“They don’t have our discipline. We just beat the Chinese frigging army,” Duke said. “A bunch of gangsters won’t be a problem.”
“They took down the Crew.”
“Big deal,” Lucas said. “So did we, with only a handful of fighters. Your memory bothering you?”
“Nope. I just don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Nobody said it would be,” Lucas countered. “But we’ve got more than enough time to develop a plan.”
Luis nodded. “That we do. Come inside. I’ll introduce you to the gang.”
They dismounted and walked their horses through the gate, followed by Sam and a throng of fighters. Luis approached his men and indicated Duke, Lucas, and Elliot.
“Bret, Kent, Lindsey? This here’s my partner, Duke, and the head of the army – Lucas. And Elliot, who developed the vaccine and used to be the chief at Shangri-La.”
Luis indicated chairs and took a seat. Lucas did the same, as did Elliot and Duke.
“You hear anything more about the cartel?” Lucas asked.
“Yeah. We had another bunch show up day before yesterday. Same story, only now the cartel’s in charge of all of Houston. They booted the Crew out.”
“That could work in our favor,” Duke said. “If they aren’t homeboys, they won’t have any real defensive advantage.”
“They have trucks and tanks. How much more do they need?”
Lucas nodded. “The Chinese had battleships. Didn’t do them much good. But I take your point. You get anything we could use?”
“Not really. They weren’t ex-military or anything. Just a bunch of refugees who were headed to Denver for a new start.”
Duke considered Luis for a moment. “So you and your boys in for the long haul, or just hitching a ride for a ways?”
“To be determined. But it isn’t like we have anything pressing here.”
“The pay sucks, but at least the hours are lousy and it’s seriously dangerous,” Duke said.
“You had me at we could all die.”
Everyone laughed and continued bantering until Lucas rose. “We need to get moving. Still got a long way to go before we make camp.”
“We’re ready,” Luis said. “You going to give me a tin star or something, or do I start out as a private?”
Lucas grinned. “I think we can find something to keep you busy. How about a captain, like Sam? You’ll report to us, nobody else.”
“Sounds fair, unless you expect me to do something besides order people around.”
“Right now that’s the duty,” Duke confirmed.
Luis shrugged. “Then not much different than here. Sign me up.”
Chapter 46
Houston, Texas
Julio sat with his subordinates beneath a shade tree in the park across from his headquarters, his expression deadly serious. Bodyguards ringed the area with guns, and the surrounding buildings were occupied by cartel shooters chartered with keeping the area safe.
“Progress at the refinery is continuing. We’ve got the diesel up to pre-collapse purity now and should be able to increase production within another couple of weeks,” Julio said. “Which makes Houston our most important holding. The refineries in Mexico are years behind. We can charge anything we want if we decide to sell it.”
“That’s great news,” one of the lieutenants said.
“Our men have been working around the clock,” another announced. “We promised them all bonuses if they were successful.”
“A good strategy,” Julio said, and then frowned as a man neared at a trot from the headquarters.
“Jefe, there’s someone on the radio who wants to speak to you,” he announced breathlessly.
“On the radio? Who?”
“He wouldn’t say. Just told me to find you. That you’d want to talk to him.” He paused. “He speaks fluent Spanish. But weird. I think he may be Colombian or Argentinean.”
Julio looked to his men and then back to the messenger. “You’re interrupting an important meeting.”
“I know, jefe. But he was insistent.”
Julio smoothed his mustache and exhaled forcefully. “I’ll be back.”
In the communications room, Julio sat in front of the transmitter and donned the headphones before depressing the transmit button. “This is me. Who are you?”
“I represent a group that was working with the Crew. We learned you now control Houston, and we want to work with you.”
“Why would I care?”
“Because we can help each other.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“You do. You just don’t know it yet.”
Julio scowled. “Explain.”
“There’s a large armed force heading to Houston to drive you back into Mexico.”
The hair on Julio’s arms stiffened. “We know all about them.”
“Do you know their route and their equipment composition?”
“Why would we care? We can handle ourselves just fine.”
“You think it advisable to fight on your home turf? Or would it be smarter to intercept them at a safe distance and eliminate them before they’re close enough to do any damage?”
Julio considered the speaker’s words. “I’m listening.”
“I am prepared to tell you their route and their approximate location so you can hit them well away from Texas, at a time and place of your choosing.”
“What do you want in return? What do you care?”
“We want to help you secure your new territory and help your expansion.”
“Why?”
“Because we need allies when we resume running the country as an organized entity, and your group has demonstrated it can get things done.”
“How would you know what we’re capable of?”
“We have eyes and ears everywhere. We know of your refining effort, how many men you have, where you spend the night, where your family lives in Mexico.” The voice paused. “Your two sons are doing admirably in Matamoros, and your daughter and your grandchildren are the jewels of Zapopan.”
Julio digested the implied threat before replying, “Have we done business before?”
