The Day After Never - Blood Honor (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller) (11 page)

“Duke has a second-generation monocle. Uses a rechargeable battery like mine.”

Carl frowned. “I wouldn’t do business with that bandit.”

“That wasn’t what I was suggesting. I’m just pointing out they’re available. Don’t assume anything about what any hostiles might or might not have.”

“We have to do something, Lucas.”

Lucas rubbed a tired hand across his beard stubble, fatigue darkening the area below his eyes. “You want that on your headstone?”

“You were a lawman once, Lucas. I’m surprised at your attitude.”

“That was a different life, Carl. No such job anymore,” Lucas said, a rebuff to Carl’s insinuation. Carl was a good man, but he’d been a National Guard reservist before the collapse, not a cop – he’d actually worked at a nearby shipping company and had volunteered to keep the peace when it had become obvious that things were going to stay bad for the duration, and Lucas had said no to the job.

“There’s still common decency.”

Lucas nodded and made for the door. “That there is. But you have to be alive to have it. I aim to stay that way a little longer.” He paused at the threshold. “If you’re in a rush to get to the pearly gates, that’s your business. Don’t try to drag me into it.”

Carl watched Lucas leave and shook his head in silent disapproval, the doctor by his side. The cat poked its head up to look through the window at them before disappearing again, its late afternoon nap postponed until the house was quieter.

Chapter 13

Darkness had fallen by the time Lucas made it back to the ranch. He unlocked the gate to Bear’s joyous barking and walked the horse to the barn. Hal sat on the porch, watching him, his lever-action Winchester propped up against the house beside him. When Lucas made his way to the house, the older man took a sip from a half-filled glass.

“I fed and watered Tango,” Hal said by way of greeting.

“Thanks, Hal. He deserves some pampering.”

“How’d it go?”

“She’ll make it.”

“I’ve seen you happier.”

Lucas shook his head. “Damn fools plan to ride tonight.” He gave Hal a rundown on his meeting with the woman. When Lucas was finished, Hal didn’t say anything, just took another appreciative sip of his drink.

Lucas sniffed. “White lightning?”

“You got a problem, Lucas?”

Lucas took the wood chair next to Hal and turned it slightly so he could face his grandfather. He set his weapons beside him, and Bear pushed his head into Lucas’s lap. Lucas scratched him to tail wagging and a low growl of pleasure. After several moments, Lucas patted the dog’s head and eyed Hal, who appeared to be enjoying the evening without a care in the world.

“You think I did the right thing? I keep thinking about that old Indian saying about saving a life creating an obligation. I don’t want that. Slate’s clean, far as I’m concerned.”

“Man’s got to do what his conscience tells him. You’re right about it being a lousy idea to ride at night, especially when you’re worn out.”

“What would you have done?”

Hal laughed. “Nobody’s asking old men to ride off into the sunset, boy. Glad I don’t have to make that decision.”

“Which means you would go.”

“It means never walk in another man’s shoes. You did what was right for you. End it there.” Hal set the glass down. “How old you say the little girl was again?”

“Five.”

Hal sat wordlessly for a few moments as the last of twilight faded behind the hills. “That’s a tough one, sure enough.”

“I almost said yes. But it’s a fool’s errand.”

“Got to live with your choices.”

“I know this is the right one.”

Hal eyed him. “Don’t sound sure.”

“I’m going to clean up.”

“Got rabbit stew on the stove.”

“Battery bank charged up?”

“So far, so good.”

“You know that won’t last forever,” Lucas said, rising and collecting his weapons. The solar batteries were eight years old. If they got another two out of them, they’d be lucky. After that, they’d be running dark at night and on rainy days, the solar panels only providing electricity real time during daylight.

Hal toasted Lucas. “Neither will I.”

“Don’t talk that way. You’ll live to a hundred.”

“Never had much interest in doing so.”

“Nobody’s asking.”

Lucas entered the house and switched on one of the LED lamps, and then stowed his Remington 700 in the gun safe and toted his M4 to his room. All of the window shutters were closed to avoid any light leaking from the house – a sensible, routine step Hal took every night. They’d never been attacked, but there was always a first time; and by now, living with the expectation of imminent danger was second nature. Hal’s time in the Marines had served him well for the current challenges, and the old man had never forgotten the harsh lessons combat had taught.

