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

by Russell Blake

  “Makes you wonder how Genghis Khan or Attila the Hun pulled it off, doesn’t it?”

  “Even more shocking that a thousand years later we’re reduced to the same level.” Elliot smiled wistfully. “Time has a way of knocking the wind out of you.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  A dark-skinned man in a wide-brimmed straw hat watched the army through binoculars from a water tower he’d been repairing, and slowly lowered them when the last of the army had vanished down the road. He glanced around the farm he’d coaxed to productivity in the face of everything nature could throw at him, and climbed down a steel ladder to the ground three stories below.

  Juan Cruz had migrated north from Mexico with his two brothers, and they’d set down roots in strategic locations as advance scouts for the cartel, whose long-term plan was to expand north and occupy a corridor that would control all travel and commerce between the west coast and the east once civilization began returning to the U.S. It was still early in the cartel’s timeline, but they had the benefit of patience and had already managed to take over the lion’s share of Texas in addition to dominating northeastern Mexico.

  “Carlos, I’m headed into town. I should be back in a few hours,” he called.

  A younger version of Juan poked his head from the front entrance of the clapboard house. “What? Why? We run out of solder?”

  “No. I need to check in and report something.”

  Carlos’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Might be nothing. But I don’t want to take any chances.” He told Carlos about what he’d witnessed, and when he finished, Carlos gave a low whistle.

  “Sounds like someone’s planning to start a war.”

  “Right. And they look like they mean business.”

  The appearance of an army with thousands of fighters, obviously well equipped and heading south, bore mentioning to his masters in Texas. Juan padded to the barn, saddled up one of his horses, and walked it to the heavy gate he’d mounted to keep intruders out, an assault rifle slung from his shoulder.

  Juan would need to ride an hour and a half north to the nearest radio, but it was still early enough in the day that he could do the round trip without risking riding after nightfall. Even this close to Denver there were pockets of opportunistic scavengers who would try to gang up on a lone traveler after dark, and he didn’t want to provide them an appealing target through carelessness.

  His mind churned as he swung the gate wide, escorted his horse out, and shut it behind him. The last time he’d seen a large fighting force it had been Elijah’s, which was of no interest to the cartel – it was common knowledge in town that they were going on a revenge attack against the group that had killed the preacher’s father.

  When the holy man’s force didn’t return, he heard through the grapevine that Elijah had badly misjudged what he was up against, and it had cost his followers their lives. That had only marginally intrigued Juan, who didn’t get involved in whatever the gringos were fighting over this month. He knew that raiders had taken over Boulder, and that the neo-Nazis in Colorado Springs were terrorizing the population, but he stayed clear of them except to occasionally trade some of his vegetables for their staples. If they minded bartering with a Mexican, they didn’t show it, and as long as he got a fair deal for his goods, he didn’t care what they did to each other. That wasn’t his fight, except to the extent that the cartel would need to be able to co-opt or eradicate them when they moved into the territory.

  This group hadn’t looked like the preacher’s ragtag collection, though. They had bearing, even at a distance, and marched with discipline, covering the ground efficiently. Juan had spied wagon after wagon loaded with heavy weaponry, which further concerned him. He didn’t know where they were headed, but if they continued to Texas, the cartel needed to be prepared, and he was one of their sets of remote eyes and ears.

  He reached an outpost in a strip mall in Littleton, tied his horse to a hitching post outside, and entered the shop, a simple-minded grin on his swarthy face.

  “Hola, Juan,” a heavyset man greeted him.

  “Hola, Señor Kennedy,” Juan replied.

  “What can I do for you today? Got something interesting to trade?”

  “I’m afraid not, Señor. I need to use the radio to let my people in Mexico know the family’s still safe. My mother worries, you know, and I promised her I would check in at least once a month.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Okay, you know the price. Ten minutes long enough?”

  “Si, Señor Kennedy,” Juan said, and counted out the requisite number of .223 rounds.

