Eli stroked his beard as he considered his response. He grunted and held up his cup. “You want some moonshine?”
Sierra shook her head, and Lucas did as well. “No, thanks.”
“Ned?” Eli asked. Ned rose wordlessly and rematerialized a few minutes later with a jug. He poured a stream of amber into the old man’s cup and recorked the container, and then set it by his side and sat back down.
Eli took an appreciative sip and smacked his lips. “Don’t that just beat all. Whoo. Feel like a new man on that. Yessirree.”
“You were saying, about the children?” Sierra prodded.
“We found the bodies of the adults and a few of the young’uns. My grandson, for instance, shot twice, execution style. Best we could figure it was ’cause he put up a fight – he was older than your boy.”
“But they didn’t kill everyone?”
“We didn’t find all the bodies, if that’s what you mean.”
“My son? Tim?”
“Nope.”
Sierra eyed Lucas. “So he is alive. I told you. I knew it!” she said.
Eli fiddled with his cup. “Well. Could be.”
“Where did they take them?”
“Don’t know. I mean, probably Alexandria, but there’s no way of knowin’ for sure.”
“You never went after them?”
He shook his head. “Lost my foot to a snake the week after the massacre. I’m in no shape to go anywhere, much less into Crew territory. Besides, they shoot anyone from this side of the river on sight.”
“Why would they take the children?” she asked.
“The girls? Easy to figure that one out. Now, the boys, that’s a different story. Best we can figure, they probably have ’em workin’ the cane.”
Lucas frowned. “The cane?”
Ned nodded. “Sugar cane. They got a rum plant there. There’s a big demand for cheap rum, but it’s backbreakin’ work harvestin’ it and such.”
Sierra’s face fell. “They use them as slave labor?”
Eli stared into the fire like it held the answer to her question. “We heard rumors before they wiped us out. But that’s all they were. Stories.” The old man raised his head again to Sierra. “Where you been holed up all this time? Been, what, year and a half, at least, since they hit Amy’s place…”
“I was in Lubbock.”
Eli grunted. “Crew territory.”
“That’s right.”
“How was it?”
Sierra was silent for a moment. “Some places have it harder,” she said. “All in all, somewhere south of horrible and north of hell.”
That drew a cackle and another swig from the cup. “Seems like we never learn, do we?”
“How’s that?” Sierra asked, not understanding.
“Before the virus, we had a bunch of liars pretendin’ to care about us, but doin’ not much besides robbin’ us blind and stickin’ our asses in jail at the drop of a hat, usin’ us for slave labor, just like the old chain gang days. Mother Nature wipes the slate clean, and we got a different bunch doin’ basically the same thing. Makes you wonder, don’t it? Not much has changed. I was born dirt poor, worked my whole life, and got nothin’ to show for it, just like my daddy and his daddy before him.”
“What did you do?”
“Anythin’ I could. Sharecroppin’ like my daddy. Worked on a tug crew. Did my share of rig work till I got too old for it. Fixed lawn mowers, cars, refrigerators. You name it.” He looked at Lucas. “How ’bout you, young feller?”
“I was a lawman.”
He nodded slowly. “That figures. Didn’t take you for a banker or a doctor. But you look like you can handle yourself.” He took a pull on his drink. “Heard shootin’ earlier down by the river. That you?”
Sierra nodded. “Crew patrol.”
“You come over on a skiff?”
Lucas answered. “They shot it up pretty good.”
Eli took in Lucas’s face, the deep tan, the dusting of beard, the steel gray eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Goin’ back in the mornin’?”
“Probably,” Lucas allowed.
“Headed Alexandria way?”
“Maybe.” Lucas gave Eli a hint of a smile. “Always wanted to see how they make rum.”
Eli laughed, the sound dry. “Well, you got some balls on you, I’ll give you that.” He tapped on the jug and held his cup aloft. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”
Lucas shook his head. “My grandfather used to make white lightning, but I never warmed up to it. Not my thing.”
