“That’s what I’m thinking. Can you make it down the ridge? We’ll be spotted a mile away if we stay on the highway.”
“Help me down. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Snake hobbled down the slope to the river, where Eddy stopped and filled his canteen before they crossed where a frontage road ran over the water. The smell of wood smoke grew stronger as they walked, until Eddy slowed and pointed at a plume of gray rising into the turquoise sky.
“I was right. Whoever’s here is cooking. You can smell the fish.”
“We need to play this smart,” Snake cautioned.
“How?” Eddy asked.
Snake thought for several moments and then explained what he wanted Eddy to do.
Eddy nodded. “That could work, depending on how many there are.”
“Just don’t screw up.”
Three young men were sitting by a fire with a skewer of brook trout impaled on a length of rusting rebar roasting in the flames. Two young children, a boy and girl with shocks of blond hair that matched the men’s, sat nearby, watching the sizzling fish with expectant expressions.
“How much longer?” the boy asked.
“Should be done in another minute or two,” one of the men said.
“I’m starving.”
“Don’t whine. Nobody likes a whiner.”
The men stiffened at the sight of a stranger walking toward them from around a bend in the road, his movements labored and his shirt and the front of his pants stiff with dried blood. They stood with their guns in hand, but relaxed when they saw the man wasn’t carrying a rifle.
Snake approached and stopped twenty feet away. “Howdy. Been forever since I smelled anything that good,” he said, his voice weak.
“What happened to you?” one of the men asked.
“Me and my family got jumped by some scavengers on the other side of the tunnel.” Snake hesitated. “They didn’t make it. I got all of the bastards, but one of them tagged me pretty good.”
“You walked from the tunnel like that?” the little boy asked, his eyes wide.
Snake tried a smile that was more pained than humored. “Weren’t a lot of choices. Either die on the mountain or try to make it down,” he said, and limped nearer.
“That’s far enough,” the closest of the men warned. “Sorry about your family, but we barely got enough to feed ours.”
Snake grimaced. “How about some water, then? You got anything to drink out of? Hurts something fierce to do it straight out of the river,” he said, circling slowly toward the rapids near the weathered dwellings by the bank.
The men conferred, and one of them nodded. “I suppose we could scrape something up. And there might be some fish we could spare. How bad you hurt?”
“Bad enough. But I’m not gonna lie down and die, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The man looked Snake up and down without speaking.
Snake tried again. “I got some ammo I could trade.”
“You don’t look like you’ll need it much longer, buddy,” one of the others said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s yours if you want it.”
The first man turned and began walking to one of the structures. He was halfway there when two shots slammed into his back and drove him face-first onto the dirt. The others were raising their rifles to fire when more shots rang out in quick succession, cutting them both down before they could shoot.
Snake drew his pistol as Eddy appeared over the ridge and moved closer to the boy, who was frozen with his sister, their mouths open in silent horror. Snake held the boy’s accusing stare for a beat and then shot him in the center of his forehead, and then did the same to his little sister.
As he neared, Eddy’s face was frozen in shock at Snake’s unnecessary execution of the kids. Snake eyed him and spit to the side.
“Couldn’t take the chance they tell anyone,” he growled. “Now quit pouting and see what they got in those buildings. One of them looks like it could be a barn.”
“If there are any others around here–”
Snake’s glare darkened. “Then you’d better hurry the hell up.”
Eddy jogged to the buildings, and Snake removed the skewer of trout from the firepit and set it on a flat rock. He glanced without interest at the dead men and the children and looked up when Eddy called out from the larger building.
“They got three horses!”
“Saddle them up and grab some grub, and then let’s get out of here before anyone shows up to see what the shooting was about.”
Chapter 38
Lucas awoke with a start. He was leaning against a log, his M4 cradled in his arms, deep in the woods on a hillside slope adjacent to the highway. He’d given up trying to continue tracking sometime after midnight when his flashlight had failed him and he’d lost the trail, and had resigned himself to sleeping until daylight, when he could resume his hunt.
Tango was cropping grass a half dozen yards away, and Lucas’s stomach growled. He blinked away the sleep and stood in the sunlight streaming through the trees, annoyed with himself that he’d slept past dawn, giving his quarry even more time to escape.
“Come on, boy. Time to go to work,” he said, and returned to the dirt track that paralleled the road.
The footprints resumed along the trail, and Lucas mounted Tango and followed them, occasionally daring to urge the big horse to a trot in stretches where it was obvious that the men had stuck to the path. After three hours he came to a firepit near the road and dismounted to study it. He placed a hand on the ashes, but they were cold, confirming that the men were long gone. He was turning away when something caught his eye: a strip of bloody cloth fluttering in the light breeze. Lucas studied the swatch and nodded before heading back to where Tango was waiting.
The footprints didn’t continue along the trail, and it took Lucas some time to spot evidence of their passage down the slope to the highway, where a coating of mud and dirt from years of disuse made following the tracks easy. He kept Tango to a sustainable speed so he wouldn’t ride into an ambush, and after another few hours stopped when the footprints veered from the highway and disappeared.
