100 Days in Deadland (4 page)

“I’ll go get us whatever we need. If something happens to me, then you’ll be on your own again. It’s a no-lose situation for you.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Not good enough. I’m not set up here to take in strays.” He looked up, his gaze hard with resolve. “The deal was for one day. Come tomorrow, you’re on your own. I’ll get you to a car, but then we’re done.”

I wanted to argue. God, I wanted to beg him to change his mind. Instead, I looked down at my plate and gave a tight nod.

Clutch turned on the TV, and flipped through channels. It looked like nearly all the channels were offline. Only one news channel remained, and the reporter was giving updates on the major cities. With the TV as a backdrop, we finished the meal in silence.

When Clutch stood, I came to my feet. “Here,” I said, reaching for his plate. “I’ll clean up.”

He probably thought I was trying to show him how I could help, and he’d be right. He eyed me for a moment before holding out his plate. “I’ll secure outside. When you’re done, there are a couple plastic jugs I set out. Fill them with water.”

“But you’re out in the country,” I said. “Don’t you have well water?”

“I do,” he said. “But the pumps still need electricity. I have a manual pump outside that will still work if the power goes out, but that’s no reason to not be prepared in case it’s too dangerous to leave the house.”

“Oh.” I headed toward the kitchen and paused. I debated for a moment before asking, “Do you have a phone? I’d like to call my parents. They’re still in Des Moines.”

A flash of sympathy flashed on his face, and he pulled out a cell phone and set it on the side table. “I tried to make a call earlier but couldn’t get through. Phone lines are probably still choked.” The look on my face must’ve bothered him, because he added on, “But go ahead and give it a shot.”

“Thanks.”

He left without another word, and I went about cleaning up. After filling the five-gallon jugs, I sat on the couch and watched the cell phone still resting on the side table. I’d been putting off the call, afraid of having my worst fears confirmed. After cracking my knuckles, I grabbed the phone and punched in my parents’ number.

Call Failed.

Next, I tried to send a text message.

Message failed.

“Damn it,” I muttered, tossing the phone on the cushion next to me and leaning back, covering my eyes.

“No luck?”

I jumped at Clutch’s voice. “Service is still swamped. I’ll try again in the morning.”

He turned away.

“Need help with anything else?” I scanned the room, and my eyes fell on the windows. “I could help you board up the windows.”

He followed my gaze. “I’ll get to those tomorrow. I’m far enough out of town that as long as we keep dark and quiet, we should be okay for tonight. From what I’ve seen, zeds operate with minimal physical acuity. It won’t take much to defend this place against a few who find their way near the house.”

“I can help in the morning,” I offered hopefully. “Many hands make light work, you know.”

He watched me. “Get some sleep, Cash. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

He turned and headed up the stairs. He didn’t say I was staying. But he also didn’t say I was leaving, and I clung onto that tiny splinter of hope.

“Why do you call me Cash?” I asked as I followed him upstairs.

“You were dressed like Johnny Cash when you jumped onto my truck.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment “I guess I do wear black a lot.” I glanced down at the oversized T-shirt and long johns. “But not always.”

Clutch showed me to the guest bedroom containing only an old dresser and a full-sized bed. No pictures hung on the wall. The bedding was flannel and, though dated, looked enticingly comfortable.

I pulled back the comforter and found myself shoved onto my stomach. Clutch’s weight bore down on me from behind. My face pressed against the mattress. I tried to fend him off, but he managed to pull my arms behind my back, and I heard the zip of a plastic cord as it tightened around my wrists.

“Fucking asshole!” I yelled out, kicking, while he all too easily did the same to my ankles.

“You keep going on like that, Cash,” he murmured from behind me. “We’re going to have zeds from a twenty-mile radius upon us.”

I quieted, kicking at him as he backed away. No matter what he had planned, I refused to go down without a fight. “
Asshole,
” I muttered.

Clutch pulled the comforter out from under me. I tried to roll off the bed, but he pulled me back and then, surprisingly, covered me with the blankets. He positioned the pillow under my head.

Frowning I looked up at him. “What are you doing?” My voice cracked.

“I don’t want to wake up to find a zed loose in my house,” he said before walking to the door, where he paused. “If you don’t turn, I won’t have to kill you in the morning.”

Then he turned out the light and left me alone in the dark.

I bolted awake at the sound of a thunderous gunshot. My wrists and ankles were free, the plastic ties lying in broken pieces beside me. I jumped to my feet, and every muscle in my body protested. With a wince, I made my way to the window. The sun had not yet peeked above the trees bordering the backyard, but in the glimmer of morning light I caught sight of Clutch dragging a body and disappearing around the side of a smaller shed.

A zed? Someone else?

I scanned for more signs but found nothing. The yard stood empty except for a large vegetable garden that had been tilled for spring planting and three, twenty-foot cylinders of propane sitting side-by-side. Beyond the yard stood acres and acres of woodland, making it impossible to see if there were more intruders out there.

