The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) (31 page)

“So you say. All I know is I hear promises, but no delivery.” Snake caught the warning glance from the Illuminati functionary and hurried to backpedal. “What I meant is that it’s hard to perform with one hand tied behind my back. And relying on horses to move men around isn’t doing either of us any favors.”

Lassiter’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you meant.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you or your group. I’m just frustrated. We all are.”

“Noted. But that’s not getting us anywhere.”

“We’re doing everything we can think of. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears,” Snake grumbled.

Lassiter rose and stood with his hands on his hips, facing Snake, who shrank a little in his chair at the man’s quiet presence. Lassiter took a step toward him and spoke softly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to assign a new advisor to you. He’ll be here before the week is out. He’s a more senior man than Zach. Perhaps we overestimated Zach’s abilities – I’m willing to concede that much. You are to treat him as if it were me advising you, and I’d strongly suggest you do whatever he says. There’s a limit to how long we’ll tolerate failure, and I can share with you that we’re near that limit. If you can’t execute, we’ll have to find someone who can.”

“If you’re so powerful and smart, why do you need me?” Snake blurted, and instantly regretted it.

“That’s a good question. For your sake, you better hope the answer isn’t that we don’t.”

“I don’t like being threatened,” Snake warned.

“I don’t threaten. I offer counsel. And here’s my counsel to you: if I want, I can flatten Houston with my big guns in under an hour and wipe you from the earth like a bunch of tattooed cockroaches. We’ve allowed you to operate your territory as you like, but you’re either an asset or a liability – and right now you’re tilting to the liability side of the equation.” Lassiter let that sink in. “And Snake, trust me: you don’t want to be a liability.”

Snake watched as Lassiter stalked to the door and opened it, the guards outside withdrawing deferentially as he brushed past them. Snake’s head throbbed and his stomach twisted in fury at being addressed like a servant. He was the head of the Southwest’s most powerful cartel. He had the power of life and death over thousands and more territory than anyone else in the land. That this effete pencil pusher in a suit dared to read him the riot act was unthinkable.

Snake imagined Lassiter spread-eagled at tonight’s executions, being dismembered slowly by starving rats for the amusement of the crowd, and smiled at the mental picture. Of course, he couldn’t do it, but the image calmed him as his mind savored the Illuminati man’s agonized screams.

Snake got to his feet and gulped two pills, washing them down with the last of the home-brewed ale from lunch. He needed to calm down and think clearly, not entertain impossibilities, and he couldn’t do that if his nerves were too close to the surface.

The truth was he didn’t much care if they ever found the woman or Shangri-La’s new location or any of the rest of it. That was Lassiter’s fixation, not his. But Snake would play along for now, until the refinery was operational, and put in a best effort while appearing to hang on the new advisor’s every word.

And then when he’d gotten what he needed from them, the advisor would disappear or suffer a horrendous accident or choke on a chicken bone – it didn’t much matter.

But now wasn’t the time to challenge his sponsor.

That would come later.

Chapter 49

John called out to Duke from his position at the gate of the new trading post located on a secondary highway near an intersection of the interstate that stretched from east to west, a bit more than two days’ ride east of Pagosa Springs. “Rider. About a hundred yards out.”

Duke was sitting by the entrance of the office he’d set up as his showroom. “Only one?”

“Yup.”

They’d been in business for a week and had been surprised by the number of migrants on the road. They’d found an ideal location and taken it over: a motel with a perimeter wall. The main structure was two stories tall and had been built from cinderblock and rebar sometime in the forties, before the construction technique had changed to sheetrock and studs. Duke had always favored more durable structures because of their ability to withstand Mother Nature’s destructive moods, as well as stop bullets when things got nasty. But what had decided it for him was a steel windmill that provided juice for the well pump and, with some modification, sufficient power to operate the radio.

“See what he wants.”

The rider neared, and John eyed his tattooed face with a somber stare. “Looks like Crew, Duke,” he warned.

Duke rose, AR-15 gripped by his side, and moved to the sandbagged guard post at the side of the gate. “Good thing Luis isn’t here. Might get a little difficult if they saw each other,” Duke murmured.

