Deadland's Harvest (23 page)

His breathing became shallow until I could no longer feel it under my palm. His heartbeat disappeared seconds later. “He’s gone,” I said bluntly and without emotion, even though inside I seethed at the unfairness of it all. Jase tugged me back toward the main area of the boat, and Clutch stepped in. He swung his machete and then rolled Wes off the back of the deck. In the water, the zed tore into him like a piranha. My tears stopped, blocked by numbness, and I sat there, watching my friend be eaten by something that used to be human.

The Seventh Deadly Sin

We made it back to the
Aurora
just before sunset. Once we’d killed and disentangled the zed in the prop blades, the motor had started. It had run rough—some things were probably bent up inside—but it’d gotten us back to Camp Fox.

We’d returned to receive five minutes of fanfare, but then it was right back to work. Our problems were nowhere over yet. We found ourselves in an endless debate about what to do next. The herds had moved on, but a couple hundred zeds had stayed behind, watching us from the bridge that crossed the river. That number wasn’t even counting the hundred dead or nearly dead scattered on the ground that had been trampled by the herd. Those would be easier to clean up but still posed some risk to walking to the vehicles.

The next morning, Griz led another Pied Piper boat, but the zeds we’d dubbed the “bridge bastards” remained undeterred. Over the next few days, we tried scouting runs to the north using the river since we couldn’t get to our vehicles. Traveling under the bridge was dangerous, and we had to speed under each time. With no land vehicles parked to the north, we were limited in our search radius, and the riverfront had been picked clean by other boats on the river like the
Lady Amore.

We’d brought a pontoon full of scouts to the nearest river town to empty the grocery store, but bandits had beaten us to it. They must’ve been right behind the herds because every place we went showed signs of being recently picked clean. Every vehicle we came to that looked like it could run was missing its keys. Likely, the only reason bandits hadn’t come across our vehicles yet was the bridge bastards.

Without access to vehicles, we were running on borrowed time. We couldn’t get the fuel or food we needed without making land runs. Relocating from the
Aurora
was deemed not an option. Tyler had queried the residents, and no one had wanted to leave. They felt safe there and were tired of looking over their shoulders.

So another option presented itself, one the residents embraced and the scouts balked at. Of course, none of the residents planned to get their hands dirty. They planned on watching us from the safety of the barge.

“We’ll have to burn them at sunset, so the smoke won’t be seen,” Griz said before leaning back in his chair.

“It’s risky,” Clutch added. “We could set the whole countryside on fire.”

Tyler shook his head. “Not if we control it. We’ll set up boundaries.”

Clutch’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me. Exactly how are we going to dig up ground and not get torn to shreds?”

“Fine,” Tyler replied. “We’ll skip the boundaries. So what if the fire spreads? It won’t reach the
Aurora.
”

My eyes widened. “It could spread over miles and miles. We could destroy everything around here. Any food, animals, everything.”

“Why does it matter?” Kurt asked. “There’s no one left out there but bandits, anyway. A fire would destroy a lot of the rotting corpses and clean up the countryside.”

Clutch clenched his fist but stopped himself before he hit the table. “Sure, the fire will take out all the zeds in this area, but it could also destroy any plants and wildlife. We’d be dealing with the same issue we have now, and that’s no food.”

“We still have the grain,” Tyler said. “Deer are faster than zeds and can run. We’ll hunt them later.”

“It sounds too dangerous,” I said.

“It’s safer than using up our ammo on them,” Kurt said.

“I disagree. We can’t waste our gasoline,” I said. “I think it’s safer to shoot them, but I’d prefer to find a third option.”

“Gas will start going bad before we use it all up,” Kurt replied.

Griz stood and poured himself a cup of tea. “The people need to be free from zeds. Being watched by zeds day in and day out wears on morale. They need the break. Even if it’s only for a few months.”

“And when spring comes?” Clutch countered.

“We have no idea if they’ll even come back,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation. “Every month, they rot away more and more. They can’t last much longer before their bodies completely fall apart.”

