100 Days in Deadland (26 page)

After two more trips, one to the automotive aisle and one for soap and cleaning supplies, I leaned against the truck. “What else?”

“The best part.” He headed left, and I followed him into the liquor section. Most of the top shelves were empty, and several bottles were broken on the floor. Clutch slid the bat under an arm and grabbed a couple bottles of whiskey and I pointed at the Everclear. He dumped the bottles into bags, and I grunted at the weight.

I glanced out the front window to find the parking lot still wide open. “Still looking good. Knock on wood.”

Clutch shot me a glare. “Cash, don’t jinx us,” he warned.

I shook my head. For being a badass, he sure was superstitious. Smirking, I followed him back through the gas station and toward the front door. Before stepping through, I had a feeling of being watched and I paused. I looked to my left toward the café.

“Clutch,” I whispered, and he stepped back in.

“What is it?”

I glanced at him before looking again.

A glass door separated it from the rest of the station. When we’d first entered, it was empty. Now, on the other side, two jaundiced pairs of eyes stared at us. Two zeds—one who’d been a boy no more than twelve and one who’d been a slightly younger girl—stood. They were likely siblings, with the same hair color and similar features, but it was always hard to tell after bodies started to decompose.

Neither moved nor pounded on the glass. They simply watched. That was eerie enough. But what spooked me more was that they were holding hands.

Clutch tugged me outside. “Let’s get out of here.”

It had been a surprisingly low-key day. Zeds were blissfully few and far between, and we’d yet to see a Dog.

After the gas station, we hit two farms. The first was a quaint white house with an old couple inside who’d taken fate into their own hands by blowing out their brains. They were ripe, had likely killed themselves not long after the outbreak. Annoying flies buzzed around my head while I said a silent prayer for them.

“…Amen.” I tugged the shotgun from the old man’s stiff grip and went about my looting.

We’d gained some spices, home-canned foods, and much-needed canning supplies (even though neither Clutch nor I had any idea how to can), taking a load off our biggest stressor of not having any way to store food for the winter. The old couple had also been avid gardeners, but all the sprouts in the garage had long since wilted from lack of water. I’d found a few packets of squash and several gardening tools. It was a start.

At the next farm, the only sign of the outbreak were two graves with blades of grass just starting to break through the dirt. Hope pinged at my heart for the survivor who’d dug these graves. We’d spent several minutes calling out and searching, but no one answered.

Inside, we found the cabinets empty and little else in the house. Though, I discovered that the clothes in a teenager’s room were a near perfect fit, even though they were boy’s clothes. When I stripped out of my jeans, I paused in front of the mirror on the back of the door.

I had a solid farmer’s tan from spending nearly every day in the sun without sunscreen. Messy dark spikes did nothing to soften my blunt features. My curves had disappeared, leaving behind straight, hard lines. No wonder I could wear a boy’s clothes. Sure, Clutch had become leaner, too, but he’d been in good shape before so the change didn’t seem so severe. Me? Even my parents wouldn’t recognize me.

Mia Ryan truly was gone.

In a daze, I emptied the pockets of my old jeans, grabbed an armful of new clothes, and headed outside.

Frowning, I scanned the open area. “Clutch?”

He poked around the corner of a tin building, and he was grinning like a schoolboy. “There’s a fuel farm here. They’ve got an entire tank of gasoline. You won’t have to suck gas for a while.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile. Another backup plan to our backup plans. “I’ll mark it on the map. But
you’re
sucking gas next time.”

By the time we had everything unpacked at the park, it was time to cook my morning catch: two trout, one bass, and a small rabbit. It was a typical meal. Most days we burned more calories than we took in.

Every day, I’d wait until twilight to start a fire, when the darkness smothered the smoke, though I couldn’t do anything about the smell of fire attracting notice downwind. After a couple dismal failures in the first days at the park, I had finally gotten the hang of cooking meats so that they’d last through the next evening.

It was the first night in a long time we had seasonings for our meat. I closed my eyes. “Mm, I never knew salt could be so decadent.”

Clutch leaned back, rubbed his shoulder, and took a long swig of amber whiskey.

“Oh. I almost forgot…” I reached in my pocket and threw the can at Clutch. “Happy birthday.”

He frowned. “My birthday’s in December.”

I shrugged. “I had no idea when it was, so I took a guess.”

He looked at the can of chewing tobacco and smiled. “My brand, even.”

I smiled. “I know.”

He tucked it into his pocket.

“You’re not going to open it?” I asked.

“Nope,” he replied with a smile. “I’m saving it.”

