“Looks like we came up empty,” Art said.
“That’s it?” Jeb growled. “We rode halfway across the state, and there’s nothing here? That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to do? There was obviously some kind of attack, and nobody’s left except our suicide in there. What’s your bright idea?” Art fired back.
Jeb shook his head in disgust. “Thanks for nothing. This was a complete waste of time. I should have known better than to believe a word out of your mouth.”
Art turned to Lucas. “Could be they bugged out to the still. At least some of them.”
“Still?” Lucas asked.
“Couple miles east of here, on the Willamette River.”
Jeb snorted. “So your friends are bootlegging scum, too.”
Art set his shoulders. “I’m getting pretty tired of your mouth, boy. You want to do this on your own, say the word.”
“I’d have about as much luck by myself. You’re worthless.”
Art’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? At least I didn’t leave my family for the Chinese, Mr. High and Mighty.”
Jeb bristled and his hand clenched on his rifle as he moved toward the older man, who stood with his chin up, his gaze unflinching. Lucas stepped between them and cut Jeb off. “You want to help your family or get into it with Art? We’re all tired of your BS, Jeb, so either back off and start thinking or we’re done – got it?”
Jeb took a deep breath and glared hate at Art. “That was below the belt, and you know it.”
“Maybe,” Lucas agreed. “But we’ve got bigger problems. Saddle up and let’s find this still.” Lucas looked to Art. “You know the way?”
“I can find it. I helped ’em set it up.”
“Figures,” Jeb grumbled, but he moved toward the horses. Ray and Lucas exchanged a glance and then followed him, Art bringing up the rear.
The still was located in a thick grove at the base of a hill, where senile trees reached to the sky around two small buildings. Lucas signaled for them to stop so he could scope out the area with his binoculars before they closed on it. After a quick perusal, he turned to Art.
“Looks like a rifle barrel sticking out that window on the right. These people know you by sight?”
Art nodded. “Assuming it’s them.”
“Then you ride up there and let them know we’re friendlies.”
Art handed Lucas his gun and spurred his horse forward at a moderate pace. When he was fifty yards from the building, he stopped and gave a slow wave. “It’s me. Art. From Astoria. Anyone in there?”
A long pause, and then the door opened and a man called out, “What the hell are you doing here, you old bandit?”
Art grinned. “That you, Sam?”
A short man wearing a flak vest and a baseball cap stepped from the doorway. “Anyone else would have shot you by now.”
The men hugged, and then Art motioned to the tree line and waved for the others to come. “Got some friends with me.”
“You picked a lousy time to visit.”
“What happened? We went by the compound…”
Sam waited until Lucas and the rest had dismounted to speak. “Near as I can tell, the bikers showed up and took everyone prisoner without a shot fired.” He spit onto the grass by his boots and shook his head. “Damn shame all those years of work went nowhere. Now they’ve got everyone in Salem doing slave duty, far as I know.”
“How’d you dodge it?” Art asked.
“I was here brewing up a batch when it happened. I figured it out when I rode back at the end of the day. No other way it could have played, with no shooting or anything. The only question is how they managed it without a fight.”
Lucas pointed to the roof of the building Sam had come from. “That an antenna?”
Sam nodded. “That’s right.”
“Does the radio work?” Art asked.
“On a day like today with sun, sure. Got a solar panel up top.”
Lucas extended his hand. “Name’s Lucas. I’d be obliged if I could use your transmitter.”
Sam shook his hand and Art introduced the others. When he was done, Sam inclined his head toward the doorway. “Radio’s all yours. The power button’s on the right. You know the frequency you want?”
“I can figure it out.”
Lucas left them, and Art gave Sam a rundown on the situation in Astoria. Sam’s eyes widened when Art described the Chinese invasion, and then his face settled into a frown, which deepened when he finished with Jeb’s family’s story.
“That’s terrible,” Sam said, looking to Jeb. “I’d be about half crazy if those were my girls.”
“Tell me about it,” Jeb agreed.
“We were hoping to get some help,” Art explained. “But sounds like you’re the ones that need it.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Sam said. “The whole world went to crap in a blink.” He paused. “More to crap, I mean.”
Lucas emerged from the building and walked to the men. “I did what I could. Rest is up to them.”
“What now?” Ray asked.
Sam sized Lucas up and seemed to approve of what he saw. He rubbed the sparse beard on his chin and looked him in the eye. “Now that you boys are here, there might be a way we can help each other out.”
“That right?” Lucas said.
Sam nodded. “This is what I’m thinking…”
Chapter 25
Colorado Foothills
Luis called out from his position guarding the trading post gate, and Duke looked up from where he was splitting wood with an axe, sweat coursing down his bare chest in spite of the crisp snap in the spring air.
“One man, quarter mile out.”
Duke hollered for John, who came at a trot with an AR-15 in hand and a cowboy hat pulled low, and threw on a faded lumberjack shirt as he made his way toward the sandbagged guard station beside the gate. Luis raised his assault rifle and looked through the scope for a long beat, and then lowered it slowly and turned toward Duke.
