The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) (9 page)

“So they’re long gone.”

“’Fraid so.”

“Well, hell.” Duke spit for emphasis. “Guess we’ll spend the night and then go after him. He’s not going to get away with this.” Duke paused. “Anyone else been asking about him?”

“Nope. He had everyone conned.”

“I’ll say. And there’s nothing left?”

“No. He took it all. But the well still works. You can water your horses, at least.”

“That’s good to know. Solves one problem.”

“Name’s Tom. You need anything, we got eggs and some power. We can trade. Plenty to go around.”

“That’s mighty neighborly, Tom. I’m Duke. This is Aaron. Might take you up on the power and eggs. Got some batteries need charging, and we haven’t had a decent meal in forever.”

“Long as you got some ammo, we can dicker.”

“Where’s your place?”

“Down this street, left-hand side, ’bout a quarter mile away. Painted blue, next to a bombed-out gas station. Can’t miss it. Got lights and everything.”

“We’ll be along shortly. Thanks for the offer.”

Tom shuffled off, leaving Duke and Aaron to their chores. They watered the horses and let them graze. Aaron swatted mosquitoes away as twilight approached and eyed Duke.

“You think he ripped the place off?”

Duke laughed. “Of course. But Bruce probably had it coming. What does that tell you?”

“He isn’t going to be back.”

“Right. Which means Lucas either scared the crap out of him or made him a better offer. Maybe a little of both.” Duke studied the trailer. “Lucas had something up his sleeve with that woman. Bruce must have been part of the puzzle. Only thing that makes sense.”

“We going to get some eggs?”

“Absolutely. Probably Bruce’s chickens, too. I’d say old Tom made out like a bandit.”

“I could eat.”

“Let’s let the horses feed and then we’ll hoof it over. No point in starving to death. Tomorrow we’ll ride north and see what we find.”

“Four or five days is a lot of lead time.”

“Yeah, but we’re not looking to catch up with them on the road. Wherever they settle’s fine by me.”

“You haven’t said why you want to find them.”

“Business, of course.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, but Duke didn’t elaborate. He was in charge, and Aaron had nothing better to do, anyway. Duke had treated him well at the trading post, and he had no doubt the trader would do the same wherever he wound up.

“Roswell, huh?” Aaron said. “What have you heard about it?”

“Not much. But it’s a decent size, and that means opportunity. Let’s check it out. Can’t hurt.”

Aaron nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“Yup. And right now, I’m thinking about eight eggs scrambled sounds about right.”

Chapter 15

Cano’s men drifted along the highway in a semi-stupor as the day wore on, the swelter intolerable. While the landscape south had been brutal at times, there was little to prepare them for the inhospitable terrain as they pushed north. Quincy had found what he’d thought might be faint tracks along one of the side trails that paralleled the highway, and their party fanned out along that strip of barren trail, plodding along with the tenacity of a chain gang.

Quincy was in the lead, with Carlton a few yards from his side, their heads hanging and chins nearly to their chests, hats pulled low against the blazing sun. The horses were doing all the work, but none were moving fast, leaving their riders to doze in the worst of the heat.

Cano had insisted that they keep their breaks to only a few minutes each hour, and the animals were beginning to show the effects of fatigue. Nobody had dared counter Cano’s insistence on pressing forward, and the mood among the men was glum as horse and rider alike reached the limits of their endurance.

A cry sounded from Quincy’s right, and he twisted to see what had alarmed Carlton. Instead of the young trader, all he saw was a cavity in the ground. The pained scream of a horse sounded from its depths, and Cano and Quincy leapt from their mounts and ran to the edge of the hole, guns in hand.

Carlton’s horse was lying at the bottom of a pit, the lower part of which skewed at an impossible angle. At least one of the beast’s legs had clearly been shattered from the drop, and Carlton himself had been impaled on sharpened branches that protruded from the base of the hole. Twitching, he tried to speak, but blood gushed down his chin, and he coughed a crimson spray against the side of the pit.

Cano shook his head. “Trap.”

The rest of the group gathered around Cano, who flipped his rifle safety off and aimed at the horse. The first burst of fire snuffed out the suffering animal’s life, and Cano shifted his aim to Carlton, whose eyes were open, as though pleading with them to spare him.

