Snake bristled at Lassiter’s tone but understood he was in no position to argue. And he believed every word the man said – if he’d wanted Snake dead, he already would have been.
They entered the ship, mounted the stairs, and stopped at an empty officer’s lounge. Lassiter took a seat and savored the arctic blast of the air conditioning from an overhead grid and then offered Snake a drink. Snake declined, and Lassiter invited Snake to sit across from him at the table while he blotted his brow with a white cloth handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Snake did as asked, and Lassiter sat forward.
“Magnus was helping us with the vaccine. I can’t underscore to you the importance of having sole control over it or our disappointment that he wasn’t successful in eradicating Shangri-La. As long as it exists in any form, it’s a threat to us, which means it’s a threat to our allies – the Crew being one of our most important ones.”
“What’s it to you? I mean, if others get a vaccine?”
“It isn’t in our best interests to have competing variants out there. Diminishes our negotiating power with other groups.”
“What other groups?”
“What remains of foreign governments. Other warlords like yourself. Take your pick.”
Snake looked around the lounge, which appeared to be in pristine shape. “Where did you get the fuel to run this thing?”
“We have access to refining capability, as well as the know-how to operate and maintain the vessel.”
“Where are you based?”
“A number of places.”
“I’ve heard rumors of underground cities with power and water.”
“There’s usually an element of truth to persistent stories.”
“Then you have a headquarters?”
Lassiter sat back. “Snake, here’s the deal. We’ll help you solidify your hold on the Crew, as well as its territory. We’ll provide you with an advisor, who will get you anything you need – although frankly you already have huge tracts of territory, so it’s more likely to be guidance that you’re lacking than resources. We helped Magnus obtain most of what he had, and we’ll assist you as well. In return, we expect you to help us.”
“Wait. You worked with Magnus to get his territory?”
“We heard of his interest in our philosophy and decided that there was a synergy there; so, yes, we did. We advised him on how to overcome any resistance, what boundaries to draw that would be sustainable, how to control the territory once he had it, and so on.” Lassiter smirked. “Did you really believe he could have achieved all that on his own?”
“I always thought he did.”
“Well, he had help.” Lassiter paused. “Help we’re prepared to offer you.”
“What do you want in exchange?”
“How’s your search for Shangri-La going?”
Snake looked away. “Slow. They’ve disappeared.”
“Doesn’t seem like you’re putting much into finding them.”
“What’s the point? That was Magnus’s thing, not mine. And he lost a decent chunk of our fighting force pursuing them.”
“It’s important that you locate them. You should make it your top priority.”
“I have bigger problems at the moment.”
“Ah. Yes. We’ve heard stirrings.”
Snake’s eyes darted to Lassiter’s. “What have you heard?”
“Some of your hubs are no longer loyal.”
Snake nodded. “New Orleans tried to assassinate me.”
“And they’re a formidable adversary.”
“We can take them.”
“But you haven’t moved against them yet.”
“I’m pretending I don’t realize they were behind it or that they’re shorting me every month.”
Lassiter managed an approving smile. “Ah. A thinker. Take them by surprise. I like that.”
“How do you know about them?”
“We have eyes everywhere. As your tattoo symbolizes.” Lassiter shifted in his chair. “We’ll give you gold with which to recruit mercenaries and to buy arms. We’ll help you get one of the refineries operational so you can power your vehicles. We’ll leave a top tactician with you to advise you on how best to deal with your mutiny. But you need to step up your efforts to locate Shangri-La, wherever it’s moved, and wipe it from the earth.”
“You can get the refinery working again? We’ve been trying for years.”
Lassiter waved a hand as though such a thing were trivial. “I trust we have your full attention?”
Snake nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
Lassiter rose abruptly and walked to the door. “I’ll be back with my man. His name is Zacharias. Zach. I’m sure you’ll get along swimmingly.”
Snake fidgeted, his head swimming with Lassiter’s revelations about his secret group and the existence of not only a powerful force that had been responsible for Magnus’s success, but limitless resources available to him. The man had spoken of gold as though discussing the weather, and brushed aside Snake’s incredulousness at being able to restart a refinery as though it was self-evident that it was well within their capabilities. No wonder Magnus had been all-powerful and confident. With a group like that behind him, the sky was the limit.
A doubt nagged at Snake, though. If the Illuminati had the capability of bringing one of Houston’s refineries back into operation, why hadn’t they done so for Magnus?
The answer was obvious: because they hadn’t had to in order to get what they wanted from him. Why give Magnus the ability to further expand his power if they wanted him as a regional player rather than a national one? They’d offered what was necessary and nothing more.
Lassiter reappeared with a bulldog of a man in tow, his face all planes, his steel gray hair cropped close to his head, and his unblinking eyes the color of lead. Lassiter introduced them and Zach’s voice matched his appearance – gruff, a no-nonsense rasp that didn’t waste a word.
“You mentioned gold?” Snake said, completing the introductions.
“That’s right. We have a thousand one-ounce bars for you. Zach will arrange delivery to your headquarters,” Lassiter said.
