Sampson's Legacy: The Post-Apocalyptic Sequel To Legacy Of Ashes (Earth's Ashes Book 2)

by Ric Beard

  “Sean Stone is in OK City? He’s alive?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, no ma’am. I mean—”

  “Spit it out, you ungrateful bag of platitudes!”

  “He’s not inside the city. He’s still on the list. They’d bag him at the gates. He was waiting for us outside. The warehouse used to be his place. He might have been going there to do a deal or something.”

  “Do a deal, you say?” She thrust her hands onto her hips and bent toward him. “Do a deal? How is Sean Stone doing deals anywhere within five hundred miles of the city without my knowing about it?” Alexandra peeled the tape off her hand and yanked the needle out, tossing it to the side, where it dangled beneath the infusion rig. A line of blood spit across her hand, and she pressed the wound with two fingers.

  “I don’t know where he came from.”

  “Was anyone with him?”

  “I…I don’t think so.”

  “Think? I am growing very impatient, Carson!”

  “He looked around like he expected someone to be there, but I didn’t see anyone. I thought maybe he was going a little loco.”

  “How did he look? Was he healthy?”

  Carson shrugged and looked up at Alexandra. “Sure. He looked the same as last we saw him. A little better, maybe. Filled out a bit.”

  “A deal…” She raised her fingers to watch the blood well up in a ball from the needle wound. “No, I don’t think he was here to make any deals. He didn’t just fall on your rendezvous by coincidence. No, there are no coincidences. It seems our Mister Stone is more devious than we gave him credit for. Seems he somehow got wind of our operation and decided to take a little revenge.”

  “I don’t think so,” Carson said. Alexandra scowled, but he pressed on, holding up a palm and dipping his head. “Hear me out. He could’ve killed me if he wanted to. He let me go.”

  “But he took the drugs.”

  “True. So, maybe the smuggler in him couldn’t resist. I don’t know, but he had a pulse weapon pointed right at my head. He didn’t use it.”

  “So, you wriggled your way out.”

  Carson’s shoulder raised in a half-shrug. “Yes ma’am. He wouldn’t tell me anything, but I got the impression he’s been doing okay for himself. His clothes fit perfectly, nice lines. We know he hasn’t been in Triangle City, so I’d like to know where he got clothes like that.”

  “Ah!” Alexandra held up a finger as she paced across the room in short, stuttering steps. “Maybe they were made in Sampson’s new industries in the MidEast.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Do you think he works for Sampson?”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  She stopped pacing and turned. “Why?”

  “Because Sean neutralized all but one of Sampson’s guys. I lost one, too.”

  “Which one?”

  “Hayes.” Carson lowered his head.

  “He was with you when we met,” Alexandra said. “Big one with the beard, right?”

  Carson muttered his answer. “That’s him.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose those to whom we’re closest.” And that was all the empathy he was getting. “Well, this little bit of news might just save your life, Carson. How would you like to do me a service?”

  “Anything,” Carson said, hope flashing in his eyes.

  She wanted to reach down and give him a good slap, but these were the inclinations of the animal mind and she reminded herself she was above such base instincts.

  She pressed the gold watch on her right arm and one of the diamonds inlaid in the trim around the hands flickered in the new morning light flooding through the window.

  She spoke into the watch.

  “Send him in.”

  Carson looked up as the wide, double doors flung open on the opposite side of the room from which he’d entered, and a broad-shouldered man in a perfectly-pressed special forces uniform paraded into the room and marched to Alexandra’s side. He swiveled on the heels of his boots and faced her. The barrel-chested man towered over them.

  “Miss Bingham.”

  She thought for a moment that he might salute, but she wasn’t in his chain of command, and he didn’t. Even so, his straight back communicated the respect she would’ve expected from the cretin standing across from her.

  “Lieutenant Dreyfus, this is Carson. He will be accompanying your men to the MidEast.”

  The lieutenant’s eyes were the only parts of his body that shifted to the side to take in the man standing next to him. To Alexandra, he didn’t seem impressed.

