The Day After Never - Purgatory Road (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 2) (12 page)

“How do you want to do this?”

“One of us needs to keep watch,” Ruby said, patting her shotgun.

“You’ve had a rough night. I can take first shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get a few hours of rest, and I’ll wake you when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Deal?”

Ruby felt the weight of every one of her years as she battled the fatigue that had been wearing at her since the adrenaline rush of the river rescue had burned from her system. She could barely think, she was so tired, which made her decision easier – the younger woman was more resilient.

“Deal. But wake me if you have even the slightest suspicion anyone’s coming.”

“I will.”

Ruby took another look at Eve, who was already asleep, her face shaded by the trees, and smiled. Youth was wasted on the young. What she wouldn’t have done for some of the little girl’s calm assurance that everything would be fine, much less her stamina.

She lay down and closed her eyes to the rush of the frothing white rapids down the bank. Her back ached and her legs felt like she’d been beaten with a lead pipe. As she drifted off to sleep, her last thought was that they were really in deep weeds if Lucas hadn’t been able to find the note or, worse, never showed up at the rendezvous point.

It seemed only moments later that Sierra was shaking her shoulder. Ruby jolted awake and found herself staring into the younger woman’s frightened eyes.

“What is it?” Ruby asked.

“Someone’s coming.”

“Dogs?”

“No.”

“How far?”

“I…not very.”

Ruby leapt to her feet, shotgun in hand, just as four armed men with scraggly long hair and wild beards crossed the bridge, their weapons pointed straight at her. Eve rolled over, awakened by Sierra’s warning, and sat up with a shocked expression at the sight of the gunmen. The one in the lead stopped twenty yards away.

“Drop your guns,” he ordered.

Sierra looked to Ruby for guidance. The older woman shook her head. If they tried to shoot it out at that range, they stood no chance – and Eve would likely be killed in the fray.

“Who are you?” Ruby demanded, stalling for time to think.

“Drop ’em, or I shoot.”

Ruby slowly lowered her shotgun and placed it on the ground. Sierra hesitated, but faced with certain death, tossed the AR-15 on the bank in front of her and raised her hands. The man stepped forward. “Keep ’em high. Skeet, search ’em.”

A short man beside the leader moved forward and handed over his rifle, and then continued to the women and did a thorough frisk. He held Sierra’s 1911 pistol up, examined it, and then slipped it into his waistband. When he was done with the younger woman, he approached Ruby and did the same. Ruby suffered the indignity in frowning silence, not wanting to provoke anything worse than they were already facing.

Skeet moved to Eve and repeated the procedure. Once finished, he stepped back and regarded them. “That’s everything,” he said.

“What’re you delicate blooms doin’ out here in God’s country?” the leader asked.

“Point A to point B,” Ruby said. “What’s it to you?”

The man ignored her and spoke to the gunman on his left, his attention still fixed on the women.

“All right. Lenny, throw Skeet some rope. Tie the two young ones up, and Rick, you get the horses.”

“You can’t!” Sierra protested.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” The man spit. “Should be glad that’s all I’m gonna do. Least for now.”

“You have no right.”

“Got more guns. That’s all the right I need.”

Ruby frowned. “What are you going to do with me?”

“Everyone’s got a best-if-used-by date, lady. You’re way past yours.”

“Who are you?” she countered.

The man offered an evil grin. “Think of us as gypsies. We trade anything we come across. Sometimes stuff, sometimes animals, sometimes people.” The man paused and looked her up and down. “Nobody’s gonna give us anything for you. Not even Skeet there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m an expert with herbs and medicine. Teeth. Horses. Anything that needs attention. That’s more valuable than you may think.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? Prove it.”

“In my saddlebags. You’ll find a ton of herbs. You know many people that carry around large quantities of herbs who don’t know how to use them?”

“Billy?” Skeet asked the leader.

“Go take a look,” Billy snapped, his gun unwavering.

Skeet returned a minute later with Jax. “She ain’t lyin’.”

“So you’re going to kidnap us?” Sierra demanded.

