The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) (27 page)

Lucas shook his head. “I can’t help you.”

Zach’s face softened. “They’ll kill the boy, you know. In front of you. Filet him and make you eat his heart while it’s still beating.”

Lucas shrugged. “Haven’t had a hot meal for a while.”

Zach smiled again. “Here’s the alternative. Help me and you’ll go free. So will Sierra. She’ll be reunited with her son, and bygones will be bygones. We’ll remove you from Crew custody and transport you to our closest enclave. It’s safe, has water, food, power, fuel – everything you could wish for. You’ll be given a large property, free and clear. Wealth beyond your wildest dreams.” Zach eyed him. “Women. Girls, if you like. Or boys. Doesn’t matter. You’ll live like a god.”

“And if I don’t?”

“The boy will die in front of you, and then they’ll cut you to pieces after they’ve abused you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Zach straightened and moved to the door. “Think about it. I’ll be back shortly, and when I return, your decision will determine the rest of your time on earth.” Zach wet his lips. “I can’t even begin to explain how horribly they’ll violate little Tim before they kill him. So if you’re thinking you’ll tough it out, trust me when I say there’s nothing on earth quite like what they’ll do to him while you watch. They’re sadistic butchers, and they live for this. Which you look like you know.”

Zach swung the metal slab wide and exited the cell, leaving Lucas to stare at his back before a guard slammed it shut and bolted it. Their footsteps receded down the hall, and Lucas closed his eyes again, his mind roiling.

~ ~ ~

“Well?” Whitely demanded upon Zach’s return.

“I don’t think he bought it.”

“That’s a problem.”

“Yes. I realize that.”

“So what next? The boy?”

“I’m not sure killing him in front of our friend will accomplish anything. I recognize his type. He’s seen too much.”

“Then we torture him until he talks.”

Zach shook his head. “He won’t.”

“They all do.”

“Oh, he’ll talk, but you won’t know what’s true and what isn’t. He’ll mix truth and lies together, his ultimate revenge to leave us with nothing we can use. You can see it in his eyes. He’s already resigned to dying, and he honestly doesn’t fear it.”

“Snake will have us both executed if we fail.”

Zach frowned. “I’m not sure he’ll do that. But I agree he’ll want a scapegoat, and you’re probably it.”

Whitely paced, his brow furrowed, and then stopped abruptly, a look of wonder on his face. “There’s another way.”

“Which is?”

“We let him go, and he leads us to the woman – or even better, to wherever this Elliot is hiding.”

“Just like that? Are you mad?”

“Hear me out. I know all about the operation in Lubbock where Sierra was captive. I can tell him that I’m part of the rebel faction, working against the Crew for the good of humanity, and in charge of security here. If it’s rushed enough, he won’t have time to question it. I can show up with the boy, hand him back his weapons, and guide him to an exit – where you can be waiting to pick up his trail.”

“You don’t think he’ll see through the deception?”

“He took a blow to the head. Plus the alternative is being tortured and killed. My story is entirely non-disprovable. Under the circumstances, it’s a lifeline anyone would grab.”

Zach nodded. “You’ll need something to convince him, something you would do if you were genuine, or he’ll smell a rat.”

“I’ll have to kill a guard outside the cell. That would do it.”

Zach snapped his fingers. “No, wait. He shot two guards, didn’t he? One in the chest. We’ll drag that one in, throw a new shirt on him, and you can cut his throat.”

“He might be stiffening up by now.”

“Won’t matter. The hall’s fairly dark.”

“We’ll need some blood. Smear it all over him for effect.”

Zach nodded again. “We’ll slaughter a hog.”

“It has to be soon. I’ll go get the boy and the weapons; you handle the body. But for God’s sake, be quiet, or he’ll hear you getting it into position. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“The boy can’t see you.”

“You can leave him by the north gate – tell him not to move. He’s conditioned to obey. He’ll stay put.”

“If he doesn’t, it all falls apart.”

It was Zach’s turn to pace. Halfway across the room, he spun to face Whitely.

“Tie his arms and legs, then. I don’t care. You have fifteen minutes.”

