Deadland Rising (Deadland Saga) (S) (18 page)

“I tell you what,” Clutch said. “Since you’re from Marshall, we’ll leave you two trucks and take two trucks with us. But you have to help us clear these nails.”

“That is an acceptable deal. However, you must secure your weapons. I give you my word my people will do the same. My people will not raise a hand against you unless you threaten one of ours.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Clutch said. “But, you try to hurt one of mine, and you won’t like what happens.”

The professor smiled. “Trust is earned in small steps.”

Clutch had Jase cut the engine, and we left our larger weapons in the back of the truck. We still wore our side arms, knives, and whatnot. Clutch also hadn’t mentioned that we each carried a radio and would call for backup the second shit went south.

The SMSU kid—his name was Nathan—found a couple brooms inside the church. This Marshall group was smaller than I’d expected. Where Manny had a dozen with him, I’d only seen four so far with this group. Aside from Professor Caler, the other three were college students. Peter had no interest in meeting any of us. He was thoroughly closed off from the rest of the world and had his nose buried in a book the entire time we worked at brushing nails away. Joachim, on the other hand, didn’t trust us. He kept a safe distance and watched us from the corner of his eye. With his skepticism, he was probably the best equipped of his group to survive in this world.

The professor talked the most of any of them, though when I got closer to him, I noticed how frail he was.

“Cancer,” he said when he caught my expression. “I gave cigarettes too many years of my life, and now they’re demanding more.”

After we cleared a path for the trucks, Nathan took the brooms back.

I caught Clutch and Griz looking out at the sky. I strolled over to them. “It’s getting late,” I said.

“We’re going to have to hunker down soon or else we’ll get caught in the dark,” Griz said.

Clutch glanced over at the church, his lips tight.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” the professor said, walking over. “You need a shelter for the night, don’t you?”

“We should hit the road,” Clutch said. “We’ll find a place.”

“The church offers plenty of room. We’ve already set up our camp in the undercroft. You can have the nave.”

“The what?” I asked.

“We’re in the basement,” he replied, not sounding like I was an idiot for asking what was probably obvious to Catholics far more devout than I ever was. “You can stay where mass would’ve taken place, if you so choose. The pews should make adequate beds. I saw two other vehicles earlier. I imagine they would also stay.”

“Give us a minute, and I’ll check with them,” Clutch said and turned away.

“Certainly,” he said and headed into the church.

Clutch looked at me. “Where’s that place you three stayed at on your way to find us?”

I thought for a moment. “A little over an hour from here, I think.”

“That would put us there after sunset,” Griz said.

“There was another group less than two miles up the road,” I said. “I suspect they knew we were in the area, but we didn’t stop to chat.”

Clutch frowned. “I don’t like going into a situation with an unknown quantity. Even though we don’t know this group much better, my gut says we can trust this guy. What do you think?”

“I’m with you,” Griz said. “If they were bandits, one of them would’ve given off a suspicious vibe by now.”

“I agree,” I said. “I get why they took our trucks. It’s what most would do. I think they’re just trying to get by.”

Clutch nodded. “We’ll stay the night. Let the others know. We’ll run a double security detail to play it safe.”

One hour later, we had camp set up within the church and had Jack slouched in a pew. He’d lost his color and was sweating profusely, and we all worried the infection he’d picked up from the dog bite was rabies. When the professor found out, he frowned. “I wish we could help, but we have no antibiotics here. There’s a veterinary clinic a couple miles to the north, but we’ve already been through it. There’s nothing but empty shelves and dead animals inside.”

“Hang in there,” Clutch said after checking Jack’s bandage. “We’ll get you back to the clinic tomorrow, and they’ll get you fixed up.”

Jack winced and leaned back. As he rested, we moved the rest of our weapons inside, despite the professor’s complaints. He could complain all he wanted. It was one item which Clutch—or any of us—refused to negotiate.

Our trucks, including the two we’d reclaimed, were backed up to the church in case we needed to make a hasty exit. The only thing that stood between the doors and the trucks were two large concrete statues of lions, and they weren’t going anywhere.

