Deadland 02: Harvest

by Aukes, Rachel

  The plan was to lead the herds far enough away—at least twenty miles—from Camp Fox and then hide in a cove until they had all continued in their migration. We had no map of the river, so it would be all guesswork, and we were counting on Kurt’s experience to help navigate the river. We’d loaded up enough fuel to run for at least three days straight, but the plan was that we wouldn’t need much.

  We used paddles to keep the boat close—but not too close—to the western bank, so that the zeds from the east would work their way across the bridge to the west. Without the engine, the music blared even louder. Wes had rigged up a second battery so we wouldn’t drain the primary one.

  Jase stood up and shaded his eyes. “It looks like they’re all following. Even the ones way in back are moving. Cash, you were right. They’re just like lemmings.”

  I leaned back on the white vinyl seat. Thank God. We’d been counting on the zeds sticking with their herd mentality. That once a critical mass moved, the rest would tag happily along. Zeds weren’t very bright, to say the least, and it wasn’t too hard to outthink them. Except what they lacked in brains, they made up for in numbers and ferocity.

  Unfortunately, no matter how simple and fool-proof the plan was, when you’re surrounded by a hundred thousand zeds, it just might not matter. Predictability can fly out the window. Griz and Jase relied on prayer to make the difference. The rest of us were relying on luck.

  The current carried us faster than the herd walked so Kurt started the engine every thirty minutes or so to bring us back to the herd. It was a slow process. Two hours later, we were barely a mile south of the Aurora. At this rate, it would take us an entire day to get the herd out of the sight of the towboat and its barges, and a few days to get the herd back on their migratory path.

  When the sun reached high in the sky, Kurt lifted the boat’s sunshade. The music dampened the constant moaning. Wes had long since fallen asleep, his snores filtering through the wide-brimmed straw hat covering his face. If I closed my eyes and ignored the smells, the boat ride was almost tranquil, and I could pretend it was just another day on the water, in a world where the outbreak had never happened. There was a sense of safety in the boat, knowing that the zeds couldn’t swim out to us. When I opened my eyes to a landscape filled with zeds, with zeds reaching out to us as they stumbled along the riverbank, reality soured my daydream.

  For lunch, we each had a can of tuna and some flatbread. We didn’t carry water. Instead, we carried carbon-filter straws made for camping, and drank directly from the river. Every time I leaned over the side of the boat to drink, I had a near panic attack from imagining hands reaching up and grabbing me. Fortunately, the only thing out of the ordinary was a faded beer can floating by.

  We chatted, but small talk was hard ever since the outbreak. Without sports, politics, and celebrities, there were only so many things a person could talk about that didn’t dredge up the topic of death or zeds.

  I stared off at the treetops that lined the Mississippi. “This river has a lot of levees and little islands,” I mused.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to find a good hiding place once they get back on their migration,” Griz said.

  “The landscape can change within just a few miles. Let’s hope there will be cover available when we need it,” Kurt cautioned.

  “Hey guys. There’s a lock and dam coming up. We’ll be there in a few hours at this rate,” Jase said as he pulled out his binoculars.

  “How’s the lock look?” Clutch said from behind Kurt.

  “Nuh-uh,” Jase said. “It looks like it’s blocked by a big boat.”

  “Damn. I was hoping we’d get lucky and the lock would be clear,” Kurt said.

  “Can we get through another way?” Clutch asked.

  “Doubt it,” Kurt said.

  Clutch muttered a string of profanity, his words echoed by complaints and curses by every single one of us. When she wasn’t being a bitch, Nikki had told us how various crews had opened all the locks after the outbreak to travel the river easier. We’d been counting on having a wide open path. With a lock blocked, we quite literally had nowhere to go except back.

  I looked at my watch and tried to mentally calculate our location. We’d been on the river for nine hours. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. “We can’t be more than four or five miles from the Aurora.”

  “That’s not far enough,” Griz said and turned to Clutch. “What’s the plan, Sarge?”