“Way you should think about it is more like I’m not gonna kill you,” Billy corrected. He looked her up and down. “Come to think about it, you match someone the boys in Pecos put the word out about. Bet they’d pay through the nose to get you back.”

“You bastards…”

Billy laughed. “Got some spirit. I like that. Make the trip go by faster.” His tone grew serious. “Skeet’s gonna tie you and the brat up nice and gentle, less’n you give him lip, in which case it’ll go hard on you.”

“You don’t have to tie us up.”

“Don’t have to do anything. But I’ll feel better once you’re hobbled some.” He looked around. “Just you three, huh? Damn fools.”

“We haven’t done anything to you,” Ruby tried.

“World’s done plenty. Just the way it is. Eat or be eaten. Today you’re the food.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Lady, you’re starting to get on my nerves, and I only been talkin’ to you for two minutes. Maybe you should shut your trap before I think twice about takin’ you on a ride with us.”

“Where are we going?” Sierra asked.

“I’m thinkin’ Pecos might be a good start.”

“Please. Don’t do this. They’ll kill us,” Sierra pleaded. “She’s just a little girl.”

“Lot of misery in this here world, candy pants. ’Sides, way you look, they won’t kill you. Might wish you were dead by the end of it, but nobody’s gonna let a fine piece like you go to waste.”

Sierra looked away. “You’re animals.”

“Don’t hate the playah, sweet thing. Hate the game. Ain’t that the expression?”

Skeet and Billy laughed together at his mangling of the old maxim. “Now hold still, or you’re gonna get hurt,” Skeet said, uncoiling the rope. “Be a shame to have to hurt you – bring a lower price with a broken nose.”

When they were bound, Billy whistled, and another four men appeared from the trail, all of them filthy and feral looking. They approached Sierra and admired her with Billy, who was obviously the chief of the little band, and let their horses drink while Skeet and Lenny helped Sierra and Eve onto Nugget. Ruby got no assistance, but once she was on Jax, Skeet approached and tied her wrists. “Just in case, grandma,” he sneered as he cinched the knot tight.

Ruby watched him wordlessly, trying to keep any antagonism out of her stance, wary of drawing their ire – something Sierra would be well advised to figure out before she got backhanded, or worse. Sierra, as though reading her mind, looked over at her, and Ruby gave her a blank stare, hoping she’d get the message. She appeared to, because she gave a small nod and then returned to eyeing the men with a neutral expression, her anger spent now that the reality of their capture had sunk in.

“Okay. Skeet, you ride caboose on ’em. Either one tries to ride off, shoot the brat,” Billy said. He dug his heels into his horse’s flank, urging him up the bank and onto the trail that continued south toward a connecting road that ultimately spilled onto the Pecos highway.

Chapter 18

Lucas stopped at the shallow stretch of the Black River that immediately preceded the spill from the spring and listened intently as Tango filled up on water in the cool shade. It had taken him longer than he’d hoped, but he’d heard nothing of the dogs on his journey, so he was sure they were still well behind him. He rolled his head to loosen his taut neck muscles and ran a hand over the heavy stubble on his face – a reminder to himself that he needed a shave. He thought of his straight razor that his grandfather had given him on his eighteenth birthday, a rite of passage memento that still caused a lump to form in his throat whenever he used it.

The old man had been crusty and hardheaded, but he’d also had the unique sort of deep compassion that only those in touch with the land displayed – a kind of holistic ease with his surroundings that allowed him to empathize at a greater level than city dwellers. He’d appreciated the circle of life from raising and butchering his own animals and had taught Lucas the same lessons. The bond Lucas had with Tango was a perfect example – the two were connected in a way that was difficult to describe, but as real as anything in his life. The big horse seemed to be able to read Lucas’s mind in a way that shocked him sometimes, and part of the stallion’s willingness to push himself beyond any reasonable limits of endurance was a testament to that connection.

“Okay. We’re almost done. Only a little more to go,” Lucas said, and then his attention was drawn to three buzzards circling to the north, high in a turquoise morning sky so bright it seemed artificial. “Bad night for something,” he whispered, “or someone.” He led Tango from the water with a gentle tug at the reins, anxious to reunite with Ruby and show her the note.