  Nor, should he be.

  “Yes, Miss Bingham.” He looked over at Carson again. “Do you have combat training?”

  “I can hold my own, chief,” Carson said.

  Alexandra snapped again and leveled a finger at Carson. “Do not push my buttons, sir.”

  In another show of good judgement, Carson pressed his excitable lips together and nodded.

  “In addition to your mission to retrieve the shipment, I’ve learned about a wanted criminal for whom I—well, the city—has sought for more than two years now. Carson knows the man for whom we are looking. Although appearances can be deceiving, Carson usually has quite the way about keeping himself out of tight spots. I don’t think he will encumber you. If he does, feel free to take whatever measures you deem necessary.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alexandra thought she saw a hint of a smile on the corner of Dreyfus’s lips, but she’d allow it.

  “You’ll still return the survivor and the bag to Mister De Le Court, then seek out the stolen shipment. If you get lucky, and Stone is still with the shipment, all the better. He’s now your primary objective.”

  “Roger that, ma’am.”

  “Not likely,” Carson interjected. “Smugglers tend to drop their loads as quickly as possible. If it was planned, and he does have a buyer, he’ll move to that person directly.”

  Alexandra ignored the interruption.

  “I reiterate, he should be alive when he returns to OK City.”

  “Of course, ma’am. We’ll package him up nice and pretty. What color bow would you like?”

  The confidence in his tone seemed somehow different than the salesman’s swagger Carson projected, and Alexandra felt a surge of warmth against the cold liquid traversing her veins. Dreyfus would make a good bed warmer.

  “I like you, already, sir.” She smiled. “Your superiors have been very cooperative. Do you know why?”

  “No ma’am, I don’t ask questions. I follow orders.”

  Alexandra pressed a hand to her chest. “Carson, did you hear that? This man follows orders! I feel you have a lot to learn from him!”

  “Yes ma’am,” Carson said in a defeated tone.

  “Lieutenant, your superiors are cooperative because of the city’s business relationship with Sampson De Le Court, the governor of the MidEast. If he succeeds in civilizing that region, our trade channels with Triangle City will become more secure and save the city resources. The shipment hijacked by this smuggling criminal is of great value to Mister De Le Court. In return, Mister De Le Court’s shipments to OK City are filled with unique assets, like less-common vegetables, hardwood lumber, and the other commodities.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he replied.

  “The fact that Sean Stone is a wanted criminal in OK City for going on three years, now, only adds to the city’s extreme interest in recovering mister De Le Court’s property and ensuring the continuation of this business relationship. Stone is a blemish on their apprehension record.”

  A record I tarnished by smuggling him out of the city after I had Carson report him to the authorities, in the first place.

  She lowered her tone as she leveled her eyes up at the lovely brute. “Have I painted you a detailed-enough picture to relay the gravity of the situation?”

  “Yes ma’am. We’ll find the shipment, secure it, return it, take Mister Stone into custody, and bring him back to the authorities.”
<
br />   “Oh, no, Lieutenant. When you have completed your mission, you will come here.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Alexandra pointed a finger at the floor in front of her.

  “When you have acquired Sean Stone, you will bring him directly to me. The city will not know he is with you. Is that a problem?”

  Dreyfus’s eyes shifted to Carson and then back to hers. “My superiors have ordered my full cooperation with you, ma’am.”

  “Good. Go get my boy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  SHIT!

  27

  The sun was just up when Lucian stared at the arrow scratched haphazardly into the brick wall and then at the bike in the middle of the rocky road, surrounded by knee-high grass on either side. Nina’s helmet rested on the dirt beneath the handlebars, probably dropped there by these gales of wind rising up in nature’s anger before receding to a peaceful-but-chilly breeze.

  He made mental note to build some kind of clip for the helmet into the design.