“We’ve been saying that for months now,” Clutch said.

Jase finally spoke up. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re all too desperate to live without zeds. Going after a couple hundred zeds is really dangerous. We’ve never done anything like this before. We’d have to burn them to the point that they can’t physically move, or else they could still survive.”

“Then we need to make sure they are thoroughly burned because not going after them is even more dangerous,” Tyler said. “Every day we can’t get to our vehicles and start land searches, the bandits clear out more of the surrounding area.”

“Well, if this boat is the new permanent location for Camp Fox, we need to make sure it’s not going to float away in the spring floods. The residents need to kick up their efforts at turning this from a temporary base to a home,” Griz said. “We’ll have to focus completely on building up our food reserves. Vicki thought we should build a greenhouse so we can grow vegetables this winter.”

The banter was giving me a headache, and I rubbed my eyes. We could argue these points until the zeds died off, even if it was twenty years from now. None of these discussions would keep us from starving. “Even if we find enough food to last the winter, we’ll need acres and acres of land in the spring to feed everyone. How can we do that if everyone stays on the
Aurora
? Who’s going to farm it?”

“Staying on the
Aurora
long term is too risky,” Clutch said. “Griz makes a good point about the spring floods. How the hell are we going to anchor the towboat and barges here so we don’t get washed away or broken apart in the spring?”

Tyler came to his feet and leaned forward on the table. “We’ve been rehashing this for too long. This isn’t a democracy, and the matter is no longer up for discussion. As commanding officer of Camp Fox, the
Aurora
is hereby renamed Camp Fox, so deal with it. Since it’s no longer our temporary location, we need to strengthen the infrastructure to support us long term.” He pointed at the window. “We’re burning those bridge bastards outside tomorrow and converting this camp into a sustainable fortress. Anyone who isn’t one hundred percent on board with me as CO—commanding officer—is free to leave right now.”

There were no retorts, and I assumed everyone had been stunned into silence like I had been. I stared at Clutch, who was looking right back at me. I was sure I looked as frustrated as he did. In the corner, Jase sat with his head in his hands. I didn’t know the answer, but this plan had too much complexity and too many risks to feel right.

“You heard the captain,” Clutch said, the sergeant tone coming through his voice. “We’ve got a bonfire to plan and a base to protect.”

* * *

At fifteen hundred hours, twelve scouts in full gear loaded onto two pontoons and headed around the southern edge of the island to stay hidden from the bridge bastards. Zeds lingered on the small island, and we skirted around them rather than kill them, to not draw the bridge bastards’ attention. As we broke away from the island, I thought about the plan. It was a simple plan that seemed like a wasteful use of precious fuel and ammo while putting eight people at risk. The plan? Pen the zeds in on the bridge, and burn them. Shoot any outliers.

My pontoon, led by Clutch, was tasked with sneaking onto the eastern shore, where there were more trees to hide our approach. Trees could also hide zeds, but they tended to shuffle their feet, while we could move nearly silently. We were counting on the zeds’ tendency to herd together and hoping that one of those herds weren’t lingering in the woods. Our pontoon’s job was to lay gasoline on the east end of the bridge while the west team distracted the zeds.

The other pontoon, led by Griz, was to distract the zeds’ attention from our movements until we were in position. Then, they’d land on the western shore, so we could burn the bridge bastards from both sides.

Clutch, the eternal pessimist, wasn’t so confident things would go that easily. He’d voiced concern about the fire weakening the bridge, which could mean we’d have to find another bridge to cross the river. He’d talked about how few explosives were needed in Afghanistan to bring down a bridge if they were placed right. He’d said that a hot enough fire at the wrong points of the bridge might do the same. Only problem was that we didn’t have a single bridge expert or engineer among us. So, the general consensus was that a gasoline-fed fire wouldn’t burn long enough to weaken the steel and concrete structure.

Tyler had made it clear that he was the boss, and if we didn’t like it, we could leave. Honestly, we were tempted. Clutch, Jase, and I had even talked about it last night. But Jase was adamant that Camp Fox needed us far more than we needed them. It was our duty to help.

