The Day After Never - Legion (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 8)

by Russell Blake

  Nate and Derek each took a pair of thirty-round magazines and began feeding 5.56mm cartridges into them; Snake did the same. When they were done, Snake slipped the full mags into the compartments in his flak jacket, sweat coursing down his face from the additional layer of clothing. He looked around the room, lifted a black nylon backpack from the floor, and walked to a metal hatch on the far side that resembled a pressure door on a submarine.

  “This connects to an old sewage system that lets out a quarter mile away. Once we’re clear of the fighting, we’ll figure out what to do,” he said, and twisted the oversized handle to open it.

  The distinctive sound of a pistol cocking stopped him in his tracks, and he slowly turned to find Nate pointing a Colt 1911 .45 at him.

  “You’re not going any farther,” Nate snarled.

  Snake’s eyebrows rose, and his mouth twitched with cold fury. “You’re part of this?” He looked to Derek, behind Nate. “You too?”

  A gunshot rang out, and Nate jerked like a marionette. Snake threw himself to the side and drew his pistol. Nate coughed as his gun fell to the ground, and a stream of crimson spewed from his mouth before he crumpled to the floor. Derek stood behind him with his gun leveled at the dying man, his expression cold.

  “I suspected he might be involved. But I wanted to wait for him to make a move,” Derek said, and holstered the weapon. “Let’s get moving. We can leave him for the ants.”

  Snake rose and walked to where Nate was gasping like a beached smelt. He stared down at him with hatred and then drew his combat knife and stabbed him in the stomach. He twisted and gored the dying man with a sneer, and finished by wiping the blade clean and kicking Nate in the head.

  “Shame to let a nice gun like that go to waste,” he said, and retrieved Nate’s 1911 and stuck it into his belt. “Be worth something in trade.”

  Derek straightened. “Lead the way. It’ll take them a while to get through all the doors, assuming they bother.”

  “You have any idea who’s behind this?” Snake asked.

  “No, but I can guess. Doesn’t matter right now. They timed it so we couldn’t mount a decent defense, so they’re going to win. All we can do is get clear and see if we can pick up the pieces.”

  Snake spit on Nate. “Bastards.”

  Derek grunted and tossed the torch on the floor. He grabbed the lantern and cranked the handle again. The light increased in intensity, and he handed it to Snake, who took it and faced the open hatch.

  “Okay. Let’s go,” Snake said and ducked through the opening, lantern in one hand and rifle in the other, the light’s glare blazing down the length of the concrete chute as he considered how close he’d come to bleeding out on the cold, hard floor.

  Chapter 20

  Amber Hot Springs, Colorado

  Elliot walked slowly along the central path that led through Shangri-La, deep in thought. A cold wind was blowing through the trees, wrinkling their tops and making the starlight seem even more frigid.

  A voice called from behind him. “Elliot! Wait up.”

  Arnold emerged from the darkness and walked toward him.

  “You’re up late,” Elliot observed.

  “Same can be said for you.”

  “Guilty conscience won’t let me sleep.”

  Arnold smiled. “Mine’s nothing so dramatic. More a bathroom trip.”

  Elliot chuckled. “Just wait till you’re my age.” He paused, studying Arnold’s expression. “How are you and Julie getting along?”

  Arnold’s smile faded. “Women are a mystery to me.”

  “Don’t worry. They get easier to figure out as you get older.” Elliot paused. “I’m lying, of course.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  Elliot gave him a concerned look. “Anything serious?”

  “Mmm, no, not really. Just…never mind.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “There’s no point.”

  Elliot began walking again, and Arnold joined him. “Why are you really up?”

  “We got a transmission a few hours ago from Duke’s partner, Luis. Apparently both Colorado Springs and Pueblo have been destroyed and ransacked by Elijah’s army. Which means we’re out of time. They know we’re here, and they’re on their way.”

  “Crap. So…what do we do?”