The birds had started singing their morning songs again, which meant my hearing hadn’t been permanently damaged by the shotgun blast yesterday. The birds chirped like the world was peaceful, but they lied. The world was deadly and vicious. And, instead of getting ready for work, I was about to head out and fight for my life.

I rubbed the pink scrapes that marred my wrists where I’d wriggled to pull free last night, but the plastic hadn’t stretched. I wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend that it was Wednesday—not Friday—the day before the world I knew ended. But, I needed an early start if I was going to find a safe place before dark. After a quick stop at the bathroom, I headed downstairs to find Clutch sitting in his recliner, decked out in camos, eating eggs, and watching the news.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen,” he said without taking his eyes off the TV.

I wanted to strangle him for what he’d done to me last night. But while I’d lain in bed, working at my restraints, I’d realized he was protecting himself. To be honest, I would have done the same if I’d been in his place had I thought of it. This whole time I’d been thinking of how bad
I
had it, never once thinking of how bad he had it. Clutch had allowed two strangers—one infected—into his truck and brought one of those strangers into his home. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d made the vow to myself to let go any remaining anger.

I’d enough to deal with the way it was.

I stepped into the kitchen to find fried eggs, bacon, and toast already on a plate. After having a huge steak dinner, I was surprised that my stomach was already growling. Then again, running for your life burns a lot more calories than punching keys on a computer.

I took my seat on the couch and dug in while watching some national news channel. The reporter looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept or been home since yesterday. A map of the United States was behind him with red
Xs over every major city. The map then expanded to the world, showing parts of Europe and much of Asia in red.

“The infected are considered dead by all medical definitions, but yet they continue to move…and feed,”
the reporter said.
“For lack of a better term, they are undead. Their bodily functions, such as heart rate and blood pressure are nonexistent. Their blood has congealed and they will not bleed out, which the CDC believes accounts for their stiff gaits.

If you must come into contact with the infected, use extreme caution. Destroying the brain stem is the only known method of killing an infected. Due to lack of blood flow, the brain seems to be their only critical organ. A bullet directly through any other normally vital organ, such as the heart, has proven ineffective. However, they can be incapacitated by decapitation or removal of limbs, but they will continue to pose some risk even incapacitated.

The high fever that sets in before the virus takes over seems to destroy most brain activity, which means they can be outsmarted if you do not panic. The infected are violent and hungry and do not seem to require rest. The CDC believes that their insatiable hunger is caused by the superbug altering the hypothalamus in a way to promote transmission of the virus. While a bite is the fastest way to transmit the virus, any direct contact with infected saliva or blood may lead to infection. Even a small open wound, such as a scratch or blister, carries risk of infection. The CDC does not believe the infection can be transmitted by mosquitoes or through contact with animals bitten by the infected, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility of infection through those means.

We have reason to believe the virus originated from a new biologically engineered pesticide where the cells were coated with silica. When the pesticide was combined with a specific cleaning agent, the cells were shown to mutate.

There is no cure. Infection rate is believed to be at or near one hundred percent. Once infected, the virus will take control of your body, and you will either die or turn violent. This was all the information we received before we lost contact with the CDC.”

Clutch tossed me his cell phone. “Phone service seems to be unclogged,” he said while the reporter started reading off a paper he’d just been handed.

I stared at the phone’s screen and already knew why the phone lines were no longer clogged. There weren’t enough people left to make calls. No one left to go to work or school. Ah, but the schools would be closed today, anyway. “Today’s Good Friday.”

“So?”

I shrugged. “No reason, I guess.” I swallowed and redialed the number I called nearly every day of my adult life. I tried not to think about how my parents could’ve been calling my phone over and over and not getting an answer. And if they hadn’t been trying to call…I tried not to think about that at all.

After the fourth ring, the call went to voicemail. My heart panged.

Hi. You’ve reached the Ryans. We can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, we’ll return your call as soon as possible.

I took a deep breath and tried to sound cheerful. “Hey, Mom and Dad. I hope you’re okay. I wanted to let you know that I’m out of town and safe. And I’ll see you soon.” I went to hang up, then added, “I love you.”

I also sent a text message to them before I opened my email though the phone’s web browser. Nothing but the usual spam. I sent off a quick email, filling my parents in on where I was and assuring them I was safe. I left out the parts about Melanie and Alan and sleeping tied up the night before.

With that done, I handed the phone back to Clutch. “Thanks.”

He gave me an almost gentle look before he reached behind him and plugged the phone back into its charger.

I thought back to the gunshot this morning. “Any zeds pass through the area yet?”

He paused. “Just one.”

Something in the way he spoke made me look up. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

After a moment, he gave a tight nod.

“Sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

After that, the news reporter’s voice was the only sound as I finished my breakfast. The military had set up roadblocks and bombed bridges, but I suspected Clutch was right. They were facing a losing battle at containing the zeds.

The reporter ran through a list of every major city considered no longer viable, which was government-speak for saying the military had pulled out and the city had been overrun by zeds. He could’ve saved ten minutes by saying nowhere was safe, because there didn’t seem a city left unaffected in the States. Contact had even been lost with Hawaii and was spotty with Europe and Asia. The northern parts of Canada and Alaska seemed to be the only places still keeping ahead of the outbreak, and I imagined masses of survivors were heading north already.

