The Day After Never - Blood Honor (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller)

by Russell Blake

She eyed the opening and nodded.

  “Can you make it with your leg?” Lucas asked.

  “What choice do I have?”

  He shook his head. “Can you hold onto me while I climb down? That’ll be easier on it than the ladder.”

  “I think so.”

  “Sling the AK over your good shoulder and give it a try.”

  She did and wrapped her arms around his neck with a small cry of pain.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said, registering the slick blood on his shoulder and arm.

  “Don’t worry about me. Ready?”

  A slam from down the hall echoed through the room. The gunmen were trying the doors, which apparently were open.

  He was out of time.

  Lucas lowered himself down the shaft, the pair of them barely fitting through the opening, and when they were in the tunnel, squinted up at the hole.

  “Are you going to pull the cover closed?” she asked.

  “No time. Can you run some more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then come on.”

  Lucas set the pace and she managed to keep up. He heard voices from the shaft and gave her the flashlight. “Make a right at the junction, and keep going a hundred yards. You’ll see another shaft leading up. It’s open. Wait for me there.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  His face darkened. “Welcoming committee.”

  Her footsteps receded as she moved deeper into the tunnel, and Lucas waited for his eyes to adjust before unslinging his M4 and sighting it on the area by the hospital’s chute. Light flooded the tunnel from above, announcing the arrival of the cartel gunmen. He didn’t wait for them all to make it down, opting to shoot the first Loco and then pirouetting to follow Sierra, using the M4 night scope to see.

  That would give them something to think about before another shooter dared to drop into a kill zone. His hope was that they would find reasons not to pursue him any further, at least until it was too late.

  He was at the junction when boots in the tunnel behind him announced that they hadn’t delayed long.

  Lucas made for where Sierra was waiting, closing the distance quickly, and hissed at her as he arrived. “Arms around my neck,” he ordered.

  He was halfway up the rungs when gunfire exploded through the tunnel. He forced himself upward, ignoring the shooting, and cleared the passage in seconds. Lucas climbed with all his might, muscles burning from the strain of both their weight, and was almost to the open manhole when Sierra whispered to him, desperate.

  “I can’t hold on.”

  He raised his right foot another rung and growled at her. “You have to.”

  “I…can’t.”

  Lucas let go of the rungs with his right hand and locked his fingers around her forearm. “Just another couple of seconds.”

  She didn’t say anything, her breath hot against his neck, and he pushed himself higher. Sierra let out a small cry from the strain of maintaining her hold, and then they were through the hole and he was scrabbling onto the dusty pavement with her. She released him and he rolled toward the manhole cover, reaching into his flak vest as he did. His hand emerged with the last grenade. He pulled the pin with his teeth, counted a few seconds, and dropped it into the tunnel before rolling away.

  The blast shook the ground, and then he was on his feet, helping Sierra up. “I have a horse a block away. Can you make it?” he asked.

  She looked up at him in the faint moonlight and nodded. “I’ll try.”

  They ran together, Sierra clinging to Lucas’s left arm for support. The two of them were the only ones on the desolate street, the surrounding buildings little more than ruins. When they rounded the corner and she caught sight of Gunner, Sierra exhaled in relief. “Thank God.”

  Lucas scanned the vacant lot to verify they were alone before shouldering his rifle strap and retrieving the radio from the pouch. He twisted the volume knob louder and listened to the chatter for several moments before turning to her, his expression glum.

  “Wouldn’t start celebrating. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  She eyed him in the moonlight. “Your arm…”

  “It’s clotting. Flesh wound. I’ll deal with it once we’re clear.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Lucas glanced at her and then up at the stars.

  “To see Eve.”

  Chapter 33

  Garret slammed his fist against the table as Paco paced by a broken window, two-way radio in hand.

  “What do you mean, she’s gone? How the hell can she be gone?” Garret roared.

  “I had six men guarding her. Someone must have broken her out.”

  “Six?” Garret considered the implications. “Damn it. We need to find her. Whatever it takes.”

