“Oh, sorry, of course.”
Ruby snagged a roll of plastic-wrapped paper from one of her sealable rubber tubs and made for the trees, mulling over Sierra’s questions and wondering if she’d been too harsh with the younger woman. She hadn’t meant to be, but she was out of her comfort zone and too old to pretend she wasn’t.
That the woman hadn’t figured out that she didn’t stand a chance on her own was dangerous – almost delusional. The first thing you learned in a crisis was that, unless you had taken extraordinary steps like Ruby had, there was strength in numbers. She’d witnessed firsthand how the rules went out the window when survival was at stake, and if you appeared to be prosperous or well-equipped, it was only a matter of time before someone came for your stuff. If you were alone, unless you were in a mission-designed bunker like hers, eventually you’d be overpowered by the desperate. Even in a small town like Loving, where everyone had known each other, there had come a time when those who’d failed to plan ahead had turned on their neighbors, and the blustering men with the fanciest weapons and the newest camo gear had been the first to be attacked, their relative wealth a beacon for those on the edge.
Hal and Lucas had survived because they, like Ruby, kept a low profile, and Hal had a reputation as both capable and dangerous. Shortly after Lucas had shown up from El Paso in his loaded truck, a group of ten strangers had assaulted the ranch, and between Hal and Lucas, half of them had paid for the foolhardy effort with their lives. Word had quickly spread, and the ranch had remained untroubled after that; partly because neither man advertised how well prepared the place was for long-term survival, and partly because after the first wave of the desperate in the weeks after the collapse, those who hadn’t figured out how to live off the land had perished, leaving only those who could. Loving was no different than most places she’d heard about, and after the first year it had settled into the delicate equilibrium that had been its peaceful existence – until it had been razed.
She shook off the feeling of unease her discussion with Sierra had brought about and sighed.
“No guarantees, indeed,” she whispered, and made a mental note to better conceal the wire leading up the tree trunk to the solar panels, just in case.
Chapter 10
Lucas arrived in Mentone shortly after sunup and made straight for the mayor’s place. He secured Tango and waved away a swarm of flies that assaulted him as he walked to the entrance. Stepping up onto the small porch, he knocked on the double doors. A voice called out from inside, and shortly afterward one of the guards swung the right one open and eyed Lucas groggily.
“Yeah?”
“You open for trading?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Got to hit the trail. You open or not?”
The mayor’s voice boomed from the depths of the building. “What is it?”
“Give me a minute,” the guard said, and shut the heavy wooden slab in Lucas’s face.
Lucas waited patiently, and a few minutes later the door reopened and the mayor glowered at him. “This better be good.”
“Need to get some supplies.”
The Raider nodded. “Got pretty near anything you could want.” He studied Lucas. “Provided you got enough to cover it.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Lucas said.
The mayor eyed his M4A1s assault rifle. “Nice piece. Especially the flash suppressor. Don’t see those every day. Where’d you get it?”
Lucas’s eyes were unsmiling. “Santa.”
“Worth a lot.”
“Worth more to me.”
“What are you looking for?”
“5.56 ammo. If you have any grenades, always a demand for those. Maybe a spare plate carrier or vest.”
The mayor grunted. “Grenades? Planning on starting a war?”
“Dangerous world out there.”
The mayor laughed and then was seized by a coughing fit, the sound gurgly and unhealthy, like swatting a wet blanket with a baseball bat. Lucas waited until it passed, and then the Raider nodded. “I knew I liked you last night. Might as well come on in. Let’s see what I can find for you.”
Lucas nodded and stepped inside. “My horse okay there?”
“Safe as the womb when you’re in my place.” The mayor eyed his M4 again. “What you got to trade?”
“Some pistols. Couple AKs. Some mags of 7.62 ball. And that ammo from last night.”
The Raider grunted. “That’s a good start.”
“Let’s look at what you have,” Lucas said.