Everyone craved to be free from zeds. Hell, I wanted it, too, but they were letting hope overshadow their logic. If we took out these zeds, there’d be more. There were
always
more.

When Clutch and Griz each gave their
ready
signal, our pontoon went east while the other went west. The island sat on the eastern half of the river, so our trip to the shore was brief. The pontoon hit the riverbank, and we all lurched forward. After regaining my balance, I looked over the side to make sure no zeds had washed ashore with us. Jase was the first to jump out, and I followed. Landing at the dock would’ve been far easier, but the bridge bastards would’ve seen us. Instead, Clutch picked out a heavily wooded area on the eastern bank a quarter-mile south of the dock.

“Let’s move out,” Clutch said in a hoarse whisper as he joined my side. “We need to be ready to go the moment the West team engages.”

Four men on my pontoon each carried a five-gallon gas jug. Both Jase and I had our hands free since we were on point to take out zeds in the woods. One on point was probably good enough, but Clutch always believed in being doubly prepared.

I had my rifle slung over my shoulder, and my machete held at the ready. Silence was crucial until we were in position. Jase and I led the four others through the woods, each of us with two men following behind.

The leaves had turned colors, and many had already fallen, allowing sunlight to reveal a zed lying next to a log. The zed couldn’t walk and was in pretty rough shape. Jase finished it off with two swings so that it couldn’t make noise and alert others to our presence.

We moved slowly, being extra careful to not slosh the gasoline. We came across a second zed, but it had been torn apart, likely by wolves or wild dogs. When the trees opened onto the road, we saw the devastation Camp Fox’s vehicles had taken while parked on the eastern bank. All had smears of zed sludge. A couple had been rolled over. A HEMTT sat askew in the road. Trampled zeds dotted the road.

For our pontoon, Kurt was going to drive the fuel truck while Joe, another one of Tyler’s trusted guardsmen, shot gasoline onto the zeds to make sure they’d burn to death. The five-gallon jugs were to set up a wall of fire at the end of each bridge to help hold the zeds in. As the fastest runner, Jase’s job was to light the fire. I had my usual job as sweeper to shoot any zeds that got too close to the scouts managing the fire.

The bridge was big. It spanned the width of the Mississippi, which made penning the zeds easier. Except that herding zeds was a lot like herding cats—a whole lot easier said than done.

Careful to avoid the zeds on the ground with some life still left in them, we looked under the vehicles to make sure no other zeds were waiting to jump out at us. We squeezed between the Humvees and HEMTTs and made our way toward the bridge. We paused at the last fuel truck we came to. Kurt set down his gas can, and opened the door. A second later, he stood back and gave a thumbs-up.

We stood behind the vehicle closest to the bridge, a big HEMTT, which would be our RP (rendezvous point). Clutch signaled to me, and I climbed up the back of the HEMTT. Jase came up right behind me. Until Jase started the fire, Clutch wanted him with me to provide suppression fire, but I knew it was also to keep us both safe.

Once I had my rifle set up, I noticed the pontoon in the middle of the river. The West team was in play. I motioned to Clutch, and he nodded. He signaled to our team and the four men with gas cans—Clutch, Kurt, Bryce, and Joe—jogged toward the bridge, though Clutch’s jog was more of a walk. The bridge bastards were completely entranced by the West team, who was slowly making its way to the western riverfront. The zeds followed, mimicking the direction of the pontoon and moving onto the western half of the bridge.

The East team poured gasoline in a thick line across the eastern opening of the bridge.

So far, so good.

Clutch signaled to Kurt and Joe, and they took off at a sprint for the gas tanker truck. Clutch stood there, in plain sight, at the end of the bridge in the middle of the road. Bryce stood off to the side, more skittish.

Once Kurt and Joe both gave a thumbs-up that they were in position, Clutch waved his arms toward Griz’s team’s pontoon. They waved back, and went under the bridge to where they’d go ashore on the western bank.

“Hey!” Clutch shouted.

Several zeds toward the back of the group turned.