The call over, he shut down the radio and relocked the door to the windowless room. His instinct to report on the newcomer had been vindicated. Now he needed to figure out how to take him down. By the sound of it, it wouldn’t be easy.
But then again, he hadn’t been dispatched to Astoria for nothing. He was resourceful, and the sleepy little berg was a key geographic location for control of the Pacific Northwest, the sole access point from the ocean to the Columbia River and the cities along it. Of course, now that the waterway was a toxic soup, its importance would be relegated to history, but that wasn’t his concern. His masters knew what they were doing. He was merely a small cog in a huge wheel.
One that would crush Lucas’s bones to jelly sooner than later.
Chapter 27
Lucas stood beside Ruby’s bed, moonlight filtering through the dusty window panes, and turned when he heard the door open. A young woman in a homemade dress cut from the same cloth as Mary’s entered carrying more damp towels, followed by Sylvia. The nurse offered Lucas a fatigued smile and motioned to her companion.
“Lucas, this is Rosemary. Mary’s daughter.”
Lucas nodded, and Rosemary mumbled a greeting. Sylvia yawned and eyed Lucas.
“I’m going back to sleep, since you’re up. You can show Rosemary what to do.”
Sylvia left, and Lucas gestured to Ruby’s shoulder. “We change the dressing every four hours and apply your mother’s salve. Now that we’ve got antibiotics, every six hours she’s to take one. She’s still got two more hours to go for the pills, but we can change the bandage now.”
“Sylvia told me. I can do it by myself.”
Lucas shrugged. “Suit yourself. She’s been out cold since she took the first pill.”
Rosemary moved to the bed and set the towels on the metal rolling table beside it, and then removed a clean cloth from the top of the pile and went to work. Lucas watched with approval as she cleaned and dressed the wound, applying a liberal helping of salve before pressing the towel into place and lightly wrapping it with the gauze from the previous dressing. When she was done, she stepped back to study her work.
Lucas considered the neat job appreciatively. “Thank your mom again for me, would you?”
“For what?”
“Mixing the ointment.”
“Oh. Sure. Whenever I see her.”
“You don’t live with your parents?”
“Yeah, I do. We just keep different hours, is all.”
“You help out at the store?”
“Sometimes. Although not lately. We haven’t been getting along real well, so I mostly do my own thing and they do theirs.”
“Are you still in school, Rosemary?”
That drew a musical laugh. “For what?”
Lucas felt color rising to his cheeks. “I guess there aren’t a lot of high-paying careers that require an education these days.”
“You can say that again. Especially stuck in this town. It sucks if you’re not old.”
“I’d imagine it does. Not a lot of excitement, I bet.”
“And very few even close to my age. Most everyone’s a codger.” She paused and looked away. “Not you, I mean.”
It was his turn to laugh. “It’s okay. When I was your age, I’d have thought I was ancient. Just the way things work.” He paused. “Hard to find a boyfriend, I’d guess.”
Rosemary blushed in the dim light. “My parents would keep me locked up till I’m thirty if they had their way.”
“I can see them wanting to be protective after everything that’s happened.”
“Oh, me too. But the one guy I kind of like, they want me to have nothing to do with. That leaves me without any options, unless I run off and join the tent people or something.”
“Like Ray?”
Her eyes widened. “You know him?”
“Sylvia told me he was your cousin.”
“Yeah. They don’t like him, either. We’re too good for everybody, apparently.”
“I didn’t get that from them.”
“You haven’t been here that long,” she fired back, suddenly sounding less like a petulant teen and more like a disgusted young woman. “Sylvia told me you went riding with Alex today.”
Lucas nodded. “He on your radar?”
“Not if my folks have anything to say. They don’t like him.” She looked first to Lucas and then back at Ruby. “How about you?”
“Don’t really know him.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“How long you staying in town?”
“Probably until Ruby here mends. Don’t have much choice.”
“Then I’ll probably see you around,” she said, gathering the soiled bandage and moving to the door. “Say hi to Alex for me. I’m headed home. My dad will have a fit if I don’t come straight there once I’m done helping Sylvia. You need anything else before I go?”
“Not that I can think of.” He looked her over. “You got a gun? Pretty dark out, isn’t it?”
“I’ve got a pistol in Sylvia’s room. I carry it, but I don’t really need it. We haven’t had those kinds of problems here.”
“You’re lucky. Not everywhere is so civilized.”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard the stories about Portland and Seattle. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain – I know we’ve got it good here. It’s just…frustrating. I mean, I see the same five hundred people, and I can see my whole life being more of the same.”
“Understood. But one thing I’ve learned is it’s hard to predict the future. Right now I’d take boring and safe over the alternative. Bet Ruby would too.”
“It’s a no-win situation. Anyhow, nice to meet you, now that I’ve unloaded on you and whined about everything.”
“Feel free to stop by and whine some more whenever you want. Good for the soul.”
“Mine, or yours?”
Lucas grinned. “Misery loves company.”
Rosemary threw a final look at Ruby. “Hope your friend gets better.”
“Thanks. Me too.”