  Though the drone had come into range in time to tag her Tab’s location, the signal had been lost shortly thereafter, and there was no sign of Nina anywhere. He’d checked every dark corner of each dusty shop, trying to figure out where she would’ve camped if another of her attacks had overcome her, but it’d been weeks since she had one and, he’d hoped they were a thing of the past. A product of the procedure to change her DNA so her cells would replicate more quickly, Jenna thought the attacks were due to Nina’s ripe-old age of twenty-seven. They’d never treated anyone over twenty-five.

  Lucian was a competent field medic, but one thing he hadn’t taken to—well, two things if you considered his lack of natural combat skills—was the inner workings of the human body at the cellular level. Lexi understood it a lot better than he had, so Jenna had discarded Lucian as a waste of time and focused on Lexi and the people at the compound who’d shown proclivities for the medical sciences. Jenna was all about efficiency…and prudence. As a result, he had no idea why Nina would respond to the treatments the way she had, but he trusted Jenna when she said it would pass with time.

  “Shit.” He cursed himself for clearing her for duty.

  But you don’t even know she’s had an attack. Someone might have gotten the drop on her!

  That was just so much better. But the scuffs in the dust inside the third shop down on the right looked like they were made by shoes.

  “Shit!”

  After a few swift kicks at the rocks in the middle of the road, he scanned the horizon and spotted a hill to the east with an old oak sitting at its crest.

  She’d be able to get a good view of the surrounding area from there. Isn’t that what I taught her to do?

  Raising his boots to mash down the high grass, he stomped his way up the hill and stopped next to an old oak, the sprawling fingers of its branches reaching over him. It was probably ten degrees cooler in the shade, so Lucian stepped out to soak in the rays of the eastern sun. A scan of the ground around the tree revealed a reflection. He jogged a few steps forward, toward the edge of the clearing and performed a cursory, paranoid glance for snakes. Convinced there were none, he reached down and felt around for whatever had been the source of the reflection. His fingertips grazed something smooth and he clutched it.

  Nina’s Tab!

  “Shit!”

  A web of cracked, obsidian glass covered the display. The powdery white crystals in the center of the web resembled tiny diamonds in a spoonful of sugar.

  Someone took their heel to it.

  He clicked the power button a few times, but nothing happened.

  Cursing again, he pivoted and gazed back toward the town. Tapping his glasses, he zoomed in on the arrow representing one of the earlier lessons in their survival training together.

  Always draw the arrow pointing in the direction from which you’ve come. If pursuers come upon it, they’ll follow the arrow. If we come upon it, we’ll go the opposite direction, toward you.

  Considering the well-balanced hover bike in the middle of the road that had, aided by its anti-magnet, managed to resist the wind and stay upright, and considering the Tab he held in his hand, the arrow wasn’t of much help. Someone had taken Nina and he needed to find her.

  “Who?” he asked himself. “Sampson’s men finishing what they started with Jenna and Scruff? Hunters? Raiders? Scavengers?”

  No, scavengers would’ve taken the bike. Well, maybe a solo scavenger wouldn’t have. Could be someone wanted to get her out of here in a hurry.

  Lucian pictured Nina’s lean, muscular body, shining black hair, and smooth skin he assumed was of Middle Eastern descent, and shuttered at the thought of what a scavenger here might do with her. This was the outer edge of the MidEast territory. Sampson’s reach might extend to here, but Horde territory started a couple hundred miles to the west, and he was smart enough to leave a cushion between his people and those barbarians. Sex trading wasn’t uncommon in the badlands, and Nina would be expensive.

  Feeling his lip raise in a sneer, he turned and flung the tab across the field, where it spun like a disc through the air before disappearing into the tall grass.

  You’re sure as shit not going to find her standing here, throwing temper tantrums!

  Lucian nodded to himself and ran across the field and over the trail of grass he’d trampled down. There were a few rusted-out cars lining either side of the road. He spied the familiar black, dusty leavings of asphalt a hundred years old among the white powder of what had once been the main thoroughfare through a country town, and zoomed in.

