The Day After Never - Insurrection (Book 5) Page 6

  His M4 chattered once, and the nearest shooter collapsed with a scream of anguish. The other two looked toward Lucas in surprise, and he cut them down without mercy before they could bring their weapons to bear. He paused, scanning the woods with the rifle, but saw no further threats. After several moments the shooting from Red and Joel stopped, and an uneasy silence settled over the forest.

  Lucas waited another minute and, when no other targets presented themselves, called out, “I think that’s it. Hold your fire.”

  Joel’s voice answered with a note of panic. “Red’s hit.”

  Lucas made his way to where the pair had held off their attackers and knelt by Red, whose chest was a mess of crimson where the front plate of his flak vest had shattered, allowing a round through. Blood welled from the entry wound with each pulse of his heart, and Lucas knew in an instant that he wouldn’t make it. Red had intuited it as well and closed his eyes in resignation, pain twisting his features as he fought for breath.

  “This…is…the end…of the road,” he managed, and Lucas placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “Doesn’t look good.”

  Joel approached, shaken, and Lucas pushed the barrel of his rifle away so it wasn’t pointing at him.

  “It’s over,” Lucas said. “Got them all.”

  “Is he…” Joel began, and stopped as he took in the extent of Red’s injury.

  “Nothing we can do for him now,” Lucas said. “Keep him as comfortable as possible. I’ll go find Ruby.”

  Joel set his rifle down and knelt next to Red. Lucas rose and made for the road, rifle at the ready in case he’d missed any of the ambush party. When he reached the pavement, he called out Ruby’s name, and she answered from the trees across from him. He followed her voice to where she was propped up, back against a tree, her rifle resting in her lap. Lucas moved to her and checked the wound with a frown and then eyed her blanched complexion.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  “Looks like it missed your lung and exited out the side, so all we have to do is stop the bleeding.”

  “All?”

  “Pressure bandage and some super glue should work.” Lucas had scrounged three tubes of the precious adhesive from one of the convenience stores in Pagosa Springs and packed two in the first aid kit. Even though the additive that differentiated the commercial version from the surgical version would burn when he applied it, it was still better than nothing and far more practical than stitches, under the circumstances. “Can you walk?”

  She assented. “Hurts though.”

  “It’ll do that. You were lucky. Axel and Red weren’t.”

  Her face fell. “Oh, Lucas…”

  “Nothing to be done about it. Where are your mule and horse?”

  “They ran off into the woods. But they won’t go far.”

  Lucas found the animals in a few minutes and led them back to where Ruby was now standing, shrugging off her plate carrier, her face pained. Lucas eased her out of it and secured it to Jax, and then helped her across the road, leading the animals to where Joel was waiting.

  “He’s dead,” Joel said, indicating Red’s inert form.

  “Got to patch Ruby up. Get me the first aid kit, would you? It’s in my right saddlebag,” Lucas said.

  Joel made his way to Tango and returned with the kit. Lucas used some home-distilled high-octane alcohol in a plastic bottle to sterilize the wound as Ruby gritted her teeth from the sting. After inspecting the entry hole, he punctured one of the glue tubes and squeezed a few droplets into it. He pinched it closed as Ruby drew in a sharp breath, and after fifteen seconds, did the same for the exit wound beneath her arm, which was messier, the flesh torn rather than neatly punched through.

  “Left enough open so it can drain,” he said when he was done. “How does it feel?”

  “Like someone branded me with a hot iron,” Ruby said, her voice weak. “The vest didn’t do much good, did it?”

  He straightened and walked to where Jax was waiting, and held the flak jacket up. “Stopped a round that would have killed you, so not all that bad,” he said. “We’ll replace the plate with one of Red’s.” He looked her over. “You going to be able to ride?”

  She managed a pained wince and nodded. “I’m a tough old bird, Lucas. Takes more than a little scratch to keep me off my horse.”

