The Day After Never (Book 7): Havoc

by Blake, Russell

  Lucas moved to another spot and fired twice at an approaching shooter. He didn’t wait for a response and ran ten yards along the wall to a window opening and peered out, waiting. There was no more gunfire for several seconds, and then the clink of metal on cement sounded from where he’d just been.

  He threw himself behind a pile of rubble, and a grenade detonated with a roar. Lucas knew that they’d rush the building immediately after the explosion, and ejected his spent magazine and slapped another in place. He wouldn’t have time to find new cover before they appeared, so the rubble would have to do.

  Two bikers came through the doorway at the same time with guns blazing. Lucas drilled the first one through the throat and switched to three-round burst as the second dove to the side, evading his fire. He squeezed off a burst as the man freed another grenade from his vest, and one of Lucas’s rounds hit his leg. The gunman screamed in pain and dropped the grenade, and Lucas cringed as it exploded. The force of the detonation shook the rafters and sprayed his rubble pile with shrapnel and biker.

  Lucas forced himself to his feet and moved back to the window just in time to see another slew of dark forms emerge from the darkness beneath the overpass. He debated picking off some of them, but decided against it – there were too many. Right now they had no way of knowing whether the grenades had finished Lucas off, and he saw nothing to be gained by offering them any information about his continued existence.

  He spun and made for the collapsed area where Bill and Sam had disappeared, and had just passed through it when shots rang out behind him and rounds ricocheted off the brick by his head. Then he was around the corner and running as fast as he could, covering the ground between the building and the first of the wood-frame homes across the road in record time. He disappeared into its side yard, hopefully before the bikers would be able to make it through the building.

  “Lucas!” Bill called from his right.

  He veered toward another structure and spotted Bill and Sam by its side. Lucas ran to them, and they ducked around it and then hastened together through a grove of trees before emerging at a parking lot on the far side.

  “We need to get the horses,” Lucas said. “We can circle back. They’ll assume we took off into that neighborhood. That would be the smart thing to do.”

  “Which is why we won’t?” Sam asked.

  “I’m not leaving Tango behind. And you’re not walking out of here under your own steam.”

  “Fair point.”

  A long building loomed in front of them. “What’s that?” Lucas asked.

  “Another school,” Sam said.

  “What’s west of it?”

  “Big road, train tracks, and the hospital, far as I remember.”

  “Is there enough for us to get lost in?”

  “Should be. As long as we stay off the streets.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Torchlight illuminated the university grounds as they circled around it. The bikers were now on full alert, and any hope of launching a surprise attack was lost. Fortunately for Lucas, they seemed reluctant to leave the campus, which made sense – they had no way of knowing whether the attack had been intended to draw them out so they could be ambushed, or even how many had been responsible for the incursion.

  Lucas switched off his scope, aware that he’d need the juice if they ran into any more threats.

  Forty minutes later, they reached their horses and were in the saddle.

  “Now what?” Bill asked.

  “We’re going to need something heavier than rifles to tackle them now they’re locked down in the buildings,” Lucas said. “Not sure the grenades are going to be enough.”

  “Then…what?” Sam asked.

  “Mortars, at the very least. Howitzers would be better, but…”

  Sam nodded. “I know a guy who raided the national guard armory after the virus hit. He cleaned the place out with his buds and now makes a living selling ordnance.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Over on Minto Island. He’s kind of a hermit out there.”

  “Think you could find his place?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then that’s our next stop.”

  “You still thinking of doing this tonight?”

  Lucas nodded. “An hour before dawn. They’ll be dead tired by then from the stress of staying awake all night. If we can use their nerves against them, that’ll go a long way.”

  “Or we could wait until tomorrow night.”

  Lucas shook his head. “That’ll give them a chance to move or to harden the area further. Right now they don’t know what’s outside the walls, so they won’t risk trying to put snipers in the surrounding buildings, or any of the rest of the things they should do. But by tomorrow they’ll have figured it out. So it’s tonight, whether we like it or not.”