“We need to help him,” Luis said.

Cano shook his head. “Look at him. He’ll never survive. He’s finished.”

The bark of the AK-47 ended the discussion, the rounds liquefying the young man’s skull. The Rodriguez brothers watched without reaction, and Cano lowered his weapon and switched the safety back on.

“Get a rope,” he called over his shoulder. “Retrieve his gold and weapons, and don’t miss his water and food. We’ll need as much as we can carry. No point in letting it go to waste.”

The two Crew gunmen sprang into motion to obey as Cano turned to Quincy.

“Why didn’t you spot the trap?” Cano growled.

“I…I was focused on the trail. Nobody told me there might be traps, or I would have.”

“I thought you knew these parts.”

“Never been up here. I stick close to town, mostly. Nothing up here but trouble and death.”

Cano stood silently for a moment, his finger hovering over the trigger guard of his rifle, and then walked back to his horse without comment. The danger of the moment that had just passed was palpable, and Quincy snuck a glance at Luis, who shrugged and watched the pair of Crew gunmen as one braced a rope so the other could lower himself into the hole and relieve the dead horse of its burden.

Ten minutes later they were back on the trail, now in single file. Quincy searched the path in front of them for any hint of a trap, unnerved at the near miss and how quickly their expedition had claimed its first casualty.

The air had begun to cool from broiling to baking when Luis called out to Cano, “Riders hard right!”

Luis already had his Kalashnikov in play as Cano drove his horse close and pushed the barrel aside.

“What the hell are you doing?” Luis cried.

“Stand down!” Cano yelled. “No shooting. That’s an order.”

“But–” Luis protested.

“You heard me,” Cano warned.

The men reluctantly obeyed, confusion on their faces, as a group of ten Apache gunmen cantered into view with rifles in hand. Cano held his ground, and the lead rider rode up to him.

Cano took the leader’s measure, his weathered skin tanned the color of rust, the hard lines of his face all angles, his gaze unblinking.

“You’re on our land,” the leader said, his voice a rasp. His gunmen held their position, aiming their weapons at Cano’s group.

“Yes,” Cano said. “My boss was supposed to contact your people and arrange something.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Cano. I’m with the Crew.”

“The Crew?”

“That’s right.” Cano eyed the man’s radio. “Why don’t you call in and talk to your headquarters?”

“Keep your hands where we can see them if you want to stay alive,” the lead rider cautioned, and moved back to his men, radio raised to his lips.

A tense calm descended over the area as the radio screeched static, and then a voice answered. The leader had a terse discussion in a language Cano didn’t recognize. After several minutes of back and forth, he returned, his gun now in his saddle scabbard, radio clipped to his belt.

“Your Magnus spoke to us,” the leader said. “I’m to bring you to the reservation to meet with our council.”

“What? No. We need a guide. You’re supposed to get us someone to take us to Albuquerque. No meetings.”

“Those aren’t my orders. They said to escort you to see them.”

“Magnus was clear–”

“All I know’s what my boss told me, and that’s to lead you to headquarters so you can discuss your situation.”

Cano made a visible effort to control his rage, his tattoos squirming like insects on his shaved head. He drew a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“It’s not close. We’ll ride another hour or so and make camp for the night.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Cano growled.

“We don’t ride at night. So that’s how it is.”

“We’re in a hurry.”

“Look, you don’t like it, you can take it up with the chief. But he knows how we operate, and he’s expecting you tomorrow. Trying to ride all night won’t accomplish anything but endanger the horses, which I won’t do,” the leader said, his voice hard. “One misstep in the dark and I have a man without a horse. That’s not going to happen, so we’ll ride first thing in the morning and be there by noon.”

Cano could see he was getting nowhere. “Where’s your reservation?”

“North. It’s in the general direction of Albuquerque, so you’ll only lose the same time you would have if you’d camped out tonight anyway.” The leader paused. “Judging by the look of your horses, they need rest. They probably wouldn’t make it on an all-night ride even if I was willing to chance it.”

