Storm of Ghosts (Surviving the Dead Book 8) by James Cook

Author:James Cook
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2017-06-24T06:00:00+00:00

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A week’s hard travel brought the Storm Road Tribe to the gates of The Holdout.

The gates were shut, but there was a small access door allowing pedestrians and small carts in and out. People passed through the small portal, farmers, scavengers, and Travelers for the most part. Most of them looked haggard, underfed, and shabby. Heinrich suspected a few of the leaner, harder, and better armed people were Runners, members of a loose organization of professional couriers.

There were no caravans in sight, just Heinrich’s tribe and the four carts and eight horses they had stolen. The opium was wrapped in scraps of cloth scavenged from houses back at the river and hidden inside the containers of seed grain. Unless the local inspectors dumped the crates on the ground, they were unlikely to find the opium. Heinrich was grateful drug dogs were no longer an issue. Most domesticated canines had died during the Outbreak.

Security at the gate was impressive. There were men with scoped rifles in a pair of watchtowers and four armed guards on the ground behind thick bastions of sandbags. A heavy machine gun sat front and center, a guard standing behind it. As the tribe grew closer, the guard checked the machine gun’s chamber and took aim in their direction. One of the guards held up a hand, palm out, and blew three sharp notes on a whistle.

“Hold it right there,” he shouted.

Heinrich signaled the tribe to a halt. “Wait here,” he shouted, then jumped down from his wagon and approached the gate.

“That’s far enough,” the guard said when he was about ten feet away. The man on the machine gun trained his weapon in Heinrich’s direction. Heinrich stopped and stood still, hands in the air.

“State your business.”

“Here to trade,” Heinrich said.

“For what?”

“Livestock and wagons.”

The guard looked Heinrich up and down, then peered back at his convoy. “Lot of men you got there for only having four wagons.”

“Like I said, that’s why we’re here. Got hit by raiders back in Kansas. Got us at night, kept us pinned down while a bunch of assholes snuck into our holding pen. Managed to fight ‘em off, but they got away with most of our trade. Horses, wagons, all of it.”

“How many people you lose?” the guard asked.

“Eleven dead, four wounded,” Heinrich said, not missing a beat. “We left the wounded back near Spring River. Farming co-op there agreed to help ‘em in exchange for some seed grain.”

“Seed grain, huh. That what you’re trading?”

“Yes sir.”

“Let’s take a look. Call the wagons forward, but tell your people to stay put.”

Heinrich walked back to the convoy. “They’re buying it so far,” he said to Ferguson and Maru. “You two drive the first two wagons. Get Locke and Horton to drive the other two.”

“What about you, Chief?” Maru asked.

“I’ll walk. And don’t fucking call me chief. We’re supposed to be traders.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Heinrich followed as his men drove the wagons to the gate. When they arrived, the lead guard and one of his men climbed into the back of the first wagon.

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