“You are familiar with our subsidiaries. Consider my information about the army a good-faith introduction to our organization. We will be taking over central control of the inhabitable territories over the next year, and you can own a substantial portion of it.”
“I already do.”
A pause. “You can live to enjoy it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise that we take care of our own.”
“You said you were working with the Crew?”
“We stopped shortly before you were allowed to take over Houston.”
“Allowed?”
“Did you really believe that it would be as easy as it was if there hadn’t been an invisible hand helping?”
“I’ll play along. Why did you ‘allow’ us to take Houston?”
“We felt your organization was a preferable one to partner with. The Crew had become unstable with the demise of its founder, and continued to degrade over time. Your group is far more efficient.” A pause. “We know which frequencies you use to communicate. We know the color of your granddaughter’s pajamas. We could have had the refinery operating six months ago; we chose not to. We also could have ensured you never got it running again. We decided to let you get it operational.”
“Let us?” It was Julio’s turn to pause. “What do we get in return if we’re willing to consider what you have to say?”
“We can discuss that once we see how you handle the army. If you are successful in destroying it, we’ll send a negotiating party to sit down with you. You may have heard accounts of a warship that was in port a while ago. That was us.”
Julio recalled the story of the battleship, but had discounted it as rumor. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Listen carefully,” the voice said, and gave Julio a list of highways and coo
rdinates. “They are moving around twenty miles a day. That coordinate is where they were a week ago. You can do the math with a map and calculate where they are at any given point. Perhaps find a location where they will be vulnerable and plan a surprise. What you do, and how, is immaterial, as long as you prevail.” The speaker continued for three minutes, listing armaments and troop strength. When he finished, Julio fought to reveal no emotion with his reply.
“If this is accurate, we’ll be able to verify it. We have operatives along the route.”
“You’ll see that it is. Good luck. We’ll be in touch once you’ve dealt with your…issue.”
“Wait. I want to know how to contact you.”
The channel hummed with static. No reply was forthcoming, and after thirty seconds of waiting, Julio removed the headset and pushed away from the transmitter, his face stiff. He returned to the park with unhurried steps, and when he reached his inner circle, he considered his words carefully.
“That was interesting. It appears that someone’s noticed what we’re up to and wants to help us.”
“What do you mean, help? What problem?”
Julio thought about how to explain what had transpired, and sat beneath the tree, his expression clouded.
“Not much of one for long. Here’s what we’re going to do…”
Chapter 47
Dallas, Texas
A tall man with thick graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard stood in front of a group of fifty men who had been summoned that afternoon on short notice. They represented the upper echelon of the Zeta Cartel in Dallas, where the Crew had been co-opted, as it had been in Houston prior to being eradicated there, and where the gang now mainly served as street muscle for the Mexicans.
The speaker was the chief of Zeta operations in Dallas, and the cartel’s six hundred Dallas fighters reported to him. Román Zamora had been a key player with the Zetas for thirty years, moving up in the ranks from a street dealer to one of the most important members, and his appointment as the ultimate authority in Dallas represented the esteem in which the cartel held him.
“I repeat, there is an army on its way to Texas, and its objective is to eliminate us. It’s well equipped and apparently is a seasoned fighting force. But we know its location, as well as the road it’s taking to get here, and that gives us an opportunity to ambush it well before it can enter our territory. Its strength is over five thousand men.”
The gathering murmured at the number.
“They don’t know that we know about them, so we have the element of surprise, which will allow us to choose the battleground. Houston has committed to sending whatever we need to wipe them out, and Julio’s orders are clear: he wants them all dead as a message to anyone who would oppose us.”
One of the men raised his hand, and Román nodded to him. “Yes?”
“How are we supposed to destroy an army of that size?”
“We choose where we attack them. I’ve been studying the map, and there’s a perfect candidate location as they arrive to Oklahoma City. We can occupy high ground and fortify it without them seeing us, and use explosives to drop the overpasses on them and blow up a long stretch of the highway. We should be able to take out at least a couple of thousand with the blasts. That will leave the rest panicked, caught in the crossfire between our fighters shooting down at them from the hills on either side. There’s no place to take cover, so five or ten Brownings and grenade launchers, as well as a few tanks from Houston, should wipe them out in short order. They’ll be sitting ducks.” Román paused. “I believe we can do it with no more than three hundred men.”
“Three hundred against five thousand?” another attendee blurted.
“The big machine guns will cut them to pieces, and if the explosions do their job, it will be more like three hundred against three thousand. But no matter. It will be three hundred prepared fighters with heavy weapons firing from high ground on a column of exposed troops that have nowhere to hide and were caught by surprise. Each Browning can put hundreds of rounds per minute into their midst. The numbers don’t lie. Add in the grenades and tanks and it should be all over but the mop-up in no time.”
“Where do we set up, and when do we have to leave?”
