Deadland's Harvest (14 page)

The Second Deadly Sin

The following morning

“Amen.” Griz said after a lovely
hooah
-style prayer for Nate. Tyler and Griz rolled Nate’s body off the edge of the deck, and he splashed into the river below. After him, we tossed over every member of the crew and the zed girl. Luckily, we hadn’t come across any others during our search last night.

We still had no power. The towboat’s fuel tanks were empty, and Wes couldn’t get the engines started last night with only the five gallons he’d brought with him on the pontoon. Without heat, last night had been cold. The smell of death had managed to leak into the second level captain’s quarters—in some part due to our clothes—so we’d left the door open to air out the room. The sweet, sickly stench had a way of seeping into everything and becoming a permanent part of a place. Zed stench didn’t exactly smell like potpourri. In a way, it was like smoke. Once it got into a person’s clothes, the smell lingered and nothing short of a heavy head-to-toe scrubbing could get rid of it. Our best defense for this night was the minty medicated ointment to help clear the lungs. We put a dollop of the stuff under each of our noses and took turns sleeping and standing watch.

Earlier, Tack and Griz had fastened a ladder onto the side of the boat to make it easier getting to and from the dock Tyler and the guys were building. Jase had lost at rock-paper-scissors, and he had to scrub away the old blood and bits of brain on the bridge floor. Thankfully, it wasn’t carpeted, but it still stunk something awful.

I turned and went back to the pile of supplies we’d been carrying up one load at a time. While the ladder made climbing much easier, it was still a tiresome, slow progress carrying one load at a time up the side of the
Aurora.
Wes was busy building a pulley system so we could pull up larger loads, but there were some things that couldn’t wait for Wes to finish.

I rummaged through the pile and found the cardboard box I was looking for. I untied the rope around it and pulled out two brand new cans of disinfectant. There was a gold star on each can that read,
Kills 99.9% of germs
, and I chuckled. If only killing zeds was that easy.

I headed to the bridge, took a deep breath, and entered. I didn’t leave until I’d emptied half a can. In the galley, I finished the can. In the crew quarters, where there were fewer windows, I used an entire can. The other rooms would have to wait. With all the windows and doors propped wide open, I hoped for a good breeze today to freshen up the towboat. I was hoping we’d be able to sleep in the crew quarters tonight where we’d have real beds and it’d be warmer.
Somehow, I suspected the crew quarters would take a couple more days to air out.

“All done in there?” Tyler asked as I stepped onto the deck, savoring the fresh air. He was wiping his sweaty brow. Tack and Griz were each drinking water.

“For now,” I said.

“Good. Everyone, check your gear.”

I headed for my weapons, and Jase took the empty Lysol cans from me.

He lobbed them over the water with an impressive throw.

“You’ve got a quarterback’s arm,” Griz said, walking over.

“Nah,” Jase said. “I could never throw long straight.”

“All right. Quit playing around and grab your gear,” Tyler announced. “We have Camp Fox arriving tomorrow and barges to prep, so let’s get to it,” Tyler said.

* * *

One day later

Jase and I stood on the wood deck of the
Aurora
, watching the convoy approach down the highway from the west. We had hung the U.S. flag from the bridge, and it waved proudly in the fall breeze. The flag was our all-clear sign to the convoy. If the flag had been upside down or missing, our mission had failed and the
Aurora
wasn’t safe. I could only imagine how nervous everyone in the convoy must’ve felt until they saw the flag.

I looked through the scope of my rifle. I counted fourteen vehicles in all. With the exception of a sports car for our scout vehicle, the other vehicles were all heavy duty: HEMTTs, Humvees, SUVs, trucks—one stacked with crates full of chickens—and a large semi pulling a trailer full of cattle, hogs, and goats. That the vehicles looked unscathed, coupled with the fact that they were slightly ahead of schedule, meant their journey was—hopefully—casualty-free. I continued to watch the vehicles, searching for signs of damage or injuries to their occupants.

Clutch sat in the passenger seat of the first Humvee. He was wearing sunglasses, and his arm rested on the doorframe, his window open. I slung my rifle onto my shoulder and gave Jase a wide grin. “Everything looks good. I see Clutch in front.”

