“I’ll take you up on that.”
Lavon beamed his million-dollar smile, which to Dale now looked more like a barracuda’s than anything.
“Any friend of Snake’s is a friend of mine.”
Chapter 35
Lucas waved to Miles as he rode through the compound gates, Sam and Art by his side and trailed by Ray, Jeb, and eighteen heavily armed men. The breakout in Salem had ultimately gone as planned, with Art appearing six minutes after everyone had arrived at the field, his horse rustling slowed by a patrol that had attempted to stop the General and been gunned down as its reward.
Once Sam’s people had reached Miles’s place, they were fed and given weapons, and Miles ordered four additional guard outposts created on the approaches from town to act as an early warning system if the bikers mounted an offensive. Lucas and Sam had different opinions about whether the bikers would go in search of the culprits who had broken the prisoners out and stolen their horses – Sam thought the odds were good, whereas Lucas had argued that they would be smarter to consolidate their hold on Salem and concentrate on defending what they had, rather than embarking on adventures that would stretch them thin.
Ultimately Miles had agreed with Lucas, whose success in taking on the bikers had increased his standing with everyone, and who’d seen the number of volunteers willing to ride to Astoria double. Many of Sam’s group also wanted to go, but most were too weak from their captivity to do so, and Lucas nixed all but a few. Sam ultimately decided to sign up for the duty at the last minute, and Lucas was glad to have another hardened fighter with a good head on his shoulders to round out his group.
With twenty-three men, he could formulate a strategy to free the women that had a reasonable chance of success, using the same rough tactics as they’d executed in Salem: create a diversion and break out the prisoners while the Chinese were chasing their tails. There were more of the Chinese than there had been of the bikers, and they were more disciplined, but if the diversion was substantial enough, the reaction would likely be the same – and unlike with Salem, Ray had a decent idea of the layout and could guide the fighters into town without detection.
With any luck at all, Lucas was confident that the armed group could make it to Astoria with two days of hard riding. All of the horses were fresh, and other than weapons and ammo, weight had been kept to a minimum so the animals could go longer each day with less fatigue. Because they were traveling light, they carried only a week’s worth of dry stock and would provision by hunting and fishing as they went, giving the toxic Columbia River a wide berth.
The first day went favorably, and they covered over forty miles without seeing anyone. When they made camp, Lucas and Sam convened a meeting with Art and the most experienced fighters to hammer out a plan. They sat around a small fire, the night’s frigid wind thirty degrees below the relative warmth of the day, and discussed the best way to achieve their objective of freeing the prisoners while impeding the Chinese invasion effort as much as they could.
“We can get our hands on whatever ordnance we need at the base,” Lucas informed them. “You name it, it’s there. Grenades, mortars, demolition charges, the works. So we have options.”
Art nodded. “That’s positive. If we do this right, we could make it seem like the world was ending for them. Bombs going off, mortars hitting their headquarters…all hell breaking loose.”
“If we’re successful, that should cripple the town defenses, but it doesn’t solve the bigger problem, which is the command center,” Lucas said. “The ship is the key to knocking out their ability to coordinate their invasion, at least until another one shows up.”
“Portland has to be pretty miserable for them, so no love for them there,” Sam pointed out. “Based on the stories floating around, if they took over the city, it’ll do our work for us.”
“Maybe, but we can’t depend on that,” Art said. “If you want to put an end to this, or at least make them reconsider whether it’s worth continuing with the invasion, you need to take out their command. That means we have to target the ship. If not, whenever they feel like it, they can use the long guns and lay down a barrage, whether on Astoria or any other town in its range, including Newport. Eliminate that, and you leave the remaining troops stranded with no supply lines or chain of command. No radio to contact home to get direction or to warn them. That would be devastating.”
“That’s more ambitious than what I had in mind,” Lucas said. “I just want to rescue Ruby and the others, not wage war on the Chinese.”
