“So you came from Astoria with news. Of what?” Miles asked Lucas.
Lucas frowned. “A Chinese warship arrived recently and offloaded hundreds of troops – as many as a thousand, according to some. The Pacific Northwest has been invaded by China, and those remaining in Astoria were enslaved. Now they’ve taken over Portland. And it’s just the beginning.” Lucas presented all the evidence and finished his summary by pointing to Jeb. “This man’s family was taken prisoner by the Chinese, along with one of my best friends. We came to Salem to get help. We’re hoping you can see your way clear to lending us a hand.”
Miles looked to Jeb. “That’s quite a tale. And a little hard to swallow in places. Like, why would the Chinese invade the U.S., for starters?”
Lucas fielded the question. “We believe they did a deal with the people who are speaking for the country now.”
“Do these people have a name?”
Lucas nodded. “The Illuminati.”
Miles laughed. “Come on. That’s the best you can do? Satan-worshipping masterminds? That’s an old wives’ tale.”
Lucas shook his head. “Afraid not. They’re very real. One of their operatives was in Astoria with a hidden radio, communicating with them. A Chinese advance group blew up Astoria’s ammo right before the ship arrived and murdered a score of their best fighters. For whatever reason, the Illuminati worked a deal with the Chinese, and now they’re here. And they’re not going away. You may believe the bikers are your biggest problem, but you’re wrong. The Chinese are going to keep coming, and soon the entire area is going to be under their control – that’s their plan. If you think they’re going to leave your community be, you’re mistaken.”
One of the other men spoke. “You say they’ve taken over Portland?”
“That’s right,” Ray confirmed. “I watched a whole column of them march off a few days ago. That’s where they were going – it’s the only place the road leads.”
“Why would they want Portland? Even the bikers left it for dead.”
Art studied his fingernails. “Could be they don’t know about the plant melting down. That’s our best guess.”
Lucas sat forward. “Look. We’ve all been through a lot since the collapse. You seem to have a nice setup here – just like the people of Astoria had. But that all changed overnight, and I’m here to tell you that it’s going to happen to you, one way or another. If not the bikers, the Chinese.”
Miles regarded Lucas. “So you say.”
Sam, who’d remained silent so far, motioned to Jeb. “This man shares your faith. His family is in distress. We’re asking for some help so we can do something about it. I thought that since you’re both cut from the same bolt, so to speak, you might hear what he has to say and give it a good think.”
Jeb stepped forward. “They have my little girl and my wife. We’ve lived honorably since the collapse, have kept the faith and studied the Book hard. For whatever reason, the Lord has seen fit to test us with this. Maybe He’s testing us all. I have no way of knowing, but maybe this is all to see whether we’re worth saving or if we’re still the selfish sinners we’ve always been.”
Miles saw the trap, but it was too late. Jeb had eloquently framed his plea for help as a possible divine test, and there was no way to disprove the idea. If he was right, and Miles decided not to help, then he’d shown himself and his people to be unworthy of compassion and, quite possibly, salvation.
“Not sure I agree with you, Jeb,” Miles said.
“Like I said – I can’t claim to know whether this is a test of us all, but if it is…”
“Miles, you don’t have to agree with Jeb, although even to a heathen like me it sounds plausible,” Sam said. “But we could really use a hand.”
“What are you asking?” asked the man to Miles’s right, his voice a growl.
“We could use five good men to help us break my people out,” Sam said. “Ten would be better, but five might be enough. And enough weapons to outfit anyone we get out. Probably at least fifty AKs or ARs, maybe more.”
Miles’s expression changed to one of shock. “You want us to take on the bikers? That would invite them to lay waste to our community,” Miles said. “Why would we risk that?”
“Because either the bikers or the Chinese are going to do it anyway, Miles,” Lucas said. “That’s the unfortunate truth. The days of keeping your heads down and hoping bullies leave you alone are over.” Lucas paused and looked at the other men. “And because it’s the right thing to do.”