Cano looked away, considering. There was no point in escalating the conflict when it was obvious the leader was intractable. “Fine. Tell your men to stand down. I don’t need someone shooting me in the back by mistake.”

The leader nodded and called out in Apache. There was a rustle from behind Cano as the gunmen lowered their weapons. The leader adjusted his Stetson over his brow and then pulled the reins and directed his horse to the track. “Stay single file on the trail. There are traps all around here.”

Cano’s lip curled. “I know. That’s what the shooting was all about. We already lost a horse and rider.”

The leader didn’t respond, instead spurring his horse forward wordlessly. Cano debated saying something more but instead followed suit, leaving Luis and the rest to find their way into formation as their escorts brought up the rear.

Chapter 16

Cano and his men arrived at the Apache headquarters at midday after a hard night in the desert. When they neared the compound of simple buildings, they were greeted by twenty gunmen, all cut from the same bolt of threadbare cloth, their faces speaking to lives of hardship and deprivation. The patrol leader dismounted and motioned for Cano to do the same, and led him to where the head of the tribe sat in the shade with three other old men, all wearing cowboy hats.

The leader introduced Cano and left him to the council, who studied him dispassionately.

“Pull up a chair,” Ben said.

“That’s okay. I’ll stand.” Cano paused. “Why wasn’t I provided a guide?”

“You mean, why didn’t we anticipate that we would run into you in the middle of nowhere and have a fully provisioned guide waiting with the patrol on the off chance we did?” Ben asked, his tone flat but his words showing what he thought of Cano’s question.

Cano had no rejoinder, but he silently radiated fury at the Apache. He stood silently while Ben studied him like he’d just wiped him off the sole of his boot. Ben looked to his companions, who smiled, making Cano even angrier.

Ben sat forward. “Cool your jets. We’ve got a man for you. He’s ready to go. We had to pull him out of the field – our normal guy took off yesterday, and we lost a man down Roswell way recently, so we’re a little short-handed.”

“Took off?”

“Yes. Another party headed north.”

Cano’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Who?”

“Party of five. One of ’em Snakebit. Ugly.”

“Any women?”

Ben looked him up and down. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m tracking someone who stole our property. A woman. Young.”

“There was an older woman. Also a younger one, with a child. Cute little thing. But at that age, they usually are.”

Cano swallowed. “A child?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Little girl.”

“You had them here, and you didn’t hold them?” Cano blurted.

Ben appraised him. “Why would we? They paid their way. Just like you did. We’ve got no beef with them.”

“When did they leave?”

“Yesterday evening.”

Cano did a quick calculation. “Damn. We’ll never catch up. Can you radio your guide and have them delayed?”

Ben shook his head. “Our man doesn’t have a radio.”

“Your patrol did,” Cano snapped.

“No reason to give a guide one of the few working units.”

Cano softened his approach. “We would pay. A lot.”

“Which would have been nice to know yesterday. But your boss never mentioned it. He just negotiated your trip. Can’t read minds.”

“There’s nothing you can do?”

“Not now.”

Cano’s brow furrowed with concentration. “I need to use your radio to call Magnus. You’re positive they’re headed to Albuquerque?”

“Yes. Like I said, one of the men was snakebit.”

“And there’s only five total?” Cano asked, trying to compute how two men and a pair of women could have slaughtered his force so effectively.

“That’s right.”

“Where’s your radio?”

“Thought you was in a big hurry. Sammy there’s your guide. He’s ready to roll when you are,” Ben said, pointing at a thin man in his twenties.

“I need to talk to Magnus.”

“Fair enough. I’ll show you the way.”

Ben stood slowly and led Cano into the building. An old shortwave transmitter sat on a folding table by one of the dusty windows, where a bored operator watched the scanner for signs of activity. Cano sat beside him and dialed the channel selector to the band the Crew used, and transmitted a call for Magnus. Five minutes went by, and then Snake’s voice came on the air.

“He can’t talk. What is it?”

“I have news.” Cano relayed the information in oblique terms any eavesdropper wouldn’t understand. When he was done, Snake was silent for several seconds.

“I’ll relay the info. You’re positive on the destination?” he asked.

“Yes. But they’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”