The Day After Never - Purgatory Road (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 2) (10 page)

Their quarry had been at the bunker, Cano knew, and even if it had been days ago, the scent might still be fresh enough to follow. The alternative was having to report to Magnus that he’d failed. Better to exhaust every possibility than that.

Cano felt like a death row prisoner as he listened to the trackers discuss what to do next. They’d failed to detect anything distinctive leading from the bunker, even provided with a blanket from the hospital where the woman had been kept hostage. The dogs had led them in circles, but had stopped at the decimated interior of the concrete shelter’s depths, the trail dead from the explosion. He’d already been down to look over the devastation; the bowels of the shelter had been blasted out of recognition and provided no answers about the fate of the men who’d entered.

“What do you think?” Luis asked the handler in frustration. “Can you tell anything at all?” The man lived outside of Pecos on a heavily fortified farm that did business with the cartel, supplying it with vegetables and other foodstuffs in exchange for protection and stolen goods. His pair of bloodhounds had been used with successful results twice before when a rebel faction of the Locos had splintered off and tried to mount a competitive enterprise. He didn’t look particularly happy at having been summoned at dawn and forced to ride north, dogs trotting beside him, but Luis wasn’t interested in the hayseed’s enthusiasm – just results.

“Well, we know she was here by the way they been acting, but problem is they ain’t got anything more’n that.” The man’s West Texas drawl was thick as tar.

“Try having them nose around downstairs again. Maybe we’re missing something.”

“Worth a shot, I guess. Got nothin’ else to go on.”

Fifteen minutes later, Luis reappeared with the handler, a frown on his face. “We found a door, but we can’t get it open. But it’s probably how they made their way out. Dogs were scratching at it. Behind the pantry.”

“What direction does it face?” Cano demanded.

Luis looked uncertain. “South, I think.”

“Fine. If there’s some kind of an escape tunnel, it would have an exit. We’ll have the men spread out and walk the field. Call out if they spot anything suspicious,” Cano said.

“Like what?”

“Like a door that says ‘This way down.’ How would I know?” Cano snapped.

Luis stalked off and spoke in hushed tones to his men, the Crew gunmen gathered with them, awaiting instructions. Soon they were creeping through the high grass, their few night vision-equipped squad leaders forging through the brush and the handler behind them, waiting.

Several minutes into it, a man called out from the right. “Got something here.”

“What is it?”

“Big rock. Looks out of place.” A pause. “It sounds hollow. I just knocked on it. Fake.”

Cano and Luis hurried over to where a Crew gunman was waiting beside a boulder. The man rapped on it and grinned, revealing gold front teeth. Cano nodded, knelt, and attempted to lift the edge, but couldn’t. “It must be locked in place from the inside. Probably a safety latch to keep anyone from knocking it over.”

Luis’s eyebrows rose. “You think they’re still down there?”

The handler arrived with his dogs, and they began sniffing around the base and then moved south with noses to the ground. Cano looked out over the field. “No. Probably long gone. But we’ll soon know where.”

Two hours later they discovered the root cellar, and the dogs went crazy. Cano and Luis threw the doors open, guns leveled at the interior, but found it empty. Luis scowled as he entered and sniffed the air.

“Someone was here not too long ago. Can you tell?”

Cano followed him in and nodded. “Yes. Not long ago at all.”

A cry from the field brought them back up to ground level. “What?” Luis called out.

“Got a bunch of horse droppings. Some of them pretty fresh.”

Cano and Luis exchanged a dark look.

“How fresh?”

“No more’n a few hours.”

Cano walked over to where the man was pointing and stooped to inspect the dung. When he straightened, an ugly expression twisted his heavily inked features.

“They were here. Maybe watching us,” he growled under his breath.

“Could be wild horses,” the Crew member said.

“No. It was them.” Cano turned and eyed the handler. “Can the dogs follow the scent of this horse?”

“They can follow anything.”

“Then get them to track it and let’s see where it leads.”

“Ain’t gonna be quick in this grass.”

“Just do it,” Cano ordered.

“Sure thing, boss,” the handler said, and brought the dogs forward. Soon the man was trailing the animals. Cano and Luis rode behind him on horseback, the rest of the gunmen following in a ragged column. Every now and then one of the dogs would pause, sniff the air and surrounding grass, and let out a low howl to ensure he had the handler’s attention before pushing forward, tail wagging at his success.