Clutch got to his feet, and I moved into action, taking his plate and heading into the kitchen to clean up. He disappeared down the hall, reemerging once I’d finished, with knives and guns strapped to his chest, waist, and thighs. Yesterday, I would’ve been terrified. Today, I felt protected. He may be dumping me off, but at least I’d be safe as long as I was still with him.

Which wouldn’t be for much longer.

A sense of doom weighed me down as I laced up my stained Docs, tucking the long johns into the boots. I tied the oversized shirt at my waist so it wouldn’t get in the way in case I had to run.

Coming to full height at over a half-foot above me, Clutch nodded, and I followed him silently out of the house and toward the big rig. Every step I took dripped dread onto my veins. When we reached the truck, he opened the passenger door and climbed up and inside. I waited under the sunshine, leaning against the tin building, while he spent the next several minutes examining the cab. Done, he hopped out and looked me up and down.

My muscles tensed, and I held my breath. Clutch would send me off on my own soon. While I wanted to make sure my parents were safe, I couldn’t imagine how I’d possibly get to them without getting myself killed. I’d barely gotten out of town yesterday. To head back to the city after a day of those things infecting others…I shivered
.

“We need to get you gloves if you’re going to help hang boards over the windows. Those hands of yours will get all sliced up otherwise.”

It took me a long moment before his words sank in, and my clenched jaw inched open. Without thinking, I squealed and hugged him. “Thank you!”

I let go about the time he pushed me away.

I held out my hands. “I won’t let you down. I swear it.”

“It’s just for another two days,” he said, holding up two fingers. “As I told you before, I don’t have the supplies to take in an orphan. Then you’ll be on your own. Got it?”

I nodded, hoping, praying that I’d be able to convince him otherwise within two days. “Deal.”

“Okay, Cash,” he drawled. “Let’s get this place secure.”

****

Three days later…

Clutch and I got along just fine. His clothes were huge on me, but it was nothing that an extra hole in one of his tactical belts couldn’t fix. He liked things quiet. When he did talk, he barked out military jargon and acronyms I didn’t know. I felt the nervous need to fill the silence. Even with a bad shoulder, he was a hell of a lot stronger than me. Without caffeine, headaches shortened my temper. When Clutch ran out of chewing tobacco two days ago, he got cranky.

But I never complained. Not once, even though more than once I had to walk away to cool down.

After all, Clutch was the only thing that stood between me and a world full of zeds.

“When the power goes out, we can’t count on the generator. It’s damn fussy and works only some of the time, and when it works it’s noisy as all hell,” Clutch said while we worked on setting up an early warning system around the perimeter. “As soon as we use up the perishables in the freezer, we’re going to have to ration.”

I strung another tin can on the wire. “I’ll start inventorying food and supplies tonight, and I can start planting in the garden in a couple weeks. My mom and I had just picked up supplies for expanding her herb garden last weekend.”

I swallowed a lump, remembering that had been the last time I’d been with my mother. Focusing on surviving kept me busy enough to not dwell on Mom and Dad, but I still thought about them. Often.

“We’ll have to make a run into town for seeds.”

“Oh. Okay.” Until the outbreak, I’d never realized how dependent I’d been on stores for everything. While we could set up the farm for long-term survival, there were some bare essentials, such as seeds, that we needed from town to get us started. Once we had a garden, we could prep our own seeds for next year, though I had a lot to learn.

Not that I could even think of everything I’d yet to learn without stressing. Surviving each day was enough of a struggle. “How about all those bags of seed in your shed? Can we use those?”

“The seed corn and soybeans?”

“Yeah.”

“We can, but we won’t want to depend on them. Seed corn is bland. It doesn’t taste anything like sweet corn, but it would provide some basic nutrition at least. Soybeans are a solid option. But no matter what we plant, we’re going to have to go old school and plant by hand. The tractors and combine make too much noise.”

I nodded in acceptance. Funny thing, before all this, I’d always been the leader with both coworkers and with friends. Now, I found that I could follow just as easily. Strange how quickly people can change.

Clutch’s life before the outbreak had been completely different from mine. He knew his stuff. He’d served two tours in Afghanistan and became a doomsday prepper when the economy turned to shit a few years back. I had complete trust in him, even though I’d known him for only a few days. To be honest, I trusted him more than I had anyone in my life, maybe even more than my parents.

I still couldn’t reach them, though I continued to send them an email every day. The email became my journal, proof that I still existed. I’d never gotten a reply, so I could only hope that they were hunkered down somewhere safe without access to the Internet. I knew it was a weak hope, but I held onto it nonetheless.

The last news channel had gone offline yesterday, leaving nothing on the TV. We’d scanned radio stations every few hours. Nothing was left on FM, and only random updates were sent through AM, and most of those came from folks holed up like us. No one reported anything on Des Moines, and I had to assume that whatever was left of the military had pulled out. Each night, I prayed for my parents’ safety, even though in the pit of my stomach I suspected I’d never see them again.