Deadland's Harvest (11 page)

I could barely keep my eyes open after my watch, but unfamiliar surroundings and dreams of massive herds made sleep fitful, and I woke up every hour or so. I finally passed out sometime during Jase’s shift.

“Cash.”

I lunged awake, grappling for my machete.

“Whoa there,” Tyler said and pressed me back. “There’s no emergency. I just thought I’d wake you.”

It took a moment for the night’s fog to clear from my mind. I rubbed my eyes. “Time to head out?”

“Soon.” His features softened. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, my heart racing, remembering flying a shiny airplane with gold stripes. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees.

He kept a hand on my shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

I thought back to the dream. Clutch, Jase, and I were flying somewhere. The engine stalled over endless fields filled with zeds. Tyler had woken me just before we crashed. “Just the usual stuff,” I said after a bit.

He rubbed my shoulder and gave me a gentle look. “It was just a dream. We’re all haunted by them. Don’t let it get to you.” He cupped my cheek before coming to his feet. He strolled over to Griz who was sprawled out on the mattress we’d dragged into the living room and nudged him with his foot.

Griz grumbled, and Tyler nudged him again.

I made out the words “go away” this time.

“Wake up,” Tyler said. “There’s some oatmeal on the table. We’re heading out in ten.”

I rolled off the king-sized mattress we’d taken turns sleeping on, stood, and stretched with a groan. With its cracks and pops, my body sounded—and felt—like it belonged to a fifty-year-old rather than one who wasn’t even thirty yet. “I could’ve used another hour of sleep.”

“I could’ve used another five hours,” Griz said as he geared up.

I pulled all my things together, and we ate standing up at the table. A few minutes later, Jase lifted the garage door, and the four of us climbed into the car. Tyler backed the Chevy out of the garage and into the quiet darkness of early morning. We drove down the long winding road parallel to the river until the sun was halfway above the horizon.

Tyler turned at an intersection that had a green airport sign pointing to the left. “If you see anything that seems off, we’ll abort and drive the two hundred miles. We’ll find a fuel stop on the way.”

“Let’s not,” Griz said, with his eyes still closed. “We need to get back to the park today if we’re going to make a mass exodus to a shipwrecked boat before the herds arrive. We’re on borrowed time already.”

“We can’t help our people if we’re dead,” Tyler replied a bit too quickly. He inhaled before continuing. “But, yes, I also agree with you. We don’t have time for delays.”

“There’s the airport.” Jase pointed. “Looks okay from here. No cars around. That’s a good sign.”

Tyler slowed as we approached the small municipal airport. Up ahead, the road became a roundabout, with turns in three directions. To the right were two large corporate hangars. To the left stood a row of T-hangars, each one large enough for a single airplane. Straight ahead was a single building surrounded by a wide tarmac that was unfortunately empty of aircraft. The pickings would not be so easy here.

Tyler stopped at the roundabout. “Which way do we go, Cash?”

I sighed. “Straight ahead. We need to hit the terminal building first. Lucky for us, it’s a small enough airport that there probably weren’t many people around when the outbreak hit, so there wouldn’t be much reason for zeds to stick around here.”

“Except for the ones still stuck in buildings,” Jase tacked on.

I nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we find at least one in the FBO building.”

“FBO?” Jase asked.

“Fixed Base Operator. Whoever ran the airport.”

“Can we skip the FBO and go straight for the hangars?” Tyler asked.

“The keys to get into the hangars will be in there.” I pointed at the building standing ominously alone just beyond the open airport gate. “We have to check it out.”

“You sure?” Griz asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve never seen hangars left unlocked before.”

“All right. We’ll take it slow.” Tyler stepped on the gas ever so slightly. The car crept through the open gate and he parked about forty feet from the FBO. It was an escape trick we all knew well. Zeds kept getting slower as they rotted away. If we had to leave in a hurry, putting a little distance between us and them made it easier.

I climbed out and breathed in the fresh morning air. No one moved far from the car. We took our time to scan for zeds. Jase was the first to head toward the building after taking several steps in a wide three-sixty. I followed him across the tarmac, crossing the white T-line marked for airplane parking and stepping over cracks in the old pavement. He stopped at the red door and looked through the glass pane.

“How’s it look?” I whispered as Griz and Tyler joined us.

“Not sure yet. Give me a minute,” Jase replied, taking a step back. “I’m going to check the other windows.”

With that, he took off at a run around the building. Jase was Camp Fox’s fastest runner. He was his high school football team’s first-string tight end and a state track hurdler for a reason. Nothing could catch him.

I looked through the window and saw some papers scattered on the floor by the front desk. No blood or stains marred the walls or floor.

I heard a rustle and turned to find Jase returning from the opposite direction he’d left. He slowed down and then stopped. “I couldn’t see any zeds through the other windows.”

“We’re burning daylight,” Tyler said.

I grabbed the door handle. “You guys ready?”

“You open, I’ll go in first,” Tyler said from right behind me.

I twisted the handle and pulled. Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and Tyler went in, holding his sword before him. Griz went in next, followed by Jase. I stepped inside and closed the door with only the quietest
click
to signal someone had entered.

The air didn’t stink of death, which was a good sign. Still, we moved through the building to make sure no zeds or bandits were lurking in shadows.

“This wouldn’t be a bad place for a small group to hole up,” I said after we cleared the building. “I mean, there’s the fence on the side facing the road, which would deter looters, and on the other side gives a full view of the airport to see zeds coming from a mile away.”

Glass shattered, and I jumped around to see Griz rummaging through a vending machine broken wide open.

“Not a bad place as long as you always had scouts on guard,” Tyler said before joining Griz at the machine.

