The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels)

by Russell Blake

  “Like what?”

  “Guys tried to rob me couple years back.”

  “You ever kill a man?”

  “One of them died.”

  “Could you do it again?”

  Bruce nodded. “In a heartbeat. It was either them or me. In that kind of situation, you do what you have to.”

  Lucas returned his nod. “Fine. We’re going to ride at daybreak. Pack everything you’ll need as though you were never coming back. Because you’ll probably never see this place again. You got any problem with that?”

  Bruce shook his head. “Music to my ears. I’ll be ready.”

  “What kind of weapons you have?”

  “AR-15, modified to full auto. H&K 9mm. Six spare magazines for the rifle, three for the pistol. Flak vest. Whole nine yards. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “You do the modification yourself?”

  Bruce nodded again. “Of course.”

  Lucas yawned, the long hours on the trail suddenly hitting him hard on a full stomach. He looked to Sierra and Ruby as he stood. “I’m sorry. I’m beat. Let’s get some sleep while we can. Tomorrow’s going to be a hard one.”

  They followed him into the bedroom, Eve holding Sierra’s hand as Ruby fetched his bedroll from his kit and joined them. She spread it on the floor beside Sierra’s, and Lucas kicked off his boots and lowered himself with a grateful sigh.

  “You going to tell us what happened in Lubbock?” Sierra asked.

  Lucas gave them the short version, and by the time he was finished, both women looked shocked. Ruby shook her head and eyed him. “I swear you have nine lives, Lucas. But you’ve used up about ten.”

  “Sometimes it feels that way,” he agreed.

  “Do you think Jacob will be okay?” Sierra asked softly.

  “He seemed to think so. I have no way of knowing,” Lucas dissembled, reluctant to share his conclusions with her if he didn’t have to. She seemed to accept the response, and he let the discussion die there.

  On that note, he closed his eyes, and within thirty seconds he was snoring softly, the women beside him as they settled in for their last night of sleep under a roof for the foreseeable future.

  Chapter 44

  Readying the animals for travel and packing everything took longer than Lucas would have liked, and the sun was already painting the sky tangerine by the time they got under way. Lucas eyed the western horizon warily. A band of dark clouds loomed over the Guadalupe range, flashes of occasional lightning illuminating their mass. A gentle wind carried the scent of rain and ozone as they finished their final checks and mounted up, Lucas in the lead.

  Bruce moved to the gate and opened it, only to freeze when Wesley’s voice called out from the road beyond.

  “And where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” he demanded, shotgun in hand.

  “Wouldn’t be plannin’ on sneakin’ out on us, would ya?” Hank asked.

  “Boys, I’ve been thinking,” Bruce said. “I can’t find the parts, so you’re free to take my array. In fact, take anything you find inside – there’s a lot of stuff. Radio, inverter, batteries, the whole shooting match.”

  “He is sneakin’ away,” Wesley said. “I knew it. His crap probably doesn’t even work.”

  “It’s all fine. And now it’s yours. I’ve had it with this one-horse dump. You’re entitled to it,” Bruce said. “Including the chickens and the garden.”

  “What if we don’t want ’em?” Hank asked belligerently.

  “What are you talking about?” Bruce countered, shaking his head in wonder. “That’s what you came for. It’s yours. You win, and I quit. How dumb are you that you don’t get it?”

  “I think he just called you an idiot,” Wesley snarled.

  “There a problem here, fellas?” Lucas asked, guiding Tango into view.

  “What’s it to you?” Wesley barked.

  “You’re holding me up, and I need Bruce here to fix my rig. I’ve got a lot of road to cover, so I’d appreciate it if you boys settled your differences and moved aside.”

  “You don’t tell us what to do,” Hank growled. “This is our town.”

  “Which you’re entitled to. But Bruce here is going with me, and he won’t be coming back. You have a beef with him, he’s leaving you plenty to make up for it. So I’d say you’re more than even.” Lucas adjusted the shoulder strap of his M4 and let his hand trail to his hip holster.

  “Don’t like your tone, stranger,” Wesley snarled.

