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

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The Day After Never - Legion (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 8) Page 23

by Russell Blake


  The room plunged into darkness as more of Lucas’s men made it inside, and they stitched the enemy gunmen with continuous fire, killing everyone in sight within seconds. Lucas ejected his spent magazine and slapped a fresh one into place, and then called out, “Everyone inside?”

  “We lost five.”

  “Bolt the door.”

  The fighters did as instructed; the heavy steel slab would provide a formidable barrier to the enemy – at least for a few minutes.

  “Search the place for anything that looks like a bioweapon.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything bigger than a breadbox.”

  Bullets pinged off the front door but didn’t penetrate, and the men went to work, performing a grid search of the interior with methodical precision. Lucas called out when he reached the rear of the warehouse. “Anything?”

  “Negative.”

  “No.”

  “Just rifles, ammo, some solar batteries, and a radio.”

  Lucas nodded to himself. The whole thing had been a bluff intended to force Provo’s hand and avoid a real fight.

  “All right. Let’s head up to the roof.”

  Lucas scaled a steel ladder mounted to the wall and pushed the hatch above open. He pulled himself through the square gap and ran through the night, groping for the handle of a flare gun in his flak jacket. He found it, oriented himself, and then fired.

  The flare streaked into the sky in a blinding blaze of orange, signaling to the rest of the force to begin their attack. Almost immediately the heavy stutter of Terry’s .50-caliber machine guns shattered the night, followed by the whump of mortars and grenades being launched from the mountains.

  Lucas reached the roof’s edge and peeked over as the rest of his men clambered up the ladder, and tossed a hand grenade toward a group of Elijah’s fighters that was firing assault rifles at the front entrance. He didn’t wait for the detonation and instead retraced his steps to the hatch. “You three, take the rear, and shoot anyone who gets near the back door. The rest of you, we’ll do the same for the front. Get moving.”

  The grenade’s explosion lit the night, and Lucas and his gunmen threw themselves down on the flat roof and crawled to the lip. The blast had killed or badly wounded a dozen of Elijah’s men, and none of the rest seemed overly eager to take their spot, more concerned with the hail of rounds streaking from the machine-gun nests that were eviscerating them where they stood. More grenade explosions throughout the camp blended with the large blasts of the mortar rounds, overlaid by the agonized screams of the wounded as the Brownings cut them to pieces.

  Lucas picked off several gunmen who were foolish enough to attempt another rush at the door, and then the sound of assault rifles filled the air as his NV-equipped fighters joined the fray. When the mortars fell quiet, he could barely make out booms from north of the city, where the troops he’d left there engaged the enemy at the rear barricade with grenades, hopefully with equivalent results to those his frontal assault force was enjoying.

  Elijah’s men were in complete disarray, and many dropped their weapons and tried running away from the city as fast as they could, hoping to save themselves from what was coming over the ridge. Those who chose to fight were overwhelmed by Lucas’s superior firepower and more seasoned troops, and by daybreak the battle was over and the valley floor was littered with the dead and dying.

  Lucas descended from his perch and went to meet the heavily armed contingent that had emerged from the Provo barricade.

  “You Thomas?” Lucas asked the tall man at the head of the procession.

  “That’s right. Lucas, I presume?”

  They shook hands, and Thomas took in the carnage around him. He shook his head and his face twisted with a look of disgust. “What a…a travesty. Completely avoidable. So much death…”

  Lucas gave a small shrug. “They came looking for a fight. We gave them what they asked for.”

  “And the bioweapon?”

  “Complete fabrication.”

  Thomas looked around. “How many men did you lose?”

  “We’re still tallying, but fewer than a hundred.”

  “There must be thousands here.”

  “A good friend once told me that the point of battle is to win while suffering the fewest casualties possible. Seemed smart at the time. Smarter now.”

  “Agreed. It’s just…such a shame.” Thomas paused. “When you’re done out here, your people in town are looking forward to seeing you. One young lady in particular.”

  Lucas smiled. “Glad to hear it. But first I want your help in ID’ing the crazy preacher. Can you take a look in the warehouse and pick him out?”

  “Certainly.”

  They walked together through an ocean of blood and corpses and entered the warehouse. Thomas eyed the dead in the gloom, and Lucas turned over any of the bodies that had fallen facedown. They reached the rear door and Lucas swung it open to admit more light. Thomas joined him and shook his head.

  “He’s not here.”

  “What? He has to be. This was the only place there was any activity.”

  “He’s very recognizable. He isn’t here.”

  Lucas’s face clouded. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Lucas stepped outside and waved away the flies – the only beneficiaries of the slaughter – and eyed the horizon, breathing heavily, lost in thought.

  Chapter 43

  Amber Hot Springs, Colorado

  Three men sat at the fire pit, a deck of dog-eared playing cards sitting on the stone. Piles of small rocks from the nearby stream in front of them served as chips. They’d been there for nearly a month, instructed by their leader to remain in place in case any of the Shangri-La stragglers showed their faces, but they hadn’t seen or heard a soul the entire time and were now bored out of their minds.

