Chapter 49
The rain had increased again as the tail end of the storm passed over Roswell, and waves of water lashed the outside of the truck stop as the group huddled inside. More thunder had awakened them a few minutes earlier, and they were now sitting around a small fire Frank had built deep in the interior, where its flames wouldn’t be seen from the outside, given the downpour.
Ruby and Sierra, Eve’s head in her lap, stared at the fire as though in a trance, the smoke drifting to the rafters before finding a hole to escape through. Frank stood by the entrance, gun in hand, protecting his night vision from the firelight. Colt and Bruce were further away, Colt busying himself cleaning his weapons, and Bruce contenting himself with watching everyone else.
“Poor horses. They’re getting soaked. Maybe we should bring them in?” Sierra asked.
Frank shrugged. “They don’t mind. Not like they have umbrellas in the wild. It rains, they get wet. Then they dry off. They’re hardier than we are.”
“You mentioned that we’ll be traveling through your tribe’s territory. What makes it theirs?” Ruby asked.
“We took it back after the collapse. Mescalero Apache. Everything north of Roswell to just south of Albuquerque.” Frank paused. “People forget that originally this was all ours. Everything. The settlers and the white man’s army came and slaughtered the Native Americans so they could confiscate our land. All we’ve done is taken back what we can defend. We charge a toll to travel north, and east to west, or vice versa.”
“It’s reasonable,” Colt agreed.
“What’s funny is that since the collapse, our lives haven’t changed that much – if anything, they’ve improved,” Frank said. “We weren’t tied to the cities, to the grid, so we were better prepared to return to the old ways. That collective knowledge has served us well.”
Ruby nodded. “I would imagine so. We’ve seen that with other places. The rural towns have fared better than the cities.”
Frank smiled, the expression creasing his face with sadness. “Cities are unnatural. It always struck me as funny that people wanted to crowd together on top of each other when there’s so much space. Don’t get me wrong, I spent some time in them when I went to college, but I never felt comfortable. Claustrophobic.”
“What did you major in?” Ruby asked.
“Geology. Kind of a childhood obsession.”
“Ah.”
“My people are very protective of their newfound land, and nobody crosses it without paying the toll. You’ve paid, so you’ll pass through without problems.”
Bruce rose. “I gotta use the can.”
“World’s your toilet,” Frank said, indicating the drizzle outside.
Bruce pushed past him and Colt’s eyes followed him into the darkness. “Where did you pick him up?”
“He’s a tech guy – can repair anything. I’ve known him for a while. We stayed at his place in Artesia while we were lying low,” Ruby explained. “Why?”
Colt shrugged. “More bodies means more resources required. That, and they’re very picky about who they let in.” Colt didn’t mention Shangri-La in front of Frank. “Not sure he’s got the kind of attitude they like.”
“He grows on you,” Sierra said. “Like fungus.”
They all laughed, and then a shot rang out. Frank dropped his rifle and opened his mouth to speak, and blood gushed from it down his chin. He pitched forward, eyes wide, gasping on the filthy ground like a beached fish, and Bruce stepped into the building with his H&K pistol in hand.
“What the hell–” Colt said, reaching for his gun.
Bruce was on him in a split second and slammed the butt of his pistol into the bartender’s temple. Colt went down, eyes rolled up into his head, and Bruce leaned over and scooped up his weapon, his gaze on Ruby and Sierra, the younger woman clutching Eve to her chest protectively.
“Bruce–” Ruby started.
“Shut up.” Bruce shook his head. “You’re really not all that smart, are you? Doesn’t surprise me. Did you know the average IQ in America is ninety-eight? I Googled it once. I don’t know why I keep expecting people to be smarter.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Why shoot Frank?”
“Why shoot Frank?” Bruce mimicked. “He was the most dangerous of the bunch, and he’s got no value. Colt there, maybe. Sierra and Eve? A ton.”
“Value?”
Bruce smirked. “Do you really believe that I didn’t hear the broadcasts offering a reward for you?”