He returned my smile and let out a deep breath. “Good. I was hoping we hadn’t stirred up any herds on our way over. I’ll go tell the others.” He jogged to the galley and toward the engine room where Wes and two of Sorenson’s people were finishing repairs. The
Lady Amore
had stopped by yesterday, and Sorenson had left three of his people, including his daughter, to help us get up and running. Their help and expertise were invaluable. His daughter, Nikki, had been born with sea legs, and she had a salty demeanor that came from spending most of her life on the river. She had been the one to get the engines running. Over the last twenty-four hours, we’d completed far more than we could’ve done with everyone from Camp Fox combined.

Not that Sorenson had done all that out of the goodness of his heart. The new world was built on bartering, and he was one of the best at it. For three of his people to stay two days, Tyler gave him two pallets of MREs, which cut our MRE supply in half. Sorenson had delivered two more pontoons in exchange for the .30 cal on the back of Tyler’s Humvee. I told Tyler he was being too generous, but he believed it was more important to get the towboat and barges set up to sustain Camp Fox.

If we had to stay the full winter on the
Aurora
or took on any more survivors, we didn’t have a single ration to spare. Tyler counted on any remaining zeds in the area to clear out and migrate with the herds, leaving the Midwest free for us to get what we needed from the bigger stores in towns. I didn’t have as much confidence. I knew for a fact that some buildings had quite a few zeds penned inside. I wasn’t looking forward to finding out which buildings those were.

“Shit. Is the entire group soldiers?” Nikki Sorenson asked at my side.

I started, not realizing she’d come up behind me. I looked at the now-stopped convoy on the east bank, where people were getting out and stretching, including Manny. Until Manny and his people had arrived, Camp Fox only had about ten civilians, the rest being soldiers—mostly Guardsmen. It hadn’t always been that way. After the outbreak, there had been well over a hundred non-military residents at Camp Fox. Doyle’s attack on Camp Fox had changed all that. The head of the militia had attacked when nearly all the soldiers were fixing the camp’s perimeter. No one had ever expected the attack to come from inside the base. The camp’s population had been decimated, and I’d almost lost Clutch.

Only forty-two survivors had made it to the Fox National Park to rebuild Camp Fox. Even with stragglers coming in every week, soldiers outnumbered civvies three to one. I think that was part of the reason why Tyler and Griz were overly protective of Jase and me. They still saw us as civvies rather than soldiers.

“Most are, I guess,” I said finally.

From this distance, even most civvies could pass as soldiers. Many of the Fox survivors, including myself, wore desert tan or olive drab from Camp Fox’s supply rooms as it was our most abundant source of durable clothing.

“Must be nice to have that kind of protection,” she said, her tone caustic.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so, but it’s not like we’re not pulling our own weight. We all look after each other in some way.”

Jase emerged from the galley and headed our way. “Wes says they’re nearly done down there. We’ll have power tonight, but there’s not much diesel fuel left for the engines. We’re going to have to go on a fuel run soon.”

“Ha. Good luck with that,” Nikki said. “There’s no diesel fuel along this river for fifty miles in either direction. You’ll have to go onto dry land to find any.”

“We’ll find some,” I said.

“As long as you’re not taking what the
Lady Amore
needs,” she quickly added.

My brows rose. “We’re not competing. We’re all in this together.”

With her droll look, I could tell Nikki wasn’t convinced. “The
Lady Amore
needs fuel or else we’re dead in the water. The
Aurora
isn’t going anywhere, so it’s not like you need it.”

I chuckled. “We don’t need it for the boat. We need it for the generators. We’re just shooting for a couple luxuries to keep morale up: lights in the barges, some hot water, some portable heaters, and a couple working toilets.”

“Hmph.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t even understand why you couldn’t just hop in a jet and fly all your people to safety.”

My hands slid to my hips. I’d heard this all before, and it pissed me off every time. “Just because I have a pilot’s license doesn’t mean I can fly anything out there. You have a driver’s license. Does that mean you can drive a big semi-truck or bulldozer?”

Jase cut between us. “It’s all going to work out,” he said. “Don’t be so sensitive. Sheesh.”

After a moment, I sighed. “We’re all trying to just get by.”

“Say that to the river towns,” a man from the
Lady Amore
chimed in as he approached. I tried to remember his name.

“Hey, Bill,” Jase said as he fidgeted with his binoculars.

Ah, Bill.

Bill nodded to Jase before continuing. “Those towns that aren’t completely infested by zeds are having walls built around them. It’s getting harder and harder to find an open dock that’s big enough for the
Lady
.”

“The towns are closing off their docks?” I asked.

“No, they charge docking fees. Not to mention the outrageous fees for fuel and food,” he replied.