  “I’ve made a command decision. We’re going to pull up stakes tomorrow morning and hit the trail. There’s no other rational choice. There’s no way we can withstand that kind of attack, no matter how committed we are.”

  “Lot of folks are going to hate having to do that.”

  “They’ll feel better about it when they’re still alive in a week.”

  “Good point.” Arnold cleared his throat and shifted the shoulder sling of his assault rifle. “Doesn’t give everyone a lot of time.”

  “We’ve been talking about this for days. They knew there was a good chance we’d have to leave. It won’t come as any surprise. Besides, there shouldn’t be much that can’t be ready within a few hours. It’s not like we’ve been here for years.”

  “True. But it doesn’t sound like we’ve got much of a head start.”

  “Maybe three, four days? It’ll be enough. It’ll have to be.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  Elliot slowed. “Provo, Utah. We’ll just have to hope that Duke’s able to convince them to take us in. If not, maybe we can establish a new home somewhere nearby. If we’re careful, we should be able to cover our tracks, and Elijah will never be able to find us.”

  Arnold looked doubtful. “We were pretty careful about our tracks when we left Denver, and it didn’t do much good. We might be underestimating them. A group as big as ours is going to leave some kind of trail.”

  “Should start raining again soon. That would erase anything obvious.”

  “Maybe,” Arnold said, but he sounded skeptical.

  “In any case, I’m not sure we have a choice. You see any other way out of this?”

  Arnold thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really. Although the one thing we have going for us is, from what I saw, they don’t really have a fighting force. More like a bunch of untrained civilians with guns. Which is bad enough, I know, but it means they won’t have any discipline, and they may lack the stomach to track us halfway across the west. Although we did kill their glorious leader…”

  “It’ll take us the better part of two weeks to get there.”

  “With a group numbering in the thousands, it’s sure to take longer. Not sure a lot of people would sign up for that duty.”

  “They may not have much choice. From what Luis said, they’re recruiting the hard way. Anyone who says no gets shot.”

  “Which means they won’t be loyal or very motivated. We both know that.”

  “We have to assume the worst.”

  “Oh, yeah. Believe me, I am. But we may get lucky on this one.”

  Elliot gave him a pained grin. “Never had much faith in luck for anything important.”

  “That makes two of us.” Arnold yawned. “Guess I’d better get back to Julie and give her the word.”

  “She’s a good woman.”

  “I know. I’m just not sure I’m a good enough man for her, and I’m afraid she might be catching on.”

  “She might surprise you.”

  “I hope so.”

  Arnold trudged back to his cabin, leaving Elliot to appreciate the stars alone. Down the path, he knew his night team of four guards was keeping watch, but still a knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach. Mobilizing the entire town wouldn’t be easy, and masking their passage would be harder still, but it could be done. And there was always the wild card of the weather that could help, as he’d considered.

  He just hoped they hadn’t delayed too long. His instinct had been to leave when they’d first intercepted the patrol and failed to catch the man who’d gotten away, but he’d allowed himself to be talked out of it. Now that hesitation
might wind up costing them everything. He hoped not, but as he always said, hope, like luck, was a lousy way to run a railroad, and he didn’t put much stake in it.

  “I’ll leave the optimism to others,” he muttered, and smiled as he caught himself. It wouldn’t do for the legendary leader of Shangri-La to be found talking to himself in the dark. Bad for morale to believe your decision maker might be coming apart in real time.

  His thoughts shifted to the Illuminati. If everyone managed to make it to Provo safely and lose Elijah’s force, that group would still be out there, and Elliot knew from experience that they wouldn’t just give up. They had the resources and the horsepower to track them to the ends of the earth, and likely would.

  He sighed in resignation. One problem at a time. In the strange, new world they’d found themselves in, there was always a threat to worry about, and it could drive a man mad to consider how slim the odds were of making it to a new year. Better to tackle the hurdles as they came than to project into the future and fear uncertainty.