Lucas slumbered in his chair until it came time to give Ruby her next pill. He was able to rouse her sufficiently to get her to swallow it, and blotted her brow as she settled back into uneasy sleep. She wasn’t sweating as profusely as the prior day, and he was cautiously optimistic – she seemed less feverish than she had been only hours before.
When Sylvia reappeared for the next dressing change, she reassured Lucas that Ruby’s improvement wasn’t his imagination.
“I’ll keep an eye on her for the rest of the night if you want to get some real sleep,” she said. “There’s nothing more you can do for her here – I’ll give her the next dose and keep her comfortable.”
The offer sounded good, and Lucas made his way back to the house with more of a spring in his step than earlier, now that Ruby’s recovery was a real possibility rather than a distant hope. When he reached the house, he was surprised to see one of the LED lights glowing in the living room. He frowned as he unlocked the door using the duplicate key Hayden had given him, and when he stepped into the foyer, he called out, “Joel?”
Nothing greeted him but the faint reverberation of his voice. He tried again. “Joel? You up there?”
Silence.
Lucas climbed the stairs to the second floor and confirmed that Joel wasn’t asleep in his room, and then returned to the ground level and did a quick sweep through the kitchen, verifying that nobody had broken in the rear door or jimmied a window. Everything appeared intact, and he retraced his steps to the entry and eyed Joel’s saddlebags on the hardwood floor.
After going through them and checking to ensure the vaccine was still there, Lucas sat heavily in the easy chair that Joel had occupied, his M4 across his lap, and tilted his hat forward, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. His breathing slowed and deepened, and within minutes he was out cold, legs stretched in front of him, the dim glow from the LED casting long shadows in the r
oom.
He was jarred from his rest forty-five minutes later when the front door opened with a clack that sounded through the house like a pistol shot. Lucas sat immobile as Joel bolted the door behind him and stumbled along the hall until he reached the living room and spotted Lucas glowering at him with unblinking eyes.
“Thought I told you to guard the vaccine,” Lucas said, his voice dangerously low.
“I…I needed to get out of here,” Joel said with a slur. Lucas sniffed the air and his frown deepened.
“You’re drunk.”
“I had a couple,” Joel admitted, his shoulders sagging.
“Instead of staying at your post, you left and got wasted. That about right?”
Joel stared at him, his gaze unfocused, and Lucas shook his head in disgust. Lucas rose and took a step toward Joel, who cringed as though Lucas was going to hit him. Lucas instead leaned down and scooped up the saddlebags with the vaccine.
“Go sleep it off,” Lucas ordered. “You’re useless. Seems like any job you have, you blow.”
“I’ve been cooped up in here for days–”
“I don’t argue with drunks. Get out of my sight. You sicken me.”
“Nothing happened. It’s all fine, right? So what’s the big deal?” Joel argued, swaying slightly.
Lucas shook his head again. “The big deal is I can’t depend on you. Now step aside.”
Joel did as instructed, and Lucas made his way to the stairs, the extra weight of the saddlebags heavier with each step, his fury simmering at the younger man’s behavior and attempt to defend the indefensible. When he reached the stairs, he stopped, took a look over his shoulder at Joel, and continued up without saying anything, his glare as clear a rebuke to Joel as a backhanded slap.
Chapter 28
Lucas was up at dawn and left a note scrawled on a piece of brittle paper he found in one of the drawers, warning Joel not to leave the house under any circumstances or there would be hell to pay. He wanted to get a jump on the day and track down the Chinese Ray had told him about, and figured it would be most likely that the man would still be at the marina before the morning chill had dissipated. Lucas set the saddlebags containing the vaccine outside Joel’s door and stuck his head inside. His nose wrinkled at the stench of alcohol that permeated the room, Joel’s snoring loud as a buzz saw in the still air, and he glowered the entire way to the front door, where he gathered his things, fuming at Joel’s behavior.
The trek to the stable took ten minutes. The breeze off the bay was icy and redolent of brine and the peculiar tang of low tide. Tango greeted him with a snort and a shake of his big head, and Lucas had the horse ready to ride in a blink. He was anxious to hit the marina and then the trail, hopeful that Tango on his own could make better time than with Alex’s mount, which had shorter legs that had slowed their progress.
Lucas thanked the stable hand and led Tango into the morning light, the marine layer still heavy overhead. He climbed into the saddle and pointed the big stallion’s nose toward the marina. They were the only living things on the street as far as Lucas could tell, Tango’s hooves pounding the asphalt like ball-peen hammers. When they drew near the water, Lucas could smell cooking fires drifting from some of the boats bobbing in a gentle surge, and he spied several figures moving along the docks with carts filled with what appeared to be seaweed, crab, and fish.
He dismounted and tied Tango to a rusting lamppost. M4 slung from one shoulder, flak jacket bulging with spare magazines, and Kimber strapped to his hip, he made his way down the concrete ramp to the docks. He could practically feel the eyes of the Chinese burning into him, an outsider armed to the teeth invading the space they’d staked out for themselves. Lucas ignored the sensation, more than accustomed to it from working the bad areas in El Paso, and approached a stooped man in his forties who was cleaning an impeller with a wire brush.
