The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) (10 page)

“I understand. I’ll tell our friend.”

“We’re a day behind them.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The rebuke was clear in Snake’s tone.

“Couldn’t be helped.”

“So you say.”

Cano terminated the transmission and pushed away from the radio. Ben stood a few yards away, his face blank, but Cano knew he’d heard the embarrassing exchange.

“We need to get out of here now. Do you have potable water?”

“Got a well. Go ahead and top off your jugs. And you’re welcome on the radio.”

Cano took a step toward him. “You’ve been paid well.”

“No,” Ben corrected. “We’ve been promised we’d be paid well and that a messenger would arrive within a week with the gold. But so far it’s all talk, so I’d bear that in mind before you start assuming any entitlement.”

Cano looked like he’d been slapped. “We’re good for it.”

“Our usual terms are cash and carry. No tickee, no laundry.” Ben hesitated. “We made an exception for you, but that’s unusual.”

Cano frowned but nodded. “Thank you.” His expression was sour; words of gratitude were unfamiliar to a man who took what he wanted and was accustomed to having his orders followed without question.

Ben adjusted his hat. “You’re welcome. Let me show you to the well.”

Cano and Ben continued their contentious discussion as the men filled their containers, but ultimately parted ways with a handshake and a new agreement for cooperation between the Apaches and the Crew. The price would be high, but worth it, Cano believed – he just hoped Magnus would agree when he broke the news about what he’d negotiated.

Twenty minutes later they were riding north, Sammy at the head of the procession, with brimming canteens and watered horses. Cano’s mind was racing as he considered how close he’d come to catching his quarry, and he cursed the patrol’s decision not to ride all night, which would have cut the woman’s lead time to half a day – one that could have been covered at a gallop if the horses didn’t have to go any further.

From behind, Luis called out to Cano, who’d filled them in on the near miss as well as confirming their destination. “You going to bushwhack them in Albuquerque?”

“Magnus will arrange something,” replied Cano curtly.

Irritated, Luis stiffened, but he held his tongue. He filed away the dismissive snub with the litany of resentments he had accumulated, and slowed to give Cano’s horse some space, cursing Cano with each hoofbeat but secretly delighted that the woman had managed to cause the bastard such distress. Luis debated twisting the knife with another remark, but thought better of it.

No, better to let it fester in Cano’s guts and savor the man’s visible annoyance.

Chapter 17

After thirty-six hours of hard riding with only infrequent breaks to rest, Tarak stood by his horse and pointed at the orange blaze in the near distance, where the setting sun reflected off the glass of high-rises at Albuquerque Plaza.

“There it is,” Tarak said.

“We’ll make camp here,” Lucas said. They were on the bank of the Rio Grande, whose brown water flowed lazily south. There was plenty of grass for the horses in the deserted valley outside the city limits, and no signs of human inhabitants. Around them the ruins of homes and industrial buildings stretched as far as he could see, casualties of the collapse and the ensuing mayhem. Now the area was a ghost town, victim of countless fires that had blazed unfettered with nobody to extinguish them. The overall mood of the place was funereal, as though the spirits of the dead still lingered, reluctant to pass into the next world, their circumstance unbelievable in a former land of plenty.

Ruby helped Sierra unpack the horses while Lucas checked Colt’s wound, which had grown worse on the ride. He was conscious and relatively alert, but the discoloration was ominous; his skin tone was slack and pallid, his temperature high, and his thirst constant.

“Not going to win any beauty contests, huh?” Colt said as Lucas studied the leg.

“Probably going to have to shelve the marathon, too,” Lucas said. “Let’s ride into town and find a medic.”

“You think they’ll be able to do anything for me?”

“Ben recommended antibiotics. Makes sense.”

“Be dark pretty soon.”

“Then we better get going. Tarak, you want to help me get him into town?”

“Sure. I need to find a radio and check in with my headquarters – let them know we got this far.”

Lucas blotted sweat from his brow with a dirty bandanna and adjusted his hat. “Take one side and let’s get him on his horse.”

Tarak assisted, and Lucas called out to the women as he climbed into the saddle. “Keep your weapons close. Treat anything you see as a threat. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

Sierra approached him and took his hand. “Be careful, Lucas.”

