“The Doc is one of those rare birds who only needs four or five hours of sleep,” Michael added.
“One of the benefits of old age,” Elliot said.
“Ruby used to live in a bunker too,” Sierra said. “Isn’t that right?”
“Did you really?” Elliot exclaimed.
“Yes, well, it did the job.” Ruby told him about her bunker. When she was finished, Elliot was frowning.
“What a tragedy that you lost it,” he said. “We owe you so much.”
“Spilt milk,” Ruby said with a shrug, although her eyes were moist.
Elliot showed them around the laboratory, explaining the different pieces of equipment, including a level 4 clean room setup where he could work with pathogens like the virus. Lucas was uncomfortable being in the same area with something so virulent and deadly, but Elliot assured them that it was perfectly safe.
“Another reason I stuck this under a mountain – very little chance of anything damaging the vault and letting our bug escape. We poured three feet of high-density concrete in the floors, walls, and ceilings of the lab to ensure nothing nature threw at us would cause a problem.”
“It’s very impressive. But why not use the facilities at Los Alamos?” Ruby asked.
“Too obvious and out in the open. And too many ghosts,” Elliot said with a shudder. “Or rather, bad memories.”
Ruby let the subject drop, as Elliot was obviously agitated by the question.
“There’s much more to show you. The computer area, for one. Ruby, I think you’ll approve. Then the communications room, the mess facility…”
Arnold nodded. “Speaking of which, it’s way beyond lunchtime. Let’s go grab something to eat.”
“That sounds great,” Lucas said.
The dining area was in one of the aboveground buildings, large enough to seat a hundred and fifty at the long bench tables in one sitting. Elliot led them past a few scattered groups of late diners to the service counter, where they scooped out helpings of chicken stew and rice with vegetables. A woman brought them pitchers of freshly made fruit punch, and they sat at the nearest table and dug in.
The food tasted like ambrosia, and they all overate, Elliot’s appetite nearly equal to theirs. When they were done, he sat back and rubbed his ample belly. “That hit the spot, don’t you think?”
“It was wonderful,” Sierra said.
Elliot glanced at Eve. “Somebody looks sleepy. I don’t blame her. Perhaps a siesta? We really have nothing for you to do until the celebration tonight.”
“Is a celebration really necessary?” Sierra asked.
“Of course it is! Your arrival is the biggest event of the year. We’ve made some hard cider, dressed venison, and everyone’s looking forward to the feast. Get some rest, because it will probably go late.”
“No point in arguing,” Michael said. “We never turn down an excuse for a party.”
“I like this place already,” Ruby said, and everyone laughed.
They made their way back to their rooms, and Lucas was asleep within a minute of his head hitting the pillow. The last image in his mind was Sierra in her white dress, her tanned arms glowing in the sun, and the tattooed eye staring at him like a fury.
Chapter 25
Elliot hadn’t been kidding about the enthusiasm of the Shangri-La residents for a blowout, and the mess hall as well as the outdoor area around it was packed. A four-piece acoustic band played folk and country music outside, where tables had been set on the freshly trimmed grass.
Lucas sat between Colt and Sierra, with Eve next to her aunt and Ruby and Elliot across from them. Elliot entertained them throughout the meal with stories of developing Shangri-La into a refuge for civilized living, as well as his plans to develop a vaccine that would save mankind.
“The vaccine idea came later, honestly,” Elliot explained, finishing his monologue. “I originally conceived of the place as a refuge from the madness out in the world, and wanted a lab to develop medicine to save people. I knew early on that existing stocks would expire in a few years, and figured there would be a thriving market for antibiotics, blood pressure meds, a few other things.”
“He was right about that,” Michael interjected from Elliot’s left.
Arnold held up a cup of cider, his face flushed from the alcohol. “As he usually is!”
Everyone toasted for the umpteenth time, and Sierra leaned closer to Lucas and gave his cup an extra clink. Lucas, ordinarily no drinker, felt light as air from the booze and the altitude; his head swam slightly, and he made a mental note for the third time that this was his last cup of cider of the night.
Sierra had looked ravishing when he’d seen her at dusk, her dress now decorated with several wildflowers, her slim form silhouetted by the torches that encircled the dining area. Eve had been playing with a group of six other children, laughing with the innocence of youth at some simple game, and Lucas had stood frozen at the sight of Sierra as the warm evening breeze stirred her hair, her long, lean legs finishing with the combat boots that were her only shoes.
She’d drifted to him like a wraith and planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, and the moment had seemed to last forever, time suspended for a beat that was a small eternity. When she’d pulled away, her eyes had been bright and penetrating, and Lucas had felt a thrill run up his spine. She’d taken his hand and led him to the table, where he’d spent the last two hours trying not to think about her naked form with only scant millimeters of fabric covering it.
Ruby was engrossed in a conversation with a reed-thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and three days’ growth of beard, whom Elliot had introduced as Terry, one of their mechanical specialists as well as a pilot. Apparently Terry was also funny, because Ruby had spent much of the evening laughing at his observations between sips of cider.