Lucas nodded a greeting and the man nodded back, his expression a blank. Lucas glanced around at the boats and leaned into him, deliberately invading his space, his greater size intimidating.
“I’m looking for Lee.”
The man continued to stare at Lucas with an utter lack of any comprehension. Lucas tried again. “Where is Lee?”
The worker stopped what he was doing and set down his brush, and then scurried down the dock toward a sailboat with laundry strung from a line tied from the bowsprit to the mast. He chattered in Chinese to someone below decks, and then another man emerged and looked around, blinking in the morning light before joining his companion on the dock. Together they approached, the second man’s expression puzzled, and stopped a few yards from Lucas.
“Yes?” the man said, his accent obviously thick even with the single syllable.
“I’m looking for Lee.”
The man blinked once. “Lee not here.”
“Where is he?”
“I think he fish.”
“You think? How can you be sure he’s not here?”
The man pointed to an empty berth. “Boat gone.”
Lucas swore inwardly. “How long does he usually stay out?”
“Depend.”
“On?”
“The fish.”
Lucas tried to detect any hint of mockery, but the man’s face was as placid as a mountain lake. “When did he leave?”
“Few hour ago. Why you need him? Somebody else help you?”
“No, I really need to talk to him.”
“I tell. What your name?”
“Lucas. I’m over at the hospital most of the time.” He paused, unwilling to give too much away, and eyed a pair of larger sailboats with distinctly Asian lines at the end of the docks. “Those your boats? The ones you came over on?”
The man followed his gaze to the boats and nodded. “That right. Long trip.”
“All the way from China, right?”
“Near Shanghai. Long way. Six thousand mile.”
“Why did you do it? The trip?”
“Everything bad at home. Many dead. Land bad, no food, water bad. Every year, get worse. Better try luck than die with rest.”
“How long did it take?”
“Forty day.”
Lucas tried to imagine spending almost a month and a half on the seas, headed into the unknown, braving the elements in the hopes of finding hospitable climes, and couldn’t. Then again, his forefathers had done much the same from Europe before the era of the steam engine, so it wasn’t as unexpected as it initially might seem. The big sailboats looked weathered but seaworthy, and he supposed that the ocean could more than provide adequate food for skilled fishermen.
“Were you trying to get to Oregon? Or just anywhere but China?”
“That right,” he said, not understanding the question.
“Are you happy you found Astoria?”
“Much better than home. Good fish. Things grow. Plenty rain, not many people.”
“What’s your name?”
“Me? Chen.”
Lucas extended his hand, having built as much rapport as he was going to listening to the man’s fractured backstory. “Lucas. Tell Lee I’d like to talk to him.”
“Lucas. Okay. I tell Lee.”
A question occurred to Lucas as Chen was turning to leave. “What did you do…before this, Chen?”
“You mean work?”
“That’s right.”
“In navy.”
Lucas nodded. That explained why the man would feel comfortable trying his luck on the sea. “And the rest of your people?”
“All kind.”
Lucas looked at the worker and then back to Chen. “Tell Lee.”
“I will.”
Lucas returned to Tango, uneasy with the exchange. Chen seemed to be on the level, but Lucas had no way of knowing whether Lee had actually been there the entire time, or for that matter, whether Chen was actually Lee. He untied Tango and swung up into the saddle, throwing a final look over his shoulder at where Chen and the worker were still standing, watching him, hands behin
d their backs, several others having now joined them from within the boats, like meerkats alerted to danger.
He rode to the gate and stopped to ask for directions to the bar where the doctor had been poisoned. The guards smirked and told him how to find it, and one of them shook his head as he moved to the gate to slide it open.
“Won’t be doing business at this hour.”
“That’s all right. Just want to have a look around.”
“Place is a toilet.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
The guards laughed, and the nearest one nodded. “Then you’ll get right along with that lot. Two types hang out there – low standards and no standards.”
“My kind of place.”
Lucas rode past the barrier and through the collection of tents and shanties until he reached a larger structure with a hand-painted sign announcing that he’d arrived at “The General’s.” Two rail-thin men were sweeping around the exterior, and another was barely visible inside, wiping down crates with a wet rag.
Lucas dismounted and walked Tango to a hitching post. One of the cleaners stopped what he was doing and gave Lucas a once-over.
“Place is closed.”
“The General around?” Lucas asked.
“You hard of hearing? It’s closed.”
“Didn’t ask if it was open. Asked if the General was here.”
The cleaner took in Lucas’s relaxed demeanor and the small arsenal he was toting, and thought better of his response. He twisted and called inside, and after a short wait, a tall, barrel-chested man with a silver crew cut and a face like a boxer appeared in the doorway, wearing a stained wifebeater and mirrored sunglasses.
“Who’re you, and what do you want?” the man asked gruffly.
“Wanted a word with the General.”
“That’s half of it. What about the first part?”
“Name’s Lucas. I’m helping Hayden investigate the doc’s poisoning. You the General?”
The man gave a modest bow. “Name’s Art. You want to do this out here or inside?”
The Day After Never - Insurrection (Book 5) Page 14