  “After the attack on the courthouse, we’re thin, man. Got to regroup.”

  “How many do you have left?”

  Paco looked away. “Maybe…fifty? Sixty? I don’t know. Not that many.”

  Garret glared at him. “Get your best ten saddled up. Now.”

  Paco shook his head. “We don’t know what we’re up against. I’m not going to lose any more men tonight.”

  Garret was up in a flash and launched himself at the cartel leader. Paco wasn’t prepared for the move and stiffened as Garret’s fingers locked around his throat, pressing him against the wall. Garret’s knife flashed in the starlight from the window and the blade pressed against Paco’s neck.

  “Now listen, you little prick. You’ve screwed up every bit of this you’ve touched. You want to live to see morning, you do exactly as I say, or I’ll rip your throat out and feed it to the rats. Do you hear me – homey?” Garret growled, mouth close to Paco’s ear.

  “You crossing lines, man,” Paco warned.

  “You don’t get it, do you? I say the word, five hundred of my boys will drop on you like a building. They’ll erase you so fast you’ll think the earth opened up and swallowed you whole. So figure it out, ese. You want to live and play ball, or do I shut you down right now?”

  Paco tried to stare him down, but Garret was through with the punk’s swagger. His blade drew blood and he squeezed harder. Paco’s eyes bugged out and the veins in his temples popped so close to the surface the older man could see them pulse.

  “That’s your carotid artery, vato,” Garret whispered into Paco’s ear. “I cut you, game over. You should know that. You want to mad dog me, throw shade? Last thing you’ll ever do. Now you going to get real, or is it lights out for you?”

  Paco nodded slowly and looked away. “I hear you. Don’t need to get all up in my face, dude. Back off.”

  “You try to take me down, I’ll wipe the floor with you,” Garret warned, not releasing the cartel leader yet.

  “Yeah. I got it.”

  Garret loosened his grip and stepped back. He wiped his blade on Paco’s shirt front and sheathed the knife. “Call your men. We’re wasting time we don’t have.”

  Paco stood staring at him, unmoving.

  Garret eyed him. “We cool?”

  “This ain’t finished.”

  Garret nodded. “Fine by me. But we need to get the woman back, or there’s no place you’ll be able to hide from Magnus. You know his reputation. You really want to step to that?”

  “Don’t have to dis me like you did.”

  Garret decided to extend an olive branch. Anything that might help get the job done. “I needed to get your attention. I figured you want to live. No way you do if we don’t get her back.” He paused. “Nobody has to know what happened here. It’s between us. I’m sorry I had to do it.”

  “I know.”

  “Then we settle it later. But for now, call your men.”

  Garret turned from Paco and walked toward the door. He stopped and twisted in a crouch, his Sig Sauer P226 in his hand, so fast it was like a cobra strike. Paco’s sneer froze on his face, his gun only halfway clear of his holster.

 
The two men stared at each other. Garret motioned with his weapon. “Drop it.”

  Paco’s eyes darted left, and then the fight went out of him. His pistol, a chromed Desert Eagle .45, clattered on the floor. Garret closed on him in three steps and slammed the butt of his pistol against the thug’s skull. Paco bucked like a fighter taking a knockout punch, and Garret hit him again. Paco stumbled backward against the wall, and Garret continued pummeling him with his gun butt until Paco’s face was mush.

  The dead gang leader slid to the floor, and Garret wiped blood spray from his cheek with his forearm. He kicked Paco hard in the ribs and shook his head. “Stupid bastard. Got that trophy gun, size of a cannon. Takes way too long to get it clear.” Garret spit on the ruins of Paco’s face and kicked him again, and then lost interest in the dead man and moved to the two-way. He keyed the transmit button and spoke softly.

  “This is Garret. Paco wants ten of his best to meet us in front of the jail in ten minutes, mounted up, with NV scopes, and ready to rumble. And I need a horse for myself.”

