Sampson's Legacy: The Post-Apocalyptic Sequel To Legacy Of Ashes (Earth's Ashes Book 2)

by Ric Beard

  “So?” he splayed out his arms.

  “Seems your men took a cut off the last shipment,” Ruby said, “Pretty clear to me.” She pointed the tip of her blade at the pouch.

  “You should watch your mouth. My men are dead.”

  Bradshaw was big, temperamental, and violent. No, not just violent, jubilantly brutal. His joy at executing his enforcer captain over the Churchill slaughter was proof enough. She didn’t need to poke this bear.

  …Set me up!

  “Bradshaw, I’m sorry you lost men. Don’t let it cloud your judgment.”

  “You calling me weak, Ruby?” He stepped toward her. “Just because Sampson—”

  Ruby held up both hands, palms out, fingers splayed. “I’m not calling you shit.” She grasped and held up the bag. “What’s that look like to you?”

  Bradshaw cocked his head to one side. “Ration pack?”

  “Right. A ration pack filled with white. Almost like someone lifted a bag, filled ration packs, and delivered the rest.”

  Bradshaw’s head turned slowly back to the closest dead man. Stomping over, he rolled the man onto his side and began digging through his pockets. As his hand emerged from the third one he checked, gold coins rattled to the dirt, and Bradshaw held a fistful of chits. He showed them to Ruby, and she nodded. Bradshaw kicked the dead man’s head. Something cracked as the head twisted halfway around and faced the dirt.

  “Sonza-bitches. Too bad you weren’t around for me to kill you myself.” He peered up. “But this don’t change nothing. Those Black Ghost bastards are disrespecting me, even if they caught these assholes with their cups in the beer barrel. I’m gonna lay hands on ‘em before ’s over.”

  A static burst filtered from the cab. Ruby’s eyes locked with Bradshaw’s.

  Bradshaw leaned in and snatched the CB transmitter.

  “Bradshaw.”

  “Hey, boss. Lucinda Proctor is in jail. Evidently got one of them Black Ghosts in there with her. Thought you’d want to know. Gotta go before they catch me on here.”

  “Good job.”

  Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you might get your chance to lay on hands, sooner than later.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  A PULSE GATLING

  59

  Aw Jesus, not again.

  Bodies were strewn about the road and on the low porches on each side of the street. Lucian dismounted his bike and crossed over to the closest body. The gap in the dead man’s chest revealed the white road beneath.

  God, look at that hole. She used the new plasma grenades. Fuck.

  He paced from corpse to corpse with his ears thumping, peering ahead as he checked each to see if Nina might be counted among the dead. Hope swelled as he paced from one corpse to the next and ticked them off. The sound of banging wood brought his head around.

  “Hey!” It was an old man with a full, gray beard. “Who do you reckon you are?”

  Lucian chuckled at the phrasing.

  “My name is Lucian Gray,” he said. “I’m looking for my friend.”

  “Oh goodie!” he said, wiping his forehead with a grimy wet cloth. “Because we ain’t had nearly enough excitement around here, today!” The old dabbed around his eyes as they ticked up and down Lucian’s frame. “Nice duds, partner. Let me guess, is your friend’s name Nina?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Well, your friend took the rascals’ truck and hauled off to the east. Couldn’t have been twenty minutes ago.” The old man turned and pointed at Lucian’s bike. “I don’t think you’ll have any problem catching her in that, but if you don’t mind, we need to bury her handiwork before more go these troublemakers show up. You with me, son? Best mosey right on.”

  “I’m with you!” Lucian yelled. He ran over and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you!”

  Lucian sped east along the old world, two-lane highway that had, at some point, turned to black powder and mixed with the white gravel. The truck’s left tires leaned into a ditch on the side of the road, the driver’s side door hung wide open. He swerved the bike into the ditch and jogged toward troop carrier from the back.

  The bed was barren, save for a metal storage case welded to the back of the cab.

  When he caught sight of the structure mounted on top of the cab, he tilted his head to one side and gave it his undivided attention. Mounting the bed, he walked to the cab and gazed along the long, wide barrel. A thick disc was attached to the midpoint of the weapon. Four wires attached from the disc to the rod and at the rear, two handles dropped down from a crossbar.