  Goosebumps flitted across my skin. Once we reached the lock, we’d be fucked. The zeds would close us in. We couldn’t turn back without bringing the herds with us to the Aurora. There were no islands or outcroppings of trees to lose the zeds in.

  Clutch’s lips thinned as he looked at the herd and then ahead toward the lock. After a moment, he spoke. “We keep going.”

  Tension throbbed between my temples as I wracked my brain for ideas, but there were few options in a wide open river. We passed a couple outcroppings of dead trees, which would offer some cover, but we were still dangerously close to the river barge. An hour later, the game changed when we could see which boat was blocking the dock.

  The Lady Amore was sitting sideways in the lock. It looked like it had tried to shove past the smaller boats and logs jamming up the lock but had gotten itself stuck. Without Sorenson to captain the riverboat, it looked like Sorenson’s remaining crew lacked the skill to navigate through the open locks and around dams.

  “Oh, hell,” Jase said.

  Clutch made his way toward the front of the boat where Jase was. “What is it?”

  There are zeds all over the lock. It looks like they’re dropping down onto the boat.”

  “What do we do?” Kurt asked.

  “Our primary objective is to deter the herd,” Clutch said bluntly. “Everything else has to come second.” He turned to Kurt. “Will that small grouping of islands and trees over there work to hide us?”

  Kurt bit his lip as he thought for a moment. “It should. It’s nice and close to the lock, so as long as we get there without them seeing us, it may work. Why?”

  “Because the riverboat is going to draw their attention from us,” Clutch replied.

  Kurt frowned. “There might be people still on board.”

  Clutch narrowed his eyes. “The Aurora is counting on us.”

  “He’s right,” Griz said quietly. “We’re not far enough away. If we turn around, we could lead them right back to the Aurora. The Lady Amore will distract them enough that they’ll forget about us and then keep going. It’s the only way.”

  Clutch unsheathed his knife. “Turn off the music, Kurt. Griz, help me cut the meat loose.”

  As the pair started to cut the cords holding the deer organs onto the sides, Kurt shook his head as he started the engine and turned the boat around. “I don’t like this. It’s not right.”

  “And exactly how do you expect us to rescue anyone in that lock?” Clutch asked as a chunk of deer meat plopped into the water.

  “It’s not right, but tell me what in this godforsaken world is right,” I added, frustration bleeding over my compassion.

  “They wouldn’t have saved us,” Wes said from my right. “Besides, we’d all die if we tried to help them.”

  Kurt remained silent. He piloted the boat against the current, bringing it in between a small island and a group of tall dead trees with their trunks underwater. I peered into the trees on the tiny island. A zed’s hollow gaze leveled on me, and I shivered. It walked to the edge of the bank and stopped at the water’s edge. It didn’t growl or try to come closer. It only watched me inquisitively.

  Kurt dropped the anchor before spinning around to face Clutch. “What now?”

  “We wait.”

  And that’s exactly what we did.

  We had nowhere to go. As long as the herd was still here, we couldn’t go north without drawing their attention. The south was blocked by the lock and dam. We had to ride out the herd. An occasional scream blasted through the gro
ans of the herd, and I winced each time. I focused on breathing in the smell of the river water and tried to imagine I was in a different world, one without zeds, but the relentless sounds were an iron maiden to any daydream. I curled up into a ball and covered myself up with a blanket as I watched the zed watching me while everyone on board the Lady Amore was eaten alive.

  Chapter XXIV

  I’d hid and waited zeds out plenty of times, but this time was the hardest. Kurt was right about one thing. It felt wrong to sit by while people were slaughtered. I racked my brain for solutions, but it came down to the fact that Clutch was also right. There was nothing we could do for the riverboat. We were too late by the time we’d first seen it. Anything we did now would put both our lives and potentially every Camp Fox life at risk. The mission had to come first. The Lady Amore’s demise was our wild card. We needed it to distract the herds from both us and the Aurora.

  We waited while the zeds that fell onto the riverboat gorged themselves on its occupants. No one spoke, not even when I could hear someone screaming for help. To better hide our scents, we covered ourselves with blankets, which also helped to ward off the cold. Only our heads peeked out so we could watch for any approaching zeds, but the blankets did little to muffle the sounds.