The Marshall survivors totaled seven—eight if you counted their small dog named Boy—but we’d only met six of them so far. Bonnie and Hugh had come upstairs only because Professor Caler had asked them to introduce themselves before they quickly returned to the basement. They were skittish and tended to stay to themselves. I was glad they didn’t stick around. The only member of their group we hadn’t met yet was “taking some much-needed rest after a long night.”

We’d carried in two boxes of food to have a bona fide Thanksgiving dinner, if canned meat and gravy, instant potatoes, and canned cranberry sauce counted. We set out the food across the altar. I’m sure the professor saw some kind of symbolism in it, but it was really the easiest place to put everything.

Boy, the black-and-white dog that had been adopted by the Marshall survivors, anxiously sat as the lone guard of the feast. I think if he could’ve reached the altar, he would’ve pulled everything down. But he was a small mutt, and despite trying over and over again, he couldn’t jump high enough.

While the food heated on small makeshift stoves, Tom walked around the pews, collecting bibles.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “We don’t have room for all those books.”

“They’re not books, they’re bibles,” he replied. “And we don’t have enough at New Eden.”

I didn’t bother arguing with him. I figured he’d find a way to fit boxes of bibles onto the trucks regardless of what I said. So I returned to the altar.

My stomach growled at the smell of warm food, and I inhaled the aroma. When I bent down to steal a spoonful of gravy, Jase slapped my hand. “You have to wait, just like everyone else.”

I scowled at him before turning away. “I saw you sneaking a bite,” I mumbled.

“I was tasting it for flavor. A chef’s prerogative.”

Professor Caler was examining the spread on the altar. “We’re missing wine. I’ll see what I can find in the priest’s quarters.”

“I’ll help out,” I offered.

The professor snapped around faster than I’d ever seen him move. “No, no, that’s quite all right. I can manage.”

I frowned at his sudden stubbornness and glanced to Jase.

He frowned before watching Caler disappear around the corner. “He must be hiding the good stuff back there.”

“Or something,” I murmured.

He stood and lifted the steaming pot with both hands. “The feast is ready.”

“Woot!” I cheered and cleared a spot for the stew of meat, gravy, and vegetables Jase had mixed together from a couple dozen cans. That stuff alone was better than we had, but the coup de grace was the
spice
. They’d found boxes of salt, pepper, and seasonings at the store. I couldn’t remember the last time my food had been seasoned with anything except some fresh-ground herb we’d found. I was more excited for this Thanksgiving feast than any other Thanksgiving in my life.

The professor carried food to the three members of his team staying in the basement. Everyone else sat around the altar, on the steps, or on pews, and ate. It felt like a real Thanksgiving, with old friends and new acquaintances sitting together around a feast.

All the church’s candles were lit. We didn’t bother covering the windows, since it was cold enough the zeds were frozen, and the church was far enough off the main roads that no one would see the light unless they were going directly by the church.

The seasoning was strong, nearly overpowering the stew, but I still went back for seconds—and thirds. The church wine the professor brought out was the worst I’d ever had, but I still had another glass.

Clutch took tiny sips from his bottle of whiskey, and I knew the only reason he was showing moderation was to stay sober. Once we were back within the safety of New Eden’s fences, I knew that bottle would empty fast.

“Time for a toast,” the professor said, and we all raised our glasses. “Here’s to new friends and new starts.”

“Cheers,” we all said.

As everyone ate, drank, and conversed, the professor looked at Clutch. “I have a doctorate in human psychology. I consider myself a respectable judge of character. And, I believe you and your group are decent people.”

Clutch nodded while he chewed.

The professor continued. “Our group used to be four times this size. We ran into trouble a little over two weeks ago. Some men who called themselves the Black Sheep demanded a toll for traveling through their territory. What they demanded, we couldn’t pay. They attacked, and we defended ourselves. We fended them off, but our losses were terrible. You’ve met Bonnie and Hugh. They both lost their spouses, and struggle to get by. We wandered for two days until we reached Omaha. The sun caught off the stained glass windows of this church just right to catch my eye. It was a rainbow drawing us in. And, we’ve been here ever since.”

