Deadland 02: Harvest

by Aukes, Rachel

  “We still have to be careful. Yesterday, Jase saw a couple small groups still in the area. There.” He pointed. “And there.”

  I squinted and couldn’t find them, but my vision had never been as good as Jase’s. “As long as they’re not fixated on the Aurora, they shouldn’t draw any interest of the herds.” I stood up and grabbed my coffee.

  He took in a deep breath. “Kurt returned from another Jet Ski trip to the north. He thinks the first herd will pass through this area by tomorrow. Tyler wants all boats and a couple Humvees out today to search the area for anything we can possibly grab before the herds arrive. Fuel, food, chickens, anything. We don’t know how long we’ll have to lay low once they arrive.”

  I clapped my hands. “I’m ready.”

  He smirked. “Feeling cooped up?”

  “Feeling very cooped up.”

  “Sounds like exactly how I felt being stuck in that wheelchair.”

  “You were a bit grumpy,” I teased.

  “Speaking of grumpy, how about you go wake up Jase so we can head out.”

  I lowered my arms from my stretch. “Want to play rock-paper-scissors for the honor?” By honor, I meant who had to deal with getting a pillow—or worse—thrown at them by a teenager whose one last pleasure he’d held onto from pre-outbreak days was sleeping in late whenever he could. Today was supposed to be one of those days.

  Clutch shook his head. “Hell, no. I had to wake him last time. It’s your turn.”

  I scrunched my nose at him and then tossed him my empty cup. “Fine. Wish me luck.”

  As I trudged toward to the galley, I could hear Clutch chuckling.

  When I reached Jase’s bed, I grabbed the spear lying next to his cot and took a step back. With four feet of space between us, I gently poked at the pile of blankets with the flat end of the spear. A grumble emerged, and the blankets wiggled. “Go away.”

  “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” I said softly in a sing-song voice.

  I grinned when he grumbled louder and rolled over, taking the blankets with him and leaving his back exposed. “Lemme sleep.”

  Too easy, I thought to myself. I ran the dull wood bottom of the spear up his spine, and the insanely ticklish teenager jerked up.

  He whipped around and went to throw his pillow but held onto it, which was a good thing. It wouldn’t have taken much to land me flat on my ass.

  I laughed.

  He scowled and hugged his pillow. “Not cool.”

  I laughed. “Rise and shine. We’ve got a run this morning.”

  I think he might have actually growled at me, but he did kick his blankets away and sat up. I handed him his spear and he plucked it back.

  “I’ll see you in the galley,” I said, still chuckling, and left him rubbing his eyes.

  An hour later, after Jase had time to ingest caffeine and some breakfast, he was back to his usual self. The boats had already left on their scouting runs. We were one of the two teams assigned to make a land run. Jase, Clutch, and I took one Humvee, while Griz and two other scouts took another.

  Our Humvee was the easiest to spot out of all Camp Fox’s Humvees. It had a coyote head painted on the hood and front doors, thanks to Jase. He’d dubbed our team the Charlie Coyotes and the name had stuck. Luckily, only one zed still lingered around our vehicles this morning. Jase easily dispatched it, and we headed out for a day of adventure.

  The plan was that we’d drive east and Griz’s team would drive west, since it was far too risky to drive north. We’d check out rural gas stations and farms and meet at the boat ramp in four hours. If any of us succeeded in finding fuel, the six of us would bring a fuel truck with a Humvee lead vehicle back to the places to fill up. Getting the diesel to the ramp was the easy part. Getting the diesel onto the Aurora would be a bit more complicated since we had to move it in fifty-five-gallon drums on pontoons.

  Jase took his favorite position manning the .30 cal on the back of Charlie team’s Humvee. He had a warm leather coat on to fight the late fall chill in the air. I drove. Clutch was by far a better driver, but since his legs were still healing, he rode shotgun.