  It’s a pulse Gatling. Must be one of the rigs Horace took in combat with the Triangle Expeditionary Forces.

  He knelt and looked through the back window for signs of Nina.

  Void.

  Jumping from the bed, he walked around and peered inside, as if she’d magically appear.

  “Aw, Moses fucked a snake!” He shouldered the door and slammed his fist into the seat until he’d lost his energy. “Rat whore, son of a wanker!”

  “Um, Lucian?”

  He spun around, mouth wide open, eyelids stretched into disbelief.

  Nina.

  Her arms flew outward as she ran toward him and, though he braced his legs to receive her weight, she launched into the air and threw her legs around his waist with such abandon, that his back slammed into the truck and both collapsed to the ground. Neither let go.

  Lucian ran a hand across her smooth, black hair. “You’re okay,” he whispered into her ear. “Oh man, I was so freaked.”

  “I had to pee.”

  Lucian laughed as they got to their feet.

  Nina ticked her head toward his vehicle. “‘New muffler works. I never heard your bike.”

  After a moment of silence, she grabbed him again and quaked in his arms. Lucian realized that it was the first time he’d ever seen Nina Schafer cry.

  “It’s all good, now. It’s good Nina. I’m here. We’re going home.”

  Nina pulled away, one arm still locked around his waist, the shiny streaks from fallen tears on dusty skin.

  “We have to go get Jenna.”

  Lucian nodded and patted his Tab. “I tracked her beacon.”

  “Awesome,” Nina said. Lucian noted that she’d adopted his favorite utterance. “I’ve been through hell! I got kidnapped by some redneck shit with a crazy daughter!”

  “I met them.”

  “Then these assholes in these fucking trucks! They came to this town and—”

  “I saw them.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed into an expression of confusion. “You’ve been following me? Have you been testing me this whole—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve been tracking you.”

  “Sorry. That was stupid.”

  “You’ve been through a lot.” He grasped her shoulder. “Are those glass cuts on your cheek?” He reached out, but she slapped his hand away.

  “They’ll heal!”

  Lucian jerked back at the outburst.

  Nina clutched his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just fed up. I…I…I’m gonna find the mother fuckers that took our friends and I’m gonna show them what happens! They’re gonna learn a deadly lesson!”

  Lucian stood across from her now and gripped both shoulders.

  “Okay, love. Got ya. We’ll go get Jenna.”

  “You’re god damn right we will!”

  Any fool could see she was manic and bordering on exhausted. Her eyes were bloodshot, the lower lids swollen and puffy. Lucian pulled her back toward him and kissed her cheek, thankful she didn’t resist…or hit him.

  “I’ll throw my bike on the back. I’ll drive so you can rest.”

  He felt her spine relax as she folded herself into his arms. Though her prosthetic was wrenching his spine, Lucian didn’t care.

  Chapter Sixty

  HE’S MY BROTHER

  60

  “Hiya, Moss,” Cage said. He stepped away from the door, revealing light down a long hal
lway that had been all but blocked by his form.

  The chilly night left behind was replaced by the house’s humid warmth, accompanied by the smell of burning wood. Some kind of floral scent filled the air. Moss thought it was jasmine, but couldn’t be sure, as it wasn’t a specialty of his. Though the city outside was the most well-kept place in the territory that Moss had encountered, the immaculate state of the interior surprised him every time. Lucinda Proctor’s place.

  According to Lexi’s text message, the lady of the house wasn’t here. Instead, she was rotting in a jail cell a couple blocks away.

  “Hey, bro.” The unmistakable form of the Amazonian redhead towered over a low sofa in the living area. She eyed Moss and then leaned to look into the hallway.

  “Where’s Sean?”

  Sasha stood behind Shaw, wearing black. Her trench coat and hat were understandably absent from the outfit in the warm interior. An iron wood stove ate up most of the space on one side of the room, its wide exhaust pipe reaching through the ceiling. Moss was surprised to find a large dog standing next to Sasha, wagging its tail.

  What in the bloody hell?

