The Day After Never (Book 2): Purgatory Road

by Russell Blake

  Tango was munching on some scrub, the only sound his steady mastication and an occasional snort. Lucas sighed and willed the troubling doubts away. He was doing what he had to in order to prevail, nothing more. The world was a brutal place populated by more than its share of sadists and miscreants, and if his role in it all was to wipe the earth of a few of them, so much the better. He was under no illusions about human nature. His years in law enforcement had more than disabused him of any notion that evil wasn’t an active and real force, and that every man didn’t eventually have to either confront it and welcome it into his heart or banish it. Taking life was certainly evil, but when there was no choice, kill or be killed, it was…less so.

  His breathing slowed, but with his churning thoughts, rest came hard, and he spent the remainder of the night in uneasy slumber. His dreams were violently vivid and jarring, a parade of departed companions. Tango looked over at him in alarm when he cried out softly several times in the night, rifle clutched to him like a lover, dead to the world but still reliving his battles in the unforgiving embrace of troubled sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Cano watched as his men moved a pickup truck from the center of the two-lane blacktop, where it had been abandoned at just enough of an angle to block the road. It sat on rusting rims, the tires having degraded to little more than dust from the desert sun, and it groaned like an angry walrus as one of the Humvees pushed it out of the way.

  They’d made better time than he’d expected; the highway had been largely uncluttered by cars once they’d gotten fifty miles from Houston, and this was only the eighth such delay in their thirty-six-hour marathon. By his reckoning, they were no more than ten miles from Pecos, and he expected to be able to make out the city’s lights at any moment.

  Cano was part of Magnus’s executive team, a troubleshooter who’d proved himself in prison as an enforcer and hit man, whose career had blossomed once he’d escaped with the rest of Magnus’s group. His willingness to use excessive violence at the slightest provocation had made him a powerful force around Houston, and although Magnus had a higher opinion of Garret’s resourcefulness, he clearly prized Cano’s ability to get tough jobs done – including executing those who had failed him.

  Being chartered with finding the woman was both an honor and a curse. He had no idea what situation he would find in Pecos, but he was confident that he could manhandle the Locos into providing enough support that he could pick up the woman’s trail. He had no alternative, or there would be a replacement sent to take over his responsibility, and he could expect the same reward for disappointing his master that awaited the one-eyed freak at his hands. He didn’t bemoan that – it was the law of the jungle, and so far, the harsh rules had been good for him.

  Thirty-two years old and six foot six, Cano was shaped like a door, with bare arms protruding from his flak vest like tree trunks and covered with full-sleeve prison ink. Originally incarcerated at nineteen for the brutal murder of two youths with a hatchet, he’d shown no remorse for his misdeeds and had been diagnosed a psychopath by the system, about which he cared little, just as he didn’t mind the prospect of life behind bars. One place was as good as any other to him, and he’d quickly climbed the prison pecking order with a series of vicious attacks that had added three more to his list of kills – not that the pair of youths had been his first. Part of his contempt for the legal apparatus was its inability to do its job, and there were four others that had preceded the ones he’d been busted for, all but one murdered with his bare hands. His first taste of blood had been when he’d beat another boy’s head into the sidewalk one evening when he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. After smashing the kid’s brains into jelly, Cano had gone home and eaten a sandwich in front of the television, alone. His meth-addicted mother was doubtless off somewhere earning her next fix, and his nameless father had departed ten seconds after the ejaculation that had created him.

  Over the next days, the news coverage of the sensational slaying had amused him no end, but he’d never told a soul, only thinking about it occasionally, and when he did, without emotion.

  “Come on. We don’t have all night,” he growled at the men when enough space had been made for the fuel truck to make it through. Cano signaled to his driver to push on, his usual impatience even more pronounced than usual due to lack of sleep and anxiousness to confront Garret.

  Pecos rose from the plain like a glowing mirage, its lights bright in the night. The eastern approach had been blocked with a wall fashioned of debris and the carcasses of vehicles; a faded red arrow on a crudely painted sign pointed them to the southern gate.

  The guard there looked up at the arriving motorized column like it was a formation of UFOs, and his mouth hung open at the apparition as he stood, his AK a laughable defense against the heavy equipment bristling with Crew members and guns. Cano signaled him over as the Humvee came to a stop, its diesel engine clattering from small impurities in the fuel.

  “We’re your reinforcements,” Cano barked when the guard was within earshot.

  “Reinforcements?” the man asked, his tone puzzled and not a little afraid.

  “Get on the radio with whoever runs this operation. Tell him the Crew’s arrived.”

  The Loco nodded and made the transmission, and several long moments later, Luis’s voice crackled over the speaker, authorizing the guard to let the procession through. The man exhaled in relief at the instruction – it wasn’t like he could have done anything to stop them from running him down.

  He slid aside an iron gate, whose wheels squeaked a protest as it opened, and motioned the vehicles through, still shocked at the sight of a motorized transport – something he hadn’t seen in years. The Humvee exhausts belched black smoke into the air and they rolled forward. Cano stood with his head in the wind on the passenger side like a conquering general, the bandana over his nose and mouth mottled with road dust.