“Put hair on your chest. Not that you strike me as no choirboy.”
“Just never got the taste for it, is all.”
Eli shrugged. “Suit yourself. More for me.”
“Think we’ll have any problem getting back across?” Sierra asked.
“Dunno. Never tried. But if I was to give it a shot, I’d want to get over before sunup. No point makin’ it easy for ’em, is there?”
“Do they patrol the water? With boats?” Lucas asked.
“Those lazy bastards? Nah. No way they’d break a sweat rowin’. Easier to watch the bridge and patrol the roads.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t suppose you have an alarm clock.”
Eli’s eyes danced in the flames. “I’m an early riser.”
“You mind waking us?” Sierra asked.
“No problem. You’re welcome to take some stew, too. Should keep another day or so.”
Sierra swallowed hard. “Um, that’s very generous of you.”
“Don’t worry. We salt it before we cure the meat. You won’t get sick.” He looked at Ned and Frisco and smiled, revealing nothing but gums. “At least, not most of the time.”
“That’s mighty kind,” Lucas said. “Let’s see how we feel tomorrow.”
They continued picking the men’s brains for information on Alexandria, but quickly realized they had nothing material to add to what Eli had shared. Frisco had been to the city before the collapse, so was able to give them rough directions, but beyond that they would have to rely on their wits and Lucas’s compass.
The men retired one by one, the moonshine obviously an effective sleeping agent. Frisco announced he’d take the first watch and strode off toward the gate with his rifle and a canteen of water.
As the fire died down, Eli showed them to an area inside the house where they could sleep, and fetched a thick blanket to use as padding on the hardwood floor.
“Sorry. We don’t get a lot of guests overnightin’,” he said.
“This is great,” Sierra said.
“Where do you get your water?” Lucas asked.
“Collect it in barrels when it rains, boil river water when it doesn’t. But this time of year, it rains a fair amount.”
“Can we top off our canteens before we leave?”
“Be my guest.”
Lucas lowered himself onto the blanket and removed his hat. He looked up at the older man. “Thanks for the hospitality, Eli. Kind of you.”
“Nah. It’s nothin’,” he said.
“You short of anything? Got some extra ammo I’ve got no use for,” Lucas tried.
Eli waved the offer away. “Mostly use bows to hunt. Been savin’ the bullets fer bigger game. We’re fixed up fine.”
“You sure? Got some 5.56mm and 9mm. It’s yours if you want it. Just say the word.”
He appraised Lucas and then turned to Sierra. “You keep it. Sounds like you’ll put it to good use where you’re headed. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” He hesitated. “Where’s your boat?”
“Down by the oil rig plant.”
Eli nodded. “You should be okay on the road before dawn. Ain’t too far.”
“You have raiders and scavengers here too? Even with the virus?” Sierra asked.
“Little lady, what we got is human nature. And something like this brings out the worst in folks, even the good ones. So yes, we got our share of cutthroats working the roads. Just watch yourself and you sho
uld be fine first thing, though. They like to sleep in, generally speakin’. That life don’t attract the hard workin’.”
Eli limped off to the sleeping quarters, leaving them to themselves. The interior of the house was dark except for the glow from the starlight outside that filtered through a nearby window. Sierra scooted closer to Lucas and gave him a kiss, which he returned. When she pulled away, her eyes were bright.
“I told you he was alive.”
Lucas closed his eyes and nodded. “That you did.”
“We’re going to do this, aren’t we?”
“If it can be done, we will.”
“You’ll find a way.”
He sighed, amazed at her faith in him, and smiled in the dark.
“One way or another.”
Chapter 34
New Orleans, Louisiana
Snake’s subordinate stood staring at his boots as he delivered his report. Zach sat nearby with Whitely, who’d arrived two days before to explain why the vaccine effort had stalled yet again and to assist Snake in dealing with Zach on the refinery issue. Snake didn’t understand most of the reasons Zach had given for why the Illuminati hadn’t yet gotten the refinery operating, and Whitely was his technical expert, chartered with negotiating with Zach and Lassiter to arrange for the plant to be brought online.