“You’d turn us in to those…those animals?”
Bruce shrugged. “It’s nothing personal. Strictly business. You’re worth a lot alive, and I have you. That makes me rich.”
“But Shangri-La,” Sierra began.
“You mean the magical kingdom where chocolate rivers flow and the sky’s filled with marshmallow clouds?” He shook his head in disgust. “You people are truly delusional.”
“It’s real, Bruce.”
“You’re really out of your minds is more like it. Let me tell you what’s real: the big fish eats the smaller one, and then another even bigger one comes along and eats him. That’s real. Some Disneyland ideal in a hidden valley? Let me guess – the earth’s flat and aliens rule the world. Am I close?”
“You’re making a big mistake. They’ll kill you,” Ruby said.
“The only mistake I made was letting my handheld radio get wet in the saddlebags. Now I’ve got to wait for it to dry out to alert your boys to come collect you.” He held up a small radio. “But that’s okay. Not like we’re in any hurry. You’re not going anywhere, and Frank sure as hell isn’t.” He laughed harshly.
“You don’t know the Crew, Bruce. They’ll put a bullet in you the second they have us,” Sierra said.
“They have no reason to. I give them what they’re looking for, plus the bonus of another nutcase who believes in fairy tales, and they pay me. Simple transaction. Who knows? Maybe they could use someone who can repair anything. By the sound of it, they’re increasing their reach, so it could be a growth opportunity.”
“You make me sick. There’s more to life than money,” Ruby spat.
“Spoken by an old crone who’s at the end of her runway. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live in a trailer in Hicksville, surrounded by morons? Are those the people who I’m supposed to believe my life would be better spent respecting than looking out for myself? Like I said, you’re delusional.” He shifted his aim to Ruby. “And frankly, you’re also valueless in this equation.”
“That’s all we are to you? Pawns in a transaction?”
“That’s all you’ve ever been to anyone. You talk about sickening – you’re the ones who’ve been living in a dream world. You really believe that the machine you obeyed before the collapse saw you as anything but sheep to be fleeced? Come on. You couldn’t cross the street without permission. You lived in a police state with twenty-four-hour surveillance. You had to pay most of what you earned to a government that couldn’t have cared less whether you lived or died, except for what it meant to its bottom line. Where did you get all these high-minded ideas about your value? You were just worker ants then, and you’re worker ants now. Only I’m the one who will benefit from your cluelessness instead of them. You? You’re in the same position.”
Sierra looked past Bruce. He followed her eyes and spun just in time to avoid Colt charging him. Bruce slammed him in the head with his gun again, and Colt crumpled, his hand to his skull.
“Another one that doesn’t learn,” Bruce said, and then turned back to Ruby, gun raised. “Been nice knowing you, but I’m afraid it’s time to go to Valhalla, or whatever bullshit you think happens when you die.”
This time Ruby looked over Bruce’s shoulder, but instead of turning, he smirked and held his weapon steady. “Won’t work this time. Oldest trick in the book. Make your peace.”
“Drop the gun,” Lucas’s voice called from the entryway.
Bruce’s pupils contracted to dots as he pirouetted
, gun in hand, crouching low as he turned. Lucas’s Kimber barked three times. The hollow-point rounds slammed Bruce backwards, exiting in bloody divots the size of tennis balls. Sierra screamed and held her hands over Eve’s ears as she clutched the little girl to her, shielding her eyes from the gruesome spectacle. Bruce staggered sideways and then toppled like a felled tree, his gun clattering by his side.
Lucas stepped through the doorway and holstered the Kimber. Sierra leapt to her feet and ran to him while Ruby comforted Eve.
“You’re alive!” Sierra cried, and then they were kissing, water running down Lucas’s face onto hers. Lucas was surprised by the measure of passion he felt, but told himself it was relief, even if he suspected it was something more.
“Took you long enough,” Ruby said from beside the fire.
