The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) Read online

  He kept his ruminations to himself, but made a note to talk to Colt in private to see if he had any plans he hadn’t shared. If there was a river or a lake somewhere along their route, they’d be fine, but if he was serious about making Albuquerque before their water ran dry, they were risking everything on a plan where even the slightest delay or mistake could cost them their lives.

  Chapter 6

  Duke finished his breakfast and sat back against the tree that was providing welcome shade. He’d caught a plump bass that morning and cooked it over a low fire, and he and Aaron had eaten their fill, along with some rice boiled in brook water. Aaron burped from his position across from Duke, his AR-15 on his lap.

  “That was great,” Aaron said.

  “Nothing like fresh fish,” Duke agreed. “Nice enough day. Too bad we have to move. Body could get used to this for a while.”

  “I hear you.” Aaron paused. “So when are we going to ride?”

  Duke sighed. “I’m tempted to hang out another day, but that wouldn’t be smart. Let’s get a few miles under our belts and see what we find.”

  “Anything around here in particular?”

  “Lucas’s place is up by Loving. He said it got looted, but it may be okay to spend the night there. If it’s still got a decent wall standing and good lines of sight, couldn’t hurt.”

  “Won’t the bad guys be looking for him?”

  Duke shrugged. “Sure. But they’ve probably been over Loving and his ranch a dozen times by now. He’s long gone, which even a bunch as dim as the Locos will figure out. Besides, it’s a long way from Pecos. I don’t see them parking a bunch of gunmen there on the off chance he shows up.”

  They mounted up and set their horses north, sticking to the ridgeline. From their vantage point they could see everything on the plains below them, and Duke spent much of the ride searching the horizon for threats.

  They made better time than Duke had hoped, and it was late afternoon when they came across the remnants of Lucas’s ranch. They rode through the entry, greeted by a dust devil twisting across the interior field that served as the courtyard.

  Duke pointed at the iron gate. “Think we can wedge that into position for the night?”

  Aaron regarded the metal slab, which had been knocked off its tracks. “Maybe. Might as well try.”

  They dismounted and put their backs into it, but couldn’t budge the heavy barrier. Duke rigged up a rope to his horse, and Aaron did the same, and then together they were able to drag it upright and across the gap.

  Duke inspected the result and nodded. “That should hold.”

  “Not if there’s more than a couple of attackers.”

  “No reason for anyone to try. Look around – the place has been gutted. I’d bet word’s spread among the scavengers there’s nothing left.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Aaron said doubtfully.

  “Me too.”

  The main ranch house had been ransacked, and not a stick of furniture remained unbroken or a window intact. Duke walked grimly through the house, leading with his rifle, and when he reached the master bedroom, stiffened at the doorway. Someone had defecated in the center of the mattress, and the room was thick with flies.

  “Jesus God…” he exclaimed, and backed away.

  Aaron glanced into the bedroom and shook his head. “Looks like the animals have been through this pretty good.”

  “Least the roof’s in one piece.”

  “Think I’ll take my chances in the barn.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  They were happy to find hay baled, dry but still edible. Duke unsaddled his horse and removed the saddlebags, and then did the same with his backup horse while Aaron followed suit.

  Duke eyed the interior of the barn and hefted his gun. “I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep. It’ll be your turn before you know it.”

  “Shame he had to leave all this. You can see it must have been pretty nice before…before they got to it.”

  “Way the world works. No point in moaning over it; Lucas didn’t.” Duke paused. “He did what we’re going to do: move on.”

  “That’s probably healthiest. Nothing left now that the town’s gone.”

  Duke shook his head. “Just some walls.”

  “We headed to Artesia tomorrow?”

  “Might as well.”

  Duke made his way to the gate with his rifle and night vision monocle and set out three magazines by his side. He glanced at the time as twilight darkened the ranch and calculated five hours for his watch. That would put Aaron on deck at midnight, which was fine – five hours of sleep apiece would be adequate, if not ample.

  Duke had survived on far less.

  Motion caught his attention at the far side of the gate, and he raised the monocle. A big rabbit, skinny with youth, bounced into a nearby clump of bushes. Duke smiled to himself and shook his head at the tasty bounty only a few yards away – an easy shot if he’d had his crossbow, which he hadn’t thought to bring. He picked up a rock and tossed it at the animal. “It’s your lucky day, little guy. Enjoy it while it lasts,” he whispered, feeling an odd sense of kinship with the rabbit, which was also doing its best to get by in a hostile world.

  Chapter 7

  Cano returned from using the radio and sat with Luis and the two Crew gunmen, who were visibly anxious as they waited for Tucker’s man to show. It was nearly two when the gangly young man arrived in a rush, horse in tow.

  “You got the guns?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry about that. We have them,” Cano answered.

  “Let’s see ’em.”

  Cano rose and moved to his saddlebags. He withdrew two AKMs with folding stocks and held them out so the man could see them.

  The young man nodded. “Name’s Carlton.”

