Chaos: The Valley. The author recommends that you read The Valley first because many of the characters in this book were introduced there. However, you will find enough background information to follow the story in this book so it is not absolutely necessary. A synopsis of the first book follows:

After concealing their true financial instability to the world for a decade, the Chinese government implodes, triggering severe global economic crises and panic. Rioting, chaos, and ultimately anarchy breaks out in the U.S. as it experiences the sudden and complete collapse of banks, stock markets, and all major business enterprises twice as bad as the Great Depression. One man anticipates this chaos and prepares a journey to a safe haven in a valley just two hundred miles away. The rapid disintegration of government control puts him in grave danger but also brings several strangers into his life who help him fight his way to the valley. Grant is a widower, a student of history and has no experience at handling violent situations. However, circumstances rapidly put him in kill or be killed situations, forcing him to do anything to survive. Along the way, two other couples, whose relationships have just been forged in the chaotic new world, team up with Grant and a young woman he meets to travel to what they hope will be a peaceful sanctuary. If only that were true....

Grant and his new friends survive two vicious attacks by outlaws and manage to usher in a new era of peace in their valley. He and Cheryl settle in, begin farming, and dream of setting up their own vineyards for winemaking. Everything seems to be going well until some mysterious visitors keep turning up and asking questions about who led the fight against the outlaws two years ago. Acting on a tip from their itinerant peddler, Izzie, Grant and Luke travel to the Oklahoma Badlands to investigate who is sending these spies. They arrive soon after a deadly attack by a large outlaw gang on some locals who live in a valley that is eerily similar to theirs.

Grant and Luke pitch in to help the valley citizens defend themselves but then they must fight their way back to Arkansas to warn their own neighbors of a new threat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098309190

Book preview

Author

1

Cheryl Robinson started the day with her usual routine. Clean her face, make coffee, cook some eggs and bacon. Eat. Start the chores by feeding the chickens, checking her garden for pest damage, and checking the traps to see if any small critters were caught. Next she saddled up for a ride down to the valley farm to see how Bobby and Charlie were doing. It was so unlike her previous life before Chaos and before she fell in love with Grant. She used to work in a corner office in a steel and glass high rise office building with a view of the Arkansas River. Making full partner by age 32 in one of the most prestigious landscape architect firms in the South, she was well on her way to becoming a millionaire. She had been featured in Southern Living magazine twice. Once for her home garden layouts and once for a landscaping design on a premier golf course. Her business was booming. The local charities were calling her constantly for help in sponsoring or hosting various fund raisers targeting the elite of Little Rock. It didn’t hurt that she was very attractive, with dark hair, green eyes, a petite figure and lithe body honed by years of marathon running.

There were only two flaws in her life back then. The live-in boy friend who couldn’t seem to get his sports agent career off the ground and the good old boys who ran her firm. The boy friend drank too much and hung out with his buddies in the local sports bars. She suspected he might be alley-catting on the side but had no proof besides the recent slump in their sex life. The senior partners at her firm ignored her input on planning matters and generally excluded her from their after hours socializing with rich clients. They didn’t seem to mind keeping all of the money she was bringing in, though. If you didn’t stand up to piss, there was just no respect given. She had only been offered a partnership when she threatened to open up her own shop.

The outbreak of worldwide financial failure known in the media as Chaos brought a total disintegration of the U.S. economy and changed everything in a matter of months. Her firm closed due to a lack of business. With some encouragement from her, the boy friend left town. After chaos and anarchy broke out, Cheryl had suddenly found herself on the road, with a few belongings, running away from a city that was filled with looters and burning buildings. She had very little money, no supplies or weapons, and no plans. That was when she made what, in hindsight, proved to be a reckless decision to stop at a looted out Wal-Mart in search of some portable food and camping items. The store was dark and cluttered with unwanted items left behind by looters. She was scanning the aisles with her flashlight when she spotted a man by a sleeping bag who was urinating into a pot. He started chasing her, along with two of his friends. It was obvious what they wanted from Cheryl and she was desperate to get out of there.

