The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels)

by Russell Blake

  Luis was the one who suggested finding a whorehouse, and Ross had enthusiastically seconded the idea until doubts had surfaced over how Cano would react. Luis assured him that he wouldn’t tell Cano and that it could stay between them. When Ross agreed, Luis smiled inwardly, the move a calculated one to earn the dolt’s trust and give Luis leverage over him.

  They made for a brothel that stayed open round the clock. They were stopped by a patrol on the way, but when they told the men their destination, all had laughed and wished them luck.

  Chapter 35

  Magnus stood with Snake and the rest of his inner circle, watching the preparations for his battle force to roll. Twenty diesel buses had been fueled in the parking lot of the church he used as his headquarters, and he waited as his men loaded the cargo holds with weapons and supplies. A row of semi-rigs with livestock carriers were lined at the front, and still more Crew members led horses aboard, the front sections containing bales of feed stacked to the ceiling. Nearby, a procession of Humvees was being readied; crews checked their oil and tires as his technical team hooked trailers to them for ammunition and supplies.

  Four olive green M777 Howitzers were grouped near the parking lot entry, where hundreds of shells rested in crates, waiting to be loaded onto a tractor trailer. The artillery and ammunition had been looted from an abandoned armory – the only four that hadn’t been disabled by the staff. Whitely had managed to make them operational using parts filched from other big guns, the computer systems being the touchiest parts.

  Magnus strode to his senior general with Snake in tow. “Jude, what’s our departure time?” he barked.

  “Another hour, at least. Lot to onload.”

  “How many men, total?”

  “Nine hundred and seventy of our best.”

  “How long do you estimate it’ll take to get there?”

  “Three days if we run round the clock.”

  “Which we will. How are we set for spare parts?”

  “We’ll have two trucks with tires, repair kits, belts, oil, the usual. I’d like to have twice as many, but we’ll make do.”

  “Cano’s driver said the road to Pecos is relatively clear.”

  “Yes. It’s the highway north that’s the unknown. We can assume we’ll have to remove vehicles along the way. That’s why we’re bringing three tow trucks.” Jude paused. “My biggest concern is supply lines. We’ll need to have plenty of food and water, and trying to carry enough to last us over a week will use more fuel than we can spare. As it is, we probably won’t be able to make it all the way back. Not enough diesel for a round trip with a force this size.”

  “We’ve been over this already. I don’t care. We’ll worry about getting back once we’ve destroyed their base. Worst case, we can ride cross country to Lubbock and use some of their vehicles.”

  “They have almost no fuel left.”

  Magnus waved the statement away. “Where do you plan to commandeer supplies en route?”

  “Roswell, and then Albuquerque. From there we should be fine. If this goes more than ten days, we can hit Santa Fe, too.”

  Magnus nodded. “Then you’ve thought everything through?”

  “Yes. As much as we could in the time we had.” He paused. “I’ve mapped out the best route – fortunately, there’s a highway all the way to Los Alamos, so we’ll never be off the pavement. We should be able to make good progress.”

  “According to Cano, they’re only three hundred strong. If your men can’t grind them into hamburger in short order, you have no right to call yourselves Crew.”

  Jude frowned but said nothing. He knew as well as anyone that you contradicted Magnus at your peril. Once he had an idea in his head, he didn’t want to hear anything that wasn’t in line with his assumptions. Privately, Jude wasn’t as glib as his master, as he’d had actual combat experience in the Middle East. He’d seen tribesmen inflict horrendous casualties on the best armed, best trained forces on the planet, and understood that, absent aerial and satellite support, nothing was a given, no matter how determined Magnus might be.

  “Very well,” Magnus continued, turning to his inner circle. “Snake will be in provisional charge during my absence. You’re to follow his orders as though I was here. Is that clear?”