  “Let’s ride. Wasted half the day in this dump,” Cano said, swinging up into the saddle.

  “Got to be back in an hour,” Carlton said.

  “You will be.”

  The group rode out of town and made for the truck stop, the sun blazing overhead through the muggy humidity. When they reached the parking lot, they dismounted, and Cano escorted Carlton into the interior, where the flies had multiplied a thousandfold in their absence, joined by rats and a plethora of insects in the consumption of the men’s corpses.

  Vermin scuttled away as they approached, and Carlton drew in a sharp breath at the overwhelming smell of putrefaction. The heat had done the bodies no favors, and the young man swallowed hard several times and barely made it three steps away before heaving up his breakfast.

  Cano watched impassively as Carlton retched, and then moved to the corpses and leaned down to brush away a skin of maggots that had formed on their faces. He glanced up at the young man.

  “You know them?” Cano growled.

  Carlton peered at the corpses in the gloom and shook his head. “Never seen ’em before.”

  “You sure? Take a closer look.”

  Carlton wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “That’s okay.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  Luis touched Carlton’s arm and guided him nearer. “Breathe through your mouth,” Luis advised, and Carlton nodded weakly.

  Carlton regarded the first dead man for several beats and shook his head. “Nope.” When he moved to the second, his eyes widened for a split second.

  “What is it?” Cano demanded.

  “I…I got to get outta here.”

  “Not before you tell me what I want to know.”

  “I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Then be sick,” Cano said.

  Carlton staggered away and bent over, supporting himself with hands on his knees as he dry heaved. The spell lasted fifteen seconds, and when he straightened, his tanned complexion was gray. “I recognize the second one.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Seen him a couple times at the trading post. Apache. From up north.”

  “And?”

  “They got
a reservation or something up there. Own the whole territory. Bad news.”

  “Bad how?”

  “You want to pass through, you got to pay a toll and use one of them. Frank – that’s the guy there – was a guide. Used to bring ammo and weapons to swap at the trading post.”

  Cano digested the news. “How do you get in touch with them to arrange a guide?”

  “They monitor the radio, I think. Never had to do it myself. Tucker may know.”

  Outside, the men gulped the warm air, but the stench of death lingered in their noses no matter how many breaths they took. Cano retrieved the AKMs and handed them to Carlton, who inspected them with practiced hands and nodded as he slid them into his saddlebags.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

  “You said maybe Tucker knew how to get in touch with the Apaches?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long you been working for him?” Cano asked.

  “Three years, off and on.”

  “How much he pay you?”

  Carlton looked away. “I get by. A slice of what we bring in.”

  “Big slice or little?” Cano pressed.

  “I’m not rich or nuthin’.”

  “How’d you like to make some real money?”

  “Doin’ what?”

  “Helping us.”

  Carlton held Cano’s stare. “Helping? How?”

  “You know these Apaches?”

  Carlton shrugged. “Some of them, I guess.”

  “You ever been to Albuquerque?”

  “Not since before…you know.”

  “We’re headed that way. We’re gonna need some solid hands.”

  “Already got a job.”

  “Not much of one, judging by your clothes and horse, kid.” Cano mentioned a quantity of gold.

  “You’re bullshitting,” Carlton blurted.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “You got it on you?”

  “Got some. But I’m going to radio for more. I’m with the Crew. You know who we are?”

  “I’ve heard of you.”

  “Then you know we have a lot of resources. I’m good for it.”

  “I…Tucker needs me.”

  “How long you have to work for him to see that kind of take? A year? Two? You can make that in a few weeks with us.”

  “I suppose I could tell him I gotta take a breather.”

  They mounted up and rode back into town. Cano and Luis accompanied Carlton into the trading post and waited until Tucker was finished with a customer to ask about communicating with the Apaches. When he was free, Luis took the lead, his bedside manner better than Cano’s.

  “Carlton was telling us that you may know how to contact the Apaches.”

  “You headed to Albuquerque?” Tucker asked.

  “Looks that way.”

  “You have to put out a call on channel 19. They monitor it. But it ain’t cheap.”

  “How much?”

  “Depends on how many are going.”

  “Figure…five.”

  The trader named a figure in ammo. Luis frowned. “You serious?”

  “They got a monopoly. Charge whatever they like.”

  Luis went back to Cano while Carlton had his talk with the boss. Luis told him what he’d learned, and Cano’s scowl deepened.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Cano said. “It’ll take four days, at least, for anyone to get here from Pecos. By then the trail will be cold.”

  “There is no trail. The rain.”

  Cano ignored him. “But we can assume they’re headed north, based on the general direction they’ve been traveling. I’m willing to bet they’re on their way to Albuquerque. If I’m right, I need to contact Magnus. He’s got enough contacts to find someone there we can hook up with.” Cano paused, thinking. “We’ll need a few mercenaries. See who you can round up. Offer them the same pay as the kid. But get hard cases. I want killers, not a bunch of pussies, understand?”

  “How will we pay them?”