  Bill nodded. “He’s right. But if it’s rifles against rifles, they’ll have the advantage firing from defensive positions. They can just pick us off as we try to overwhelm them.”

  “Bill, ride back and tell Art what happened,” Lucas said. “We’ll meet up with you as soon as we’ve got what we need.”

  Bill regarded him and then jerked his horse’s head to the right. “Good luck.”

  Sam and Lucas watched him ride away.

  “How far’s your buddy from here?” Lucas asked.

  “Couple of miles downriver. Not much there besides his place.” He hesitated. “I’ve got to warn you, though, he’s an ornery old bastard. He’s as likely to shoot us as to greet us at this hour.”

  “Let’s go wake him up.”

  Chapter 20

  Amber Hot Springs, Colorado

  Duke slumbered in his tent outside the cabin where the women were sleeping. The moon was a golden disk in the night sky surrounded by a constellation of glimmering stars, their light bathing the hot springs in a pale glow. Predawn gusts of wind tugged at the tent’s fabric, dented the treetops, and drove sprays of dust along the main path that connected the string of dwellings.

  The door of the cabin opened, and Ellen’s head popped out. She glanced in both directions before her gaze settled on the thermal plant seventy-five yards away. She stepped out and the sisters followed her toward the plant, leaving the cabin door open, their saddles over their shoulders.

  They stopped at the fenced-in clearing that served as the town’s corral, and their horses whinnied and trotted over to them. Monica unfastened the rope that bound the makeshift gate closed and let them out, and the women saddled them up with silent efficiency. Tracie ran back to the cabin and returned with the saddlebags, and then they led the horses along the central path until they were near Sierra’s cabin.

  Ellen tied her animal to a low branch, and the sisters did the same. The horses stood obediently, watching with silent eyes. Monica removed a length of rope from one of her saddlebags and Tracie did the same, and Ellen removed a bundle of rags from hers. She turned to Monica and nodded, and they walked resolutely together to the cabin door, where they paused and listened.

  A minute went by, and Ellen nodded and pushed on the door. It opened, its rope hinges silent, and they stepped into a single darkened room. The only light came from two windows cut from the wood, empty of glass.

  Sierra was lying on her side on a bedroll on the floor with Eve beside her, a heavy wool blanket over them. Tim had his own bedroll on the other side of the room. Ellen handed Tracie a rag and signaled for her to move to where the boy slept. As she did so, Monica and Ellen edged toward Sierra, who stirred when one of the floorboards creaked.

  Ellen and Monica froze and waited until Sierra exhaled softly and pulled the blanket to her chin. They exchanged a glance, and then Ellen stood over her, rifle in one hand and rags in the other.

  Sierra must have sensed the movement, because she half sat up and cracked her eyes open.

  “Wha–”

  Ellen slammed Sierra in the head with her AK, and she fell back against the bedroll, stunned.

 
Ellen set her gun on the floor, and she and Monica moved quickly when Eve awoke and sprang to her feet. Ellen grabbed the little girl’s arms, and Monica jammed a rag into her mouth so she couldn’t scream. Eve struggled against Ellen’s grip, but she was no match for the woman’s strength, and Monica ducked behind her and tied her wrists using a length of rope while she squirmed and sobbed into the rag.

  Tim woke up and found himself staring down the muzzle of Tracie’s pistol. Ellen crossed the room in a few steps and jammed a rag into his mouth.

  “Tie him up,” she whispered, and looked him dead in the eyes. “You make a peep and we’ll kill your mommy – understand?”

  Tears welled in his eyes, and he snuffled as he nodded once. Tracie holstered her gun and bound his wrists and then his ankles, using the same length of rope.

  Sierra moaned, and Monica looked to Ellen, who drew her revolver and pointed it at Sierra’s head.