  For now, he had to lead his people to the Promised Land. Or at least, Utah.

  Which he hoped would be close enough.

  Chapter 21

  Houston, Texas

  Snake and Derek made their way along Houston’s darkened streets. The sound of gunfire from the Crew headquarters wasn’t much more than the distant snapping of twigs now that they’d been on the move for hours. That anyone was still putting up a fight encouraged Snake only slightly – the conclusion he’d come to was that it was an internal coup, not an attack by an external enemy, which meant that whoever was behind it had done their homework and concluded they could succeed. If they’d been recruiting the support they would need to not only win but dominate the Crew as its leaders, then victory was all but assured, and Snake could flush any notions of mounting a counter-coup to take back what was rightfully his.

  “There it is,” Derek said, pointing at a darkened building. “We can use that as a safe house during the day and keep moving tomorrow night.”

  “What is it?”

  “Used to be a meth lab. But they weren’t paying us our cut, so we took all the gear and killed the operators. It was the only thing in the area that was worth anything. Nobody lives around here – if you stay for very long, you wind up sick or dead. Probably a chemical spill from the plant, or a leak,” he said, pointing to a line of huge tanks jutting into the night sky a few hundred yards away. “Whatever. It’s perfect for one night.”

  “They’ll be looking for me when they don’t find my body.”

  “Maybe. But right now they’ve got their hands full taking over.”

  “By tomorrow they’ll have figured it out.”

  “Sure. But where do they start looking? Houston’s huge. And we’re on the outskirts.”

  “Okay. I’ll follow your lead,” Snake said.

  Derek grabbed his arm. “Shhh,” he hissed, and cocked his head to listen. A clank reverberated from near the building, and he flipped his rifle’s safety off and brought it to bear. Snake did the same, and they waited to see what had disturbed the night’s stillness, weapons at the ready.

  A mangy dog appeared from behind a debris pile with a rat in its jaws. It glared at them with red eyes and slunk away, reluctant to share its meal with anyone. Snake chuckled and lowered his rifle, and Derek exhaled nervously.

  “Come on,” he said, and walked toward the decimated building entry.

  They stopped on the stoop and listened for sounds of life, but only heard the rhythmic dripping of water somewhere deep in the structure’s bowels. Snake snuck a look at Derek, whose face was taut with concentration, and then peered into the pitch-black interior.

  “Why don’t we keep moving?” he asked. “The farther we are from Houston once it’s light out, the better.”

  “We’ll need to rest eventually. Neither of us knows what’s going to be available outside the city. Better something known than an ugly surprise.”

  “This is plenty ugly,” Snake said.

  “True, but it should be safe, and–”

  The sound of hooves clopping on asphalt stopped him, and they spun to face the noise. Three riders were approaching from down the street, rifles in hand. Derek grabbed Snake’s shirt and pulled him into the shadows. “They couldn’t have seen us,” he whispered.

  They watched as the patrol neared, and heard one of the men cough – a phlegm-filled excretion that terminated in loud spitting. One of the riders laughed, and a baritone voice drifted to them. “Gotta stop the loco weed, dude. It’s killing you.”

  “You kiddin’? It’s the only thing keeps me goin’.”

  Snake leaned into Derek and whispered, “We could use horses.”

  “Too dangerous,” Derek cautioned.

  “You take the one on the right. I’ll take the two on the left,” Snake said, and he stepped from the doorway with his rifle leveled at the riders and began firing bursts.

  Snake didn’t hear Derek’s curse behind him, but saw the man Snake had singled out for him buck in the saddle and tumble backward onto the street. The two that Snake had picked barely had time to raise their guns before his rounds stitched through them, and they fell from their animals, guns clattering on the pavement.

  One of the horses bolted away, dragging its dead rider by one leg. The other two froze, unsure of what to do, and Snake ran to the nearest and grabbed the reins.

  Derek joined him moments later, snared the other stallion, and glared at Snake. “They’ll be missed.”

