The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) (22 page)

The Crew gunman didn’t respond, instead dropping from the saddle and moving cautiously down the trail. Luis couldn’t see what had spooked the man, but followed his lead and dismounted, gun in hand. He crept after Ross, heart hammering in his chest, and then froze at the sight of the corpses near the water’s edge.

Hundreds of flies buzzed around the scattering of bodies. Ross held a finger to his lips and edged into the clearing, leading with his assault rifle, his expression agitated. Luis maintained his position, uninterested in learning whether whoever had killed everyone was still around. He busied himself with counting the bodies while Ross moved toward the dead, and came up four short – the woman and three men weren’t there.

Ross toed one of the corpses and recoiled at the mound of insects that had consumed most of its face. He moved to the next and found the same, and did a quick inspection of the area before returning to Luis, his skin gray beneath the veneer of prison ink that covered his face.

“Missing four,” Luis whispered.

“Yeah. They been dead a while. Least a day. Maybe more. Stink something fierce, and they’re bloated like balloons.”

“Cano one of them?”

Ross shook his head. “Don’t see his vest.”

Great
, Luis thought. The one he’d been praying would choke on a chicken bone had survived.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“We should spread out and search the perimeter. Could be more there.”

Ross nodded and nodded to his left. “I’ll go that way.” He stopped after a few steps. “No sign of their horses. Or their guns.”

“Raiding party?”

“Don’t know. But someone cleaned them out.”

Luis ascended to the rise where the lookout had been stationed and stopped near the tree. He called to Ross in a tight voice, and the Crew gunman came at a run.

“What is it?” he asked.

Luis pointed at the bodies. “The rest. All dead. Whoever got them did it silently.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the ones around the fire died where they lay. If they’d had any warning, they would have taken up better defensive positions.”

Ross looked over the bodies. “No Cano.”

“Not yet,” Luis agreed.

They continued searching until Ross gave a yell. Luis followed his voice until they were both standing over what had until recently been the bane of Luis’s existence. Ross’s expression was grave.

“That’s everyone.” He looked around. “I wonder who got them?”

Luis shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter much. We need to get out of here, though, in case they come back.”

Ross shook his head. “No. Our orders were to stay put and wait for Magnus.”

“Those were Cano’s instructions. And they didn’t work out so well for him, did they?”

“Doesn’t matter. He was the top Crew boss here, and that’s what he wanted.”

“Well, I’m now the top Crew dog, and I’m saying we go back to Albuquerque and wait for Magnus to arrive.”

Ross sneered. “You’re not Crew. I am, which makes me the boss.”

“You seem to be confused. The Locos are part of the Crew. That was the deal. I’m the head of the Locos. That means what I say goes.”

Ross shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that deal, but Cano wanted us to wait here, Magnus is expecting to meet us here, and nothing you say changes that. So I say we stay and wait for Magnus.”

As Luis had feared, Cano’s disrespect of Luis had infected his men, and now this foot soldier believed himself to be Luis’s equal, if not his superior. Luis couldn’t allow that to stand, and as Ross turned dismissively, Luis pulled his H&K 9mm from its holster and fired two rounds into the back of Ross’s head. The Crew thug tumbled forward and Luis sprang into motion, resigned to dragging Ross to the river and disposing of his body so there was no evidence of the execution.

Luis would concoct a story for Magnus, assuming he even missed Ross, which was unlikely if he was heading up an army. But in the event he did, Luis would tell a tale of having gone back into town for supplies at Cano’s orders and, upon his return, finding the camp slaughtered.

A thought occurred to Luis as he neared the camp area with Ross. He hastily removed the Crew gunman’s flak jacket and leather vest and carried it to Tarak’s deteriorating remains. Luis held his breath as he stripped Tarak’s shirt from his maggot-infested carcass and pulled Ross’s gear onto the Apache. When he was finished, he stepped back and inspected his work.

By the time Magnus made it there, all the bodies would be skeletons. One would look the same as the other, and only the clothes would identify which piles of bones were Crew and which were hired hands.

Luis dragged Ross’s body into the shallows and pushed him into the current, where the body bobbed as it turned over and drifted down the muddy current.