“Where are the rest of your men? I didn’t see any crew.”
Lassiter smiled. “They’re giving us our privacy.”
Zach turned his wedge of a head to Lassiter. “I’m going with him?”
“That’s right. Help him however you can.”
Zach nodded, his expression unreadable. Snake cleared his throat and eyed him. “You know where our headquarters is?”
“I’ll find it. Have a horse I can use?” Zach asked.
“Sure. How long will it take to get me the gold?”
Zach held his stare. “You’ll have it by day’s end.”
“And the refinery?” Snake pressed.
Lassiter fielded the question. “That will take some time. But don’t worry. We’ll make some of our fuel from the ship’s stores available. More than sufficient for your immediate needs.”
Snake’s eyes darted around the room. “When are you leaving?”
“Once Zach indicates we don’t need to remain any longer.”
Snake pondered the response for several moments and angled his head at the door. “Are we done?”
“Yes. Kindly ensure that none of your men intrude on us while we’re in port. My crew will stay on board, so all we require is enough of a guard that we aren’t disturbed.”
Snake nodded. “Anything else?”
“Zach will keep us abreast of your progress and needs.” Lassiter hesitated. “Thank you for coming. Don’t forget to make locating Shangri-La your top priority.”
“You can bet on it.”
Lassiter offered a frosty smile that never reached his eyes. “We are.”
Chapter 17
After fifteen days of hard riding, Lucas’s group was finally nearing Tulsa. The area they’d covered over the last few days had been surprisingly lush and green after the unvaried flatness
of the high plains prairie they’d left behind. They’d spent the night under the stars, glad that the rain that had plagued them on and off the last week had abated, leaving the swell of the hills bursting with color and life.
They had skirted the inhabited settlements: Amarillo, a shadow of its former self, and Oklahoma City, the northern limit of the Crew’s territory and so to be avoided at all costs. Travelers along the stretch they’d negotiated had been few and far between, and on the three occasions they’d spotted dust clouds on the horizon, they’d gone to ground and waited for the parties to pass at a safe distance.
By Lucas’s reckoning, they would reach the compound by mid-afternoon, and if all went well, would be riding south toward Mississippi by evening, taking their time, posing as traders in the Crew territory and hoping that they went unchallenged in the outer reaches of the empire.
He had no firm plan for narrowing down whether Sierra’s son had somehow survived the attack on the compound where he’d been living other than to make his way there and poke around. Perhaps there were people living nearby who’d heard about it or who could point them in the right direction. The alternatives grew increasingly unappealing as he went down the list, which included traveling into the belly of the beast and asking questions that would, without a doubt, have the Crew pursuing them within minutes.
The trip had been a monotonous plod across the high plains. Arnold had proved a hardy and resourceful traveling companion, though, as had Colt, George, and John, all serious men with enough trail time to avoid stupid mistakes that could get them killed. They’d kept two-hour watches throughout each night so everyone would be adequately rested as they made their way east beneath a sky as blue as the ocean.
They turned from the trail onto a ribbon of pavement, and after checking Arnold’s ragged map, paused to rest and water the horses as Arnold took a bearing.
“This has got to be the road. Compound should be up another half dozen miles, no more,” he said.
“Finally,” Sierra said. “I was beginning to mistake the saddle for part of my anatomy.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to re-provision and rest a couple of days before the next leg,” Lucas said.
“No,” Sierra countered. “I want to keep going.”
His tone softened. “The horses need a break, Sierra. A day or two won’t matter to us, but it will to them.”
“It’s already been months, Lucas.”
“Which is why it won’t change anything. They can’t keep this up forever.”
Sierra nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t happy. He took her hand and pointed at the surrounding trees. “Leaves are turning,” he said. She glanced at the red and orange leaves clinging to the branches with obvious disinterest.
“Probably snowing by now in Pagosa Springs,” Colt observed.
“Hard to say,” Arnold said. “We’ll check in after we make the drop and I’ll ask.”
They continued riding toward Tulsa, and after another hour Colt slowed and eyed a sign by the side of a gravel drive that led to a walled collection of buildings a quarter mile away. “Barrelback Ranch. That’s our place.”
Lucas was the first to stop as they neared the compound’s main gate. He eyed the open barrier and unslung his M4, switching the safety to three-round burst mode with his thumb as he scanned the perimeter wall. Arnold drew to a halt beside him and his eyes narrowed when he saw the gate.
“Might be trouble,” he muttered, his AR-15 now in hand. The others followed suit, and they continued toward the opening at a cautious pace.
Sierra’s hand flew to her mouth when they reached the gate, and she gasped and pointed to a body sprawled just inside. A vulture flapped from it, and three more took flight, clawing their way skyward before soaring away. Nobody spoke as Lucas dropped from his horse. Arnold joined him, and they edged slowly to the entrance, weapons at the ready.
The breeze shifted, and a wave of putrescence hit them with the force of a blow. Lucas’s jaw clenched as he strode toward the gap, the odor of death unmistakable. Arnold’s boots crunched against the gravel as they swept the area with their guns, searching for any sign of life.
