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

by Russell Blake

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You’ve got cunning, and you’re a survivor. Maybe one who enjoys his chemicals a little too much, but you’re sneaky and vicious, and you’ll do what’s best for you. If you find him and kill him, bygones will be bygones, and they’ll help restore you to heading up the Crew again.”

  Snake’s eyes widened. “You know who’s behind this, don’t you?”

  Derek nodded. “Of course. They know everything.” He paused. “Remember Wink?”

  “That one-eyed piece of shit? You’re joking. He wouldn’t have the balls.”

  “He partnered up with the Mexicans. They helped him out, and now the Crew works for them. Which will be a problem for Wink over time, but he’s not smart enough to realize how big of one until it’s too late. Your men aren’t going to be excited about handing over most of what they earn, and that’ll backfire. But it’ll take time. Time you can use to find Shangri-La and put a bullet or a knife in Elliot. They don’t really care how you do it. Just that it gets done.”

  Snake absorbed Derek’s words. “Where is it?”

  “Up in the mountains of Colorado. Place called Amber Hot Springs.”

  “If they know where it is, why haven’t they sent someone else?”

  “They just learned a few days ago. The Illuminati aren’t the only ones with a bone to pick with Elliot. Besides, you’re available, and you’ve got nothing else to do.” He grinned, sending a shiver up Snake’s spine. “They know about your little stash of gold. Gold they gave you. So it’s really theirs. They want you to hire mercenaries and ride for Shangri-La. Make it your life’s mission. You do as they ask and you’ll get everything back. But you even think about betraying them and they’ll find you and see that you die in the most excruciating way possible.”

  “And you’re in on this. So what do you do now?”

  “I disappear into the sunset. Or I follow you at a safe distance and make sure you don’t get any bright ideas. All the same to me.”

  “How much are they paying you? I’ll pay more. We can vanish together and they’ll never find us.”

  “You have no idea who you’re playing against. That was always part of the problem. They can do anything, Snake. Anything. There’s no place that’s safe from them. So forget about the double cross. You’d never live to spend the gold.”

  Snake eyed Derek, who was completely calm, and thought through the offer. He could get back command of the Crew and punish those who’d dared to overthrow him. All he had to do was kill one man and he got everything back and then some – revenge being the best part.

  Snake exhaled sharply. “Fine. You have a deal. Where are they?”

  “There’s no changing your mind on this, Snake. Understand?”

  “I said you have a deal. Now answer the question so I can get some sleep, or shoot me. At this point, I don’t really care which.”

  Chapter 22

  Salem, Oregon

  Ruby made her way up a crooked trail in the hills outside town. The glow of the dawn in the eastern sky did little to warm her even with the exertion of the climb. Peter, a friendly older man who’d taken a liking to her, followed her like a faithful hound, the backpack with his shortwave radio set and the solar battery he used to power it bouncing against his shoulder blades with every step.

  Reception in town had been terrible the last few times she’d communicated with Shangri-La, and for whatever environmental reasons, she’d been unable to reach Seattle when she tried the prior day. Their method of communication was fraught with uncertainty at the best of times, but it was her lifeline to home and to Lucas, who’d last told her that they’d won the battle for Seattle and would be underway to Salem shortly – without defining exactly what “shortly” meant.

  They reached a plateau at the top of a hill that Peter had assured her would be perfect for improving reception, and he laid out a blanket on the moist grass before removing the battery and radio and setting up the transmitter. He plugged an old-fashioned microphone and two pairs of headphones into a splitter he’d engineered, and then powered on the system and turned the dial to the frequency Ruby had given him.

  “You ready to do this?” he asked, with all the eagerness of the teenage geek that he still resembled so many years later.

  “Absolutely,” she said, and took the headphones from him and slipped them over her head.

  Peter cleared his throat, depressed the transmit button, and spoke in what Ruby thought of as his radio-disk-jockey voice.