  “My grandpa used to say something pretty smart. Stayed with me,” Lucas said. “Always ask yourself if this is the hill you want to die on before you pick a fight. If it is, and you’re ready to meet your maker, then continue. If not, let it go. Wise man, he was.”

  “You threatening me?” Wesley asked, raising the barrel of his shotgun toward Lucas.

  “Another thing he said was if you point a gun at a man, better be because you plan to use it.”

  The sound of Ruby chambering a round in her rifle before riding into view, her gun leveled at Wesley, surprised Wesley and Hank.

  “Your grandpa was indeed a smart one,” Ruby said. “You fellas want your lives to be over this morning, or you figure this isn’t worth dying for?”

  Lucas drew his Kimber while the two men were absorbing the sight of Ruby with an assault rifle pointed at them. He drew a bead on Wesley’s head. “This here’s a .45-caliber Kimber with hollow-point rounds. When one hits a man’s skull, it puts you in mind of a melon smacking the sidewalk. Ain’t pretty. Ask me how I know that.”

  “Our fight ain’t with you. He screwed us,” Hank called from behind Wesley, his gun now raised as well.

  “That may be,” Lucas conceded. “And now he’s giving you everything he owns. So you need to decide whether you want what brains you have in the dirt, or are smart enough to walk away.” Lucas shrugged, his gun hand steady as a rock. “Ruby, you take the loudmouth behind this one – full auto. I got our friend here.”

  “Okay.”

  “So fellas, like I said: I’m in a mite of a hurry, and you’re holding me up. What’s it going to be?” Lucas asked, cocking the Kimber hammer, his eyes barely visible beneath the brim of his beaver felt hat.

  “Ain’t right, is all,” Wesley said, lowering his shotgun.

  “You gonna let ’em just walk?” Hank demanded.

  “Shut up, Hank,” Wesley said. “Put the gun down. We won this round.”

  “Appreciate it if you boys would toss your pieces inside the gate,” Lucas instructed. “You can get them back once we’re out of sight.”

  “Now you’re disarming us?” Hank called, his rifle still raised.

  “Don’t want to get back shot. Only two ways to do that. One’s blow your heads off. The other’s to lock your guns in here so it takes you some time to get ’em. You’re trying my patience something fierce.”

  The conflict ended when both men tossed their rifles to where Bruce stood. He toed them onto the grounds. Lucas eyed the pair. “Pistols, too.”

  Wesley reluctantly removed a Glock from a belt holster, and Hank drew a long-barrel Colt revolver. They lobbed them past Bruce with angry expressions.

  “There,” Bruce said. “Everybody gets to live to see another sunrise. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “Wouldn’t push it,” Lucas warned. “Close up after us, and let’s git.”

  Bruce scrambled to comply as Sierra and Ruby trailed Lucas off the grounds. Bruce led his horse past the waiting men and then returned to close and lock the gate with the padlock hanging from the bolt. If looks could kill, Bruce would have been dead and buried, but he ignored the duo and mounted his horse.

  “See you around here again, ain’t gonna go like that,” Hank growled to him. Bruce flipped him off as he gave his horse the spurs. The man reddened as he and Wesley made for the gate and the guns beyond it.

  Lucas breathed a sigh of relief when they were on the road, and led them off the highway once the town had faded in the dis
tance. There were well-defined game trails that paralleled the highway, and the horses settled into a comfortable pace Lucas estimated at between three and four miles per hour.

  “Think we’re going to outrun the storm?” Sierra asked from beside Lucas.

  “Hope so. Might blow itself out over the mountains. They sometimes do.”

  “That would suck. I mean, riding in the rain. As if covering this much distance in a day isn’t bad enough. Can you imagine?”

  Ruby spoke from behind them. “Don’t tempt fate. The universe hears you, it might get ideas.”

  “Little rain never hurt anybody,” Lucas said. “But it would slow us down some.” He peered at the clouds. “Doesn’t seem to be moving. Cross your fingers.”

  “So who are we meeting?” Bruce asked.

  “A guy,” Lucas responded.

  “Are we back to that again?”