  After several seconds, the radio crackled and the voice of Paco’s second-in-command, Luis, came over the channel. “Got it. See you there in ten.”

  Garret sat back at the table and poured himself a shot of tequila. He tossed it back without expression and swallowed, enjoying the burn. The Mexicans were still making it in small batches, using the same primitive techniques they had for hundreds of years; tequila and meth were two of their most sought-after products. He made a mental note to search some out when he got back to Houston, and poured another shot as he wiped the rest of the blood and bone fragments from his face.

  After they found the woman, he’d break the news to Luis in person: he’d just been promoted. Garret was certain he wouldn’t have a problem with the man. A violent repeat offender, prison-hardened and mean as a fighting dog, Luis would immediately grasp that it was his lucky night. He would cooperate, Garret was sure, or he’d wind up like Paco.

  No, Luis would understand who was in charge.

  Garret dropped his eyes to Paco’s still form and grinned.

  He was confident in his powers of persuasion.

  Chapter 34

  Lucas and Sierra bounced against the saddle as Gunner trotted along a bleak road. Sierra sat behind Lucas, her arms around his waist. He held the reins in his left hand as he stared intently through the monocle, watching for any hint of the cartel, the radio turned low, but audible. His ears perked up at the broadcast for a search party, and he nodded slowly as he backed off the volume.

  “Only one way north, and we’ve got to get past a guarded outpost.”

  “We can’t sneak across the tracks somewhere else?” Sierra asked.

  “No. They built a barrier along the railway. Closed off all the other approaches. And this horse is too tired to haul two of us at anything more than a crawl.”

  “You weren’t kidding about still being in the swamp.”

  “I don’t kid.”

  “I read between the lines.” She paused. “So what do we do?”

  “The guard will be on alert, so there’s zero chance we can take him. Only thing I can think of is try to find a weak spot in the barrier to slip through.”

  “That sounds better than shooting it out with a guard.”

  “Possibly more than one,” Lucas corrected.

  Sierra hesitated. “How’s your arm?”

  “When we stop to rest, I’ll bandage it and put some ointment on. Didn’t hit anything vital. Only a scratch.”

  Sierra fell quiet as they made their way toward the barrier wall. When they reached it, Lucas nodded as he inspected it. “Sloppy. We might just be able to do this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. See that?” he asked, pointing. “Those are just pallets they hooked together. I can probably pull them loose. They must have degraded some from the weather.”

  He dismounted, walked to the area he’d indicated, and heaved on the nearest pallet. It didn’t budge. Lucas unsheathed his knife and wedged it where the pallet was nailed to a post, and worked the wood free. He repeated the maneuver at the bottom, the post half rotten from the elements, and then pulled it loose. The pallet crashed aside, and he went to work on the upper one. Three minutes later he’d created a gap large enough for Gunner to get through, and they picked their way along the railroad tracks, looking for a promising part of the steep slope the horse could easily negotiate.

  Garret stalked to the waiting cartel gunmen, Kalashnikov in hand. He regarded the men and nodded to Luis.

  “All right. Whoever broke the woman out is probably taking her north. We need to spread out and cover all the possible trails. If you spot anything that looks like fresh tracks, holler, and we’ll follow them.” Garret eyed the riders. “What kind of night vision gear do we have?”

  “Three rifle scopes and two goggles.”

  Garret nodded. “That should do the trick.”

  “How do we know they’re headed north?” Luis asked.

  “That’s where the girl was last seen and where we found the woman originally. And it’s where your other men were killed. All roads lead north.” Garret paused. “Besides, there isn’t anything south for two days’ ride.”

  “Paco agreed with this?”

  “Yes.”

  Luis’s expression was guarded. “Good enough for me.” He hesitated. “Only one problem, though. They’d have to get past our guards watching the road north, and they’ve been radioing in regularly. Nobody’s passed their position.”

  Garret grunted. “That’s the only way?”

  “Yes. We built a wall to protect the perimeter.”

  “What about south?”

