100 Days in Deadland

by Rachel Aukes

  I pouted and then smirked. “Hurry up. I’m starving,” I ordered and headed into the living room, the only light from a small lantern.

  “Hey, Cash,” Jase called from the sofa.

  I nodded toward his left foot propped up on a chair, a thick wrapping around his ankle. “How’s the leg?”

  He rubbed his ankle. “It’s just a sprain. Clutch says the swelling will be down enough in another day or two that I can start putting some weight on it again.” He looked up. “Wow, you slept for like twenty-four hours straight.”

  “She needed it,” Clutch said before handing Jase and me each a bowl.

  I grabbed a seat next to Jase and dug into tonight’s specialty—a steaming mix of mystery meat, beans, and rice.

  Clutch returned with his own bowl and a warm beer.

  “So tell me about the school. Were there more zeds inside?” Jase asked.

  I paused before taking a bite. “Yeah.”

  “What was it like? I bet it was scary,” he continued.

  I kept chewing. The memories were bad enough for me. No one else needed to have them haunting their conscience.

  Clutch gave me a knowing look but said nothing. He finished his dinner and beer before I was even halfway through mine. He came to his feet. “I should get back outside.”

  I looked up. “Have you been covering both Jase’s and my shifts?”

  He didn’t reply, but the dark circles under his eyes told me enough. He looked beat, and I’d bet he hadn’t slept once in the past two days.

  “I’ll cover all of tonight,” I said. “You’re on bed rest, effective immediately.”

  He raised a brow. “You’re ordering me around now?”

  I smiled. Then nodded.

  A smirk tugged at his lips before he relented. “Wake me when you need a break. Don’t overdo it because, at sunrise, we need to start hitting the farms around here hard and fast. A vehicle drove by slow yesterday, which I’d bet are looters scanning this area.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. While I’d expected looters to sniff around this area sometime, I’d also hoped that they’d take their own sweet time before doing so. There were literally hundreds of miles of roads in the area. Why couldn’t they leave our four-mile stretch alone?

  “We need everything we can get and fast,” Clutch added. “And, I’m out of beer and almost out of whiskey.”

  I grimaced. “I can’t believe you’d drink warm beer.”

  “Warm beer is better than no beer.”

  “Point taken.” I shooed him away. “Now go. Hit the sack. You’re even grumpier when you’re tired.”

  He grunted and cracked his neck. “Be careful out there. I saw a group of zeds pass through the field yesterday. We’ve been lucky they’ve mostly avoided the woods so far.”

  “I wonder why they haven’t hit the woods more,” I said. After all, if I was a predator, they’d be a prime spot.

  “I’m thinking they prefer taking easier routes since they can’t get around as easily as us,” Clutch replied before disappearing up the stairs.

  So far, most zeds we’d seen had stuck to open flatlands like roads, yards, and fields. But a few had stumbled through the woods already, so they certainly didn’t have an allergy to shrubbery.

  I would’ve eaten faster, but my stomach was cramping from going nearly two days on only a protein bar, and I had to pace myself. At least I was wide awake. A near-coma was exactly what my body had needed. My muscles were amped. I wished it was morning already so that we could get started on looting the nearby farms. We’d been forced to put it off while we fortified the farm against looters. But we needed food and supplies. Even though winter was at least eight months away, we needed to hoard anything we could to prepare.

  Running into zeds or looters was a chance we had to take.

  “You were lucky you got back to the farm when you did,” Jase mumbled with a mouth full of food. “Clutch was packing up to head back into town for you. I wanted to come, but he said I had to stay back and hold down the fort.”

  “He was an idiot,” I said. When I’d seen Clutch loading weapons into the truck, I’d already figured he wasn’t heading out for another solo looting run. Going anywhere after dark was a suicide run, especially to a particular elementary school. Clutch could’ve gotten himself killed for the infinitesimal chance that I was still alive. It was a fucking miracle I’d gotten back to the house when I did. If he’d gone into town to look for me…if he hadn’t returned…

  With a shiver, I came to my feet and headed into the kitchen to clean up, all the time praying that those thoughts would never become reality.

