The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) (12 page)

They reached the bar as purple and mauve ribboned the sky, and Cano ordered the men to wait outside while he spoke with their contact. He was gone for ten minutes, and when he returned, he looked ready to explode.

“There was a shoot-out. Three of our mercenaries were killed,” he announced.

“With the woman?”

“Unknown. They were watching one of the medical clinics. Our man thinks the snakebite victim showed up there – and something went wrong.”

“Obviously,” Luis said, drawing a glower from Cano.

“What do we do now?” Quincy asked.

Cano thought for several beats. “I want to have a talk with the doctor. He can tell us who he treated and at least confirm it was them.”

“And if it was?” Len asked.

“Then we hire a tracker and see if we can pick up their trail.”

“It’s a big city,” Luis observed. “If they’ve gone to ground, it could take weeks to find them.”

“I’ll triple the reward and broadcast it from the tallest buildings. Someone will turn on them.” Cano moved to his horse. “I already told the bar owner to tell everyone he knows that we’re offering a jackpot.”

Cano pulled himself up into the saddle, his overmuscled arms bulging beneath the green and blue prison ink, and rode off, leaving the rest of them to catch up. They wended through the city center until they arrived at the clinic as night fell. Cano dismounted and instructed his men to wait for him.

Cano approached the entry and called out to the guards, “Doctor here?”

“What’s wrong with you?” one of the guards asked.

“Cramps. Is he here?”

The guards exchanged an uncertain glance and the nearest one nodded. “I’ll tell him he’s got a patient.”

“Do that.”

Cano held off on shooting them. He didn’t want to attract the wrath of the militia, whom his contact had warned him about.

The man came back after several minutes and motioned to Cano. “He’ll see you now.”

The guard escorted Cano to the exam room, where Hodges waited, stethoscope draped around his neck. Cano took a seat on the table and waited until the guard left before answering the doctor’s question about what was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Doctor, is that I’m looking for someone who stole something very valuable from me, and I think you might have treated him.”

Hodges looked confused. Cano stood, filling the space with his bulk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hodges stammered.

“He had a snakebite.”

The doctor wasn’t a poker player. He began backing toward the door. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients…”

“Doctor, there are two ways this can go. I can either pay well for anything you know, and then I leave and you never see me again; or I can mop the floor with you and still get the same information. You’re a smart man. Educated. This isn’t a tough choice.”

Cano could see in the man’s eyes that he believed him.

“For the sake of conversation,” Hodges said, “you mention payment. What did you have in mind? Not that I know much of anything.”

“Ten ounces of gold. Or all the pharmaceuticals you can carry. Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Five minutes later Cano emerged from the clinic and stormed to his horse. He vaulted into the saddle and called out to the rest, “They were here. We need to find a tracker.”

Quincy frowned. “How will we know where to start looking?”

Cano turned to Quincy. “The doctor recognized the mud on their boots. From the river. I’ll put the word out – maybe there was a patrol or someone who saw them pass, assuming they aren’t still camped out. If we don’t get a lead, we’ll scour the bank until we find tracks.” He paused and his eyes narrowed. “One way or another, we’ll get them.”

Chapter 20

Lucas sat on a log by the creek with Eve by his side. Sierra watched intently as he showed the little girl how to toss a chrome spoon secured to the end of a hand line and slowly retrieve it in a manner that made it seem to swim, zigging and zagging in the current like a minnow racing for its life. Eve giggled each time he pulled the spoon out of the water and cast it downstream again, the monofilament uncoiling from the pile by his feet without tangling – a seeming miracle to her.

“Think we’ll actually catch anything?” Sierra asked after another toss.

“If there’s fish, we’ll catch ’em,” Lucas assured her.

“So jerky for dinner again?” Sierra responded.

“No. There’s always the crossbow. I’m sure there are some rabbits around.”

“I like bunnies,” Eve said as she followed the flashes of the swimming spoon.

“Everyone likes bunnies,” Sierra agreed.

“I’ll leave it to your aunt to explain the food chain some other time,” Lucas said, and Sierra gave him a slit-eyed look.

