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

by Russell Blake

  Lucas raised his binoculars and scrutinized the remaining tunnel. A knot tightened in his stomach when he saw movement by one side, and then two men walked into view, one carrying a bulky roll of wire and the other a canister of some sort. They set them down by the tunnel mouth and called to someone he couldn’t see, and soon another man appeared with what looked like a suitcase, which he put on the ground next to the canister. The pair began a discussion with the new arrival, and one of them pointed at the tunnel mouth and then at the highway, obviously agitated.

  The new arrival moved to the wire spool and began uncoiling a length of it as the other two watched. After several yards had been freed, he laid it at the base of the tunnel edge and scooped loose soil from the landslide over it. The three regarded the area for a few moments in silence, and then more discussion ensued, until one of the original pair shook his head, dragged the wire free, and recoiled it on the spool.

  Lucas watched for ten minutes as the trio went back and forth, and then one of the men opened the suitcase and removed a blasting cap. He moved to the cylinder and, using wire, attached the cap to a small mound of putty on the threaded end of the cylinder where a valve would have attached. Lucas got a good look at the cylinder as the man worked, and could just make out the toxic chemical graphic on the side through the glasses, which told him enough to draw an informed conclusion.

  It was obvious to Lucas that the men were trying to rig an explosive device in the tunnel, and there weren’t a lot of reasons to do so in advance of the army’s arrival other than to kill everyone. He didn’t see how a single cylinder could bring the mountain down on them, but then he recalled Elliot describing the Denver madman and his nerve gas, and the pieces fell into place.

  The pair returned to the tunnel mouth after half an hour without the cylinder, and another animated conversation took place, which ended with the three men climbing along a trail that ran up the side of the mountain, toting the spool of wire. When they disappeared, Lucas crept forward, continuing to scan the area for anyone else as he neared the tunnel mouth. He reached it in less than ten minutes, and after a glance inside the dark tunnel, followed the trail the men had taken, guided by instinct rather than prudence.

  He saw nothing as he made his way along a ridge until he’d covered at least a half mile. Up ahead were the three men, leaning over one of the tunnel’s concrete maintenance ducts, the spool of wire propped against it. Lucas stayed low and ducked behind a tree to watch, and again raised the spyglasses to better see what they were doing.

  One of the men climbed into the duct holding one end of the wire, and the others fed it out until the spool was almost empty. When it held no more wire, the newcomer tugged on it and waited. Time crept by, and then the man in the tunnel reappeared, his brown leather jacket now smeared with soot.

  More discussion, and the newcomer disappeared into the shaft. He returned after five minutes and opened the suitcase, and then connected the wire to a blasting machine, whose purpose was unmistakable due to the wooden handle that jutted from the top of the steel case. After checking the connection, the man returned the blasting machine to the suitcase and closed the lid, and then said something to the others before turning and making his way back down the trail toward Lucas’s hiding place.

  Lucas crawled farther into the underbrush until he could no longer see the trail and waited for the sound of the men’s boots crunching on the loose shale. When all three had passed, he waited another half hour, remaining motionless, and when nobody approached, he squirmed from beneath the brush and hurried up the trail to the duct.

  He looked around to ensure he wasn’t being observed, and then swung a leg over the rim of the housing and felt for the top rung of the ladder that had to be there. He wasn’t disappointed and lowered himself four stories until he was standing on a walkway at the side of the tunnel roadway, the light from above barely sufficient to make out the wire that ran along the edge.

  The cylinder was wedged in a depression below an electrical junction box. Because of its placement, Lucas would never have seen it if he’d been riding through the tunnel, but by following the wires, he was easily able to spot it. He knelt beside it and studied the blasting cap, which was protruding from the puttylike substance, which Lucas figured was plastic explosive. The wire had been crimped into the end of the cap, posing little obstacle for Lucas, who simply removed it from the explosive, thereby defusing the device.