  “Welcome back, chief,” Sasha said.

  “Thanks, Sasha. What’s with the animal?”

  Sasha’s head twitched down toward the dog. “Um.”

  Moss sighed. “Really?”

  Sasha raised her shoulder in a half-shrug and grinned from one side of her lips.

  “Hello? Where is Sean?” Shaw repeated.

  “On his way to OK City. Some of Bingham’s men assaulted us on the highway. The truck Sean was driving ended up plowed into a tree. I tried to get to him, but they surrounded the truck.”

  “What? We have to go get him!” Lexi stepped forward. Moss held up a hand. “They wanted him alive. It’s Bingham.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who it is. I’m going to get my brother!”

  “Lexi,” Sasha said. “Listen first, act second.”

  Shaw spun on the woman next to her. “Don’t tell me—”

  “Shaw!” Moss barked. Shaw jerked. “He’s gone! I have a tracker on him. We’ll know where he is from the moment he hits the city.”

  Shaw glared at Moss, her crystal blue eyes pulsing waves of anger beneath furrowed auburn eyebrows.

  “He’s right,” Sasha said. “Things are escalating here. If we don’t protect Proctor—”

  “I don’t care! He’s my brother!”

  “They were giving him medical attention. I saw it. He walked out of there. He’s alive, and I have every reason to believe he will be until we get eyes on him in OK City. You can’t go and get him by yourself, Lexi. We need a plan. I would go with you, but…”

  “But you deserted, and they’ll have an eye out for you.”

  “Yes.”

  The muscles in Shaw’s jaw worked hard as her eyes flicked from face to face.

  “Tell me we’re going to get him back.”

  “I swear on my life. The Black will stand ready to provide all its resources to get Sean out of Ok City.”

  “Let’s get this operation over with, then.”

  Moss nodded at Sasha. “Report.”

  “Not much change. Proctor was arrested this morning. Jacob allowed himself to be arrested.” Moss nodded. “Cage spent the day watching the jail.”

  Moss looked over his shoulder. “Anything interesting?”

  Cage nodded. “Bradshaw’s in town. Went to see the marshal. They wouldn’t let me inside, so I don’t know what they talked about. But mama is okay, so far. Ella relieved me. She’s watching from across the street.”

  Moss scanned Sasha top to bottom. “Why are you wearing The Black?”

  “I figured we were going to fuck shit up.”

  “Advocate, you are developing quite the way with your words,” Moss said, shooting a glance at Lexi. “Fuck shit up. Right.”

  “It wasn’t like I was leaving the house until you got here, anyway. They wanted to take me with them, but Ella and Cage convinced them otherwise.”

  “Thank you, Cage,” Moss said.

  “Welcome.” Cage crossed into the living room, picked an oversized chair to assault with his mass, and dropped lazily into it, and gazed from face to face. “So, we going to fuck shit up?”

  “I don’t think Lucinda would approve of my dragging you into this.”

  “If that marshal is in cahoots with Sampson, and that’s why my mama is sitting in that jail, I’m already neck deep in it.”

  “Even so…”

  Cage stood with much less effort than Moss would’ve assumed necessary. Towering over Moss, he stomped past him, into the hallway, and stopped at a cracked-open door. A leather belt with a massive holster appeared in his hand, and Cage wrapped it around his waist. As he peered down and fidgeted with the belt, he spoke in a low drone.

  “Sorry. I waited for you to get here because I promised Sasha. They been waiting for their chance to string mama up since she sent Sampson away the second time.”

  “Cage,” Moss said.

  Cage prattled on. “Since he couldn’t leave his own lawkeeper, Sampson bribed ours. My source tells me that woman Sampson travels around with was here recently, meeting with the marshal. I’m good and damned tired of men like this thinking they can make the rules the rest of us have to follow.”

  “Cage.”

  “So, I’m gonna go make some craters and pull mama out of that jail. You can come, or you can stay here. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “You just going to kill anyone who gets in your way?” Moss asked.

  Cage looked up, locked eyes with Moss for a moment, and shook his head. Reaching into the closet again, he extracted a chrome hand cannon of which even Moss couldn’t guess the caliber. It rattled into the leather holster and Cage pushed the door closed with a click.