“So, a pilot, huh? Where’s your plane?” she asked when the music quieted during a slow song.
“Over on the other end of the valley. Just a single-engine Cessna, but it does the job.”
“Which is?”
“Flying to the dam, mainly. And anything the Doc wants me to do.”
“What do you run it on?”
“Ethanol. I detuned it so the compression will handle it, and replaced all the seals. Runs like a champ. I’ll take you up sometime if you like.”
“As long as you have a parachute for me. Just in case.”
Terry leaned into her and murmured something in her ear. Ruby blushed and laughed like a schoolgirl. Lucas and Sierra shared a sidelong glance – it appeared their travel companion had made a new friend.
Elliot called out when the band took a break, and then delivered a ten-minute oration that was both florid in its praise of the newcomers and endearing in the heartfelt gratitude it expressed. When he took his seat again, Michael stood and gave his own, shorter speech, welcoming them to the enclave and thanking Providence for their safe arrival. Much toasting ensued, and in spite of his resolve, Lucas’s cup seemed to empty itself yet again before another pour from the never-ending procession of pitchers magically filled it.
Sierra was laughing at something he’d said, but he didn’t remember what, her eyes flashing in the torchlight. Lucas steadied himself and pushed his drink away, wary of the home-brewed concoction, and blinked away the slight wave of weightlessness that passed through his body.
“What’s that?” he asked, suddenly aware that Elliot had said something to him.
“I said there’s plenty more where that came from. The night is young, even if I’m not.” Elliot waved his goblet and winked at Lucas, and the scene suddenly seemed surreal, a fête in a secluded glen as distant from the dangers of the trail as anything he could imagine.
The band returned and struck up a ballad Lucas recognized from pre-collapse days. Sierra leaned her head against his shoulder and squeezed his hand.
“Come on. Dance with me.”
Lucas frowned. “Not much of a dancer.”
“Prove it.”
They swayed together, the singer crooning a lament about never-ending love over the strumming guitars and the melody of a mandolin, and then they were kissing again. The world around them faded to a blur, their tongues darting and lips crushing in a hunger that was all-consuming.
Lucas didn’t know how they wound up in his room, how Sierra was lifting her dress over her head, her body a miracle in the faint starlight filtering through the gauze curtains. All he knew was that she was with him, tearing at his shirt, and then they were naked, falling together onto the bed, all hot skin and steaming breath and soft lips and entwined limbs and a sensation like sinking into a warm ocean whose surf broke against the shore again and again until they both lay panting, their passion and energy, for the moment, spent.
Chapter 26
Dust motes drifted lazily in the sunlight streaming through the curtains as Lucas rolled over and opened his eyes. He squinted against the glare and raised a hand to his head, which was throbbing like he’d gone ten rounds with a bear. He rubbed his face and patted the bed beside him with his other hand, and then sat up.
The bed was empty.
He remembered Sierra sleeping beside him, the sound of her soft breathing, the look of her face, childlike and peaceful in slumber, and smiled. He could still taste her lips on his as vividly as he could feel the soreness in his muscles from the night’s demands.
Lucas shook his head and immediately regretted the movement. So much for taking things slowly once they arrived at Shangri-La and figuring out their relationship. Part of him felt guilty, but he knew it was irrational – his wife had been gone for five years, and he’d mourned her passing every one of them, but he was only human, and at some point it was reasonable that he’d be interested in someone new.
That the someone was a woman he’d rescued, about whom he knew almost nothing, was par for the course in the chaotic new reality that was his life. And it wasn’t like he’d coerced her into bed – they’d both been willing participants, so there was nothing to be guilty about.
“You’re in the swamp now,” he muttered, Sierra’s scent still on the sheets.
Lucas swung his legs off the bed and stood. He padded to the bathroom, twisted on the shower, and luxuriated in the soft spray of hot water that washed over him. When he was done, he toweled off, ran his fingers through thick hair, and donned his clothes. A glance at his watch told him that he’d slept far later than normal – it was coming up on eleven, and he was usually awake with the rising sun.
When he stepped outside, he winced at how bright it seemed. He made his way over to the mess building and found a quiet corner to wolf down some eggs prepared by a stern woman wearing a blue apron and matching hat.
Arnold entered halfway through Lucas’s breakfast and nodded to him before loading a plate with food. He sat across from Lucas and offered a hushed greeting before digging into his meal. When he finished, he sat back and gave Lucas a bleary stare, his eyes red and puffy.
“Quite a shindig, huh?” Arnold said.
“Yeah. That cider’s a killer.”
The security chief nodded agreement. “Got to pay the toll for the fun. Nothing’s for free.”
“Don’t need to ask how you feel.”
“That obvious?”
Lucas didn’t answer, preferring to wait while a wave of dizziness passed.
Arnold cleared his throat. “What do you have planned for the day?”
“Nothing much.”
“I can take you around and show you the rest of the place, if you like.”
“I’d appreciate that. Be interesting to see how you organized things to support three hundred people. Especially when you’re buried in snow half the year.”
“It isn’t that bad. More like three or four months.” Arnold shrugged. “At least in winter we don’t have to worry about anyone discovering us.”
