“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.
“I’m going to get this ready while you guys finish loading up whatever fits.”
All three went to work at unloading the car into the plane. It didn’t take long. The baggage compartment in the 172 was small, and with four of us, we were grossly overloaded. I started the engine, and it ran smoothly. “Thank God,” I murmured as I ran through the checklist.
The guys climbed inside, and Tyler took the front seat next to me. “Better hurry because we’re going to have a party in another couple minutes.”
&n
bsp; I taxied out without checking all the instruments. “Oh shit.” My heart beat faster, and my eyes widened. “Zeds are on the runway already.”
A few shapes peppered the middle of the runaway, but many more were headed straight for the pavement from the trees.
“There are too many for us,” Tyler said, his brows furrowed. “Can you take off or do we need to drive?”
I looked at the airport for a long second, knowing this was one of those life-or-death decisions. “I’ll take off on the taxiway.” I did a quick pre-takeoff check and then throttled full forward on the taxiway. It was narrow, less than half the width of the runway, but I’d gotten used to landing on highways. At the halfway mark, the 172 was still grounded. At the two-thirds mark, I could almost get her wheels up.
“Uh, Cash?” Tyler asked, gripping the dash.
My heart raced, and my head pounded. Visions of last night’s dream flashed through my mind. Maybe the plane was too overloaded. Come on, come on. After the three-quarter mark, I was able to force the wheels off the ground in time to miss the lights at the end of the taxiway as the plane struggled to climb. If there’d been trees, we would’ve flown straight into them. Slowly, the plane climbed out above the field and into the sky.
“Well, that was exciting,” Jase called out from the backseat since we had no headsets.
Once we reached a safe altitude, I let my muscles relax and I leaned back in the seat. I handed Tyler the map. I didn’t look back at the airport. I already knew a couple dozen zeds hungrily waited down there if we’d had a botched takeoff.
“Looks like you’ll want a heading of one-nine-five, give or take,” Tyler said, holding the map open.
I nodded and set us on course. I glanced back to find Jase looking out the window, jotting notes down for any roadblocks or zeds. Griz was already sound asleep, his head leaning against the window and his mouth open.
During the flight, Tyler, Jase, and I talked about how in the world we’d safely relocate Camp Fox across two hundred miles of zed-infested country. We’d need a crew to prep the shipwreck before the rest of Camp Fox arrived. All this before the herds passed through within a couple days. For the plan to work, everything had to go absolutely perfectly. Nothing could go wrong.
I didn’t think we’d have a chance in hell to make it work until after I landed and taxied over to where I used to park the old 172. Standing there, with no wheelchair in sight, was Clutch.
Hope blossomed. We just might have a chance after all.
PRIDE
The First Deadly Sin
Chapter X
Thirty-one hours later
Wes and I pulled to a stop behind the first Humvee at the bridge crossing over the Mississippi and into Illinois. Even with having all the roadblocks mapped and only two small herds to detour around, it had taken over eight hours to make the journey. I would’ve preferred to have flown over, but our scouting party and supplies would have required a plane three times the size of the 172. So, we’d loaded up two Humvees and drove the route mapped for convoy to make sure it would work.
Tyler, Griz, Jase, and Nate climbed out of the Humvee in front of us while Tack stayed on the back of their Humvee to man the .30 cal machine gun. He scanned the area while Tyler and Griz talked between themselves by the river.
When Wes reached for the door, I stopped him. “We’re not supposed to leave the truck unless Tyler gives us the all-clear.”
Tyler’s Humvee was the lead vehicle, while ours was jam-packed with tools, food, and weapons. It was our job to secure the boat, and we wanted to make sure we had all the gear we needed to get the job done.
Tyler had to lead this mission since he needed to be here to meet with Sorenson’s people. Clutch had wanted to lead this mission, but his legs weren’t strong enough to handle the stairs on the boat. He could stand now—thanks to the swelling finally going down enough and with the help of crutches. I loved seeing signs of the old Clutch return in his face. The glint had come back to his eyes, and his expressions were more alert now. It was like he’d been half asleep and was coming back to wakefulness. Walking was still beyond his reach, but it wouldn’t be much longer with how hard he was working at it. He had a renewed energy in everything now.
I think even Tyler wished we had Clutch’s experience on this trip. Clutch had been in plenty of situations in the Army before the outbreak, while Tyler, Griz, Nate, and Tack were much younger. Aside from Griz, who had also been in the Army, none of the other soldiers at Camp Fox had seen action before the outbreak.
Even from a wheelchair, Clutch was Camp Fox’s strongest leader. Tyler was trusted and loved, but Clutch was obeyed. No one argued with him, which made it all the more important he stayed behind to lead the convoy. If anyone could relocate sixty people and all our livestock across a zed-infested state smoothly, it was Clutch.