  The zed on the riverbank just stood there and stared, strangely not in a frenzy to reach fresh food. Its gaze seemed more curious than vicious. Still, I would’ve preferred to kill it, but it would have been a waste of a good arrow since the zed couldn’t reach us. Instead, I kept a close watch on it while the sun set.

  When sunlight morphed into moonlight, the lone zed remained easy enough to spot. Its jaundiced eyes reflected light in the dark akin to a cat’s. Fortunately, unlike cats, zeds’ vision sucked at night, making their eyes a giveaway to us, as long as the moon was bright.

  Clutch assigned shifts using hand signals, but I don’t think anyone slept. The constant moans of the herd cut through any imagined sense of safety. It sounded like a madhouse orchestra, with every instrument out of tune, and every note a screech. For the first time, I could almost commiserate with Maggie. I wanted to scream at the zeds to stop. They were driving me mad, but I was sane enough to know it would do no good. Instead, I focused my hate on Maggie, blaming her for our situation—even though I knew she wasn’t to blame. If she hadn’t gone nuts, someone else would have broken eventually. Still, hating her helped ground me.

  Sometime during the night, we huddled together for warmth, rotating as we went on and off night watch. Each of our breaths made a tiny white puff in the night. It had to be below freezing because frost built on the wispy edges of my hair.

  By morning, we were all snuggled together in the center of the boat, except for Clutch who’d taken the final night watch. Kurt copped a quick feel under the blanket, but I pretended I didn’t notice. Even though I wanted to kick him in the nuts, there were just some things a woman learned to deal with when outnumbered ten to one by men in the field.

  I opened my eyes and found Clutch watching me. I smiled, and he returned one of his all-too-rare smiles before turning back to watch the river. Suddenly warmer, I closed my eyes, making sure his smile stayed imprinted in my memory. There were too many bad memories in my head already. I had to work hard to keep the good ones. I spent the next several minutes dreaming of our cabin and snuggling with Clutch. He gave me that smile before kissing me and pulling me to him.

  Unfortunately, Kurt’s groping ruined the fantasy. When his fingers crept to my inner thigh, I decided I’d rather be out in the cold than under a blanket with him, and I shimmied out with a grumble. His finger looped around my belt, but I gave a sharp heel to his stomach, and he let go with a grunt. Clutch cut Kurt a hard look before giving me a questioning look.

  I replied by focusing my smile completely on him and sitting next to him on the frost-covered seat. Cold wetness seeped through my cargos and into my bones. I shivered, and Clutch wrapped his blanket and a cold arm around me. He was shivering too, and I snuggled into his embrace. I found my breathing found a pace with his, and I placed my hand over his steady heartbeat. He leaned toward me and pulled me possessively closer. Feeling a rare peacefulness, we watched the sun rise over the trees.

  Behind us, the zed on the water’s edge had disappeared at some point before morning. We’d gotten lucky that the herd had followed us along the western bank of the river. If they’d taken both sides, we were just close enough to the eastern bank that we could’ve been seen or sniffed out.

  I figured we deserved the luck. All too many times, we’d been unlucky, and it had become expected. Statistically, things were bound to go our way once in a while. But when they did, like now, it felt unnatural and worrisome. Not that I was worried enough to not savor our temporary fortune.

  Jase and Griz joined us next. Jase grabbed my arm. He had a huge grin on his face as he pointed toward the lock. I looked and my mouth opened. I grabbed Clutch’s hand but he was already looking, too.

  The herds were moving on!

  My heart nearly leapt from my chest and I squeezed Clutch’s hand. A line of zeds had begun to head south, and the ones left around the lock were following. It would take them a long time, but their trajectory was clearly the opposite direction of the Aurora. I hadn’t looked earlier because I was afraid of what I’d see. I grinned like a little girl as I snuggled in between Jase and Clutch and we spent the next several hours watching the exodus in silence.

