The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) (10 page)

“You drive a hard bargain. You been getting lessons from Duke?”

“Promise,” she insisted.

“Okay. I promise I’ll keep Sierra safe and that we’ll come back. And I’ll do the same for Tango and Nugget. Throw them in for no extra charge. Satisfied?”

Eve visibly relaxed. “Okay.”

“Behave yourself with Ruby, you hear? I don’t want any reports of misbehavior,” he warned.

“I’m always good,” Eve said.

“I suppose you are. But I had to say it.”

Ruby emerged from her front door and seemed to float toward them through the fog. “I thought I heard a ruckus out here. Why, look at how pretty you are this morning, Eve! I swear you get bigger every day. And thank you for bringing Ellie.”

Sierra gave Ruby a kiss on the cheek in farewell. “Take good care of her,” she whispered to the older woman.

“I intend to spoil her relentlessly. You won’t recognize her when you get back.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Lucas said, handing Sierra Nugget’s reins.

Ruby looked him up and down. “It’s time?”

“That it is.”

“Good luck.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about her. Terry and I will see that she gets three squares and proper beatings.”

Eve’s eyes widened, and Ruby smiled. “I’m kidding.”

The others were waiting by the conference center. Their saddlebags had already been packed with the vaccine, which was secured in polystyrene containers Elliot had filched from a Chinese restaurant in town to insulate the contents from drastic temperature variations. Arnold nodded a curt greeting to them, and Colt grunted a monosyllable. George and John filled out their group; both were already astride their horses, obviously anxious to hit the road.

Elliot emerged from the building and greeted them. “Good morning, lady and gentleman.”

“Morning,” Lucas allowed. Sierra nodded.

“I’ve already briefed the others, so they can fill you in on the trail.”

“There’ll be more than enough time.”

“Short version is you’re confirmed to rendezvous at a compound ten miles outside of Tulsa, where my associate Reynolds has a facility ready for vaccine production. Lower tech than we are, but the method of duplication is relatively straightforward now that we’ve got it right.”

“We just drop it off, and that’s it?” Sierra asked.

Elliot nodded. “That’s correct. They’ll take it from there.”

“And then we’re free to go?” Lucas asked, more a statement than a question.

“Yes. Do whatever you need to do.” Lucas had told Elliot that he’d be continuing south with Sierra once they’d fulfilled their obligation, and Elliot hadn’t raised any objection. “May God go with you all.”

Lucas climbed into the saddle after giving Sierra a leg up, and Arnold and Colt took the lead, the fog shrouding them so that they disappeared from view barely twenty yards along the road out of town.

Michael exited the building and walked to where Elliot stood staring at the blanket of white. “That the last group?” the younger man asked.

“Yes. Arnold and company.”

“Then it’s all in motion. Congratulations. Years in the making and finally coming to fruition.”

“At a steep price,” Elliot reminded him.

“True, but one that had to be paid for the country to survive. You were absolutely right when you said that if we’re ever going to rebuild, we need to take the lead in solving the big problems so people stop acting like savages.”

Elliot managed a faint smile. “That was a long time ago. You have a better memory than I.”

“You also said that it’s not what you accomplish that defines you, it’s what you’re willing to try to do – the difference you attempt to make in the lives of those around you. Yes, I remember that speech well. Some things stay with you.”

Elliot nodded. “We’ve built a strong community, but it’s underpopulated now. That’s the next problem we need to address. Too many of our best didn’t make it, and we need more like-minded folks.”

“True. We could go into Santa Fe again and try to recruit.”

The older man shook his head. “Too dangerous. When the Crew comes looking for us, that’s one of the first stops they’ll make. No, I have something else in mind. Something subtler.”

“Such as?”

“I’m thinking that we may be able to coerce Duke into coming out of his recent retirement and starting up a trading post a reasonable distance away, at a crossroads that sees some traffic – but not too much. He can act as a qualifying filter for us and direct promising candidates our way.”

“Anyplace specific in mind?”

“I believe Alamosa’s a couple of days’ ride.”

Michael frowned. “More like three.”