  “Not tonight they won’t. Any other night, sure. But not tonight.” He eyed Derek. “Mount up. Let’s put some miles between us and Houston.”

  “Their weapons. We can use them for trade,” Derek said, and went to collect the dead men’s guns and ammo. Snake soothed his horse while his lieutenant gathered the weapons and searched the corpses, and by the time Derek returned, the skittish animal had calmed down. Snake knew that the patrols pulled horses from a common stable, so the horse wouldn’t have any particular affinity for its deceased rider – the dead man had been just another weight on its back.

  “Toss those in the saddlebags and let’s get moving,” Snake ordered. Derek did as instructed and then swung up onto his horse’s back. Snake followed suit, and then they were cantering down the street, the sticky air hot on their faces.

  An hour passed, and they reached the city’s outskirts. Derek looked to Snake for a decision on how to proceed, since he hadn’t taken any of his counsel. Snake eyed the stars and turned in the saddle to take a final look at the skyline behind him before nodding as though having made a momentous decision.

  “We probably have another hour of night left. Let’s keep riding and then find someplace quiet to lie low during the day.”

  “Which way?”

  “North. To Dallas. There may be some loyalists left there.”

  Derek shook his head. “They’ll have radioed the news. I’m the only loyalist you’ve got.”

  “We need a direction, and there’s nothing the other way, so north’s it.”

  “We’ll have to stay off the roads.”

  “Of course. We can do that. We’ll travel at night, like you said.”

  “Dallas is over two hundred miles. It’ll take us at least a week to get there.”

  “You got any better ideas?”

  “Let’s ride. I’ll tell you later.”

  Derek spurred his horse forward, leaving Snake frowning at his back, wondering what had gotten into his man. He’d been loyal so far, but could he be having second thoughts? Snake wouldn’t have blamed him – it was the smart position to take – but he needed to continue asserting his authority, even if it was a fiction at this point. Otherwise he would lose control and Derek would view him as an equal and, as such, might start wondering why he’d risked his neck for him.

  Just before dawn, they came across an abandoned low-income neighborhood whose homes were well on their way to being reclaimed by nature. They picked a suitable clapboard hous
e with a separate garage, led the horses into the empty building, and then lay down on the hard floor by the door.

  “What were you talking about back there?” Snaked asked. “You were going to tell me later?”

  “Let’s see your guns,” Derek said, his pistol in his hand, not pointing at Snake, but still gripped like it could be in a nanosecond.

  Snake’s mouth dropped open. “What? Have you lost your–”

  “Now. Butts first. Nice and slow.”

  “You’re in on this?”

  “No.” He motioned with his pistol. “The guns, Snake.”

  Snake was trembling with fury as he slid his pistol to Derek, and then Nate’s 1911. His rifle came last, and his face was a death mask when he snarled at Derek, “You’re robbing me?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. But I can’t afford for you to overreact. So no guns until you’ve heard me out.”

  “You work for me–”

  Derek shook his head. “Wrong. I work for myself. Just like you do. And now, without the Crew to back you, you’re out of a job. So I have a proposal.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been working with the Illuminati for months. Watching your empire crumble. They know you killed their messenger, which means you owe them big. And they plan to collect. Which is where the proposal comes in.”

  Snake tensed, ready to lunge at Derek, and his hand moved to the sheathed knife in his belt.

  Derek shook his head as though disappointed. “You’d be dead before you could reach me. Now stop acting like a fool and listen to what I have to say.”

  “You can’t talk to me like–”

  “I can and I will. Now shut up and pay attention,” Derek said, cocking the hammer on his pistol.

  That stopped Snake, and his jaw clenched and unclenched as he sat in silence.

  “That’s better,” Derek continued. “Here’s what they want you to do. They have a line on the whereabouts of Shangri-La. They need you to find it and kill its leader – Elliot Barnes. Some doctor. He’s thrown a wrench into their plans too many times, and they want him dead.”