Miles shook his head. “Perhaps not the right thing for us.”
Jeb sat forward. “Lucas is right. The world is changing, and if you’re going to survive, you need to change with it. Sam’s people tried leaving the bikers to their business in Salem, and look what it got them. They’re now prisoners. You really believe you’re not going to face the same if you don’t do something?”
“How will breaking Sam’s group out of Salem help us?”
“Because there’s strength in numbers,” Art said. “Join forces and you’ll have far more fighters. You’ll know how the bikers were able to take their compound and can be ready for it. Basic military strategy – the best defense is a good offense.”
“What about the Chinese?” Miles asked.
Lucas shook his head. “Same approach. Like it or not, if you want to be safe from invasion, you have to fight for what’s yours. There’s no army to defend you anymore. Now, every one of us is the army – just like when everyone living in the colonies had to rise up and overthrow the English. It’s up to everyone to fight off invaders. Nobody’s going to do it for us.”
Miles interrupted. “You keep saying us. There is no us.”
“There has to be. If there’s no us, then soon there’s only going to be them. It’s decision time.” Lucas sighed. “I saw a bunch of women and kids outside – a fine bunch. You’ve managed to watch out for your own, and you’ve obviously done well. But that’s not good enough anymore. You have to decide if you’re going to let gangs of the Chinese run your world, or take control of your destiny. If you let them ride roughshod over everyone else, they’ll eventually come for you, as Sam’s people learned. The alternative is to take the battle to them and not allow the forces of evil to win. Pretty simple.”
Art grunted. “Pretty smart guy once said the only thing required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” He looked at each of Miles’s advisors in turn. “Question is whether you’re the good men who are going to let it prevail or not.”
Miles appeared thoughtful as he stood. “I need to discuss this with my group. In the meantime, hopefully you’ll allow us to share our meal with you.” He paused. “I can’t ask any of this community to risk their lives for you. That’s an individual decision I can’t make for anyone.”
“All we’re asking is for a chance to explain the situation to your people and see if anyone wants to help,” said Lucas.
Sam rose as well. “How many of you are there nowadays? It’s been a while since we did any trading. I haven’t kept up.”
“We’re almost ninety now, not counting the children.”
“A good size group,” Sam said. “Mine’s about sixty-five, assuming we can get them all out.”
“Between the two of you, sounds like there are enough to drive the bikers out of Salem for good,” Lucas observed. “You have enough guns and ammo to arm them?”
“We could find enough.” Miles’s tone was flat. “You’ve given us much to consider. Please. Give us time to discuss all of this. In the meantime, enjoy our hospitality and have dinner here. Sam, you remember the way to the dining hall?”
Sam nodded. “I think I can find it.” He hesitated. “Thanks, Miles. Appreciate it.”
Miles returned the nod. “I’m sure you’d do the same for us.”
An hour later they’d eaten, and Miles entered the hall with his advisors in tow. Sam looked to them hopefully as Miles sat across from him and folded his hands before him on t
he tabletop.
“You make a number of good points. We’ve decided to let you put it to the collective. If anyone wants to help you, it’s their call, not ours.” Miles gestured to the man beside him. “But I will say that Rourke here has already indicated he’s in. That will probably work in your favor.”
Sam brightened, and Jeb smiled for the first time that day. “Thank you.”
Miles exhaled heavily. “Thank the Lord, not me. I just hope we’re doing the right thing. It’s tempting to lock ourselves away and ignore your plea, but I can’t, in good conscience.” Miles stood and addressed the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have probably noticed some new faces. Allow me to introduce some fellow travelers who have a proposal for everyone.” He paused and indicated Lucas with his hand. “This is Lucas, and he’ll do the talking. Listen up, and save your questions till he’s done.”
Lucas rose and removed his hat. He slowly surveyed the gathering, making eye contact with as many of the men as he could, and cleared his throat.