  He looked the cylinder over. The markings confirmed his assumption that it contained some sort of toxin. The intent of the explosive was clear – to blow the end of the cylinder apart, releasing the toxin and poisoning everyone in the area.

  He thought for a few moments about how to disable the rig without it being obvious should someone check it, and then he slipped his folding knife from his pocket and opened it. He walked thirty feet from the cylinder, knelt again, and sliced along the wire’s rubber outer coating for six inches. He felt for the metal core and carefully pulled it free of the insulation, and then sawed through it with the razor-sharp blade. Lucas repeated the process at the other end of the slice and removed the five-inch section of core, leaving nothing but the outer sheath.

  Lucas slid the copper wire into his flak vest and replaced the wire at the edge of the walkway. He squinted at it and grunted in satisfaction – nobody would find his modification unless they knew to look for it.

  He retraced his steps to the cylinder and reinserted the cap into the explosive, and then returned to the ladder and climbed back to the top of the shaft. He peered over the rim and surveyed the surroundings before pulling himself up and over, and then rushed to the trail and worked his way back down the hill.

  Voices near the tunnel mouth stopped him, and he froze at the trail edge.

  “We’ll have plenty of time, Benjamin. There’s no way we can miss an army of five thousand men. As long as the weapon is well hidden, they won’t suspect a thing.”

  “It is. And it’s black as pitch in the tunnel. Even with torches and flashlights, they won’t see it.”

  “They’d better not. This is our only chance. If it doesn’t do the job, we’re screwed.”

  “We’ll wait until they’re all inside. It’ll wipe them out. Maybe a few will survive, but if so, it won’t be many, and they won’t be in any shape to mount an attack on Denver.” A pause. “Even if they send an advance patrol, it will be all clear. They won’t see anything, and they’ll give the main force the go-ahead. That’ll be the end of them.”

  “I hope so. When do you intend to deal with the fool from the Crew?”

  “Once we’ve neutralized the army. He’ll be of no further use to us then.”

  “We have to be sure we finish him with no mistakes. Otherwise he could communicate with them, and then we’d be facing a war we can’t win. It would be safer to do it now.”

  “We may need a sacrificial lamb. We gain nothing by executing him before we’ve eliminated the army.”

  The voices faded as they discussed the murder of Lucas’s men, and when he couldn’t hear anything more, he resumed gingerly working his way down the trail. Once at the tunnel mouth again, he looked around until he spotted footprints that led off to the left. He followed them a quarter mile along a game trail until he arrived at an encampment. A quick sweep of the tents told him there couldn’t have been more than a hundred men in the clearing, and he nodded to himself. They were confident that they wouldn’t be doing anything but mopping up the stragglers.

  When Lucas returned, he’d ensure that misplaced confidence would be the last mistake they ever made.

  He hurried back along the trail and, once at the highway, rushed to where Tango was tied, his mind working over possible ways to treat the threat. The mention of a Crew fighter added an unwelcome twist he needed to think through. If Denver was in contact with the gang, it could pose a threat for Provo, and the army, that he hadn’t anticipated. He would need more information, or he’d be working blind – which could be disastrous if he missed
a critical element and led his men to the slaughter because the Crew had been forewarned of their approach.

  By the time he made it back to the army’s encampment, he’d devised what he thought was the perfect response, and he immediately called a meeting of his officers to order them to prepare to march so they would reach the tunnel well before nightfall and could eradicate the enemy force before it knew what had gone wrong.

  Chapter 35

  Snake watched the highway through his spyglasses, Benjamin by his side in a grove of trees halfway up the hill from the tunnel, where they could see any movement from miles off. They didn’t expect the army to arrive until the next day, based on the distance involved, but the older man had insisted that they play it safe and keep watch in case they’d underestimated the speed with which the force could cover ground.

  The skin on Snake’s arms tingled as a pair of riders appeared from around the bend.

  “You got that?” he asked.

  “I see them.”