  The men nodded with expressions ranging from neutral to displeased. Snake had his rivals among the group, where Magnus’s favor was the only currency that mattered, and they constantly worked to undermine each other in his eyes. Snake’s appointment as their surrogate master hadn’t sat well with some, but they’d held their tongues, wary of provoking Magnus.

  “Don’t worry. There shouldn’t be any surprises,” Snake said.

  Magnus acknowledged him and then moved to the artillery. “We know these work?” he demanded.

  “Whitely assured us they do.” Jude hesitated. “I wish we had time to get him down here from Lubbock.”

  “Well, we don’t,” Magnus snapped. He watched as a group of his fighters checked their weapons near one of the buses, donning plate carriers and loading magazines, some practicing fieldstripping their rifles under the watchful eyes of their squad leaders, and then nodded.

  “Call me when we’re ready to roll. I have some last minute items to attend to.”

  Magnus hurried back to the church, where he had a radio transmission scheduled with the Apaches to negotiate a price for his army to cross their territory. Whether he would actually pay it or simply wipe them out, he hadn’t decided yet, but he was leaning toward killing them – after all, he was a conquering head of state. Why would he pay for what he could take for free? He had more than enough firepower, and it would be good practice for his men – whet their appetite for blood.

  But he would make that determination once he saw what he was up against. With almost a thousand fighters, he was mounting the largest fighting force he’d ever heard of post-collapse, and the sight and sound of a motorized army bearing down at high speed would cow anyone planning on challenging him. Like his idols Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun, he would sweep across the land like a plague, destroying everything in his way.

  The thought made him grin. Finally, he was fulfilling his destiny, preparing for the final battle that would decide who ruled the world – a battle he would not lose.

  Chapter 36

  After a grueling day’s ride to Los Alamos, the final approach through the canyons draining what resources Tango and Nugget had left, the sentries held Lucas and Sierra at gunpoint until Arnold could be reached on the radio to confirm that they were to be admitted. As the light went out of the western sky, their approach to the compound was notably less celebratory than their first. No bands of joyous riders greeted them, no crowd of well-wishers waited to make them feel like honored guests.

  Arnold, Michael, and Elliot stood by the main building with a small group of men as Lucas guided Sierra and two of the Crew’s horses loaded with their weapons and ammo toward the entrance. They dismounted, and four stable boys came at a run to take the animals. Elliot cleared his throat and motioned to them to follow him inside.

  “Come. We have a lot to discuss,” he said, none of his usual good humor in evidence.

  Sierra looked down at her dusty pants and hands. “Lucas knows everything that I do. If you don’t mind, after two days with no sleep, I’ll sit this one out.”

  Lucas glanced briefly at the men and then nodded. “No reason for you to be there. Get some rest.”

  “I want to see Eve first. Is she in there?” she asked, motioning to the sleeping quarters.

  Arnold nodded. “She’s with your friend Ruby.”

  “I’m sorry I caused you any trouble,” Sierra said, her tone contrite. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Elliot didn’t speak. Arnold snapped his fingers, and one of the men moved toward the bunk hall, the unspoken message clear as a bell: she would be watched around the clock. The man sat by the front door after Sierra disappeared inside, and Lucas shook his head. “Probably don’t need to do that.
Just let the sentries know that nobody’s to leave.”

  Arnold gave him a hard look. “Appreciate the advice, but our sandbox, our rules.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “This way,” Elliot said, and led them into the building, where they sat at a rough-hewn wood table. Toby, Ken, and Richard joined them from outside, and Arnold leaned forward with a dour expression on his face.

  “Your radio report was rather cryptic,” he started. Lucas had transmitted from Los Alamos to indicate he was on final approach, and had requested an immediate gathering of everyone concerned with security.

  “That was deliberate,” Lucas said. “I figured you wouldn’t want the whole camp to hear what I have to say.”

  “Well, we’re all here now. Spill the beans.”