  By lunchtime, I was starving. Clutch had finally given the okay to eat. Last night and this morning, we couldn’t risk the smell of food getting out. While we waited out the herds, we crunched as quietly as possible on nuts and some kind of flatbread cracker that Vicki invented. Even after letting each cracker sit in my mouth to get soggy, they still crunched. With every bite, I grimaced, wishing Vicki sent something mushy along, but I was too hungry to go without food, and so I kept crunching away.

  It wasn’t until nearly six hours later that Griz and Clutch broke the silence.

  “Don’t hate me for saying this, guys, but I think we ought to check out the riverboat,” Griz said with an almost pained expression, like the words hurt to say them.

  “Too dangerous,” Clutch replied. “I can still see the back of the herd. Too much noise could draw their attention back this way.”

  “There might be survivors,” Kurt said.

  “There will definitely be zeds,” Clutch countered.

  “Just think of how much food and supplies are on that boat,” Wes chimed in.

  “And how many zeds do you think are on that boat between us and any supplies?” Clutch asked.

  “You’re lead on this mission, but what’s the harm in just going in near enough to scout it out?” Griz said. “As long as it’s stuck in the lock, it could be an emergency food run if it’s not too heavily damaged. Besides, we can’t head back to the Aurora yet, not until the herds are further away.”

  We all watched Clutch hopefully. While I trusted his judgment—his gut was never wrong—a part of me imagined the Lady Amore as the Titanic and that we could rescue any survivors who remained. Since the outbreak, nearly everything we did revolved around simply surviving. The chance to save even one person from the zeds brought hope that we could eventually win this war. Even though the realistic part of my brain pointed out the hopeless odds of surviving a zed herd.

  Clutch sighed. “All right, but we wait until we are sure the herd can’t see, smell, or hear us. So, dig in. We have at least a couple more hours to wait.”

  And the waiting continued.

  Three hours and forty-seven minutes later, Clutch broke the silence. “Okay. We’ll go in slow and keep to the east bank. We can’t do a thing to draw the herd’s attention, got it?”

  We all came to full attention. No one smiled because we all knew that going near anything where zeds had been a day earlier was dangerous.

  “It’s the right thing,” Kurt said as he climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  “Before we go, take five,�
� Clutch said. “We’re not heading into that clusterfuck half-cocked.”

  After we checked and double-checked our weapons, Kurt started the motor, and then reached back and pulled up the anchor. He kept the motor at idle as he weaved through the trees that had camouflaged us all night. The wind was out of the northwest, so any noise from the boat was carried harmlessly to the southeast.

  Once clear of the trees, Kurt cut the engine, and we rode the current toward the lock. We all searched for survivors as well as for zeds. No zeds remained on the ledges, but I could already make out at least a hundred on the top deck of the riverboat. Kurt kept the boat on the eastern edge, so the tall, concrete lock served as a wall between us and the migrating herds. Even though they were now several miles away, we’d all long since learned that one of the secrets to survival was to be overly, obsessively careful. The other secret? Having a shitload of luck.

  “Careful not to get caught in the lock,” Griz said.

  “Trust me, Sarge. I know what I’m doing,” Kurt replied.

  I’d almost echoed Griz’s words. The riverboat blocked the entire opening to the lock, with smaller boats and debris lodged around it. Kurt pulled the boat closer and slowed to a stop.

  Any hope I had of finding survivors, or at least access to food and supplies, was quickly drowned. The riverboat was filled with zeds. Through the windows, we could see zeds standing shoulder-to-shoulder. “We’re not going in there,” I said quietly. “Any food or supplies is a lost cause.”

  Clutch grimaced. “The riverboat is a no-go. Let’s head back to the levee.”

  Kurt started to turn the boat around. Something thumped against the hull.

  Griz leaned over the edge and then staggered back. “The water is full of zeds! They’re floating just below the surface. Get out of here!”

  Kurt throttled forward, but the motor ground and then died.

  “They’re getting tangled in the props!” Wes cried out.

  “Grab the oars,” Clutch ordered. “No gunfire.”