I walked around the front desk where papers had been scattered. Behind the desk, a small window was opened a few inches. “The wind must’ve blown the papers.” On top of the desk was a clipboard with flight schedules. N-numbers and airplane makes and models were listed on each row, and I smiled. These were planes I could fly. Hanging below the counter of the desk hung several sets of keys. I set down my machete and leaned on the desk to rifle through the keys.

One keychain held a couple dozen nickel keys. It had a plastic fob with “hangars” written in black marker. The other key chains each held only a couple bronze keys, with Cessna or Beechcraft logos on the fobs. “We got lucky,” I said. “All the keys are here. We have our pick.”

I started plucking key chains off their hooks until a movement caught the corner of my eye. I looked down at the desk in time to see a rat—not a mouse but a huge fucking rat—run across my hand. “Ack!” I tumbled back, launching myself into the file cabinet. My head connected with the corner. Sharp pain blinded me, and I took a nosedive to the ground. Once the starred blackness in my vision began to recede, I let out the longest string of profanity I’d ever accomplished in my life.

Someone grabbed my arm. “You okay, Cash?”

I blinked until the two kneeling Jases became one. Warm liquid tickled my cheek. I touched it and then saw the blood on my finger. “Yeah. Damn rat. Surprised me, that’s all.”

Tyler stood behind Jase, frowning. “That’s one hell of a cut.” He turned away. “Griz, see if you can’t find us a kit.”

Tyler grabbed a box of tissue sitting on the desk and yanked out several. He handed them to Jase, who dabbed at my forehead and winced. “Dang, Cash. It was just a rat.”

A moment later, Griz brought over a first aid kit from somewhere. Jase made room for him, and Griz came down on a knee. He grabbed the tissue from Jase and dabbed at my forehead and cheek. As the seconds passed, the numbness became a throbbing ache. Griz tore open a towlette and just before touching me, he paused. “This is going to sting.”

“Just do it,” I muttered, and he wiped my cut. I hissed and clenched my eyes shut. Burning needles shot through my skin everywhere he touched. Jase grabbed my hand, and I held on tightly. “Jesus. It feels like half my face is on fire.”

“I can imagine,” Griz said and he continued his torture.

I opened my eyes after a couple seconds of no new pain and found Griz sifting through small items in the first aid kit. He pulled out a suture kit and my eyes widened and my jaw dropped.

“I don’t need stitches.”

Griz chortled.

“Yeah, you do,” Jase said at my side.

“Trust us,” Tyler added. “Griz will do a good job. He’s done this plenty of times.”

I swallowed and positioned myself against the cabinet. “All right, but if that rat shows up again, you sure as hell better squash it.”

The antiseptic wipe was nothing compared to getting stitches. The next ten minutes were raw agony. I begged for whiskey and morphine, but all Tyler gave me was a couple aspirin and a warm Coke. My hands were sweaty but I never let go of Jase.

Griz leaned back with a look of admiration. “That might be my finest work yet.”

I chugged down more of the Coke before Jase helped me climb to my feet.

“Be careful to keep the wound clean. That cut could get infected easily enough,” Tyler said, coming back over. He distributed the remaining candy bars from the vending machine, which we all dug into like kids opening Christmas presents. “Take as long as you need. If you’re not up to flying, we’ll drive.”

I shook my head, and I instantly regretted the movement. My face throbbed, but I said in between chews, “It’s just a cut. I’ll be fine. We’ve already wasted enough time on me.”

“All right. Let’s head out, then,” Tyler said.

I grabbed my machete off the desk and noticed a small mirror propped next to the PC. I looked at my reflection and nearly dropped the mirror. No wonder getting stitched up hurt like a bitch. A jagged enflamed line cut across my forehead and down my cheek, which looked almost like the number seven. I touched the skin around it. “Wow, that’s
really
going to leave a mark.”

No one said anything. I don’t know if they were afraid I was going to cry or what, but the urge didn’t even cross my mind. Times had changed. Before the outbreak, even though I’d always been a tomboy, I would have dreaded a big scar across my face. Now, the creek by our cabin was the closest thing to a mirror I had. Chances were this cut would leave a hell of a scar once it healed. Yet I’d probably not even notice it as long as it didn’t hurt.

I swiped all the keys, all the while keeping a careful watch for the mutant-sized rat. We headed out of the building and back to the car. “Let’s go for that row of hangars closest to the FBO first,” I said, pointing. “The doors will be easier to open, and that’s where the smaller planes will be.”

“You need to learn how to fly a bigger plane,” Griz said as Tyler drove us toward the row of hangars. “I hate small planes.”

“How would you know?” Jase asked. “You sleep through every trip.”

“Sleep is underrated,” Griz said. “And I still think Cash needs to find a bigger plane.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “Bigger planes are more complicated to maintain. They require a longer runway. Besides, since I have no experience in them, the risks of me making a mistake go up exponentially. None of those constraints fits our current lifestyle,” I said.

Griz cocked his head. “Good point. Small planes are good.”

Tyler parked the car, and we went about checking the hangars, first for zeds, then for a plane that met our needs. When I unlocked the fourth hangar, I smiled. “This is the one.”

While Jase walked around the hangar, I checked the plane over. Griz and Tyler pushed the large metal door open. Metal creaked against metal, making a horrendous screech. “Make it quick,” Tyler said after dusting his hands off on his pants. “It looks like we’ve attracted the attention of a couple zeds in the field off the runway.”

Unveiled by sunlight, a nearly new Cessna 172 sat in the hangar, the N-number on its tail matching a number on one of the key chains I carried. I stepped on the spar and looked at the sticker by one of the fuel tanks. “Hey, this one takes auto fuel! Let’s get this outside.” I grabbed the prop. Tyler and Jase each grabbed a strut. We pulled the plane straight outside. I unlocked the baggage compartment and Griz dumped an armful of food and supplies from the trunk of the car.