Lucas snicked from the corner of his mouth and Tango lumbered forward. They’d made it no further than a block when Lucas sensed a presence behind him. He continued on, and once he was sure that he was being followed and not ambushed, considered his options. Halfway down the block he spurred Tango to sudden speed, Colt’s horse in tow, and turned down a dark street.
Lucas drove Tango to a gallop and made a left at the next intersection. A hundred yards down he stopped at a cavernous car dealership that looked like a bomb had hit it, and guided the horses inside. Once out of sight of the street, he led the horses deep into the darkness and tied them at the back of the building, and then fished his crossbow from a saddlebag.
He surveyed the interior and spotted a stairway to a second story that faced onto the showroom. He took the steps two at a time and stopped at the first office, which had a window overlooking the floor.
Lucas listened for signs of the rider but heard nothing. The interior of the building was bathed in the greenish light of the monocle, but when he looked without it he could barely make anything out. Lucas cocked the crossbow using his foot and the rope pull and, after fitting a quarrel into place, heard the unmistakable sound of horses outside.
Three riders stopped at the building and stared into it, and Lucas realized one of them had night vision equipment as well, the distinctive headgear plainly visible. He ducked down, sure he would have to engage – they would see Tango and investigate.
He heard them dismount and then broken glass crunching beneath their boots as they entered the building. Lucas waited a few seconds and then inched up into the gap and sighted on the man with the NV equipment.
The crossbow snapped like a whip, and the bolt drove through the man’s chest. He gurgled and dropped his assault rifle as his companions glanced around, blind in the dark. Lucas cocked the bow again and set another bolt into place as the men scrambled for their fallen leader, and fired at the closest target.
The quarrel skewered the man through the shoulder blades, and his friend cried out.
“What the hell–”
Lucas had the bowstring drawn again and a quarrel in place in less than ten seconds as the man emptied his assault rifle into the darkness, spraying lead indiscriminately before feeling his way back toward the front of the showroom. He’d almost made it when Lucas’s third bolt caught him below his collarbone, shattering his scapula and sending him facedown into the debris.
The gunman howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Lucas was already in motion, all pretense of stealth abandoned. The shots would draw a patrol, he was sure, and he needed to get out of there before one arrived.
The last man hit was moaning and clawing at the carbon fiber shaft as Lucas walked toward him. Lucas leaned and scooped up his Kalashnikov, ejected the spent magazine, and slapped the full one taped to the empty in place, reversing the mags before chambering a round.
Lucas flipped the man over so he was face up, and knelt beside him.
“Why are you following me?” he asked.
The man shook his head. Lucas pulled the shaft the remainder of the way through the man and cleaned the blood from it. The man loosed a banshee wail. When it trailed off in a moan, Lucas tried again.
“Why were you following me?”
“Reward,” the man managed.
“From who?”
“The…Crew.”
“How did you find me?”
“We…watching for…strangers.”
“How many more of you are there?”
“Twenty…I got no beef…with you…”
Lucas’s voice was expressionless. “That’s good to know.”
“I…I needed the…money…” His statement ended with a burble from his chest.
“Not anymore. Sounds like it got your lung there. We both know you’re dead. Was it worth it?”
The man didn’t answer, his face blanching as he went into shock.
Lucas removed the man’s pistol from his hip holster and slid it into his vest, and then moved to the others and retrieved his arrows. When he finished, he hurried to where the horses were standing unharmed in the depth of the building and led them to the street.
Lucas climbed into the saddle and rode into the gloom. It was imperative now to get Colt and clear out of Albuquerque before he had another brush with the mercenaries the Crew had hired. The only good news for Lucas was that if they were using locals, there couldn’t have been many, if any, Crew in the city.
But there would be soon. Of that he was sure.
Lucas was back at the doctor’s office less than ten minutes later. The guards nodded to him as he strode toward the entry.
“Change of plans,” he said. He glanced at their belts. No radios. If they were in on it, they wouldn’t be able to contact anyone while he retrieved Colt.
Hodges looked surprised to see him as he made his way down the hall to the exam room.
“Thought you were gone,” the doctor said.
“We’re both leaving. Can you give him a shot or something, or will the pills do the trick?”
“Shot wouldn’t hurt. I have one prepared for the third bag. Let me get it.”
Hodges arrived at Colt’s side as Lucas was helping him off the table. The doctor emptied the contents of the syringe into the IV line and then removed the cannula once the amber liquid had worked its way into Colt’s vein.
“What’s the rush?” Hodges asked. “He really should stay till morning.”
“Emergency. Thanks for all the help,” Lucas said. “Can you have your boys help him onto his horse?”
“Of course.”
The guards had Colt in the saddle two minutes later. Lucas waited until they’d ridden around the corner and he was sure they weren’t being followed before telling Colt what had happened. Colt’s face turned mean when he heard.
“How did they know we’d show up here?”
“Fair question. But there’s not a lot north of Roswell, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to figure it out. Probably offered half the city a reward.” Lucas looked around. “We need to get out of here and hit the trail. I hate to ride at night, but I want some distance between us and Albuquerque by morning.”
