“Send another hundred men with as many weapons as they can carry. I want them there in a week,” he ordered, his voice strained. “They leave at first light. I want Laredo buttoned down so tight a rat can’t move without us knowing.”
His underlings scurried away to carry out his instructions, but he wasn’t kidding himself. He could see in their eyes the doubt about his abilities and judgment, and he knew that with the Crew seriously weakened from the loss of Magnus’s force, and now the sixty men he’d lost in the Laredo episode, it was just a matter of time before he lost territory to a rival gang. Texas was too large to monitor with limited troops, much less the other states, and between upstarts to the north and east and the Mexicans to the south, he was stretched too thin, and his supply lines, such as they were, were unsustainable.
All because the Illuminati had failed to provide him with the fuel he needed to dominate the southwest. Without that juice he was a sitting duck, and he could feel the noose tightening around his neck with each passing hour.
He debated rousing Barton and delivering an ultimatum, but decided against it at the last moment. Annoying the Illuminati flunky would do no good. He’d speak with him tomorrow in reasoned tones and explain to him that if Snake’s empire fell, it would be viewed as a reflection of the Illuminati’s failure to fulfill their end of the deal – a failure that would make anyone else reluctant to cooperate with them.
Snake’s only hope was that he could get them to see that, like a bank who’d lent their biggest customer too much money and was now watching him teeter on the edge of insolvency, it wasn’t the debtor’s problem now so much as it was the bank’s. If the Crew’s stranglehold on its holdings began to unravel, everything the Illuminati had invested in the southwest would be lost, along with the credibility they needed if they were going to act as a centralizing force.
Whether it would work or not was another story. But it was the only card Snake had to play, so he would play it for all he was worth, and bet that the Illuminati’s self-interest would drive them to back him up when he most needed it.
Otherwise the Crew wasn’t long for this world, and neither was he.
But there was no way he would go down quietly.
Chapter 12
Trading Post, Colorado
Ellen was humming while she cleaned outside Duke’s office as he tallied his inventory. They’d spent the prior evening talking about nothing, and by the time he’d tucked in to bed, all he’d been able to think about were her flashing eyes, easy smile, and jet-black hair. She was an enigma, somewhat guarded about her past, but by the end of the night she’d told him enough to fill in most of the blanks.
She and the sisters had left Denver to get away from the church they’d been a part of, which had turned cultish over the years and no longer appealed to them. Under further probing, she’d admitted that they’d been virtual slaves and had been forced to sneak away in the dead of night with only what they could carry. Apparently the son of the church leader had been a big part of the problem, making advances to many of the single women in the congregation, and what had begun as flirtation had turned into pressure to have sex with him, which they hadn’t been interested in.
Worse, the father had refused to hear any reports about his son’s misbehavior, leaving them feeling like they had no alternative but to leave.
“Everyone’s under his spell, and it’s like neither he nor his son can do any wrong. They were like family to us, so it wasn’t easy,” she’d said. “But it just got to where none of us felt comfortable anymore, and we had to do something.”
“So you left.”
“Exactly. The whole city’s under their control, so you’re either with them or against them. Once our eyes were opened to what the son was after, we decided we couldn’t live there anymore. It’s too bad. There are so many positives to the church…”
“How many are in it?”
“Almost…five thousand? I feel sorry for some of the other girls in the same position we were. I mean, some are fine being the son’s harem, but a lot of them have been pressured into it and just don’t have anywhere to turn.”
“It must have taken a lot of courage to walk away.”
“More like run away. We weren’t sure how they’d react. Some of them are real zealots.”
“You thought they’d hurt you?”
“I would have said no, but now…well, we’d rather not find out.”
Duke looked up from his inventory pad and offered a smile. Ellen returned it and stopped what she was doing. She’d washed her clothes in the river that morning, and her shirt was still damp, and he couldn’t help but notice that she filled it out nicely.
She entered his office and sat down. “Having a productive morning?”
“Just counting beans. How ’bout you?”
“Nothing special. Although it’s nice to be in the same place longer than a few hours.” She sighed. “I thought it would be exciting on the road, but it’s not. I mean, not in a good way.”
“Most people didn’t choose it. Got thrust on them by circumstance. Like with you.”
“Yeah. I just wish we could find somewhere safe, you know? Everywhere we’ve heard about since we left sounds worse than the last.”
Duke nodded. “It’s definitely a dangerous world these days.” He paused. “What are you looking for in a place?”
“I don’t know exactly. We’re all from small towns, so probably something small. Calm. Where everyone gets along and there’s a sense of basic decency.” She nibbled her lower lip. “Sounds like a pipe dream after weeks on the road.”
Duke eyed his hands for a long moment. “What do you want out of life, Ellen? You’re beautiful and intelligent. What are you after?”
She sighed. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
“Try me.”
