Deadland's Harvest (22 page)

Kurt remained silent. He piloted the boat against the current, bringing it in between a small island and a group of tall dead trees with their trunks underwater. I peered into the trees on the tiny island. A zed’s hollow gaze leveled on me, and I shivered. It walked to the edge of the bank and stopped at the water’s edge. It didn’t growl or try to come closer. It only watched me inquisitively.

Kurt dropped the anchor before spinning around to face Clutch. “What now?”

“We wait.”

And that’s exactly what we did.

We had nowhere to go. As long as the herd was still here, we couldn’t go north without drawing their attention. The south was blocked by the lock and dam. We had to ride out the herd. An occasional scream blasted through the groans of the herd, and I winced each time. I focused on breathing in the smell of the river water and tried to imagine I was in a different world, one without zeds, but the relentless sounds were an iron maiden to any daydream. I curled up into a ball and covered myself up with a blanket as I watched the zed watching me while everyone on board the
Lady Amore
was eaten alive.

I’d hid and waited zeds out plenty of times, but this time was the hardest. Kurt was right about one thing. It felt wrong to sit by while people were slaughtered. I racked my brain for solutions, but it came down to the fact that Clutch was also right. There was nothing we could do for the riverboat. We were too late by the time we’d first seen it. Anything we did now would put both our lives and potentially every Camp Fox life at risk. The mission had to come first. The
Lady Amore’s
demise was our wild card. We needed it to distract the herds from both us and the
Aurora.

We waited while the zeds that fell onto the riverboat gorged themselves on its occupants
.
No one spoke, not even when I could hear someone screaming for help. To better hide our scents, we covered ourselves with blankets, which also helped to ward off the cold. Only our heads peeked out so we could watch for any approaching zeds, but the blankets did little to muffle the sounds.

The zed on the riverbank just stood there and stared, strangely not in a frenzy to reach fresh food. Its gaze seemed more curious than vicious. Still, I would’ve preferred to kill it, but it would have been a waste of a good arrow since the zed couldn’t reach us. Instead, I kept a close watch on it while the sun set.

When sunlight morphed into moonlight, the lone zed remained easy enough to spot. Its jaundiced eyes reflected light in the dark akin to a cat’s. Fortunately, unlike cats, zeds’ vision sucked at night, making their eyes a giveaway to us, as long as the moon was bright.

Clutch assigned shifts using hand signals, but I don’t think anyone slept. The constant moans of the herd cut through any imagined sense of safety. It sounded like a madhouse orchestra, with every instrument out of tune, and every note a screech. For the first time, I could
almost
commiserate with Maggie. I wanted to scream at the zeds to stop. They were driving me mad, but I was sane enough to know it would do no good. Instead, I focused my hate on Maggie, blaming her for our situation—even though I knew she wasn’t to blame. If she hadn’t gone nuts, someone else would have broken eventually. Still, hating her helped ground me.

Sometime during the night, we huddled together for warmth, rotating as we went on and off night watch. Each of our breaths made a tiny white puff in the night. It had to be below freezing because frost built on the wispy edges of my hair.

By morning, we were all snuggled together in the center of the boat, except for Clutch who’d taken the final night watch. Kurt copped a quick feel under the blanket, but I pretended I didn’t notice. Even though I wanted to kick him in the nuts, there were just some things a woman learned to deal with when outnumbered ten to one by men in the field.

I opened my eyes and found Clutch watching me. I smiled, and he returned one of his all-too-rare smiles before turning back to watch the river. Suddenly warmer, I closed my eyes, making sure his smile stayed imprinted in my memory. There were too many bad memories in my head already. I had to work hard to keep the good ones. I spent the next several minutes dreaming of our cabin and snuggling with Clutch. He gave me that smile before kissing me and pulling me to him.

Unfortunately, Kurt’s groping ruined the fantasy. When his fingers crept to my inner thigh, I decided I’d rather be out in the cold than under a blanket with him, and I shimmied out with a grumble. His finger looped around my belt, but I gave a sharp heel to his stomach, and he let go with a grunt. Clutch cut Kurt a hard look before giving me a questioning look.