  After I had my weapons strapped on, I stopped by the living room. “You need help getting upstairs?” I asked.

  Jase looked up from the book he’d been reading and shook his head. “Nah. I’ll hang down here for a bit. I’m tired of being in bed.” He thumped the book down. “I hate being cooped up like this.”

  “You’ll be back on your feet before you know it.” I gave him a quick wave and then headed outside. The sun had set, and I walked the perimeter around the house first. I’d always hated night-watch. Now, I had a whole new perspective. Even in the dark where zeds could lurk, I found the open space and fresh air a vast improvement over the school’s cramped air ducts.

  The walk down the long lane, with trees lining both sides, seemed easier tonight. Sure, a zed could shuffle out from the darkness at any moment, but the idea didn’t terrify me as much as it had less than two days ago.

  There was hardly a breeze, with every sound lingering in the air. My natural warning system of crickets chirping and frogs croaking was in full effect tonight. Insects and animals tended to go silent when zeds were around.

  At the end of the lane, the gate stood solidly fastened to the barbed wire and chain link fence doubled up on both sides. I double-checked the locks. It was the only opening in the fence lining Clutch’s property along the roadside. We’d reinforced the old fence with reams of chain link we’d taken from Jase’s farm, but we needed much more to make it strong enough to hold back zeds and to build a secondary fence around the house.

  A single human could climb easily over the fence or come through the woods, but with the deep ditches for Iowa winters, vehicles could enter the farm only through the gate. And, except for a couple trails, the woods surrounding the house served as a barrier against vehicles on three sides.

  But the woods wouldn’t hold back zeds, not for long. Clutch owned a few hundred acres and with a fence only along the roadside, the other three sides were wide-open fields. If the zeds passed through in large groups, we’d have some serious problems on our hands.

  I leaned on the metal gate, staring out at the star-studded sky. The stars were so much brighter here than in Des Moines…or at least when too many city lights had clouded the nights. I guess the stars would shine just as brightly everywhere now.

  A clear night and smooth air: it would’ve been a perfect night for a flight. God, I missed watching the sun set from the air.

  Even more, I missed my parents. They lived in a residential area not far from downtown. Mom had diabetes and needed daily insulin shots. If they were still in town, they’d be surrounded by hundreds of thousands of zeds by now. The first week, I mentioned the idea of heading into Des Moines for them, but Clutch had said it was too dangerous. After seeing Fox Hills, a town point five percent the size of the Des Moines area filled with zeds, I couldn’t argue his logic.

  My only regret was that I’d never even gotten the chance to say good-bye.

  A rhythmic scraping sound off to my left drew my attention. Careful to avoid Clutch’s booby traps, I made my way down the fence line until the zed came into sight. A green John Deere hat hung crookedly on its head. It had been an older man, with short white hair peeking out from under the hat. Its facial features were impossible to make out since decay had already started to set in. It dragged one leg, its boot grating the gravel with each step in a monotonous rhythm.

>   Step.

  Scrape.

  Step.

  Scrape.

  The signature sound of a zed.

  Once I made sure it didn’t have any friends, I stepped up to the fence. “Hey, fucktard.”

  The zed lifted its head, and sniffed in my direction. Even with yellowish pupils, it seemed to see fine because it moaned and shuffled its way straight toward me, stumbling while walking down the ditch. When it finally regained its footing and dragged itself up to the fence, I pulled out my machete.

  When it reached for me, I swung. Its head lobbed off and bounced on the ground. Its fingers had tangled in the fence, and I kicked the body, sending it backward into the ditch. Its hat had fallen off and landed near the head.

  I leaned over the fence and watched the head for a good ten minutes. The fucking thing just kept watching me, moving its mouth. I narrowed my eyes but couldn’t see any kind of humanity left in its gaze. Its eyes were truly devoid of anything.