Luis had ridden into the hills several hours earlier to try his luck fishing for brook trout, and they didn’t expect him back until dusk. The ex-Loco boss’s ink might have raised uncomfortable questions in a member of the Crew, if that was, in fact, what the rider was.

Any doubts Duke had about the new arrival’s affiliation evaporated when he spied the eye of Providence on the man’s forehead as he slowed to a stop at the gate. Duke looked the rider over, noting the powerful arms connected to a torso that resembled a fireplug, and nodded a greeting.

“Howdy. What can we do you for?” Duke asked.

“Looking to trade for some supplies.”

“What do you need?”

“Provisions.”

“What do you have to barter?”

“Ammo.”

Duke and John exchanged a glance. That was their business, so they couldn’t refuse to let him in. Duke nodded again, and John shouldered his rifle strap and sauntered to the steel barrier to slide it open. The rider guided his horse through and directed the stallion to a hitching post Duke had rigged near a fifty-gallon barrel they’d cut in half and filled with water each day.

“Mind if I water my horse?” the rider asked.

“That’s what it’s there for. Cost you a round.”

“That’s fair. Don’t suppose you have any feed, do you?”

Duke grunted. “Sure. Cost you two more.”

“A bargain.”

“Given the location, a steal.”

The rider swung from the saddle and dropped to the ground. John approached after closing the gate, his gun in hand. “Rule is no weapons inside the wall,” he said.

The rider nodded and shrugged off the strap of his AK, held it out to John, barrel down, and then did the same with his pistol. When the man was unarmed, Duke motioned to the office. “Come on in and take a gander. We’re a little thin on some things, but got plenty of cured meat and some dried provisions that might get the job done.”

“Don’t suppose you have any citrus or vitamins, do you?”

“Got some expired vitamin C. Should still be good. Only two years past the date.”

“That’ll work.”

Duke mounted the steps, followed by the rider. Inside, they got down to business, and Duke negotiated a more than fair exchange for what the newcomer wanted. When they were done, the rider leaned against the reception counter and rubbed his stubbly chin with a dirty hand.

“You just open up?” he asked.

“Yeah, maybe a week or two ago. Figured we’d try our luck at it.”

“How’s business?”

“Can’t complain, although it could always be better.”

“See a lot of travelers?”

Duke nodded. “Enough to keep me in sin.” He hesitated. “Where you headed?”

“Just riding. You know how that is. No particular destination – they’re all the same these days.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You seen any big parties?”

“Nope. Onesies and twosies, mostly.”

“Huh. Any communities around here to trade with?”

Duke’s tone remained flat, his face a mask. “I wish. Make my life a lot easier if there was. More traffic.”

“I heard there might be one around here. Maybe new, too.”

“If you find one, stop back in and tell me where it is. Because nobody who’s come by to trade has seen anything but scrub and rock for hundreds of miles in all directions.”

The man nodded agreeably. “You hear anything about the big fight south of here?”

Duke nodded. “Heard from a family headed north there are a bunch of abandoned trucks and the like. Long ways south, though, isn’t it? New Mexico or Texas?”

The man’s placid expression didn’t change. “Down by Los Alamos is what I heard.”

“Don’t that beat all.”

The rider collected his purchases and moved to the door. At the threshold, he looked back at the hand-lettered sign over the reception desk. “Duke’s Trading, huh? Like John Wayne?”

“My daddy didn’t have a big imagination.”

“Nice to meet you. Name’s Dale. Might see you again if I swing back this way.”

“Open sunup to sundown.”

“Good to know. Didn’t think there was anything out here.”

“Casino and dancing girls go in next week.”

Duke and John watched Dale ride slowly away, and Duke narrowly resisted the urge to put a bullet in the back of his head. John scratched his head. “He’s looking for them, isn’t he?”

“Damn right he is.”

“Better get on the radio and warn them.”

“Tonight. But if he’s out here, he has no idea where they are.”

“Think he’ll give up eventually?”

“If he does, another will take his place. That’s just the way it works.”

“You could have sent him east. Told him fifty riders came by when you were opening up the place.”

“He’d have been back when he figured out I’m the only one who ever saw ’em, and we’d have tipped our hand.”