  The riders pointed at the mountain that rose above the tunnel, and a wall of horsemen rode around the bend – a seemingly endless procession of armed gunmen bracketing a string of wagons. Benjamin lowered his binoculars and turned to where another man was also watching the army’s arrival.

  “Go let Elijah know that they’re here, and have Mark get into position with the detonator.”

  The man nodded and slipped away, leaving Snake and Benjamin alone. Benjamin raised his glasses again and continued to watch the tide of humanity approach, the men bristling with weapons, the ranks orderly in contrast to Elijah’s ragtag army.

  “Sure are a lot of them,” Snake whispered, even though nobody in the army’s ranks could hear him at that distance.

  “That there are. Going to make a hell of a stink in the tunnel when they rot.”

  The plan was to ride to Denver once the army had been neutralized and return with enough men to be able to harvest their weapons and ammo. The value of a mountain of ordnance was astronomical, and it would further bolster the church’s considerable riches as well as equip any fighting force Elijah managed to muster in the future.

  “How long you want to stay in place?” Snake asked.

  Benjamin frowned. “Why? You have somewhere important to be?”

  “Of course not. I’m just not sure where you want to be when the bomb goes off.”

  “We’ll return to the camp once they’re all in the tunnel,” Benjamin snapped. “Relax. We’ve got a front-row seat to the show.”

  “If anything goes wrong, we’ll be the first to die.”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong. They wouldn’t be riding here an hour before dark if they were worried about a threat.”

  Snake hadn’t shared with Elijah or Benjamin that Lucas’s group had successfully destroyed a massive Crew force led by Magnus, who was ten times the leader the preacher was, and that to believe the same commanders would stumble into an ambush and die without a hell of a fight was beyond optimistic.

  “You want to stick around, be my guest,” Snake said. “I’m going back to camp in case something goes wrong.”

  Benjamin lowered his glasses and leveled a hard stare at Snake. “You can’t. They might see you. We have to stay put now. You move and you risk giving us away.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Benjamin shook his head and one hand drifted to his pistol. “Negative. We’re to stay in place. Period.”

  Snake glared at Benjamin. “You can’t shoot me without them hearing, so I’m going to get out of here. You want to commit suicide up here, do it without me.”

  He crawled away, confident that for Benjamin and Elijah destroying the army was more of a priority than keeping him on the hill. When he was farther in the tree line, he got to his feet and jogged down the mountain, skirting the highway and beelining to the clearing where his horse and tent were. His plan was to be prepared to bolt if things went sideways. Beyond that he had no strategy other than to try to read Elijah and be faster on the draw than Benjamin if it looked like they intended to try to off him there.

  He stopped at the last point that he could see the approaching army and wondered which of the riders at the front of the group was Lucas, who’d proven to be such a formidable adversary to the Crew. Nobody jumped out – all were trail-weary men in riding jackets with flak vests peeking from beneath them, with nothing particularly noteworthy about any.

  Snake continued toward the camp. When he arrived, he spotted Elijah speaking to the two in charge of detonating the cylinder. Elijah had his back turned to Snake, so didn’t see him as he neared.

  “I don’t care what Benjamin said. I’m overruling him,” Elijah said, his tone petulant. “I’m going with you to set off the charge.”

  “It will be safer here,” one of the men said. “That’s why he only wanted the two of us at the shaft with the detonator.”

  “And if Benjamin was in charge, that would be fine, Mark. But he isn’t. So let’s move.”

  Elijah turned and seemed stunned to see Snake. His mouth worked without sound, confirming to Snake that he’d never expected him to make it off the mountain.

  “They’re almost to the tunnel,” Snake said. “Better get going.”

  “What are you doing here?” Elijah demanded. “Your orders were–”

  “Benjamin had everything handled, so I wanted to see if you needed any help down here.”

  “We’re about to go up to the shaft to finish this.” Elijah paused. “It’s good you’re here. You can come with us.”