  Lucas smiled, but the expression never reached his eyes, the worry in them clear. Though Ruby was a trooper, the risk of infection from her wound would be a serious problem, and without better care than they could manage in the field, she might not make it.

  Ten minutes later they were mounted up, Lucas having made the difficult decision that they couldn’t afford the time to bury Axel and Red. Joel and Lucas had collected the dead men’s weapons and ammunition and loaded the horses with the spares, and then strung the scavengers’ animals together, the easier to lead them. After a final inspection of Ruby’s wounds, Lucas saddled up and directed them toward the road, his mind churning over Ruby’s survival odds and the likelihood that their gun battle had attracted other predators they’d need to contend with – both of which he could do precious little about other than to forge on toward Astoria and hope for the best.

  Hope being a poor strategy for survival, he more than well knew.

  Chapter 10

  Two rough days of slow travel later, Lucas, Ruby, and Joel stood beneath a cinereal sky on a rise overlooking Astoria. The water of Young’s Bay was lake calm, a silver expanse stretching to the far shore, punctuated by a single ribbon of highway bridge, whose onetime green iron trellises were now a patchwork of rust. Joel pointed to a barricade wall that had been built along the perimeter of the town and the dense accumulation of tents stretching along both coasts.

  “Looks like they ran out of room,” he said.

  “Maybe,” Lucas responded, eyeing Ruby. “How you holding up?”

  Ruby’s fever had gradually built over the last twenty-four hours and was now to the point where it had become critical. Her wound was suppurating through the bandage Lucas changed every eight hours, her skin was hot to the touch, and the exit welt was angry and red; her system was losing the battle against infection.

  “Been better, Lucas,” she said softly. Ruby was no fool and knew that without antibiotics her chances were slim. Their hope was that Astoria had some. If not, they would be burying her before long – which neither of them needed to say.

  “What do you make of all the tents?” Joel asked.

  “Seems like they have a refugee problem,” Lucas said with a shrug.

  He led the way along a dirt road toward a onetime sports field now badly overgrown, where what looked like an outdoor market was winding down in the gloaming. Emaciated faces greeted them as they rode toward the gathering, the vendors and customers alike half-starved and wearing filthy rags. A few young children sat by their parents’ feet instead of running and playing, their energy sapped by a relentless upbringing of starvation conditions and harsh cold.

  “This is where we’re bringing the vaccine to for distribution? You sure we’re in the right place?” Joel asked.

  “Looks like these might be squatters,” Ruby guessed. “They look worse than I feel.”

  “Probably right,” Lucas said, his grip tightening on his M4 as they neared the squalid collection of tables.

  A young man materialized out of the crowd when they approached and beamed at them with the enthusiasm of a veteran salesman. He eyed Lucas’s rifle and pistol and his face lit up.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed. “Is that a Kimber?”

  Lucas nodded. “Know your guns, do you?”

  “You want to trade?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’ve got some pretty amazing stuff. Impossible to get from anyone else.”

  “Like what?” Joel asked.

  “Right now, everything from a Desert Eagle to a few Glocks. Name your pleasure.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not in the market. Thanks.” He paused.
“Although I do have a few AKs for sale.”

  “Yeah? What kind of shape?”

  “Decent.”

  The youth smiled again, and Lucas guessed he was no more than eighteen or nineteen.

  “My name’s Ray,” the young man said. “Pleased to meet you. As to the AKs, there are a lot of those floating around, so not all that valuable an item. How many magazines with them?”

  “Three or four. Full.” Lucas took Ray’s measure, noting his boots were in better shape than the rest of the crowd’s. “You have any antibiotics?”

  Ray frowned at the question. “I wish. Only guy with those was the doc, but his stores have gone missing since he bought it.”

  Lucas’s expression betrayed nothing. “Doc? Bought it?”

  “Yeah. The town doctor. He died maybe a couple weeks ago.”

  “Is there another one?” Lucas asked.

  “No.”

  “And his meds disappeared?”