After a moment, he came to his feet and stared out the window. The park office had no generator. The two-story A-line window of the cabin faced the west, so we had plenty of light up until sunset. After the sun went down, we either had to use precious batteries (we had even fewer candles) or get by in the dark. Fortunately, the days were getting longer, so sunset meant bedtime, or as Clutch called it, rack time.

Clutch turned. “I’m going to lock up.”

I wiped off the tin dishes we used, and arranged our weapons near the two twin-sized mattresses Clutch had taken from one of the cabins. I made sure the shotguns were loaded and looked over our bleak inventory. An AR-15 with three clips, the two shotguns along with an extra shotgun we’d found in a locked cabinet in the office, a box of shotgun shells, a baseball bat, a camping axe I’d found in one of the lost-and-found boxes, and a few knives. We’d also found a
tranq gun in the same cabinet as the shotgun, but we figured we’d have to be pretty desperate to try that on a zed.

Darkness had taken over the world by the time Clutch came upstairs. With only the two of us and few zeds in the park, we no longer did patrols like we had at the farm. Since the office sat on a ridge, it was the safest lodging in the park, but it didn’t yet have a fraction of the security features we’d built around Clutch’s house. If someone managed to break through the door or windows we’d yet to board up, we were fucked.

He lay down without a word, and I watched the stars wink peacefully back at me until I drifted off.

I awoke to the sounds of Clutch’s nightmares, just like I did every night. He mumbled and tossed and turned. Like every night, I crawled over to him and wrapped an arm around him. He rarely woke, but when he did, he’d roll over and pull me to him like I was his anchor.

His muscles tensed and he shot awake.

“
Shh,” I murmured. “It’s just a bad dream.” I pressed him back down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He looked up at me. In the moonlight, his gaze moved to my lips.

I ran a hand over his short hair and gave him a soft smile.

He cupped my neck and pulled me to where his lips met mine. It was just a brush, but then I deepened it, pressing my lips against his. For a long second, he didn’t move. Then he grabbed me and rolled, pinning me beneath him. He took over. He came crashing down to me, kissing me hard and deep, with take-no-prisoners intensity, and a moan escaped from my lips and into his mouth.

My thighs spread to cradle him, and he shifted, lodging him tight against me. I’d been careful never to cross the line into intimacy, but now that we had, I’d rather give up breathing than his kiss. After seconds—or minutes—of kissing me senseless, he pulled back, leaving me gasping for air.

He, too, was breathing heavily. His calloused hand brushed against me, and I shuddered in pleasure as he tugged off my underwear and shoved out of his boxer briefs. He cupped my ass and pulled me tight against him. I could feel his cock, hot and throbbing, press against my core.

“Clutch,” I begged and grabbed his head, pulling him into a brutal, raw kiss.

He replied with a growl. He slid his arms under my back, grabbed my shoulders, and plunged into me. I cried out as my body was forced to accept the sudden intrusion.

I raked at him, widening my thighs, pulling him to me with all my strength, but his weight held me in place. He clamped onto my hips to pull me even closer. He thrust hard and deep. Exactly what I wanted—what I
needed
.

He pounded into me over and over until I could do nothing but hold on. His low growls combined with my shameless cries. The next instant I cried out, freefalling into a climax. Clutch’s back arched and he bellowed as he pulled out, shooting a burst of seed onto the blanket.

I lay there, boneless, while he rolled onto his side, panting and sweaty. He lowered his head to the mattress next to mine, and pulled me tight against him.

Time was lost while I floated, the mattress unfeeling below me.

“I killed her.”

The words were soft, barely audible. “What?” I asked, confused.

“At the Dogs’ camp…” Clutch rolled onto his back. “Doyle left me in the silo, with one guard outside. Only it wasn’t a Dog. It was a woman.”

I pulled myself up onto my elbows and watched Clutch.

“He’d threatened to go after you and Jase if I tried to escape. He assumed I wouldn’t try it. He was wrong. He posted her outside my door. She had no training, no experience.”

I laid a hand on his heart. His muscles tensed.

“I killed her. Broke her neck so I could get out. I had to make sure you were safe.”

He jerked away, got up, and stood in front of the window.

I came to my feet. “It’s not your fault. Doyle forced your hand.”

“He didn’t force me to kill her.”

I walked over to him and watched him stare out over the dark valley below. “He did, in a way. He forced your hand. You did what you had to do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be alive today.
I
wouldn’t be alive today.”