  “I was thinking more of staying with the camp in case you needed help mopping up any survivors.”

  “If we do this right, there shouldn’t be many, and anyone who does make it will be incapacitated. That’s a waste of your efforts. Come on.”

  Snake glanced at the pair of demolition experts, who as far as he knew had no military experience. They couldn’t be in on any plan Elijah had concocted to eliminate Snake, and while they would probably follow orders, Snake was forewarned and could take them before they could react. That left Elijah, who was incompetent at everything Snake had seen him try.

  He liked his odds far better with the three of them than with Benjamin, who was as deadly as a cobra.

  Snake nodded. “Fine,” he said, shifting his rifle from his left to his right hand. “Lead the way.”

  They climbed another trail that wound through the trees to the shaft, the demolition team leading the way, with Snake deliberately lagging so he couldn’t be shot in the back by Elijah. When they reached the shaft, the men inspected the suitcase and the blast box connections while the preacher scanned the highway. Snake busied himself doing the same, their presence masked by the foliage and the trees.

  Lucas drew the column to a halt at the tunnel mouth and nodded to Sam and Duke, who rode to the rear of the throng. He signaled for an advance group to traverse the tunnel and check the eastern side for any threats, and followed the squad of a dozen men into the dark interior, LED flashlights in hand.

  Lucas resisted the urge to stop and check on the cylinder as he passed it, and continued through to the far opening, rifle at the ready. Once outside he scanned the terrain for a possible ambush force, and when he saw nothing, issued an order for the gunmen to stay in place.

  He rode back to the army and gave the word to proceed, and waited by the tunnel mouth as the mounted soldiers entered first, followed by the wagons and the infantry. The entire process took fifteen minutes, and when Sam and Duke arrived with the fighters they’d selected, Lucas motioned for them to follow him. Then he spurred Tango toward the trail, out of sight of any watchers due to the angle of the slope.

  Lucas drove Tango hard, and the big horse’s breath rasped from the sudden effort at altitude. Lucas stopped at the midpoint of the trail and turned to Sam.

  “Continue straight ahead. The camp’s about a quarter mile from here. You know what to do. I’m going up to deal with whoever’s at the shaft.”

  “I’ll go with you
,” Duke said.

  Lucas nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  They rode away, leaving Sam to lead the squad to the camp. They were under orders to wait to attack until the entire army was in the tunnel, which would be the earliest that the cylinder would come into play and when the enemy would be the most unsuspecting of an ambush. Sam had over a hundred gunmen to take on the prophet’s group, which should make short work of a force caught flat-footed.

  Duke and Lucas dismounted when Lucas stopped, and they tied their horses to saplings before creeping the rest of the way to the service duct on foot.

  “Stay behind me,” Lucas whispered. “They might be watching the trail. And hold your fire until I start shooting.”

  “You got it.”

  Lucas veered into the brush and picked his way higher up the slope, darting from tree to tree. Duke mirrored his moves until Lucas signaled to him to join him behind a thicket, where he lay on the ground, M4 in hand.

  Duke edged alongside Lucas, who inclined his head at where four men were crouched by the duct.

  “Wait until they figure out there’s something wrong with the detonator before we off them,” Lucas said. He regarded the men, and his eyes narrowed. “That look like the preacher who tried to take Provo?”

  Duke peered through his scope. “Yep. That’s him. Can’t miss that hairdo.”

  “That explains why he’s out to get us. Revenge.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “What about the tattooed guy? Seen him before?”

  “Can’t say as I have. Looks like one of the prison gang scumbags, though.” Duke paused. “Wonder what he’s doing with a preacher?”

  “Strange bedfellows,” Lucas said, then fell quiet when two of the men ran to the duct.

  They removed the blast box from the black plastic case and set it on the ground beside the shaft. Elijah stood and walked to them with his binoculars in hand, and issued an instruction. One of the men twisted the box’s wooden handle, raised it, and then depressed it abruptly.