“Not like I’m going into hell, Sierra. I’ve been worse places.”

“Still…watch your back.”

Lucas nodded and pressed Tango forward. Sierra’s hand slipped from his, and Colt followed with a flick of the reins, Tarak bringing up the rear.

Sierra had made a point of helping Lucas at each rest stop. She’d been overtly friendly as the trip had progressed, touching him at every opportunity to reestablish the connection they’d had when they’d kissed. Lucas couldn’t say he minded, but he found it distracting; the touch of an attractive woman was unfamiliar after so many years. She was sending signals that were unmistakable, but it wasn’t the time or place, which they both understood.

Still, it gave him something to think about, not all of it unpleasant.

Lucas shook off the reverie and glanced at Colt, who looked like the walking dead. “You’ve been to Albuquerque before, right?” he asked.

“Sure. On my way to Roswell.”

“Where’s the best place to find a doc?”

“I have no idea. I spent one day there bartering for supplies. Didn’t have any need for one, so I never asked.”

“How’s security in the city?”

“Open borders. They have community policing by the militia. Seemed okay, not great. Town’s wide open, big on trading because of the river and its proximity to Colorado. Sort of a crossroads, so it’s got more opportunity than most places.”

“That’s good. Increases our chances that someone’s got meds.”

“Hope so. I’m about ready to cut the damn thing off, it hurts so much.”

Ben had probably been right that Colt hadn’t gotten much venom, but even the little amount had worked its magic worse than Lucas had ever seen – not that he had much experience with bites, other than what his grandfather had taught him. Colt’s leg looked ugly, and a part of Lucas cringed inwardly every time he inspected the wound.

Lucas addressed Tarak. “You know anyone with a radio?”

The guide nodded. “There are several who rent time.”

“How long are you going to need? I hate to leave the women by themselves.”

“No more than an hour, tops. Don’t worry about them. I’ll see they’re taken care of.”

“You have any ideas on where to take Colt?”

Tarak shook his head. “Never had any need to find a medicine man there. Sorry.”

A half hour later they entered the city and Tarak rode off down one of the wide avenues while Lucas and Colt took a smaller street north. They hadn’t gotten more than two blocks when they were stopped by a group of four gunmen in blue camouflage uniforms. Each wore a red armband and a flak jacket and carried a rifle.

“Help you find something?” one of the men asked.

“My friend’s hurt. We need a doctor. Best outfitted in town.”

“We got a few of them. What’s wrong?”

“Snakebite.”

The man looked at his companions. One of them glanced down the street. “Probably best to look for Doc Hodges, over by the old Presbyterian Hospital. He’s in one of the buildings across the street. Single story, wood shingles.”

“Think he’ll be open after dark?” Lucas asked.

The man nodded. “That’s where a lot of emergency cases in these parts wind up.”

“How do we get there?”

The man gave him directions, and Lucas nodded his thanks. “Is it safe to move around at night?”

“Wouldn’t recommend it if you don’t have to, but doesn’t seem like you got a lot of choice.”

The buildings degraded as they rode along the highway, the ruins telling the same bleak story of destruction and chaos everywhere else did. If Lucas was hoping to find evidence that humanity had a running chance, he’d have to look farther than Albuquerque, which showed the effects of entropy and wanton destruction that were the collapse’s legacy.

It was almost pitch black out by the time they turned off the highway, and Lucas had to use his NV monocle to navigate. They passed several groups of street dwellers gathered around fires, who watched them ride by with the fearful expressions of whipped dogs. It was amazing to Lucas that five years after the collapse so many were living day-to-day rather than having structured something more permanent. He couldn’t fathom that existence; but then again, as a saddle bum without a home now, he wasn’t much better.

They found the doctor’s clinic on the right, across from a massive parking lot with a darkened hulk of a building at the far end. A pair of torches lit an entry, where two armed guards stood with shotguns, watching Lucas and Colt’s approach. When they drew up to the entrance, Lucas called to them, “This Doc Hodges?”

“That’s right. What you got?”

“Man’s been snakebit. Rattler. Needs to see the doctor. He still around?”

“He is if you got ammo to trade.”

“I do.”

“Then tie your horses over there and come in. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

One of the men ducked through the steel door and disappeared inside. “You have electricity?” Lucas asked the other, seeing a glow when the door opened.

