“I told you he was alive.”
Lucas closed his eyes and nodded. “That you did.”
“We’re going to do this, aren’t we?”
“If it can be done, we will.”
“You’ll find a way.”
He sighed, amazed at her faith in him, and smiled in the dark.
“One way or another.”
Chapter 34
New Orleans, Louisiana
Snake’s subordinate stood staring at his boots as he delivered his report. Zach sat nearby with Whitely, who’d arrived two days before to explain why the vaccine effort had stalled yet again and to assist Snake in dealing with Zach on the refinery issue. Snake didn’t understand most of the reasons Zach had given for why the Illuminati hadn’t yet gotten the refinery operating, and Whitely was his technical expert, chartered with negotiating with Zach and Lassiter to arrange for the plant to be brought online.
“The transmission came in last evening. The woman was spotted near Vicksburg, in a boat on the Mississippi,” the subordinate said.
“Why am I only hearing about it now?”
“It was received by Houston late in the day. There was nobody available to make a call on whether to disturb you until this morning.”
Snake’s eyes hardened. “Disturb me? I left orders that anything related to the woman was of top importance.”
“The radio operator received the information and tried to track down the security chief for that region, but he couldn’t find him until a few hours ago. He received the report at five a.m. He radioed us at six, after verifying a few details.”
“Only two hours ago,” Whitely said. “Continue.”
“They opened fire on the boat but were unable to stop it. It’s possible that it was hit multiple times, but they lost it once it was out of range.”
“So she was within reach and they flubbed it?” Snake growled.
Whitely shook his head. “Sounds like they did what they could. Remember we’re talking a field patrol with AKs. In the middle of nowhere. Can’t really expect much more than what they managed.” Whitely ignored Snake’s obvious agitation and continued. “A better question is why there, why now?”
“Who cares?” Snake snapped.
The subordinate cleared his throat. “They said the boat appeared to be heading to the Mississippi side.”
Zach spoke for the first time. “But why? Why travel from Springfield to Mississippi – a state overrun with the virus? That’s a death sentence. Why do it willingly? It’s common knowledge.”
Whitely drummed his fingers. “Must be some damn good reason.” He stood. “I need to use the radio and talk to my people in Houston, see what we have on the woman’s background.”
Whitely hurried from the room and returned twenty minutes later with a deep frown.
“Well?” Snake demanded.
“Her son was in a compound on the Mississippi side, near Vicksburg. Apparently we took him prisoner, and he’s working on a plantation in Alexandria.”
Zach nodded. “She’s after her son.” He threw up his hands at Whitely. “Why are we only now getting this information?”
Whitely shrugged. “I can’t be everywhere at once. I have nothing to do with this new effort to find the woman. I’ve got my hands full with the vaccine development in Lubbock, our pharmaceutical manufacturing, and security in Texas – and now, the refinery issue, which we’re making precious little progress on, incidentally.”
Snake nodded slowly. “It’s not Whitely’s fault. But I’m going to make it his problem now.” He shifted his focus to Whitely. “I want you to personally head up the effort to capture her. She’s our best lead to where Shangri-La has relocated. I want her taken alive.”
“So you want me to drop everything and focus on this?” Whitely asked, his tone even.
“No, I want you to add this to your pile.”
“The refinery. The vaccine. Security. And now this as well,” Whitely said quietly. “I’m good, Snake, but I’m not superhuman. If I’m to prioritize this, the others will have to wait.”
Snake waved a hand. “I want you to go to Alexandria. Set a trap.” Snake looked to Zach. “And Zach, I want you to go with him and help. We can’t let this woman get away.”
“We don’t know that she’ll show up in Alexandria,” Zach said. “She wasn’t headed there on the river, that’s for sure.”
“It’s the best we have. Whitely? Arrange for a team to head to Vicksburg, too. See what they can find on the other side of the river.”
Whitely stiffened. “That’s a death sentence for whoever goes, and we both know it. You’re not going to find any takers.”
“Dammit, Whitely, stop throwing up roadblocks and figure this out,” Snake screamed. “Do whatever you need to do, but I want this woman taken alive. Do you read me?”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
Snake’s voice quieted to a dangerous purr. “If you can’t manage this, I’ll find someone else who can.”
“I didn’t say that. I pointed out that you can’t expect anyone to sign up for a suicide mission into virus territory. The men are loyal, but nobody will voluntarily put a gun to their head and pull the trigger. I’d expect that anyone we order over to that side will simply disappear.”
Zach nodded. “He’s right.”
Snake’s expression turned even more sour. “I don’t want to argue. I want you to fix this, Whitely.” He glowered at Zach. “And I want you to see to it that he gets everything he needs.”
“That’s not really what I’m here for,” Zach observed.
“You’re here to help me and advise me. To ensure we locate the Shangri-La survivors and kill them. This is our only hope of doing that. Am I missing something? Find the woman, drag the truth out of her, and your problem’s solved. Seems clear to me.”
Zach seemed about to protest, but apparently thought better of it. “How far is it to Alexandria?”
“About a hundred and seventy miles,” Whitely said.