“He’s got a face full of ink. Didn’t you say there was a Crew guy over this way just after we opened?”
“That’s right,” Duke agreed. “Before the winter really hit.”
“Muscular?”
“Right. Bullet head, no neck.”
Luis took another look. “Sounds like our man.”
Duke’s forehead creased. “Can’t believe he hasn’t given up by now. It’s been months.”
“The Crew doesn’t give up. Getting even’s in their blood.”
Duke regarded Luis’s facial tattoos. “Maybe you should get out of sight. We don’t want to give the nice man any ideas about where you got your tats.”
“Think you two can handle this without me?” Luis asked with a smirk.
“We’ll try to muddle through,” John quipped, his attention on the rider approaching at a moderate pace.
“Go into the back, but keep your gun handy,” Duke said. “Although you shouldn’t need it.”
“Famous last words,” Luis said, standing.
John replaced him behind the sandbags, and several minutes later the rider was twenty yards from the gate. Duke opened a hatch in the metal barrier and looked out.
“Howdy,” Dale called. “You open for business?”
“Always,” Duke replied. “Got to leave your weapons at the gate, though.”
“That’s fine,” Dale replied, and dismounted, his AK suspended from his shoulder by a weathered strap.
Duke replaced John, his AR-15 trained on the Crew scout, while the younger man heaved the gate open wide enough for Dale’s horse to make it through and relieved him of his rifle and pistol. Dale led his steed to a water trough in the courtyard, and the animal drank greedily. Duke trailed him and John closed the gate before resuming his position, only now facing inward with his rifle resting easily against one of the sandbags, pointed above their heads.
“Water for the horse is a round. If you want some feed, we can rustle some up for a
couple more,” Duke said.
“He scrounges plenty of scrub on the trail. Lot of green now that spring’s here,” Dale said.
Duke squinted at him. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“That’s right. Stopped in a while back. You’d just opened.”
“Thought so. You settle around here? Haven’t been here since, have you?”
“No on both. Still riding the trail.”
“A hard life.”
“There’s worse.” Dale looked around the courtyard. “Still getting by?”
“Can’t really complain. We see enough traffic to put food on the table, but nobody’s getting rich. And it’s a bit better now that winter’s through. That was brutal.”
“No word on that new settlement?”
Duke didn’t blink. “What settlement?”
“Last time I came through, I was looking for a new place I’d heard about somewhere around here.”
“Sorry. Don’t really remember.” Duke casually massaged a knot in his neck. “You’re still trying to find it after all this time?”
Dale shrugged. “Man’s got to fill his days with something.”
“If you say so. What can we help you with?”
“I need some provisions and a couple magazines for my AK, if you’ve got some in decent condition. And your radio. I’ve got to make a call.”
“I’ve got the mags if you have something to trade for ’em. But negative on the radio. Damn thing broke a couple months ago.”
Dale held Duke’s stare. “I know a fair amount about shortwave sets. Maybe I can fix it.”
“That’s awful kind of you, but we had a guy from down south went through it and is coming back with parts one of these days. Said it’s the power transformer that’s blown. So no fixing that.” Duke paused. “What kind of provisions you looking for? We got dried and cured meat, mostly rabbit and venison. We make our own jerky in a smoker out back. Doesn’t taste too bad if you hold your breath.”
“Good to know. I’ll take some, and the magazines.”
“Come on inside and we can deal.”
Duke led the way into the main building and rounded the counter he’d built from hand-formed brick. He set a couple of curved magazines on the rough surface. “You got rounds for ’em?”
Dale nodded. “I’m set for ammo. How much?”
Duke named a price in rounds. Dale fished in a pouch of his vest and counted out twenty rounds of 5.56mm. Duke inspected each cartridge as Dale tested the magazine springs, which met with his approval. That part of the transaction concluded, Duke walked to a battered metal ice chest and lifted the top. He removed an oversized plastic resealable bag filled with jerky and placed it in front of Dale. “That there’s a pound. How many you want?”
“Just the one. There’s plenty of game around now that the snow’s melting.”
The Crew scout counted out more rounds and hefted the bag. Duke pocketed the bullets and offered a half smile.
“Anything else?” he asked.
Dale looked over at the radio on a metal desk at the far end of the room. “I’ve seen guys misdiagnose radio gear before. It’s rare for transformers to go like that. He might have called it wrong.”
Duke blinked and shook his head. “Not this one. He’s a whiz. He knew exactly what it was.”
“No harm in getting a second opinion.”
“Well, he took the transformer, so there’s nothing to look at. Appreciate it, though. Water for the horse is on me for offering.”
Dale took another look at the transmitter and then backed away from the counter a step. “Do you happen to know where the nearest radio is?”
“I hear they have one down in Santa Fe. Or up in Durango.”
“Those are both long rides. A shame yours is on the blink.”
“I’d love to take your rounds for a call, but not today, pardner.”
