Read Online The Day After Never - Purgatory Road (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 2) by Russell Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: Russell Blake
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arrived in Mentone shortly after sunup and made straight for the mayor’s place. He secured Tango and waved away a swarm of flies that assaulted him as he walked to the entrance. Stepping up onto the small porch, he knocked on the double doors. A voice called out from inside, and shortly afterward one of the guards swung the right one open and eyed Lucas groggily.
“Yeah?”
“You open for trading?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Got to hit the trail. You open or not?”
The mayor’s voice boomed from the depths of the building. “What is it?”
“Give me a minute,” the guard said, and shut the heavy wooden slab in Lucas’s face.
Lucas waited patiently, and a few minutes later the door reopened and the mayor glowered at him. “This better be good.”
“Need to get some supplies.”
The Raider nodded. “Got pretty near anything you could want.” He studied Lucas. “Provided you got enough to cover it.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Lucas said.
The mayor eyed his M4A1s assault rifle. “Nice piece. Especially the flash suppressor. Don’t see those every day. Where’d you get it?”
Lucas’s eyes were unsmiling. “Santa.”
“Worth a lot.”
“Worth more to me.”
“What are you looking for?”
“5.56 ammo. If you have any grenades, always a demand for those. Maybe a spare plate carrier or vest.”
The mayor grunted. “Grenades? Planning on starting a war?”
“Dangerous world out there.”
The mayor laughed and then was seized by a coughing fit, the sound gurgly and unhealthy, like swatting a wet blanket with a baseball bat. Lucas waited until it passed, and then the Raider nodded. “I knew I liked you last night. Might as well come on in. Let’s see what I can find for you.”
Lucas nodded and stepped inside. “My horse okay there?”
“Safe as the womb when you’re in my place.” The mayor eyed his M4 again. “What you got to trade?”
“Some pistols. Couple AKs. Some mags of 7.62 ball. And that ammo from last night.”
The Raider grunted. “That’s a good start.”
“Let’s look at what you have,” Lucas said.
The mayor escorted him into the back of the bar under the watchful scrutiny of the guards. When they reached the door that led to the back office, the gunman there extended his hand. “Rifle stays with me.”
“I’m not here to drink,” Lucas observed.
“Rules.”
Lucas looked to the mayor, who shrugged. “You’ll get it back.”
“I better.”
“Pistol too,” the gunman said.
Lucas unholstered the Kimber and set it on the table next to the meaty guard. The mayor eyed it without comment – merely a nod – and then led Lucas into the office and then through another door into a back room that would have been the envy of many SWAT teams. Assault rifles lined the walls, metal ammo cans rose in stacks from the baseboards, and a pile of camouflage clothing sat in the center of the room.
Lucas let out an appreciative low whistle, and the mayor grinned. “Kid in a candy store, huh?”
“Can’t afford to stay in here too long,” Lucas agreed. “Walk out broke.”
“You want grenades, I got these,” the Raider said, showing Lucas a crate with several dozen green M67 fragmentation grenades. “How many you in the market for?”
“Depends on the price.”
The mayor named a figure in ammunition, and Lucas shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. I can maybe take…four.”
“Pick your favorites.”
Lucas did, and then his eye was attracted by an oversized weapon in a corner with a rotary magazine, like a shoulder-fired revolver on steroids. He walked over to it and paused, admiring the weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup. Milkor MGL 40mm grenade launcher. Holds six. Fires ’em as fast as you can pull the trigger, up to four hundred yards.”
“How many rounds you have for it?”
The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “Why? I thought you were on a budget?”
“Never hurts to ask, does it?”
“Got a dozen.”
“How much
“Yeah?”
“You open for trading?”
“What’s the hurry?”
“Got to hit the trail. You open or not?”
The mayor’s voice boomed from the depths of the building. “What is it?”
“Give me a minute,” the guard said, and shut the heavy wooden slab in Lucas’s face.
Lucas waited patiently, and a few minutes later the door reopened and the mayor glowered at him. “This better be good.”
“Need to get some supplies.”
The Raider nodded. “Got pretty near anything you could want.” He studied Lucas. “Provided you got enough to cover it.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Lucas said.
The mayor eyed his M4A1s assault rifle. “Nice piece. Especially the flash suppressor. Don’t see those every day. Where’d you get it?”
Lucas’s eyes were unsmiling. “Santa.”
“Worth a lot.”
“Worth more to me.”
“What are you looking for?”
“5.56 ammo. If you have any grenades, always a demand for those. Maybe a spare plate carrier or vest.”
The mayor grunted. “Grenades? Planning on starting a war?”
“Dangerous world out there.”
The mayor laughed and then was seized by a coughing fit, the sound gurgly and unhealthy, like swatting a wet blanket with a baseball bat. Lucas waited until it passed, and then the Raider nodded. “I knew I liked you last night. Might as well come on in. Let’s see what I can find for you.”
Lucas nodded and stepped inside. “My horse okay there?”
“Safe as the womb when you’re in my place.” The mayor eyed his M4 again. “What you got to trade?”
“Some pistols. Couple AKs. Some mags of 7.62 ball. And that ammo from last night.”
The Raider grunted. “That’s a good start.”
“Let’s look at what you have,” Lucas said.
The mayor escorted him into the back of the bar under the watchful scrutiny of the guards. When they reached the door that led to the back office, the gunman there extended his hand. “Rifle stays with me.”
“I’m not here to drink,” Lucas observed.
“Rules.”
Lucas looked to the mayor, who shrugged. “You’ll get it back.”
“I better.”
“Pistol too,” the gunman said.
Lucas unholstered the Kimber and set it on the table next to the meaty guard. The mayor eyed it without comment – merely a nod – and then led Lucas into the office and then through another door into a back room that would have been the envy of many SWAT teams. Assault rifles lined the walls, metal ammo cans rose in stacks from the baseboards, and a pile of camouflage clothing sat in the center of the room.
Lucas let out an appreciative low whistle, and the mayor grinned. “Kid in a candy store, huh?”
“Can’t afford to stay in here too long,” Lucas agreed. “Walk out broke.”
“You want grenades, I got these,” the Raider said, showing Lucas a crate with several dozen green M67 fragmentation grenades. “How many you in the market for?”
“Depends on the price.”
The mayor named a figure in ammunition, and Lucas shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. I can maybe take…four.”
“Pick your favorites.”
Lucas did, and then his eye was attracted by an oversized weapon in a corner with a rotary magazine, like a shoulder-fired revolver on steroids. He walked over to it and paused, admiring the weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup. Milkor MGL 40mm grenade launcher. Holds six. Fires ’em as fast as you can pull the trigger, up to four hundred yards.”
“How many rounds you have for it?”
The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “Why? I thought you were on a budget?”
“Never hurts to ask, does it?”
“Got a dozen.”
“How much
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