  They roared through the darkened streets as startled residents peered from windows and doorways at the unfamiliar sound of motors, and rolled up to the courthouse square, where Luis and two of his lieutenants waited. The vehicles eased to a stop, and Cano descended from the lead truck and approached Luis, pulling down the bandana as he strode.

  “I’m Cano. Magnus sent us. We’re here to help in the search for the woman and child.”

  “Welcome, Cano. I’m Luis. Head of the Locos,” Luis said, offering his hand.

  Cano shook it with a grip like a hydraulic press and looked back at his convoy. “My men and I have been on the road for too long. Where can we make camp?”

  “There’s a motel not far from here that we use.”

  “Good. Have one of your people show them to it.”

  Luis bit back the response that sprang to his lips at being ordered around in front of his men, and nodded. “Will do.”

  “Where’s Garret?”

  Luis’s expression clouded. “He’s dead. Killed with his men in the field.”

  Cano absorbed the information, his face unreadable. “When?”

  “Couple days back.”

  Cano nodded. “What progress are you making on the search?”

  “None. There’s no trace of them.” Luis didn’t mention that it was because they’d given up looking.

  The big Crew boss studied Luis for a long moment and then stepped closer. “I want your best men ready to ride tomorrow at first light. Mine need some sleep, but the top priority is finding the woman and child, and we’re going to go over every square inch of territory until we do.”

  Luis’s eyes darted to the vehicles and then back to Cano. “We’re down to only thirty or so men. I need most of those to defend the town and keep everything in line.”

  “I’m in charge of that now,” Cano said, with a wave of a tattooed hand the size of a ham.

  “The deal we made with Garret was–”

  Cano cut Luis off, his eyes black as coal. “Meaningless. The new deal, or rather, the only deal is that your men assimilat
e into the Crew and follow my orders. You decide not to, you better ride hard before I wake up, because you’re either with us or against us.” Cano let the words sink in. “There’s no choice B.”

  Luis swallowed a dry knot in his throat. “We had discussed becoming Crew members. I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  Cano sized Luis up, and one corner of his mouth curled slightly. “You’re a smart man. No wonder you’re running things, Luis.”

  “As long as I keep doing so once you’re gone, we’ll get along well.”

  “I want to stay in this shithole about five seconds longer than I absolutely have to. Then you can have it back.”

  Luis maintained his unreadable expression. Cano considered Luis’s men for a moment and then continued. “We’ll need horses. Figure enough for fifteen men. The rest will hold down the fort. Be ready to mount up at dawn.” Cano turned to his driver and cupped his hands near his mouth. “Get ready to turn the convoy around and head back to Houston tomorrow.” Cano pivoted back to Luis. “Now let’s see this hotel.”

  Luis managed a fake smile and nod. “Of course.” He barked an order to the man on his right, who made for the lead Humvee. Luis squared his shoulders and turned to Cano. “I’ll be riding with you.”

  “Yes. You will. And find someone with tracking dogs.”

  Luis’s steady stare faltered slightly. “I…I’ll do my best.”

  “As long as that means you’ll have them at dawn, we’re good. Don’t disappoint me right out of the gate, Luis.”

  The malevolence was clear in Cano’s tone, and Luis nodded again, his mind working furiously to figure out where he was going to find dogs on short notice.

  “See you in a few hours. I’ll get to work,” Luis said, and did his best not to storm off, forcing himself to breathe deeply as he willed away the rage clouding his vision at being ordered around like a prison bitch.

  Chapter 9

  Ruby brewed tea over a small wood fire outside the bunker. The morning sun was just beginning to warm the air twenty minutes after dawn’s first light. She was conserving her supply of kerosene for the small camp stove in the root cellar; her natural tendency to hoard had served her well since the collapse. She looked around the clearing at the trees ringing it and wondered at their tenacity in what really amounted to a desert, and then smiled at the thought that they, like she, were survivors that had managed to flourish in spite of everything the world had thrown at them.

  The root cellar door opened and Sierra stepped out, carrying her camp chair, her face lined from the folded blanket she’d used as a pillow. She sniffed and moved to where Ruby was sitting by the fire.

  “Morning,” Sierra said.

  “Good morning. Want some tea?”

  “I’d love some.”

  “Grab a couple of cups, and by the time you get back, it should have steeped enough.”

  Sierra was back in a minute, and Ruby poured a fragrant stream into their cups before dousing the fire with a jug of water. The two women sat contentedly, savoring the morning, and then Ruby sat forward.

  “Eve get enough rest?”

  Sierra nodded. “She’s a good sleeper. Won’t wake up until I shake the life half out of her.”

  “She’s a remarkable child.”

  “In a lot of ways. She’s been through a lot.”

  “They’re resilient, aren’t they?”

  Sierra’s expression darkened. “Not always.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung over them until Ruby broke it. “Do you have any kids of your own?”

  Sierra nodded. “I did. A boy. He would have been almost seven by now.”