  “Don’t say a word or I’ll blow your brains out,” she threatened in a low voice. She tossed Monica a rag, and Monica jammed it in Sierra’s mouth, ignoring the blood running from her hairline.

  Sierra kicked at her, but her reflexes were impaired from the blow, and she missed. Ellen booted her in the ribs, and she moaned and curled into a ball.

  Monica roughly tied Sierra’s hands and legs. Ellen watched, one hand on Eve’s bindings to keep her from bolting for the door. When Monica was finished, she stepped back and inspected her work in the dim moonlight. Ellen nodded and looked to Tracie.

  “Come on,” she whispered, and the three of them dragged Eve from the cabin and out into the frigid night. She struggled and tried to kick them, but her forty pounds wasn’t up to doing any damage, and they easily manhandled her to the horses.

  Ellen knelt so she was at eye level and frowned at the little girl. “You keep putting up a fight and I’ll go back and slit your mother’s throat, understand? So if you want her to die, keep it up.”

  Eve’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Ellen slid a wicked-looking hunting knife from a belt scabbard and held it up so the light glinted from its blade. Eve whimpered into the rag, and Ellen nodded. The little girl wouldn’t pose any more problem.

  Ellen swung into the saddle, and Tracie and Monica lifted Eve and draped her over the horse’s shoulders, facedown in front of the saddle horn. Tracie untied the reins and handed them to Ellen, and then did the same with her horse and climbed into the saddle. Monica did as well and slid her rifle sling from her shoulder and looked to Ellen, who nodded and wheeled her mount towards the main track that led out of town.

  The horses followed the dirt strip between the cabins, nothing stirring in any of the dwellings. They reached the edge of the clearing, and a voice called out from behind them.

  “You! Hold it right there!”

  They spurred their horses forward, and Ellen’s and Tracie’s took off at a gallop. Monica spun and emptied half her magazine at the approaching figures. The shots shattered the valley’s calm as the burst cut both men down. One of them screamed as he dropped, and then Monica was in motion, her horse bolting after the others, its hooves thumping against the hard-packed ground.

  The closest guard squeezed off a blast from his shotgun that went badly wide, and then the shotgun slipped from his grip as he bled out. Cabin doors flew open, and startled residents emerged with rifles in hand and ran barefoot to the fallen guards as others swept the surroundings with their guns in case of attack.

  Arnold and Elliot approached with a lantern and a pair of assault rifles and stopped at the first of the fallen guards. Duke came at a run with his M16 at present arms, his hair askew, eyes wild.

  “What the–” he started, but Arnold cut him off with a curt gesture.

  “Shhh. They could still be watching us.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned to the throng of men that had gathered around him. “Set up a perimeter and keep your wits about you.”

  Duke looked down the trail. “Why would anyone shoot the guards and not keep coming?”

  Arnold shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe they were trying to sneak into town and rob some of the cabins in silence. The guards stopped them, and the shooting drove them off.”

  He stooped over the second guard, who was gasping for breath.

  “Did you see who did this?” Arnold asked.

  “I… Three…”

  “Three shooters?”

  A rattle from the dying man’s throat answered, and then a groan. He died halfway through an exhalation and shuddered and lay still.

  Arnold straightened. “Could have been scavengers. But that’s not how they usually work.”

  Duke eyed the dead men and shook his head. “Bastards. What was the point?”

  Arnold turned to face the crowd. Elliot stepped forward, knelt beside the dead man, and closed his eyes. When he stood, his expression was grim. “I don’t know,” Elliot said. “But whoever they were, they’re going to pay for this. Two good men dead for nothing. That won’t go unanswered.”

  Chapter 21

  Salem, Oregon

  A mist threaded through the reeds like ghostly fingers along the road to Minto Island. The air was heavy with the smell of the nearby water and wet grass mingled with wood smoke that seemed to permeate everything. Sam rode ahead of Lucas, guiding them down the railroad tracks, the night quiet except for the rush of the Willamette River to the west.