  I drove slowly, even though we had a lot of ground to cover. We had to be careful to avoid the river towns that dotted the river. The good thing with towns every ten miles or so was that zeds tended to group together and hover around populated areas rather than in the fields and around farms. The bad thing was that we couldn’t find a single rural gas station clear of zeds. “I guess the fuel will have to wait until after the migration,” I said.

  “Let’s see what else we can find,” Clutch said. “Try that gravel road.”

  We searched farms for the next three hours, finding only a few dozen cans of food, which we tossed into duffle bags. As I turned off a gravel road and onto the winding river highway, I hit the brakes. “Shit. You see that?”

  “They’re not biters,” Jase called out from above. “What’s the plan?”

  A group of ragged survivors were standing near a vehicle in the intersection. The van hadn’t been there when we’d passed through the area a few hours earlier. Steam pouring out of the open hood gave hint at why it was there now.

  It was a group of mostly women, and they looked in rough shape. A man stood by the hood. A hunched-back elderly woman stood in the middle of the road, staring off into the distance. A teenaged girl stood near a little girl playing hopscotch. A pale woman lay against the van. They had crowbars and spears, but no one seemed to be carrying rifles or pistols. Still, it could have been a setup.

  Another man walked around from the other side of the van, saw us, and started waving wildly.

  Jase kneeled to our eye level. “They’ve seen us.”

  “Hold on,” Clutch said before he picked up the radio. “Charlie calling Alpha.”

  A couple seconds later, Griz’s voice came on the radio. “Alpha here. Report.”

  “We have a sit rep. Charlie has come across at least six survivors ten clicks straight east of the RP.”

  “Are they raiders?”

  “Negative. Just civvies. Looks like their vehicle broke down.”

  “Alpha is heading your way. Do you want to wait for backup?”

  Clutch looked at me, Jase, and then back at the group. “Negative. We’re going to check it out.”

  “Roger. We’re on our way.”

  He hung up the radio. “Here’s the plan. We’ll pull up close. If anything throws off a red flag, we’re out of there. We all stay with the Humvee. Only if we’re absolutely sure they’re safe, Cash and I will get out. Jase, you stay behind the .30 no matter what happens. You never, ever leave the .30, got it?”

  “Yes,” we both replied at the same time. We’d been together for enough months that we understood one another.

  Clutch checked his rifle one more time. “Okay, Cash, take us in nice and slow.”

  As we approached, the man quit waving and stood between us and the woman propped against the van. The little girl stopped playing her game and jogged over to stand by the man. The other man, the one who’d been standing behind the hood, grabbed the teenaged girl and pulled her to him.

  Clutch rolled his window down.

  I pulled up alongside the van and stopped, but left the engine running.

  The craggy old woman limped over to us first. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis that looked like it’d taken over much of her body. How she’d survived this long was beyond me.

  “I need you all to stay at least four feet back,” Clutch ordered.

  Her gray eyebrows rose, but then she stopped and smiled warmly. “Oh, I’m not any danger to you, I promise. I knew God would answer my prayers. He’s never let me down yet. He’s really outdone himself this time, sending one of those big Army trucks and strapping, able-bodied young men,” she said, her voice crackly. She noticed me and touched her chest. “Oh my. Young men and woman. Well, God bless you for coming. Your timing couldn’t have been better. You see, we’ve gotten ourselves into a pickle.” She motioned
her people. “We’ve been on the road for days, only stopping for gas and rest breaks, and I’m afraid we overworked our poor van. Praise the lord for sending you to our rescue.”

  “Save your prayers, lady. God didn’t send us,” Clutch said with a grumble. “It was just luck we happened to be passing through.”

  She chuckled. “Well, you can call it what you like. It’s all the same. You’re here now. I can’t tell you how relieved we are to see you. I’m Margaret Fielding, but you can call me Maggie.”

  Clutch nodded at her group. “Nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Sergeant Seibert from Camp Fox. Where are you from and where are you headed?”