“You were lucky,” Clutch said. “We avoid churches. Just about every single one we found was full of zeds.”

The professor chuckled. “Everywhere is full. Even hell is full.”

Clutch raised a brow. “Hell is full?”

“A young girl told me that once.” He motioned around him. “She said, ‘Hell has to be full. That’s why all the dead are now walking the earth.’”

Clutch shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as anything out there.”

“So where are you going after this?” I asked.

The professor thought for a moment. “I’d like to say we’ll continue our search for Marshall survivors, but I’ve seen the hopelessness in my friends’ eyes. I’m afraid if we continue our search, it’ll kill them. All they’ve seen is death. It’s all they know now. Until we met your group today, I must admit, I was beginning to feel the same despair.”

Clutch chuckled. “Was that before or after you ran off with our supplies?”

The professor smiled. “Would you have shared if we’d stopped and introduced ourselves?”

Clutch shrugged and then bore a smirk. “Maybe. If you’d asked nicely.”

“Well, forgive me for my false assumption. I had mistakenly believed you would kill my people rather than share.”

“That’s generally a safe assumption nowadays,” Clutch said.

“However, we did leave a full-sized tractor-trailer there for you. We already had your trucks. You couldn’t give pursuit. We could’ve taken our truck, but we chose to leave it so you wouldn’t be stranded.”

“That didn’t work out as planned. Since you blocked the doors with the trailer, I’m not sure how you expected us to get to the cab in time. And, with how quickly it ran out of gas, it had under a quarter tank of diesel in it when you left it running.”

“We were perhaps a touch overly cautious in that we didn’t want you to chase us,” he said. “We only wanted to delay you until we could make it to the church. We had no intention of stranding you at the store. After all, you make an intimidating lot in your brown and green clothes and carrying swords and machetes.”

The professor watched me for a moment. “You don’t have the look of a soldier, yet you dress like one.”

I shrugged and looked down at the hunting clothes I’d found at the sporting goods store in Des Moines. “They have lots of pockets and they hold up.”

“I, on the other hand, am having a harder time each day ‘holding up.’” He came to his feet. “On that note, I’ll excuse myself for the night. We’ve had no problems since we’ve been here, so you can rest soundly.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Clutch waved as he walked away. The remaining Marshall survivors followed soon after.

“So…” Jase drawled out. “Are we taking them back to New Eden with us?”

Clutch spoke. “We haven’t mentioned it to them, but so far I don’t see why not.”

“I’m cool with it,” I said. “But, I want to find out why the prof is so protective of the priest’s quarters.”

“What do you mean?” Clutch asked quickly.

“He made it clear he didn’t want anybody in the priest’s crib,” Jase said. “I figured he’s keeping the good booze back there.”

Clutch motioned to Griz, who nodded and came right over.

“You have your weapon ready?” Clutch asked.

Griz patted his back, where his machete was strapped. “Always. We got a date?”

“We need to find out why Caler doesn’t want us anywhere outside this area.”

Clutch and Griz quickly filled in the rest of the squadron, leaving them behind but ready to jump into action in an instant. I grabbed a candle. The four of us crossed the altar and walked past the confessional booths and down the narrow hallway lined with robes. As the hallway continued, we passed doors, each with a sign conveying what lay behind. When we reached the sign that read
Private Residence
, we stopped.

Clutch eyed each of us with his “you ready” look. I nodded.

He opened the door. The room to the left was dark, but a candle glow filtered out from the room on the right. Clutch and Griz took lead, and Jase and I followed. I held the candle in my left hand and my machete in my right.

Clutch stopped cold inside the doorway. He glanced to me and back to the room, his sword frozen in the air. I entered and became a statue.

In the bed lay two kids—their faces all too familiar to Clutch and me. We’d seen them once before. Many months ago. I’d never forget their faces, and neither would Clutch.

“What the hell?” Griz whispered.

“It’s impossible,” I said breathlessly, and I felt Jase hold me up.

The kids opened their jaundiced eyes and sat up, removing any doubt that these were the kids…the two zed kids from the convenience store.