  He slowed and Lucas caught up to him. Sam pointed at a farmhouse surrounded by a brick wall, topped by coils of barbed wire and what looked suspiciously like a machine gun nest on the roof.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Sam nodded. “Clovis kept a .50-caliber Browning for home defense. He’s never had a problem with anyone trying to break in, so it was a good move. Even the bikers give him a wide berth. He let everyone know he was itching for an excuse to use it, and they believe him. If you knew the man, you’d understand why.”

  “Smart. Wonder if he’s got any more of them?”

  “If he doesn’t shoot us, you can ask him.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Well enough, but it’s been a few years. Let’s hope his memory isn’t gone.”

  They turned off the tracks and rode toward the compound. When they reached the steel slab gate, Sam pulled on a rope hanging on one side, and a bell clanged at the house. They waited a few minutes, and when nobody answered, Sam yanked it again, this time several times.

  “You got any idea what time it is?” a voice called from behind the gate. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Clove! It’s Sam. From the camp. Sorry to wake you.”

  “Sam? I thought you was dead.”

  “Only half.”

  A phlegmy cough answered, and then a plate in the gate slid to the side and a weathered, pockmarked face with a bulbous nose and a web of ruptured capillaries running across it stared out at them. “Who’s the cowboy?”

  “Friend of mine.”

  “Yeah? What do you boys want at this hour? I need my beauty rest. You’re lucky I didn’t open up on you when you rang the bell.”

  “Lucas here’s got a need for some stuff.” Sam paused. “The kind you keep in the cellar.”

  “You got something to trade?” Clovis asked, focusing on Lucas.

  Lucas nodded. “Sure do.”

  “This ain’t no dollar store,” Clovis warned, and shut the slab. A moment later, the gate groaned to the side on a wheeled track and opened just enough for them to ride through one at a time.

  Clovis shut the door behind them and slid a railroad spike into the clasp. “You can tie up your nags over there,” he said, indicating a hitching post.

  They dismounted and waited for him to shuffle toward the house. His bathroom slippers were filthy and worn, and his gray sweatpants and Willamette University sweatshirt stained and rumpled. “Well, come on in, then. No point in freezing out here.”

  He escorted them into a large living room that was surpr
isingly clean, its Spartan furnishings dusted and gleaming in the LED lighting. Clovis sat down in a leather reclining chair and indicated a sofa. They sat, and he gave Lucas a rheumy stare.

  “So you need some gear?”

  Lucas nodded. “That’s right. The heavier the better.”

  “How heavy?”

  “I’ll take whatever you’ve got. Mortars, .50 cals, grenades, antitank rockets, you name it.”

  Clovis’s eyebrows rose. “You fixin’ to start a war?”

  “You could say that.”

  “With who?”

  Lucas matched his stare. “That got anything to do with our business?”

  Sam intruded. “Clovis isn’t a big fan of authority.”

  “I’d have never guessed.”

  “So who you fixin’ to hit with all this?” Clovis repeated.

  Lucas eyed Sam, who nodded.

  “The bikers in Salem,” Sam said.

  Clovis cackled, and it degraded into another racking cough. When he caught his breath, he shook his head. “Just you two? Gonna need a tank at the very least.”

  “We’ve got friends,” Sam said. “But the bikers have good gear, too.”

  “But they don’t know how to use it. Buncha pussies, if you ask me.” Clovis squinted at them. “How many men you need to equip?”

  “A lot. But we’re already fixed up with rifles and ammo and a few grenades.”

  “How you plan to pay for all this? It’s a tall order.”

  “Gold,” Lucas said.

  “Now you’re talking. How much?”

  “As much as it takes.”

  Clovis stood with a broad grin. “Then come to my office and I’ll show you what I got.” He looked to Sam. “You vouching for him?”

  Sam nodded. “I brought him here, didn’t I?”

  Clovis stared him down. “What happened to your leg?”

  “Tripped.”

  “You look like you been dragged back of a mule train and put away wet.”