Hong sighed. “We’re setting up the transmitter so I can communicate with the ship and inform them of developments. I’ll let you know how they want to proceed.”
The meeting broke up, and Hong strode over to where his command tent had been erected. He ducked through the entry and approached a corporal who was securing a power cable to an inverter sitting beside two deep-cycle solar batteries.
“How much longer?”
“Couple of minutes, sir. Just need to clamp these down and power up.”
Hong paced in the space available, his face lined with a scowl. So far his mission had gone off without a hitch, which had paradoxically heightened his anxiety as the night progressed. He was old enough to distrust anything that came easy, and this had redefined ease.
The corporal finished his task and left Hong to his thoughts. Hong sat before the radio and tuned it to the ship frequency – a proprietary military channel to prevent eavesdropping. He slipped on a pair of headphones and turned the volume up, and then transmitted his call sign. The operator on the other end responded immediately, and then there was a long wait while he went in search of the generals.
When Jin’s voice sounded in Hong’s ears, he sounded animated. “Yes, Colonel. How is it going?”
Hong summarized the situation in a few sentences.
Mao’s voice boomed in the background. “What? So you’ve had no casualties and have taken the city?”
“So far, yes, sir. But as I said, it looks as though the population left recently, and we suspect all of the dead are the cause – not our approach.” He hesitated. “If it’s the new virus we’ve been hearing rumors about…”
“You’ve quarantined any affected areas, haven’t you? Standard bioweapon protocols?”
“Of course. The men are all trained and know better than to get too close.”
“Then we can consider it nature giving us a helping hand. Luck is with us, Colonel. It is an auspicious omen to take our target without a fight.”
“There’s the question of where everybody went…”
“That isn’t an immediate concern,” Mao declared. “Securing the city until our other ships arrive and we have thousands of our people there is your priority. You can go rat hunting once reinforcements are in place, not sooner. Portland is a key shipping hub, and you’ve taken it without a shot fired. This is one for the history books. You are to be congratulated.”
“Thank you, sir. But the job is far from done.”
“Providence has favored this mission. We have every confidence in you.”
Hong terminated the call, the praise ringing hollow in his ears. He could have slept the night away and achieved the same result, and he knew it. His men were walking the streets of a ghost city whose residents had abandoned for unknown reasons, and that made him especially uneasy. He had little doubt that they would find the rest of the metropolis empty, and wondered whether the mission would turn out to be an honor…or a curse.
He pushed himself out of the chair and moved to the tent flap, his eyes burning and his muscles sore. A part of him wondered if that might be the first signs of the deadly virus surging through his system, but he pushed the grim thought from his mind. He was conversant enough with epidemiology to know that was impossible – without a living host, the virus didn’t last more than a day, but even so his skin crawled reflexively at the idea of being in proximity to it.
When he stepped out into the morning light, the corporal was standing a discreet distance from the tent in order to avoid overhearing privileged communications. Hong ignored the man and made a beeline to Lim, who was sitting with the other officers, their expressions expectant. Hong took a deep breath and summoned his last reserves of energy as he neared.
“Gentlemen, the generals send their congratulations. Promotions are in order for everyone if things continue as they have. They have instructed us to lock down the city and await reinforcements.” He swallowed and glanced at the skyline, the fleeting image of a virus-ravaged victim shuddering as he died flitting through his mind, and then addressed his men. “We are to secure the port facilities on the Columbia River and stay put. We’ll move there as soon as we’ve confirmed it’s free of threats, and use that as our primary base. There’s plentiful water we can boil for bathing and drinking, and it’s close enough to the main access routes to defend.” He stifled a yawn and sat down heavily as the officers smiled and looked at one another.
It was indeed an auspicious day, and Hong told himself that his anxiety was caused by fatigue and stress, nothing more. After all, his commanding officers were delighted, and his men were performing flawlessly. It was an ideal situation.
There could be no doubt.
Chapter 23
Northwest of Salem, Oregon
Lucas poked at the remnants of a smoldering campfire and rose, swallowing the last of his breakfast of jerky and water. He looked over to where Ray and the General were sitting, and chuckled to himself – the old reprobate and the youth had bonded on the trip from Astoria. He wished he could say the same for Jeb, who’d reluctantly accompanied them on their trek to Salem after they’d convinced the General to help them raise a fighting force.
Nobody from the town had volunteered, in spite of Lucas’s impassioned speech, and when it had become obvious that no one was going to ride over the hill to take on the Chinese, they’d ridden hard for Astoria and tracked down Ray and Art to see what they could cobble together. The older man had agreed to meet with his contacts and make introductions, but had warned that the likelihood of them signing up for a suicide mission was nil.
Undeterred, Lucas had convinced Jeb to ride along, mainly to keep him from attempting to breach the town’s defenses. Ruby’s life depended on Lucas figuring out a way to free the women, and if Jeb were caught, any chance he had would evaporate. So he’d twisted the man’s arm and half dragged him onto the road to Salem, which he was regretting with every mile.