I replied by focusing my smile completely on him and sitting next to him on the frost-covered seat. Cold wetness seeped through my cargos and into my bones. I shivered, and Clutch wrapped his blanket and a cold arm around me. He was shivering too, and I snuggled into his embrace. I found my breathing found a pace with his, and I placed my hand over his steady heartbeat. He leaned toward me and pulled me possessively closer. Feeling a rare peacefulness, we watched the sun rise over the trees.

Behind us, the zed on the water’s edge had disappeared at some point before morning. We’d gotten lucky that the herd had followed us along the western bank of the river. If they’d taken both sides, we were just close enough to the eastern bank that we could’ve been seen or sniffed out.

I figured we deserved the luck. All too many times, we’d been unlucky, and it had become expected. Statistically, things were bound to go our way once in a while. But when they did, like now, it felt unnatural and worrisome. Not that I was worried enough to not savor our temporary fortune.

Jase and Griz joined us next. Jase grabbed my arm. He had a huge grin on his face as he pointed toward the lock. I looked and my mouth opened. I grabbed Clutch’s hand but he was already looking, too.

The herds were moving on!

My heart nearly leapt from my chest and I squeezed Clutch’s hand. A line of zeds had begun to head south, and the ones left around the lock were following. It would take them a long time, but their trajectory was clearly the opposite direction of the
Aurora
. I hadn’t looked earlier because I was afraid of what I’d see. I grinned like a little girl as I snuggled in between Jase and Clutch and we spent the next several hours watching the exodus in silence.

By lunchtime, I was starving. Clutch had finally given the okay to eat. Last night and this morning, we couldn’t risk the smell of food getting out. While we waited out the herds, we crunched as quietly as possible on nuts and some kind of flatbread cracker that Vicki invented. Even after letting each cracker sit in my mouth to get soggy, they still crunched. With every bite, I grimaced, wishing Vicki sent something mushy along, but I was too hungry to go without food, and so I kept crunching away.

It wasn’t until nearly six hours later that Griz and Clutch broke the silence.

“Don’t hate me for saying this, guys, but I think we ought to check out the riverboat,” Griz said with an almost pained expression, like the words hurt to say them.

“Too dangerous,” Clutch replied. “I can still see the back of the herd. Too much noise could draw their attention back this way.”

“There might be survivors,” Kurt said.

“There will definitely be zeds,” Clutch countered.

“Just think of how much food and supplies are on that boat,” Wes chimed in.

“And how many zeds do you think are on that boat between us and any supplies?” Clutch asked.

“You’re lead on this mission, but what’s the harm in just going in near enough to scout it out?” Griz said. “As long as it’s stuck in the lock, it could be an emergency food run if it’s not too heavily damaged. Besides, we can’t head back to the
Aurora
yet, not until the herds are further away.”

We all watched Clutch hopefully. While I trusted his judgment—his gut was never wrong—a part of me imagined the
Lady Amore
as the
Titanic
and that we could rescue any survivors who remained. Since the outbreak, nearly everything we did revolved around simply surviving. The chance to save even one person from the zeds brought hope that we could eventually win this war. Even though the realistic part of my brain pointed out the hopeless odds of surviving a zed herd.

Clutch sighed. “All right, but we wait until we are sure the herd can’t see, smell, or hear us. So, dig in. We have at least a couple more hours to wait.”

And the waiting continued.

Three hours and forty-seven minutes later, Clutch broke the silence. “Okay. We’ll go in slow and keep to the east bank. We can’t do a thing to draw the herd’s attention, got it?”

We all came to full attention. No one smiled because we all knew that going near anything where zeds had been a day earlier was dangerous.

“It’s the right thing,” Kurt said as he climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Before we go, take five,” Clutch said. “We’re not heading into that clusterfuck half-cocked.”

After we checked and double-checked our weapons, Kurt started the motor, and then reached back and pulled up the anchor. He kept the motor at idle as he weaved through the trees that had camouflaged us all night. The wind was out of the northwest, so any noise from the boat was carried harmlessly to the southeast.

Once clear of the trees, Kurt cut the engine, and we rode the current toward the lock. We all searched for survivors as well as for zeds. No zeds remained on the ledges, but I could already make out at least a hundred on the top deck of the riverboat. Kurt kept the boat on the eastern edge, so the tall, concrete lock served as a wall between us and the migrating herds. Even though they were now several miles away, we’d all long since learned that one of the secrets to survival was to be overly, obsessively careful. The other secret? Having a shitload of luck.