That was when Grant showed up. He was looking for dog biscuits for his yellow Labrador, Rufus, and batteries for his flashlights. He just happened to be carrying a shotgun with him. Their first meeting didn’t go so well since she mistook him for a bad guy, slashed his leather jacket with a knife and knocked him down with a leg sweep. Her Taekwondo instructor would have been so proud of her. Right after that, he started shooting at her would-be rapists and she realized her mistake. She laughed to herself at what a terrible way to find the love of your life. Fortunately, he didn’t hold it against her.

Grant had turned out to be a widower who had lost his wife only two years ago. They had been married for thirty years and he was still mourning her. At first she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was direct, but not abrasive, and kind, but not soft. He did nothing to try to impress her, which impressed her even more. On the way to this valley, they had stopped at his sister’s ranch. After a visiting with Jeannie, his sister, she found out a lot of things about him that Grant was too modest or too private to share. At first she found herself attracted to his character and good natured way of relating to her. Gradually, this turned into a physical attraction. Of course, she had to argue herself out of the imagined problems with the age difference. Once past that, she fell in love for the first time in her life.

Her life was now totally different but oh, so wonderful! She had a man in her life who valued her and treated her like a full partner. Their sex life was pretty awesome too. It didn’t matter to her that he was nearly twenty years older. They didn’t always agree on everything but argued it out like adults without belittling each other. She looked forward to getting up with the chickens every morning, taking care of their mountain home and now, having her own farm to test her theories in natural, organic farming techniques.

Her musings were disturbed by a shout from behind her. It was Darla Herndon, one of her best friends, out for a morning ride.

The two friends rode side by side catching each other up on the local news and gossip. Darla was very involved in helping Charlie plan her wedding and wanted Cheryl to add some touches to the outdoor event. She was also after Cheryl to help her develop a line of natural cosmetics made from local flora and possibly reduced animal fat. Her private supply was getting low and she was pretty sure the women of the valley had nothing or were hoarding what little cosmetics they had left. After all, this was a Southern state and southern women, even in the country, viewed cosmetics as a necessity. Cheryl was intrigued by the idea of organic cosmetics and promised to give it some thought.

Darla suddenly twisted in her saddle and winced. Cheryl knew that she experienced sudden twinges of pain left over from the gunshot wound she had gotten. At the time, Darla was charging down a hillside with her hunting rifle trying to protect Cheryl and Grant who had been suddenly attacked by some violent outlaws. Cheryl had been shot through the shoulder. In her case the bullet exited cleanly, leaving a puckered scar but no lingering problems. Darla was shot through a lung, nearly died and had to be flown out by helicopter to a Fort Smith hospital. She had three surgeries, including one to reconstruct part of her right breast. She also lost one of the lobes of her lung.

Outwardly, Darla was a beautiful woman, who happened to have a doctorate in psychology. Before Chaos, she had a very successful therapy practice in Dallas. Looking at her blue eyes, blonde hair, and fabulous figure, you would never guess she was a deadly shot who had killed men in gun battles.

Cheryl noticed that Darla never rode anywhere without taking her pistol and rifle. The rifle was in a leather scabbard within easy reach and the semi-automatic pistol was in a shoulder holster. Of course, if asked, she would shrug and say she was just prepared to kill any varmints or deer they might run across. They certainly weren’t expecting any trouble today.

Cheryl was telling Darla about Grant’s scouting trip to Oklahoma with Luke. They’ve been gone three days and I already miss him. I know they’re both capable of taking care of themselves but these rumors about a new group of bandits are pretty scary. I’m not sure the Valley Militia bunch is taking it as seriously as Grant. They haven’t had a training drill in over four months.

What about these creepy guys who have been drifting into the valley?

