A Tale of Jackson

Chapter 1

I quietly walked into the town with my pistol holstered at my hip, and rifle slung over my back. There wasn’t much to the town, just a few shacks and people looking at me as if they had seen a monster come walking out of the wasteland. Most of them, like myself, were old enough to remember the time before the bombs, while some of them only knew the world we lived in now. I got a lot of looks for my appearance, but didn’t mind it, I was here to help and made my way to the town’s only shack that looked like it would have some law.

The door to the shack opened with a slow wail as the rusted hinges moved. I stepped in and there before me was a man with his feet kicked up on a table, leaning back in an old chair.

“You the one they’re sending me?” He asked.

I nodded and closed the door behind me.

“Take a seat,” he offered.

I declined the offer and chose to stay standing.

“Why don’t you take off your helmet and mask?”

I obliged and held it under my arm, standing there as he looked me over.

“You don’t speak much, do you?”

“No,” I finally said to him.

“Well, that’s okay,” he said sliding his feet off the desk, “I don’t need you to talk a lot, just listen.”

He paused and went to light a cigarette. The smell of the tobacco brought me back to a time when my father smoked the same kind. But my father, and entire family, was now just a lost memory; the figures in them were faceless.

“We’ve been having some trouble lately, with some raiders. Been calling themselves the Axle Gang. Don’t really know where they came from, but I know where they are now, and what they’re doing. They’ve given us nothing but trouble, and I’m only one man.”

“So am I,” I said looking at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, but you’re one man within a certain kind of group. One of you is all I need, to take care of this Axle Gang.”

“Where are they hiding out?”

“Out in the wasteland, held up at the old junkyard. Don’t ask me why, I just followed them there one night. There’s probably only twenty or so of them, so you’ll have no problem.”

“Twenty? How well armed are they?”

He shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette.

“How well armed are they?” I asked again.

He looked up at me a bit annoyed and exhaled the smoke, his face told me everything about him, he had been around too when the bombs fell and the world changed forever.

“Well,” he said plainly, “but you’ve got tactics and logic. They have none of that.”

“What kind of trouble have they started for you?”

“They’ve killed several of my people, one such being an entire family of five. This Axle Gang has to be stopped, kid, they can’t be allowed to go on like this.”

I nodded and put my helmet and mask back on, not saying a word. We had no more business to discuss, so I opened the door and left the sheriff in his shack.

As I stepped out, the warm sun beat down on everyone it could. Luckily my helmet and duster kept me protected, and I didn’t much mind the heat. Everyone who was around, again watched me as I made my way to the junkyard that was well out of town, and near the outskirts of the old world town the people had come from.

“Hey mister!” A kid called to me. He and his two friends, came rushing over.

“Hey mister!” Another one said.

I looked at the three, not saying a word, but they caught on quick enough.

“You ever kill anyone with that rifle or that pistol?” The first kid asked.

“Yes,” I said walking.

“Ever killed an Axle Gangster before?”

“Not yet,” I said, my mask distorting my voice a bit.

“Well, you get them, okay. We don’t want them around.”

I smiled a bit and nodded to the kids before picking up my pace, leaving the kids at the edge of the small town, and hurrying to the junkyard this group of raiders calling themselves the Axle Gang, used for a base and home.

By the time I came into sight of the Axle Gang’s junkyard, I took it to be around 5PM, judging by the position of the sun which was setting quickly. There wasn’t anything around I could see but the junkyard and the small town that the settlers in the newer town had all come from. The small old world town itself was in ruins, with hardly a standing house or building anymore. There were some, but they had probably been worked over by now.

“Stop there wanderer, you’re trespassing on Axle territory!” A woman’s voice boomed, her voice warped by a makeshift megaphone.

I didn’t say anything, I was still well enough away that shouting under my helmet would have been useless. I got closer.

“I said, STOP!” She shouted.

The junkyard I realized, had been completely renovated by this gang. The old smashed cars, now acted as bricks to a brick wall, only this “brick wall” had gun-ports that someone could stick a rifle through. I stopped when I felt I was still far enough, but close enough to take a shot of my own.

“You there! Stop where you are, and don’t move! You’re trespassing on Axle territory!” She said again through the megaphone.

Suddenly the gate to the junkyard which was reinforced with metal plating, came sliding open, and out came four well armed Axle Gang members. All of them were dressed in rags, but each carried either a shotgun or hunting rifle. They quickly took up positions side by side, rifle or shotgun raised at their shoulder

“I’m here about a town!” I said to them.

“Yeah, what town would that be?” The tallest asked.

“The one just a few miles that-a-way!” I pointed in my previous direction.

“Oh, so the Sheriff couldn’t do it himself, huh?” The tall one said.

I wasn’t much in the mood for talk, and carefully reached for my pistol. At the distant we were at, my shots would have to be well aimed.

“Leave this place, and leave the town alone! I’m warning you, just this once, leave and don’t come back!”

“You don’t scare us!” The tall one said, his three buddies smiling.

“That doesn’t matter to me, if you’re scared of me or not, but if you don’t, you’ll surely die by my hand!”

There was a pause, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but suddenly the pause was ended with a loud bang and a sudden painful force to my chest. The rifle bullet had hit me square in the chest, and was a big enough round to knock me flat on my back. I gasped as it knocked the air clear from me, and I felt like I was going to suffocate.

“I think you killed him!” The tall one said.

I didn’t look, but heard the sound of footsteps and then the gate to the junkyard close. For a good twenty minutes I laid there, most of it trying to make them think I was dead while simultaneously trying to catch my breath again. Somehow I pulled it off, and when the sun went down and the night got dark enough, I slowly got back to my feet to check the damage done. I tore off my gas mask to get some air, and looked down at my chest.

Luckily the bullet hadn’t been too powerful, and only flattened against my chest armor. I plucked it off and examined it for a minute before I quietly hurried away from the junkyard, knowing what I would have to do next.