  “Hit me,” said Joel, a young man in his early twenties with a scruff of wiry beard.

  “You’re going to go bust again, you moron,” answered the man who was dealing.

  “Screw you, Gabe. I want another card. You’ve taken as many of my rocks as you’re going to.”

  “You never learn. Hitting on seventeen? You’re giving morons a bad name. How many times have I had to explain this to you?”

  “I want a card. You going to give it to me, or do I have to beat it out of you?”

  The third man, his head shaved clean each morning with a razor-sharp knife he spent endless hours honing, snorted. “You two need to get a room and work this out. I swear you’re worse than my ex-wife, and that’s saying a lot.”

  “You’re just pissed ’cause I keep winning,” Gabe said. “I’m trying to explain to moron boy here how the game’s played, but he’s too thick to catch on.”

  The third man had just opened his mouth to respond when a small hole materialized in his forehead an instant before the sharp crack of a rifle reached them. He fell backward, dead, and Gabe and Joel stared at him in shock.

  Another shot rang out, and the side of Gabe’s throat exploded in a fountain of blood. His carotid artery showered crimson on the card deck, and he slumped forward as Joel reached for his rifle.

  A voice called from the trees, “Don’t try it or you’re next.”

  Joel froze, his eyes wide as saucers, and stared at the apparition that emerged from the trees – a lanky man with tattoos covering his face and arms, who was pointing an assault rifle at him. A pair of rough-looking trail bums followed him from the forest, also toting guns.

  “You…you killed them,” Joel sputtered.

  Snake smirked. “The man’s a genius.” He looked to Eddy. “Take his weapons. Search him good.”

  Eddy complied and frisked Joel roughly before grabbing his rifle and pistol and tossing them aside.

  “What…? I don’t have anything to take. A few spare rounds. That’s it,” Joel said.

  “We’re not after your ammo,” Snake replied.

  Joel’s confusion deepened. “The
n…what?”

  “Where are they?”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Eddy’s gun butt slammed Joel in the skull so hard his teeth rattled, and he blacked out.

  When he came to, his hands and feet were bound, and a small fire was crackling in the fire pit.

  “Look,” Clint said. “Sleeping Beauty’s awake!”

  Joel tried to sit up, but couldn’t. He looked down at his feet and saw that his pants were stained – he’d wet himself while passed out.

  Snake stuck his knife blade in the flames and eyed Joel. “You’re going to tell me where everyone went, and you’re going to tell me the truth, or you’re going to feel pain like you’ve never dreamed possible – pain so bad that you’ll beg for death.”

  Joel’s head swam and his vision blurred. Eddy leaned down and slapped his face.

  “Pay attention.”

  “I have no idea what you want,” Joel cried, his eyes tearing from the blow.

  “I told you – I want to know where they went.”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone who lived here. Shangri-La. You know damned well who.”

  “I…I don’t know. I swear. All I know is our guys went after them. Followed their trail. That’s it.”

  “What trail?” Snake asked.

  “Up past the hot springs. You can’t miss it. Looks like elephants went through there.”

  Snake snapped his fingers, and Eddy took off up the path that led to the springs. He returned several minutes later, just as Snake was removing his knife and admiring the blackened blade.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Eddy said.

  Snake resumed. “Who’re your guys?”

  “From Denver. We’re part of Elijah’s church.”

  Snake and Eddy exchanged a glance. “A church? Why are you following Shangri-La?”

  “Elijah wants revenge on them for killing his father.”

  Snake stuck the knife back into the flames and leaned forward. “Start at the beginning and tell us what’s going on.”

  Joel tried, to the best of his knowledge. Snake verified that the story didn’t change under torture, and when he was through, he wiped the blood-encrusted knife on Joel’s shirt and grinned. “You ever been in jail?” he asked softly.

  Joel only managed a faint gurgle.

  “There’s a little initiation for the new meat. That’s what they call newbies who’ve just been locked up. Usually happens in the showers, but sometimes in the cells.” Snake grinned again, slid his knife into its sheath, and fumbled with his belt. “You a virgin? Going to hell a virgin’s a lousy way to go. But don’t worry. Me and the boys will help you out.”

  A flock of birds rose into the air at the first of Joel’s bloodcurdling screams, and then the clearing fell silent, the burbling of the brook in the trees the only sound other than pained gasping from the fire pit and an occasional laugh.

  Chapter 44

  Provo, Utah

  Sierra ran to Lucas and he enfolded her in his arms. Their kiss lasted a small eternity, and when he released her, he looked down at Eve and Tim.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  “I told them you’d come back,” Eve said. “I don’t think they believed me, but I told them.”

  “That’s right. She did,” Sierra said, devouring him with her eyes. “Rough time?”

  “The usual.”

  “I figured it had to be you when I heard all the shooting.”

  “Good guess.”

  “Where’s Ruby?”

  “In Newport. She’s gone to get that bunch and lead them to safety.”

  “They’re saying a train brought you?”

