The Day After Never - Retribution (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 4) (22 page)

They did as instructed and laid their handguns by their rifles.

“Now what?” Lucas asked.

“Stand still while we figure that out,” the voice said. A third man emerged from behind one of the buildings, his pump shotgun pointed at Lucas. The gunman from the entry moved into view, supported by an improvised crutch beneath one armpit, his left leg terminating in a stump, but the AKM in his right hand steady.

Lucas heard the leaves rustle behind him, and the owner of the gruff voice drew closer. “I say we shoot ’em now and be done with it,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” the man with the shotgun growled.

“Looking around, that’s all. Didn’t mean any harm,” Lucas said.

“Why?”

“My…my cousin used to live here,” Sierra managed, her voice tight.

“Your cousin?” the voice behind them demanded.

“Yes. Her name was Amy. She lived here with my son.”

The man with the crutch limped closer and regarded Sierra with milky eyes. His unruly beard was a mat of gray and black, his face deeply lined and burned the color of toffee by the sun. He studied her for a long beat and then nodded and looked over her shoulder. “You can see the resemblance. Looks a lot like Amy.” He considered Sierra for a long moment before speaking. “What was your boy’s name?” he asked, his voice now gentle.

“Tim.”

“That’s right. Of course. He used to play with my grandson, Eddie. I remember him well.”

“You do?” Sierra blurted.

“Of course. Just ’cause I’m a half-blind cripple doesn’t mean I’m daft. Remember it like it was yesterday.”

“But…you’re alive. How?”

The old man nodded like it was painful to do so and exhaled sadly. “That’s a longer story than we’ve got time for.” He motioned to their weapons. “Get yer guns and follow us. Be nightfall soon enough, and you don’t want to be out after dark.” He hesitated. “Name’s Eli. That’s Ned,” he said, indicating the man behind them. “And that there’s Frisco. Don’t let ’em scare you. Their bark’s worse than their bite.”

Chapter 33

Eli lived a twenty-minute hike from the compound, on the river side of the road, and night had fallen by the time they reached his home. The men had horses, but were limited by Sierra and Lucas’s walking pace and seemed visibly nervous as they rode.

They turned off the road onto a barely discernible track and found themselves in a densely overgrown area that appeared impenetrable. Ned dropped from the saddle and approached the wall of vegetation, felt around, and then something popped behind the leaves and he heaved a stainless steel chain-link gate open, its hinges groaning like a drunk after a three-day binge. Eli spurred his horse through the dark gap, and Frisco followed him through. Ned motioned to Lucas and Sierra with his rifle.

“Go on. Ain’t got all night.”

They moved through the opening and found themselves on the far side of a tall fence woven with vines and creepers, the cover completed with strategically placed hanging moss. Fifty yards away was a modest house with a metal roof, where two other men sat in collapsible lawn chairs by a small fire, rifles in their laps, one with a sweat-stained baseball cap emblazoned with a chewing tobacco logo.

Eli demonstrated surprising dexterity considering his age and limitations and was off his horse in moments and removing his crutch from a sling attached to his saddle. He limped to the men and had a muted discussion, and then waved Lucas and Sierra over.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating a pile of lawn chairs folded near the fire. “This here’s Art and Kenny. Boys, meet Sierra and Luke.”

Sierra had introduced them on the trek, and Lucas didn’t bother correcting Eli. He tipped the brim of his hat and nodded. “Gents.”

“What’s for dinner?” Eli asked.

“Hog stew,” Kenny said. “Again.”

Eli nodded. “Plenty for guests, I reckon.”

“Enough to feed an army,” Art said.

Eli explained to Sierra as she unfolded a chair, “Woods around here are teeming with feral hogs. Things are the size of small cars. They’ve overrun the area – probably happy as hell most of the humans got their walking papers.”

“How’s the stew?” Lucas asked.

“Tasty enough, I reckon. Only one way to know, right?” Eli said.

Ten minutes later they were spooning the pungent concoction into their mouths, the gruel surprisingly good in spite of the somewhat strong flavor of wild pig. When they’d eaten all they could, Sierra sat forward in the fire’s glow and began asking the questions that had been nagging at her since meeting their hosts.

“So you lived with Amy?” she asked.

Eli nodded. “That’s right. We all did.”

“How did you survive the raid?”

“We were on a hunting expedition. Got back and found the place destroyed.”

“What happened?”