Lucas again swung from the saddle and searched for where the tracks resumed, and found them leading down a slope to the river. He guided Tango to the water and allowed him to drink, and then picked his way along the bank until he found footprints on the frontage road. Lucas followed them toward a rise before a bend in the pavement and frowned when only one set of prints continued around the bend.
“What the hell…” he murmured, and led the big stallion to the crest.
A string of shabby buildings lined the riverbank seventy yards away. A glint of sunlight on metal drew his gaze to a depression at the side of the road, and he crept toward it with Tango and scowled at the spent shell casings that littered the area. A cry from above drew his attention, and he watched a trio of buzzards circle before swooping down toward the structures.
The buildings appeared deserted. He raised his M4, peered through the scope, and slowly swept the surroundings. He drew a sharp intake of breath when the crosshairs settled on two tiny bodies, and he had to struggle to control his rage at the sight of a score of carrion birds feasting on their flesh.
When he was certain there were no threats, he made his way to the carnage. The scavengers soared into the sky with shrieks of protest, and he took in the grisly scene without expression. Lucas was no stranger to death, but sour bile rose in his throat at the sight of the two children’s bloated corpses, and he swallowed hard to avoid vomiting. The thought of Eve and Tim being subjected to the same fate flitted through his consciousness, and he shook his head to clear it before turning and walking to the buildings.
The first had been ransacked, and there were no weapons or anything of value left. The second, larger structure smelled of horses, and a cursory glance told him that it had been used as a barn. He spied a dark patch on the dirt floor and knelt to sniff it, and nodded – it was urine, a
nd no more than a few hours old.
He returned to the scene of the slaughter and felt the charred stumps of wood in the firepit. Warm, but it could have been from the sun. Still, his quarry had to have passed through recently; but they were now on horseback, judging by the tracks that led away from the massacre.
That would make tracking them simpler, but might also pose more of a problem since Tango had been on the move for days, whereas the stolen horses were likely rested. And the murderers would have no concerns about driving them as hard as possible, while Lucas had to be more conservative so as not to kill Tango from exhaustion.
He debated whether to return to the army and send a patrol after the escapees, but a final look at the dead convinced him that he couldn’t afford to delay. Right now he was at least reasonably hot on their tail, but by the time he reunited with his force and dispatched trackers, the killers would be long gone and the trail cold. He knew it was borderline irresponsible, but his instinct was to continue the pursuit before they could vanish for good.
He told himself that it was to keep the Crew thug from warning his gang of the army’s intent, which he would know from the deserter, but the truth was that he couldn’t allow child killers to get away with it. His stint as a Texas Ranger might have been in the distant past, but the character traits that had led him to the career wouldn’t let him abandon the hunt now.
Lucas tugged at Tango’s reins and directed the horse to the road. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see the return of the vultures, and pushed the thought of them rending flesh with their razor beaks from his mind. Though he would have liked to, there was no time to bury the children, so the hard dirt would have to serve as their grave and the cry of the buzzards as their eulogy.
“Come on, Tango. Let’s find these bastards and send them back to hell where they belong,” he whispered, and climbed into the saddle, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles looked like they would tear through his sun-burnished skin. He tilted the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the afternoon glare and quickly calculated how long he had until nightfall.
“Six hours, tops,” he muttered, glancing at his mechanical watch, and then spurred Tango forward, his M4 gripped tightly in his hand.
Chapter 39
Eisenhower Tunnel, Colorado
The troops had broken camp and were lined up at the western entrance, waiting for Elliot to give the order to march. He and Duke had entered the tunnel to retrieve the cylinder at first light, and had followed Lucas’s instructions in locating it and removing the explosive charge. Once they’d carted the weapon into the sunlight, Elliot had inspected it closely and frowned when he’d finished.
“It’s some sort of gas, obviously. A toxin. The markings make that much clear, but beyond that I’ll either need to find some way of analyzing it without killing myself and everyone around me, or of deciphering the numbered code that identifies it.”
“How?”
“A good question. Fortunately, I’ve got a lot of time to consider the problem on the ride to Houston.”
“They said it was a nerve toxin when the preacher’s dad was going to kill his followers.”
“That narrows it down, but only just. But fear not. I’ll figure it out.”
Duke looked away. “Still not convinced it’s such a great idea to haul that around the country.”
Elliot shrugged. “I’m with you there, but you never know when it might come in handy, either as a deterrent, or deployed.” He smiled. “Ours is not to reason why…”
“Meanwhile, our commander’s gone walkabout. Tell me again how that’s helping?”
“You know him better than I. Nothing any of us says is going to change his mind, so why fight it?”
Duke grunted. “Did Sierra corner you?”
“No.”
“She got me last night and gave me an earful. Apparently Lucas didn’t tell her he was taking off. She’s pissed beyond belief.”
“That seems to be a perennial state of affairs lately. None of our business.”
“I don’t like being read the riot act over something I didn’t do.”