“Then it will be at least four or five days.”
Whitely exhaled. “No. We can have fresh horses waiting along the way, like the Pony Express. We can go faster and cover more like eighty miles a day instead of thirty or forty.”
Snake nodded. “Then do it. Make the calls. Whatever it takes, am I clear?”
“She may not show up,” Whitely warned again.
“I’m tired of discussing possibilities. Do as I say. Now.”
Whitely gave a small shrug and made for the door. Zach rose and followed the older man. “I’ll need to use the radio before we go. I have to keep Lassiter abreast of developments.”
Snake frowned. “Whatever. Just don’t stall. If she shows in Alexandria and you weren’t there because of delays, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“We should radio ahead so they’re on alert,” Zach said to Whitely as they left Snake’s chambers.
“No. Worst thing that can happen is we bring more people into this than already know. We tell those clods in Alexandria what’s going on, and they’ll probably blow it. These aren’t the best or the brightest, in case you haven’t noticed by now.”
“And yet you work with them?” Zach asked, studying Whitely’s profile.
“They’re the only game in town, and I like breathing.”
Zach turned away to conceal the smile that traced his lips. “Good call.”
Chapter 35
Fog hung over the river road as Lucas and Sierra made their way back to the oil rig plant, the going awkward in the predawn. When they reached the boat, there was no sign of it having been disturbed, and he wasted no time in pushing it down the slope and into the water.
“Hold the bow,” he said to Sierra, handing her the bow line as he climbed into the craft to inspect the branch with which he’d plugged the leak. A quick look showed it to be firmly in place with only a few drops of water oozing from the edges, and he nodded in approval. “Push off and hop in. I’ll do the rest,” he whispered, an
d Sierra did as asked and clambered into the boat.
The trip back to Louisiana was less exciting than the row from its shore had been. The only sound other than the rush of the water was the methodical splash of the oars. The sky was aflame over Mississippi as they reached the bank and leapt from the skiff, Lucas pausing to kick the branch from the bullet hole before pushing the boat into the current to meet its fate.
They hiked for two hours along the bank before arriving at the scattering of homes by the river, and Lucas slowed as he neared the field’s wooden gate, which he’d closed when they’d left, but which now stood open. Sierra whispered to him, “What is it?”
“Someone’s been here.”
Lucas slid the M4 strap from his shoulder and flicked off the safety, and then snicked for his horse as he strode toward the opening. A snort followed by a whinny greeted him from the trees, and Tango trotted into view, apparently none the worse for wear. Lucas patted the stallion’s neck as his eyes scanned the field and whispered to him, “Where’s Nugget?”
“Good question,” Sierra said, pointing to the muddy ground, where a hoofprint led away from the field. “Maybe she got spooked and forced the gate open? Looks pretty flimsy.”
Lucas studied the rope that looped over a fence post as its crude closure mechanism and shook his head, hand tightening on the rifle grip. “No. Someone opened it.”
“But Tango’s still here.”
“Tango wouldn’t have let anyone take him.” He eyed the big stallion. “Let’s see if the saddles are still here. I hid them pretty well, so I hope they are.”
He hurried to the hiding place and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt in the bushes. The saddlebags and saddles were right where he’d left them. Lucas hoisted his and strapped it onto Tango, and then leapt onto the animal’s back.
“Stay out of sight,” he cautioned. “I’m going after Nugget.”
“We don’t know how long ago they took her.”
“Those tracks look fresh.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “Be careful. It’s not worth getting killed over a horse. We can always get another one.”
“Tango can’t carry you to Alexandria, and we can’t take the chance that anyone has a decent horse to trade. If I can get Nugget back, that’s best.”
Lucas rode off, following the tracks with Tango at a canter. Half an hour later he slowed, and Lucas spotted Nugget tied to a post by the ruins of a shack. Two boys, maybe ten or eleven, looked up at him in alarm from their position by the hovel’s entrance, and one of them pulled a pistol from his belt and stood.
Lucas held his M4 aloft so they could see it. “Drop the gun. I don’t want to shoot anyone, but if I have to, I will. There’s no way you’ll get close with that thing, and I can hit you with my rifle no problem from here, so it’s a bad bet, kid.”
The boys exchanged a worried look, and the one with the pistol reluctantly lowered it and tossed it on the ground.
Lucas nodded. “Good thinking. Now keep your hands where I can see them.”
He spurred Tango forward, his weapon pointed at the children, watching them closely as he neared in case one of them had another gun. When he was a dozen yards away, he dropped from the saddle, never taking his eyes off them, and approached. “Turn and put your hands on the wall so I can make sure you’re unarmed,” he instructed, and the boys did so, the smaller one visibly afraid. Lucas frisked them and then scooped up the pistol – a filthy Chinese .32 revolver. He thumbed the cylinder open and dumped two cartridges on the ground.
“We didn’t mean no harm takin’ the horse,” the younger boy stammered. “We thought she was wild or somethin’.”
“Shhh,” the older one hissed. “I tol’ you to keep it shut.”
“You know they used to shoot horse thieves where I come from,” Lucas said.
