The Day After Never - Perdition (Book 6) Read online

  Jeb swung into the saddle and coaxed his horse forward, the weight of the cart minimal with the poles strapped to its back, and gave a final look over his shoulder at the roof of the hospital in the distance. Then he freed his assault rifle from the saddle scabbard, barrel pointed at the cloudy afternoon sky, and let his eyes roam over the throng before him, whose sea of faces radiated fear, hopelessness, and hate. Inside the walls, plumes of smoke began rising into the air, the mayor’s last-minute plan to scorch the earth upon their departure a distraction that would hopefully keep the Chinese occupied while the townspeople made their escape.

  Chapter 6

  Colonel Hong, wearing the field uniform of the Army of the People’s Republic of China, stood at the bow of a steel-gray tender as it navigated through the turbulent seas at the mouth of the bay, where the muddy water of the river met the waves of the Pacific Ocean. The boat rocked as it cut through the chop at an angle, slowing as it rode over the crests. Hong gripped the metal railing of the craft with white knuckles, anxious to be on dry land after almost three weeks at sea.

  The ship had encountered several ugly squalls on the way from the Chinese mainland, which slowed its progress as it battered its way through fifty-foot swells. His contingent of seven hundred men had been green by the time the storms passed, the lurching of the directionless rollers impossible to predict and tossing the eight-hundred-foot vessel around like a cork. The current chop was nothing compared to that ordeal, and the faces of the first fifty of the men of the invasion force were stony behind him.

  Three more landing craft followed them in, the first wave of two hundred men the Astoria occupation force. The rest of the troops were bound for Portland, where five hundred would secure the city and bring order to the madness that was all that remained of Oregon. Hong’s orders were to lock down the bay town to secure his force’s ability to control access to the sea and march east at the first opportunity. It would be a delight to stretch his legs after the long confinement aboard the ship, and he was sure his men felt the same.

  Another, similar vessel was on its way to Seattle, scheduled to arrive the following day. The advance infiltration group had been deployed in sailboats months earlier and had reported that they had assimilated into the populations of Seattle, Portland, and Astoria, with the natives none the wiser about what was to come. Hong didn’t know all the details of the arrangement that had been made with the American leadership, but he viewed the new landscape as an opportunity to prosper after harsh years in post-collapse China, where the environmental pollution and other disasters had wreaked havoc on the population, reducing it to a tenth of its former size and leaving much of the nation uninhabitable.

  As the field commander of the Oregon invasion, he was honored to have been entrusted with a monumental task, and was prepared for the worst from the criminal warlords who held Portland. China had been fortunate that its large active military had retained at least some control over the nation as the virus swept across it, and they’d prevented any insurgency from disruptive elements that might have used the disaster as an opportunity to assume power. Some had tried, of course, but they had proved no match for the army, which had quelled the uprisings mercilessly, making examples of the leaders by leaving their bodies hanging from lampposts, rotting in the sun.

  Hong had been part of the purges, but those dark days were long past. Now, in a new world filled with abundant natural resources, he faced a new challenge against unknown adversaries. He expected the locals might resist the occupation at first, but the Chinese leadership’s hope was that the natives would find life under their orderly rule preferable to being victimized by hoodlums. If not, he’d been ordered to put down any rebellion with the same harsh tactics that had proved so effective in his homeland, and Hong had no qualms about doing so, his mission larger than any residual compassion that had survived the last six years. The American leadership had invited the Chinese in, so it wasn’t as though Hong were leading a hostile force – it was more a police action under martial law than anything, much like the “peacekeeping” missions the Americans had been famous for in the Middle East.

  The revs of the tender’s engine quieted, and the boat slowed as it neared the piers by the marina. He’d studied the maps until he knew the area like the lines of his own hand, and he was confident that his men would encounter little resistance from the townspeople, their arsenal sabotaged earlier by the advance team, as planned.

  The boat neared the concrete pilings, and a sailor brushed past Hong with a mumbled apology, bow line in hand, ready to secure the craft so his men could scale the iron rungs that rose from the water to the pier above. The boat reversed just before it collided with the piling, and the seaman lashed the line around a pipe as the stern swung lazily in the incoming tide.

  Hong gave a hand signal, and the men made their way off the boat and up the rungs, rifles strapped to their backs. The city was silent. After the last of the fighters cleared the deck, Hong followed, his wiry frame well suited to the climb. At the top of the ladder he stood in front of his men, staring at the intensifying smoke rising from at least twenty buildings.

  A boom of thunder shattered the silence and the heavens released a torrent of rain. Hong blinked the water away and surveyed the area, deserted as he had expected it to be, the townspeople unaware of the Chinese force’s arrival. Another landing craft bumped against the pier beneath their feet, and Hong motioned with two fingers to a gray warehouse by the waterfront. Half the group ran at double speed to secure the building while he waited for the rest of his troops to land. The mechanical pilot’s watch on his wrist reassured him that he was ahead of schedule, and his commanding demeanor was unperturbed by the cold rain running down his face.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mary shook her head at the sight of Ben trying to fix one of the carts at the curb in front of the hospital, the right forward wheel skewed at an alarming angle. Her nose twitched at the smell of wood smoke on the breeze and the salty tang of brine that always preceded a storm from the sea. Rosemary waited with Ruby at the hospital entrance, with the wounded to be evacuated behind them on stretchers, watching Ben and one of his men fumbling with tools in an attempt to repair the axle.