  Ray looked away and then returned his gaze to Lucas. “It happens. But if you’re going to be around for a while, I can put out the word…”

  “We might be, but we’re in kind of a rush for the drugs.”

  “Might be able to lay a hand on them. But it would be expensive.”

  “Most things are these days,” Lucas allowed.

  “Where you going to be staying?” Ray asked.

  “In town.”

  This time, Ray’s smile wasn’t one of humor. “Good luck with that.”

  “Why?”

  “Got over a thousand in the tent city now. Town’s not letting anybody new in,” he said with a shrug.

  “Why not?”

  “They have their own little paradise in there, I guess. All I know is you try to sneak in, you’re risking a bullet. Life’s too short.”

  Lucas looked at the people around him, most of whom were staring at them curiously. “Where’s everybody from?”

  “Big cities. Portland, Seattle, a few from down south.”

  “Why here?”

  “No gangs. Plenty of fish in the river, blackberries grow wild, lots of drinkable water, although it’s best to boil it.” Ray paused. “Besides, where else is there to go? Most places are just more of the same – dangerous, violent, shortages of everything.”

  “These people are all squatting?” Joel asked.

  “That’s not how they see it. They’re starting their own town. Just been kinda slow to make it permanent.” Ray regarded Ruby. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She needs antibiotics,” Lucas fired back. “Got hurt on the road.”

  “That’ll happen. Where you coming from?”

  Lucas ignored the question. “How do we find you if you can locate some drugs?”

  “I’ll find you. I kind of know everyone.” He eyed Lucas’s Kimber again. “I’m a trader here. One day I’ll have my own setup, with guards and everything.”

  “I’m surprised business is decent if everyone’s so desperate.”

  “Folks aren’t price sensitive when they really need something. They’ll find a way. It’s an okay living.”

  Lucas considered the young man’s boots and his relatively intact jacket. “Seems like it might be. How do we get into town?”

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  “Maybe, but it’s mine to waste.”

  Ray pointed to the far side of the playing field. “Straight down that road, to the river. They have the other fork blocked off. Make a right at the water and you’re a mile from one of the two entrances. There’s a bunch of guards with guns, though, and they don’t mess around. Might want to reconsider.”

  “Appreciate it, Ray. Hope you find some antibiotics. Got some AKs with your name on ’em if you do.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Joel looked to Ruby and then back to Ray. “You mentioned the doc died? From what?”

  Ray’s face darkened, and he suddenly found the ground by his feet fascinating. When he met Joel’s stare, for the first time in the encounter he sounded uncertain.

  “Word is he was poisoned.”

  Chapter 11

  Lucas led the procession down the road toward the river. Tents littered the shore as far as he could see, spanning all the way from the foothills to the water. He frowned in distaste when a breeze carried the stench of raw sewage, and Joel’s nose wrinkled.

  “God, that’s foul,” Joel said.

  “Doesn’t seem like the central planners gave much thought to having a thousand uninvited guests show up for Thanksgiving dinner,” Lucas observed.

  “The kid said there were more showing up every day?”

  “You can see why the town closed its borders. This is an accident waiting to happen.”

  “What do you make of the doc being poisoned?” Ruby asked, her voice tremulous.

  “Don’t know what to think. Why would anyone poison the only doctor?”

  “Maybe because they wanted his stash?” Joel guessed.

  Lucas shook his head. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Let’s hope they have a decent medicine man, or that the kid can get some antibiotics,” Joel said, throwing Ruby a glance.

  “I’m sure in a group this big, somebody’s qualified. I patched the wound pretty well, and it looks like it’s starting to heal – it’s the infection that’s the problem.”

  They rode in silence, the horses at the end of their ropes after so many long days on the trail. At the shore they were met by a host of curious stares, and Lucas didn’t have to wonder about how bad the living conditions were – even by post-collapse standards, the situation was dire. The few children in evidence showed classic signs of malnutrition, ribs jutting through skin stretched tight as parchment and their bellies distended.

  “You think the water’s radioactive this far from the plant?” Joel asked.