They stopped at the gate and regarded the grounds, eyes flat, unmoved by the grisly vision before them. Dozens of bodies lay near the buildings: their torsos had been hacked open, and their skulls streaked with black blood. Their scalps were missing. Lucas walked toward the doorway of the largest structure and noted women and children among the dead, all mutilated in the same way. Bile rose sour in his throat as he took in the hellish tableau.
“Jesus God…” Arnold muttered, and Lucas nodded.
“Yeah. Bad as it gets.”
Arnold toed a nearby body. “They haven’t been dead that long. Probably last night, don’t you think?”
Lucas took in a pair of tiny corpses discarded like trash by the entrance of what must have been a barn, the blood around them dried and hard. “Sounds about right.”
They walked back to where Sierra was waiting outside the compound entrance with Colt and the others, their faces pale. “What is it, Lucas?” she asked.
“Stay here and watch the horses – make sure they don’t run off. Colt, boys, we could use a hand.”
“What happened?” Sierra repeated.
“Looks like someone attacked them. I want to search the buildings to make sure there are no survivors.”
“How many?” George asked.
Lucas’s deep frown told the story. “A bunch.”
They returned to the interior of the compound and moved through the carnage to the main building, a sprawling ranch house of at least six thousand square feet. Inside was a disaster, and Lucas had a brief flashback to arriving at Hal’s ranch only to find him dead and the place looted, the destruction as random and senseless as if a tornado had blown through it.
Half an hour later, they’d confirmed that everyone was dead. When they were through, they stood by the gate, gulping fresh air. The only sound was the low buzz of thousands of flies feasting on the remains and the occasional snort of one of the horses.
“Looks like they tried to hold off whoever did this,” Arnold observed, touching one of hundreds of bullet scars pocking the mortar.
“Must have been a lot of attackers, most of the compound asleep,” Lucas agreed. “They hit fast and hard and overwhelmed the sentries. Only way it makes sense.”
“Some of the defenders tried to shoot it out once they were inside the walls.”
“Those were the lucky ones,” Colt said. “They died quickly.”
“What do we do now?” George asked.
“Too many of them to cremate or bury,” Arnold observed. “Whatever this was, it’s a change of plans for us. We need to put some miles under our saddles or risk running into whoever did this.”
“Timing’s awful coincidental, don’t you think?” Lucas asked.
Arnold nodded. “Yep.”
“You think we might have a leak back at Pagosa Springs?” Colt asked softly.
Lucas shook his head. “Doubt it. Anyone who wanted to sell you out had their chance when Magnus attacked.”
“Not necessarily.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, Colt.”
“The Loco – Luis – had just arrived. We know he was afraid of Magnus, but maybe he’s interested in getting Pecos back for himself.”
Lucas shook his head again. “I don’t buy it.”
“Then how could they have known about…this?”
Lucas shrugged. “That’s a mystery.”
“So what now?” George repeated.
Arnold kicked away a rock and sighed. “We need to find a radio so we can talk to Elliot and let him know what happened. This is his show.”
Lucas retraced his steps to Sierra and the horses. He gave her a brief rundown on what they’d found, leaving out the worst of it. The skin of her face was tight as parchment by the time he finished and her eyes moist.
“Why, Lucas? Why the mutilation?”
She didn’t have to ask why the inhabitants had been killed. After five years living in the abyss, she accepted that there was no rhyme or reason to death – it was merely another regular visitor, like hunger, thirst, or rain.
“Don’t know.” He sighed. “We’ll head to Tulsa and look for a trading post with a shortwave.”
“And then?”
He stared off at the main road and adjusted his hat so it better shaded his eyes. When he looked back at Sierra, his face was expressionless.
“Not my call.”
“This changes everything, Lucas,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“We should just bail now. We did our part. This isn’t our problem.”
Lucas looked back at where Arnold was speaking with the men in low tones and shook his head. “Tempting. But that wasn’t the deal.”
“We got the vaccine to where we were supposed to deliver it. I’d say that was the deal.”
Lucas didn’t want to argue. He walked over to Tango and patted the big horse’s neck affectionately before swinging into the saddle. “Let’s get this over with. Time’s a-wasting.”
She eyed him uncomprehendingly and then her shoulders slumped with resignation.
“Do you think we’re safe, Lucas? From whoever did this?”
“Seems that way. At least for now.”
Arnold led the men back toward their horses, and Sierra pulled herself onto Nugget with a wince. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.
Lucas caught Arnold’s dark expression and shrugged. “For now, playing it by ear.”
“Good way to get killed.”
Lucas couldn’t fight her on that. “I know.”
Chapter 18
Pagosa Springs, Colorado
The lights in the community center dimmed and flickered for the umpteenth time that day, and Elliot glowered at them like they were failing just to spite him. Michael clapped a hand on his shoulder in commiseration and turned his attention to Craig, who’d arrived five minutes before to report on a problem at the geothermal plant.
The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) Page 9