“It’s a cutthroat world,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Yeah, times were tough, but I’d seen the
Lady Amore
in action. They were managing just fine.

“Looks like they’re getting ready to load the pontoons,” Jase said at my side, looking through a pair of binoculars.

I lifted my rifle and looked through the scope. Everyone in the convoy, with scouts on the outliers standing guard, was busy unloading supplies around Tyler by the three pontoons. Two dead zeds floated facedown nearby.

“I wish we had a better place to secure all the vehicles,” Jase said. “It sucks leaving them out in the open like that.”

The vehicles, still laden with anything worth taking from the park, had been backed into a semi-circle around the dock to both protect the small boat ramp as well as enable efficient unloading. Soon, everything on the vehicles would be moved onto the
Aurora,
though I suspected loading the livestock on the pontoons would make for an entertaining afternoon show.

I pointed to the tree line near the dock. “Tyler thought we’d park them just off the road by the woods.”

“We could try to camouflage them,” Jase said. “Even so, I don’t see how we can possibly hide an entire convoy. Is Tyler planning on keeping at least one scout on land to keep an eye on them?”

“I think so.” I thought of long, cold nights outside ahead of us and shivered.

“Until the herds come,” Nikki added. “Then you’d better hope there’s no one still there.”

Being reminded of the reason for this journey quickly sobered me. “Yeah. Until the herds come.”

“Let me see, Jase,” Nikki said.

I glanced away from my scope to see Nikki holding out her hand. Jase handed her his binoculars. After several long moments, her mouth slowly dropped open. “My God, it looks like the Army is moving in. How much stuff are you guys moving?”

“Stuff?” I shrugged. “Just the usual. Anything we can eat or use, we’re bringing onto the barge to keep it safe.”

Nikki watched me for a moment before looking through the binoculars again. “You should be careful. The more you have, the more you have to lose.”

Nikki Sorenson’s words pierced any hope I had at sleeping. It wasn’t so much what she’d said. It was
how
she’d said it, like she was taunting us at how much we had to lose, like she knew something we didn’t. Or it could’ve been just another one of her catty remarks. Unlikely the former, probably the latter.

I tossed and turned in my bunk, trying not to wake anyone else in the crew quarters below decks, which had become the new residence of
Camp Fox’s scouts. We filled up all eighteen beds, and eleven of the bunks were shared by scouts working alternating shifts. Using the crew quarters made it easier to rotate shifts than bunking with the civvies in the large, steel Number One barge, which would add at least five minutes onto any scout’s response time.

The four barges closest to the towboat were in good shape, and two of Sorenson’s people had been busy moving enough grain from the barges closest to the towboat to the barges further away so that we could use some of the areas for the general residence and livestock. Finding eight barges of grain, with most of it not rotten, was a goldmine. Of course, Sorenson’s guy immediately claimed one hundred percent rights to the grain, but fortunately, Tyler talked him down to fifty percent more quickly than I’d expected.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, I shoved the blanket off me, sat up, and climbed out from the bottom bunk that had belonged to one of the towboat’s previous crew. Probably one I’d shot.

From the top bunk, Jase rolled over. “What’s up?” he asked, sounding wide awake.

“I’m going to check on the Number Three barge,” I said softly so I wouldn’t wake anyone in the crew quarters. “Something Nikki said earlier. I just need to make sure everything’s secure. Then I’ll be right back.”

Jase sat up. “So it wasn’t just me. Yeah, I got a bad vibe, too. How about I join you.”

“Thanks.” I reached up and grabbed my belt that hung off the corner of my bunk and latched it around my waist. By the time I’d finished fastening my holster and sheath, Jase was armed and ready to go. We headed up the stairs and into the galley, which made up the entire first level of the towboat. A lantern was lit on a table in the center, and Frost was reading a paperback that had seen better days. Diesel was missing and likely serving as a bed for Benji like the dog did every night.

“Where are you two going?”

I turned to see Clutch watching us from the couch that he’d turned into his bed. It was too much hassle for him to sleep downstairs in the crew quarters. He had regained minimal coordinating movement in his legs and still struggled with stairs. Every day, he made it a few more steps with crutches than the day before, but it was clearly exhausting for him.

I rolled my eyes. “Is everyone awake on this boat?”

“We’re going to check out barge Three,” Jase said.

He sat up. “Barge Three? Why?”

“We both had a feeling,” I said simply.

“I’m coming, too,” he said, tugging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to,” I said. “It’s probably nothing. Just a suspicion that’s been nagging me.”