“We can’t. Not yet.”
“We have to,” Lucas growled. “Let’s hope that penicillin works quickly. But you’re already in better shape than when we rode in.”
“No, I mean I have to get the password from our man here.”
“Password?”
“The Shangri-La guards will gun us down if we don’t know the password. It changes weekly.”
“Every minute we stay increases our odds of getting caught.”
Colt frowned. “Then we better make it quick.”
Colt’s contact lived on the south edge of town, a block down from a bar that was revving up as the evening progressed. Shouts and laughter echoed on the street and music drifted from the doorway – live, by the sound of it, a bluegrass fiddle and guitar feverishly wailing over the pandemonium.
“This is the place,” Colt said as he stopped in front of a darkened storefront. The entry and windows were protected by steel bars, and graffiti defaced every visible surface.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”
“Looks can be deceiving. Knock.”
Lucas swung down from the saddle and moved to the doorway. He reached between the heavy steel bars and rapped on the wood door. After thirty seconds with no response, he was reaching again when it opened with a creak and a man with a heavy beard and wild dark hair glared at him from inside.
“Go away,” he said, and Lucas could make out the snout of a double-barreled shotgun pointing at his chest.
“Steven, it’s Colt,” said Colt from atop his horse.
Steven looked over Lucas’s shoulder and then back at Lucas. “Who’s this?”
“I’m his chaperone,” Lucas said.
“I got bit by a snake. This is Lucas. He’s helping me.” Colt paused. “I need the password.”
Steven shook his head and eyed Lucas. “You sure that’s a good idea? Do they know he’s going?”
“They know everything. Now hurry up. They’re after us.”
“What? How?”
“You heard him,” Lucas said. “I had to kill three men to get him here.”
Steven nodded slowly. “Password’s Goldilocks. Good through Saturday.”
“Goldilocks,” Colt repeated.
“You going to be okay?” Steven asked.
Colt sighed. “Hope so.”
Lucas remounted Tango and they rode away, leaving Steven to stare at their backs as they vanished into the darkness.
Forty-five minutes later, after they’d dodged two patrols, they arrived at the edge of town. Lucas swept the surroundings with his night vision scope and nodded. “I don’t see anyone.”
“That’s a lucky break.”
“It is. But we need to break camp and move.” Lucas looked at Colt. “How you feeling?”
“Leg still hurts like a bitch. But I’m not as feverish.”
Lucas didn’t comment, though it was a good sign. “You sure about that Steven character?”
“Absolutely. He’s been an asset for three years. He keeps an eye on the town and radios in any developments.”
“So Shangri-La isn’t far?”
“I wouldn’t say that. We’ll still be riding a few more days.”
“You still can’t tell me where it is?”
“Sorry. Not my decision to make.”
Lucas rubbed a hand over the dusting of beard on his chin. “I understand. Can you at least tell me if there’s water along the way?”
“We won’t have any problems in that regard.”
They arrived at the camp, and Lucas offered a terse report. Sierra groaned when he told everyone to pack up, but she followed his instructions, and in a quarter of an hour they were ready to ride. Colt took the lead, sticking to the bank of the Rio Grande as its muddy current rushed past.
Halfway through their trip a patrol showed itself ahead, and they spent a tense twenty minutes hunkered down in the brush as the men relieved themselves in the river and passed a bottle around. Only once the militia had moved on did Lucas dare lead them beyond that point. The sound of an occasional hoot from one of the bars along the river reached them across the water, but the only living thing they saw as they reached the northern edge of town was a single night fisherman in a wooden skiff swaying in the current, his wooden rowboat anchored as he fished.
They followed the river north past the city, and five hours later stopped for what remained of the night. The city was now only a dark blemish on the distant horizon, and the water burbled a lullaby for their few hours of restive sleep.
Chapter 19
It was late afternoon when Sammy stopped his horse and pointed out the buildings at the base of a ridge of mountains.
“Albuquerque,” he announced.
Cano nodded. “If we’re lucky, they’ll still be here. After that many days of hard riding with an injured man, they’re probably resting and restocking.”
Luis held his tongue. If it were up to him, he’d have skipped the town altogether and left the snake-bit man to his fate. Why Cano believed they would take the risk of going into Albuquerque, he didn’t know, but he’d been right about many things so far, so Luis didn’t voice his thoughts.
“This is where I leave you,” Sammy said.
Sammy spun his horse around and retraced his steps down the trail, leaving them to make their way into town by themselves. Cano led the procession, and the sun was low in the western sky by the time they entered the city limits.
“Where to?” Luis asked as they rode down a main artery.
“Magnus gave me the name of a bar. We organized a welcoming committee for our friends through the owner. He’ll be able to tell us whether the trap worked.”
Luis fell silent. Cano hadn’t shared anything with him beyond that Magnus would hire some locals to watch for their quarry’s arrival. The Crew had no reach this far from its stronghold, but it had several like-minded confederates who facilitated trade between Lubbock and Albuquerque and who would do anything for a price. Luis had thought it a terrible idea to entrust capturing their quarry to strangers of unknown competence, but again, had said nothing – it was Cano’s funeral, not his, if the group that had annihilated the Crew’s force at the lake had outwitted some local yokels.