“It will take us ten days to get there by horseback, but only a couple of days, even clearing the highway of wreckage, by truck. They’re currently about twenty days out, depending on the weather. Houston will send us some tanks and personnel carriers early next week. So we have plenty of time to get there and dig in.” Román paused. “I’ll lead the ambush group. What I want you to do is pick your best fighters. We’ll discuss weapons and logistics in a couple of days. But for now, I want you to put out the word and get ready. As I said, I want three hundred, so only the best.”
The group broke up after several more questions, and the men dispersed to speak to their underlings.
Nobody paid any attention to a man who had been cleaning at the edge of the courtyard, and who continued to rake leaves until the area was empty. He stopped when he reached a corner and, after glancing around to confirm he was alone, removed a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper from his pocket and began scribbling.
That night, he entered a strip mall a contingent of Crew called home, and approached one of the gang.
“Jacko,” the man said, high-fiving the gangster.
“Lenny, what brings you here?”
Lenny looked at the other men, who were lounging on mattresses, passing a bottle around. “Wanted to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“It’s…embarrassing.”
Jacko nodded and put his arm around the smaller man and they walked out of earshot. “What’s going on?”
“You wanted me to tell you if I heard anything important. Well, I did.”
He fished the scrap of paper from his pocket and repeated the broad strokes of Román’s speech. When he finished, Jacko was silent for a long beat. He glanced at his companions and then to Lenny.
“Give me that,” he said, indicating the paper. Lenny did, and Jacko pocketed it. “Let me talk to some people and see what it’s worth. But for sure there’ll be something in it for you.”
“I could use a few rounds for drinks tonight,” Lenny said. “An advance, you know?”
Jacko nodded. “No prob,” he said, and thumbed four bullets from his vest.
Lenny scurried away in search of one of the dive bars that served cheap homemade rotgut, and Jacko returned to the others.
“What was that all about?” one of the thugs asked.
“Nothing. Somebody’s hassling him. He wants me to warn him off, that’s all.” Jacko sighed and grabbed one of the rifles leaned against the wall. “No big deal.”
“You want some company? It’s quiet as shit here.”
“Nah. This shouldn’t take long. Couple of broken bones should do the trick.”
Once on his horse, Jacko galloped west toward Grapevine Lake in Fort Worth. Three hours later, he was sitting at a table sharing whiskey and repeating Lenny’s account to Wink.
Wink waited until he was done, and then held out his hand for the paper. “Good job.”
Jacko handed the note over and downed the rest of his glass. “He wants a reward.”
“Sure. What do you think’s the right number?”
Jacko tilted his head at the bottle. “One of those and maybe ten rounds would be fair.”
Wink twisted and called out to one of his men, “Give Jacko a bottle of firewater and a dozen 9s, okay?”
“You got it, boss.”
Jacko poured one more drink for the road and then collected his bounty and left. Wink remained at the table for another hour, brow furrowed in thought, drinking slowly as he considered the implications of what his informant had brought him. There were still many in the Crew who sympathized with Wink, and he’d been holed up in Fort Worth without problems since leaving Houston; the area was vast, and the enclave he and his men had made their home was largely deserted save for
a few locals who didn’t ask questions.
He finished the bottle and sat back, one eye staring at the ceiling.
The enemy of his enemy was his friend, and he now saw the opportunity to regain his position as the Crew’s absolute ruler – and best of all, without risking his own neck.
All it would take was a little luck, a convincing pitch, and a lot of saddle leather.
“Boys! Get ready to ride. We’re headed out in the morning,” he yelled.
A head poked through the open doorway. “Ride? Where? We comin’ back?”
“North. And no. Plan on being gone for good. Now tell the others. We’re going to be sleeping rough for a while.”
Chapter 48
Lake Perry, Oklahoma
A pair of riders galloped toward where Lucas, Elliot, and Duke were astride their horses, trotting just behind the point gunmen. The forward guards let them pass, and they reined to a stop facing the commanders.
“Forward scouts say there’s about a hundred-something men moving our way up the road. They’re armed, but they’re flying a white flag – a sheet on a pole.”
Elliot and Lucas exchanged a puzzled look. “A sheet? Any idea who they are?”
“Negative. How do you want to handle it?”
Lucas turned to Duke and pointed at a dilapidated motel immediately ahead. “Let’s take a break. Half an hour. We’ve got a war party approaching, so form a defensive line. Everyone off the road. Take cover behind the buildings, and get the wagons out of sight.”
“You got it,” Duke said, and relayed the order down the line.
Fifteen minutes later the troops were deployed, with snipers in position on the roofs and hundreds of gunmen on either side of the road, lying on the ground to minimize their target size, weapons trained on the highway ahead. A column of riders materialized from the distorted heat waves rising off the pavement. One of the lead figures was holding a truce flag aloft for them to see.
Duke and Lucas waited on horseback just beyond the overpass, facing the approaching riders. When they were a hundred yards away, the bulk of them stopped, and a pair of mounted men continued forward. Lucas could easily make out that they were Crew from their signature leather vests, shaved heads, and plentiful tattoos, as could Duke, who leaned toward Lucas.
The Day After Never - Nemesis (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 9) Page 22