  Lucas nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again. “I’ve got a lot of time.”

  He made a face. “I need a bath.”

  Sierra smiled. “I know someone who’ll give you one.”

  “How have the kids been behaving?”

  “They’re little angels. Don’t change the subject. The train?”

  Elliot’s voice from down the street interrupted them. “Well, well. The prodigal returns with a bang. Literally. How are you, Lucas?”

  “Could use some shut-eye. Other than that, in one piece.”

  “I hear there’s nothing left of Elijah’s army except some prisoners.”

  “That’s right. They done kicked the wrong hornet’s nest.”

  “Absolutely remarkable. You have a knack for coming to the rescue just in the nick of time.”

  “The locals would have fended them off. They were a bunch of disorganized civilians with guns. A mob.”

  “Mobs can be dangerous,” Elliot observed.

  “Maybe,” Lucas allowed. “So you’re settled in here?”

  Elliot nodded. “Provo’s been nothing but good to us. I think you’re going to enjoy living here.”

  Lucas’s eyes flitted to the side and then fixed on Elliot. “May be a while before I can settle down.”

  Sierra’s mouth formed an O and she took a step back. “What are you talking about, Lucas? You just got here.”

  “I know. I’m just saying there’s a lot of moving parts to what we’re doing.”

  He told them about the Freedom Army and the train, and that there’d soon be another three thousand men joining them.

  “They can’t all stay here,” Elliot warned. “The council would never allow it.”

  “They’re not looking to stay anywhere. They’re a fighting force. And they’ve got a job to do.”

  “What job?” Sierra blurted. “You’re talking crazy. Did you get hit on the head? This is over. We’re safe. You’re back. I…Lucas, I need you here. With me. Your family needs you.”

  Lucas tilted his head to look at Eve and Tim, and then Sierra. “I know, Sierra. Believe me. We can talk about it later.”

  “You just got back and you’re telling me you’re leaving again?” Sierra said, her tone bordering on shrill.

  Elliot’s cheeks colored. “Sorry to barge in, Lucas. Perhaps you can swing by my house when you have a moment? I’m down at the end of this row. And the house next to mine is Duke’s.”

  “Sure, Elliot. Maybe tomorrow. I’m beat.”

  “Very well. Nice to have you back,” Elliot said, and made his escape as Sierra glared holes through Lucas.

  “Okay. He’s gone. Time to tell me what’s going on, Lucas,” Sierra said, making a visible effort to control herself.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m a quick study.”

  Lucas sighed. “Let me get cleaned up and fed, and then I’ll tell you everything.” He held out his hand to her, and she hesitated before taking it.

  “Where’s Tango?” she asked.

  “On the train. He’ll be along shortly, I expect.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “Start with the train, Lucas. That sounds as good a place as any.”

  He shook his head. “No. Best to start at the beginning. Which I’ll do after I scrub the road dust off of me.”

  “Lucas…”

  “Sierra, I know you deserve an explanation, and I’ll give you one. But it’s going to take some explaining, and right now I haven’t slept in about a week, and I can barely hear from rifle fire and explosions. So let me get cleaned up and rested, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Sierra blinked back her tears and looked away. “I missed you, Lucas. I don’t want to spend my life missing you. Is that too much to ask?”

  Lucas squeezed her hand. “I missed you too, Sierra. And no. That’s reasonable,” he said, and it was his turn to look away, his face drawn and his expression fatigued. “Only we don’t live in a reasonable world. At least, not yet.”

  Sierra didn’t say anything. Lucas’s eyes returned to her profile and he pulled her closer. “I’ll explain everything later. Right now, show me our new house and tell me what you and the kids have been up to. We’ll have plenty
of time to talk later.”

  Sierra looked unconvinced, but she softened and let her body mold to his.

  Eve stared at Lucas with her placid blue eyes, and her lips pursed. “You’re not staying, are you?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “For a while, I will,” Lucas said, and then tugged on Sierra’s hand. “I could sleep for a year, Sierra.”

  “Then stay and do that.”

  He exhaled and managed a tight smile. “Come on. Show me our new digs.”

  Thanks for reading The Day After Never – Legion,

  (Book VIII in the Day After Never series.)

  I hope you enjoyed it.

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  Turn the page to read an excerpt from

  A Girl Apart

  Excerpt from A Girl Apart

  © Russell Blake 2017 – all rights reserved

  Chapter 1

  Ciudad Juárez, Mexico

  Emilia ran tired fingers through her thick ebony hair as she and a pair of co-workers pushed through the iron gates of the factory grounds. They offered waves to a grinning security guard and continued down the cracked sidewalk, the darkness enveloping the street as the spotlights from the compound faded behind them. In the dim light she squinted at her fingers, whose nails were worn to the quick by another twelve-hour shift on an assembly line that never stopped. She sighed. Although barely out of her teens, Emilia had the hands of a middle-aged fishwife, and her joints ached like those of a geriatric, not a slim young woman with a quick smile and a bouncing step.

 

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