“The transmission came in last evening. The woman was spotted near Vicksburg, in a boat on the Mississippi,” the subordinate said.
“Why am I only hearing about it now?”
“It was received by Houston late in the day. There was nobody available to make a call on whether to disturb you until this morning.”
Snake’s eyes hardened. “Disturb me? I left orders that anything related to the woman was of top importance.”
“The radio operator received the information and tried to track down the security chief for that region, but he couldn’t find him until a few hours ago. He received the report at five a.m. He radioed us at six, after verifying a few details.”
“Only two hours ago,” Whitely said. “Continue.”
“They opened fire on the boat but were unable to stop it. It’s possible that it was hit multiple times, but they lost it once it was out of range.”
“So she was within reach and they flubbed it?” Snake growled.
Whitely shook his head. “Sounds like they did what they could. Remember we’re talking a field patrol with AKs. In the middle of nowhere. Can’t really expect much more than what they managed.” Whitely ignored Snake’s obvious agitation and continued. “A better question is why there, why now?”
“Who cares?” Snake snapped.
The subordinate cleared his throat. “They said the boat appeared to be heading to the Mississippi side.”
Zach spoke for the first time. “But why? Why travel from Springfield to Mississippi – a state overrun with the virus? That’s a death sentence. Why do it willingly? It’s common knowledge.”
Whitely drummed his fingers. “Must be some damn good reason.” He stood. “I need to use the radio and talk to my people in Houston, see what we have on the woman’s background.”
Whitely hurried from the room and returned twenty minutes later with a deep frown.
“Well?” Snake demanded.
“Her son was in a compound on the Mississippi side, near Vicksburg. Apparently we took him prisoner, and he’s working on a plantation in Alexandria.”
Zach nodded. “She’s after her son.” He threw up his hands at Whitely. “Why are we only now getting this information?”
Whitely shrugged. “I can’t be everywhere at once. I have nothing to do with this new effort to find the woman. I’ve got my hands full with the vaccine development in Lubbock, our pharmaceutical manufacturing, and security in Texas – and now, the refinery issue, which we’re making precious little progress on, incidentally.”
Snake nodded slowly. “It’s not Whitely’s fault. But I’m going to make it his problem now.” He shifted his focus to Whitely. “I want you to personally head up the effort to capture her. She’s our best lead to where Shangri-La has relocated. I want her taken alive.”
“So you want me to drop everything and focus on this?” Whitely asked, his tone even.
“No, I want you to add this to your pile.”
“The refinery. The vaccine. Security. And now this as well,” Whitely said quietly. “I’m good, Snake, but I’m not superhuman. If I’m to prioritize this, the others will have to wait.”
Snake waved a hand. “I want you to go to Alexandria. Set a trap.” Snake looked to Zach. “And Zach, I want you to go with him and help. We can’t let this woman get away.”
“We don’t know that she’ll show up in Alexandria,” Zach said. “She wasn’t headed there on the river, that’s for sure.”
“It’s the best we have. Whitely? Arrange for a team to head to Vicksburg, too. See what they can find on the other side of the river.”
Whitely stiffened. “That’s a death sentence for whoever goes, and we both know it. You’re not going to find any takers.”
“Dammit, Whitely, stop throwing up roadblocks and figure this out,” Snake screamed. “Do whatever you need to do, but I want this woman taken alive. Do you read me?”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
Snake’s voice quieted to a dangerous purr. “If you can’t manage this, I’ll find someone else who can.”
“I didn’t say that. I pointed out that you can’t expect anyone to sign up for a suicide mission into virus territory. The men are loyal, but nobody will voluntarily put a gun to their head and pull the trigger. I’d expect that anyone we order over to that side will simply disappear.”
Zach nodded. “He’s right.”