  “Gabriel 820. Gabriel 820. This is Ladybug. Do you read?”

  He released the transmit button, and they listened to static for a full minute before he tried again.

  “Gabriel 820. This is Ladybug. Do you copy? Over.”

  Nothing but the slow oscillation of white noise greeted them, and Ruby exchanged a look with Peter, who felt the side of the radio and shook his head.

  “I have no idea why this damn thing keeps heating up like this,” he said. “It shouldn’t. No shorts I can find.”

  A burst of white noise interrupted him, and a male voice spoke. “Go ahead, Ladybug. This is Gabriel 820. Over.”

  Peter handed Ruby the mic and removed his headphones to give her privacy. Ruby waited until he’d walked a discreet distance away before speaking. “Checking in as asked, Gabriel. Any way you can put the pilot on?” she asked, using Elliot’s alias.

  “10-4. Stand by.”

  Ruby knew the best time to reach Elliot was at dawn. He would be preparing for the day in his cabin at the early hour rather than prowling the grounds, thus easier to hunt down, especially when limited battery power made transmission time precious.

  A minute later Elliot’s voice answered. “Greetings, Ladybug. Hope all’s well on your end.”

  “Not much new to report. Playing the waiting game for our friend.”

  “I wish it was as calm here. We’ve run into a little situation, though, and are getting ready to go walkabout.”

  Ruby digested that. “Oh. All of you?”

  “The whole family.”

  “When?”

  “We’re packing up the tent now.”

  “Weather related?” she asked, using the code for danger.

  “Storm’s approaching. Seems prudent to try calmer surroundings.”

  “Any idea where you’re headed?”

  “Do you have a pencil handy?”

  “Sure,” she said, feeling in her jacket for the pen and pad she always had at the ready when speaking with Shangri-La. She withdrew them and toggled the transmit button. “Ready.”

  “Headed to SURXR.”

  “Stand by.”

  The code was a simple substitution cipher, where she simply had to replace each letter with the one three before to come up with the true message. She quickly did the work and tapped the word she’d written. Provo.

  “Oh my. That’s a jog, isn’t it?”

  “Nothing worth doing’s ever easy.”

  “When do you expect to get there?”

  “Couple of weeks, assuming the river don’t rise and the gods cooperate.”

  “Anything you need from my end?”

  “Pass the info on to our friend.”

  “He’s been dark lately.”

  “Probably busy. You suspect otherwise?”

  “No. I’m sure you’re right.”

  A burst of white noise garbled Elliot’s response, and Ruby touched the side of the radio and then pulled her hand away like she’d touched a hot stove. The metal casing was frying hot.

  “Repeat,” she said, and waited, cursing the jury-rigged radio’s penchant for thermal unpredictability. When no response came, she called over to Peter, “This thing’s on fire.”

  He came at a trot and knelt by the device. “Damn. You’re right. I honestly have no idea why it’s doing that.”

  “It cut off in the middle of a transmission,” she said, pocketing the pen and notepad before he could see what she’d written.

  “We’ll have to wait u
ntil it cools off.”

  “That could be a while.”

  His right eyebrow cocked. “Are we in a hurry?”

  “There’s some urgency to this one, Peter.”

  He sighed and powered the system off. “Well, there’s not much we can do but wait.”

  An explosion from Salem echoed off the hills, followed by gunfire. Ruby bolted to her feet and stared down at the buildings. “What the hell–”

  Peter joined her and they watched in horror as a swarm of men descended on the town and easily overcame the guard outposts, the number of attackers in the thousands to a few hundred defenders. Assault-rifle chatter filled the morning air as battles waged hot, and Ruby grabbed Peter’s arm. “We have to do something.”

  “What can we do? Look at that. It’s…an army.”

  The color drained from her face. “But why? Why Salem? And who are they?”

  “Wish I had my binoculars. Maybe we could make something out.”