“Near as we can reckon, the Crew decided to make an example of what happens to folks that cooperate with their enemies. At the time, the Crew claimed this part of Mississippi, but the Red Devils outta Mobile and Jackson did, too. So one day the Crew came in and wiped out our home and, with it, everybody there. Sending a message.”

“How do you know it was them?”

“They lost a bunch of men. We recognized ’em easy enough from their markings. Mansfield clan outta Alexandria.”

“Mansfield?” Lucas asked. “I thought they were Crew.”

“That’s right. They run Alexandria. They’re a chapter of the Crew. That’s how it works in the boonies.”

“So they killed everyone?” Sierra asked.

“All the adults. My daughter Kris. Your cousin Amy. About twenty-five others.”

“I didn’t realize the compound had gotten that big.”

“Yeah. Word spread we had a good thing going, so lots of folks wanted in. Probably one of the reasons the Crew took us out. Got too big for our britches, and became a target.” Eli paused. “That’s why we keep a low profile now. Ain’t good for yer health if too many know ’bout you.”

“The territory’s still being contested?”

“Oh, no. Ever since the second round of the virus hit, that’s over and done. Crew wants nothing to do with Mississippi anymore, and can’t say as I blame ’em.”

“But…you’re fine.”

“We keep to ourselves. Hunt, fish, stay off the roads. Not that there’s many out and about these days.”

“The new virus…”

“Wiped out Jackson like the wrath of the Almighty, from what I hear tell. Red Devils managed to stop it before it got to Mobile.”

“How?”

“Shot anyone tryin’ to get in.”

Lucas nodded. “That’d work.”

“Last I heard, it did. But that was spring. For all I know, someone slipped through and Mobile’s gone by now, too.” Eli shrugged. “Ain’t seen anyone to ask about it since then. Which is fine by me.”

Sierra frowned. “Wait. You said they killed all the adults. What about the children? My son? Your grandson?”

Eli stroked his beard as he considered his response. He grunted and held up his cup. “You want some moonshine?”

Sierra shook her head, and Lucas did as well. “No, thanks.”

“Ned?” Eli asked. Ned rose wordlessly and rematerialized a few minutes later with a jug. He poured a stream of amber into the old man’s cup and recorked the container, and then set it by his side and sat back down.

Eli took an appreciative sip and smacked his lips. “Don’t that just beat all. Whoo. Feel like a new man on that. Yessirree.”

“You were saying, about the children?” Sierra prodded.

“We found the bodies of the adults and a few of the young’uns. My grandson, for instance, shot twice, execution style. Best we could figure it was ’cause he put up a fight – he was older than your boy.”

“But they didn’t kill everyone?”

“We didn’t find all the bodies, if that’s what you mean.”

“My son? Tim?”

“Nope.”

Sierra eyed Lucas. “So he
is
alive. I told you. I knew it!” she said.

Eli fiddled with his cup. “Well. Could be.”

“Where did they take them?”

“Don’t know. I mean, probably Alexandria, but there’s no way of knowin’ for sure.”

“You never went after them?”

He shook his head. “Lost my foot to a snake the week after the massacre. I’m in no shape to go anywhere, much less into Crew territory. Besides, they shoot anyone from this side of the river on sight.”

“Why would they take the children?” she asked.

“The girls? Easy to figure that one out. Now, the boys, that’s a different story. Best we can figure, they probably have ’em workin’ the cane.”

Lucas frowned. “The cane?”

Ned nodded. “Sugar cane. They got a rum plant there. There’s a big demand for cheap rum, but it’s backbreakin’ work harvestin’ it and such.”

Sierra’s face fell. “They use them as slave labor?”

Eli stared into the fire like it held the answer to her question. “We heard rumors before they wiped us out. But that’s all they were. Stories.” The old man raised his head again to Sierra. “Where you been holed up all this time? Been, what, year and a half, at least, since they hit Amy’s place…”

“I was in Lubbock.”

Eli grunted. “Crew territory.”

“That’s right.”

“How was it?”

Sierra was silent for a moment. “Some places have it harder,” she said. “All in all, somewhere south of horrible and north of hell.”

That drew a cackle and another swig from the cup. “Seems like we never learn, do we?”

“How’s that?” Sierra asked, not understanding.