Sierra pulled away, and Lucas gave a lopsided smile. “Got a flesh wound that kinda held me up.”
“You’re wounded? Where?” Sierra demanded.
“My side. But it’s not going to kill me.” He exhaled a measured breath. “Would you get the first aid kit out of my saddlebag and patch me up? And then we need to get out of here – the gunfire’s going to draw the bad guys, as well as the town patrols, even in this soup.” Lucas looked down at Colt. “You okay?”
“Going to have a headache for a few days, but nothing fatal,” Colt said, sitting with his hand to his head.
“Got a pretty good gash there. Make that two patch-ups, and then we’re gone.” Lucas turned to where Frank lay dead. “Who’s that?”
“Our guide.”
“That going to be a problem?” Lucas asked.
“Maybe,” Colt responded.
Lucas considered the dead man. “We’ll deal with it when it is. Those shots will draw everyone we don’t want. Let’s get some bandages on us and ride. You know the way, right?”
Colt nodded. “Up the road.”
“The way Frank made it sound, without a guide to take us through, it’s going to be hell trying to make it,” Ruby observed.
Colt grunted. “Maybe not hell, but if the Apaches don’t buy our story, maybe purgatory.”
“And from there? Then what?” Lucas asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Colt said, ending the discussion.
Sierra returned with the kit, and Lucas removed his sopping flak vest and shirt. Sierra made short work of the bullet wound, which, using Ruby’s penlight, she verified had done no significant damage other than drain Lucas of blood. After wiping it clean, she closed it with butterfly stitches. A final application of antibacterial ointment and a bandage finished the job, and then she turned to Colt, whose injury only required a couple of sutures and some salve.
“You’re going to have an ugly bump for a couple of days, but other than that, looks like you got away light,” she informed him.
Colt glanced over at Frank’s corpse. “I’ll say.”
They gathered their things and Lucas said a prayer over Frank and even Bruce as they stood with heads bowed. Their amen, at least for Frank, was heartfelt, and then they collected Frank’s rifle and were out in the drizzle, riding through the darkness toward the intersection, and from there, the unknown.
Chapter 50
Cano drew his horse up short when they reached the truck stop, drawn by the sound of the shots, and dismounted outside of the main building, AK-47 in hand. Luis followed him through the entrance, and they stopped at the sight of Bruce’s and Frank’s corpses lying in the rubble.
“There’s your answer as to who was shooting,” Luis said.
Cano nodded. “But what does it mean? Two dead men – and no way of knowing whether they’re even related to our woman.”
“Awfully coincidental.”
The Crew boss frowned. “I don’t know that it’s that coincidental. We’re a long way from the lake. A pair of drifters get knocked off five hours later? Could be unrelated. We should go back to the lake and continue searching for a trail to follow.”
“Wonder where their guns are.”
“Whoever shot them probably took them.”
Luis strode to the remains of the fire, his boots crunching on debris underfoot, and felt it. “Still warm.”
“Not surprising. We know the shots were only a half hour ago.” Cano moved to something on the ground, pulled a flashlight from his plate carrier, and flicked it on.
“What is it?” Luis asked.
Cano picked up the long strip of bloody fabric and examined it before dropping it on the floor and straightening. “Looks like a man’s shirt soaked with blood. Or at least the sleeves.” He walked over to the dead men and played the beam over their bodies. “Not one of theirs.”
Luis joined him. “Shine your light over there,” he said, pointing to an area near the remains of the fire. Cano did as asked, and Luis nodded. “See that? Looks like someone cleared that spot so they could lie down there. More than one person, by the size of it. And recently – there’s no dust on the cement floor.”
“The two dead men could have done that.”
“True. But then where did the bandage come from?”
Cano’s face darkened with realization. “From whoever we wounded at the lake. Damn.” He made for the doorway, and Luis rushed to follow him.