  “They’re butchering everyone,” she whispered. “Listen to that.” She hesitated. “Oh, God. It could be the Crew…”

  “Who?”

  Ruby had forgotten that Peter had been born and raised in Oregon and hadn’t heard of the Texas gang, which had not reach that far west or north.

  “They’re animals from Texas. Jailbirds. Worst of the worst.”

  “There are a few like that here, too, but not with that many men. I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean…how did they get here? That’s a ton of mouths to feed. And why come here? It’s not like we have much to take.”

  Ruby shook her head. “I don’t know, Peter.”

  They watched in grim silence as the shooting continued, the sun’s ascension into the sky bringing with it the sound of mass murder from below. After an hour of fighting, the shooting slowed and eventually stopped, leaving them watching as the invaders overran the town.

  “Oh God, Peter,” she whispered.

  “He’s not around today,” he replied grimly, and then his breath caught in his throat and he pointed at the outskirts of the town. “Look.”

  Six figures, tiny as insects from their vantage point, ran into the woods from the last of the buildings just as dozens of gunmen came around a corner behind them. Apparently they’d disappeared before the attackers had seen them, because no shooting followed their escape.

  “At least a few people are getting away,” he said.

  Ruby’s jaw clenched with resolve. “We need to help them, Peter.”

  “How? We only have our rifles and this damn radio.”

  “I don’t know. But we have to do something. There may be more.”

  Peter appeared unsure. “I mean, sure – but then what?”

  “We can hide in the woods. You know this area like the back of your hand. Whoever that is isn’t from around here. That’s an advantage.”

  “A few locals up against that…look how that just turned out.”

  Ruby’s lips tightened to a thin line. “I’m not saying we attack them, you damn fool. I’m saying we see who made it out and figure out what our options are.”

  Peter responded to the harsh vernacular like he’d been slapped, and Ruby’s expression softened.

  “I’m sorry, Peter. That was uncalled for. It’s just…”

  He looked away. “I know. Forget about it. You’re right. It’s either that or we’re out here on our own. Maybe there’s some strength in numbers. We can take turns guarding wherever we make camp, and share hunting and fishing duties.”

  “Of course. But for now, we should probably steer well clear and see what happens next. If they come into the woods and start searching for survivors, we’re better off a few miles away.”

  “No argument there. Later on we can look for the others. For now, we’ll watch and wait.” She looked at the radio and frowned, her concerns over Elliot’s announcement that Shangri-La was again in jeopardy suddenly distant compared to the ransacking of the town, including the murder of many of those she’d grown close to over the past weeks. Even after years of hardship in the aftermath of the collapse, it still chilled her blood how destructive and brutal her fellow humans could be, and she shivered involuntarily in spite of the sun’s warmth.

  “Animals,” she spat, her tone disgusted as she watched the aftermath. She had no doubt that had she been in town that morning, she would have been killed without hesitation, too old to rape or force into slave labor. Her younger counterparts wouldn’t have been so lucky, she knew, and it was all she could do to keep the sour bile that rose in her throat from choking her at the thought of what would come next. “Animals,” she repeated, and walked away from Peter, her chest heaving, shocked to her core at what she’d just witnessed.

  “Ruby…” Peter tried, but she waved him away.

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, obviously shaken as well. Peter was single, all of his relatives long dead from the virus or post-collapse hardship, but every friend he had on earth had been in Salem, and the chances of any having made it out alive were practically nil. He sat on the blanket, face slack and eyes blank, and watched as Ruby sobbed quietly at the tree line, clutching her rifle in white-knuckled hands.

  Chapter 23

  Seattle, Washington

  Plum and tangerine streaked the predawn sky as Lucas studied the waterfront warehouse from the staging point for the planned attack. Occupying most of a long block, the building was a single-story structure with weathered, graffiti-covered walls, windows largely broken out, and a corrugated metal roof. On his late night reconnaissance, Lucas had spotted multiple guards skulking behind the roof rim, as well as several in nearby buildings facing the water; now from his vantage point on the third floor of a tenement three blocks from the wharf, he could make out a few more at each corner.