Grant thinks they are advance scouts for some sort of outlaw group but not everyone agrees with him. That’s why he decided to go investigate.

Who’s in charge of the militia while he’s gone?

Jerry Bearkiller, but he’s not terribly gung ho about calling meetings or scheduling training drills.

Darla summed it up, saying It is what it is. Not much we can do about it today, is there?

Right you are, Darla my friend. So let’s give these horses some exercise! With that, Cheryl spurred her horse into a gallop and Darla did the same.

On the hill ahead of them, two young men, watched both women ride toward them with binoculars. The larger of the two commented to his companion about how hot both of them were. The shorter man nodded and asked him if he was up for some pussy.

You know that’s against our orders. Colonel Bates would have us skinned.

How’s he gonna know, Larry? He’s still three hundred miles away.

Larry grinned and reached into his saddle bag for a flask, handing it to the other. Take a swig. It’s good Tennessee whiskey. I stole it myself.

The larger man took a couple of hard pulls and swallowed. He handed the flask back to Larry who knocked back an even bigger swig. They both looked at each other, grinned, and spurred their horses down a side trail to head off the women.

2

Grant Watson had plenty of time to think while rolling down I-44 towards the Wichita Mountains in southwest Oklahoma. Wichita, he reflected, was like the name Ouachita in Arkansas. Probably both names are a corruption of Native American names going back to the seventeenth century explorers. In pre-Chaos days, this trip would have taken only a matter of hours. He had watched the scenery change from rolling hills to rugged mountains and rock formations. Passing many deserted casino buildings, he wondered how the native American tribes were faring without all the gambling revenue.

The sun was now going down on the second day since leaving the Valley he lived in. The trip had been extremely windy, blowing even his large Hummer sized SUV and horse trailer all over the road. Besides that, there was the occasional stalled 18 wheeler or some other extra wide load which partially blocked the three lane interstate they had been traveling on. In the post-Chaos era there was no funding, and no government infrastructure to provide any form of highway maintenance. He wondered if all of the people who used to bitch about too much government interference were rethinking their position. Pretty soon the days of big government would be fondly remembered and greatly missed. Only two years after federal, state, and local governments had collapsed, Grant had to worry about deteriorating concrete in the highway surface and overpasses. Not to mention the road repair sites that had been torn up then abandoned. Frequently he slowed down to 10 mph while he scanned the roadway ahead, looking for potholes and debris. Once, he had to cross the median and travel on the opposite highway because a huge truck had skidded sideways on a bridge and been abandoned there. Two years ago this would have been suicidal given the high volume of eastbound traffic. Now, it was just vaguely uncomfortable.

As they approached the exit leading to their destination, his anxiety rising, he was having second thoughts. Was this trip a fool’s errand? Were they needlessly jeopardizing their lives based on flimsy rumors? The bleak and rugged countryside only increased his sense of doom. This area was originally populated by outlaws and renegades in the years after the Civil War. It became known as the Oklahoma Badlands due to the rough, mountainous terrain and the equally rough desperados that lived there. Judge Isaac Parker of Fort Smith, known as the Hanging Judge, presided over this area when it was still a territory. Many an outlaw found refuge here and quite a few U.S. Marshalls were killed trying to bring them to justice.

He hoped he didn’t regret the decision to come here. Things are going so well in their little valley since the bandits’ attempted raid over a year ago. Grant had become prosperous by managing the valley’s bartering system, acquiring a surplus of trade goods. Cheryl’s classes in advanced agronomy had also paid off. Expanding their existing chicken coops and garden was not possible on the limited mountain acreage surrounding his cabin so he had made an offer to purchase or lease some bottom land by a creek in the valley floor. The owners were elderly and looking for a way to afford moving to a nearby town to be close to children and grandchildren. It was a win-win for both parties and the deal was soon concluded, giving Grant about 165 acres of prime farm land.