They reached the bar as purple and mauve ribboned the sky, and Cano ordered the men to wait outside while he spoke with their contact. He was gone for ten minutes, and when he returned, he looked ready to explode.
“There was a shoot-out. Three of our mercenaries were killed,” he announced.
“With the woman?”
“Unknown. They were watching one of the medical clinics. Our man thinks the snakebite victim showed up there – and something went wrong.”
“Obviously,” Luis said, drawing a glower from Cano.
“What do we do now?” Quincy asked.
Cano thought for several beats. “I want to have a talk with the doctor. He can tell us who he treated and at least confirm it was them.”
“And if it was?” Len asked.
“Then we hire a tracker and see if we can pick up their trail.”
“It’s a big city,” Luis observed. “If they’ve gone to ground, it could take weeks to find them.”
“I’ll triple the reward and broadcast it from the tallest buildings. Someone will turn on them.” Cano moved to his horse. “I already told the bar owner to tell everyone he knows that we’re offering a jackpot.”
Cano pulled himself up into the saddle, his overmuscled arms bulging beneath the green and blue prison ink, and rode off, leaving the rest of them to catch up. They wended through the city center until they arrived at the clinic as night fell. Cano dismounted and instructed his men to wait for him.
Cano approached the entry and called out to the guards, “Doctor here?”
“What’s wrong with you?” one of the guards asked.
“Cramps. Is he here?”
The guards exchanged an uncertain glance and the nearest one nodded. “I’ll tell him he’s got a patient.”
“Do that.”
Cano held off on shooting them. He didn’t want to attract the wrath of the militia, whom his contact had warned him about.
The man came back after several minutes and motioned to Cano. “He’ll see you now.”
The guard escorted Cano to the exam room, where Hodges waited, stethoscope draped around his neck. Cano took a seat on the table and waited until the guard left before answering the doctor’s question about what was wrong.
“What’s wrong, Doctor, is that I’m looking for someone who stole something very valuable from me, and I think you might have treated him.”
Hodges looked confused. Cano stood, filling the space with his bulk.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hodges stammered.
“He had a snakebite.”
The doctor wasn’t a poker player. He began backing toward the door. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients…”
“Doctor, there are two ways this can go. I can either pay well for anything you know, and then I leave and you never see me again; or I can mop the floor with you and still get the same information. You’re a smart man. Educated. This isn’t a tough choice.”
Cano could see in the man’s eyes that he believed him.
“For the sake of conversation,” Hodges said, “you mention payment. What did you have in mind? Not that I know much of anything.”
“Ten ounces of gold. Or all the pharmaceuticals you can carry. Whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Five minutes later Cano emerged from the clinic and stormed to his horse. He vaulted into the saddle and called out to the rest, “They were here. We need to find a tracker.”
Quincy frowned. “How will we know where to start looking?”
Cano turned to Quincy. “The doctor recognized th
e mud on their boots. From the river. I’ll put the word out – maybe there was a patrol or someone who saw them pass, assuming they aren’t still camped out. If we don’t get a lead, we’ll scour the bank until we find tracks.” He paused and his eyes narrowed. “One way or another, we’ll get them.”
Chapter 20
Lucas sat on a log by the creek with Eve by his side. Sierra watched intently as he showed the little girl how to toss a chrome spoon secured to the end of a hand line and slowly retrieve it in a manner that made it seem to swim, zigging and zagging in the current like a minnow racing for its life. Eve giggled each time he pulled the spoon out of the water and cast it downstream again, the monofilament uncoiling from the pile by his feet without tangling – a seeming miracle to her.
“Think we’ll actually catch anything?” Sierra asked after another toss.
“If there’s fish, we’ll catch ’em,” Lucas assured her.
“So jerky for dinner again?” Sierra responded.
“No. There’s always the crossbow. I’m sure there are some rabbits around.”
“I like bunnies,” Eve said as she followed the flashes of the swimming spoon.
“Everyone likes bunnies,” Sierra agreed.
“I’ll leave it to your aunt to explain the food chain some other time,” Lucas said, and Sierra gave him a slit-eyed look.
Following a four-hour rest, they had ridden all day once clear of Albuquerque and had clocked twenty-five grueling miles before calling it quits. They hadn’t seen a soul as they traced the river’s course north, easing Lucas’s worry that they might leave a trail of witnesses for the Crew to follow.
When pressed by Sierra, Colt had told them that he expected to arrive at Shangri-La within another day – two, on the outside. The terrain was slowly climbing as they worked their way toward Los Alamos after giving Santa Fe a wide berth, their surroundings green from the plentiful water supplied by the Rio Grande. But the increasing altitude was slowing the animals, and Colt warned that they could expect to make worse time the following day.
Lucas looked up at the sky, only a few high cotton ball clouds drifting east, and checked the time. He sat back as he wound the line in and smiled at Sierra.
The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) Page 9