  “You know how to turn it on. Holler if you need any help.”

  “Will do, Señor. I’ll be quick.”

  “Take all the time you need. Your credit’s good, Juan.”

  Chapter 43

  Houston, Texas

  Julio sat at a table with two of his lieutenants, going over receipts for the week’s take. The air was thick with smoke and the pungent aroma of tequila. A knock at the door interrupted their counting, and Julio glowered at the guard who stuck his head in.

  “What? I’m busy,” Julio snapped.

  “There’s a runner to see you. Says it’s important.”

  Julio looked to his lieutenants and shrugged. “Send him in.”

  A sweating young man entered, hat crumpled in his hands. “We received a message from Denver, jefe.”

  “What is it? I don’t have all day.”

  “There is a large army on the move there, headed south.”

  “So? What’s large?”

  “Five or six thousand fighters. It was a guess, but they’re well equipped.”

  Julio frowned. “Colorado is a long way from Texas. What does this have to do with us?”

  “Possibly nothing. But our people there thought it was important enough to touch base.”

  Julio nodded. “Was there anything else?”

  “No, jefe. That was it.”

  “All right. You did your job. Now leave us.”

  The runner departed, and Julio sat back in his chair. Emanuel, his chief lieutenant, took a sip of tequila from a clay mug. “That’s a big force. If they’re headed our way…”

  “We’ll have plenty of notice to prepare. They’ll take at least a couple of months to reach us, assuming they’re coming to Texas at all.”

  Gerardo, the other lieutenant, nodded. “And we’re unbeatable now that we have fuel. We can intercept them wherever we like. With tanks, artillery, whatever is necessary.”

  Emanuel grinned. “True. But some good questions are who are they, what are they after, and where are they going. We have no enemies capable of raising an army of gringos that size.”

  “If they’re coming to fight, we’ll know well in advance,” Julio repeated. “More than time enough to pull more men from Mexico if necessary. As many as it takes.”

  “It’s been quiet here. Getting boring,” Gerardo said. “We could use some action. I almost miss the Crew.”

  Julio laughed. “Be careful what you wish for. We have watchers in New Mexico and Oklahoma. If this army continues south, we’ll mobilize.”

  The quality of fuel from the refinery was improving weekly, and while it still produced relatively small batches, it was doing so in sufficient quantities to fill several tanker trucks a week that made the trip to Mexico, where the fuel was instrumental in maintaining the Zeta Cartel’s stranglehold over Tamaulipas, Nuevo León, Chihuahua, and Coahuila. The Mexican government had collapsed almost as quickly as the American, leaving the cartels to police states that had, even during the best of times before the collapse, been effectively out of the government’s control.

  Houston had become a critical part of the cartel’s U.S. growth strategy, as well as providing it a decisive advantage in Mexico. If Julio needed ten thousand fighters, given enough time to round them up, he could get them to Houston to defeat any force foolhardy enough to try to attack.

  He didn’t believe that the arm
y was headed their way, but if it was, it would be over before it started. Much like a tribe of Native Americans riding full tilt into the fire from the cavalry’s Gatling guns, there was only one possible outcome, and the cartel’s ability to mobilize an armored battalion to confront the force wherever Julio chose would be decisive.

  “All right. Back to business,” he said, dismissing any further discussion in favor of continuing the profit counting. But a tiny doubt in the back of his mind lingered like a foul smell, and as the afternoon’s count progressed, he found himself revisiting the possibility that a well-equipped force could be bearing down on them.

  When they’d finished with the tally, Julio was pleased and poured another round of tequila, finishing their second bottle of the day. As the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat, the thought of the army receded like a high tide, and by the time they were halfway through the third bottle, imported to Houston from his favorite distillery in Jalisco on the return tanker runs, he barely remembered the interruption, his mind now on the evening’s diversions from a bevy of local nubiles who were eager to please their new masters.