“But that’s shortsighted. You said it yourself: the Chinese are going to keep coming. If you want to assure anyone’s safety for longer than a minute, you have to go after them – just like we went after the bikers. There’s no other way. Either us or them.”
“Only we didn’t take out the bikers for good,” Sam said.
“Because we have other fish to fry,” Art said. “But if you want to be rid of snakes, best to eradicate the nest. Otherwise they’re going to continue to dominate everyone else. I for one don’t like the idea of criminal scum or a foreign power running my life. Maybe you do. Different strokes.”
“It’s not that I like it,” Sam countered. “But it’s been hard to rally a concerted effort to take them on. Believe me – we’ve discussed it plenty of times. In the end, it’s a safer bet to hunker down and let things play out.”
Lucas appeared thoughtful. “Maybe it’s time for that to change. Been over five years since it all went upside down. If it stays that way for good, who do you have to blame?”
“Easier said than done,” Sam said.
“My grandfather used to say that nothing worth doing’s ever easy,” Lucas replied.
Sam sighed. “Lucas, we’re only, what, twenty-three people? You’re talking about taking on an army.”
Lucas made no effort to deny the scale of the undertaking. “I seem to recall a war we fought not that long ago where guerillas beat us to a standstill. My grandfather served in Vietnam. I heard the stories. Amazing what a few fellas in PJs with an AK can do if they put their minds to it.”
“More than a few,” Sam fired back.
“Then maybe we need to up our game some and find more fighters,” Art said.
“Great idea. Where?” Jeb said, his tone derisive.
Art shot him a dark glare. “Let me think on that some.”
“You do that. Meanwhile we need to get back to reality and focus on how to free my family.”
“Better to kill two birds, Jeb,” Lucas said, his expression thoughtful. “If there’s a way to do both, we should take a hard look at it. Art might be right about this.”
“You’re dreaming,” Jeb said.
Art shook his head. “Maybe not. A coordinated, well-planned surprise attack could work, especially if the majority of the soldiers are distracted onshore.”
“So now we’re not just talking about freeing my family, but going up against a Chinese warship? This is crazy,” Jeb said.
Lucas addressed the General. “You have any ideas about how to sink a ship with only a few people?”
Sam sat forward. “If they’re anything like our boats were, the magazines are directly below the gun turrets. If you could set a shaped charge in with all the shells…that could do the trick. It would blow the whole kit and caboodle in half.” He paused. “I was in the Navy,” Sam explained. “Served for three years on a destroyer.”
Lucas thought for a moment. “How would you access the magazine?”
“There’s probably a hatch. Nowadays the loading systems are automated, but for maintenance and the like, there would have to be some way of getting into them.”
“Think you could help assemble a charge that would work?”
“Depends on what you have – you wouldn’t need that much to set off the chain reaction. You said you had mines and demolition gear, so I should be able to. No guarantees, but it’s a better than even shot.”
“It would have to be portable enough for one or
two men to carry.”
“If there’s Semtex or anything similar in that base of yours, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Then all we would have to do is get onto the ship with the charge and place it, right?” Art asked.
Jeb snorted and stood. “This is completely insane.”
Lucas looked up at him. “Jeb, you’re entitled to your opinion, but it’s hardly insane. If we can free our people and also take out the ship, it would show everyone that we can win serious battles. But let’s try it your way – we rescue everyone, and then what? Head to Newport? Fine. And one day soon, the Chinese come. Then what? Can’t outrun a radio or a well-trained army. No matter what you do, you’re going to face the same problem. In my experience, it’s better to pick battles you can win, when nobody thinks you can do anything, than to have to fight to the last man. Which your fine townspeople have shown they aren’t willing to do – or have you forgotten the outpouring of help we got from them?”
Jeb looked away. “I’m not standing up for what they did.”