He turned, looked into my eyes for a moment, then pulled away and grabbed his clothes and a bottle of whiskey. He paused at the top step. “She was Doyle’s wife.”

Three days later

“There’s one coming up your six,” Clutch called out before diving behind a pew to reload. I twisted around and blasted buckshot into the head of an exceptionally overweight zed, pumped my shotgun, and then took out the aggressive one reaching for Clutch.

I continued shooting, taking out their legs if I couldn’t get a good headshot. Clutch rejoined, and the church was like a Tarantino film, full of gunfire and gore. I used up my last two shells on a priest wearing a collar stained with dried blood.

“Reloading!” I yelled out and scrambled back several steps. I rushed to slide the shells into the shotgun while a zed in the form of a decrepit old woman stumbled toward me, its head askew with a broken neck. I’d only gotten five shells loaded when it closed in. I swung the gun up and shot it in the chest. The force sent it flying back, and my second shot was a direct hit to its face.

I looked around for what to shoot next but saw no zeds still standing. I frowned. “We’re clear already?”

“All clear,” Clutch said as he pulled out a knife.

I finished reloading my shotgun before slinging it over my shoulder and pulling out my knife. We went around to each zed, making sure it wouldn’t come back. Shotguns packed a punch, but they didn’t always get the job done.

Afterward, we stood at the baptismal fountain, washing up under the watchful gray gaze of a statue of the Virgin Mary. “Jesus,” I said, and then glanced at the crucifix hanging at the front of the church. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Did everyone in a ten-mile radius come to church when the outbreak hit?”

“Plenty of folks get religious when things turn to shit.”

My eyes fell on the priest. “Guess the priest would’ve had his hands full giving last rites.”

“Too bad the dead didn’t actually stay dead.”

I dried my hands on my jeans and scanned the corpses and toppled pews. “We used up a lot of ammo.”

“It’ll all be worth it if this place hasn’t been looted yet.”

I grinned and clapped. “Let’s check it out.”

****

What we discovered quickly proved Clutch right. We’d struck gold at the Catholic church in the town nearest to the park, if you could call six houses and a church with an attached reception hall a town. According to the banner hanging outside, they’d been collecting donations for a local food pantry to help the needy at Easter.

And we definitely qualified as needy.

“See if you can’t find a P-38,” Clutch said as he rifled through cupboards in the kitchen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I called out in reply, stacking another box of canned food near the front door with the dozen other boxes. “You know, for a small town, these guys were really generous.”

I headed back to the kitchen. “Everything’s boxed up and ready to go.”

“Aha, a P-38.” Clutch held up a small metal can opener not much bigger than a razor blade. He pocketed it.

My brow furrowed. “It’s a can opener?”

“It’s a P-38.”

With a sigh, I rolled my eyes. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

We headed to the stack of boxes. “You carry, I watch,” I said.

Clutch lifted two boxes and grunted. “Did you have to pack them so full?”

I patted his shoulder. “Just doing my part to help you stay in shape.” With the shotgun in one hand, I propped open the door with a brick. After a quick sweep of the area between us and the truck, I motioned Clutch forward. “Clear.”

He carried the boxes outside, and I stayed close, constantly scanning a full three-sixty around us. Afternoon shadows of tall trees danced like taunting spirits across the tombstones in the quaint cemetery on the other side of the church.

I opened the back of the truck, Clutch slid the boxes onto the bed, and we headed back for more boxes. We were getting efficient at looting, but we both knew that there’d be nothing left to loot in another year. We’d deal with that problem a year from now.

On the third load, I came to a hard stop.

“Aw, hell.” In one smooth move, Clutch set down the boxes and swung his shotgun around.

Parked next to our truck was a Humvee.

Don’t let it be Dogs. Don’t let it be Dogs.
I treaded cautiously toward it, careful to keep the truck between us and them.

As I neared the vehicle, I let out a breath as Griz stepped out from the driver’s seat and waved while still speaking into the handheld radio. Tack emerged from the other side of the Humvee. He casually gripped a rifle, looking none too bothered that we had two shotguns aimed at them.

When Griz put down the radio, I lowered my weapon. “What brings you boys all the way out here?”

“Standard recon,” Griz replied. “Damn, I never expected to run across the pair of you. That teaches me for betting against Tack.”

I lifted a brow.

Griz busted out a wide grin. “The odds were twenty to one that you two were zeds. Tack was the only one to bet on both of you.”

Tack gave a nod.

“Thanks.” I lifted a brow. “I think.”

“So everyone thinks we’re dead?” Clutch asked by my side.