Chapter 41

From his hiding place down the road, Sal pointed Arnold’s 9mm Heckler & Koch pistol at the geothermal plant. The interior of the building glowed with torchlight, and smoke drifted from the open windows along with steam from the hot springs. Darkness had fallen two hours before, and Sal had agreed to rendezvous with Arnold’s party at an abandoned home nearby. He’d reappeared on time, and Arnold had introduced him to the others and given him the pistol, showing him the safety and quizzing him to verify he wouldn’t shoot his foot off.

“They never sleep. I mean, not all at once. There’s always a couple of them that stay up,” Sal said.

“Think the rest might be asleep by now?”

“No way of knowing. Some nights they’re out after they eat, others they’re all up half the night.”

“Would they freak out if you knocked on the door?”

“I’ve never done that.”

“Can you think of some reason to draw them out? Maybe a problem with one of your sisters?” Arnold asked.

Sal’s face clouded. “They couldn’t care less.”

Arnold sighed. “Then we do this the hard way.” He turned to Duke and Aaron. “We’ll sneak in through the back door. Sal, you and Craig take cover out front. Any of them come through that door, let them have it.”

Sal nodded, and Craig grunted assent.

They’d discussed a frontal assault but had discarded the idea – too many of the scavengers slept well away from that area. The rear entrance made the most sense, although it involved more risk. If the cold from the outside alerted anyone, they’d be in a drawn-out gun battle, and that didn’t work in their favor, given the two-to-one odds.

Arnold led the pair of traders around the building, sticking to the trees in case anyone was paying attention inside. When they reached the back, Arnold nodded to Duke and tried the doorknob.

It turned soundlessly, and he switched his AR-15 to burst mode, took a deep breath, and cracked the door open just wide enough to slip through.

Aaron followed him in, and Duke brought up the rear. They found themselves in a small utility room, as Sal had described. Reassured the young man hadn’t led them astray, they crossed the room with cautious steps, and Arnold pointed to the door that opened onto the main pump area, where the scavengers slept on bedrolls, warmed by the steam from the hot springs.

“Ready to do this?” Arnold whispered.

Aaron nodded, his expression determined, and Duke did the same.

“I’ll open the door. Aaron, you go in low and move right. Duke, I’ll go next, and you cover us from here. The wall should stop any rounds. Fire when you acquire targets.”

“Be careful not to shoot us in the back,” Aaron said.

“Don’t put ideas in my head,” Duke whispered.

Arnold reached for the lever and Aaron got into position, ready to enter the room in a crouch. Arnold closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then twisted the handle and pushed the door wide.

A jumble of metal pipes rose from the floor and twisted to one of the walls, and Aaron crept into the room, leading with his rifle. Arnold was halfway through the door when a warning cry sounded from the far side of the space, and then the still of the night exploded with shots as Arnold and Aaron engaged.

The sleeping men scrambled for their weapons while Arnold’s first two bursts slammed into the shooter by the front door who’d fired at them, knocking him against the wall and shattering the ceramic plate in his flak jacket. He slid down the wall, leaving a red streak, his eyes wide in shock. Aaron blasted at his companion, who’d thrown himself to the ground in order to make a more difficult target, but his rounds missed and ricocheted off the cement floor, spraying chunks of concrete into the air as they whined past the gunman.

Three of the other scavengers opened up with their weapons, and Duke’s rifle barked three-round bursts from the doorway. One caught a crouching shooter in the upper chest and throat, blowing him backward. Aaron cried out in pain from Duke’s right, and Duke stitched three bursts into the shooter Aaron had been trying to hit.

Arnold darted behind the pipes and ducked around to unleash a barrage of fire at the scavengers. His rounds found home more often than not, cutting the legs from under one gunman and shredding through the torso of another. Slugs pinged off the pipes and snapped past his head, and he emptied his magazine into the remaining men, who’d taken cover using the bodies of the fallen to block his fire.

He ejected the magazine and slapped another into place as Duke continued drilling the scavengers whenever one showed himself in the gloom, and Arnold heard the breech of the trader’s AR-15 lock open as he ran out of rounds. Two of the scavengers took the opportunity during the lull to make for the front entrance and rushed through the door, only to be shot to pieces by Craig and Sal when they emerged.

Duke and Arnold mopped up the remaining scavengers in thirty more seconds, and then the shooting stopped, all the scavengers neutralized. Arnold rose from his position behind the snarl of pipes and slowly walked into the main area. The floor was slick with bright red blood. One of the scavengers moaned and reached for his dropped weapon with a trembling hand, and Arnold finished him with a burst to the head.