Following a four-hour rest, they had ridden all day once clear of Albuquerque and had clocked twenty-five grueling miles before calling it quits. They hadn’t seen a soul as they traced the river’s course north, easing Lucas’s worry that they might leave a trail of witnesses for the Crew to follow.

When pressed by Sierra, Colt had told them that he expected to arrive at Shangri-La within another day – two, on the outside. The terrain was slowly climbing as they worked their way toward Los Alamos after giving Santa Fe a wide berth, their surroundings green from the plentiful water supplied by the Rio Grande. But the increasing altitude was slowing the animals, and Colt warned that they could expect to make worse time the following day.

Lucas looked up at the sky, only a few high cotton ball clouds drifting east, and checked the time. He sat back as he wound the line in and smiled at Sierra.

“Another ten minutes and we’ll head back.”

Eve looked unhappy to leave the river – she liked the cool water on her bare feet – and Lucas was framing a reassurance when Ruby’s scream from their camp upstream pierced the silence. Sierra leapt to her feet, but Lucas was faster.

“Stay here with Eve. Don’t follow me. I’ll come back for you,” he whispered, shrugging the M4’s shoulder sling off.

“What do you think it is?” she asked. “Another snake?”

“I’ll be back,” Lucas said, and took off toward a game trail that ran along the water, the firing selector of his rifle already switched to three-round burst.

His boots pounded on the dirt as he pushed himself to run faster, and his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen at the higher altitude. The trail branched off and he took the left fork, slowing as he neared the campsite so his footfalls wouldn’t alert whatever had caused Ruby’s alarm.

A shot rang out from the camp and he winced – that would draw anyone within five miles. He crept the final twenty yards to the clearing with the tents and stopped when he saw Colt propped against his saddlebags, holding a pistol; two strangers lay on the ground near Ruby, both clearly dead.

“What happened?” Lucas demanded.

Ruby looked to him with frightened eyes. “I was at the river, getting some water, and heard something in the brush. They must have followed me up.”

Colt took over the narrative, his voice low. “I was dozing, and this pair showed up with guns.”

Ruby pointed at one of the men. “They had Colt and me covered, so we couldn’t draw our weapons, but Tarak was in the bushes.”

“Nature called,” Tarak interjected.

“They were getting ready to shoot us when Tarak’s knife came flying and took that one down,” Colt said, gesturing at one of the corpses.

Lucas walked to the man and turned him over. A hunting knife, its bone handle smeared with crimson, was lodged to the hilt in the base of his throat.

“That bought me a chance to get my pistol out, and you can see the rest,” Colt said.

“Any idea who they were?” Ruby asked.

Lucas examined the men’s weapons, both battered AK-47s that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a lifetime, and removed revolvers from their hip holsters – .38-caliber service pistols that were sixty years old if a day.

“Scavengers, by the looks of them. They look half-starved, and their gear’s crap.”

“You think there are more?” Colt asked.

“If there are, they’re on their way here. We need to get moving again.”

Tarak reached to his knife jutting from the dead man’s throat and pulled it free. He inspected the handle with a look of distaste and shook his head. “I’ll be back. Need to rinse this clean.”

Lucas turned his back on the dead men and addressed Ruby. “Break down the tents while I get Sierra and Eve. Colt, keep an eye peeled for company.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but spun on his heel and jogged back along the trail, his muscles protesting the exertion after twelve hours in the saddle. When he arrived at the river, Sierra was hugging Eve, smoothing her hair and whispering to her. She looked up at Lucas’s approach.

“What was it?” she asked.

“Couple of dirtbags. We need to clear out. That shot will bring more cockroaches out of the woodwork.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Just them. Come on. Time’s a-wasting.”

Sierra struggled to her feet, a look of resignation on her face. Lucas moved to the water’s edge and gathered his fishing gear. He slid it into a pouch that he slipped into his flak jacket.

Sierra shook her head. “It never ends, does it?”

Lucas didn’t answer.

“I’m so sick of riding…”

“I know the feeling. But we need to put some miles between us and the camp, or we’re asking for it.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m just whining.”

“We’re all at the end of our ropes. You’ve earned the right. But whine while we ride.”

