The Day After Never - Nemesis (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 9)

by Russell Blake

  The woman waited for him and then led him down the corridor and up a set of stairs to a banquet hall bedecked in a manner that would have been the envy of a medieval king. Elijah occupied the seat at the head of a table that could have easily accommodated thirty, and Benjamin and three men Snake didn’t recognize sat near him. Candles flickered in the center to augment the soft white LED lights in the ceiling. The aroma of roasted meat and grilled vegetables infused the room, and Elijah gestured at one of the empty seats.

  “Sit,” he invited. Snake moved to the chair and lowered himself into it, and Elijah clapped his hands twice, signaling the wait staff to begin serving.

  Four youths, also all clad in white, wheeled over carts with stainless steel tubs containing a rich array of stews and cuts, and began doling it out to the gathering as Elijah beamed at the table. When they were done, he held out his hands and offered a brief prayer.

  “Thank you, Lord, for the bounty you’ve bestowed upon us. Amen.”

  Snake’s plate was loaded high, and he ate ravenously. He was halfway through when a messenger entered and whispered something in Benjamin’s ear. The older man’s expression darkened and he sat back. Elijah eyed him and set his fork down.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s Boulder,” Benjamin said. “We just received confirmation that a large group of raiders has taken over the town.”

  “Raiders! What do they want with Boulder? There’s nothing there.”

  “Does it matter?” Benjamin replied. “But it’s obviously a problem for us.”

  Snake took another bite of rabbit. “Why?”

  Benjamin shook his head, but Elijah ignored him. “Because that’s where we stashed the bioweapon. We wanted it far enough from Denver that it wouldn’t pose a risk if anything went wrong, but close enough that we could easily retrieve it.”

  Benjamin sighed. “We dispatched a group to get it a few hours ago. They ran into refugees on the highway who were escaping, and returned to get instructions.” He paused and pursed his lips. “This could throw a serious wrench in our plans.”

  “Any color on the situation other than the gang having the run of the town?” Elijah asked.

  Benjamin shook his head. “Just that there are hundreds of them, and they look like ex-cons. They’re raping and pillaging, which is driving out anyone who can pick up and leave.”

  Elijah appraised Snake thoughtfully.

  “Unfortunately, our people tend to look God-fearing and would be called out immediately. But someone who’s spent time around types like the raiders…could probably blend in without raising eyebrows. The…package…is buried, so it should be safe. The right person could slip in, retrieve it, and be gone before anyone knew what had happened. The canister is small enough for a single man to carry.”

  Snake blotted a spot of gravy from the corner of his mouth, suddenly conscious of his shaved head and myriad facial tattoos. “I suppose it depends on how tight-knit they are, and how big a group. If they all know each other, it’d be a suicide mission.”

  “You want to talk to the refugees?” suggested Benjamin. “They were headed this way. Shouldn’t be that hard to locate them. You can ask them the relevant questions and decide whether it’s something you could handle.”

  Snake debated telling the preacher and his quisling to pound sand, but thought better of it. The truth was that he needed them as much as they apparently needed him, and he suspected that refusing to help would spell an abrupt end to their hospitality, if not worse. His expression was unreadable as he pushed his plate away, his appetite suddenly gone.

  “Sure. Can’t hurt. If it sounds doable, I’m down for whatever.”

  Elijah’s smile lit his face. “That’s what I want to hear.” He looked over at the servers. “Save room for dessert. We have one of the best chefs in Colorado. He does miracles with what he’s got to work with.”

  Snake swallowed a dry knot in his throat and did his best to return the smile. “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter 24

  East of Price, Utah

  Lucas stood in the hastily erected command tent. His hat was soaked from the constant rain over the last three days, which had slowed the army’s progress east to fifteen miles per day. He’d called a halt to that afternoon’s trek when one of the wagons skidded off the muddy trail and slid ten yards down the side of the hill they’d been ascending, necessitating a lengthy rescue of the animals and cargo and ending the possibility of any further travel before dark.