“I want a family with a good man who values me for who I am. I want to live somewhere safe and raise my kids to be God-fearing, with a husband I can trust, and who only has eyes for me.” Her eyes misted and she sniffed. “Which is crazy in this day and age, where everyone’s a thug out for whatever they can get. In most places, the men are animals.”
“Not everyone.”
“Okay, maybe not, but you have to admit most of them are.” She managed a small smile. “Present company excepted, of course.”
“Don’t you think you’d get bored?”
“Not at all. Like I said, a small town’s all I know. We didn’t move to Denver until everything fell apart. When my parents…when they passed, the church became my family. I think that’s one of the things I really liked about it – being part of it was like what I grew up with, where everyone knew each other.”
“What about your friends? Monica and Tracie?”
“Believe me, we’ve talked about it. We all want the same thing. Struggling to survive every day’s reinforced the value of a stable home.” She looked directly at him and held his gaze. “I think I know a good man when I see one.”
An uncomfortable pause stretched several moments.
“Why a trading post?” she asked. “And why here? It isn’t exactly a high-traffic area.”
“I’ve had a bunch of them. There’s a lot to be said for being off the beaten track. Better bargaining, for starters. And you don’t have to worry about a competitor trying to take you out.” He hesitated. “And you meet some really interesting people.”
“Don’t you get…lonely out here, with just John and Luis?”
“I try not to think about it.”
“I don’t think Luis likes us. What’s his story?”
“He’s a good guy. Just a little high-strung.”
“He looks like a total gangster, with the tattoos.”
“Everyone’s got a story. But he’s always dealt squarely with me. Had to, for me to take him on as a partner.”
Ellen frowned. “If you say so.” She stood. “So what about you? What do you want to be when you grow up? You want a family?”
“With t
he right woman, I’d be the happiest man in the world. But you don’t meet a lot of ladies on the trail.”
Another pause.
Duke cleared his throat. “I best get back to this.”
“Yeah. And the place isn’t going to clean itself.”
That afternoon, Duke approached Ellen as she was brushing her horse beneath the truck stop overhang. “If I knew of a place like you were describing – small, everyone honest and hardworking, family people – would you be interested in going?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”
“No. I…there’s a town you’d really like. It has all the qualities you were talking about. I mean, the winters are brutal and it’s in the middle of nowhere, but they’re quality people looking to create something special.”
She set down the brush and adjusted her shirt, and then closed the distance between them. He drew back a step, and she took his hand and looked deep into Duke’s eyes. “Would you be going with me?”
He resisted the urge to look away or squirm. “Somebody would have to introduce you.”
Ellen nodded once and then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. When he drew back and focused, her smile was dazzling.
Duke exhaled. “Ellen, you’re at least fifteen years younger than–”
She stepped forward and kissed him again, this time longer, her lips warm and moist on his. When they parted, she put her finger on his mouth.
“Don’t talk nonsense. I said I was looking for a good man. You think I’m going to let you go now that I found one?”
Duke swallowed hard. “I’ve got the trading post…”
“How far away is this town?”
“Maybe a day and a half hard ride. I’d have to radio them and let them know we’re coming.”
“We can’t just ride there?”
“They’re pretty protective about their privacy.” He studied her. “Are you sure…”
“Why don’t you let me take a look at it and talk about things on the way? If it’s like you describe, I’m sold.” She smiled again. “You’re not doing this because you’re having second thoughts about hiring us, are you? Trying to get rid of us because Luis doesn’t like us?”
Duke laughed nervously. “I never had a doubt from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She nodded and headed back to her horse. “Good. Me neither.”
Chapter 13
Aberdeen, Washington
Greg strained against the handcuffs that bound him to the steel chair he’d been sitting in for the last hour, his head pounding, his vision blurred. The forced march from where the Chinese patrol had taken them captive had lasted all night, and when he’d come to and found himself being carried by his companions like a sack of rocks, the soldiers had forced him to walk, exhausting him both physically and mentally.
Now, sitting and waiting for the hammer to drop, he was fading in and out of consciousness. His body was crying out for food and water, and his skull ached with every beat of his heart. He had no idea what they had in store for him, but he knew it couldn’t be good. He’d already resolved to cooperate however he could in the hopes that he’d be spared. He’d seen what the troops in Astoria had done to the wounded, and had no doubt that whatever awaited him would be as bad or worse. His one chance was to give the Chinese whatever they wanted. His only problem was he had no idea what that was.
Two men entered, one an officer, judging by his epaulets, and the other of indeterminate rank. The officer growled a few words, and the younger man turned to Greg with hooded eyes.
“What were you doing on the road?” he asked in accented English.
Greg cleared his throat. “Heading to Canada.”
The soldier translated for the officer, who asked something else.
“Where were you coming from?”
Greg debated lying, but chose not to. They were undoubtedly interrogating the others, so lying would do no good.
“Astoria.”
The officer nodded, the name registering without translation. He snapped at the soldier, who focused again on Greg.
“What happened there?”