“Before the virus, we had a bunch of liars pretendin’ to care about us, but doin’ not much besides robbin’ us blind and stickin’ our asses in jail at the drop of a hat, usin’ us for slave labor, just like the old chain gang days. Mother Nature wipes the slate clean, and we got a different bunch doin’ basically the same thing. Makes you wonder, don’t it? Not much has changed. I was born dirt poor, worked my whole life, and got nothin’ to show for it, just like my daddy and his daddy before him.”

“What did you do?”

“Anythin’ I could. Sharecroppin’ like my daddy. Worked on a tug crew. Did my share of rig work till I got too old for it. Fixed lawn mowers, cars, refrigerators. You name it.” He looked at Lucas. “How ’bout you, young feller?”

“I was a lawman.”

He nodded slowly. “That figures. Didn’t take you for a banker or a doctor. But you look like you can handle yourself.” He took a pull on his drink. “Heard shootin’ earlier down by the river. That you?”

Sierra nodded. “Crew patrol.”

“You come over on a skiff?”

Lucas answered. “They shot it up pretty good.”

Eli took in Lucas’s face, the deep tan, the dusting of beard, the steel gray eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Goin’ back in the mornin’?”

“Probably,” Lucas allowed.

“Headed Alexandria way?”

“Maybe.” Lucas gave Eli a hint of a smile. “Always wanted to see how they make rum.”

Eli laughed, the sound dry. “Well, you got some balls on you, I’ll give you that.” He tapped on the jug and held his cup aloft. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”

Lucas shook his head. “My grandfather used to make white lightning, but I never warmed up to it. Not my thing.”

“Put hair on your chest. Not that you strike me as no choirboy.”

“Just never got the taste for it, is all.”

Eli shrugged. “Suit yourself. More for me.”

“Think we’ll have any problem getting back across?” Sierra asked.

“Dunno. Never tried. But if I was to give it a shot, I’d want to get over before sunup. No point makin’ it easy for ’em, is there?”

“Do they patrol the water? With boats?” Lucas asked.

“Those lazy bastards? Nah. No way they’d break a sweat rowin’. Easier to watch the bridge and patrol the roads.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t suppose you have an alarm clock.”

Eli’s eyes danced in the flames. “I’m an early riser.”

“You mind waking us?” Sierra asked.

“No problem. You’re welcome to take some stew, too. Should keep another day or so.”

Sierra swallowed hard. “Um, that’s very generous of you.”

“Don’t worry. We salt it before we cure the meat. You won’t get sick.” He looked at Ned and Frisco and smiled, revealing nothing but gums. “At least, not most of the time.”

“That’s mighty kind,” Lucas said. “Let’s see how we feel tomorrow.”

They continued picking the men’s brains for information on Alexandria, but quickly realized they had nothing material to add to what Eli had shared. Frisco had been to the city before the collapse, so was able to give them rough directions, but beyond that they would have to rely on their wits and Lucas’s compass.

The men retired one by one, the moonshine obviously an effective sleeping agent. Frisco announced he’d take the first watch and strode off toward the gate with his rifle and a canteen of water.

As the fire died down, Eli showed them to an area inside the house where they could sleep, and fetched a thick blanket to use as padding on the hardwood floor.

“Sorry. We don’t get a lot of guests overnightin’,” he said.

“This is great,” Sierra said.

“Where do you get your water?” Lucas asked.

“Collect it in barrels when it rains, boil river water when it doesn’t. But this time of year, it rains a fair amount.”

“Can we top off our canteens before we leave?”

“Be my guest.”

Lucas lowered himself onto the blanket and removed his hat. He looked up at the older man. “Thanks for the hospitality, Eli. Kind of you.”

“Nah. It’s nothin’,” he said.

“You short of anything? Got some extra ammo I’ve got no use for,” Lucas tried.

Eli waved the offer away. “Mostly use bows to hunt. Been savin’ the bullets fer bigger game. We’re fixed up fine.”

“You sure? Got some 5.56mm and 9mm. It’s yours if you want it. Just say the word.”

He appraised Lucas and then turned to Sierra. “You keep it. Sounds like you’ll put it to good use where you’re headed. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” He hesitated. “Where’s your boat?”

“Down by the oil rig plant.”

Eli nodded. “You should be okay on the road before dawn. Ain’t too far.”

“You have raiders and scavengers here too? Even with the virus?” Sierra asked.

“Little lady, what we got is human nature. And something like this brings out the worst in folks, even the good ones. So yes, we got our share of cutthroats working the roads. Just watch yourself and you should be fine first thing, though. They like to sleep in, generally speakin’. That life don’t attract the hard workin’.”