Arnold moved from body to body, confirming that each was dead, and was at the last corpse when Duke’s voice hissed from across the room.

“Aaron’s hit bad.”

“Damn,” Arnold said, his face grim. He turned and made for Duke, who was kneeling beside Aaron. The younger man’s flak jacket was soaked crimson, and Aaron gasped for air as blood pooled beneath him. At least two rounds had penetrated his body armor…and his lungs.

Aaron grabbed Duke’s hand, clutched it weakly, and tried to raise his head. Duke inched closer. “No. Don’t try to move.”

“This…this is…it…” Aaron managed, and then let out a long groan and shuddered before lying still, pinpoint pupils locked on the ceiling as though it hid a secret only he could see.

Duke’s shoulders heaved and he reached forward to close his friend’s eyes. Arnold left him to his grief and walked to the front entrance to let Craig and Sal know it was all clear.

“Don’t shoot. It’s over. They’re dead,” he yelled through the door, and then stepped back, knowing that nerves could do strange things in battle and not wanting to get hit by inadvertent friendly fire.

Craig entered first and Sal trailed him in, pistol pointed at the ground. Arnold held out his hand for the weapon, and Sal nodded numbly and gave it to him before approaching one of the dead and spitting on his face.

“His name was Zeke. He…my youngest sister will be glad he’s dead.”

“No loss to the world that any of them is gone, sounds like,” Arnold said.

“No.”

“Aaron!” Craig exclaimed when he saw Duke by Aaron’s body and rushed to him. Duke looked up with red eyes and shook his head.

“He didn’t make it.”

“Oh…God, Duke. I’m sorry.”

Duke didn’t answer and, after a long pause, pushed himself to his feet and turned to Arnold. “Let’s get what we’re after and get out.”

“You can stay with us for the night, if you want,” Sal offered. “There’s a house next door that’s still got its roof. Might not be too bad if you start a fire.”

Arnold nodded. “Thanks, that’s mighty kind of you, but we’re not going to want to spend any more time here than we have to.” He looked to Duke. “We’ll bury Aaron in the morning before we leave.”

Duke shook his head. “No. I’ll do it now. No reason he should lie out all night. You don’t need me anymore. Craig can get his precious parts and I’ll take care of it.” Duke made for the back door.

“Where are you going?” Arnold asked.

“To get a shovel.”

“Ground’s hard as brick,” Sal said.

“I need the exercise.”

Sal nodded. “I’ve got a pick. I’ll help.”

The men left Craig and Arnold to scrounge for the pumps Craig needed, and returned shortly to haul Aaron outside. It took the engineer a half hour to remove the pumps and seals, and he carried them to his horse. The snow flurry had ended, but the air pricked his skin like needles. Arnold joined him and gestured to where Sal and Duke were finishing up Aaron’s grave. They walked over and Duke said a prayer, choking on the last words and barely managing an amen.

They hung their heads in silence for several moments, and then Arnold looked to Sal. “Where’s your place?”

“On the edge of town.”

He led them a few hundred yards from the plant to a cracker-box home that appeared to be barely standing. A young woman with a frightened face peered out from inside; when she saw Sal, she burst from the doorway and ran to hug him.

“You’re okay!” she said, and then stared fearfully at the strangers.

“I am. And they’re history,” Sal said. “These are the men I told you about. Duke, Arnold, Craig, this is Liza, my oldest sister.” Two more faces peeked from the doorway. “That’s Cody, and the youngest there is Cas.”

Arnold touched Sal’s arm, and Liza released her brother. Arnold led him a few feet away and spoke in a low voice. “We have a nice setup where we are. Power. Water. Well defended. If you’re of a mind, you and your sisters are welcome to join us.”

“We…that’s a hell of an offer,” Sal said, and then frowned. “But we don’t have any horses.”

“Don’t the scavengers?”

“Oh. Right. Sure they do.”

“Then they’re yours now. So are their weapons and ammo. That should give you a good start on a new life – you’ll have something to trade for anything you need.”

“I have to talk to my sisters, but they’ll do whatever I decide,” he said. “How far is it?”

“Four days’ ride.”

“And you’re sure it’s safe?” Sal gestured at the plant. “Nobody like that bunch there?”