The mayor escorted him into the back of the bar under the watchful scrutiny of the guards. When they reached the door that led to the back office, the gunman there extended his hand. “Rifle stays with me.”
“I’m not here to drink,” Lucas observed.
“Rules.”
Lucas looked to the mayor, who shrugged. “You’ll get it back.”
“I better.”
“Pistol too,” the gunman said.
Lucas unholstered the Kimber and set it on the table next to the meaty guard. The mayor eyed it without comment – merely a nod – and then led Lucas into the office and then through another door into a back room that would have been the envy of many SWAT teams. Assault rifles lined the walls, metal ammo cans rose in stacks from the baseboards, and a pile of camouflage clothing sat in the center of the room.
Lucas let out an appreciative low whistle, and the mayor grinned. “Kid in a candy store, huh?”
“Can’t afford to stay in here too long,” Lucas agreed. “Walk out broke.”
“You want grenades, I got these,” the Raider said, showing Lucas a crate with several dozen green M67 fragmentation grenades. “How many you in the market for?”
“Depends on the price.”
The mayor named a figure in ammunition, and Lucas shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. I can maybe take…four.”
“Pick your favorites.”
Lucas did, and then his eye was attracted by an oversized weapon in a corner with a rotary magazine, like a shoulder-fired revolver on steroids. He walked over to it and paused, admiring the weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup. Milkor MGL 40mm grenade launcher. Holds six. Fires ’em as fast as you can pull the trigger, up to four hundred yards.”
“How many rounds you have for it?”
The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “Why? I thought you were on a budget?”
“Never hurts to ask, does it?”
“Got a dozen.”
“How much you want?”
Lucas haggled for ten minutes, but in the end he agreed to a price that was probably double what the grenade launcher and projectiles were actually worth, provided that the mayor threw in a vest and the four hand grenades. The launcher would seriously increase his defensive capabilities from rifle distance, which could be the difference between life and death in an ugly pinch, he rationalized. Reluctant as he was to part with another gold maple leaf, he was willing to do so as a form of insurance. Armed with a dozen frag grenades, at that distance he could hold off a battalion and inflict serious damage almost out of range of many of the rifles in everyday use.
Lucas approached the vests almost as an afterthought and took his time sorting through them, studying the stitching and pockets for wear, evaluating the fastenings and workmanship. He concealed the increase in his breathing when he spotted the black stylized eagle and tried the vest on, fingers feeling for the tiny USB drive without appearing to.
He felt a small bump, almost imperceptible, and turned to the mayor. “This one will do.”
“Not as nice as yours, but still, a good choice.”
“Little blood on the front plate carrier compartment,” Lucas noted.
“Slightly used. Prior owner didn’t clean it.” The mayor looked the vest over. “You can choose a different one if it’s a problem.”
“Nah. This will do.”
“You got the coin?”
“Yes.”
>
Lucas slipped one of the maple leafs from his pocket and handed it to the Raider, who looked it over with a practiced eye and then bit it and studied the marks before nodding. “Where are the AKs?”
“Saddlebags, along with the magazines and the pistols.”
“Let’s go get ’em.”
They retraced their steps, and Lucas reclaimed his weapons. The guard’s eyebrows rose when he saw the Milkor, but he said nothing. The mayor walked with Lucas out to where Tango was waiting patiently, and Lucas unpacked the rifles and magazines. The mayor made a face when he saw the condition of the guns.
“You use these to dig a ditch or something?”
“They could use a cleaning,” Lucas agreed. “But they work.”
“Sure you don’t want to do a deal for your M4 or your Kimber?” the mayor tried again.
“Not interested. Sentimental value.”
The Raider looked him up and down. “Didn’t strike me as the type.”
Lucas shrugged. “Never know.”
The burly guard took the magazines and guns inside, and Lucas packed his new acquisitions into his saddlebags. When he was finished, he tipped his hat brim. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Likewise. Enjoy the new toys.”