  He lowered his binoculars and looked over at Brad, who’d spent the night there.

  “Take your men over to the other office building before it gets light out,” he instructed. Brad moved to the door, and Lucas’s eyes followed him until he melted into the gloom. He’d told Brad that he wanted to try to take some prisoners, but wasn’t sure that the man understood the importance, even after he’d explained it. Brad clearly relished a fight and was chomping at the bit to unleash hell on the Chinese in a replay of the battle for Seattle, in which he’d played a significant part.

  They’d scouted out the area earlier and agreed that his men, who were equipped with mortars and grenade launchers, would shell the building when Lucas gave the signal, which would be line of sight from the office building where they were headed and Lucas’s spotter position. Lucas wanted to keep Brad in reserve, though, because Lucas could better control the intensity of the attack from the fighters in the staging-area building, instructing them to increase or decrease the bombardment as necessary.

  Sam had equipped five hundred gunmen, who were lying in wait two blocks away and who would only engage after the explosives had done their job. Lucas had made clear that he wanted prisoners taken on this assault, and that was the mission priority over the complete annihilation of the Chinese – which Art had argued for before capitulating.

  “They put a price on our heads and would have gladly blown us all to hell,” he’d said. “Why you want to spare these scum is beyond me. Even if we manage to take some of the invasion force prisoner, it’s unlikely they’ll tell us anything of value.”

  “Art, you know I was a lawman. Killing everyone indiscriminately doesn’t sit well. That’s not the way to do things.”

  “It is if you want to win.”

  “We’re not in a war. These are criminals, not an enemy army. The rules of engagement need to be different. At least we should give them a chance to surrender.”

  Art had reluctantly agreed. “And then kill ’em all.”

  “Assuming they won’t give up, then they signed up to meet their makers today,” Lucas had agreed. “But I don’t want to go in heavy and lose the chance to capture some of th
e invaders.”

  Art had grimaced and then shrugged. “You’re the boss on this one. But I’d just put them out of their misery. Blow ’em sky high and have done with it. That sets the tone for how things will be handled once we’re gone, too. No latitude for treachery.”

  Lucas had nodded. “Noted. But let’s try it my way first.”

  “Sure.”

  The cry of a lone seagull wheeling over the sound reached Lucas, and he raised the glasses again to scan the wharf – nobody in sight, the area still as a cemetery. He hoped he hadn’t missed some critical sign, or he was about to put his men in jeopardy, or – as with the earlier foray at the gym – waste everyone’s time. The presence of the Chinese sentries was the convincing factor for him – unlike that near miss, the gang had deployed watchers, which told him that the intel upon which he was basing his planning was good.

  The celestial glow increased over the next fifteen minutes, and he swung around to look at the office building in which Brad was positioned. A green piece of fabric was hanging out of the top window, indicating he was there and ready. Lucas lowered the binoculars, walked across the floor to the stairs, and climbed to the roof, where Sam was waiting with Henry and two dozen men, half equipped with mortars and grenade launchers, the other half serving as loaders. Crates of projectiles sat at the ready near the ad hoc artillery, and six sharpshooters lay near the roof edge, awaiting Lucas’s signal to pick off the Chinese snipers when the shelling started.

  Lucas crept at a crouch to Sam and Henry and spoke in a low voice. “You ready here?”

  “Never more. Say the word and we’ll start this party, boss.”

  Lucas swung the spyglasses up, took a final glance at the warehouse, and stilled. “On my count. Three…two…one…go!”

  The whump of eight mortars launching simultaneously filled the air, and the crack of the sniper rifles from the roof edge told him that there was no going back. He checked the warehouse through the glasses and was reassured to see the bodies of the sentries sprawled where they’d fallen, killed without knowing what had hit them.