As if reading his thoughts, Jeb appeared from where he’d been relieving himself and threw a surly look at Ray and Art. Lucas sighed, walked to Tango, and concentrated on saddling him up, choosing to ignore the hostility Jeb radiated whenever the pair were the object of his attention.
“Mount up in five,” Lucas announced, making the final adjustments to Tango’s girth.
Jeb moved to his shelter and broke it down in silence with efficient movements, his brow as clouded as the heavens overhead.
“How much farther?” Ray asked.
“Maybe three hours,” Art said. “We’re close now. You can smell the smoke from Salem.”
“Not over you two, you can’t,” Jeb grumbled.
“You’re no picnic yourself, your lordship,” Art fired back.
“Time’s a-wasting,” Lucas said, cutting off the pointless bickering that had defined much of the trip. “You can wrassle each other when we get to town.”
That drew a smile from Ray and another sour look from Jeb. Lucas busied himself with Tango’s rig, seeing nothing to be gained by chastising Jeb so close to the end of their journey. He was sure Jeb’s ugly mood would improve once they had a fighting force and a plan to free his family. Part of Lucas understood his dislike for the General, who represented the antithesis of everything Jeb held dear, but they needed Art to perform, and Lucas didn’t want to risk Ruby’s life over Jeb’s religious convictions.
They packed up the camp and Lucas poured water on the fire, and then they were back on the trail they’d been following, Lucas checking his compass to ensure they were still on course. Tango plodded along at an easy walk he could maintain for forty miles a day, but the other horses had showed signs of exhaustion by the end of each day, so Lucas had forced himself to curb his sense of urgency so they’d have animals that could make it back to Astoria. Now, their hundred-mile jaunt at an end, it was tempting to push the final distance, but he knew there was no point – they would be in Salem soon enough, and there was nothing to be gained by driving the horses beyond their limits.
&n
bsp; Art’s friends’ compound was north of town in the wine country, up the river from the state capital in an area far off the beaten path that they’d chosen for its defensibility. Most of the residents were hardcore survivalists or ex-military, and according to the older man were as capable as anyone he’d served with. Lucas hoped Art wasn’t overstating their qualifications, because after a long ride, with the women’s fates hanging in the balance, he needed capable, seasoned fighters, not wannabes.
One way Jeb might come in handy was unexpected – Art had revealed on the second night’s camping that many of his friends in Salem were also deeply religious.
“Why’s that?” Jeb had asked, surprised at the news.
Art focused on the small fire they’d been sitting around. “Know that saying about no atheists in foxholes? Double true after Armageddon. Always struck me as a little odd, but live and let live.”
“Odd? What’s odd about believing in the Book and trying to live morally?”
“Odd because you have to buy that your loving creator just murdered most of the planet for some reason.”
“Because of sin.”
“That makes a hell of a lot of sense. Create people who have free will, and then punish them when they exercise it in a way you disagree with. Like I said: odd.”
Jeb had fallen silent after that, and his sullenness had increased the following day until it became the open hostility he was now displaying. But it had occurred to Lucas that his religious conviction might be another argument that could sway the General’s friends to help. At this point, anything that would make them sympathetic to taking on the Chinese was worth tossing onto the table.
As the group neared the outskirts of Salem, they began to see signs of life, and they stopped at a trading post that had half a dozen horses tied to a hitching post outside. Lucas noted the crudely painted sign of a stylized rooster holding an AR-15 and a whiskey bottle, the words “Rajun Cajun’s” emblazoned across the bottom, and nodded a greeting to a disheveled man in a threadbare Mexican poncho with colors so faded they were now just different shades of brown, with an AK hanging from a shoulder strap that looked like it was older than he was. Lucas dismounted and passed the man Tango’s reins, and glanced at the doorway.
“How’s biz?” Lucas asked.
“Crap since the bikers took over.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Lucas paused. “When did they do that?”
“Moved in a week ago. Came over and announced they get fifty percent of our take.”
Lucas’s eyebrows rose. “For what?”
“Protection. We asked from who, and they said them.”
“Sounds about right. This the Portland bunch?”
The man spit. “Yep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pay, I suppose. It’s up to the main man, but don’t see any way around it. Even with them bending us over, it’s still more than we’d make anywhere else.”
“Shame.”
“Ain’t everything?” The man pointed to Lucas’s M4 and Kimber. “Got to leave those out here. Sorry.”
Lucas handed his rifle and pistol to the man and stepped through the doorway. Inside was a dank room with weapons in wall racks and bins of ammunition denominated by caliber behind the counter. Three men faced him from the gloom, each uglier than the last. The tallest, wearing a black leather vest, a scar bisecting his face, grinned a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
“Help you, pardner?” he asked Lucas, in a thick creole accent.
“Just riding into town and wanted to know what’s going on there before we do.”
“Gang took it over. There’s now a big refugee camp outside the city limits. Everyone inside is under their control. I’d give it a miss if I was you, unless you want trouble, man.”
“Why now – after all these years?”
“Word is Portland’s poison. Nuke plant upriver. Most of ’em died by the time they figured it out. So the gang had to relocate. Lucky us. Couple hundred of the worst showed up with Portland in chains and overran Salem without much of a fight. So we got a new boss.”
