The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels)

by Russell Blake

  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.

  Len looked at him strangely. “What’s the joke?”

  Luis realized that he’d allowed himself a smile, and he grew serious as he finished his work. “Nothing. Just remembering a time when I hacked a guy to pieces with this thing.”

  That chilled any further appetite for conversation, and Luis stood and made his way to his horse to get his bedroll, reminding himself that he couldn’t let down his guard. It was obvious to him that Cano had it in for him, but he wasn’t going to give him any excuses to take him on.

  Luis glanced at the hatchet on the ground beside his tent and forced himself not to smile again.

  Chapter 22

  “How’s the leg?” Lucas asked as Colt drove his horse up the steep incline toward the deserted remnants of Los Alamos.

  “Pills are doing their job.”

  It was late morning the second day after the attack by the river, and Colt had announced that they were close – they would arrive at Shangri-La before nightfall. The mood had been excited as the women broke camp, in anticipation of their brutal trek drawing to a close. Earlier that morning they’d negotiated a trail across Diablo Canyon and ridden to the highway bridge that crossed the Rio Grande, and were now entering the town that had been built around the lab that birthed the atomic bomb.

  Around them the ruins of Los Alamos stood like cemetery headstones, the remains of the hamlet a mausoleum for a past that would never return. Fire had ravaged the area, burning many of the wood structures to the foundations, and the only buildings left standing were the old steel-sided government apartments left over from World War II days and the sturdier of the adobe buildings in the center of town. In the distance stood the Los Alamos National Laboratory grounds, and Lucas called out to Colt as he led them toward the facility.

  “Government didn’t try to put up a last-ditch effort to keep the Lab guarded?”

  “Sure, but eventually the food ran out, and the flu got most that starvation didn’t,” Colt explained. “That was the problem the military had – they couldn’t convince soldiers to stay on duty when their families were being slaughtered back home, particularly when the money they were being paid wasn’t worth anything. When the supply lines failed, there was no way to hold the ranks. Some stayed out of a sense of patriotic duty, but they died when they discovered ideology didn’t fill your stomach.”

  “Weird that a top secret security area like this is abandoned.”

  “Not that odd. How would they find people to man it, and how would they feed and pay them? And who’s they? Remember that the idea of a government is a group that provides the population services, which it bills for via taxes. But if everyone’s dead or destitute and the currency is worth nothing, how do you collect anything, or even find anyone to collect it for you?”

  Rather than taking them along the road that led up past the Lab into the forested hills, Colt veered off down a steep path that Lucas hadn’t even noticed from the road. When the rocky way turned a corner and broadened so they could ride two abreast again, Colt continued his sermon.

  “Governments are faceless bureaucrats who took jobs where they got paid more than they were worth for working as little as possible. The faith that people had that they would do something ignored how badly they performed in the regional disasters. Remember that big hurricane in Louisiana? That was a train wreck. Why anyone believed the same morons would manage anything better in a real national emergency beats the hell out of me.”

  Lucas recalled how torn he’d been when he’d abandoned his job in El Paso, but he understood Colt’s sentiment. When the chain of command had broken down, it had become clear that it was every man for himself. In that scenario, staying out of loyalty merely got you killed, because there was nobody watching your back or making sure you were fed or had ammo. He’d felt terrible when he’d packed up his truck and headed for his grandfather’s ranch, but with civilization collapsing around him, there had been no choice but the stark one of life or death.

  “You’ve heard the rumors of underground bases back east and on the west coast?”

  “I’ve heard a million rumors. But nobody’s actually seen one. It’s always the same: they know someone who told them they had, or who knew someone who knew someone.” Colt paused. “I think the biggest shock to the survivors was how much of a con job the semblance of order actually was. The government pretended it had the people’s interests in mind, but it really was all about protecting its cronies while they fleeced the population. That’s why nothing worked the way it should have – not that it would have made much difference.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucas asked.

  “Nobody was actually concerned with doing anything remotely about saving people – it was all about how to suppress rioting and rebellion. They declared martial law, which just made things worse, but they didn’t declare it because it was the right thing to do. They did it because they wanted to protect themselves while they got out of Dodge and to protect their interests. And because everyone was pretending to do their job instead of actually designing responses that would work, none of them actually did work when put to the test.”

  Lucas remembered well the truth of Colt’s observation. It had been almost comedic how disorganized and ineffectual the government had been when the country fell into crisis, how the central management attempts had been horribly conceived and done more harm than good. When faith in the currency disintegrated after the country had been plunged back into the Dark Ages by the flu, the government’s authority had collapsed with it. Most measures had been designed to protect the banks and the elites, and that had become increasingly obvious as forces were deployed to keep mobs from overrunning financial institutions or to cordon off privileged enclaves in D.C. and New York while people died by the millions around them.

  But the flu hadn’t played favorites, bringing down the mighty with the same relentlessness that it felled the poor. Even with the best care, there had been no way to reverse the immunological response that turned a victim’s immune system against the host, and even the richest victims died the same agonizing death.