  “I…I’m sorry. The flu took so many.”

  “He actually survived that.”

  “Oh.”

  “When we got relocated to Lubbock, I couldn’t take him. My cousin in Mississippi volunteered to care for him. Dallas was too dangerous, especially for a child all alone, and she lived in some sort of a prepper compound there with a bunch of like-minded folks. It seemed the safest place for him, but nothing ever turns out the way it should.” Sierra paused. “His name was Tim.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got word that the whole compound was wiped out by a rival gang. It was in the Crew’s area, but right on the eastern edge. Apparently this gang went to war for territory, and my cousin and Tim – the whole town, in fact – were killed in the process. What did they used to call that? Collateral damage? That’s what my son was.”

  The recitation was wooden, Sierra’s tone tight, and when she took a long sip of her tea, her hand was shaking.

  Ruby blinked away her reaction. “I’m sorry, Sierra. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

  “It’s not your fault. There are no guarantees, right?”

  “Seems not.”

  Sierra sat wordlessly as a pair of doves took flight from the field and soared overhead. She watched the birds fly away and looked to the older woman, her eyes moist.

  “What’s the story on Lucas? How long have you known each other?” she asked.

  “Oh, my, let’s see. Until recently we hardly saw each other, but still, it has to be about three years. I was…uh, friends…with his grandfather, Hal. That’s how I know him.”

  Sierra seemed surprised. “I thought you were closer.”

  “Well, I’m a loner, and he is too, so we mostly kept to ourselves until…until the cartel destroyed the town, and Lucas’s ranch in the process.” Ruby swirled the tea leaves in her cup. “No guarantees, as you say. Best to be grateful for the time you have and try to enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “Wise words.” Sierra hesitated. “He’s been alone as long as you’ve known him?”

  Ruby nodded. “Yes.”

  “That seems…odd. I mean, he’s a good man. Those are rare these days.”

  Ruby smiled sadly. “His grandfather was, too. Runs in the family.” She set her cup on the ground beside her. “But you’re right about it being rare, and not just now. Been that way for as long as I’ve been drawing breath.”

  “What did he do…before?”

  Both women understood Sierra was referring to the collapse.

  “He was a lawman. Texas Ranger.”

  Sierra nodded. “That explains a lot. He’s so cool under pressure. I mean, at the hospital when he broke me out…I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “You know the saying: One riot, one ranger. They have a reputation.”

  “Deserved, obviously.” She frowned. “But then why wasn’t he the sheriff back in Loving? Wouldn’t he have been a natural?”

  “Might have been, but he lived pretty far out of town. And I didn’t get the impression he was all that interested in babysitting the folks there. His grandfather said he’d had a craw full from his time in El Paso.”

  “Did he say why?”

  Ruby scowled. “I didn’t ask.”

  “So he’s always been single?” Sierra pressed.

  “No. He was married. Lost his wife in the collapse,” Ruby said, her tone clipped.

  “No children?”

  Ruby sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sierra, no offense, but I don’t discuss other people’s business, you know? If you have questions for Lucas, you should ask them yourself. This kind of conversation makes me very uncomfortable.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I figured that after you and he drilled me about my background, turnabout was fair play…”

  “All due respect, we weren’t asking you to risk your life for us.”

  “I wasn’t either.”

  Ruby stood. “Just being here puts us at risk, and we both know it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find the ladies’ room and freshen up. Glad I stored a mountain of toilet paper,” she said with a fake smile.

  “I can leave. You don’t have to put yourself in danger on account of me.”

  “It’s not on account of you, Sierra, charming as your company is. Eve deserves better than to be out in the wilds. You two wouldn�
�t last long on your own, which is why Lucas is going the distance for you. So let’s consider the matter closed and concentrate on more productive uses of our time, shall we?”

  “I…I wasn’t trying to pry. I’m just curious. I mean, we owe the man our lives, and he barely says two words in a day. I know nothing about him. That’s all.”

  “I understand. Hopefully he’ll be back soon, and you can have a long discussion with him, ask him all about himself. Until then, leave it be, Sierra. We have bigger fish to fry than gossiping.”

  Sierra offered a conciliatory smile. “Fair enough. And you do have a lot of toilet paper.”

  “It was one of the things I figured I’d run short of, sooner or later, so after the collapse I rounded up as much as I could find. That, kerosene, lighters, and ammo. Between my herbs and my stash, I was pretty well set.” Ruby sighed. “But as you said, no guarantees. That was then.”

  “How did you learn about herbs?” Sierra asked, her tone less adversarial, clearly trying to make amends for the earlier tension.

  “The Internet. It was a hobby of mine before the flu. I figured organic was always better than something made in a factory – especially medicines, where God knows what the drug companies were sticking in to cut corners. So I learned all about natural ways to achieve the same things. Mostly. Some you can’t replace, but you’d be surprised how many you can.”

  “I miss vitamins.”

  “Don’t really need them if you’re healthy and you eat a decent diet.” Ruby glanced at the trees and then at the root cellar door. “Now, I really need to get busy…”