His next step was to turn the farm management over to Cheryl, who promptly hired their young friend Bobby, to provide the labor with a promise of a sharecropping arrangement in the future. It seems Bobby had recently proposed to another close friend, Charlie, and needed a home and some ability to support a family. Bobby’s mother had died from cancer several years ago and his father had been killed by outlaw raiders. Since Bobby’s father had rented his house and land, Bobby was left with nothing. Charlie was sharing a small cabin with Luke Cleburne, who had rescued her from a desperate situation and was like an uncle to her. She and Bobby were excited to occupy the old farmhouse and have a place all to themselves. Again, this was another win-win.

Pretty soon the land was tilled and planted with a variety of crops, some intended for sale and some intended for personal use. Grant had the foresight to carve out a few acres for a vineyard and some barley. By next year, he thought, we might have the beginnings of a winery and a brewery. Wouldn’t that be nice? Who knows, maybe some tobacco for cigars as well. The hot summers and mild winters in Arkansas could support all of these crops.

Grant eased down the off ramp into the fading sunlight. Reaching over, he jabbed Luke’s shoulder gently saying we’re almost there.

Luke was instantly alert, a lifelong and lifesaving habit left over from his experiences in faraway lands as a Force Recon Marine. Grant envied him that ability, knowing that it usually took at least two cups of coffee before he could reach a similar state of mind.

How far to the canyon?

About three miles Grant replied.

Good. I’d rather set up camp while we still got daylight and have a chance to look around.

Expecting some trouble?

Naw. Just being careful. Luke was a man of few words.

Their immediate plans were simple. Make camp, settle the horses in, scout around and then eat. Tomorrow they would conceal the vehicle and trailer with some camouflage netting, saddle up, and move into canyon country. At least, that was the plan.

They were losing daylight fast so Grant told Luke to go ahead and look around while he set up camp and got supper going. Luke nodded once, strapped on a holster with a Smith and Wesson .357 magnum and grabbed his Winchester. The worn, blued finish of the four-inch barrel on the Smith gleamed faintly in the remaining sunlight as Luke checked the load. After making sure his old, Winchester Model 1894 30-30 rifle was loaded, he set off in the twilight. He was planning on hiking in a rough circle about 500 yards out from the campground. The terrain was pretty rugged. Luke was familiar with the area since he had hunted it while supervising the construction of cell phone towers in the nearby town of Lawton several years before. Knowing Luke would be gone a while, Grant started some of his hunter’s stew in a Dutch oven over the fire, and settled back against his saddle in a half sitting, half lying position. Pulling on a blanket he dozed off in about five minutes, setting his internal alarm clock for thirty minutes.

Grant heard a footstep crunch on gravel. His eyes fluttered open, experiencing his normal disorientation after recovering from a nap. Expecting to see Luke, he was surprised to find three strangers visible in the flickering firelight. A tall, roughly dressed woman in dirty overalls and rubber boots kicked his foot hard.

You awake now, Mister? Where’s your partner?

3

Grant said nothing but remained still and checked out the others. As far as he could tell, there were only three within his immediate and peripheral vision. All of them were armed with either a rifle or shotgun. The woman had a nasty looking double barreled shotgun pointed straight at him. One of the men was also dressed in overalls grinning like an idiot and showing a couple of missing teeth. The other guy was looking around nervously, scanning the perimeter of the camp. Grant was beginning to think he was one of the principal characters in some kind of Oklahoma version of Deliverance. It was not an amusing thought.

I’m asking again, Mister. Where’s your partner? You keep stalling and I’m gonna blow your foot off.

From the look in her eyes, Grant totally believed her. Moving his hand very slowly under the blanket his fingers found his favorite pistol, a 9mm Russian made Makarov. He clicked the safety off, the sound thankfully muffled by the blanket. Ma’am, I don’t know why you’re pointing a gun at me but frankly, it scares the shit out of me. If you could just put that thing away, I’ll gladly answer all your questions. Grant hoped he was putting just the right touch on inflection and wording to make her think he was a hopeless greenhorn. It didn’t take much acting since that is exactly how he felt.