The process was stop and go; the dogs would lose the scent and root around in a confused fashion before continuing with another howl. Cano glowered at the handler at a particularly loud ululation.

“Can’t you keep them quiet? They’re giving away our position,” he snarled.

“Sorry, boss. That’s just what they do. Got to take the good with the bad.”

“Whole county knows we’re out here by now.”

Luis drew even with Cano’s horse. “Won’t matter. If you’re right and this is one of their horses, we’ll catch up to them sooner or later.”

“Oh, I’m right. I can feel it in my bones.”

Luis nodded wordlessly and allowed Cano to take the lead again, uninterested in challenging the Crew boss. It wasn’t Luis’s neck on the chopping block if he was wrong, and it was in his best interest to play along, even though he personally found it unlikely that the woman and her rescuers would have stuck around for days after blowing the bunker sky high. If it had been Luis, he would have already been across the border and riding hard, putting a hundred miles under his belt before stopping for breath. Then again, the woman was wounded, so perhaps her condition had required her party to remain stationary so she could recover.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t his problem. Cano would receive all the credit if they were successful, and take the blame if they weren’t. Luis’s role was to cooperate and do as ordered, keeping his head down until this storm, like so many others, had passed.

Which he would do. He didn’t believe for a second that some unknown party had broken in and killed Paco. He’d known the head of the Locos since they’d been in jail together, and figured that he’d spouted off at the wrong time to Garret – he’d always had a big mouth, and it had probably been his undoing.

A mistake to learn from, Luis reasoned; one he didn’t intend to duplicate with Cano, who made the deceased Garret seem like a huggable teddy bear.

Another howl pulled him back into the moment, and he smiled at the dog’s plaintive song, taking silent satisfaction in Cano’s discomfiture.

Chapter 15

Two hours after leaving the root cellar, Ruby and Sierra negotiated the Black River, which was surprisingly benign in places, the water barely moving and in some cases almost dried up entirely. They took advantage of the shallow conditions to cross back and forth, reasoning that if the dogs couldn’t easily find the scent for a few hundred yards, it might take them many hours to find it again, especially as Jax and Nugget were wading in several feet of water.

The baying of the bloodhounds had receded until they could no longer hear them, and Sierra was visibly more at ease. The moon had risen into the night sky and cast a pallid luminescence across the landscape, rendering everything in shades of gray. The rushing water was nearly black beneath them, making it difficult to gauge depth. They followed the river for several miles before veering off to take a secondary dirt road that was barely negotiable after years of disuse. They zigzagged along until Ruby pointed at a stand of trees near the river and directed Jax toward the water again, her hopes of losing their pursuers now stronger than they had been earlier. On foot, it could take the trackers days to piece together their trail, buying Lucas time to make his way to them.

Once back at the river, they continued along the bank, and when it became obvious the bottom was rising toward the surface, Ruby coaxed Jax further into the wash. The mule wasn’t enthusiastic about the exercise but splashed along resignedly, ears twitching, offering an occasional snort or grunt when it misstepped. She’d slipped the monocle into one of her saddlebags now that the moon was up, conserving its precious battery as long as possible.

“How are you holding up?” Ruby whispered as Sierra urged Nugget alongside her.

“Pretty good. You?”

“I’ll be happy when I can get off Jax. Almost as happy as he’ll be. He’s not used to this much exertion. He’s had a pretty cushy life lately.” Ruby smiled at Eve, who was sitting silently, rocking with the horse’s stride, eyes drooping from fatigue. “How about you, Eve?”

“Okay,” she said in her small voice. “I don’t hear them anymore.”

“That’s good. It means they’re way behind us.”

“Will we get to sleep soon?”

Ruby and Sierra exchanged a glance. “I hope so. But we still have a ways to go. You look tired,” Ruby said.

“I am.” Her forehead creased. “Is Lucas going to be able to find us?”

“That’s the plan.”

“When he does, he’ll know what to do,” Sierra said, her tone confident.

Eve nodded solemnly. “My bottom hurts.”

“It’s a lot of riding,” Ruby agreed. “Mine does too.” She paused. “Sierra, have you told us everything you know about Shangri-La?”

Sierra seemed taken aback. “Of course. I mean, it’s pretty easy, since I don’t know much in the first place. It’s supposed to be safe and have power and is run the way things used to be. Civilized, in other words.”