“Folks, I’ve ridden a long way to tell this story, and I’m afraid my ride is far from over. I’m not the kind to ask for help easily, and if there was any other way, I wouldn’t be here.” He looked to Jeb and then back at the gathering. “We’re not here to ask for help for ourselves. We’ve come to give you a choice – a choice that could well decide your future and the future of everyone in town.”
Lucas paused, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd, and then plunged ahead, not stopping until he reached the end of his story to expressions that varied from shock to horror to anger. When he thanked Miles for the opportunity to speak and sat down, he knew he’d resonated with a good number there.
The question now was whether that would be enough.
Chapter 30
Lucas and Sam were back at the bar, the hour late. A strata of high clouds blocked the gibbous moon and the stars. Luke had synchronized his watch with Art and Ray, and they had agreed to move simultaneously on their targets at one thirty a.m. – in ten more minutes.
Seven of Miles’s clan had volunteered to help in the breakout, and Art had taken command of the group that would rustle the horses. He’d worked with the locals to sneak close enough to the central stable to move on it once the distraction Ray was in charge of creating commanded the bikers’ attention – which Sam had assured him would be easy, given that nobody in their right mind was trying to sneak into a city recently taken over by outlaw bikers.
Jeb waited outside the bar with three gunmen in the shadows. Their assault rifles were equipped with flash and sound suppressors, and their clothing was as dark as Lucas’s mood. He didn’t have tremendous faith in the plan they’d contrived on short notice, but it was the best they could do, and he didn’t see it improving with age.
The big unknown was not how the bikers would react to a pair of grenades detonating at city hall but how many would remain in the prison building for Lucas and company to contend with. Nobody had gone into or come out of the building since they’d arrived there at midnight, but that was inconclusive – there could just as easily be dozens asleep inside as a handful, and they wouldn’t know what they were walking into until it was too late to back out.
What worked in their favor was the size of the city and the small number of bikers to police their turf. For all their fearsome brutality, a few hundred men was a paltry force, and it would take time for them to react to the grenades and ascertain the level of threat. Sam’s hope was that most if not all the jailers in the prison would rush to city hall, leaving the prisoners untended, or at least so lightly guarded that the remaining bikers could be dispatched with relative ease.
The problem, Lucas knew from experience, was when the theoretical encountered reality, it was often messier than planned, and he saw no reason to be optimistic about this exercise. It was entirely possible that they could get in and get out with a minimum of casualties, but he wasn’t counting on it, and the knot in his gut portended anything but good.
“You ready to do this?” Lucas asked as he tossed a few rounds of 9mm on the table and waved for the server.
Sam’s face was tense, and when he smiled, it was anything but reassuring, more akin to a grimace. “Locked and loaded.”
Lucas had confirmed that all the men under his auspices were veterans of armed skirmishes, and was satisfied they wouldn’t freeze. The weakest link was Jeb, but he’d insisted on being part of the breakout team rather than the horse rustlers, and Lucas hadn’t had the will to fight him on it. He would leave Jeb outside to watch the street and tend to their horses while he was inside, and if things went well, the big man wouldn’t be required to perform beyond hollering a warning if he saw anyone coming.
“Let’s go find the boys and get into position,” Lucas said as he rose. He led the way out of the bar, quieter now with the late hour, the smoky torches flickering in the interior providing only dim light.
Jeb and the other men waited with the horses in the darkest recesses of an alley adjacent to the building. Lucas whispered a final summary of their attack plan, so it would be fresh in everyone’s minds, and then checked his watch again, the minute indicator reading twenty-eight past the hour. His hand tightened on the grip of his M4, and he flipped the fire selector to three-round burst and powered on the night vision scope, praying that it had sufficient juice to last until the incursion was over.
The explosions, when they came, were roars in the near distance, shattering the silence and drawing curious drinkers from the bar. Gunfire rattled from city hall, Ray under instructions to empty a magazine at the building to mimic an attack, and then answering fire echoed through the night as bikers rushed to engage.
