The The Wasteland Saga: Three Novels: Old Man and the Wasteland, The Savage Boy, The Road is a River by Nick Cole Read Free Book Online Page A

gate, the double-barreled shotgun hovered a foot behind his kidneys. The rusty gate swung open and landed with a clank.
    “Move.”
    The Old Man walked to the edge of the pool.
    It was drained.
    Along its cracked concrete bottom, hundreds of snakes lay sleeping and lethargic in the cool predawn. Occasionally one moved. A corpse lay on the far side near the steps, what would have been the shallow end of a filled pool. Beneath the snakes lay more humps that might be corpses.
    As he neared the edge of the deep end, he heard Mirrored Sunglasses suck in air.
    Barely thinking, the Old Man twisted and stepped back as he saw Mirrored Sunglasses raise the shotgun into both hands across his chest and rush at him as if pushing a plow.
    Recoiling in horror sent the Old Man off the lip of the edge and saved his life. He fell and felt his hands grasping for the edge. A familiar childlike feeling as he found it. Then he swung hard into the concrete wall of the empty pool to hang just a few feet from the snakes.
    Above, Mirrored Sunglasses’s feral swear turned to a scream as the expected resistance remained unmet and he sailed outward above a snake-filled concrete pool.
    Hanging from the edge the Old Man heard the snapping crunch of a bone-breaking headfirst dive twelve feet below.
    The snakes, hissing, snapped on the attacker in the cool dark shadow of the deep end. Rattles raged in unison as the Old Man, head swimming, heaved himself over the side of the pool and onto the deck.

Chapter 11
    The morning sun found the Old Man in the office. Locked, he had broken it open with his crowbar.
    First he laid out his bedroll and removed the pistol. He checked the rounds within and then went back to the edge of the pool. Mirrored Sunglasses stared skyward, his neck twisting to meet his body. The snakes were already covering him, seeking his fading heat in the predawn chill of the desert.
    The double-barreled shotgun lay nearby.
    Salvage. But at the bottom with the snakes it is as good as gone unless . . .
    I could burn them.
    And damage the gun no doubt.
    He returned to his satchel and considered rerolling the bedroll with the pistol inside.
    There might be others here. Maybe if I am going farther into the wasteland I need to keep the pistol within reach.
    Once the office door was broken, the Old Man found a dirty kitchen at the back of it. It smelled greasy and old and like the snake he had eaten. Though the sink was dirty its faucet gave up a cool stream of clear water.
    Well water.
    He drank and drank again. He was still thirsty so he continued to drink. His head was clearing from the fogginess. Beside the sink, at eye level as he bent to drink, he noticed an old steak knife. A half-cut pill lay nearby.
    He drugged me.
    The rising sun turned the tiny office golden. Magazines littered the racks and the front of the office.
    Was Mirrored Sunglasses truly blind?
    What did it matter?
    For the rest of the morning he searched the office, which contained little in the way of salvage. Boxes of coins and paper money. A few tools, but the village had these tools and often in great supply.
    He took the cards that unlocked the rooms and went to the first room. A motel room like the one he had slept in. It was too bright to see if another message had been written on the ceiling. The other rooms for the most part were the same, except for the rust-stained bedspreads sometimes shredded and torn. One room seemed to be permanently lived in. The room Mirrored Sunglasses had come out of. He found an old toothbrush too disgusting to be used again. An abundance of clothing, crossing a spectrum of styles. Drawers full of medication from the year of the bombs. Prescriptions for people named Harriet Binchly. Or Kevin Adams. Or Phillip Nuygen. Take once a day with water.
    Sitting on the bed for a moment the Old Man considered returning to the office for more water. But then he felt he must finish the rooms first. Make sure the place was clear.
    This place is