  “Well, you get straight to business, don’t you, young man? I can understand, with all those infected folks out there. We were staying at the Wisconsin Dells, but things went downhill. We were planning to keep driving until we found another group of God-fearing folks like yourselves. In fact, you’re the first people we’ve seen since we’ve left. I must admit, when our van broke down, my faith was tested. But as soon as I saw your truck, I knew everything would turn out fine.”

  Clutch didn’t speak for a long moment while he scowled at Maggie while she continued chattering away. When he finally spoke, he pointed to the pale woman sitting against the van, and interrupted. “What’s wrong with her? Is she bit?”

  Maggie turned. “Thank goodness, no. When we ran, Brenda cut herself on some old tin, and I’m afraid it’s become infected and she’s caught herself a bit of a fever. We’ve cleaned it as much as we could, but we don’t have any bandages or medicine. I don’t suppose you happen to have anything that can help her?”

  After a moment, he took in a deep breath and grabbed our first aid kit. “I’ll take a look.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Maggie said, clasping her hands together.

  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. He propped his rifle on his seat, unsnapped his holster, swung open the door, and stepped out with his cane in one hand and the kit in the other.

  I put the Humvee in Park, grabbed my rifle and stepped out. I only took a few steps and propped my rifle on the hood so that I could get behind the wheel quickly while also keeping a clear view of Clutch and the refugees. I threw a quick glance at Jase to see he had the .30 cal leveled on the refugees.

  As Maggie hobbled next to Clutch, she commented, “You don’t get around much better than I do.”

  I smirked when Clutch grunted in response. He didn’t like his faults being pointed out. I could only imagine how much it annoyed him to be compared to a little old lady.

  As Clutch approached the injured woman on the ground, he nodded toward the man near her who had the young girl pressed tight against his leg. “I need you to take a step back.”

  The man didn’t move. “She’s my wife.”

  “It’s all right, Don,” Maggie said. “He’s here to help Brenda. Let him help.”

  Keeping a watchful eye on Clutch, Don took a tentative step back, holding who I assumed to be his daughter against him. Clutch went down on his knees before the woman. “I need to take a look. I’m going to have to lift your shirt.”

  The woman—Brenda—was pale and sweaty. She was clearly in pain, every movement stiff. With a small nod, she let her hand fall to the side, giving Clutch access. Her husband stood tensely to the side, his eyes darting from Clutch to Maggie and back to Clutch.

  Clutch gingerly lifted her stained shirt and then quickly dropped it, covering his nose. He winced at me before turning back to the woman.

  He pulled out a small syringe from the first aid kit. “This will help with the pain,” he said just before injecting it into her thigh. After a moment, her features relaxed and she lay there limply. She looked almost peaceful.

  He closed up the kit and pushed himself to his feet, using his cane for support, and faced Don. “I gave her some morphine for the pain.”

  “Thank you,” Don replied.

  As Clutch stepped away from the woman, Don’s eyes widened. He shoved his girl behind him and he grabbed Clutch’s arm. “What are you doing? You have to help her! She needs antibiotics!”

  Clutch looked down at the hand on his arm and then pulled away. “There’s nothing I can do for your wife. And back the fuck off.”

  The man glared for a moment before lowering his head. “But Brenda…she needs help.”

  “I can’t help her,” Clutch said more softly this time. “It’s too late. She has gangrene, and it’s too far advanced for anything to help. The morphine will ease her pain for a bit, but there’s nothing else I can do. Any supplies we use would be wasted.”

  “Wha-what?” Don asked, seemingly unable to process Clutch’s words.

  Clutch said it more bluntly than I would’ve, but he’d never been one for beating around the bush. He gave me a hooded, tight look as he set the first aid kit back in the Humvee.

  The man’s bottom lip quivered. The girl hugging him looked up and whimpered. “What’s he saying, Daddy?”

  “There must be something that you can do,” Maggie said, wringing her hands. “It was only a cut.”

  “Wait!” The man called out. “Maggie’s right. There’s got to be something you can do. You can’t leave her like this!”

  His daughter started to cry. Big tears rolled down her cheeks as she clung to his leg.

  Clutch grabbed his rifle and shook his head. “There isn’t.” He turned away. “I’m sorry.”