Please, ma’am. I mean you no harm.

The big woman started laughing in a harsh and unlovely way. Mean me no harm!? Mister, I don’t think you could harm a fly. She stopped laughing but lowered the shotgun and cradled it in the crook of her arm. Now, where’s your partner? We ain’t stupid. You got two horses and two saddles. Where is he?

Grant let his breath out slowly. He wished he knew where Luke was. His best guess was just outside the glow of the campfire with a rife pointed right at the unwelcome guests. That was probably wishful thinking though.

Truthfully, I don’t know. He left a while back to look around some. It’s likely he is right over there in the dark with a rifle pointed at your head. But that’s only a guess, you understand. Grant spoke in a low, cool tone and nodded to their rear.

All three of them jerked around toward the dark woods behind them. Grant sat up quickly and pulled his pistol out from under the blanket. Just then, a disembodied voice to their right called out. Actually, I’m over here. Drop those guns and put your hands high where I can see them.

The woman turned around and saw Grant’s pistol. She dropped her shotgun saying Do it boys! They got us covered too good.

The two men followed her lead, carefully lowering their guns to the ground. Luke walked into the light, motioned toward the camp fire and told them to clasp their hands behind their heads and sit cross legged on the ground.

After they were settled, Luke spoke quietly. Now, I know at least two of you have knives. Gesturing at the woman he continued And you have some sort of little hide-out piece, don’t you? The two men looked down like guilty children but the woman just held his gaze. At this point, Luke was just guessing but it looked like he was guessing pretty good.

What if I do? She asked. You gonna strip search me?

No thanks, ma’am. I’d just as soon talk a bit. Just wanted you to know why I ain’t lowerin’ this rifle yet.

Hmmph. Well, you got us, what are you gonna do with us?

Grant walked around to face her, his pistol half lowered, with his finger resting on the trigger guard. I’d always heard people in Oklahoma were friendly souls. Why’d you pull that shotgun on me?

She said nothing and gave the other two men with her a look that clearly meant keep your mouths shut.

Grant looked them over carefully. Despite his earlier impression, they didn’t look quite so dangerous now. The nervous one was young, possibly not even eighteen. The gap toothed man looked like he might be his father. His head was down in a submissive posture. On the other hand, the woman, who looked like she was part Cherokee, still held a defiant look. He decided to take a chance, putting his Makarov on safe and sliding it into his waistband. Luke backed away about five paces, placing the Winchester across his body with the muzzle resting on his left arm and the hammer still cocked.

"I told you we meant no harm. How about explaining what you are doing out here and why you needed to question me at gunpoint?

Silence greeted his question. He sighed and sat down, pouring himself a cup of hot coffee out of a thermos bottle. The stew was bubbling in the Dutch Oven and starting to smell pretty good. Grant noticed that all three of them were staring at his coffee first and then the stew.

Finally, the woman spoke. You first. As far as we’re concerned, you’re in our territory, trespassing.

Grant looked at Luke, who shrugged. Might as well, he thought. All right then, I ‘ll go first. We’re here trying to find out about a bunch of outlaws who may be operating in this area. We live in Arkansas and we’ve heard rumors that this same bunch has also been scouting out our valley for a possible raid. We think there’s a connection because we were raided two years ago but we were able to kill most of the raiders, and hang the rest. However, one got away and we heard he formed a new outlaw band and might be planning to give us a return visit. Grant gave them the abbreviated version. The complete story might have been difficult to swallow.

The two men gave each other a sort of surprised look. The woman’s eyes widened slightly for just a second and her mouth gaped as though she were going to say something. Grant shut up and let his words sink in. Luke gently let the hammer down and propped his rifle on a log. Pouring some coffee in a cup, he offered it to the woman.