Outside they looked at the wet pavement of the truck stop parking lot like detectives searching for clues. One of the Crew gunmen had a flashlight, and they split up, walking the perimeter of the lot. After ten minutes it was obvious that there were no tracks; the rain had wiped any traces clean, and the road north to the intersection was wet asphalt, so of no help.
When Luis joined Cano at the horses, the Crew boss’s expression was unreadable.
“What now?” Luis asked.
“Let’s assume this was them. The bandage seals it – the blood’s relatively fresh, and I agree that a wounded man wandering around the same night we hit someone at the lake isn’t coincidental. So what’s now is that we need to figure out where they went.”
Luis looked around at the drizzle. “How?”
“I didn’t say I know. I just told you what we need to do,” Cano snapped. He began pacing in the rain, his face a mask of rage. Luis said nothing, reasoning that Cano’s botched mission was his to work through. He’d already seen ample indications of the Crew leader’s violent temper on the ride from Pecos, and he didn’t want to have the man’s anger taken out on him.
Eventually Cano stopped pacing and retraced his steps to the truck stop interior. Luis called after him. “What are we doing?”
“Get in here and try to rest. We’ll wait until morning and then quiz the locals about this pair. Maybe someone knows them – there could be a clue in their identities. Right now, there’s nothing we can do. We’re screwed until daybreak and this storm blows by.”
The pair of surviving Crew gunmen tied their horses to a pole and Luis followed suit. He followed them in with his bedroll and spread it on the flat area near where the fire had recently blazed. Cano sat with his back to the wall at the edge of the cavernous space, gun in his lap, his eyes boring holes in the night. Luis called out to him as he adjusted himself on his pad.
“How are we going to get the locals to cooperate with us?”
Cano laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. “We’ll find a way to convince them.”
Luis leaned back and closed his eyes, his head swimming at the implication of Cano’s words, and wondered for the umpteenth time what he’d gotten involved in with his alliance with the Crew, and whether a life as a de facto servant to them was worth it.
As though reading his thoughts, Cano called out from the darkness. “We’ll call for reinforcements tomorrow at dawn. They won’t escape. We’ll follow them to the ends of the earth, and when we find them, they’ll wish they’d never been born. There’s no way in hell they get away. None.”
Luis closed his eyes and sighed.
He believed him.
<<<<>>>>
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Covenant
Russell Blake
Author’s Note
The Day After Never originally started out as a trilogy. I had a story that could be told in three episodes, each roughly 75K words, and my plan was to tie up all loose ends by the end of the final book.
Unfortunately, that’s not how things turned out.
As I wrote the third installment, an idea began to percolate, and by the end of this volume it was clear to me that I’d have to either write a fourth book, or this one would need to be double the word count, making it almost War and Peace length. That didn’t seem viable, so I decided to make the trilogy a four-part series, where I deal with the additional plot items that arose during Covenant’s creation in the final book.
Chapter 1
Duke lay on his stomach near a tiny stream, crossbow in hand and night vision goggles in place. The black nylon straps of the harness enveloped his head like a medieval torture device. Flashes of lightning crackled on the northern horizon, pulsing on the periphery of the night sky like artillery in a distant battle, though the storm was too far off to hear any accompanying thunder.
He’d been in position for a good half hour, waiting patiently for dinner to show itself, secure in the knowledge that it was a matter of time before some unwary animal came in search of water and ended its stay on the planet. He had gotten into the nocturnal hunting routine quickly once he and Aaron had reached his hidey hole in the foothills, and they’d dined on rabbit and venison since they’d arrived.
Duke had abandoned the trading post, hauling everything he could fit on an overloaded cart. He’d rigged several solar panels at his simple two-room cinder-block bunker, which provided sufficient power during the day to recharge the scope and operate the radio as well as a small refrigerator that barely kept their food below room temperature. He missed the conveniences in his old home but realized he’d made the right choice; the danger from the Locos had become too substantial to ignore. There was no question in Duke’s mind that the trading post had already been looted, but he felt nothing when he thought about it – the place had served its purpose, and he could open another one elsewhere once any heat had died down.
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