Chapter 21

Cano watched as the tracker they’d hired in Albuquerque squinted at the trail while Quincy stood by his side. They’d been contacted by a fisherman the prior morning who had told them he had been on the river the night before and seen a group headed north. The man had nothing more to add, other than his approximate position when he’d spotted them, but that had been enough. Cano had him lead them to the spot, and the tracker had quickly found evidence of the group’s passing and led them north.

They had spent the day following the tracks and made camp when it had grown too dark to distinguish them any longer. Up at dawn the following day, they’d continued along the river’s course until mid-afternoon, when the tracker had begun having problems.

“Too rocky,” he’d said, the going painful as he roamed ahead and then retraced his path in case he’d missed something. Hours of that had led them to this point, and Cano waited for the man’s verdict with a sinking stomach.

The tracker straightened and consulted with Quincy in a low voice. After a minute, Cano interrupted their discussion with an impatient tone. “Well?”

Quincy looked around and then shrugged. “We lost the trail. Ground’s too hard.”

“What about broken branches or something?” Cano asked. “Isn’t that how trackers are supposed to follow people?”

“They’re being careful. Sticking to the bank or trails. They aren’t breaking anything; not that there’s much around here to break anyway. But it’s amateurs that do that sort of thing. These people know what they’re doing.” The tracker shook his head. “Cain’t follow a trail where there ain’t none.”

“You’re being paid a lot, old man. Too much for failure,” Cano warned.

“I done what you asked. But this is as far as I go.” The man spread his hands before him in a reasoning gesture. “Sorry.”

“So do you only get part of the fee?”

“That ain’t how it works.”

Cano snorted dismissively. “I don’t pay for best efforts. You told us you could track them, what was it, ‘to the end of the earth’?” Cano looked around. “I don’t see any end here, do you?”

“I done my job. Earned my money fair and square.”

“You didn’t finish the job.”

The man turned away and made for his horse. “This is bullshit. You’re a cheat. Find your own way back. I’m out of here.”

Cano’s pupils shrank to pinpoints and his hand flew to his pistol. He whipped it out and fired three times in rapid succession. The tracker screamed and pitched forward, all three shots grouped in the center of his back, and hit the ground hard, where he convulsed and stilled.

Cano dropped from the saddle and walked to where the man lay facedown. He looked around at his men, whose faces were blank, and kicked the tracker in the head with a sickening thwack.

“You’re going to call me a cheat and walk away? How did that work for you, you dumb prick? You roasting in hell now? Save a spot for me.”

The men looked away as Cano unzipped his jeans and urinated on the dead man, a grin revealing yellowing incisors. When he finished, he seized his horse’s bridle and faced his men.

“Anyone else want to call it quits? I still have plenty of rounds for your severance pay,” Cano said.

None of the men spoke. Cano nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now get that garbage out of my sight. We’ll make camp here. I have a good feeling about this place,” he said.

Luis waited until Cano had calmed down before approaching him. “Maybe we should head back to town and get some dogs or something,” he suggested.

“No, we’ll stay put.”

Luis considered pressing the point, but a glance at Cano’s face made him think better of it. “Okay, then. Anything you want me to do?”

“Keep the new guys in line.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what are we waiting for here? I mean, I’m fine with it, but what should I tell them?”

Cano’s voice dropped to a raspy growl. “Tell them that they’re to follow orders and not pester me with stupid questions, or they’ll join the tracker in a ditch.”

Luis nodded at the nonanswer. “Sure.”

Cano fixed Luis with a hard stare. “You’re getting on my nerves with your questions and your attitude. You got a problem? Because I have bigger fish to fry than whether you approve of my decisions or not.”

“It’s not that. I just want to make sure–”

“Luis, you’re not here to think or second-guess. You want to be in the Crew, you play by our rules – and that means you do as ordered, with no backtalk or attitude. This is your last warning. I’m not going to say it again.”

Luis bit back his response and managed a tight nod. He crossed over to where the men were assembling their tents and set to driving tent pegs into the hard ground, using the back of his camp hatchet, his temples pounding. In his mind’s eye, he flung the hatchet with deadly accuracy and it cleaved Cano’s forehead in two.