“Then stop shooting down everyone’s opinions like you have some special insight. You don’t. You’re not a combat veteran. You have no idea what’s possible or isn’t, whereas some of these gents do. Don’t know how it works in Oregon, but where I come from, if you don’t know what you’re talking about, you tend to shut up and let those who do, talk.” Lucas stared at him hard. “Now, you going to sit down and button it, or you want me to let you know what everyone decided after the meeting’s over?”
Jeb appeared ready to bolt; but then, with a visible effort, he regained his composure and retook his seat, his arms crossed.
The discussion went long into the night, and by the time the men had agreed on what they were going to do, the fire had burned down to a few embers. Lucas unfurled his bedroll in its glow and lay down to stare at the stars, whose position told him that he only had about five hours left before dawn and another hard day’s travel. He pushed his hat over his brow and patted his M4 by his side, and then closed his eyes, the tension draining from his limbs as sleep overtook him, his dreams filled with visions of Sierra and his new family living at peace in a land far removed from invaders, warlords, or roving gangs of murderous miscreants.
Chapter 36
Dale slowed and motioned for the column of mercenaries he’d hired to halt as the sun sank like a red ember into the mountains surrounding Pagosa Springs. The men were a motley collection of the dregs of humanity, rangy, rawboned trail trash who’d as soon slit your throat as spit, but cut from a bolt of cloth Dale was familiar with from his time behind bars – killers for hire without conscience who didn’t worry about the future and had no interest in the past.
Lavon had delivered a varied assortment of human garbage for his approval, and Dale had hired all but two men, both of whom had showed up drunk – which, judging by the network of gin blossoms on their faces, was their normal state. He had thirty fighters in all, more than he’d hoped for, although he’d had to promise even more gold to the last ten, who’d received nothing in advance once his bars had run dry. They’d still agreed to sign on with the promise of three ounces per man once the mission was complete, delivered in Durango by a Crew member out of Lubbock, who was already on the way, per Snake’s last communiqué.
“The town’s down there in a valley,” Dale said. “We’ll wait until nightfall and then go in hard once everyone’s asleep. Again, we take no prisoners. Scorched earth.”
“What about the women?” asked Chris, one of the dominant mercs by virtue of his experience as a paid killer.
“Should be plenty, but save them till the men are all dead. You can amuse yourselves all you want, but nobody’s left alive when we ride out of here.”
“Works for me,” Chris said with a leer.
Dale directed his horse down a steep trail that forked off into the verdant hills, well away from the guard posts he’d spotted on his earlier trip. He wanted to take no chances of alerting the town of his approach, and had selected with great care the spot they would lie in wait before heading to Durango. When he reached a small clearing in a flat area away from prying eyes, he reined his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle.
“Water your animals and let them graze. No fires, and no noise. We’re too close now to slip up,” he warned, noting the dying light in the sky.
Two hours later the moon was bright, bathing the clearing in a bluish otherworldly glow. The hired guns dozed by their horses, their weapons cleaned earlier and ready for extended use, their ammo belts full, and their vests packed with as many magazines as they could carry. Dale surveyed the area with satisfaction. The town wouldn’t know what hit it; he planned to sweep through it like a plague, slaughtering everything in his wake.
Chris approached where Dale was seated, his back to a tree, and squatted down. Dale could smell the acrid tang of road sweat soaked through his clothes, but didn’t flinch – he was used to poor hygiene, and a little funk wouldn’t kill him.
“I been thinking,” Chris began, keeping his voice low. “They’re gonna have horses and guns. Maybe gold. Could be a lot of it, right?”
“First I heard of it. What’s your point?”
“I think we should each get a cut of whatever we wind up taking.”
“Each?” Dale didn’t care about any booty, but he was curious to hear the man’s logic.
“Yeah. We all rode out here together. We’re facing the same risks. So we should get a piece of this, is all.”
“You’re being well paid. That’s not enough?”
“You’ll need our help to carry anything back with you,” Chris said, the implicit threat of noncooperation clumsily delivered.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But again, you’re being paid a fortune already. Why do you think you deserve more?”