Snake’s expression turned even more sour. “I don’t want to argue. I want you to fix this, Whitely.” He glowered at Zach. “And I want you to see to it that he gets everything he needs.”
“That’s not really what I’m here for,” Zach observed.
“You’re here to help me and advise me. To ensure we locate the Shangri-La survivors and kill them. This is our only hope of doing that. Am I missing something? Find the woman, drag the truth out of her, and your problem’s solved. Seems clear to me.”
Zach seemed about to protest, but apparently thought better of it. “How far is it to Alexandria?”
“About a hundred and seventy miles,” Whitely said.
“Then it will be at least four or five days.”
Whitely exhaled. “No. We can have fresh horses waiting along the way, like the Pony Express. We can go faster and cover more like eighty miles a day instead of thirty or forty.”
Snake nodded. “Then do it. Make the calls. Whatever it takes, am I clear?”
“She may not show up,” Whitely warned again.
“I’m tired of discussing possibilities. Do as I say. Now.”
Whitely gave a small shrug and made for the door. Zach rose and followed the older man. “I’ll need to use the radio before we go. I have to keep Lassiter abreast of developments.”
Snake frowned. “Whatever. Just don’t stall. If she shows in Alexandria and you weren’t there because of delays, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“We should radio ahead so they’re on alert,” Zach said to Whitely as they left Snake’s chambers.
“No. Worst thing that can happen is we bring more people into this than already know. We tell those clods in Alexandria what’s going on, and they’ll probably blow it. These aren’t the best or the brightest, in case you haven’t noticed by now.”
“And yet you work with them?” Zach asked, studying Whitely’s profile.
“They’re the only game in town, and I like breathing.”
Zach turned away to conceal the smile that traced his lips. “Good call.”
Chapter 35
Fog hung over the river road as Lucas and Sierra made their way back to the oil rig plant, the going awkward in the predawn. When they reached the boat, there was no sign of it hav
ing been disturbed, and he wasted no time in pushing it down the slope and into the water.
“Hold the bow,” he said to Sierra, handing her the bow line as he climbed into the craft to inspect the branch with which he’d plugged the leak. A quick look showed it to be firmly in place with only a few drops of water oozing from the edges, and he nodded in approval. “Push off and hop in. I’ll do the rest,” he whispered, and Sierra did as asked and clambered into the boat.
The trip back to Arkansas was less exciting than the row from its shore had been. The only sound other than the rush of the water was the methodical splash of the oars. The sky was aflame over Mississippi as they reached the bank and leapt from the skiff, Lucas pausing to kick the branch from the bullet hole before pushing the boat into the current to meet its fate.
They hiked for two hours along the bank before arriving at the scattering of homes by the river, and Lucas slowed as he neared the field’s wooden gate, which he’d closed when they’d left, but which now stood open. Sierra whispered to him, “What is it?”
“Someone’s been here.”
Lucas slid the M4 strap from his shoulder and flicked off the safety, and then snicked for his horse as he strode toward the opening. A snort followed by a whinny greeted him from the trees, and Tango trotted into view, apparently none the worse for wear. Lucas patted the stallion’s neck as his eyes scanned the field and whispered to him, “Where’s Nugget?”
“Good question,” Sierra said, pointing to the muddy ground, where a hoofprint led away from the field. “Maybe she got spooked and forced the gate open? Looks pretty flimsy.”
Lucas studied the rope that looped over a fence post as its crude closure mechanism and shook his head, hand tightening on the rifle grip. “No. Someone opened it.”
“But Tango’s still here.”
“Tango wouldn’t have let anyone take him.” He eyed the big stallion. “Let’s see if the saddles are still here. I hid them pretty well, so I hope they are.”
He hurried to the hiding place and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt in the bushes. The saddlebags and saddles were right where he’d left them. Lucas hoisted his and strapped it onto Tango, and then leapt onto the animal’s back.
The Day After Never (Book 4): Retribution Page 18
