The Day After Never - Blood Honor (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Russell Blake
the boulders that encircled the clearing. He saw the silhouettes of three horses near a grove of trees a hundred yards downhill and reassessed his earlier impression – the bandits couldn’t have been that dumb if they’d spotted his camp and taken the precaution of leaving their mounts behind.
Lucas arrived at the trip wire and stepped over it. The men were thirty yards in front of him, motioning at each other with hand signals, unaware of his presence behind them. He knelt down and steadied the M4 against a tree trunk and felt for the fire selector switch to confirm that it was in three-round burst mode.
The breeze shifted, denting the tops of the tall grass near him and carrying the stench of sour perspiration and decay from the gunmen in front of him. Typical for the scavengers who roamed the badlands, whose interest in bathing and personal hygiene was minimal. Lucas grimaced at the odor and sighted on the first figure through the night vision scope, the greenish image bright as day thanks to its rechargeable CR123A battery. The gunman was carrying what looked like a double-barreled shotgun, confirming Lucas’s impression that these were border rats who’d probably seen his fire and been drawn by the glowing invitation – opportunists looking for an easy takedown.
Which, if he had anything to say about it, would be the last mistake they’d ever make.
His finger tightened on the trigger and the rifle barked a three-round burst that slammed into the shotgun-carrying man, spinning him around before he dropped into the grass.
Lucas was already sighting on the second man, who twisted and fired in his direction, missing by a wide margin. Lucas cut him down with another well-directed burst, and the man’s weapon flew from his grip as he tumbled forward.
Lucas peered through the scope, searching for the third man, and swore to himself.
Nothing.
He’d disappeared into the grass and was apparently savvy enough not to fire blindly.
Which left Lucas with a difficult choice: wait for the man to show himself and hope that he was faster, or take evasive action and move to higher ground, where because of the perspective from above, the grass would provide less shelter for the gunman.
It didn’t take him long to decide. Lucas backed away from the tree and crept into the shadows, retracing his steps to the rear of the clearing and the jutting outcropping of rocks.
When he arrived, a part of him hoped that the scavenger had cut and run after seeing that his companions were finished. The man couldn’t have any idea how many were defending the camp, and now alone, with the element of surprise gone, he had no advantage.
Lucas removed his hat and set it beside him, and then peeked over the rocks, through the gap. As he’d expected, the grass offered no cover from above, and he could clearly make out the dead assailants.
But not the third man.
A whinny from down the hill confirmed Lucas’s suspicion. The third man had retreated, unsure of where the shooting had come from, and had made for the horses.
Lucas waited for several minutes and, when he saw no further movement, jogged in a low crouch down the trail to the trees.
The horses were gone.
He nodded to himself. Dead men wouldn’t need rides, and everything they owned was probably in their saddlebags, so the third man had just gotten significantly more prosperous by virtue of his companions’ possessions and the trade value of the horses.
Lucas made for Tango, still on alert. He paused at each of the corpses, holding his breath, and shook his head at the poor condition of their weapons and the filthy rags they wore. That humanity had been reduced to this level saddened him, but he didn’t feel any remorse. It was a kill-or-be-killed situation, as were most these days, and he couldn’t afford to hesitate or second-guess himself. The ugly new world had little use for mercy, and a part of him wondered whether he’d made the wrong decision in allowing the
Lucas arrived at the trip wire and stepped over it. The men were thirty yards in front of him, motioning at each other with hand signals, unaware of his presence behind them. He knelt down and steadied the M4 against a tree trunk and felt for the fire selector switch to confirm that it was in three-round burst mode.
The breeze shifted, denting the tops of the tall grass near him and carrying the stench of sour perspiration and decay from the gunmen in front of him. Typical for the scavengers who roamed the badlands, whose interest in bathing and personal hygiene was minimal. Lucas grimaced at the odor and sighted on the first figure through the night vision scope, the greenish image bright as day thanks to its rechargeable CR123A battery. The gunman was carrying what looked like a double-barreled shotgun, confirming Lucas’s impression that these were border rats who’d probably seen his fire and been drawn by the glowing invitation – opportunists looking for an easy takedown.
Which, if he had anything to say about it, would be the last mistake they’d ever make.
His finger tightened on the trigger and the rifle barked a three-round burst that slammed into the shotgun-carrying man, spinning him around before he dropped into the grass.
Lucas was already sighting on the second man, who twisted and fired in his direction, missing by a wide margin. Lucas cut him down with another well-directed burst, and the man’s weapon flew from his grip as he tumbled forward.
Lucas peered through the scope, searching for the third man, and swore to himself.
Nothing.
He’d disappeared into the grass and was apparently savvy enough not to fire blindly.
Which left Lucas with a difficult choice: wait for the man to show himself and hope that he was faster, or take evasive action and move to higher ground, where because of the perspective from above, the grass would provide less shelter for the gunman.
It didn’t take him long to decide. Lucas backed away from the tree and crept into the shadows, retracing his steps to the rear of the clearing and the jutting outcropping of rocks.
When he arrived, a part of him hoped that the scavenger had cut and run after seeing that his companions were finished. The man couldn’t have any idea how many were defending the camp, and now alone, with the element of surprise gone, he had no advantage.
Lucas removed his hat and set it beside him, and then peeked over the rocks, through the gap. As he’d expected, the grass offered no cover from above, and he could clearly make out the dead assailants.
But not the third man.
A whinny from down the hill confirmed Lucas’s suspicion. The third man had retreated, unsure of where the shooting had come from, and had made for the horses.
Lucas waited for several minutes and, when he saw no further movement, jogged in a low crouch down the trail to the trees.
The horses were gone.
He nodded to himself. Dead men wouldn’t need rides, and everything they owned was probably in their saddlebags, so the third man had just gotten significantly more prosperous by virtue of his companions’ possessions and the trade value of the horses.
Lucas made for Tango, still on alert. He paused at each of the corpses, holding his breath, and shook his head at the poor condition of their weapons and the filthy rags they wore. That humanity had been reduced to this level saddened him, but he didn’t feel any remorse. It was a kill-or-be-killed situation, as were most these days, and he couldn’t afford to hesitate or second-guess himself. The ugly new world had little use for mercy, and a part of him wondered whether he’d made the wrong decision in allowing the
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