  “Look, Bruce, you’re riding with us, okay?” Lucas snapped. “Let’s get to Roswell and see how things shake out.”

  “Where exactly in Roswell is it we’re meeting this…guy?”

  “At a lake north of town.”

  “I know the place you’re talking about. Not much out there.”

  “Like it better that way.”

  Lucas spit to the side of the trail, signaling the discussion was over, and kept his eyes on the trail ahead, M4 in one hand and reins in the other, his back straight as he scanned the surroundings. An occasional low rumbling of distant thunder from the mountains reminded them all that they were far from in the clear, and it was with distinct apprehension that they rode toward uncertainty, thoughts filled with imaginings of what was to come.

  Chapter 45

  Their luck ran out as they skirted Roswell. The heavens opened, dropping raindrops the size of quarters, instantly soaking everyone. If Lucas was deterred, he gave no indication, checking the time occasionally as he navigated the trail and confirming with Bruce that they were headed in the right direction. Sierra wrapped a horse blanket around Eve to help shield her from the rain as they soldiered on through the storm, the rain hammering them relentlessly.

  Bitter Lake was a dark strip a little over half a mile long and provided water for Roswell, as well as ample fishing and hunting of the animals that made their way to it in order to quench their thirst. Bruce told them that the bar they were going to had been built as a stopping point for townspeople out for the day, providing a cool destination when the heat became unbearable.

  They traversed a dirt road and Sierra pointed to a sign barely visible in the downpour. “Look. Bitter Lake, one mile.”

  “Good. Horses need a break. Harder slog in this muck,” Lucas said. The horses’ hooves pulled free of the mud with an audible sucking sound, every step a chore with the additional resistance, especially at the end of a demanding day.

  They followed the road and slowed when they came around a curve and found themselves at a barrier, facing two men with assault rifles sitting beneath a lean-to with a tarp over it that sheltered them from the deluge. One of the men stood and approached them, his rifle on Lucas.

  “Place is closed ’cause of the storm,” he announced. “Sorry.”

  “We’re supposed to meet someone,” Sierra said.

  “Yeah? Who are you?”

  “My name’s Sierra.”

  The man’s expression changed and he nodded. “He’s expecting you.”

  “So it is open?” Bruce asked.

  The gunman eyed him and then Ruby and Lucas. “For some.”

  The guard turned to his companion and motioned to him. The second man climbed from the shelter and opened the gate. He pointed into the rain at a single-story shack at the top of the rise. “Up there. He’s inside.”

  Lucas nodded, his eyes unblinking as water ran from the brim of his hat. “Much obliged.”

  “Hell of a thing, the rain, ain’t it? Came outta nowhere.”

  Lucas grunted. “It’ll do that.”

  He guided Tango toward the shack and saw as he neared that it was larger than he’d first thought. The walls had been fashioned from pallets nailed together, and several long slabs of corrugated metal mounted above the wood served as a makeshift roof. When he reached the entrance, he dismounted and waited for the others to do the same, and then tied Tango to a hitching post. The women followed suit. Bruce took his time lowering himself from the saddle with a grimace.

  “Damn, that hurts. It’s been a while since I’ve spent that much time in the saddle,” he said.

  “Best get used to it,” Lucas said. “No planes headed to wherever we’re going.”

  The hinged board that served as the front door was open, and Lucas entered the building. The rain beat a steady tattoo on the metal roof. Sierra and Eve mounted the single step after him, and Ruby accompanied Bruce inside, glad to be out of the rain.

  A man stood looking out at the lake through a window opening at the far side of the room. He turned at the sound of their arrival and looked them over with eyes like a bird of prey’s, his face angular, all planes and sharp edges.

  “You made it just in time,” he said.

  “Had to ride a ways,” Lucas said.

  The man’s gaze lingered on Eve, and it was with obvious reluctance that he pulled his eyes away and focused on Lucas.

  “It’ll be dark soon. Storm’s almost over, you can tell. Couple more hours, tops, which is good. We’ll be riding some tonight, until we’re well clear of Roswell and it’s safe to make camp.” The man hesitated. “Name’s Colt.”