Elliot shrugged. “Details.”

“Duke’s set for life. Why would he go back to trading?”

“To help. Boredom. Because he likes the challenge. All or none of those. We won’t know until we ask, will we?”

“When would you be thinking of establishing this outpost?”

“Soon, actually. Most certainly before the weather gets bad. He won’t see much traffic anywhere around there once the snow comes to stay.”

Michael nodded slowly. “It could work. But it would take a long time to get our numbers back up. That’s not a main artery.”

“We’re not after speed. We’re after quality.”

“And the Crew?”

Elliot looked away. “They’ll do whatever they do. We’re largely out of the equation now, I’d think, as long as we stay out of their way. The vaccine’s been deployed, so we won that battle.”

“Not until it’s in widespread distribution,” Michael reminded him.

“Which it will be soon enough.” Elliot paused. “Assuming all goes well.”

“What was it you were so fond of saying? Hope for the best but prepare for the worst?”

That drew a smile from the older man. “Hoisted with my own petard, eh? Going to use my words against me?”

Michael matched the smile. “You had a valid point.”

“Well, it’s too late for second-guessing now, isn’t it? The teams are on the road, and what’s done is done. So we’ll take what we have and make a stew. Hopefully it will get us through the winter, and by spring everything will be clearer. Arnold’s defenses seem thorough, so as long as we maintain discipline, we should be fine. And soon the weather will be our ally – nobody will be traveling secondary roads in blizzard conditions.”

As if to underscore Elliot’s statement, a low rumble of thunder shook the ground and the sky darkened.

“Looks like it’ll start pouring shortly,” Michael said.

“Then back in we go. We can continue our discussion under cover. No point catching our death.”

Chapter 15

Snake looked up from his meal with tired eyes. The head of his Houston security team entered the dining room, which was empty save for Snake, his guards ensuring that he wasn’t disturbed. Snake scowled at the man and forked another chunk of ham into his mouth.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“There’s a ship entering the harbor. Looks like a naval vessel.”

Snake rose, nearly upending the table. “What?”

The man nodded. “It showed up twenty minutes ago. Got the call on my two-way just now from the outpost by the port.”

“But…how?” Snake blurted, his hands twitching as he tried to process the impossible news. There was no Navy any longer. No ships. No way of powering them or of manning a crew. The security head might as well have announced that extraterrestrials had landed in the main plaza and demanded to be shown to the Earth’s leader.

“I don’t know. It’s looking like it’s going to dock.”

“And there’s no sign of who it is?”

The man shook his head. “No.” He paused. “What do you want to do?”

“Get gunmen down there now. Heavily armed. The more the better.” Snake cocked his head. “Alert my guards that we’re going to the port.”

The security head nodded. “Will do. When?”

“Five minutes. I want to see this for myself.”

The security chief left, and Snake paced for a few minutes before returning to the table and staring at his half-eaten meal. What did the appearance of a functioning naval ship mean? Obviously that whoever was operating it had access to fuel, which was surprising in and of itself – Magnus had been convinced that all the diesel had gone bad by now and had heard of no working refineries. But the presence of a vessel was proof that, like the assumption that it would be child’s play to overthrow Shangri-La, Magnus had been more than mistaken.

More ominous was that Snake’s tenuous hold on power might be in jeopardy. If the military was operational again and was beginning to restore order in the country…

He cursed under his breath and then stopped the panic that threatened to overtake him. He’d received no reports of the authorities reasserting themselves from the far reaches of his empire, which he certainly would have if there were a regional move to regain control. So this was probably something else. The first step in taking Houston back?

“Over my dead body,” Snake growled. He hadn’t connived and killed to get to the top of the heap only to have his power stripped from him, boat or no boat. If that was their plan, they’d find it harder to do than they’d ever imagined.

Snake stopped himself mid-thought.

He didn’t have enough information to formulate a strategy, and he was making dangerous assumptions. For all he knew, whoever was on the boat had no idea the Crew ran Houston or what the gang’s capabilities were.

Snake didn’t even know who was on it.

But he would find out soon enough.