Lucas learned quickly, coached as he’d been by Hal as a teen, and the pair worked efficiently together, Lucas deferring to his grandfather in tactical matters involving the ranch’s defense. Fortunately, they usually saw eye to eye and were as prepared as anyone to repulse threats. Preparation being the key – even as a youngster, Hal had drilled self-sufficiency and the importance of readying one’s self for the worst through Lucas’s head, and the discipline instilled in him as a boy had served him well as an adult.

Not that anyone could have been fully prepared for the super flu and collapse of civilization. Lucas had been fortunate to have Hal’s ranch to bug out to when it all crumbled. If not, he probably would have survived, as Duke had, but it wouldn’t have been as comfortable. With power, well water, and a garden, they were well set, and the cattle and horses were icing.

Sierra’s description of Dallas returned to him as he moved to the kitchen, taking in the mouth-watering aroma of stew. He couldn’t imagine an existence in one of the cities. The few travelers that made it as far as Loving invariably described a living nightmare, where the most vicious ruled over the less aggressive like feudal warlords. Sierra’s accusing eyes floated through his memory and he shook off the vision, busying himself with preparing the meal for Hal and himself. Bear would finish anything they didn’t, and truth be told, ate as well as any of them – certainly better than most of the unfortunates who weren’t members of tight-knit communities like the town.

Occasional stories of California had chilled him from groups migrating east. Los Angeles, with its population density and lack of resources, had quickly turned into a war zone, with the population caught in the crossfire as warring factions battled it out, killing anything in their path. San Francisco had fared little better, the story the same in every instance: the lion’s share of the population had believed that their government would protect them. The discovery of their error had proved terminal.

He tried not to think of a little girl lost in the wilds, strange night sounds all around as her water ran dry, her stomach growling from hunger, every moment possibly her last – tried but failed, as the image insisted on dominating his thoughts.

Why was he fixating on this? It was unlike him. He evaluated situations, made a determination based on all criteria, and then took action and moved on. Second-guessing and mulling over doubts was a sure recipe for failure, he knew from harsh experience, so why was he doing it now?

“You okay?” Hal asked from the doorway.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like somebody pissed in your Wheaties.”

“No such thing anymore.”

Hal shrugged. “Hope you’ve got an appetite, or that freeloader will get it all,” he said, glancing at Bear lounging on the floor, drooling in anticipation of the meal to come. Hal closed the front door and bolted it, and then moved to a bank of blinking controls and checked them. They had prepared for a night attack by booby-trapping the grounds immediately outside of the perimeter, between the main wall trench and a shallower one fifteen feet beyond it to keep animals from wandering into one of the traps or the trip wires. Lucas had improved on the system over the years, trading moonshine for the motion detectors and wire that used little power and added an additional sense of security to a perilous situation. Trip alarms in the house provided just one more safeguard. In spite of all the precautions, he and Hal kept shifts at night, five hours apiece, and took a few hours during the heat of the day for naps. They’d grown conditioned to the routine and neither questioned it, although Lucas secretly wondered how much longer Hal would remain active enough to pull the long hours. He required less sleep than Lucas, but the years couldn’t be denied, and Lucas knew better than to expect him to be a fully functional partner indefinitely.

“Bear deserves anything he can get,” Lucas chided. The dog spent nights outdoors, another early warning system should anyone be foolhardy enough to want to take on the ranch.

“He eats more than both of us combined.”

“He’s a growing boy.”

Lucas had adopted the dog as a puppy on one of his trips to Loving four years earlier and had never regretted it. Like Tango, the dog had provided company and silent, nonjudgmental understanding as he’d grieved for his wife. Though the pain had softened over the years, it was still with him and likely always would be. He’d come to accept that and didn’t fight it. The truth was that in the darkest hours of night, he missed her, for all his tough exterior and seeming coldheartedness.

“You sort your situation out?” Hal asked as he sat at the dining table.

Lucas set a steaming plate in front of him before serving himself. “You want some water?” he asked, sidestepping the question.