“More than anyone on the receiving end.”
“Want a bottle for the road?”
“Little early for me.”
“Fair enough.”
The mayor ambled back into the building as Lucas swung into the saddle and urged Tango onto the road out of town. The man watched him from the doorway, and when Lucas was near the camp area, twisted his head and called out, “Boyd, ride after him, but keep your distance. When he stops to rest, take him out and bring me his gear. And search him thoroughly – bastard’s got more gold. I can smell it on him.”
Boyd, the largest of the three men, nodded. “Might take all day.”
“Once he’s out of the city limits, he’s fair game, far as I’m concerned.”
Boyd, who had disarmed Lucas at the door, nodded. “Looks like he knows how to use that M4. Thing’s clean.”
“Take your Armalite. He’ll never know what hit him.”
Boyd grinned. The AR-50A1 .50-caliber rifle was notoriously deadly and had earned a reputation as a breathtakingly effective sniper rifle in the right hands. Boyd was ex-military and accurate with the gun up to a thousand yards for a human-sized stationary target, but would try for a kill shot at closer to five hundred – almost a third of a mile away, which was still an impressive distance absent modern conveniences like laser range finders and ballistic computers.
“Fish in a barrel,” Boyd said, and the men laughed. Lucas would be safe until near the highway, and then the Raider would make short work of him.
“Give him a decent lead. No rush,” the mayor instructed.
“Roger that,” Boyd said, and went in search of his horse while his boss watched Lucas disappear into the scrub.
Chapter 11
The horizon swam from heat waves rising off the desert as Doug peered through the guard station telescope at an approaching group of riders still a half mile off. He caught sight of the pair in the lead and called behind him to the trading post building.
“Duke! We got us a potential situation.”
Duke appeared in the doorway. “What is it?”
“Visitors. About fifteen riders. Look pretty hard.”
“Crap. Bolt the gate.” Duke yelled into the interior of the building, “Aaron, Slim, get your asses out here, and come hard. We got company!”
His men came at a run, armed to the teeth, and Duke ducked back inside to get his assault rifle and don his flak vest. After Lucas’s warning about the cartel, he’d been on edge, but had decided to remain open – if he’d closed up shop, it would have simply delayed the inevitable, assuming the Locos were still looking for the woman.
They moved to the sandbagged guard stations on either side of the iron gate and waited as the riders neared, dust trailing behind them like beige smoke. When the group was no more than fifty yards away, the lead rider raised his hand, signaling his men to stop, and turned to a formidable-looking stranger on his right, his face covered in prison ink.
Luis called out to Duke, “Open up.”
Duke shook his head. “Sorry. We’re closed.”
“You’re open now,” Cano yelled.
“Not how it works.”
“Open the gate,” Cano ordered.
“You boys must be hard a hearing. I said we’re closed. Come back some other time.”
“You’re playing with fire,” Luis warned.
“You come to my place and start threatening me, you’re gonna find out right quick that you’re not bulletproof. Friendly word of warning,” Duke said.
“We’re looking for someone,” Cano snarled.
“Try a lonely hearts club.”
Aaron couldn’t help but snicker, and the big Crew boss caught it. He eyed Duke’s men as though to melt them with the intensity of his glare.
“Let one of us come in and verify you’re not hiding them,” Luis tried.
“Why would I let you dictate terms to me? I’m curious. ’Cause I got enough rounds to mow you all down without breaking a sweat, if I want. What am I missing?” Duke asked.
“What you’re missing is we have a good working relationship, Duke. We don’t want a fight. We just need to cross your place off our list, and then we’ll move on,” Luis said.
“You think you’ve got the right to show up whenever you want and search my place? Have you lost your frigging mind?”
“I’m not telling you, Duke,” Luis tried. “I’m asking.”
“Funny way of going about it.”
“Been a long ride.”
“Might want to remember you’re a long way from home out here,” Duke warned.