  Duke and Lucas were deep in conversation when Sam entered, his trail coat slick with water.

  “Sorry to bug you, Lucas. But it isn’t looking good for being able to hunt for game in the downpour.”

  Lucas nodded, the news not unexpected, although unwelcome. Feeding over five thousand men was a logistical nightmare on the march, and even after stocking up on everything they could in Provo, the army had only enough provisions to last a week, and then both men and animals would begin to starve. Art’s plan had assumed that advance groups of hunters would be able to down sufficient wildlife to augment their rations, but for three days they’d had to dig into their stores, and Lucas was painfully aware that they were already running dangerously low – and they’d only been on the move for four days.

  “Is there a river anywhere nearby? Maybe we can catch some fish?” Duke asked.

  “Negative. Map doesn’t show anything worth riding to. Besides, we’d have to catch thousands of brook trout, and that’s not likely.”

  “The men have to eat,” Lucas said, and frowned. “At least we won’t have to worry about running out of water.”

  “Silver linings,” Duke quipped.

  “So I should give the go-ahead to the mess crew to prepare dinner?” Sam asked.

  Lucas nodded. “Yes. But tell them to be careful not to waste anything. At the rate we’re going, we’ll need every ounce.”

  Sam pushed through the tent flap as one of the lieutenants entered. “Some of the men got into a fight.”

  Lucas sighed. “Over what?”

  “Nobody’s talking, but one of them’s beaten badly enough to need the medic.”

  “Is he going to be okay to travel? We can’t afford to lose time over stupidities.”

  “Should be. He’s got a horse. But the doc thinks one of his hands is broken, and his jaw may be fractured. The others got broken noses and a few missing teeth.” The lieutenant shifted from foot to foot. “How do you want to deal with punishing them?”

  Lucas and Duke exchanged a dark look. “Put them on latrine-digging duty for two weeks. We can’t afford the men losing discipline,” Lucas said.

  “Will do,” the lieutenant said, and departed.

  Lucas checked the time on his mechanical watch. “I don’t know, Duke. Not sure I’m cut out for this. I’m a lousy babysitter.”

  Duke nodded. “Dealing with housekeeping and logistics are a pain in the ass, but you’re the boss, and with thousands of men answering to you…”

  Sam reappeared. “Ellis says two of the wagons are already coming apart. The axles aren’t taking the beating very well. And they’re seriously overloaded.”

  “What’s on them?”

  “Mainly provisions.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem after tonight. Shift whatever’s left over to the others, and tell him to do his best to salvage them for parts if he can’t repair them.”

  “I already did.”

  Lucas frowned. “Then…what?”

  “Seems like some of the men are getting sick. Could be the flu, or…well, something worse. A few are bad enough so they won’t be able to ride all day tomorrow. High fever, chills, the works. And if it spreads…”

  “How many are we talking about?”

  “Couple of dozen as of now. But at least that many more are starting to cough and sneeze.”

  “We need to isolate them from the others.”

  “And then what?”

  Lucas began pacing. “Ask the medics. I’m no doct
or.”

  Sam looked to Duke, who shrugged. “You heard him. Get a second opinion. Now…is there anything else?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, that’s it.” His gaze moved to Lucas. “I’ll take care of it, but I figured you’d want to know.”

  Lucas nodded. “You were right to tell me. Sorry I snapped at you. Been a long day, and the rain’s not helping.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Sam left, and Lucas eyed Duke. “You got anything I need to handle right this second?”

  Duke shook his head. “Nope. Only I think you need to delegate a lot of this crap. You’re going to go berserk if you get the call every time somebody sneezes.”

  Lucas gave him a dry grin. “You volunteering?”

  “I’ll want a raise.”

  They both laughed. “Say the word,” Lucas said. “You think you can manage some of the day-to-day? I trust your judgment.”

  “If you want me to. Between Sam and me, we should be able to handle the worst of it. Let you go back to thinking big commander thoughts.”

