The Day After Never - Covenant (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 3) by Russell Blake
Authors: Russell Blake
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Lucas snicked from the corner of his mouth and Tango lumbered forward. They’d made it no further than a block when Lucas sensed a presence behind him. He continued on, and once he was sure that he was being followed and not ambushed, considered his options. Halfway down the block he spurred Tango to sudden speed, Colt’s horse in tow, and turned down a dark street.
Lucas drove Tango to a gallop and made a left at the next intersection. A hundred yards down he stopped at a cavernous car dealership that looked like a bomb had hit it, and guided the horses inside. Once out of sight of the street, he led the horses deep into the darkness and tied them at the back of the building, and then fished his crossbow from a saddlebag.
He surveyed the interior and spotted a stairway to a second story that faced onto the showroom. He took the steps two at a time and stopped at the first office, which had a window overlooking the floor.
Lucas listened for signs of the rider but heard nothing. The interior of the building was bathed in the greenish light of the monocle, but when he looked without it he could barely make anything out. Lucas cocked the crossbow using his foot and the rope pull and, after fitting a quarrel into place, heard the unmistakable sound of horses outside.
Three riders stopped at the building and stared into it, and Lucas realized one of them had night vision equipment as well, the distinctive headgear plainly visible. He ducked down, sure he would have to engage – they would see Tango and investigate.
He heard them dismount and then broken glass crunching beneath their boots as they entered the building. Lucas waited a few seconds and then inched up into the gap and sighted on the man with the NV equipment.
The crossbow snapped like a whip, and the bolt drove through the man’s chest. He gurgled and dropped his assault rifle as his companions glanced around, blind in the dark. Lucas cocked the bow again and set another bolt into place as the men scrambled for their fallen leader, and fired at the closest target.
The quarrel skewered the man through the shoulder blades, and his friend cried out.
“What the hell–”
Lucas had the bowstring drawn again and a quarrel in place in less than ten seconds as the man emptied his assault rifle into the darkness, spraying lead indiscriminately before feeling his way back toward the front of the showroom. He’d almost made it when Lucas’s third bolt caught him below his collarbone, shattering his scapula and sending him facedown into the debris.
The gunman howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Lucas was already in motion, all pretense of stealth abandoned. The shots would draw a patrol, he was sure, and he needed to get out of there before one arrived.
The last man hit was moaning and clawing at the carbon fiber shaft as Lucas walked toward him. Lucas leaned and scooped up his Kalashnikov, ejected the spent magazine, and slapped the full one taped to the empty in place, reversing the mags before chambering a round.
Lucas flipped the man over so he was face up, and knelt beside him.
“Why are you following me?” he asked.
The man shook his head. Lucas pulled the shaft the remainder of the way through the man and cleaned the blood from it. The man loosed a banshee wail. When it trailed off in a moan, Lucas tried again.
“Why were you following me?”
“Reward,” the man managed.
“From who?”
“The…Crew.”
“How did you find me?”
“We…watching for…strangers.”
“How many more of you are there?”
“Twenty…I got no beef…with you…”
Lucas’s voice was expressionless. “That’s good to know.”
“I…I needed the…money…” His statement ended with a burble from his chest.
“Not anymore. Sounds like it got your lung there. We both know you’re dead. Was it worth it?”
The man didn’t answer, his face blanching as he went into shock.
Lucas removed the man’s pistol from his hip holster and slid it into
Lucas snicked from the corner of his mouth and Tango lumbered forward. They’d made it no further than a block when Lucas sensed a presence behind him. He continued on, and once he was sure that he was being followed and not ambushed, considered his options. Halfway down the block he spurred Tango to sudden speed, Colt’s horse in tow, and turned down a dark street.
Lucas drove Tango to a gallop and made a left at the next intersection. A hundred yards down he stopped at a cavernous car dealership that looked like a bomb had hit it, and guided the horses inside. Once out of sight of the street, he led the horses deep into the darkness and tied them at the back of the building, and then fished his crossbow from a saddlebag.
He surveyed the interior and spotted a stairway to a second story that faced onto the showroom. He took the steps two at a time and stopped at the first office, which had a window overlooking the floor.
Lucas listened for signs of the rider but heard nothing. The interior of the building was bathed in the greenish light of the monocle, but when he looked without it he could barely make anything out. Lucas cocked the crossbow using his foot and the rope pull and, after fitting a quarrel into place, heard the unmistakable sound of horses outside.
Three riders stopped at the building and stared into it, and Lucas realized one of them had night vision equipment as well, the distinctive headgear plainly visible. He ducked down, sure he would have to engage – they would see Tango and investigate.
He heard them dismount and then broken glass crunching beneath their boots as they entered the building. Lucas waited a few seconds and then inched up into the gap and sighted on the man with the NV equipment.
The crossbow snapped like a whip, and the bolt drove through the man’s chest. He gurgled and dropped his assault rifle as his companions glanced around, blind in the dark. Lucas cocked the bow again and set another bolt into place as the men scrambled for their fallen leader, and fired at the closest target.
The quarrel skewered the man through the shoulder blades, and his friend cried out.
“What the hell–”
Lucas had the bowstring drawn again and a quarrel in place in less than ten seconds as the man emptied his assault rifle into the darkness, spraying lead indiscriminately before feeling his way back toward the front of the showroom. He’d almost made it when Lucas’s third bolt caught him below his collarbone, shattering his scapula and sending him facedown into the debris.
The gunman howled in pain and dropped his weapon. Lucas was already in motion, all pretense of stealth abandoned. The shots would draw a patrol, he was sure, and he needed to get out of there before one arrived.
The last man hit was moaning and clawing at the carbon fiber shaft as Lucas walked toward him. Lucas leaned and scooped up his Kalashnikov, ejected the spent magazine, and slapped the full one taped to the empty in place, reversing the mags before chambering a round.
Lucas flipped the man over so he was face up, and knelt beside him.
“Why are you following me?” he asked.
The man shook his head. Lucas pulled the shaft the remainder of the way through the man and cleaned the blood from it. The man loosed a banshee wail. When it trailed off in a moan, Lucas tried again.
“Why were you following me?”
“Reward,” the man managed.
“From who?”
“The…Crew.”
“How did you find me?”
“We…watching for…strangers.”
“How many more of you are there?”
“Twenty…I got no beef…with you…”
Lucas’s voice was expressionless. “That’s good to know.”
“I…I needed the…money…” His statement ended with a burble from his chest.
“Not anymore. Sounds like it got your lung there. We both know you’re dead. Was it worth it?”
The man didn’t answer, his face blanching as he went into shock.
Lucas removed the man’s pistol from his hip holster and slid it into
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