Clutch slid onto his wheelchair and grabbed his crutches. “And if it’s not?” He took the lead, and wheeled out of the galley. Frost never even looked up from his book, though I’m sure he’d listened to every word.

As we crossed the deck of the towboat, I looked up at the bridge to see Tyler drinking coffee as he went through papers. He should’ve been sound asleep by now, but he was one of those folks that felt the need to always be in control. He bore all the weight of Camp Fox on his shoulders. Sometimes, I thought he was afraid the community would collapse without his leadership. Maybe he was our white knight. But maybe he just needed to have faith in the community we all had a hand in building.

I tripped over Clutch’s chair and barely caught myself from tumbling over him. “Oomph. Sorry,” I muttered.

“Graceful,” Jase teased with a grin, his white teeth easily seen in the starlit night.

With a sigh, I saw the large, rectangular-shaped barges in the night sky. The general residence had been set up in Number One, the barge closest to the island and in the row of the four closest to the towboat, making it the safest barge from any bandits who might come across the highway bridge and notice us.
Makeshift wood plank bridges had been built from the towboat to each barge. None of the barges were cozy by any stretch, but they would work.

Next to One, Number Two was our commons area. Numbers Two and Three were the easiest to get to from the towboat for a reason. As we crossed the manmade bridge of two-by-sixes to Number Three, Clutch’s wheelchair made a nearly-silent rolling sound over the wood, while Jase’s and my boot steps made thumps in the night.

Number Three held all our stockpile of canned and dried food, weapons, and other supplies. It was our own Fort Knox, making it critical that we could get to it easily from the towboat. To its right, the livestock was set up in Number Four, the barge facing the highway bridge. Cattle mooed softly in the night air. If the livestock were any closer, people would constantly complain about the smell.

The second row of barges wasn’t used except for storing grain. Number Five, on just the other side of Number One, had hit the island at the wrong angle, and its hull had been compromised. Grain had dumped out onto the ground. The remaining three viable barges were full of precious grain. When we’d discovered it yesterday, we danced like maniacs and whooped like fools. For the first time, we knew with confidence that we’d get through the winter, let alone spring and summer, without starving. We’d get sick of grain and likely have some serious nutritional deficiencies, but we’d survive.

As we approached the wide opening to Three, our steps became softer and slower. I could hear nothing out of the ordinary. In the distance, Kurt waved before turning back to his guard duty. Wes had opened the bays to the first row of barges to air out the dangerous grain dust.

Jase looked down the narrow, metal stairway, pulled out his rifle, and clicked on his flashlight. “I’ll take lead.”

Clutch pulled up to the edge of the open bay. He set his crutches on the deck next to him and laid his rifle on his lap. “If either of you see anything suspicious, flash your lights in my direction.”

I pulled out my sidearm and snapped the small flashlight onto it. The Glock and all its accessories had been a surprise from Tyler for my birthday. I think it was his way to finally show that he wasn’t angry with me anymore for leaving him behind when I went after Doyle on my own. I peered into the darkness, my nerves making my senses
hypersensitive. “It looks quiet down there. Knock on wood, everything will be just fine and we’ll be back in bed in no time.”

Clutch narrowed his eyes at me. After a moment, I shrugged and couldn’t help but smirk at his superstitious nature. He was a firm believer that if any of us said something would be easy, it was sure to have problems. Just because he was right
most
of the time only made the superstition a coincidence, not a fact.

Oh, and Clutch also didn’t believe in coincidences.

Jase gave me a slow shake of his head before taking the first step into the barge. I followed him down the steps, slowly scanning the floor and pallets with my mounted flashlight. Nothing seemed out of place. No tarps had been torn off. No supplies were scattered. The tension in my muscles eased. My imagination had been working overtime. Everything was fine. I’d been overreacting.

As I reached the last step, I could make out an almost imperceptible, powered hum, and I frowned. “Do you hear that?” I whispered.

Jase paused and looked at me and then did a three-sixty. “Yeah,” He replied just as quietly. “Sounds like it’s coming from that way.” He pointed with his flashlight and led us toward the long side of the barge.

Wes had gotten the engines running, but they weren’t running right now, and there were no generators running on this barge. Tyler had mandated we needed to save power until we found more fuel and the temperatures dipped below freezing. There were several small gas-powered generators spread across the barges to help with lighting, cooking, and plumbing, but there should be none in a barge being used only for storage. Yet, the noise grew as we drew closer.

“What the hell is a generator doing on down here?” Jase asked.