  “Well?” Sasha asked. “Are you? Are you willing to kill your neighbors to get it done?”

  Cage still didn’t answer, so Sasha approached, set a hand on her hip, and continued.

  “You ever heard of collateral damage? Gun fights are filled with it. No matter how good you think you are, there’s always gonna be someone you didn’t mean to hurt. What happens if Lucinda gets in someone’s way? You ready to deal with that, big guy?” A painted line of white from the overhead light glowed atop her black hair. The contrast in their heights, the short, thick-legged woman glaring expectantly up at the mountain wall of a man, would’ve been comical were it not for the tone with which she communicated. “Just because you deal in weapons and can maybe shoot straight doesn’t mean you can control where someone else’s bullets go.” She slapped his holster, and the big man flinched. “You think a big gun is better?” Cage’s expression seemed less certain, his facial muscles went slack. “You ready for the noise that thing is going to make when you’re indoors? What happens when it makes your ears ring, and you lose your balance?”

  “Those are the most words I’ve heard her speak at once since you left two days ago,” Shaw muttered under her breath.

  “Seems pretty riled up,” Moss whispered, in reply.

  Sasha set her hand on Cage’s chest. “That’s twice today, Cage. First you pull your gun on the marshal’s crew without thinking about the consequences and nearly get us into a gun battle, and now you’re suiting up like I’m gonna let you march down the middle of the road with that ridiculous gun on your hip when the whole town is probably watching this house, waiting for you to do exactly that. Well, you got another think coming.” She held her hand out. Cage’s eyes twitched toward it and then back to the floor. “C’mon.” She jerked her head toward her hand. “Give it.”

  Cage’s head stood so high that Moss could see it in its entirety over Sasha’s head, His eyes flicked over to Moss, who diverted his gaze as he realized everyone was watching the interaction, and it might make the house-sized man self-conscious. Sasha was doing a fine job of that, on her own. The sound of the metal swiping the leather as the thunder cannon unsheathed was followed by the sound of the weapo
n slapping into Sasha’s gloved hand.

  “Thank you. Now let’s go formulate a plan, huh?”

  Cage’s head pumped in a quick nod.

  Cage stomped past and returned to the oversized chair.

  Lexi and Sasha sat at opposite ends of the short sofa and Moss pulled a chair in from the kitchen.

  “We’ve known that Sampson would make a move at some point,” Moss said. “We spent all this time arming the town and preparing for the day he brought his men to the walls, but I guess he chose a more methodical path.” He turned his eyes to the floor and shook his head. “I should’ve known.”

  “How could you?” Shaw asked. “Do you know Sampson very well?”

  “Never laid eyes on him. But my blind expectation of a violent resolution caused me to underestimate him. I know he’s from OK City and the way he’s spun up resource centers and radio towers for communications throughout the MidEast shows he has some logistical intelligence. I should’ve considered the possibility, maybe left more than just Jacob.”

  Sasha shook her head. “Jacob is worth three men. Besides, what would you have done if you’d been here?”

  Moss eyed her.

  Sasha sighed and threw her hands up. “I’m not being a smart-ass boss. I just didn’t know what to do in the moment and am curious what you would’ve done differently. Lucinda was the one who kept it from becoming violent. I might have shot everyone and left it for you to clean up.”

  “I don’t know what I would’ve done, but it doesn’t matter. Now, we need to look forward.”

  “Agreed,” Shaw said. She reached over her shoulder and produced a curved blade from a slot in the back of her combat suit. She ran a finger along the edge, surveying silvery cutting surface. “Time to fight fire with an atom bomb.”

  “I think I have an idea,” Moss said. “But it’s going to take all of us and I’ll need Ella.”

  “Ella?” Shaw asked. “What is she going to do?”

  Cage smiled.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  INTO A SHIT SHOW

  61

  The thunder of boots crossed the tarmac as Jenna and Scruff hunkered down in the back corners of the shelter at the top of the stairs. The tarp-covered boxes weren’t much in the way of cover, and Scruff couldn’t even hide his whole body as what sounded like a full platoon bore down on them.