  The second Humvee pulled up from the other side, and Griz jumped out.

  “They’re with us,” I told Maggie, though it should’ve been obvious.

  “You can’t leave us like this. You’ve got to help my wife, damn it!” Don cried out.

  Clutch ignored Don’s pleas and curses, instead focusing on Maggie. “Tell me about what happened at the Dells.”

  She frowned at the change in subject, watched Don and Brenda for another moment, and finally nodded and inhaled deeply. “I don’t understand where they’re coming from, but there’s so many of them, and they seem to be coming from everywhere. We were so well hidden, we were so far from any town, but they still found us. We lost so many.” Her gaze fell and she shook her head slowly from side to side. “Too many.”

  Griz came walking over, holding his rifle.

  Maggie lifted her head, looked at Griz funny, and then broke out into a wide smile. “My, I haven’t seen a black man in months, and such a fine-looking young man you are.”

  Griz raised a brow in amusement.

  Clutch spoke first. “How far behind you are the herds, Maggie?”

  “Oh,” she stammered and fidgeted. “They’re not far. Not far at all.”

  “Exactly how far is that?”

  Maggie didn’t answer.

  Griz motioned to Clutch. They walked around to my side of the Humvee.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Griz said. “Did you find any diesel?”

  Clutch shook his head. “Nothing we could get to. You?”

  Griz scowled. “It’s going to get hard fast without any power on the boat.”

  “You heard the lady,” Clutch said. “We can’t keep looking. The herds are nearly here.”

  “I know,” Griz said. “We need to be below decks and silent by the time they show up. It’s getting risky staying out here.”

  Clutch frowned. “What do we do about these folks? We have the room, but we don’t have the food. Not since the livestock was destroyed. We can’t leave them here. They’d get slaughtered.”

  Griz pointed to the west. “There’s a farm a few miles straight west of here. We found a black SUV in the driveway that runs. You can’t miss it. I can take one of them to go get it. That’ll help them get some distance between them and the herds.”

  “Until they run out of gas,” Clutch said. “If we don’t take them in, they’re zed bait.”

  Griz gave him a knowing look. “They could distract the herds from us.”

  My heart pounded. Even though my brain was telling me the
same thing, my gut was screaming at me at how wrong this felt.

  Clutch gave me a look and his features softened. “We take them with us. It’s only six—well, five—extra mouths to feed.”

  Griz looked relieved but then frowned as he looked at the injured woman. “She bit?”

  Clutch gave a slow shake of his head. “Gangrene.”

  Griz grimaced. “We came across a vet clinic this morning. We have the supplies on board to give her peace. It’s the only thing we can offer her.”

  “I’m not sure her husband and daughter would agree to that,” I chimed in. Without modern medicine, people often died horrible, painful deaths from infections. Euthanasia was one of the few things we could offer the doomed, and vet clinics offered plenty of the drug guaranteed to bring painless death.

  “Then we give them the choice. They can either stay here with her or come with us,” Griz said. “Gangrene isn’t contagious, but we can’t risk bringing any new sources of infection onto the Aurora in case she’s got more than a case of gangrene. Not with how many are just recovering now.”

  Clutch stiffened and snapped around as Don hurried toward the Humvee.

  “Stand back,” he ordered Don.

  Don kept walking toward us. “I heard what you said. You can’t leave Brenda behind. You don’t know her. She’s strong. She’ll recover.”

  “She has gangrene,” Clutch said simply, as though that answered everything.

  “She may also have contracted a secondary infection that could potentially spread. We can’t risk it,” Griz added. “Now, please step back.”

  The man’s features morphed from desperation to anger. “So you’re going to leave her here to die all alone in the middle of the road? What kind of sick monsters are you?” His fists clenched and he rushed Griz and Clutch.

  Griz hit him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle just as Don reached them. “Get on the ground! Face down and arms stretched out!”

  His daughter screamed, and the teenager rushed over and grabbed her to keep her from running to Don.