  “They come, we kill them,” he declared, slapping his hand hard against the table, and he and his lieutenants laughed at the notion of anyone stupid enough to take on what was now the most powerful entity in North America.

  Chapter 44

  South of Denver, Colorado

  Lucas had been following the army’s trail for two days. He’d had no difficulty tracking them, the evidence of their passing as wide as a superhighway on the dirt-coated pavement, but they were moving faster than he’d reckoned, and it was only on the morning of the third day that he finally caught sight of a dust cloud on the horizon – the product of thousands of marching boots and countless horses cantering down the road.

  He spurred Tango forward and leaned low over the stallion’s mane as Tango broke into a gallop. The big horse sustained the rapid clip until the rear of the column was in sight. Lucas slowed as he drew near, and when he was within earshot, the men gave a ragged cheer as he rode by, his rifle held aloft in salute.

  Word of his arrival surged forward to the cavalry, and Elliot and Duke called the procession to a halt while Lucas made his way toward them. Sierra waved at him as he passed, and he returned the gesture but didn’t slow until he reached the head of the line, where Sam, Duke, and Elliot had dismounted.

  “What are you stopping for?” Lucas asked with a grin, dropping from Tango’s back.

  “It was time to take a break anyway. Don’t feel too special,” Duke grumbled.

  “Anything happen while I was away?”

  “No drama beyond the usual,” Elliot said. “How’d it go?”

  Lucas looked around and indicated a tree by the side of the highway. They walked over and stood in the shade while Lucas recounted his hunt and the unsatisfying end result.

  “Then the Crew guy got away?” Sam asked.

  “He was wounded badly enough to be bleeding like a stuck pig. We both know the odds of him surviving in the rough.”

  “It can be done,” Duke said.

  “The rain wiped out his tracks, so it’s a moot point. There was nothing to follow. Simple.”

  “Those bastards butchered a family for their horses? That’s low even by Crew standards.”

  “I have a feeling it isn’t. Remember where that bunch came from.” Lucas spat on the parched dirt. “But what’s done is done. How much farther you reckon Luis’s trading post is?”

  “South of Colorado Springs,” Duke said. “So about three days at this rate.”

  “Duke was telling me about the lovely bunch that runs Colorado Springs,” Elliot said. “You thinking we should clean out the cockroaches on the way?”

  Lucas thought about it. “Don’t think we want to risk any of the men’s lives to tackle them. If they don’t attack us, we leave them be. There a big civilian population there?” he asked Duke.

  “Not really. Most everyone left is either a Nazi or likes ’em well enough to stay put.”

  “Then we let them rot. We have bigger fish to fry,” Lucas said.

  “That may be a mistake,” Elliot said.

  “Why? We get rid of them, if there’s no real civilian presence, it’ll just create a vacuum that some other bunch of lowlifes will fill. If they’re not actively dangerous to anyone, it’s not worth the effort or the ammo.”

  Elliot looked away. “They’re Nazis, Lucas.”

  “Which means they’re racist idiots who follow a failed ideology. Seems like nature will take care of them in time. We’ll save our rounds for when they matter.”

  “Fair enough. But if they fire at us, we flatten them,” Sam said.

  “Sure. But we’ll send an advance patrol to warn them what’s headed their way, and tell them we’re not their problem. If they stand down, we don’t rile them up. They want a fight, we finish it in short order.”

  Lucas was retrieving Tango when Sierra appeared through the mounted troops and ran to him. When she reached Lucas, she hugged him tight and then pushed away and stared up into his eyes.

  “You ever take off like that again without warning me, you’re sleeping alone for the duration,” she whispered.

  “Sorry. There was no time to tell you.”

  “You can make time, Lucas.” She studied him. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Just beat from the trail. How’re the kids?”

  “Eve’s still having problems, but nothing worse than usual. Tim thinks he’s a soldier now, so he couldn’t be happier.” Her face softened. “I was worried. Don’t do that again. Please, Lucas.”