“Didn’t know she was yours,” the older boy tried.
“You thought she might have locked herself in?”
“Never know.”
Lucas took in the boys’ emaciated frames, their ribs washboards beneath their filthy shirts. “Where are your folks?”
“Don’t have any,” the older boy said.
“Just you two?”
“What’s it to you?”
The younger one’s voice had a tremor. “You gonna shoot us?”
“Got a good reason why I shouldn’t?” Lucas asked.
“Bullets ain’t cheap,” the older one said. “Besides, there’s your horse. No harm done. We was just watchin’ her, keepin’ her safe, is all.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Lucas stepped back. “How long you been on your own?”
“Maybe a year.”
“What happened to your people?”
“Our pa crossed the Crew.”
“The Crew leave you alone?”
“We stay outta sight when they come around.”
“How often is that?”
“Couple times a week. You can hear ’em from a mile away.”
“When did they last come by?”
“They was here yesterday shootin’ up the river.”
Lucas nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Nugget before focusing on the boys. “All right. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take my horse and leave. You’re going to stay where you are, and your lives are a gift from me to you. Which means you owe me. I catch you stealing horses again, I take the gift back. You read me?”
The boys mumbled yesses and Lucas stifled a grin. He hastened to Nugget and untied the mare, and then led her to Tango and climbed into the saddle. The boys were still leaning against the wall when he rode around the bend, and he shook his head at the world he inhabited, where desperate children were forced to carry guns and described the murder of their father with the nonchalance of discussing the weather.
When Lucas reached the field, Sierra emerged from the trees and came running. Lucas told her about the pair of ruffians who’d taken Nugget, and she was visibly relieved at the source of their temporary woes.
“Hard to blame them, isn’t it?” she said.
“I’d have done the same at their age.”
Sierra helped him with the saddle and bags, and by the time the sun was melting the ground fog away, they were riding west. Alexandria was a solid four days away, assuming no complications. The risk involved was an obvious one: they’d be riding through Crew territory the entire way and, because of the marshy terrain and lack of a map, would be forced to stay near established routes, which raised the risk of discovery.
Clouds rolled across the sky as the morning transitioned into afternoon, and when the rain came, it did so with a vengeance, pelting them with drops the size of marbles. The horses drove forward through the deluge, and the trail grew treacherous as the downpour intensified, the mud sucking at their hooves and slowing their progress.
When they set up camp for the night by a stream, the rain having finally abated, Lucas estimated that they’d covered no more than thirty miles. After stringing tripwires to alert them to intruders, he settled down with Sierra for the night, and he reckoned that this leg of their journey would be the hardest yet.
“Didn’t get far as I’d like, but we’ll be there soon enough,” he said as she nuzzled his chest.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Tim. You’ll like him,” she murmured, already half asleep.
He didn’t give voice to the thought her comment spurred, namely that the life expectancy of a juvenile slave working the cane fields for the Crew was likely less than ideal, and not to get her hopes up.
Because he knew from their ongoing discussion that if they didn’t find her boy, it would destroy her.
And while he couldn’t shield her from that reality, he could delay the day of reckoning until it was unavoidable. That, at least, was within his power.
Which was enough for now.
Chapter 36
Elliot hummed to himself as he worked on his computer, calculating the rate at which the hubs could produce and distribute a q
uantity of the vaccine sufficient to inoculate the surviving population of the country, when the lights dimmed alarmingly and his battery backup screeched like an angry bird. He quickly saved the data and was powering down when the lights went out, plunging his workspace into darkness.
He felt in his lab coat and twisted a penlight on, and then made his way to the door. The pump fix that Craig had come up with had appeared to be stable with the loads the town was drawing – although the engineer had warned Elliot that it would only be fine until it wasn’t. Elliot hoped this was just a minor glitch. The weather had been getting colder with each day, and it was just a matter of time until the snow turned from an inconvenience to a matter of survival.
Elliot pushed into the outer room and turned the flashlight off, enough sunlight streaming through the windows to be able to make out the furniture. He walked to the entrance and swung the door wide, bracing himself for the bite of cold he knew would assault him. A second later his expectations were rewarded by a blast of icy wind, and he was reminded again how quickly the moderate autumn could turn to winter.
He fumbled in his pocket, removed a two-way radio, and transmitted a call to Craig. The engineer answered thirty seconds later.
“This is Craig. Over.”
“Power’s down. Over.”
“Pump gave out. Over.”
“How long until you can get it back up? Over.”
“I’ll come by shortly. Over and out.”
Elliot frowned. Craig taking time out from any repair didn’t portend well. When he showed up a half hour later, his face was long.
“It’s not good. We lost the pump, as I said, but there’s no way to jury-rig it anymore. The seals blew. That’s it – game over,” he reported.
“Surely we have material we can use, or we can bypass it and put less load on the generator?”
“No. These are specialty pumps – subject to extremely high heat and pressure. I can’t just cut up a crumbly tire or whatever and make seals – they won’t last five minutes. And as to bypassing it, I already tried that – it isn’t enough pressure to drive the turbine.”
The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels) Page 90