“You don’t seem that thrown by it.”
“Seen too much to get worked up by a change of management. Not like the old bunch was much better. Although they didn’t extort us the same way.”
“How’s that?”
“The city used to tax us to be here. Now the bikers do. Only difference is the bikers charge more. But it’s better than nothing.”
Lucas nodded understanding. “Who do you trade with?”
“Them and the refugees, mostly. There’s three other places in town for the poor bastards in the city limits.”
“Sounds grim.”
“Not my problem. I keep my nose out of other people’s business.” He shrugged. “How you fixed for ammo?”
“Pretty good. Got any fresh fruit or vegetables?”
The man shook his head. “Not since the bikers got here. Keeping it all for themselves.”
“Shame.”
“Still plenty of fish and rabbits, and you can pick wild blackberries in a few months, so we’ll make do.”
Lucas looked around the showroom. “You have a radio?”
“Had one. Bikers took it.”
“Why?”
“Guess they don’t want the good news spreading any faster than it already has.”
“There any radios in Salem?”
“Used to be at least four, but same story.”
Lucas frowned – he’d been sure that a town the size of the state capital would have at least one working transmitter. But he hadn’t foreseen it being overrun by an outlaw gang that had established its own brand of martial law and gutted any communication.
He tipped his hat to the men. “You gents have a good one. Hope it gets better.”
“Like I said, best if you give Salem a pass. You don’t wanna get press ganged into one of their work details.”
That drew a smile from Lucas. “Might have their hands full trying.”
Lucas made his way back outside and filled his party in on the situation in town. Art’s expression grew serious at the news.
“Hope my buds are okay. If anyone would be, though, it’d be them.”
“Can we get there without going through town?” Ray asked.
Art assented. “It’s southwest of Salem, so shouldn’t be a problem. But I’m not getting a warm fuzzy from the Portland thugs taking over. I’ve heard enough stories from squatters to want to avoid them at all costs.”
They were all familiar with the tales of brutality and abuse that arrived daily with the refugees. Nobody had to ask what the General meant.
Jeb climbed into the saddle and glared at the others impatiently. “We don’t have time to waste lollygagging around here. Mount up.”
Art threw him a dirty look but didn’t say anything, nor did Ray. Lucas moved to Tango and tossed the man with the poncho a round of ammo for his trouble. “Much obliged.”
The man offered another grin. “I’d keep riding if I were you. Nothing here but misery.”
Lucas took the reins from him and swung lightly into the saddle. “Misery might be a step up.”
Chapter 24
Art led the way to his friends’ compound in what used to be wine country. They stayed off the roads, which were clogged with abandoned vehicles that had tried to escape the city and became snarled in traffic before ultimately running out of fuel. Other than a few spires of smoke from Salem, they saw nobody on the trail, and they reached their objective by early afternoon.
The walls of the compound were whitewashed and glowed in the sun as they neared. Lucas pulled abreast of Art and warned him to stop, and then studied the buildings with his binoculars as the rest waited, rifles in hand. When he lowered the spyglasses, his face was hard.
“Gate’s open. See any reason your boys would leave their place vulnerable to attack?” he asked.
Art shook his head. “No. Anyone around?”
“Nope.”
&
nbsp; They rode cautiously toward the cluster of buildings, now on alert, and when they reached the gate, Art indicated the largest structure to the right. “That’s their mess and meeting area. The other places are sleeping quarters. Over there’s the armory,” he said, pointing to a windowless cinderblock bunker with its steel door ajar.
“Not looking good.”
Art frowned. “No.” He motioned to the mess. “Should we spread out and search the place?”
Lucas shrugged. “Think we know what we’ll find, but might as well since we’re here.”
He swung down from the saddle, and the rest followed suit. Lucas spoke in a low voice as he scanned the interior of the compound.
“Ray, you and Jeb take those buildings. Art and I will take these,” he said, indicating the meeting area and the quarters to their left.
Ray raised a hand in agreement and walked with Jeb toward the barracks as Lucas led the way to the mess. It was immediately obvious that the building was deserted; the furniture was overturned and the place had been ransacked. They backed away from the mess and were searching the sleeping quarters when they were startled by a cry from Ray.
They emerged from the doorway to see Jeb and Ray standing outside one of the buildings, their expressions stricken. Lucas approached as Art hung back.
“What?”
“Dead man in that one. Picked clean by scavengers, but looks like a shot to the head killed him,” Ray said.
Lucas nodded and entered the building. A skeleton clad in frayed camo lay on the floor, where it had slumped from a crudely built wooden chair, the top of its skull marred by a hole the size of a walnut. Lucas took in the scene with a glance and retreated into the sun.
“Looks like he shot himself,” Lucas said.
“How do you know?” Jeb asked.
“Exit wound. Ate his pistol is my guess.”
“Where’s the gun?” Ray asked. “I didn’t see one.”
“Long gone.”
Art joined them and Lucas explained what they’d found. The General took a quick look and returned to where the men stood. Lucas shouldered his M4.
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 13