  “Same deal. Only one road out. Nobody’s left the city.”

  Garret thought a moment. “Let’s do a run around this wall of yours, see if it’s been breached. If not, then they’re still here.” Garret paused. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

  Luis led the procession to the guard outpost and the group split up, half riding east with Luis, the other west with Garret. Ten minutes into their inspection, Luis’s radio beeped and one of his men called in. “We’ve got a hole.”

  Luis swore. “Where?”

  “Twelve blocks from the road.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  Luis spun his horse around, put the spurs to it, and led his men at a gallop to where Garret was waiting.

  Garret pointed to the gap in the barrier wall. “There’s your escape route.”

  “Right. Lead the way.”

  The riders filed through the opening, Garret at the head of the line, and picked their way down the slope toward the railway. Once on the tracks, he and Luis stopped again to confer. Garret motioned to his left. “We’ll do this the same way. Split up, you go east. Holler if you find anything. They have to have left a trail of some kind.”

  Luis nodded. “Keep your radio on. They can’t have gotten far.”

  Half an hour later, Luis received a hail on his two-way. Garret’s rasp emanated from the speaker.

  “We found fresh tracks.”

  “How big a party?”

  When Garret spoke after a long pause, his voice was soft. “Looks like one horse.”

  “One! The rest must still be back in town. I’ll warn the others. This may not be over.”

  “Maybe. But time’s running out.”

  “We’re already riding toward you. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Chapter 35

  Gunner rested, grazing in the moonlight, as Sierra sat on a nearby rock with Lucas’s first aid kit, eyeing her handiwork. He flexed his arm to test the wrap around his bicep and nodded. Sierra had cleaned the wound with alcohol before applying a bandage and swathing the dressing with gauze. The white lightning had hurt like an unanesthetized root canal, but Lucas had suffered in silence, and the pain was already fading.

  He’d been keenly aware of Sierra’s proximity as she’d worked on him, and had done his best to mask his interest, but a part o
f him had to admit that it had been a long time since he’d felt the touch of a woman. Too long, he thought, and then banished the errant idea – this was neither the time nor the place.

  They’d both heard the exchange on the radio, and Lucas’s face was drawn in the gloom. He stood and eyed Gunner. “No way can this horse outrun the cartel’s fresh ones after an all-day ride. He’s beat.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  Lucas looked off into the darkness and then indicated the ruins of a roadside café in the near distance. “You hide out in there, and I’ll continue northwest until I get to some terrain where they won’t be able to follow the trail. Then I’ll circle back to the south. They’ll waste hours trying to pick up my tracks, by which time we’ll have enough of a lead so they’ll never find us.”

  “What makes you think they won’t find your tracks sooner?”

  “They know we’re headed north, so they won’t be looking south. Plus, it’s dark out, so they’ll be hard-pressed to find anything.”

  “You think that will work?” she asked skeptically.

  “Got any better ideas?”

  “We could send Gunner on his way, park in the building, and gun them down as they ride by.”

  “Right. Except we don’t know whether they’ve got night vision gear. If they do, that could be our death sentence.” Lucas paused. “Rule number one of successful engagement: always avoid a fair fight.”

  She nodded slowly. “How long will you be gone?”

  He looked off at the night sky. “Long as it takes.”

  Sierra frowned. “I can’t shoot them as they pass by? Not even a little?”

  Lucas studied her and turned without comment. She followed him to Gunner and repacked the kit in his saddlebag.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Lucas warned. “Or all of this will have been for nothing.”

  “What if something happens to you, and you don’t come back?”

  “I’ll come back.”

  “But what if you don’t?” she pressed.

  “Start walking at sunup.”

  Sierra looked like she was going to argue, but instead nodded wordlessly. Lucas climbed into the saddle and watched her with more concern than he showed as she limped to the building. The riders were an hour behind them, but would be closing fast, and he couldn’t waste any more time holding her hand. He gathered the reins and directed Gunner west in the hopes that the terrain turned rockier as he neared the foothills.