“Sticking to lightning. But only one tonight. I’ll leave you to sleep. I got plenty of rest the last couple days without you around to keep me up.”

“Suit yourself,” Lucas said, carrying over a heaping plate and sitting down opposite Hal. They bowed their heads as Hal said grace and then dug in, the only sound their chomping and the clinking of spoons against plates.

“I’m thinking ’bout heading into town day after tomorrow for the market,” Hal said. “Could use some of Miss Pam’s fresh bread and corn tortillas.”

“They are good,” Lucas agreed between mouthfuls.

“When you heading back into the hills for the horses?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Hal agreed. “How is it out there?”

“Never changes. My ears are still ringing from the shootout at Duke’s, though.”

“That’ll stay with you a day or three.”

“Yup.”

They continued eating, and as Lucas scooped up the last of his portion, he sat back abruptly and dropped the spoon with a clatter. “Crap.”

Hal didn’t comment, just looked up, his expression wooden. “Be careful.”

Lucas pushed back from the table, slopped more stew onto his plate, and set it on the floor for Bear. He moved to Hal’s shortwave radio and powered it up, and then transmitted a call for the doctor on the channel the radio operators in town monitored. A moment later the doctor’s voice answered after a burst of static. Lucas asked about Carl.

“He and Alan rode out about twenty minutes ago,” the doctor said.

“Which way?”

“Staying off the highway. Keeping to the road to the east.”

“Thanks, Doc. How’s she doing?”

“She’s sleeping. Not out of the woods yet, but she’s scrappy. You saw for yourself.”

Hal watched Lucas and, when he switched the radio off, rose and moved to the pantry, where they kept their food in resealable containers. The refrigerator was a high-efficiency model that consumed almost no power, but they didn’t keep much in the way of perishables, preferring to hunt every two or three days and store what they dressed for immediate consumption.

“You’re going to want more jerky. Some of these rolls should be okay for another day,” Hal said.

“I’ll get my guns and body armor.”

Hal nodded. “I’d pack for a couple of days. You’ll want a lot of water. She’ll be dehydrated.”

Lucas eyed him. “You okay with this?”

Hal shrugged. “Not my call.”

Lucas went to prepare his kit. Much as he wanted to ignore the little girl’s plight, leaving it to the do-gooders who would probably get themselves killed bumbling around in the desert, he just couldn’t. Maybe it was his experience losing his wife, or just the way he’d been raised, but he ultimately had no more choice in the matter than a compass had to point due north.

Carl’s and Alan’s horses tromped along the shoulder of the secondary road at a moderate pace, the route south clearly visible in the moonlight. Both wore plate carriers stuffed with extra magazines and clutched AR-15s. The lawmen also sported 9mm Berettas in hip holsters and toted twelve-gauge shotguns in their saddle scabbards.

Carl slowed as they rounded a gentle bend and cocked his head, his Stetson perched at an angle. After several seconds, he leaned toward the younger deputy and whispered, “You hear that?”

Alan shook his head.

“My ears are probably playing tricks on me,” Carl said in hushed tones, eyes roving over the brush.

“Maybe not,” Alan said a moment later, and pointed ahead, where a rider waited motionless in the center of the road, astride an impressively large stallion.

Carl spurred his horse forward until he drew even with Lucas. The sheriff looked him up and down, and then cleared his throat and tried not to grin. “Lovely night for a ride.”

Lucas spun Tango around wordlessly and let Carl and Alan take the lead, already nodding off in the saddle as the three of them headed south.

Chapter 14

Dawn was still several hours away when they turned off the secondary road and cut toward the foothills where Lucas had rescued the woman. Duke’s trading post lay six miles due south, but by riding in a more westerly direction, they could bypass his place and cut three hours off their trip. They were taking it easy on their horses, stopping regularly to rest and water them, and hadn’t seen anything but coyotes and the occasional night bird.

A ranch house stood to their right. Its roof had burned away, leaving only the cinder-block walls. Lucas sniffed the air before turning to Carl, his tone grim. “The other day there were people settled there. I gave them a wide berth, but saw a couple and their kid through my glasses. Had a roof then, too.”