  He looked away. “I won’t if I can help it. That’s the best I can do, Sierra.” He returned his gaze to her. “Now I’ve got to be a good general for the rest of the day. We can discuss this tonight.”

  “I’m happy you’re back, Lucas.”

  “Me too.”

  Elliot and Duke joined him, and Sierra retraced her steps to the wagons. Lucas eyed the army stretched as far as he could see down the highway.

  “Where you figure we’ll make camp tonight?” he asked.

  “Castle Rock looks good. We filled our water stores at the reservoir, so we’re good for a few days.”

  “Great.”

  “Then from there, another week’s march and we’ll dogleg over toward Oklahoma. That’s where the going will get rougher. Not much east of Colorado.”

  “We’ll make do. From Pueblo we’ll follow the river until we hit Oklahoma. At least water won’t be an issue.”

  Duke nodded. “Food might be.”

  “True,” Elliot said. “But we can fish. And we’re not in any super rush as long as we’ve got full bellies, right? Better to make less time on the plain than to push and go hungry.”

  “Not a bad plan,” Lucas agreed. “But I don’t want to lose momentum, so we need to keep at least some pressure on.”

  “Oh, we will. This is just between us,” Elliot said.

  Lucas nodded. “Fine. Then let’s get to Castle Rock so I can have a real meal and rinse the trail dust out of my ears.”

  Chapter 45

  South of Denver, Colorado

  Bret squinted in the morning sunlight at a dark mass on the highway and called out to Luis, who was standing by the trading post front door, cleaning a rifle.

  “They’re here!”

  “All right. Get ready to ride,” Luis replied, and turned to where Lindsey and Kent were shoeing one of the horses by the stable. “You boys need to get a move on it.”

  “We’re almost done,” Kent said.

  Duke had alerted Luis of the army’s progress from the portable shortwave set, and Luis had spent the last two days packing up the trading post, selling off what he didn’t plan to take, and stashing his gold in four saddlebags that he would double up on his horse, using a second animal as a mule for his supplies. Since Shangri-La was no longer in the Rockies, there was no reason for him to stay put, and he’d decided to accompany Duke and Lucas on their
travels rather than operating a barter operation in the ass end of nowhere.

  “You got maybe five minutes,” Luis said. He strode over to a truck bed that they’d converted into a wagon with a rigid harness, and checked the load, which contained everything of value he hadn’t sold – mostly weapons and ammo, a few grenades, and a trio of claymores that had been liberated from an army depot by some enterprising teens. He estimated the total weight at over a thousand pounds, which could be pulled by two of the horses he’d assigned the duty. “Get the animals into the harness when you’re done. I want to be ready when they get here.”

  Luis didn’t have to wait long. Twenty minutes later, the advance patrol stopped in front of the trading post, and a few minutes later Lucas rode up with Duke.

  “Howdy, stranger,” Duke said with a grin.

  “Long time, Duke,” Luis said. “How you doing, Lucas?”

  “They’ve got me playing nanny on the army. How about you?”

  “Time for a change of season. The trading post game isn’t my thing.” Luis looked around. “We’re ready. If you want to load up on well water, ours is pretty clean.”

  “Appreciate it.” Lucas turned to Sam, who was waiting with the cavalry twenty yards behind them. “Fifteen-minute break. Top up the water.” He returned his attention to Luis. “Let’s get out of the sun.”

  Luis nodded. “I wasn’t looking forward to spending winter here, so that’s one reason to be happy to go.” He paused. “We still headed to Texas?”

  Duke had filled Luis in over the radio when they’d been discussing closing the outpost. He’d shared the information with his crew, and they’d agreed to join the army rather than remain in Colorado.

  “Damn right,” Duke said. “It’s time to flush the turds once and for all.”

  “They won’t go quietly. From what I know about the cartel, they’re as mean as sewer rats. And they have fuel.”