  The head of the garbage detail, Ben was a nice enough fellow who was good with his hands, but he was, as Jeb had remarked on more than one occasion, one brick shy of a full load. That assessment seemed even more accurate now, when at the worst possible moment, when they needed him the most, his equipment failed, leaving them stranded while they waited for a miracle. They had loaded the first cart half an hour earlier and sent it on to the southern gate, but the second one had collapsed as it rolled over the curb and ground to a halt.

  “How much longer?” Ruby asked, her voice strained.

  “Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. It lost a cotter pin that held the bearing seal in place. Just got to repack it and we’ll be good as gold,” Ben said.

  “It would have been a good idea to check that earlier, don’t you think?” Mary admonished.

  “I didn’t know we would need to use these on such short notice. I thought we had the whole week before we were leaving,” Ben fired back impatiently. “We’ll get ’er done. Hold your horses.”

  “They’re burning the town,” Rosemary whispered.

  Mary pursed her lips. “Makes sense. There’s nothing here for us anymore.”

  “Still…”

  “It’s just a bunch of wood and drywall, honey,” Mary said. “Home is where we decide it is, not in some shack. We’ll find something nice in Newport, I’m sure. Your father’s handy, and we have the summer to build if we have to.”

  Rosemary looked uncertain, but she voiced no protest and went back to her ministrations, together with Sylvia, helping to soothe the nerves of the hurt men, most of whom were fading in and out of consciousness. They had little choice but to wait for Ben to finish his task, as the cart was their only means of transporting the last of the wounded.

  Sounds of gunf
ire echoed from the direction of the river, and Rosemary looked to Ruby in alarm. Ruby’s eyebrows rose as the shooting continued, and they all turned toward the hills where it sounded like a pitched gun battle was in progress.

  Mary whispered to Ruby, “Didn’t you say that Lucas had gone into the hills for weapons?”

  Ruby nodded. “That’s right. Trouble follows that man around like a shadow.”

  “Sounds bad.”

  “No other kind of gunfight I can think of.”

  Eventually the shooting stopped, and silence descended again. The wind picked up as the storm approached, whistling through the abandoned homes surrounding the hospital. Ruby walked back toward the wounded, worry lines etched deep in her face.

  A curse from one of Ben’s men demanded her attention, and her frown deepened at the sight of what had caused the exclamation. The first heavy drops of rain splattered on the pavement by the cart. The women exchanged worried glances, resigned to the afternoon worsening with each passing hour.

  “Great,” Rosemary said. Mary tried to smile, but the expression was forced. “We’re going to get soaked,” Rosemary complained.

  “A little water won’t hurt you. We’re used to it,” Mary said. “Fetch the tarps to cover the men. We’ll make it, no problem.”

  Her daughter considered the worsening downpour with a sour expression but did as her mother requested, retreating into the building for the two blue plastic tarps they had planned to use as cover in whatever makeshift hospital they contrived at the end of each day’s travel.

  Chapter 7

  Ben’s few minutes wound up being another half hour, and the downpour had intensified into gray sheets by the time he announced that the cart was ready. Rain streamed from his beard and his clothing was soaked through. He and his helper manhandled the stretchers to the cart, which they had backed under the overhang in an attempt to keep the wounded as dry as possible. Ruby stood by the cart’s draw horse, stroking the mare’s wet flank with a thoughtful expression.

  “Careful!” Rosemary cautioned when Ben slipped on the slick flooring and nearly dropped the end of the stretcher he was carrying.

  “Doing the best we can here, missy. Hold your water,” he grumbled in reply. “Nothing stopping you from lending a hand. It would go quicker if you did.”

  “They’re too heavy,” Mary protested. “Most of them weigh at least a hundred and fifty pounds, if not more.”

  “Then stay out of the way,” Ben finished, and hoisted the stretcher onto the cart with a grunt.

  Rosemary and her mother exchanged a sour look, and Mary gave a slight shake of her head, the meaning obvious. “Tempers are flaring,” she whispered. “Best to stay quiet.”

  “But he almost dropped him,” Rosemary said, her voice low.

  “Everyone’s doing their best. Ease off,” Mary warned.

  “Fine.” Rosemary paused. “Dad must be worried about us. It’s been…what, at least an hour, hasn’t it?”

  “It couldn’t be helped. You were right – these men deserve better than to be abandoned.”

  Rosemary’s cheeks colored and she smiled, for a moment looking far younger than her seventeen years. “I really appreciate you staying, Mom.”

  Ruby moved to where they stood, frowning at her watch. “This is taking forever.”

  “I know,” Mary agreed.

  A thunderclap nearly overhead shook the ground, and their ears popped from the sudden pressure change. The sky darkened further as a particularly dense thunderhead blotted out the light, and the rain intensified to the point that they could barely make out the street only a dozen yards from the overhang. Ben cursed, his oath colorful for a man of so few words, and shook his head, spraying water like a wet dog. Mary gave him a disapproving glare, although she’d heard worse when Jeb had missed a nail with a hammer and hit his thumb instead.