  “No way of knowing,” Lucas said.

  He slowed as the road narrowed, clogged by lean-tos and flimsy structures built from cast-off lumber, plastic sheets, anything that could provide shelter from the elements. Gaunt faces with saucer-sized eyes watched their passage from inside the dwellings, and a few men began walking along behind them, several carrying old rifles, others with ancient revolvers stuck in their belts. Joel twisted to keep an eye on them and then called to Lucas in an urgent whisper.

  “This doesn’t look good.”

  “Let’s pick up the pace some. Maybe they’ll lose interest if it’s hard to keep up.”

  Lucas spurred Tango forward and the stallion broke into a two-beat jog, slower than usual but still fast enough to leave the walking men in the dust. Ruby and Joel matched his pace, but their sprint was short-lived as the road ended in another sprawl of tents covering every available inch of asphalt.

  Lucas slowed and guided Tango along a track that paralleled the water, and the others followed suit, the going tight on the narrow trail. More of the tent people took up after them, and Joel called out again.

  “What do we do now? Can’t outrun them.”

  “Keep your weapon ready, but don’t fire unless someone takes a shot at you.”

  “Going to be hard to shoot our way past a thousand people.”

  Lucas eyed the throng, most empty-handed but some with machetes or guns. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He turned to Ruby. “Might want to get your rifle free.”

  “Oh, Lucas, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can,” she said so faintly he could barely hear her. He slowed further as he realized that he’d missed an important turn for the worse in her demeanor, and he edged Tango closer to her mount. “I can barely hold the reins,” she explained.

  “That’s okay. Never mind. I forgot,” he said, his voice low.

  “Lucas,” Joel said, and Lucas returned his attention to the path ahead, which was now blocked completely by a group of ominous-looking men.

  Lucas reined in Tango, who slowed to a stop facing the crowd. Lucas, M4 in one hand, nodded at the men.

  “Howdy. Mind if we get by here?” he
said, his tone pleasant and expression neutral. “Got a sick woman we need to get some help.”

  One of the men stepped forward. Unlike most of the others, he was a bruiser of a specimen, easily six foot four and well fed, considering the rest. He held Lucas’s stare, returning it with a glare of his own, and tilted his head at the horses strung in a line behind Joel and Ruby.

  “Lot of people here are starving. You got plenty of extra horses there,” the man said.

  “What’s wrong with the fish?” Lucas asked, his voice reasonable.

  “Something went bad with them a week back. They just dried up all of a sudden.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but we can’t spare a horse,” Lucas said. “Must be some rabbits or deer around.”

  “Not everybody has something to hunt with.”

  Lucas flipped the safety of his M4 off, and Joel, taking a cue from him, did the same. “That’s a shame, but we all have our burdens, friend. Now, we’ve come a long way to make it to Astoria, and like I said, the lady’s doing poorly. Not going to ask you to step aside again.”

  “Doing poorly? Kids are starving to death. Babies. Don’t tell me about doing poorly,” the big man said, taking a step closer to Lucas, his hand on a semiautomatic pistol in a belt holster.

  “One horse isn’t going to solve your problem, boss. Look, I don’t want to have to get into it with you all, but get any closer or make any moves, and you and sixty of your friends are going to get your heads blown off for nothing. This rifle has a full magazine, and there are plenty more where that came from. You want today to be the day you meet your maker?” Lucas shifted his stare from the big man to slowly scan the men around him. “All of you? Who’s going to take care of your babies when you’re bleeding into the river?”

  The tall thug scowled, the expression ugly as anything Lucas had seen. As he began speaking, he was interrupted by a cry from behind him. Lucas looked to where the voice had called out, and spotted a half dozen camo-clad gunmen on horseback riding toward them, assault rifles in hand. The bruiser turned to see what had happened, and seemed to deflate at the sight of the new arrivals. The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had formed, the men moving quickly away, gazes averted, as the riders approached with a clatter of hooves.