“Let my man here come in and look around. Won’t take too long.”
Duke appeared to consider the request. “Gonna cost you.”
“What do you want?”
After a minute of negotiation, Duke was ten magazines of ammunition richer, and Slim was opening the gate. Cano handed his rifle and pistol to Luis and rode forward, his body language relaxed, his posture easy. When he was at the gate, Duke stepped from behind the sandbags and walked toward him. “Keep a bead on him, Aaron. He so much as farts, drill him,” Duke instructed.
Aaron nodded, his AR-15 pointed at the newcomer.
“Gonna have to search you, make sure you aren’t carrying,” Duke said.
“You saw me hand over my weapons.”
“I have trust issues.”
Cano stared off at a point a thousand miles past Duke’s shoulder. “Get it over with.”
“Off the horse.”
Cano frowned but complied and put his hands in the air while Duke frisked him. When he was done, Duke stepped away. “Now why don’t you tell me who you’re looking for, and then I can tell you that they’re not here, and we can go about our business? Little hot for all the theatrics, don’t you think?”
“A woman. Wounded. Has a tattoo on her arm. Like this,” Cano said, tapping the eye of Providence inked on his forehead. “You seen her?”
“Don’t run that kinda place, pardner.”
“Let me look around and make sure.”
Duke shrugged. “Suit yourself. But make it quick. You’re cutting into my nap time.”
Cano looked like he was going to take a swing at Duke. “Got quite a mouth on you.”
“You want to get this over with or butt heads?”
Cano eyed the buildings. “This is it?”
“You’re looking at it.”
Duke led the Crew boss through the structures, and within five minutes, they were back at the gate. Neither had spoken the entire time. When they reached Cano’s horse, he turned to Duke.
“Broad daylight out. Why are you closed?”
“We heard about the town up north getting wiped out. Bad for business. Thought we might want t
o relocate.” Duke eyed the gothic script ringing the man’s skull. “You know anything about that?”
Cano looked away. “I’m not from around here.”
“Yeah. I’d remember you.” Duke paused. “What do you want this woman for, anyway?”
“That’s between me and her.”
“Reason I ask is, I talk to a lot of people. Nature of the biz.”
“She stole something of mine. I want it back.” Cano looked up at Duke’s men. “I’m willing to pay for any information.”
“Yeah? How much?” Duke asked.
“A lot.”
“That’s not getting me very excited.”
“We just handed you three hundred rounds of ammo to walk through your dump for five minutes. Trust me when I say I’ll pay as much as it takes.”
“Dump?”
“Keep it in mind. I’m serious. Whatever it takes. You can name your price.”
“I can dream pretty big.”
“I’ll bet.”
“How do I get in touch with you if I hear anything?”
“I’m monitoring channel 12.” Cano glanced at the building. “I see by your antenna you have a radio.”
“Who do I ask for?”
“Cano. I’m staying in Pecos, but I’ve got a handheld.”
“Good to know.”
Cano’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t seen her?”
“How many times do I have to say it?” Duke asked, annoyance in his voice.
Cano froze for only a moment and then mounted his horse. When he spoke, his words were a hiss. “I find out you lied to me, I won’t be happy.”
“I don’t have a reputation for lying.”
Cano’s eyes settled on Duke. “Neither do I.”
Duke watched as Cano joined the riders and reclaimed his weapons. Luis spun his horse and yelled something, and the men rode off, the ground shaking from the pounding of their hooves. When they were out of sight, Duke set his AR-15 down and looked at the building.
“Seemed like a nice fella,” he said. Aaron laughed nervously, as did Slim.
“Yeah. Kinda wound a little tight, though,” Doug said.
“Women will do that to you,” Duke agreed, and then yawned. “Keep an eye peeled in case they come back. I don’t trust ’em as far as I can throw ’em.”
The Day After Never (Book 2): Purgatory Road Page 6