  “It’s going to be treacherous in this,” Ruby observed. “We won’t be able to make very good time pulling a cart.”

  “The road’s in passable condition, so it won’t be as terrible as you might think,” Sylvia said.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Me too.”

  Ben and his helper loaded the last of the wounded onto the cart, and Rosemary handed them the tarp to cover the men. They fastened it to the frame with nylon line, leaving the rear of the cart open for ventilation. When they had secured the covering into place, Ruby glanced at her watch a final time and spoke to Ben.

  “We can wait until there’s a lull in the rain to make a run for it. I need to go to the stable to get my horse,” she said.

  “You can ride with us on the cart if you want. Larry here can walk,” he said, smirking at his helper.

  “That’s very generous of you, but there’s no way I’m leaving my horse and mule. They’re like family.”

  Ben shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  A few minutes went by with everyone staring into the sheets of rain, and then the torrents of water eased and the force abated. Ruby squinted at the street and gasped. She grabbed Mary’s arm and pulled close to her.

  “You see that? Across the street,” she hissed.

  “What is it?”

  “Looks like soldiers.”

  “Oh no…”

  Ruby turned to Sylvia. “Is there a back door to this place?”

  “Yes. Down the corridor,” Sylvia said, her voice uncertain.

  “Let’s go. Now,” Ruby said, and was preparing to call to Ben to warn him when a shot rang out. The women watched in horror as Ben jerked spasmodically and dropped from the cart, blood drenching the back of his jacket. Larry raised his AR-15 and nearly had it to his shoulder when a burst of lead stitched him across the chest, killing him instantly. Ruby spun and made for the depths of the hospital, not waiting for the other women to move. Their footsteps behind her told her that they’d snapped out of their trance, and she slowed once she was so far down the hall she could barely see. Sylvia arrived, and Ruby whispered to her, “Where’s the door?”

  “This way,” the nurse replied, and brushed past Ruby to lead the way.

  “Oh, God…” Rosemary whispered, her voice tight.

  “Hush,” Mary warned. Rosemary fell silent as they followed Sylvia into the bowels of the building, the only sound the hammering of rain on the roof overhead.

  Moments later they were past the patient rooms and standing before a heavy steel door with an exit sign above. Ruby unslung her rifle and flipped the safety off, and stepped back as Sylvia gripped the bar that ran across the midpoint of the door.

  “What do we do once we’re outside?” Sylvia asked.

  “Run as fast as we can for the gate.”

  Sylvia nodded, her face a mask of fear, and pushed the bar as hard as she could. The door groaned on rusty hinges and opened two feet, the gap barely enough for them to slip through. Sylvia looked back at Ruby and stepped out into the rain, her dirty blond hair instantly turning into a soggy mob as she was pelted by drops the size of marbles. Ruby followed her outside, Rosemary and her mother right behind, the older woman having the presence of mind to push the door shut to mask their escape.

  “Which way?” Ruby asked. Mary pointed to their left.

  “We should be able to make it in ten minutes or so. It’s on the other side of town.”

  “Damn.” Ruby paused, thinking. “Where’s the stable?”

  “You can’t be serious. The Chinese are already here, Ruby.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Which way?”

  “You’ll have to circle back around to where the soldiers came from. It’s not worth it. You won’t make it.”

  A male voice called out from across the road, shouting something in Chinese. They didn’t know what it meant, but could guess from the tone. Mary spun toward the voice and four soldiers appeared from out of the downpour, the evil snouts of their weapons pointed at the women. Ruby gasped at the sight, and Mary raised her hands and whispered to Ruby, “It’s no good. Put the rifle down, Ruby.”

/>   One of the soldiers called out again as he raised his gun, his intent clear. Ruby nodded and slowly stooped to set her rifle on the ground, her heart jackhammering in her chest. She straightened and raised her hands, her wounded shoulder protesting with a lance of pain, and the others did the same.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ray started at the sound of gunfire from in town and leapt to his feet beneath the tree, which had provided at least a modicum of shelter from the storm. The gate yawned open from where a second group had left Astoria no more than forty-five minutes earlier, and Ray scowled at the sight of six men in uniforms moving toward it, rifles in hand. He squinted to better make out their identity, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized the soldiers were Chinese.

  He quickly untied the reins of his horse and led the animal into the storm, away from the town. The arrival of the Chinese portended nothing good. He had no idea if they would have any interest in the squatter camp, but he didn’t plan to find out the hard way. Discretion was the smart move until things solidified.

  A clatter sounded from behind him, and Ray looked back at where the Chinese were closing the barricade, two of the soldiers taking up position where the town guards had been only a few hours before. His aunt and Rosemary hadn’t made it out before the Chinese seized the town, and Ray’s imagination conjured up multiple ugly scenarios, each worse than the last. He picked up his pace as the rain peppered him with renewed fury, his mind racing as he considered how to proceed, the only family he had in the world now trapped behind the wall.