Chris switched approaches, seeing the first hadn’t done much to convince Dale. “All the other raiding parties I been part of worked that way.”
“This isn’t a raiding party.” Dale yawned. “I have other things to worry about. We’ll figure this out later. Right now you should be double-checking your gear. It’s going to get ugly when we hit.”
Chris’s hand settled on his pistol butt. “I want my cut, is all.”
“I heard you. We’ll talk about it after, not before.”
Dale’s tone made it clear he wasn’t amused by the overture, and Chris retreated. Dale watched him walk away and allowed a small smirk. They were all the same – unreasoning in their greed, never satisfied. The man’s demands hadn’t surprised Dale. These vermin had been hanging around in a dead-end town, drinking their dinners, with no prospects and no skills other than a willingness to kill, and Dale had shown up and dropped the equivalent of a small fortune in their laps – and it hadn’t been enough. Suddenly they were all high-value assets who deserved far more.
The predictable folly was as perennial as their short life expectancies, all destined to be offed by equally despicable adversaries, their pointless existences as disposable as spent cartridges. But Chris bore watching. His failure to read Dale coupled with his pushiness made him dangerous, and Dale didn’t want to be back shot by him if the mercenary thought it would gain him an advantage.
Just after two in the morning, Dale walked his horse toward the town. The river valley lay bathed in moonlight that caused the buildings to stand out in stark contrast to the patches of snow still on the ground from the last remnants of winter. The men followed in a column, rifles in hand as they kept tight grips on the reins, the only sounds the crunch of their boots and their horses’ hooves on the loose shale.
Once on the outskirts of the hamlet and well past the guard post at the roadblock a half mile away, Dale gave the signal to mount up and, when the men were all in the saddle, spurred his horse forward at a gallop. The mercenaries followed in a loose formation, steam billowing from their animals’ noses as they rocketed down toward the main boulevard like a barbarian horde.
Dale pointed to a building in good re
pair to their right, and two of the gunmen rode toward it as he continued with the main group to the bridge and the complex on the other side, where much of the activity had centered during his short vigil. He arrived at the hotel and dropped from the saddle, AK clutched to his chest, searching for a target, and ran at full speed toward the rooms, the windows black as pitch.
At the first suite, he kicked the door open, rifle pointed inside, but instead of a sleeping form, he was greeted by an empty room. He moved to the next and encountered the same; at the next, still nothing.
An hour later it was obvious that the band of deadly mercenaries had successfully overrun an empty town. Dale paced in the hotel lobby, the warmth of the hot springs slim comfort in light of the epic failure of allowing Shangri-La’s rebels to escape. The gunmen lounged around the interior, watching their leader, some dozing, others munching on jerky.
Eventually Dale turned to them with a glower. “At first light we’ll see if we can pick up their trail. A group that size had to leave tracks.”
Chris gave him an ugly smirk and shook his head. “We didn’t sign up for tracking. The job was come here and lay waste. We came, and far as I can see, we did the job.”
“The job was to find the people here and kill them.”
“Right. We’re here. They aren’t. So it’s time to pay us. If you want us to track them halfway across the country, that’s a new gig – and I didn’t sign up for that.”
Dale fought to control his anger, and when he spoke, he kept his tone measured. “Fine. One more gold ounce for each of you as payment for tracking.”
Chris grinned in triumph. “Let’s see it.”
Dale snorted. “I don’t carry that kind of loot around with me on a raid. But you know I’m good for it. I’ve got a messenger meeting me in Durango when we get back.”
Chris shook his head. “Yeah, I heard you had to promise a bunch of these here men gold instead of handing it to ’em. Problem is if you get killed or something, we’re left holding nothin’ but hot air. The way I see it, if I don’t have it in my hand, I got nothin’. So, no offense, you don’t have the gold, I’m not playin’ no more.”
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 19