Ray was to immediately vacate the area after his initial salvo, leaving the bikers to shoot at phantoms. It sounded to Lucas like at least that part of the plan was working, and more guns joined the fray, the steady chatter of AKs telling Lucas that the ruse had been effective.
Moments later the doors of the prison building flew open and a group of half-asleep bikers spilled from the doorway. Seeing nothing, the lead gunman pointed toward city hall, called out to the rest, and took off at a stumbling run, the darkness on the street nearly complete save for the glow from the bar.
Lucas waited thirty seconds and, when nobody else came through the door, signaled his intention to Miles’s men and made for the entrance. Jeb stayed rooted to the spot with his rifle in hand, peering into the darkness with the intensity of a bird of prey, the horses hidden in the alley’s recesses.
Lucas reached the doorway and ducked around it, leading with his gun. The interior glowed bright green in his NV scope. He had no idea about the layout, but quickly saw that the downstairs consisted of a lobby with a steel door at the far end, the area dimly lit by a single flame. The heavy air stank of perspiration and unbathed bodies recently departed. He moved to the door and cocked his head, listening intently, and after several seconds, motioned to the street door with two fingers and signaled for Sam to close it.
When the door was shut, Lucas whispered to the others, “I hear voices. At least two on the other side of that door. When I open it, Rob, you go in low and shoot anything that moves. If it’s too dark to see, duck to the right and I’ll take out anyone with my gun.” Lucas paused. “Blow that candle out, and on my count of three, we go in. Ready?”
Rob, the oldest of the men and in Lucas’s estimation the most capable, nodded in the faint light of a candle on the counter by the entry door and moved to extinguish it. Sam followed right behind him. Lucas let his eyes adjust to the near complete darkness, stepped clear of a bedroll on the floor, gripped the doorknob, and then took a deep breath as he waited for Rob to make it to his side. Rob tapped his arm to indicate that he was in position, and Lucas threw the door wide while Rob swung around the door frame, rifle at the ready.
Three bikers stood halfway down a long corridor framed by makeshift cells of what had originally been mini storage compartments, a portable camping lantern o
n the floor by their feet. One of them yelled in surprise, and then Rob’s rifle barked in percussive bursts, almost instantly joined by Lucas’s. The shots caught two of the bikers in the torso, but the third ducked and squeezed off half a magazine before going down. The rounds ricocheted off the concrete, the sound of the unsuppressed weapon deafening in the narrow space.
Rob grunted and looked down in surprise at his shoulder, where a ricochet had barely missed the ceramic plate of his flak vest and drilled through his upper pectoral muscle. He tried to speak, but only coughed before slipping to the floor, rifle still gripped in his hand. Lucas scanned the hall with his scope, and when he was sure that there were no more shooters, moved to Rob and inspected the wound.
“Winged you, but I don’t see much blood. How’s your breathing?” Lucas asked.
“I’ll manage,” Rob said through clenched teeth, pain clouding his features.
“I’ll be back, and we can do a pressure dressing in a few minutes,” Lucas said, and then waved for the others to follow him down the hall.
Lucas, Sam, and two gunmen moved quietly along the corridor, and Lucas paused at the halfway point and pointed to the far door. “One of you head over there and man that exit. Sam, help me open these and see if we can find our bunch,” he said, indicating the roll-up storage doors.
They hit paydirt at the third unit and found themselves facing ten frightened men who looked like they hadn’t eaten in a month. Lucas’s nose wrinkled at the stink of human waste, and after a glance at a bucket in the corner, stepped aside. One of the men recognized Sam behind Lucas, and he straightened.
“S-Sam! Is that really you?” he stuttered, his voice weak.
“It is, Riley,” Sam confirmed. “You okay to walk out of here?”
“For real? Try stopping me. But…how…?”
Sam ignored the question. “Where are the others?”
The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Page 16