  Lucas made introductions. “You’re our guide, then?”

  “Not for this leg. I’ll be riding with you, though. We have to meet a Native who will take us through his tribe’s territory.”

  “Apache?”

  Colt nodded. “They control a swatch about sixty miles deep that we have to cross. Take a dim view of trying without one of their own.”

  “Where are we meeting him?” Sierra asked.

  “There’s a truck stop just before the freeway junction northwest of here.”

  “How far?” Bruce asked.

  “About six miles.”

  “And from there?” Ruby asked.

  Colt smiled. “From there, we’ll make camp on the other side of the intersection. That delineates the end of Roswell’s territory and the beginning of Apache land.”

  “You sure we’ll be safe?” Bruce asked. “I heard about that last time I was here. Nobody goes north of the freeway, or they’re never seen again. I thought it was all BS…”

  “Nope. They mean business. But it’s okay. The tribe knows we’re coming.”

  “They do?” Sierra said.

  “Not who or why. Just that there’s a party headed north. They were paid a pretty penny to allow us through, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

  “And where to from there?” Ruby asked.

  “We’ll be riding for a long time, let me put it that way.”

  “You can’t tell us where Shangri-La is?” Sierra asked.

  “I’ve sworn to keep its location secret. I’d go to my grave without revealing it. It’s better that you don’t know until we’ve reached it.”

  “How do we even know it exists?” Bruce asked.

  Colt stared at him impassively. “Who is this?”

  “He helped us get here,” Ruby said.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over them as they sized one another up. Lucas checked his watch and looked to Colt. “What’s your role in this?”

  “Pretty simple. I don’t want to see the world ruined any worse than it is. We weren’t meant to be at each other’s throats like we are, living from day to day, killing to survive. Way I see it is this is a fight between light and darkness. I’m on the side of light.”

  Bruce tried to stifle his smirk, but Colt caught it. “Something strike you as funny?”

  “Um, no–”

  Gunshots from down the hill interrupted them, and Colt bolted for the entrance. Lucas joined him there, binoculars raised to his ey
es. He lowered them a moment later and looked to the bartender.

  “Get them out of here. The Crew is on its way.”

  “What?” Sierra cried.

  “Come on,” Lucas ordered. He pushed into the rain, making for Tango with hurried steps. He removed the Milkor and the bag with its grenades, slid four additional magazines for the M4 into his flak jacket, and then untied Tango and handed Ruby the reins. “Take him with you. I don’t want him hurt.”

  “You’re not coming?” Ruby asked.

  “You’ll never make it unless I can hold them off.”

  She frowned. “I’ll stay too.”

  “Don’t argue. Get out of here now.”

  Sierra grabbed his wet sleeve, her eyes frantic. “Lucas…”

  “Sierra, keep Eve safe. That’s what’s important. Now go.”

  Ruby touched Sierra’s shoulder and led her to Nugget. Lucas couldn’t tell whether the liquid streaming down Sierra’s face was just the rain or not, but decided that it didn’t matter – he had bigger issues to deal with than a budding attraction.

  They untied the animals and leapt into the saddle, and then vanished into the downpour with Colt in the lead as Lucas loaded the Milkor, eyes glued to the gate, where at least twenty riders were jumping over it on horseback, guns in hand.

  Chapter 46

  Lucas slammed the Milkor magazine home, loaded with six grenades, and squinted through the sight at the gunmen. When he estimated them at five hundred yards, he pulled the trigger, launching the first with a whump. It exploded harmlessly about forty yards short of the men, and he adjusted his aim and fired as fast as he could, emptying the weapon by the time the first grenades exploded near the gunmen.

  It was hard to make out in the rain, but a quick glance through his binoculars showed at least ten men and animals down, with the remainder milling on the other side of the gate. Gunfire rattled from their weapons at the bar, but only a few rounds whistled past, most punching harmlessly into the pallets or throwing up splashes of mud, the three-hundred-yard accuracy of the AKs proving to be a critical limitation for the horsemen and a saving grace for Lucas.