Read The Day After Never - Purgatory Road (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 2) Online
Authors: Russell Blake
Duke waited until the man was close and emptied the Sig Sauer magazine at him. The 9mm rounds punched into the gunman’s chest but were stopped by the ceramic plate of his flak jacket, momentarily stunning him. He froze, and then a burst of automatic fire from the bunker cut him down from behind. Duke watched as the man’s mouth formed an O and he pitched forward, his AK-47 sailing from his hands as though pulled by an invisible cord.
Silence settled over the clearing, and Duke called out to Aaron, “We got them all. You okay?”
A few seconds later Aaron’s voice answered, “Yeah. You sure that’s everyone?”
“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t shoot.”
Duke made his way toward the bunker, pausing at each of the fallen attackers to toe their weapons well away. When he reached the building, he took in the bullet-pocked mortar around the door and windows and grunted. A grim-faced Aaron stood in the doorway, still holding his rifle.
“What happened?” Duke asked.
“They tripped one of the wires. Came up fast.”
“Any idea who they were?”
“Negative.”
Duke stepped into the room, ejected his spent magazine and slapped a new one in place, and went for his rifle, setting the crossbow by the door. “This is bad news.”
“Gunfire will attract some attention,” Aaron agreed.
“Let’s check on the animals.”
Aaron followed the trader to the area where the horses were corralled further up the hill, and was relieved to find them unharmed. On the way back to the bunker, Duke’s mind was processing furiously, his mouth a thin line, his eyes slits beneath a frowning brow.
At the killing field they quickly gathered the men’s weapons. Their hair was long and unkempt, and all were Caucasian, with no facial tattoos or other identifying marks. Three had their eyes frozen open, their limbs already stiffening in death, and Duke’s nose wrinkled at the stench rising from them – a combination of death, dried sweat, and lack of basic hygiene wafting from their tattered clothing.
“They aren’t Locos or Raiders,” Aaron observed.
“Yeah. Probably scavengers. Problem is there may be more of ’em.”
“Could be.”
“Which means it isn’t safe here anymore.” Duke’s frown deepened. “Hate to ride at night, but I don’t see much alternative, do you?”
“We can stay put and load for bear.”
“If there’s twenty of ’em, that’s not such a good idea. Besides, as you said, the shots will draw every Raider and lowlife for miles around.” Duke shook his head. “No, we got to pack up and git. Let’s do it.”
“Where we headed?”
“We’ll camp north of here. There are some decent spots near the river. We’ll figure out what to do next come tomorrow.”
Aaron nodded. “Damn shame. I was just getting used to this toilet.”
Duke threw a final glance at the dead men, and then fixed Aaron with a worried stare. “I want to be gone in ten minutes. Pack everything we can carry. Leave the rest. The cart would slow us down too much and make us targets.”
“Gonna miss the power,” Aaron said, looking up at the solar panels arranged on the roof of the building.
“We can add it to our regret list. Now hurry up – time’s a-wasting.”
They made short work of hauling their possessions to the horses. After packing the saddlebags of all four animals, they mounted up, Duke with his night vision goggles in place to guide the way, and set off in the darkness, guns held at the ready.
They rode for three hours and set up their camp on the bank of the Black River near a spit of sand just above a rapid, the water rushing in the narrows before burbling over a scattering of boulders. Once their tents were pitched, Duke tossed Aaron some dried jerky, and they chewed wordlessly. When they’d swallowed their meager supper and washed it down with river water, Duke sat cross-legged in the moonlight, his AR-15 by his side.
“Least it isn’t raining,” he said, eyeing the horizon where the distant storm was playing itself out.
“So where do we go next?” Aaron asked.
“Beats me. But we can’t go south, and there isn’t much west. That leaves north.”
“Loving’s gone.”
“Yeah, but there’s more than Loving in that direction. We’ll find somewhere we can put down roots and start a new business. Just got to be the right place.”
Duke had a considerable store of gold, ammo, and weapons with which to start a new trading post, so he wasn’t worried about adapting. His profession, like prostitution, was one of the oldest, and always in demand. They would move carefully during the day and see what the future held. Maybe they’d find something up by Carlsbad, maybe further north.
“You want to take first watch?” Duke asked, his tone making it obvious that it wasn’t a request.
Aaron nodded. “Four and four?”
“Same as ever.” Duke handed Aaron the goggles, and then unrolled his sleeping bag. The ground was hard, but no worse than the concrete floor of the bunker. “Wake me if you hear anything.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Aaron sat with his back against a tree and adjusted the goggles before scanning the surroundings.
Duke yawned again, and with his assault rifle by his side like a lover, closed his eyes and was asleep within thirty seconds, his soft snores rumbling in his chest as Aaron cocked his head to better hear over the river, the goggles lending him the appearance of an extraterrestrial.
“Hell of a way to end the run,” he whispered to himself, and shifted into a less comfortable position so he wouldn’t nod off.
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