“You’re about as remote as I can imagine. How far’s the nearest town?”
“Santa Fe’s a long day’s ride downhill, two back.”
“You ever have anyone stumble across you?”
Arnold frowned. “Not yet. But there’s always a first time.”
“Seems like you’ve got some natural defenses with the canyons. No roads leading anywhere nearby, are there?” Lucas asked.
“No. We destroyed all the roads to the west and engineered a few rock slides to seal off those approaches. Only way in is the canyon.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
“Nothing is, but this is close,” Arnold acceded.
“How long you been here?”
“Coming up on four years.”
Lucas nodded. “How did you find out about it?”
“The Doc recruited me out of Santa Fe.”
“What were you doing there?”
Arnold looked away. “Little of this and that. Trading. Trying to stay alive. You know what it was like the year after the flu hit.”
“I remember well.”
“I had a few men I’d organized for mutual defense, but things were touch and go. Santa Fe was getting raided almost monthly by one group or another. When I was offered a job here, I jumped at it. Brought my men, and haven’t left since except for a few trading runs to town and some expeditions to get weapons or supplies.”
“Where did you go for weapons?”
“National Guard armory down in La Cienega. Same in Albuquerque. Back in the early days they hadn’t been completely looted and stripped, at least not the good stuff. Now they’re empty buildings.”
“Get anything good?”
“Three .50-caliber Brownings. Twenty thousand rounds. Some mortars, a few AT4s, frag grenades, M4s and M16s. Much as we could carry without attracting too much attention.”
“No missile systems?” Lucas joked.
Arnold laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t try. They put me in charge of security, and I took the job seriously.”
“I bet.”
They rose and carried their trays to the kitchen before making for the entrance. Lucas almost ran Ruby down as she stepped through the door with Terry behind her.
“Well, good morning,” Ruby said.
“Morning. You just get up?”
“Oh, no. We’ve been awake for hours. Just came in looking for you,” Ruby said.
Lucas caught the we, but didn’t comment. “Yeah?”
“I wanted to see if you were interested in seeing Terry’s plane.”
Lucas looked to Arnold, who rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said. “But I wanted to check on Colt.”
“Already did. He’s stable. The doctor’s keeping him for a few days while he mends.”
“Not surprised.”
Terry rubbed his hands together. “Well, then, let’s go. It’s quite a walk. Might want to take our horses.” He glanced at Arnold. “You going to tag along?”
“I’ve got to make the rounds. Lucas, look me up when you’re done. I’ll probably be around the lab entrance.”
“Sure thing.”
Terry led them to the stable. Tango whickered to see Lucas, and he gave his steed a few pats and checked his legs for any signs of inflammation or soreness. Noting none, he saddled up with the rest of the party, and they rode west for several miles, following the creek until they could cross at a shallow stretch. They approached a building, the exterior raw cinderblock, and Terry dismounted.
“The hangar,” he proclaimed. Ruby and Lucas followed him off their horses as he strode to a roll-up door and raised it with a clatter. “Got this from town,” he said. “Loading dock wasn’t using it anymore.”
They peered inside the dark space and saw the dark form of a small prop plane. Terry walked to it and tapped the fuselage. “Cessna
U206A. Runs like a top, if not all that quickly. But it’s not like I’m in a hurry to get anywhere.”
“You take it up often?” Lucas asked.
“Not as often as I’d like. Don’t want to attract attention, so mostly at night.”
Terry gave them a tour of the plane and rattled off a host of technical specs, smiling as he spoke. When he concluded the presentation, he waited for questions like a high school teacher at the end of a lecture. Lucas obliged with some about the engine, which he fielded with enthusiasm, obviously passionate about his baby.
They waited by the horses as he closed the hangar, and Lucas murmured to Ruby, “You see Sierra around this morning?”
Ruby regarded him for a moment. “No. Why?”
“Nothing. It’s just…she wasn’t with me when I woke up.”
Ruby restrained the smile that flitted across her face. “You two were heating up the dance floor last night, that’s for sure. Can’t say as I’m surprised, given how she looks at you.”
Lucas shrugged, not wanting to explain. “Just thought she’d stick around some.”
Ruby shook her head. “Not necessarily. Never assume you know what’s running through a woman’s head.”
“I learned that lesson a long time ago.”
“She’ll show up again when she’s ready.”
“I figure.”
Terry guided them back to the complex, recounting his background as they rode. He’d been a master mechanic in the Navy and then earned his pilot’s license in his thirties, caught by the flying bug after a few trips with a friend. He’d saved carefully most of his life, and when his wife had passed away ten years before the flu, he’d bought the Cessna at auction and rebuilt it from the ground up. The project had clearly consumed him as he approached retirement from the auto repair shop he’d founded.
They strolled back to the barn and handed the horses over to stable hands, and Lucas went in search of Arnold, watching for Sierra as he walked to the caves. Arnold was speaking with one of his men when Lucas arrived at the lab entry. He quickly ended the conversation and moved to Lucas.
The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) Page 12