“You think he suspects anything?”

Duke watched the Crew scout disappear down the road and spit in the dirt by his boot. “Hope not.”

Chapter 50

Ground fog hung over the town and its bare trees, the morning a cold one. A few of the residents were pushing carts along the main street, their faces wrapped against the frigid breeze, their progress slowed by the slush on the pavement from melting snow.

Arnold sat inside his house, watching the flames dance in the fireplace as he sipped a warm cup of instant coffee – one of the few staples they still had, which, like rice, never went bad. His two-way radio crackled on the table, and the voice of Loren, on guard duty at the eastern end of town, emanated from the tinny speaker.

“Got three riders approaching. Over.”

Arnold leapt to his feet and moved to the device. “How close? Over.”

“Couple hundred yards. Over.”

Arnold swore. There had been no incidents or encounters yet. The town was so far off any path that travelers didn’t realize it was there; the signs at the highway intersection had been taken down by Arnold’s security detail and the road leading into town removed with picks and crowbars and replaced by felled trees and sod. He’d thought that with the snow and the subterfuge, they might remain hidden indefinitely, but he’d just been proved wrong and would have to deal with it.

“I’m on my way. Over.”

He scooped up the radio and pulled on a heavy jacket, a size too big but stuffed with down, and made for the door. He was halfway to the checkpoint when the radio crackled again.

“I recognize them. Over.”

Arnold paused. “Who is it? Over.”

“Lucas. Over.”

Arnold picked up his pace at the news and rounded the corner and made for the Humvee that blocked the road. Lucas, Sierra, and a small boy on a chestnut mare were ambling down the street and stopped when they saw Arnold. Arnold put out a call to Elliot as he approached them, alerting him that Lucas had arrived safely. Lucas gave Arnold a wave with a gloved hand and Arnold mirrored the gesture.

“The prodigal returns,” Arnold announced as he neared.

“Better late than never, right?” Lucas said.

“Suppose so.” Arnold peered at Tim. “Is this who I think it is?”

Sierra beamed at him. “Arnold, meet Tim, my son.”

Tim smiled shyly, and Arnold held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Tim.”

Tim took it after a slight hesitation and mumbled a greeting, and Lucas adjusted the hat he’d acquired outside of Shreveport, along with Tim’s horse. “See you made it back in one piece,” Lucas said.

“Yeah. But it looks like St. Louis got taken down, so we might as well have stayed home.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed. “You sure?”

“Haven’t heard a peep out of them since a few days after we gave their guy the goods.”

“What does that do to the distribution plan?”

“It’s not positive, but we’ll manage. Just means we need to find someone else in the Midwest who can help. But nobody’s going anywhere until spring, so we have time.”

“Anything change around here? Did the other groups make it back?”

“They did. No casualties.” Arnold’s face clouded for a moment. “Except for Aaron, Duke’s friend.”

Sierra’s hand flew to her mouth. “Aaron? How?”

Arnold recounted the story of their trip and finished by telling them about Duke’s trading post. When he was done, Lucas nodded. “Always figured he’d go back to that. Man loves to dicker.”

“But why Luis as a partner?” Sierra asked.

“Maybe because I wasn’t around,” Lucas said. “He made me an offer earlier; then I got…sidetracked.”

She smiled and looked over to Tim, his face serious as he listened to the adults. “Well, I for one am glad you got sidetracked.”

Elliot rounded the corner with Ruby and Eve in tow, the older woman’s long gray hair billowing in the breeze and her body swaddled in layers. They dismounted and Ruby hugged each in turn, and Sierra introduced Tim, who looked increasingly uncomfortable with each new arrival. Eve approached him and smiled, her eyes blazing blue, mirroring the cobalt sky. “Is he my new brother?” she asked Sierra.

“Yes,” Sierra managed between laughing and blushing. “Yes, he is. So be nice to him.”

The two children sized each other up. Eve looked at Lucas. “He’s awful skinny,” she said. “But you kept your promise. You’re back, and everyone’s safe. I knew you would – I knew it.”

Lucas suggested they get out of the cold and paused before speaking to Elliot in a low voice. “Need to talk to you and Arnold. Got some stuff to fill you in on.”