He collected Ross’s weapons and carried them to his horse, and was riding back to Albuquerque minutes later with Ross’s steed in tow; his animal and ammunition would provide sufficient barter to maintain a high lifestyle until Magnus arrived. Whoever had killed Cano had done Luis a favor – now Luis was once again the head of the Locos and, as far as Magnus was concerned, a valued ally.

Chapter 39

Arnold inspected one of the twenty bounding mines his trading team had bartered for in Santa Fe – stolen from an armory, they were complete and appeared to be in good shape. The foray had been a worthwhile exercise, and they had increased their stores of weapons significantly, along with some rare finds like the mines, which were deadly up to a hundred yards.

“These look like they’ll do the job,” he said, nodding. “What about explosives?”

“We scored a few hundred pounds of TNT from a mining warehouse. Some of it was useless. We only bought the stuff that had been well taken care of,” Toby said. “It also had thirty kilos of RDX we took for land mines and avalanches.”

“Good. We’ll deploy those mines in the canyon.” Arnold gave Toby a grim smile. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those.”

Toby nodded. A bounding mine would launch three to five feet into the air before detonating, spraying shrapnel and ball bearings in all directions.

“We also bought a gross of blasting caps. Scavengers pulled them out of steering wheels. You know the story.”

Blasting caps were used to inflate air bags.

“Sounds like we’re set on that front,” Arnold said.

“How’s the napalm going?” Toby asked.

“Good. We figure we can have fifty gallons of it ready. We found some gas that’s still good enough for that and plenty of candle wax. And we finally have a good use for all the milk jugs we were saving for a rainy day.” Arnold paused. “I warned everyone about handling them, of course.”

“You sure about the Armstrong’s mix for the detonator?” Armstrong’s mixture was a combination of ground match heads and small amounts of the strike faces from match books. It was highly explosive, but unstable. They’d discussed taping pouches of it to the milk cartons – when the containers were dropped from the plane, the pouches would explode and the homemade napalm would catch, showering anyone within range with liquid fire. It was crude, but would be lethal on troops in the open.

“Sure. It’s a homemade blasting cap that’ll detonate on impact and ignite the napalm. It’s either that or use up some of the caps you got. But I don’t want to waste them if we don’t have to.”

“Any idea where you want to plant the anti-vehicle mines?”

“Lucas suggested the approach to the bridge, which we’re going to blow tomorrow. And we’ll string a bunch on the secondary approach to the valley, just in case. We can’t rule out that they’ll try to mount a pincer attack once they see how tough the going is through the canyons.”

“I gather you have a contingency to move most of the defense force to that area if they do.”

“Of course, but we’ll see how it works in practice.” Arnold frowned. “Lucas is advocating hitting them fairly far from home so they’ve already taken heavy casualties before they get here for the main show.”

“Makes sense.”

“Sure, and with unlimited personnel and ammo, I’d be all over it. But we’ve only got a couple hundred capable adults and, of those, fewer than a hundred that have any real experience. I think it’s a bad idea to risk any – especially the most capable, which is who we’d want to send.”

“No word yet on how big the attack force actually is?”

“Nope. We won’t know for sure until they hit Albuquerque. But we have to assume the worst.”

“You really think a thousand men can make it from Houston?”

“If they have fuel, sure. At any rate, I’m handling preparations like they will. So’s everyone else.”

Toby shook his head. “Four to one. Miserable odds.”

“No question. Our only advantage is it’s our home turf, so we can prep for an ugly welcome.”

“Ken and Richard going to handle the bridge?”

“Yeah. We keep going back and forth on that with Michael and Elliot.”

“What’s to disagree about?”

“They want to wait and blow it when the Crew’s on it; my vote is to do it in advance. We have a meeting later, and I’m going to put my foot down. Michael’s exerting way too much influence over these decisions. He’s going to get a lot of people killed if I don’t rein him in.”

“I can see the point about blowing it while they’re on it. More casualties, and the psychological effect would be incredible.”

“No question. It all sounds good. Until something goes wrong. Like a blasting cap doesn’t trigger. Something fizzles out. They spot our men. Then they have unrestricted road all the way to the canyon. If we do it my way, we forego the shock and awe, but we stop them fifteen miles away and force them to schlep in on foot or horseback. And any heavy gear they’ve brought will be stopped at the bridge.”