  Lucas gave them a terse report about his attack on Cano’s camp, Tarak’s death, and Sierra’s news that the Crew had been told Shangri-La’s location. When he was done, the men’s complexions were pale – all except Arnold, who was flushed with anger.

  “I told you it was mistake to allow strangers here,” he snapped, pounding his fist on the table.

  “Yes, you did. And I overruled you,” Elliot said. “Which, believe me, I now regret.” The patriarch queried Lucas, “How large a force did she say again?”

  “A thousand men. Motorized, so here within a week. Certainly no more.”

  Michael frowned. “A week? Then we need to get busy.”

  Arnold snorted. “Get busy? Against a thousand men? How? There’s no way we can repel that many attackers. They’ll overwhelm us.”

  “What are you saying?” Elliot asked softly.

  “We need to leave.”

  Michael shook his head. “Out of the question. We’ve always known there might come a time when we were attacked. That was part of the logic in choosing this location – we can hold out indefinitely. We have water, food, power…worst case, we can wait for winter to do our work for us. Any attacking force has the problem of supply lines and then the snowstorms and freezing cold. We’re used to it, and we’re prepared. They would be at nature’s mercy.”

  “You’re dreaming,” Arnold said. “They’d just take cover in Los Alamos. Plenty of the buildings there are serviceable.”

  “Then that’s one of the first things we need to do – destroy anything that could provide shelter. Scorched earth,” Michael countered.

  Lucas watched the exchange without comment. Elliot noted his silence and sat back with a hard stare. “What do you think, Lucas?”

  “Who cares what he thinks?” Arnold snapped. “Who’s responsible for security here, anyway? Me or him? Or Michael?”

  “I care, Arnold,” Elliot said. “I don’t undervalue your perspective, but I want to hear everyone’s before making any decisions.”

  Arnold’s frown creased his face into a death mask. Lucas inhaled slowly, and when he spoke, his tone was soft.

  “Seems like you have natural defenses. If it was me, I’d plant charges at key spots in the canyon and use landslides against any riders. That’s an easy one – it blocks the route with rubble and takes a bunch of them off the board.” He let the idea sink in before continuing. “I’d also look at antipersonnel weapons. Claymores. Land mines. Anything that can inflict damage without risking anyone’s life from here. Mine the entire canyon if you can. And blow the bridge that crosses the river. Make them fight and claw for every inch.”

  Arnold nodded in spite of his anger. “Not bad,” he conceded. “Probably doable. We have some mines, and we could make more. For the record, I drew up a plan to mine the approaches a few years back, so we’re on the same page.”

  Lucas shifted in his seat. “Shall I go on?”

  “Please,” Elliot said.

  “If you have any grenade launchers or rockets, save those for after you’ve used all the mines and landslides.” He paused. “My grandfather gave me some advice a long time ago, and it makes a lot of sense now. The question was, how do you eat an elephant? The answer: one bite at a time. If you know there’s going to be a big force coming at you, you need to break the attack down into a series of manageable battles where you can take five or ten of them for every one of you. So if I was running the show, I’d stage things so that instead of a siege, you draw them into a slew of skirmishes where you can even the odds through attrition. That means guerilla warfare. Snipers. Mines. Sneak attacks. Blowing bridges, dropping bombs. Anything that can compensate for your smaller numbers.”

  “Man’s got a point,” Michael said.

  “How many able-bodied fighters do you have? I know you said three hundred live here, but I’ve seen a bunch of kids and some older folks…”

  “About two hundred and fifty, give or take,” Michael said, looking to Arnold.

  “That’s right,” Arnold said. “But back up a second. You said drop bombs?”

  Lucas nodded. “Sure. You have a plane. That’s an air force. If you can figure out how to make some homemade napalm, that would cause some damage. Make it as ugly to take you on as possible. If the cost is high enough, they might lose the stomach for the fight. Although from what I’ve heard, Magnus won’t quit.”