  “Yeah,” Lucas said. “I’ve always thought the ‘survivor cities’ were BS.”

  “It’s human nature to want to believe somewhere, order was maintained and the trains run on time.”

  “Which is why I’m skeptical about your Shangri-La.”

  “Oh, it’s got its problems. Just like everywhere. Anytime you get a large group together, there are going to be differences of opinion on how to do things. But we’ve been able to get along and build a better world, at least better than other places. It’s not unicorns and marshmallow clouds, but there’s power and water and food, the place is clean and safe, and it’s well supplied.”

  “How is it supplied at all?”

  “Most of it’s self-sufficient. A lot of the equipment came from Los Alamos, so we can make limited quantities of simple drugs like antibiotics. We have gardens and indoor growing areas for the winter mont
hs. Because we’ve got power, we can pump water for irrigation and sanitation.” Colt paused. “You’ll see.”

  “How much further?”

  “A ways.”

  “Cat’s sort of out of the bag now that it’s in the mountains near here, or we won’t be able to get there today,” Sierra said from behind Lucas.

  “Then why ask?” Colt fired back.

  Sierra frowned at Colt’s testiness, but held off on any further questions. After all, the man had been through hell with the snakebite and probably was feeling lousy; his leg was still visibly swollen, albeit less discolored now.

  They entered the canyon, its sides towering on either side, and the rocky terrain steepened as the temperature dropped. Aspen trees climbed the sides of the visible slopes above the canyon top, rising into a sky so blue it seemed painted.

  They continued for an hour and then turned into an even deeper canyon, and stopped to rest at a small lake with shimmering azure water, the air crisp and cool. Ruby helped Lucas with the pressure bandage and inspected Colt’s wound, which was now no longer seeping pus, and they concluded that the infection had diminished to something manageable.

  “They named it Shangri-La partly because of the location,” Colt offered as they patched him up. “The approach from the east is a series of canyons that are easily defendable and that connect together in a sort of natural labyrinth. It would be almost impossible to stumble across it by accident – there are no roads that lead to it, and in the winter it’s completely buried in snow.”

  “What do people do then?” Ruby asked.

  “Stay inside, for the most part. There are some buildings they built out of cinder block, and there’s an underground area and a bunch of caves. The scientist who founded it thought it through pretty well – it can support three hundred people, which is about what we have.”

  “You mentioned power? From solar?” Lucas asked.

  “That and a dam.”

  “A dam?” Ruby said.

  “Yes. Abiquiu Dam. North of here at the base of the mountains. We’ve kept it operating, but just barely. It provides more than enough for our needs.”

  “I would have thought that would be difficult.”

  “We got lucky. One of the survivors was an engineer there. He knew everything there was to know about it. He can repair anything, and our machine shop can create new parts if necessary.”

  “Machine shop?”

  “Sure. There are a lot of skills in our little group. Doctors, scientists, engineers, tradespeople, mechanics. We’ve been pretty selective about who makes the cut.” Colt glanced at his bandage. “Am I going to live another day?”

  “You better. We aren’t there yet,” Lucas said.

  They resumed their journey and further along the long canyon turned up another. The afternoon was growing late when Colt held up a hand and then pointed at the crest on their left.

  “What?” Lucas asked.

  “We’re here. First line of defense. There are four snipers up there who can split a hair at six hundred yards.”

  Lucas squinted against the sunlight and raised a hand to adjust his hat. Colt shook his head.

  “Keep your hands where they can be seen, and don’t make any sudden moves. That goes for the rest of you.” Colt cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, “Permission to enter!”

  His voice echoed off the sheer stone canyon walls, reverberating until the sound faded to nothingness.

  A voice answered from above. “Password?”

  “Goldilocks.”

  Silence greeted Colt’s cry, and then the voice answered, “You can pass. They’re waiting for you.” A figure rose from the crest, dressed in camouflage that blended with the surrounding foliage, and waved. Colt waved back and spurred his horse forward.

  “Won’t be long now,” he called over his shoulder. Lucas and Sierra exchanged a glance and followed, Tarak and Ruby trailing them with Jax in tow.

  Colt led them up a steep trail carved into the side of the canyon, the path no more than three feet wide, and then they emerged onto a rise with green aspen shimmering in the wind. They stopped beside Colt and took in the sight below them – a long valley that stretched at least ten miles, narrowing in places like a voluptuous woman’s waist. Beyond the farthest gap was a compound of white buildings in a valley with a creek running through it, with fields of tall grass on either side, a windmill spinning dizzily atop a steel tower beside the largest building, and well-trodden paths leading everywhere with scores of people on them, no bigger than ants from their high vantage point.

  Sierra pressed closer to Tango and Lucas, and when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Is that–”

  The peal of a bell reached them from across the five or six miles between the gap and their position, and a half dozen riders emerged from a structure and galloped toward them, tiny as miniature toy soldiers in the distance.