“And you believe that?”

“A lot of people risked their lives so Eve could make it there. They obviously thought it was important. So I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt.” Sierra sighed. “We’ll see when we get there, won’t we? If it isn’t all that, what have we really lost?”

“Assuming Lucas finds the vest.”

The younger woman nodded, her face unreadable in the darkness.

Nugget’s front hoof slipped off a treacherous submerged stone, and Eve’s eyes widened as she pitched sideways. Sierra struggled to control the mare with the reins, and then the little girl’s balance passed the tipping point and she fell off the horse, hitting the water with a loud splash. Eve cried out in alarm as Sierra fought with Nugget, the horse now panicked as the bottom dropped away unexpectedly and she suddenly found herself in chest-deep water.

“Eve!” Sierra cried.

The child’s head disappeared from view; the current was not as gentle as they’d guessed in this stretch.

Ruby brought Jax up short and leapt from his back, flailing with her arms, trying to locate Eve. Jax stopped in his tracks, unwilling to go on, and she splashed toward Nugget, her footing unsure as the water pulled at her legs with considerable force.

“Do something!” Sierra screamed. “She can’t swim!”

Ruby continued toward the horse, forcing herself to move faster. Eve’s head popped from the surface ten yards downstream and she coughed water before going under again. Ruby gritted her teeth and abandoned trying to walk, instead diving forward as the river deepened and swimming with unsteady strokes.

“Eve!” Ruby managed as the little girl’s face rose out of the river five feet from her, and she groped for her as Eve sputtered, gasping for breath. Ruby’s fingers latched onto the child’s shirt, and she pulled her nearer as she felt for footing. The bottom was suddenly shallower, explaining the rush of current as the river narrowed, creating a funnel effect.

Eve coughed water and Ruby clutched her to her chest, keeping her head above the surface as she struggled toward the bank. And then, just as quickly as things had come unwound, they were both in knee-deep water, Eve clearing her lungs and struggling for air.

Sierra dropped from Nugget and moved toward them, taking ginger steps as Ruby supported Eve. The little girl’s hands were on her knees, her head bowed, hair hanging as she coughed.

“Are you all right?” Sierra asked as she neared.

Eve didn’t say anything. Ruby nodded. “She’ll be okay.”

“I…I don’t know how to swim myself, or I would have gone in after her.”

“Don’t sweat it. I got to her in time.” Ruby eyed her. “Besides, probably not a great idea with your chest wound. It’s healing nicely, but you want to avoid anything that could increase the chances of infection, and a dunking in this river probably isn’t the best idea.”

Eve gasped again and Ruby thumped her on her back. “Does it feel like you have water in your chest?”

Another hacking cough, more frothing spray, and then she took a big gulp of air and shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

“Let me listen,” Sierra said, and leaned over to place her ear against Eve’s back. After a few deep breaths, Sierra straightened. “Doesn’t sound bad.”

Ruby guided Eve to the bank, where she lay shaking, Sierra beside her. The older woman went after their mounts and led Jax and Nugget to them. Eve looked up at her apologetically. “I’m…sorry,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You got all wet.”

Ruby shrugged. “Nature’s way of telling me I needed a bath. No harm done.” Ruby brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “You think you can ride now?”

Eve nodded.

“Okay, then. I’ll help you back up once your aunt’s in the saddle.”

Sierra hoisted herself onto Nugget and used her good arm to take Eve from Ruby’s arms. When Eve was seated, Ruby gave Jax a pat, and he flicked his tail. “All right, big boy, maybe we’ll stick to dry land for a while. That work for you?” The mule greeted her question with stoic indifference, and she remounted the mule and directed him up the bank.

Ruby didn’t complain, but her leg was throbbing from where she’d struck a stone during the rescue, and her back burned in protest from the unexpected exertion. She was reminded again that she wasn’t a young woman any longer, but forced herself to shrug off the pain – she’d been through worse and was still standing, and if a few bruises and bumps were thrown her way, she’d take them in stride. After all, she had to be alive to feel pain, and most she knew no longer were. In that light, anything but death’s hand on her shoulder was reason for optimism, she reasoned, and goaded Jax to greater speed. She was anxious to get away from the spot, unwilling to assume that their pursuers hadn’t heard Sierra’s yells.