When he arrived at the bridge, he immediately sensed that something was off. The atmosphere was tense, as though the balance of the area had been knocked off kilter, and his hand moved to the stock of the M4 as he slid the sling from his shoulder. Gun in hand, he switched the fire selector switch to three-round burst mode and lowered himself from the saddle.

The fire pit stones were still encircled, and a lazy coil of smoke rose from the ashes in the center. The spines of two bass told him that the women arrived with sufficient time to catch the fish, cook, and eat. But the fire was dying, so they couldn’t have gone far. He tried to imagine why they would have come to the springs as agreed and then suddenly left, and his imagination came up with nothing good.

The sentiment worsened when he saw the trail that led south. He knelt to study the tracks, his eyes flat beneath the brim of his hat. A lot of riders, but judging by the spacing of the distinctive prints of one horse with a mangled horseshoe, moving slowly.

Lucas didn’t need any more data to fill in the blanks. There were plenty of vermin roaming the wastelands, and three females on their own would have been too tempting to resist. He’d heard no shooting, so they’d been taken by surprise, likely exhausted after an all-night ride. He didn’t have to struggle to imagine just how tired, as his own muscles were sore from the trek – and he was accustomed to days in the saddle and had a better mount.

His gaze swept the clearing, searching for any other clues before he went after them. Unfortunately, the gravel riverbank left no footprints, so he was left with only the fire and the trail and his experience with the region’s miscreants to connect the remainder of the dots.

There was no blood on the stones, which was a positive. And whatever lead the group had on him would be trivial – the fire told him that much.

So it would be a matter of tracking whoever had grabbed them and dealing with them without the females getting hurt in the process. A tall order, given that he was only one man on a tired horse, who hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours.

But if there was a way, he would find it. He hadn’t traveled as far as he had only to lose his charges to some roving gang.

That it wasn’t the cartel was obvious to him. There was no physical way they could have made it ahead of him since they had no idea where they were going. So at least it wasn’t the Locos – not that any of the alternatives were much better. Raiders, scavengers, criminal gangs, the desperate and the sadistic…

You could never let your guard down. That was the lesson he’d learned over and over again: expect the worst, prepare for it, and if you feel safe, you’re probably in danger of being killed.

“Sorry, Tango. I lied,” Lucas said. Tango took another bite of grass and gave Lucas a long-suffering look, as though he’d already pieced together that any rest he’d gotten was short-lived. “Let’s hit the road, buddy.”

Lucas led the horse to the track and continued to walk beside him, reasoning that the poor beast had done more than his share over the last day and a half. It would do Lucas good to stretch his legs, as well as make it easier to note any discrepancies on the trail.

He’d ridden this one before on his jaunts into the foothills following herds of mustangs, and knew its twists and turns relatively well. Depending on how far ahead they were, he might be able to get past them and find an opportune area to lie in wait. There were several spots that could work, but first he needed to get a look at what he was dealing with.

The other complication was that the moment he started shooting, the cartel would be alerted and come at a gallop. Ten miles might have been a lot of distance stumbling around in the dark toward an unknown destination, but once they heard shots, they’d home in on the source like attack dogs, and then any meager advantage Lucas possessed would be finished – and it would be a bloodbath. Lucas wasn’t anxious to invite that, and if it was possible to handle his current problem more tactfully, he would.

He checked the time and sighed. The sun had only been up for a couple of hours, and the day had already turned completely to crap.

Chapter 19

The scrub along the side of the trail turned from green to beige as it meandered further from the river, and the soil transitioned from hard-packed clay to loose dirt. Lucas had mounted Tango after walking for nearly half an hour and peered through his binoculars every few minutes in the hopes of seeing dust. That he hadn’t told him that he had either badly misjudged the timing of the women’s departure, or the group was moving at a walk and being careful not to leave any evidence of their passage.

The latter was the most likely, but also implied a more difficult target for him. He preferred reckless amateurs like the Raiders if he was going to have to do battle. Stealthy riders savvy enough to take precautions bode poorly for his chances of getting the drop on them – they’d be paranoid as their normal state, which would make his job more difficult.