Duke followed Dale out to the trough and trailed him as the Crew scout walked his horse back to the gate. Duke pulled the barrier open and climbed into the guard station when John dropped from it, carrying Dale’s weapons. Dale led his horse through the gate, and when he was on the other side, John ejected the magazine and a chambered round from the AK and handed them back to him, and then did the same with his pistol. Dale took his time loading his weapons and climbing into the saddle, paying no attention to Duke or the rifle pointed at Dale’s chest.
“You boys take it easy. Just the pair of you out here?” Dale asked, looking through the gate at the stable beside the trading post.
“No,” Duke answered, but didn’t elaborate. “Safe travels.”
“Yeah. Thanks a million,” Dale said, but the gate dragging shut drowned out his words.
John and Duke watched him ride back to the road, his horse moving with the easy efficiency of an animal accustomed to traveling long distances day after day. John sat back and set his rifle down beside him. “I could take him out with one shot at this range.”
“True. But there’d just be another like him sooner than later. Better the devil you know.”
Duke squinted as the scout disappeared into the distance. “He was really annoyed he couldn’t use the radio. I told him it was broken and to try Santa Fe.”
“Think he believed you?”
Duke grinned. “Not really. But I didn’t give him much choice.”
“It’s a long ride for our friend.”
Dale turned to walk back to the main building and patted the bullets in his pocket. “Tough.”
Chapter 26
Duke powered up the radio and transmitted the coded call signal that the new Shangri-La used on open transmissions that were monitored twenty-four hours a day. He waited for a response, Luis at a table nearby, cleaning a rifle with oil and rags, and when the speakers crackled with the coded acknowledgement, he tuned to the frequency he was directed to, using a primitive substitution cypher.
Elliot’s familiar voice answered when Duke switched to the new frequency and broadcast a greeting.
“Good thing you called. We’ve been trying to reach you for days,” Elliot said.
“Sorry. Batteries have been out. There’s been no sun to recharge them, and they’re taking forever to hold a charge.” Duke hesitated. “We had the same member of your fan club as was looking for you before winter hit just stop in. That’s obviously not good.”
A pause from Elliot preceded his next words. “The same one? You’re sure?”
“He’s unforgettable.”
Another pause. “It doesn’t matter. We’re blown. You need to pack up and return ASAP. We have to relocate.”
“Come again?”
“We heard from your buddy Lucas. There was a leak. They have our position. We’re moving in the next forty-eight hours.”
Duke and Luis exchanged a glance. “Hang on a second.” He turned to Luis. “How soon could we have everything we need packed up?”
“Maybe…three, four hours if we work fast and leave a lot of gear here. Radio, ammo, as many weapons as we can fit on the cart…we’d have to leave most of the perishables.”
“Crap.” Duke paused and spoke again into the transmitter. “The day’s half spent. It’d be nightfall before we can get underway. We can ride for a few hours after dark, but I don’t want to chance breaking an axle, so figure it’ll be two days of pushing before we can get there.”
“Forget the carts. Just bring what you can carry. Speed’s more important than anything you can bring. We’re well outfitted here.”
“It’s that much of a rush?”
“We expect hostiles are already en route.”
The words echoed in the room like a grenade detonating. Duke swallowed hard and nodded, one eye on Luis. “Roger that. We’ll make tracks within a few hours, tops.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Duke switched off the radio and sat back. Luis stood.
“It’s been going too well. Had to end,” he said.
“Yeah. Well, you heard him. Go get John and let’s
figure out what we can carry. I hate to leave so much behind, but it sounds bad.”
“There’s no telling how long it will take to get an attack group to Pagosa, but depending on when they found out and where they’d be coming from…”
Duke’s expression darkened. “I know. We’re on borrowed time.” He looked around. “Prioritize the weapons and the dry stock. We’ll leave everything bulky or perishable.”
The men went to work, selecting the rarer and more valuable of the guns they’d accumulated and carrying heavy ammo cans of bullets out to the horses. They’d acquired two more animals over the winter, so they could pack a substantial amount of their goods, but still, when they were ready to leave, they were going to have to abandon a small fortune in barter.
Duke did a final check of the buildings to ensure they hadn’t forgotten anything valuable. He paused at the radio table, the transmitter packed away but the inverter and batteries too bulky to cart all the way back to Pagosa, and shook his head. They’d battled for days to get the rig working, and now they were leaving it for the looters. It saddened him, but there was no choice.
Outside, Luis and John were waiting by the horses, the afternoon sun beginning its slow descent into the western mountains. Duke approached them with slow steps and stopped by his animal, who was drinking from the water trough as though sensing the hard slog ahead.
“How far you figure we’ll make it before we camp tonight?” John asked.
Duke checked his watch and did a quick calculation. “Maybe fifteen, twenty miles. We should be able to hoof it a decent way by the time it’s really dark out. Fortunately there shouldn’t be anyone on the road headed that direction. No place to go, far as anybody knows.”
“Think we can get there by tomorrow night?” Luis asked.
“That’s the plan, but it depends on the trails once we’re in the mountains. The horses are going to have a hell of a time with the grade carrying this load. We don’t want to push too hard or we could lose some.”
“That’s probably not worth it,” John agreed.
“They didn’t sound like they were going to wait for us, so we have to do the best we can.”
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 14