Toby’s eyes widened. “You think they’ll have armor or something? Tanks?”

“Probably not tanks. They’re a bitch to maintain. But I could be wrong.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We’ll meet this evening. I’ve drawn up a map for the minefields so we’ll remember where we planted them once this is over. Now that I know how much explosive we have to work with, I can do some calculations to determine how many anti-vehicle mines we can make, and how much we’ll need for the bridge. That’s going to be harder than it sounds, but the RDX will inflict some damage.”

“When do we deploy?”

“Depending on what’s decided tonight, I’ll assemble a crew to mine the roads first. Then we’ll do the closer work – the bridge and the canyons. The mines will be hands off, which I like.” Arnold sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a half dozen helicopters and some sidewinders. Those would make short work out of a column.”

“Or some drones. Why not dream big?”

Arnold smiled ruefully. “Yeah. As it is, we’re better than catapults and swords, but not very. Anyone we don’t stop with the fireworks is where it’s going to get snotty. Then we’re in a straight firefight, and you know as well as I do how unpredictable those can be.”

Both men had seen their share of combat before the collapse and after. One truism was that no matter how dependable someone was, until they’d been tested under fire, there were no guarantees how they would perform. It was a coin toss how much of their defense force would actually be lethal and how many would be disasters waiting to happen. With limited ammunition and a large attacking force, if many of the defenders panicked or were inept, their paradise would be overrun.

“Sounds like we need to do most of the damage before they make it through the canyon.”

“That’s the plan.” Arnold exhaled noisily. “Elliot has a dozen people working on manufacturing a crap ton of black powder, too. I suggested that to keep them busy. We can use it for the secondary approaches.”

“Good idea.” Toby thought for a moment. “What do you make of Lucas?”

“He’s dangerous, but quiet. No bluster to him. Unlike Michael, he knows what it’s like to be in the shit, and everything he’s suggested has been practical and valid. I’m warming up to him.”

“Good. We need every able-bodied man we can get.”

“No kidding. Here’s hoping this meeting goes well.”

“Just you, Michael, and the Doc?” Toby asked.

“And Lucas. Elliot likes him. I don’t mind – he’s a good counterbalance to Michael.”

Toby made a face. “Enjoy yourself. Sounds like a hoot.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Chapter 40

Duke heard an approaching roar from the south before he saw anything – the sound of dozens of big engines belching exhaust, the motors deafening after five years of silence. Everyone in the trading post stopped what they were doing. Tucker had dropped by to shoot the breeze, as he did many mornings, and he, Duke, and Aaron swung their heads toward the entrance at the same time. Aaron rose from where he was seated behind the counter, his AR-15 in hand as a deterrent against would-be thieves.

“What the hell is that?” Tucker exclaimed, moving to the doors.

They stepped out into the sunlight and watched as a motorcade rolled down the main street, led by a dozen Humvees equipped with .50-caliber machine guns manned by tattooed Crew gunmen. The convoy stopped in front of the trading post, and a powerfully muscled man climbed from the lead vehicle, followed by six gunmen, all armed to the teeth. Duke and Tucker took in the leader’s elaborately inked head and exchanged a quick glance as he approached.

“You the traders?” Magnus demanded.

Tucker nodded. “That’s right. What can I do for you fellas?”

“I need everything you got. Your entire inventory. Weapons, ammo, explosives, the works. And I’ll also need all the horses you can round up, as well as food and water for my men.”

Tucker took in the endless column of trucks and buses. “How many men?”

“A thousand.”

Tucker nodded as though he received that sort of request every day. “How you paying?”

“We’re good for it,” Magnus snapped. “I’m the leader of the Crew. Out of Houston. Magnus. You’ve heard of me?”

Tucker looked Magnus up and down. “Our policy’s no credit. Sorry. Can’t give you my entire inventory based on a bet you’ll pay later. It would clean me out, and I have to eat in the meantime.” Tucker glanced at the Humvees. “Seems to me you must have some barterable goods. Ammo. Guns.”