“Solar. But only for a few lights at night. Batteries are for shit.”

“Yeah, same story everywhere. Weakening with age.”

Lucas helped Colt down and they moved to the entrance. The guard held the door open for them, and the one that had gone inside motioned to them from the end of a dimly lit hall.

“Over here.”

They found a surprisingly clean room, empty except for a steel-top exam table and a single chair. A fluorescent bulb provided scant illumination, and Lucas had barely gotten Colt onto the table when a short man with white hair entered, wearing a stained lab coat.

“What have we got here?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Hodges.” He named a fee for the exam, and Lucas nodded agreement. The doctor stood, waiting, and Lucas counted out ten rounds of ammo and handed them over. Hodges pocketed them and eyed Colt expectantly, a pair of scratched reading glasses with one cracked lens perched precariously on the end of his nose.

“I got bit by a rattler.”

“So my man says. How long ago?”

“Two and a half days.”

“Well, you’re alive. Let’s have a look at it.”

Lucas removed the bandage and Hodges examined Colt’s leg. He noted with a grunt the discoloration that had crept to the knee, and carefully probed the wound area with his fingers. Yellow pus oozed from the bite marks, and he frowned.

“It’s infected. Venom’s through your system by now, but there’s some possible necrosis and a lot of pus. You need antibiotics.”

“You have some?” Lucas asked.

“They aren’t cheap.”

“I’m not looking for a bargain. Are they expired?”

“Got some that are. Others that aren’t. Depends on how much they’re worth to you. He’s going to need ten days’ worth, at least.”

“How much for the ones that are still good?”

Hodges thought for a minute, studying Lucas like he was something stuck to a lab slide. When he told Lucas the price, he sounded embarrassed by how high it was.

“And the others? When did they expire?” Lucas fired back.

“Three years ago. They’re a lousy bet with a life-threatening infection.”

“Where did you get the ones that are still good?”

“Traders from Lubbock. They make them there.”

Lucas recalled Jacob’s story about the lab manufacturing pharmaceuticals for trade. “You’re sure they’re not bogus?”

“I’ve treated others with them. They’re the genuine article.”

“I don’t have that much ammo I can spare.” Lucas frowned. “But I have gold.”

“What kind?”

“Maple Leaf. One ounce. Way more than the medicine’s worth.”

“That’s okay. I can make change. Let’s call it a half ounce of gold for a full course, and I’ll throw in the exam tonight and another in ten days.”

“That’s extortionate.”

“Your friend’s life isn’t worth it? He’ll die if you don’t get him on meds immediately. Tell you what. I’ll even prepare a solution and give him a drip with some to kick-start the treatment.”

“How long will that take?”

“Ideally he’d spend the night.”

Lucas looked to Colt. “You heard the man.”

“I’ll see you’re repaid later,” Colt promised.

“We’ll work it out,” Lucas replied.

“Are you allergic to any medications?” Hodges asked.

“No. I mean, none I’m aware of.”

“Ever had penicillin before?”

“Couple times.”

“All right, then. Show me the money, and we’ll get this train rolling.”

Lucas dug a coin from his pocket and placed it in the doctor’s hand, who inspected it in the faint light and nodded. “I’ll be back with your change and an IV bag.” He leaned toward Colt. “And a pillow. That bed gets mighty hard overnight.”

“I’ve slept on worse.”

Lucas waited by Colt’s side until the doctor returned. He handed Lucas his change in the form of a scratched, weathered half-ounce Maple Leaf, whose 9999 gold content made it so soft the slightest abrasion would mar it. Lucas glanced at the tooth marks in the surface and pocketed it as Hodges ran a line into Colt’s arm and hung an IV bag on a stainless steel stand.

“Where did you get the solution?” Lucas asked.

“I make and purify it myself. It’s just saline. Neutral.” He held up a syringe. “I diluted some pills. This will go straight into his bloodstream and hopefully deliver a knockout punch.”

Colt closed his eyes as the physician emptied the syringe into the bag and then hooked it up to the line, adjusting the drip so that it trickled a droplet every ten seconds. “This bag will drain in a couple of hours. I’ll do two more over the course of the night, the second and third slightly slower. You going to camp out here?”