  “It’s not that, and you know it.” Lucas looked away. “No way I’d have signed up for this if it hadn’t been for Art. And I’m having second thoughts about twenty times a day.”

  Duke snorted. “That’s all? I would have guessed more like fifty.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin and thought for a moment. “Call your brass and let everyone know that I’m second-in-command for now on anything that doesn’t relate to strategy and tactics. That should ease the pain some. If not, start drinking, because it’s only going to get worse the longer we’re on the road, and we both know it.”

  “I appreciate it, Duke. I really do. And you’re right, of course.”

  “Do me a favor, though. Don’t let on to anyone else how you really feel. The men need to see a strong leader. If they think you’re just going through the motions, we’ll lose any momentum we’ve built…and this won’t end well.”

  “Will do. I’m just worn down, is all. Between Sierra and watching Art die…I’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I always am.”

  Duke made for the tent flap. “That’s more like it. I’ll let everyone know you want to meet in a half hour. That work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  Duke paused and looked Lucas up and down. “I wasn’t kidding about the drinking.”

  Lucas managed a tight smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Chapter 25

  Provo, Utah

  Violet and magenta streaked a dusk sky that was perfumed by wood smoke from a thousand cooking fires in wood-burning stoves. The avenues were empty, the pedestrian traffic over with the coming of night, and only a few horsemen on patrol were moving in the gloaming.

  Sierra carted a burlap sack over to one of three waiting horses in front of her house, tailed by Eve, who carried a bundle in her little arms. Sierra unfastened one of the saddlebags and wedged the sack into it, and was taking the bundle from Eve when Elliot’s voice rang out from the street.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Sierra froze and squinted at Elliot, who was approaching from down the block. She waited until he was close before answering.

  “Hello, Elliot.”

  Elliot nodded and tried a smile. “I’ve been watching all day. Lot of activity here. Boarding up the windows – you expecting a big storm?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “Lucas asked me to keep an eye on you while he’s gone. So I’m not prying to be a snoop – more to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “That was considerate of you, considering you’re responsible for him leaving.”

  “That isn’t true, Sierra. I gave him my opinion and offered all the facts. But he has his own mind.”

  “He’s gone, and we’re all alone again. How’s that for facts?”

  Elliot took a deep breath. “Can I help you with anything? Looks like you’re planning on being gone for a while.” He paused. “Where are you headed?”

  “We don’t answer to you anymore, Elliot. There’s no more Shangri-La. We’re just neighbors now.”

  “You’re packing up and getting ready to take off at nightfall, and I promised Lucas I would watch over you. If you don’t want to give me a straight answer, that’s fine, but I can’t see what it will hurt. It’s not like I could stop you even if I wanted to.”

  She looked down at Eve. “Sweetheart, would you go inside and see how Tim’s doing? We’re running out of time.”

  Eve nodded once. “Hi, Elliot. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Elliot watched the little girl pad back into the house, and then looked to Sierra with one eyebrow raised.

  Sierra squared her shoulders and looked away. “We’re going after Lucas. Before he’s too far ahead.”

  Elliot’s face gave nothing away. “I figured that might be the case. But you should realize that traveling with an army is no place for a family.”

  “So…what? We’re supposed to wait here indefinitely, wondering if Lucas is even alive, much less coming back? I’m supposed to put my whole life on hold and pretend I’m fine with that? Well, here’s a newsflash. I’m not. So I’m going to do something about it. I’m tired of passively cooling my heels while he’s gone. We’re going with him, whether you like it or not, and nobody’s going to stop us.”

  “Would it do any good to point out how foolhardy a single woman traveling with two children is? Assuming it isn’t obvious?”

  “The army will leave a trail a mile wide. We’ll travel at night, so we’re unlikely to run into anyone. And I’m not bad with a gun. Neither’s Tim. We’ve been practicing.”

  Elliot frowned. “Seriously? That’s your plan? You and a ten-year-old are going to hold off a gang of raiders in a gunfight?”