  Colt grinned and turned to the women, a triumphant expression on his face.

  “Looks like they radioed ahead. This is a big day for everyone involved – and it’s been a long time coming. Everybody…welcome to Shangri-La.”

  Chapter 23

  The riders met the newcomers halfway across the first stretch of valley, the creek burbling blue down the middle. Colt waved as they drew near, and the lead rider waved back. As he approached, they could see he had white hair worn longish around his ears beneath a leather cowboy hat, and a neatly trimmed silver beard. He pulled up beside Colt and offered his hand.

  “Congratulations, my friend. A job well done,” he said in a refined voice. Lucas caught a slight British accent beneath his crisp diction.

  Colt flushed at the praise and then turned to the group. “Everyone, this is the founder of Shangri-La and the reason we’re all here: Dr. Elliot Barnes.”

  Elliot grimaced at the introduction. “Sounds far more grandiose than it is. Chief bottle washer’s more like it.”

  The doctor greeted each member of the party with a nod, but the entire time he remained focused on Eve. He smiled at the little girl, his blue eyes twinkling above ruddy cheeks.

  “Ah, and this must be Eve,” he said. “A veritable angel.”

  “That she is,” Sierra assured him.

  He tore his attention from Eve and looked Sierra over. “You must be her caregiver; Sierra, is that right? Jacob’s description of you hardly did you justice.”

  Sierra nodded, a smile lighting her face. Elliot held out a hand to Lucas next. “You’re Lucas, I do believe? We owe you a considerable debt for rescuing them and keeping them safe. Eddie told us your story before he…before he went dark.”

  It was Lucas’s turn to deflect compliments. “Somebody had to do it.”

  Elliot nodded, taking Lucas’s measure. “Yes, well, you did, and that’s what counts.” He looked at Ruby. “And you, gentle woman, were also instrumental, I assume by your presence in this rarified group?”

  “I did what I could.”

  Colt nodded. “Her name’s Ruby. She’s a computer wiz and a healer with herbs.”

  “Computers, eh? Well, we have more than a few of those.”

  “You do?” Ruby exclaimed.

  “Oh, of course. Hard to do complex work without them, you know.” Elliot shifted his scrutiny to Tarak. “And this is the representative of the Apache nation?” he said, more a statement than question.

  “Tarak,” Colt confirmed.

  Elliot eyed the guide. “We’re readying your payment. You are our honored guest this evening and are invited to our celebratory feast. When you get back to your territory, be sure to thank your council for their cooperation in this matter. I’m sorry you lost a man. It’s never easy.”

  Tarak nodded wordlessly.

  Elliot twisted to his fellow riders. “I’m sorry. In my excitement I neglected to introduce my colleagues.” He indicated the man to his right. “This is Arnold Sheer. He’s our head of security. And this is Michael Bailey, my second-in-command.” The pair tipped the brims
of their hats in unison. “Beside them are Toby, Ken, and Richard, our operations directors – they’re actually the ones who keep things running, not me.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Toby said, and the others nodded.

  “Let’s get you to the compound so you can get oriented and then rest. This must have been grueling. I can only imagine how hard it’s been.”

  “If you have hot water, I’d sell my soul for a bath,” Ruby said.

  “Of course we do. Solar heaters, courtesy of Los Alamos. I think we can arrange something bearable.”

  Lucas shifted in his saddle. “You’re a medical doctor?” he asked.

  “Well, yes, but mainly research. Been quite some time since I saw patients. Why?”

  “Your man here got bit by a rattler, and his leg’s something of a mess. Got him on antibiotics, but he needs a checkup.”

  “Good Lord. That’s right. Our fellow in Albuquerque mentioned something about that.”

  “It’s getting better,” Colt said.

  “Sarah will look you over first thing.”

  Colt made a face. “Sarah’s the camp doc. The butcher, they call her.”

  “Nonsense. The woman’s a national treasure.”

  “Not really generous with the pain meds, is she?” Colt countered.

  “I’ll ensure she’s less parsimonious in your case,” said Elliot, with another infectious grin. “Now come. Everyone’s anxious to meet you.”

  They followed the riders across the grass-covered expanse through a gap between a pair of small peaks. When they arrived at the compound, a crowd had already formed: healthy-looking men and women, their skin bronzed from the sun, most Lucas’s age or younger. Lucas’s party dismounted, and several young men approached and took their reins.

  “See to it that these animals receive our platinum treatment,” Elliot instructed. “They’ve done a noble job.” He turned to the assembly and executed a small bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, our covenant to make the world livable again is nearly a reality. Our prayers have been answered, and our hope for the future has been delivered to us by these fine men and women.” Elliot introduced Lucas, Sierra, and Ruby. “They’ve ridden countless miles and been through the mill, so they’re to be afforded every courtesy.” Elliot turned to them next. “We’ll show you to your quarters, and someone will explain how everything works. Get cleaned up, and then eat your fill and catch up on your rest. I imagine you’re knackered, as they used to say in the old country.”