“The…your troops…they were massacred. To the last man. We had no part of it, which is why we’re on our own,” Greg said, hating the whine he heard in his tone.
“Massacred by who?”
“The townspeople. The people in the tents. There were a lot of men there, and they ganged up to fight your soldiers.”
A brief conversation ensued, with the officer’s words issued at machine-gun clip.
“How could they have beaten a trained force? This makes no sense.”
Greg told him everything he knew about the battle, which was mostly from what he’d seen from the cover of the trees and discussion he’d heard after the fact. When he was done, the two Chinese exchanged a glance and had another exchange.
“What do you know about Portland?” the young man asked.
“It’s radioactive. The river, Astoria, all of it. Toxic. The nuclear reactor upriver must be melting down. Portland’s gone.”
“If this is true, where are the people from Astoria? Staying by the poison river?”
“No. They moved down the coast – to Newport. Hundreds of them.”
“Then who fought in Astoria?”
“They sent their best fighters.”
“What were you going to do when you reached Canada?”
“Try to find a way to survive,” Greg answered honestly.
The men left, and Greg nodded off, overcome by the fatigue and stress.
A slap brought him back to consciousness. He found himself looking again at the interrogator and the officer, now with another, older officer beside him.
“Tell us what you know about Newport. And about these fighters. Leave nothing out.”
A half hour later, the session was over. A pair of soldiers appeared at the door, unfastened the bracket that held his cuffs to the chair, and unceremoniously lifted Greg and walked him out of the room. They led him down the hall to a courtyard, and he froze in his tracks when he saw the bodies of his companions littering the area.
The bayonet stabbed through his back with an icy lance of pain so severe it stopped his breath in his throat. His mind fought for words that would stop the unthinkable from happening, some protest that would convince them that he’d cooperated, been useful, done everything they’d asked without any coercion, and then his heart throbbed its final beat, and he realized it was too late, he was dying, and his time on earth had run out.
Chapter 14
Tango shook his head like he was disagreeing, and Lucas eyed the trail ahead of him. The ragtag army Lucas was leading had armed itself with the contents of the mountain cache, and the group was now over seven hundred strong and reasonably outfitted, if largely unskilled. Behind him the men shuffled on foot and on horseback in a column a quarter mile long, those who were walking slowing the group’s progress to just over twenty miles a day.
“What is it, Tango?” he whispered.
Three men stepped onto the track in front of Lucas. He reined to a stop, and Bill and Sam, riding beside him, raised their rifles to cover the men.
“We wanna join up,” one of them blurted.
Lucas studied the three – they were younger than he’d first thought, with faces coated in grime and in need of a good scrubbing. Maybe mid to late teens, but hardened by circumstance, their cheekbones jutting beneath their skin and their cheeks hollow from malnutrition, but their weapons were clean and in good shape.
“Join what?” Bill fired back.
“Whatever this is,” the youth said. “We want in.”
“You reckon it’s smart to join something when you don’t even know what it is?” Lucas asked.
“We can fight. But we’re hungry. Give us some food and we’ll do whatever you want.”
“You family?” Sam asked.
“That’s right. Brothers. I’m Reese, and this is Mark and Tim.”
“How old are you?” Bil
l asked.
Reese straightened, and his eyes darted from Lucas to Bill and back again. “I’m seventeen. Mark’s fifteen, and Tim’s…fourteen.”
Lucas sighed and looked to Sam. “Give ’em some provisions. Maybe they can help load magazines. But Mark and Tim are too young for anything else.”
Mark bristled. “I’ve killed three men. I can handle myself just fine.”
Lucas frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Heavy burden for a young man.”
Mark’s face registered confusion, and Bill stepped into the silence. “Go on back to the carts and tell Carl that Bill and Sam said you’re part of the group. When you’ve eaten, find Henry or Art, and they’ll tell you what to do.”
“Where are we headed?” Reese asked.
“You’ll find out in time.”
“We went to Salem a while back. It’s scary bad there. Don’t go to Portland, either. Everyone’s gone.”
“You been there?” Lucas asked.
“Um…no. But we met some folks on the road who told us.”
“How long ago?”
“Couple of weeks.”
“This some kinda army or something?” Tim asked. “You got ranks and stuff?”
“Sort of,” Sam answered. “It’s a militia, if you want to get technical.”
“That’s like an army, right?”
“In a way.”
“Who’re we fixing to fight?”
Lucas sighed. “Anyone in our way. Now go on. Get some food and save your questions for Art. They call him the general. He’s got a bum arm, and he’s old enough to be your grandad. Ask him what we’re doing. He’ll set you straight.”
Reese brightened. “Is he really a general?”
“Ask him. Now git.”
The boys trotted down the column. Lucas and Sam exchanged a look, and Lucas smiled sadly. “Poor bastards.”
Bill shrugged. “There’s no time to be a child anymore. Got to grow up fast or you don’t make it.”
The Day After Never (Book 7): Havoc Page 7