My eyes narrowed on a tarp against the wall. Unlike the other tarps that sat squarely over pallets, this one seemed misshapen and tight against the side of the hull. There, on the edges of the tarp, warm light bled through the edges of the tarp.

“I don’t like this.” I raised my Glock and turned the light on and off three times. A light from the deck above did the same back at us.

Jase turned off his light to have both hands on his rifle. Seconds later, I heard the sounds of boots pounding down the steps.

The tarp moved, and a masculine shape crawled out from under it. “Lay off. I said I’ll check it out.”

As he stood, I leveled the light in his eyes. “Don’t move!”

Philip from the
Lady Amore
held a hand over his eyes, and then spun around. “Run!”

The tarp was thrown open and two more shapes bolted out.

Jase stepped up to Philip and coldcocked him with the butt of his rifle. The man fell to the ground with a solid thud. The other two ran behind pallets, and we both took off after them.

Jase quickly took the lead and cut between the pallets while I ran straight ahead and took the next chance to get behind the pallets just in time to see Jase tackle a smaller shape.

As he yanked her to her feet, I noticed it was Nikki.

My mouth dropped.
Son of a bitch.

“I’ve got her,” Jase said. “Quit wiggling, dammit.”

“Do you need help?” I asked, glaring at the woman.

“No, I’ve got it covered,” he quickly replied.

“Right!” I took off running in the direction the two had been headed. When I reached the end of the barge, I made a hard right and climbed over a pallet of boxes. Pain shot through my scarred leg, reminding me that it wasn’t fully healed. I needn’t have hurried. Several feet away, Kurt had Bill from Sorenson’s crew restrained, while another scout was dragging an unconscious Philip across the shadowed floor.

I headed back to Jase to make sure he had Nikki under control. She must not have behaved, because he now carried her lax form over his shoulder. “The other two guys are secure,” I said. “I’ll check the generator.”

I jogged toward the tarp now hanging limply off to one side. Under it sat two work lights and the small, still-running generator they’d snagged from somewhere. Hooked up to it was the acetylene torch I’d seen Wes use many times. Confused, I went down on a knee and examined the wall of the barge. Chalk lines were drawn to make a large square on the wall, large enough to slide a crate through. “Son of a bitch,” I muttered and jumped to my feet.

I zigged and zagged around pallets and up the steps to the deck, where a small crowd had gathered near the open bay to barge Three. Tyler stood next to Clutch in his wheelchair.

Bill and Philip stood before them, while Nikki—held tight by Jase and Tack—was just coming to.

“—too busy doing whatever it was they were doing, they didn’t even see us coming,” I heard Jase tell Tyler and Clutch as I approached.

“They were going to cut a hole through the hull!” I said breathlessly. In spring, when the water levels would rise, the barge would likely flood. Until then, where the barge was currently located, it made a perfect exit point for dropping supplies onto a small boat hidden between the barges below. “These bastards were going to rob us.”

Frost shook his head slowly. “With all the grain dust around here, they would’ve set the whole barge on fire.”

Tyler cocked his head at the three prisoners. “I made a generous deal with Sorenson for your time and assistance. Tonight, you’ve broken a trust between our communities. We have zero tolerance for theft.”

“It’s not like you don’t have enough to share,” Nikki spat out.

Clutch guffawed. “Does it look like we’re any better off than you? We’ve had to completely uproot our home and are camping on a shipwreck.”

“That barge is full of food and ammunition. I’ve never seen so much in my life,” she retorted.

“Aside from sharing the location of this shelter, the
Lady Amore
crew hasn’t offered my people a single thing without demanding heavy payment in return,” Tyler said, his voice steady and calm but laced with anger.

“You don’t understand. We are struggling to get by,” Bill said. “Every day, we don’t know if we’re going to find more diesel or more food.”

“Grow a pair,” Clutch scolded. “We’re all fighting to survive here. The world’s a shithole. Deal with it.”

Nikki grunted and twisted out of her captors’ grasp and sprinted forward. Tack reached for her, but she jumped to the side. She must’ve twisted her ankle because she tumbled down and fell partway over the edge. Jase lunged after her, sliding on his belly to grab her, but she swung him away, loosening her hold, and she plummeted into the darkness below.

“Nikki!” Bill shouted.

Her scream was cut off by the sound of her body hitting the hard steel floor nearly twenty feet below. No one ran down to check on her. A drop from this height wasn’t just deadly, it would’ve been
messy
deadly.