  They went back and forth for two hours, arguing the finer points of mounting a coherent defense. After the meeting, Arnold pulled Lucas aside as he was leaving, the deep discoloration beneath his eyes telling the story of his exhaustion.

  “I wanted to say that was pretty impressive for a civilian,” Arnold began.

  “I just threw some crap at the wall to see what sticks. You had most of that covered. My ideas were icing.”

  “Not true. Sometimes it’s important for the Doc to hear different voices. He places a lot of faith in Michael, but Michael doesn’t have a background in this sort of thing.”

  Lucas shrugged. “I don’t want to get involved in any power struggles.”

  “No, that’s not it. I guess what I’m saying is that we need every resource we can leverage, and you even managed to convince me that we might stand a chance defending the valley. And I walked in saying we needed to leave.” Arnold studied Lucas. “That’s a hell of a hat trick.”

  “Never got good at running,” Lucas said. “It’s easy to start, but then it becomes a habit. You got enough ammo and explosives here – don’t see why you couldn’t take them on.”

  “What if they order up reinforcements?”

  “After losing a thousand men? Not sure I’d sign up for round two if I was the cannon fodder.”

  “Only thing I disagree with is taking the fight to them. We don’t have enough competent people to dilute our efforts like that.”

  “Again, none of my business. Do whatever you think is right. I just spitballed some stuff.” Lucas yawned. “Look, Arnold, I’m dead on my feet. I need some sleep. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

  Arnold nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Anyway, I just wanted to say that maybe I was wrong about all strangers being a bad idea.”

  Lucas exhaled and adjusted his hat. “In this case, you were right about the guide. Sierra wasn’t trying to sell you out. He was, and he did a good job of it.”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “Yep. Which reminds me. If you have any demolitions experts, I’d get to that bridge sooner than later, and I’d also look at alternative approaches and fortify those. Remind me again – you got any big machine guns?”

  “Three Browning .50s.”

  “That’s a decent start, depending on how you deploy them. Good thing you have NV gear. Because they’ll come at night once they start losing men. That’s how I’d do it.”

  Arnold watched Lucas make his way to the sleeping quarters with a pensive expression. The former Texas Ranger had demonstrated why the organization had been one of the most respected law enforcement groups in the country – and he’d done so after being sleep deprived and shell-shocked from a gun battle that had been seven against one.

  Chapter 37

  The Crew army had crossed almost two hundred miles of highway
by the time the sun had risen. The column of overloaded vehicles stretched a half mile long, led by the tow trucks whose hoods had been equipped with heavy iron pipes filled with cement for battering ram bumpers that made short work of the odd car the larger buses and semi-rigs couldn’t get past.

  So far they’d lost three tires – two on the buses, one on a horse trailer. The problem was the age of the rubber, which had degraded with time and sun exposure. Even though the procession was crawling along, the weight was considerable, and it had become obvious within the first twelve hours that Magnus’s hope of a rapid trip was overoptimistic.

  The fighters slept in their seats as the buses growled down the highway, and Magnus dozed in the rear of one of the Humvees that had been customized as his command vehicle with a bed in the back, as well as steel plating on the doors and run-flat tires in case of attack. The force stopped every eight hours to refuel; the process took several hours, further slowing their progress and increasing Magnus’s frustration with each delay.

  He could taste victory now that his nemesis had been located. While he would like to take the girl alive – he knew from the Apaches that the travelers had a female child with them – if he had to kill her, he would. The rush to develop the vaccine would be over once the parallel effort of Shangri-La had been eliminated, and his technicians had assured him that even without her they would have it in a matter of months.

  The Humvee lurched to a halt with a squeak of brakes, and Magnus sat up and called out to the driver, “What is it now?”

  The radio in the cab crackled and a voice screeched from the speaker. The driver yelled back to Magnus, “One of the horse transports lost a radiator hose.”

  “Damn. Let me have the radio,” Magnus ordered.

  The driver handed it to him through a sliding window and Magnus growled into it.