“Careful not to get caught in the lock,” Griz said.

“Trust me, Sarge. I know what I’m doing,” Kurt replied.

I’d almost echoed Griz’s words. The riverboat blocked the entire opening to the lock, with smaller boats and debris lodged around it. Kurt pulled the boat closer and slowed to a stop.

Any hope I had of finding survivors, or at least access to food and supplies, was quickly drowned. The riverboat was
filled
with zeds. Through the windows, we could see zeds standing shoulder-to-shoulder. “We’re not going in there,” I said quietly. “Any food or supplies is a lost cause.”

Clutch grimaced. “The riverboat is a no-go. Let’s head back to the levee.”

Kurt started to turn the boat around. Something thumped against the hull.

Griz leaned over the edge and then staggered back. “The water is full of zeds! They’re floating just below the surface. Get out of here!”

Kurt throttled forward, but the motor ground and then died.

“They’re getting tangled in the props!” Wes cried out.

“Grab the oars,” Clutch ordered. “No gunfire.”

We all lunged for oars. I dipped mine in the water to paddle and hit something solid. I pulled back and tried again. This time, something heavy nearly pulled the oar right out of my hands. I gasped and put all my weight into yanking the oar out of the water, and a zed still holding the oar reached for the boat. Every nerve was on edge as I twirled the oar free. I swung and cracked the zed’s skull, and it fell back below the surface.

My brow furrowed with confusion. Zeds couldn’t swim, but these hadn’t sunk yet. Then it hit me, and my heart thumped harder. These zeds were climbing on one another to get to us. “Jesus, how many fell off the lock?” Goosebumps covered my skin even as adrenaline sent a surge of heat through me.

Everyone was too busy dealing with zeds clawing at the boat to say anything except curse the zeds. We were making no headway, and more hands were grabbing onto the sides. We wouldn’t live much longer if we didn’t get out of there soon.

Frantic, I swapped the oar for a machete and hacked away any arms that managed to grab onto the boat as the guys continued to paddle. Every foot we made north was a battle against both the current and the relentless zeds. Even in the cold temperature, sweat ran down my face. My arms ached and I struggled to keep a firm grip on my machete.

After fifty feet or so, fewer zeds reached up the sides, and the boat moved more smoothly through the water. I swapped my machete for the oar and paddled upriver. With all of us rowing, it took only a few minutes to close the rest of the distance to the trees where we’d hidden last night. Once there, Kurt threw out the anchor and then collapsed on his seat.

“Jase,” Clutch said. “Do you see any zeds heading this way?”

Jase pulled out his binoculars and looked to the south, and then to the other directions. “No. It looks like the coast is clear.”

“Good,” Griz said on a sigh. “Wes, get that engine fixed so we can get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” the older man said. He stepped out onto the deck and opened up the engine cover. Water splashed. “Agh! Help!”

I jumped over the seat and grabbed Wes by his belt. His arms were thrashing around while he reached out. A zed was trying to pull him into the water and had his head underwater already. Wes lost his balance, and it became a tug-o’-war as I tried to pull him back. His yells were garbled by the water. Others joined in, and we all tumbled onto our backs on the deck, yanking Wes back with us.

I jumped up to make sure we hadn’t brought the zed with us. “Holy shit, that was close.”

“Ah, hell,” Clutch muttered.

I turned around and saw the blood. “No.”

Wes lay on his back, looking up with utter terror in his eyes. He was holding his neck, where crimson covered much of his shirt. He coughed and blood leaked from his mouth. I fell on my knees. His lips moved, but no sound came out. With blood loss came lethargy. His features relaxed. He looked around to each of us, though his eyes couldn’t seem to focus. He reached up and touched my face.

He went to say something, but coughed and wheezed as he bled out on the deck. I knelt by him, my hand on his chest, offering what little comfort I could. There was nothing we could do. We waited until he lost consciousness, and tears caused my vision to blur, and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t wipe the tears away. Griz and Jase recited a prayer. Even Clutch joined in, the first I’d ever heard him pray. I couldn’t find my voice.