“Sounds like I need to continue being unavailable. Better you than me, and all that.”
Duke threw him a dark look. “Very funny.”
They packed the cylinder in a horse blanket, slid it into a steel case that had housed several shoulder-fired rockets, and Elliot scratched his name into the olive paint with his knife. He and Duke loaded it onto one of the ammo wagons, and Elliot ordered the officers in charge not to touch the container without his or Lucas’s instruction.
They were finishing up when Sierra’s voice called out from behind them. “Elliot!”
Elliot fixed a half smile on his face before turning to where Sierra was bearing down on them.
“Morning, Sierra,” he said. “How’s Eve holding up?”
“Eve isn’t the problem. How could you let Lucas run off like this? Where is he?”
“Believe it or not, Sierra, Lucas doesn’t check with me before his every move. He felt it was urgent to track some escapees. He’s the boss. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”
“You could have talked him out of it. He’s only here because you convinced him. Funny how it doesn’t work the other way.”
Elliot took a deep breath, but his expression never changed. “Sierra, it’s obvious you’re upset, and I probably would be too –”
Sierra cut him off. “He never told me he was leaving. That was inexcusable. So don’t give me your condescending tone.”
Elliot’s face hardened, and he glanced around at the men, who were busy finding ways to avoid paying attention to the altercation. He took Sierra by the arm and guided her to the side, ignoring when she tried to wriggle out of his grip.
“Let me go,” she fumed.
“Sierra, let’s get something straight. You’re here because Lucas allowed you to stay. But that doesn’t give you the right to dress me down in front of anyone – it doesn’t give you the right to dress me down, period, much less when the men are watching. So can the histrionics or I’ll have you forcibly taken back to the children and kept under guard until Lucas returns. Am I clear?”
“You have no right–”
“That’s where you’re mistaken. I’m the commander of the army when Lucas isn’t here, so I have every right to decide that someone’s being disruptive or insulting, and sequester them as I see fit. So get your head screwed on straight or you won’t enjoy what comes next. There won’t be a second warning.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “If I were you, I’d make my way back to my family and thank God they, and you, are safe. Don’t ever pull a stunt like this again or I’ll have you bound and gagged. Understand?”
She glared in resentment at him, but remained silent.
He nodded. “Good. Now go see to your kids. We’re going to be moving shortly, and your place is with them, not here taking your frustrations out on whoever will allow it.”
Sierra swallowed and looked away. “I…I’m sorry, Elliot. My temper…I apologize. You just have no idea how hard it is dealing with him running off like this…”
“I can imagine. As a friend, I’m more than willing to listen, but when you come at me when I’m leading the troops, you leave me no choice but to act as their commander. Let’s leave it at that. Apology accepted.”
He watched her stalk back to where Ruby was waiting with the children and turned to Duke. “Make sure every wagon has its brakes in good order. It’s going to be all downhill from here, and we can’t afford to lose any cargo due to a mishap. Take as much time as you need, as long as it’s no more than twenty minutes.”
“Roger that,” Duke said, and issued instructions to the men. Elliot and Duke conferred for a bit while the officers went about their business, and when they returned and indicated that all was in good order, Elliot climbed into the saddle and pointed at the tunnel mouth. “Let’s get this show on the road!”
Duke mounted his horse
and twisted to Sam and the other senior officers. “You heard the man. Move out!”
Chapter 40
Central City, Colorado
Darkness was falling as Eddy lowered his binoculars and spoke in a low voice to Snake.
“Someone’s tracking us,” he said.
“You sure?”
“Positive. They’re good, but I spotted one of them skirting the road.” He hesitated. “They must be following the hoofprints.”
“Has to be the army.”
Eddy nodded. “Obviously.”
Snake looked around. They were in a gulch where a tributary highway ran north from the main thoroughfare, and several large buildings stood immediately ahead of them. Snake squinted and could just make out a sign in front of the first advertising a casino, open twenty-four seven, the lettering faded from the elements.
“We need to either lose them or ambush them.”
“Two against God knows how many doesn’t sound like great odds.”
Snake stared at him with feverish eyes. “We have no choice. I can’t ride another night.”
Eddy’s concern had grown throughout the day. Snake had been shivering in the saddle for most of the ride and had demanded frequent stops to refill the canteen and to rest. His temperature had climbed dangerously high by dusk, and the wound was now seeping odiferous pus, signaling that he wasn’t long for this world if he didn’t get help.
They’d decided to divert north along the smaller highway in the hopes that the trading post Eddy had heard about when he was in Glenwood Springs would have something to relieve Snake’s pain or treat the infection. It was a long shot, but its proximity to Denver meant that it might have a decent selection of meds from travelers leaving the city.
The trading post was still over a mile away, on the far side of Central City, and while they’d pushed the horses hard to make it before dark, Snake’s rest stops had delayed them to the point where they wouldn’t before the sun set. And now, with an unknown number of trackers on their trail, a pit stop at a trading post was impossible.
The Day After Never - Nemesis (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 9) Page 19