“Everyone at Fox, anyway,” Griz replied. “With the exception of Tack, me, and now Captain Masden.”

Ah, so that was whom he’d been talking to on the radio.

Griz, joined by Tack, headed our way. Griz whistled at the church. “Gutsy move to clear out a church. We’ve learned to keep our distance from churches. They’re right up there with grocery stores and police stations as being zed hubs.”

“Beggars can’t be choosy,” I said.

Griz nodded to the boxes. “Here, we can help.”

“We’re good,” Clutch said, grabbing the boxes.

Griz held out his hands. “We’re not trying to take what you’ve rightfully stolen.”

“Recon, you say? You guys still out looking for survivors?” I asked.

“Some, but our focus has shifted more to tracking down Doyle. His guys are still a pain in the ass.”

My muscles tightened as I watched Clutch for any sign of emotion. I knew he’d never forgive himself for killing that woman. Not that Doyle would be any less forgiving if he found out Clutch was still alive.

“Lendt hasn’t taken care of him yet?” Clutch asked.

Griz frowned and shook his head. “We busted into Doyle’s camp and caught several of his men and freed some of his ‘indentured servants’.”

I cocked my head. “Indentured servants?”

“That’s what Doyle told them,” Griz said. “Doyle convinced them that Camp Fox wasn’t safe. So, for food and shelter, they had to sign contracts to service the militia for seven years. Lendt figured his attack on Camp Fox was as much to convince people that with him was the only safe place.”

My jaw dropped. “Holy. Shit.”

“But he’s surprisingly wily for his age,” Griz added. “His guys have gone guerrilla on our patrols, but there have been no more attacks on the Camp, so we know we’ve got him on the run.”

“I wouldn’t be foolish enough to count on that assumption,” Clutch said, pushing the box onto the truck bed and heading back for more.

“We’re not,” Griz said, keeping up. “But we’ll get him one of these days. You can bet on it.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ve made the smartest bets yet,” I said with a smirk before stepping back to the reception hall. Tack and Griz followed.

Tack picked up a box, and Griz lifted the top. “Who would’ve guessed that cheap toilet paper would become a luxury item?”

“How’s Camp Fox holding up? The civilians are all safe?” I asked, thinking of one in particular.

Griz sighed. “We’re getting by, but Doyle’s attack put a hurt on our supplies. Before long, we’ll be out doing what you’re doing.”

Tack dropped the box into the back of the truck and faced me. “That friend of yours, Jasen Flannigan, he’s all right. Fitting right in at the Camp.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. When I reopened my eyes, I smiled. “Thank you.”

Griz and Clutch set down the last of the boxes.

“We’d better head back,” Clutch said.

I checked the sun sitting just above the roof of a two-story house across the street. Zeds tended to disappear at night, especially on cloudy nights. I suspected it was some sort of instinctual need for self-preservation. They couldn’t see any better than us, so they could walk right into a river or off a ledge in the dark. Not that they were bright enough to avoid doing that in the daylight.

Except last night was a full moon. Tonight wouldn’t be much better, without a cloud in the sky. It would be a good night to be back at the park and locked in before the sun set.

“I saw what they did to your farm. That’s a damn shame,” Griz said. “Where you staying now?”

Clutch narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m guessing it’s out this way,” Griz said, looking around. “We’re tight on resources, but whenever we have a squad out this way, I can have them stop by to check in to see how things are going.”

“Things are going fine,” Clutch retorted.

“I read you loud and clear. But, the attack really cut into our numbers and decimated our ammo supply. We’ve started training civilians, but we could use all the help we can get.”

“Help?” I asked with a hand on my hip. “Tell me something, do they still have the prison cell waiting for me?”

Griz’s lips thinned and shook his head. “
Lendt’s wiped the slate clear on anyone charged with assaulting the militia. After the stunt Doyle pulled, Lendt realized that he had to revisit his approach to military law. Hell, you just might get a medal now.”

I didn’t share his confidence. “Clutch is right. We need to get going.”

“Hold up.” Griz jogged back to the Humvee and pulled out something. “This radio pack is fully charged, and it’s got an adapter for a cig lighter. I already dialed in our frequency. Call if you need anything. Leave it on so we can reach you. If we see any herds or any of Doyle’s guys sniffing around this area, we’ll let you know.”

Clutch nodded and took it.

“Thanks, Griz,” I said and followed Clutch to the truck.

“Do you think they’ll try to reach us?” I asked, closing the door.

“Yeah.” Clutch paused. “The radio is Masden’s way of saying I’ve been called back to duty.”