  “It will only be for a few nights. The chances of being attacked are slim to none.”

  He hesitated and studied the horses for a moment. “Is there anything I can say that would get you to listen to reason?”

  “I’m done with your kind of reason, Elliot. No offense, but the men make decisions like they’re the only ones with brains, and we’re supposed to grin and bear it like nice little Stepford wives. Not this time. I’m going after my man, and that’s final.”

  Elliot glanced at the AR-15 in her saddle scabbard. “This is madness, Sierra. We both know it.”

  “Maybe. But maybe madness is all I have left. I’m not going to spend God knows how long alone, waiting for word. Those days are done. Now…is there anything else?”

  He shook his head. “I know you well enough to know when your mind is made up. All I’ll say is this is a terrible idea. You’re endangering yourself and your kids on a poorly conceived whim. But it’s your call to make.”

  Her gaze hardened. “You said yourself that you can’t do anything for Eve. You don’t know if she’ll get worse or not, or even what the hell’s wrong with her. Staying here isn’t an option for me, and it sounds like a stupid option for her, too. Did I read any of that wrong, or does that about cover it?”

  “I’m not going to argue with you.”

  “Good. Now I’ve got to finish packing. Good night, Elliot. If you want to help, keep an eye on the house and make sure nobody loots it.”

  “Will do.” He exhaled loudly. “Go with God, Sierra. Safe travels.”

  “Thanks,” Sierra replied, her tone making clear how annoyed she was by Elliot’s interruption.

  Elliot returned to his house with leaden steps, his head down as though studying every crack in the pavement. He hesitated at his front door as though he’d forgotten why he’d come, and then pushed through it and lit a small lantern on the dining room table. He glanced around and his eyes settled on a bottle of drugstore whiskey in a plastic pint bottle he’d been saving for a special occasion. He approached it and lifted it in the amber lantern light, regarding it without expression, and then retrieved a glass from the counter and sat in an overstuffed easy chair an
d poured himself a tall shot of the copper liquid.

  The first sip burned like hellfire, and he sputtered and coughed before taking another mouthful and swallowing hard. Warmth spread through his chest, and he smiled sadly at the darkened living room. “What the hell is she thinking?” he muttered, and threw back the rest of the drink in one gulp.

  Silence answered him, and he poured another glassful, this time to the rim. He normally didn’t drink alcohol, but given his inability to do anything to stop Sierra from embarking on a disastrous course, it seemed fitting to drown his sorrows, drugging himself with cheap rotgut so he’d be able to sleep.

  When the bottle was three-quarters full, the lantern began to dim. Long shadows fell on the hardwood floor in the flickering glow, and he pushed himself to his feet and carried what was left of the whiskey back to the kitchen, weaving slightly.

  “Damn woman’s never been anything but trouble,” he muttered, his words slightly slurred. “You did your best.”

  He carried the lantern and the glass to the bedroom, his head spinning, and drained it before placing it on the nightstand and sprawling on the bed. After a long minute staring at the ceiling, he rolled to the side and extinguished the lantern, and then lay staring at the overhead fan until sleep arrived along with a rush of jumbled thoughts and a slight spinning sensation. He rolled onto his side and his breathing rumbled in his throat as a snore, the problems of the day banished, if not for good, at least for a few dreamless hours.

  Chapter 26

  Boulder, Colorado

  Snake followed two of Elijah’s gunmen, their horses’ flanks slick with rain from a morning shower and the trail beneath their hooves almost impassible from muddy washouts in numerous places. They’d been riding hard for Boulder since the preacher had assigned them to retrieve the canister, and Snake was already tired of traveling with them. One, a blowhard named Alex who claimed to have been Special Forces before the collapse, was hard to take for more than short bursts. His attitude was smugly superior when he addressed Snake, and he’d barely contained his sneer at the sight of Snake’s telltale prison tats. But Snake hadn’t complained or said anything, preferring to remain quiet and learn as much as possible from them without revealing any more than he had to.