  “I’ve got enough gold to give them half now and half in Albuquerque. I’ll let Magnus work out the rest.”

  Luis stepped out onto the sidewalk to wait for Carlton. The sheriff was speaking with the pair of Crew gunmen, whose expressions were unreadable. When the lawman saw Luis, he disengaged and wandered over.

  “Thought I made it clear you boys should move along,” he said.

  “Yeah. We got that. You said by sunset, didn’t you?”

  “Not much time left.”

  “You see us after dark, then you maybe got a problem. Until then, chill. We’re just hanging out.”

  The sheriff took a step toward Luis, hand on his gun. “Did you just tell me to ‘chill’?”

  “That’s right. We aren’t doing anything but waiting for our boss and trading with Tucker. There a law against that?”

  The sheriff’s eyes were slits. “I see you in the town limits one minute after dusk, you’re going to be chilling in a ditch. Capiche, homeboy?”

  Luis mad dogged the man, but the sheriff didn’t flinch, his cobalt blue eyes hard as tungsten. Luis eventually looked away, reasoning that an escalation wasn’t worth it. The sheriff must have sensed his near miss, because he walked away without comment, leaving the Loco on the sidewalk, waiting for Carlton.

  The young man emerged a minute later. Luis stepped into the street. “Need to hire a couple more men. You know anybody?”

  “Might. What do you want?”

  “Hardest mofos you know. Stone killers. Good with a gun and a knife; seen combat.”

  “I know where to look.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Bar near the town center. Rowdies is the name.” Carlton nodded. “If anyone’s interested, we’ll find them there.”

  “Rowdies, huh?” Luis turned to the Crew gunmen. “Tell Cano I’ll be back in a while. Let him know about the sheriff so we don’t get caught in town.”

  Chapter 8

  Lucas glanced up at the clouds overhead, a trailing remnant of the storm that had snuck up on them as they’d ridden east, and felt the first fine droplets of moisture land on his skin, the air charged with the electricity that presaged a cloudburst. The desert was still except for the hushed conversation of Ruby and Sierra. Colt was tending to the horses as Eve stood by. He wiped away the rain and stood.

  “I’m going to look up ahead and see if there’s any other trails we can take. This one’s brutal,” he said to Colt.

  “Knock yourself out. You find something better, I’m fine with that as long as it leads northwest.”

  Lucas debated riding Tango but decided to let the stallion rest. He’d more than earned it, and Lucas could use the opportunity to stretch his legs. He shouldered his M4 sling and set off on a divergent path from the main trail, paying close attention to the terrain and any clues it could offer. After ten minutes of reconnaissance, he found a game trail that was every bit as bad as the one they were on, and was eyeing it skeptically when he heard a scream.

  Colt.

  Lucas broke into a run and sprinted back to the camp. Ruby was yelling instructions to Sierra, who was doing her best to calm Nugget. When Lucas arrived, Colt was lying on the ground in a ball, clutching his leg.

  “What happened?” Lucas demanded.

  “Rattler,” Colt managed through clenched teeth. “Got me in the calf.”

  “What? How?”

  “He was going to use the bathroom,” Ruby said, pointing at a stand of bushes.

  Lucas moved to Colt, pulling his belt free as he approached. He wrapped it around the bartender’s knee and pulled it tight, and then handed Colt the end. “Keep pressure on that so the venom doesn’t get a chance to circulate.”

  Sierra leaned into Lucas, her face white. “What are you going to do?”

  “We don’t have any antivenom. Let’s get a peek at how bad it is.”

  Lucas unsheathed his Bowie knife and made short work of Colt’s jean leg. He sliced up the seam to the knee with
the razor-sharp blade and inspected the bite already discoloring around the two bright red punctures from the fangs.

  “Looks like he got you pretty good. How big a snake?”

  “Maybe three feet.”

  “That’s a little bit of luck. It’s the tiny ones that are the worst.”

  “Are you going to suck the venom out?” Ruby asked.

  Lucas shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t do any good and increases the infection risk. Same with cutting the punctures.”

  “Then how do you treat it?”

  “Afraid there isn’t much we can do.” He fingered the belt. “Even the tourniquet’s a bad idea for more than a few minutes. Don’t want you to lose the leg.”

  “So we just wait for me to die?” Colt asked.

  “Most rattler bites aren’t fatal,” Lucas said.

  “Most?” Colt looked down at the belt. “How about this tourniquet?”

  “Probably best to loosen it up some.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “You can vary the pressure, slow the amount of venom that hits your bloodstream all at once.” Lucas took another look at the bite. The discoloration was beginning to work its way up the veins toward Colt’s knee, and the area from his ankle up was almost twice the normal size. “It’s swelling pretty good.”

  Colt grimaced and strained to see the wound. He regarded it without speaking for a moment and then nodded. “How long till I can ride?”

  “Probably want to wait an hour or so, give your body a chance to process the venom.”

  Colt looked up at the sky. “We’re losing the light.”