He wasn’t thrilled that Tyler had asked Jase and me to come on the mission. Tyler had said he needed Jase’s limber speed for scouting the barges, and my small size for squeezing through tight spaces, but I knew it was really Tyler’s way of showing Clutch who was in charge…and to piss him off even more.
That Clutch had freaked out when we’d arrived home a day late with my face cut up was an understatement. He was downright livid at Tyler, even though it wasn’t Tyler’s fault. He’d blamed Tyler since he was in charge when my clumsy accident happened. Clutch had jumped from his wheelchair faster than anyone expected and tackled Tyler. Jase, Griz, and Tack had to tear them apart to prevent a fight.
Yeah, this mission had come at the right time. The pair needed space, and a couple hundred miles was just about perfect. Except that Clutch wanted Jase and me with him and not with Tyler right now. But even he knew that the safety of Camp Fox came first, and if Tyler said he needed us, then we had to trust his judgment. If something happened to either of us on this trip, I would dread being in Tyler’s shoes.
This morning, even though he was still pissed about having to be separated again so soon, Clutch had acknowledged that he trusted Tack and Griz second only to himself when it came to looking out for Jase and me. It was the first time he openly admitted that someone besides the three of us had earned his faith.
Wes nudged me. “Tyler’s heading this way.”
I turned to see Tyler, Griz, Nate, and Jase walking toward our Humvee. I rolled down my window. The breeze hurt my stitches, and I tried not to wince. As Tyler approached, Tack came jogging over.
“I see only one pontoon tied to the ramp right now,” Tyler said. “It’s enough for us, but we’ll need to round up more transports to handle all the back-and-forths to the Aurora when the convoy arrives. I wish the towboat and barges were better camouflaged, but the towboat was clearly shipwrecked. No one should suspect anyone’s there if we’re careful, and since no zeds can walk there, it should be a great spot to hide out.”
“We’ll make it work,” Jase said.
I looked out over the Mississippi at the small cropping of trees and a white towboat and eight long rectangular steel barges over twice the tiny island’s size still attached to the boat, with two more barges that looked like they would break off at any moment. Four of the barges were plowed up on its bank, nearly out of the water. A couple more barges floated at an odd angle in the river, as though they were about to break away from the rest. “That’s a lot of boat.”
Griz frowned. “Yeah, we could really use more troops to clean it out. You think we should still go for it, Maz?” Griz watched Tyler for a moment, then Tack and Nate. He didn’t look at Jase, Wes, or me. Something about the military guys. They always looked to each other for decisions, never to civvies. It didn’t matter that I’d seen every bit as much action as most of those guys had. On the flip side, I could see where they were coming from. None of them meant any harm; they truly thought they were doing the right thing by protecting us.
Still, it pissed me off, but I was done grumbling about it because it did no good. They saw Jase as a kid—I was glad they saw it, too—and they
saw me as a woman. Since men outnumbered women over four to one at the park, every woman was treated like delicate china. I was lucky that I had both Clutch and Jase on my side, or else I would’ve been relegated to only fly scouting runs a long time ago.
“Well, Sorenson seemed to think the barges should be clear since there was no reason for anyone to be on those. We should only have to clear out the towboat. We’ve got Camp Fox counting on us,” Tyler said, then shrugged. “I don’t see an option. We go in.”
I squinted at the boat a couple thousand meters away. “Sorensen seemed to think there wouldn’t be much of a crew on that small of boat. It should be an easy in-and-out.”
“Except it’s going to be dark in just a couple hours,” Jase said.
“We’ll park over there. On the slope under the bridge on the east bank looks like a good spot,” Tyler said, pointing to an outcropping not far from the pontoon.
“That’s got to be a thirty-degree incline,” I said.
Griz chuckled. “It won’t be a problem. Humvees can handle over forty degrees.”
“Let’s get them down there,” Tyler said. “Time’s a wasting.”
The guys spent the next half hour hiding the Humvees and loading all the ammo, food and tools they could onto the pontoon. It sat low in the water, and there was still more in the Humvees. While they all worked as quickly as they could, I stood behind the .30 cal and scanned for danger, even though the area was rural and no zeds showed up. The only benefit of having less upper body strength was that I always got the easier job of keeping them covered while they hauled supplies. They could carry more and faster than I could.
Tyler wiped his hands on his cargos. “That’s all that we can get on this trip.” He waved to me, and I jumped down and met up with the men by the pontoon.
“I’ll get the ropes,” Jase said as he started to untie the yellow ropes that held the boat to the ramp.
Tyler looked back at the motor and climbed into the captain’s seat. “It’s been awhile since I’ve driven one of these things.”
Deadland 02: Harvest Page 11