  After a few minutes of fruitless searching, not knowing what he was looking for, he found it sitting in the gravel next to an old-world muscle car with a fat rear end and wide rear tires. It would’ve been easy to miss the rusted nut among the dirt and gravel, but luck was with him, as it unlocked new evidence. He might not have noticed the jimmied passenger-side door because of the careful way it was pushed back into place. Then he wouldn’t have pulled the hood lever to find two areas beneath the front of the engine cover where someone’s arms had been at work, revealing the underlying silvery sheen of the screws from which nuts like the one he found in the road had been torqued.

  A scavenger, then. He poked his head up and looked beside the hood at Nina’s bike. She would’ve totally missed him if she came in that way, as her arrow indicates. Lucian reached up for the hood and gently lowered it. It surprised him that the hinges didn’t squawk.

  Scavenger might have oiled them in case anyone came along and he needed to quietly cover his tracks.

  His eyes turned back to the hill with the single oak standing guard over the surrounding countryside beneath the hovering sun.

  East. Sampson Country.

  Then he eyed the northern road from which Nina would’ve come as it stretched south, the direction her bike was facing.

  North and South, also MidEast territory.

  He spun around, faced west, paced quickly down the cracked and broken sidewalk along crumbling and collapsed overhangs until he reached the end of the row of shops.

  He pivoted and peered toward the other side of town, at Nina’s bike. “You’re still here, so he had a vehicle of his own.”

  He muttered to himself. “If I were a scav, and I wanted to be able to hide in a hurry if one of Sampson’s trucks rolled by on that north-south road,” he pointed a finger at the ground in the shade cast against the buildings, “I’d have to make sure my vehicle was out of sight as I jumped into one of these shops.” Tracing his eyes along the outside of the building that made up the endpoint of the row, he nodded. “This is where I’d park.”

  Tiny black rubber skids lined the crusty pavement. Had someone walked by, they wouldn’t have noticed them in the morning shade cast by the building.

  Now, where did you go with my friend, you mother fuckers?

  Lucian glared up the sidewalk. A splattering of white rocks had somehow made their ways off the road and were spread around the corner in
front of him. Turning, he walked a few steps to the edge of the town where the buildings met high grass. Weaving the grass to the side as if swimming a breast stroke, Lucian stepped forward and saw that a few of the white rocks were more than five paces from the road.

  Hm. Wind wouldn’t have done that…but tires spitting gravel would have.

  He shot up straight and looked down the road, turning northwest as it led out of town. From here, he could see it stretch up a long, meandering hill before winding back toward the north.

  That way, then.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  HOPE YOU KNOW HOW TO SWIM

  28

  A pinpoint of light…

  A faint fwap! from somewhere distant.

  Fwap! Creak. Click!

  Numbness transitioned to a ghostly pain. Spasms.

  Fwap! creak, click.

  Jenna lurched. Air flooded back into her lungs—with it, a familiar scent forced into her nostrils—one Jenna hadn’t experienced in ages. Her eyelids fluttered but there was no light. The air was a delicious boon her body gobbled in spite of the intruding, familiar scent. Numb extremities burned with tingles as oxygen surged through her bloodstream, returning warmth to frigid bones. As the electrical activity in her brain escalated, the doctor in Jenna saw a mental image against the inky darkness of her consciousness, of the muscles inflating and tissue expanding as she drank down glorious air.

  Fwap!

  Jenna’s arms and legs jerked at the sound.

  Swivel, click!

  A male voice echoed in the darkness.

  “That was close. Thought for a second there I’d lost ya. Seeing what kind of shape you’re in, I gave you a long count. I have this talent for reading people. Looks like I was right about you. A real survivor.”

  Fwap!

  Swivel, click!

  The strange smell rushed into her nostrils again as firing nerves caused her arms to jump.

  Blurry light thrust beats against her temples as Jenna’s eyelids flickered open. Shading them with her forearm, she blinked the blur away. The cool plastic of the bench mounted on the back wall sent a chill down her spine against her warming body.