  After scanning the area one more time, I climbed over the fence, looked at the head, and then brought the heel of my foot down. Its front teeth shattered. I stomped again and again until the skull crushed inward and the mouth finally stilled.

  I picked up the hat and tossed it onto the body. The smell would be worse tomorrow, when I could safely move the zed’s body farther away and cover it with dirt since we’d decided to quit burning the zeds we took down. It was too much work and the smoke could be seen and smelled from too far away.

  The crickets resumed their chirping. The stars still shone brightly, happy in their places so far away from a world consumed by death. And so I climbed back over the fence and continued my patrol.

  I rehydrated every hour. At four a.m., I headed into the house to check on the guys. Jase was sleeping soundly on the couch, a paperback copy of the SAS Survival Handbook sprawled open across his chest. I gently tugged it from under his hand, dog-eared the page, and set it on the floor. I tiptoed up the stairs and paused outside Clutch’s room. Muffled grunts came from the other side. Every night was the same. A couple hours after he fell asleep, the nightmares would come.

  Every other night, I listened, waiting for him to wake or fall back into a restful sleep.

  Tonight, I turned the knob and entered.

  Clutch lay in the middle of the bed, the sheets tossed around him. His skin gleamed with sweat. He grunted and jerked, lost within his dream.

  Careful to not disturb him, I sat down on the edge of the mattress. I reached out and laid my palm on his chest. His blade swung out.

  I sucked in a breath.

  He stopped just before slicing my throat ear to ear. Blinking, his eyes grew wide. “Jesus.” He fell back onto the mattress, pulling the knife away. “Fuck, Cash. I could’ve killed you.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “You were having a bad dream.” Again.

  He rolled onto his side, facing away from me. “It was nothing.”

  I slid up on the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard. “Tell me about it.”

  “Everything all right outside?” he asked instead.

  I sighed, disappointed. “Just one. No problems.”

  “What time is it?” he asked, sounding all too tired himself.

  “Four.”

  He sat up. “I can take over the patrol now.”

  “No,” I replied, not moving. “I’m wide awake.”

  He lay for a moment before sighing. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m staying until you fall asleep.”

  After several long seconds, he gave me his back. “Have it your way.”

  I rested my head against the headboard and sat there in silence, waiting. I remembered when I’d had bad dreams as a kid, my dad would stay with me until I fell asleep. His presence chased away the imaginary monsters. I had no idea if it would help Clutch. His monsters were bigger and badder, but I couldn’t let him go on every night facing them alone.

  After Clutch’s breathing became deep and regular, I crept from his room, grabbed another protein bar, and headed back outside. I had time to make another pass around the farm before the sky morphed from black to purple to orange. The world, for once, was at peace, and I savored watching the sun rise over the horizon.

  Clutch emerged from the house looking refreshed, and we were ready to hit the road before the sun was fully over the horizon, with dew still creating sparkles on the grass. Jase limped outside to see us off, leaning on a tall stick for support, and armed to the teeth.

  “I swear it, guys,” Jase said. “It doesn’t hurt bad. Take your time. I’ll cover the place today.”

  Clutch nodded at Jase’s stick. “Then why are you still using your crutch?”

  Jase pursed his lips.

  Clutch narrowed his eyes. “The only way you’re staying behind is if you can shimmy up on the roof. That way, you can scan while you start replacing the busted shingles.”

  Jase grinned. “Heck, yeah, I can do that.”

  “Be sure to bring plenty of ammo with you. Watching for looters and zeds is more important than patching the roof,” Clutch added. He started to turn, then paused. “Oh, and use a mallet. I don’t want you drawing every zed in a ten-mile radius.”

  Jase gave an enthusiastic nod. “You bet!” He grabbed his stick and hopped back into the house.

  I smirked. “You were planning on letting him stay behind all along.”

  He shrugged. “Ready?”

  I held out my hand. “After you.”