He was tempted to smoke a hit of meth to steady himself, but resisted the urge. He needed a clear head, at least for now. He speared another chunk of ham and popped it into his mouth, but it tasted like wood, and he grimaced and spit it back onto the plate, disgusted. A large swallow of his drink flushed the tang from his mouth and he crossed to the door, checking the Desert Eagle .45 on his hip and his dagger in its belt scabbard as though they were lucky talismans instead of weapons.

The ride to the port took seemingly forever. Snake and his guard detail galloped through the streets of Houston as fast as they could manage, and their horses were almost blown out by the time they reached the waterfront, where the unmistakable rumble of massive engines echoed across the port. At least three hundred Crew fighters had taken up defensive positions, big .50-caliber Browning machine guns pointed at the slate gray vessel that was now docked parallel to the concrete jetty, its artillery turrets radiating menace. A plume of smoke rose from its stack, but there was no one to be seen on its decks. Beyond the ship, the cranes and superstructures of sunken freighters that had been submerged after the collapse broke the surface of the water, a reminder of the anomaly that was an operational naval vessel.

Snake’s security chief had a hurried discussion with his subordinate and then came to meet Snake, whose eyes were glued to the boat.

“We received a radio transmission twenty minutes ago from the captain of the vessel,” he began.

“And?”

“He asked to meet with you. By name.”

Snake absorbed that. “Who is he?”

“He didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I wasn’t here to ask – I was with you. My lieutenant over there fielded the call.” The chief swallowed, anticipating an outburst. “He just relayed the message.”

Snake surprised him by remaining calm. “What channel did they use?”

“Seventeen.”

“Hail them, and let’s find out what’s going on.”

The chief nodded and went for a handheld radio. When he returned, he pressed the transmit button and spoke into the microphone. He finished and waited. Moments later, the radio crackled and a neutral voice answered.

“Yes? Over.”

“Who is this? Over.”

“The captain of the vessel at the dock. Over.”

“Right. But who are you? Over.”

A pause. “I represent a collective that has business with your new leader. Is he there yet? Over.”

Snake snatched the radio from the chief’s hand. “This is Snake. What do you want? Over.”

Another pause, this one longer. A different voice emanated from the two-way. “My name is Lassiter. We had an arrangement with Magnus. I understand you’re now in charge. It’s imperative that we meet with you. Over.”

“Who’s we?” Snake snapped, and then remembered to finish the transmission and release the button. “Over.”

“Would you like to come aboard and have a tour of the boat? I can assure you it will be worth your time. I prefer not to discuss confidential business over the open airwaves. Over.”

The security chief exchanged a glance with Snake, who had just been blindsided. If he refused to go aboard, he would look like a coward and lose face with his men, many of whom in the vicinity had heard the exchange. If he did board, and it was a trap, he could be killed, and the force on the boat could dictate terms to the leaderless Crew. Snake bit his lower lip as he considered his options and then raised the radio to his lips.

“Show yourself, and I’ll meet you at the gangplank. Over.”

“Perfect. Over.”

Snake turned to his chief. “If I go for my pistol or if they try anything with me, hit them with everything you have. Put a sniper with a Barrett on whoever shows himself, and take him out at the first sign of trouble.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“They came all the way here to see me. I’m curious who they are and what they want.”

“It could be a setup.”

“Look at those guns. If they wanted to blow us to pieces, they could. Doesn’t sound like it, does it?”

“Let me go with you.”

“Fine.”

Snake pushed past the line of armed Crew fighters and made his way along the jetty, the chief behind him with his Kalashnikov at the ready, as though the 7.62mm rounds would do anything but bounce off the warship’s thick steel armor like hail off a sidewalk. When he reached the gangplank, he squinted against the sunlight. At the top of the ramp, a solitary figure in a lightweight blue suit stepped onto the gangplank and began the long trip down to the dock.

“I don’t like this,” the chief whispered from behind Snake.

“He looks like he’s unarmed. Back off.”

The chief stood his ground, about to protest, and Snake raised his hand halfway while keeping his eyes on the approaching figure. “I said back off. That’s an order.”