  With a fleeting smile, he headed toward the truck, and I followed.

  On our drive, we came across a group of zeds feasting on a cow while the rest of the herd huddled together in the far corner of the pasture. I gripped my rifle tighter.

  “We need to conserve our ammo,” Clutch said as though reading my thoughts. “They’re still a ways from the farm. Maybe they’ll keep moving on.”

  “We should at least cut the fence,” I said. “Give the rest of the cattle a chance.”

  He sighed before slowing to a stop. “We won’t be able to save all the livestock. The zeds will get to all of it eventually.”

  “I know, but at least we can help these few.”

  He jumped out and opened the back door and pulled out a bolt cutter. I got out and held my rifle at the ready. The fence was a simple barbed-wire, taking Clutch no more than four quick snips to open up a section for the cattle to escape should they find the gap. We were back on the road seconds later.

  We saw a couple dozen more zeds, mostly alone or in pairs, walking aimlessly on roads and through fields. As we entered an older residential part of Fox Hills—what Jase named Chow Town after the Home Depot experience—the area was eerily quiet. With no people or cars, nothing moved except for the occasional zed.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked softly.

  Clutch didn’t reply, just kept on driving.

  When he pulled in between two zeds meandering on the pavement and into the parking lot, I let out a sigh of relief. Mabel’s Garden Center was nothing near the size of Home Depot, meaning that there shouldn’t have been nearly as many people there when the outbreak hit.

  Hopefully.

  Still, my stomach was in knots.

  I kept my fingers crossed that the remaining zeds in the area had already moved on to find food elsewhere. Clutch backed the truck up to the front doors, so we could load and then get away quickly. We moved silently from the truck, knowing that even though the area seemed relatively clear, zeds lurked everywhere.

  He looked at me. “You can stay outside and stand guard if you want. I can cover the greenhouse.”

  I pulled out the small axe and shook my head. “No. Let’s stick to the plan.”

  We opened our doors at the same time. I scalped the first zed with a quick strike to its temple, and it fell lifelessly to the ground. I turned to see Clutch standing over a dead zed.

  We walked up to the front glass doors and looked inside. A cashier still hovered at his cash register. With an ax
e in one hand and the machete in another, Clutch rapped on the glass, and the zed turned around. Its empty gaze leveled hungrily on us, and it stumbled forward. Another one emerged from an aisle. It had been an older woman, still wearing gardening gloves, and she’d been badly chewed upon. A third, another employee, headed toward the doors.

  We waited until all three were at the doors, before counting down…three, two, one. I yanked the door open and jumped back. Clutch swung the axe and then swung the machete. One of the zeds refused to go down after a glancing blow, but my axe to its forehead finished the job.

  We dragged the bodies out of our way, and scanned the rest of the place, finding only one more zed trapped under a collapsed shelf.

  We wasted no time in grabbing all the heirloom seeds, fertilizer, and fencing we could find. If we could plant enough crops, we could get through the winter and have plenty of seeds for next year. We might even be able to take in another survivor or two, which we desperately needed. Defending an entire farm with only three people was exhausting work.

  We were heading back to the front doors to close up the greenhouse when we saw them. All four men wore military fatigues—much like ours—and had automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. With shaved heads, the men looked all the same: white, dirty, and mean.

  And they were currently in the back of Clutch’s truck, stealing our loot.

  Clutch threw me a quick glance, then whispered, “Stay inside, and be ready to run in case this goes to shit.”

  “Be careful.” I pulled the rifle off my shoulder and leaned against the door, aiming at the men busy moving things from our truck to theirs.

  Clutch fired a shot into the air, and they froze like skittish deer, one of them dropping his stolen cargo. They scrambled to raise their rifles as Clutch took a couple steps forward, keeping his Glock leveled on them.

  The cleanest looking of the men relaxed and grinned. “Clutch! It’s good to see a familiar face.”

  Clutch narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here, Sean?”