The Complete Deadland Saga

by Rachel Aukes

  “At some point, yeah,” Clutch said. “But, if we wait until the temps drop more, we can take them one building at a time, like we did this one.”

  “Except we won’t have any ammo to do this to all the buildings,” I countered. “We’ll have to get creative.”

  “And, we will. Later. Right now, we need to send out recon to secure us some transportation home,” Clutch said.

  “I’m guessing you already have a plan,” I said.

  Clutch nodded. “An easy grab-and-go. Bring our transportation to us and load up. We’ve collected over twenty sets of keys from the shoppers still in the store. At least a couple vehicles in the parking lot should still have juice. But, the damn mutts are between us and our wheels.”

  “We figured they’d get hungry and leave,” Griz said. “The numbers are already down quite a bit. Within a week or so, they would’ve been gone.” He grinned. “But now we don’t have to wait for the flea-bitten mongrels to leave or eat each other.”

  “We’ll head out in ten,” Clutch said. “Griz, Marco, and I will take the truck—”

  “I’ll drive,” Jase inserted.

  Clutch watched the teenager for a moment, before giving a tight nod. “Okay. Jase will drive. The rest of us will ride in the back.”

  “Isn’t that too dangerous?” I asked. “Can’t the dogs jump up and reach you back there?”

  “They could,” Clutch said. “Except all of them are half-starved and many of them are sick. We should be able to block the few that can get up that high.” He pointed at me. “Do you have ammo?”

  “Not much. A little.”

  “How much is ‘a little?’”

  “Thirty-five rounds.”

  He frowned. “That’s enough. I want you covering us from the roof in case this heads south.” He looked around. “Everyone else, be ready to defend a perimeter at the back door and load up. We’re not going to stick around this shithole once we have transportation.”

  A guy named Jack led me to the roof, while everyone else stayed below and prepared for what Jase called Operation: Carjack.

  On the flat, empty rooftop, frostbite posed the only danger. I walked the edge of the roof until I found the right spot overlooking the parking lot. I settled onto my stomach and set up my rifle. Below, I didn’t see any dogs, though some of the ones waiting out back were bound to follow the truck.

  The sound of the Chevy’s engine cut through the frozen air, and I focused on waiting for the truck to enter my line of sight. Once it did, I watched Jase drive the truck, with three men standing on back. Clutch stood with his sword drawn. Griz and Marco each had machetes, and Griz had added an axe to his collection.

  Behind the truck followed a dozen mangy dogs. Most were large, but there were a couple mid-sized ones, though I couldn’t make out any particular breeds. The procession reminded me of the Pied Piper plan we’d used several times against the zeds. Only this time, we didn’t want to be followed.

  The truck drove slowly, and I watched Marco dump a bag full of keys onto the roof of the truck. He picked them up, one by one, holding them out toward the parked cars. When the lights flashed on a red minivan, Marco thumped the roof, and the truck pulled to a stop, making a tight ‘T’ with the van.

  The dogs circled the truck. I could hear their snarls from my position. None had jumped yet, but I had no idea how they were going to get from the truck to the van. Then, Marco jumped off the truck and onto the hood of the van. A dog lunged at him, and I fired. The dog fell back with a yelp. This incensed the other dogs, and their growls grew in volume.

  “Nice shot,” Jack said, and I ignored him.

  Marco wiped the windshield and looked inside. He gave the truck a thumbs up. Jase pulled away slowly, and Clutch and Griz yelled out at the dogs. Nearly all snapped around and followed them, leaving only two who seemed to be concentrating on Marco. He looked up at me, and I fired twice. Each shot took out a dog. Marco jumped down and was inside the van in no time.

  The van’s engine turned over and engaged, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted this to be over. I hated killing animals, especially what had once been pets. There was something horribly wrong about it. The poor things were only trying to survive. We had done this to them. We had raised them as pets and then abandoned them. It only made sense for them to return to their wolf roots to survive. It made me think of Diesel. He’d be one of these dogs if he didn’t have Frost or Benji to look after him. He could’ve been one of the dogs I’d just shot.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them. The truck stopped at a green SUV. This time, Griz jumped onto the hood. Fewer dogs followed Clutch’s voice this time. They were learning. After I killed five dogs, at least one of which I could’ve sworn was a gray wolf, Griz climbed inside the SUV, and started it up.

  All three vehicles—the Chevy, the SUV, and the minivan—headed back around the building.

  The remaining dogs attacked their fallen comrades. It was a kill-or-be-killed world now. My shooting wasn’t perfect today; they weren’t all kill shots, and the injured dogs screamed in agony as the others tore into them. I couldn’t get any clear shots on the poor animals. The bile rose in my throat, and I jumped to my feet. Without looking back, I crossed the roof in time to see the three vehicles form a tight semicircle around the back door.

  For the second time, I got down and aimed my rifle. Now, nearly all the dogs cautiously stepped toward the vehicles. Their bristled fur and growls made it clear they weren’t coming out to play.

  The doors popped open, and the men ran inside. Thankfully, none of the dogs managed to get around the cars before the back door closed, so I didn’t have to shoot anything else. I yanked open the access door and jogged down the stairs to find men stuffing items into shopping carts. It seemed about half of the carts were filled with beer.

  Clutch shook his head. “This mission is a scrub. We don’t have space for the supplies. We’ll come back next week with a plan and better equipment.”

  “We should get the semi-truck going then,” Tom said. “Take what we can now.”

  Clutch pursed his lips. “Good luck finding diesel. Besides, we don’t know when those guys who left the truck will be back. We have no ammo and no plan to hold them off. We need to get back to New Eden and regroup. Our lives are more important than this stuff.” He motioned around him. “We have three vehicles and fourteen people. Do the math. Take what you can, but what doesn’t fit will get left behind.”

  There was some grumbling, but no one outright argued against Clutch’s plan.

  He continued. “When it comes time to move, you’d better move. I don’t like the look of those dogs. Be careful out there. If you get rabies, game over.”

  “The dogs will eat anything,” Jack said from behind me. “To buy us time to load, we should shoot a few. Give the rest something to keep busy with.”

  Shock sent me jerking around. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Clutch said. “We can use the distraction.”

  I hemmed for a moment. Finally, I spoke. “Why don’t we throw them some food from here? There has to be something in here that we can feed them. They’re starving.”

  “They’re also sick. Their aggression could trump their hunger,” Clutch said.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “But, we can give it a shot,” he added, and turned to the squadron. “Hey, Tom. Where was the dog food you came across earlier?”

  “It’s over by the shop area,” one of the guys said.

  Clutch held out a hand. “Then go get it.”

  He jumped, grabbed an empty cart, and headed in the direction he’d pointed. Two other men rushed to follow.

  I took a seat and shook my head. “Why didn’t you guys try feeding the dogs before? Maybe once they had food, they would’ve moved on.”

  Griz chuckled. “A city girl like you never had strays before, huh.”

  I frowned. “No. Why?”

  “The food would attract anything hungry
in the area,” Griz said. “And once they got hungry again, they’d be back for more.”

  “This diversion will work one time,” Clutch said. “It’ll keep the ones here busy for a few minutes, but at the same time, it’s going to draw in a shitload more.”

  “Oh.” I stared off for a moment. “We can try something else instead.”

  Clutch shook his head. “No. It’s a good plan.”

  Ten minutes later, we had hauled ten fifty-pound bags of dog food up to the roof. I didn’t carry a bag, but followed them up the stairs. Outside, we all stood along the roof edge, looking down.

  “Here goes nothing,” Griz said, and dropped his bag. It fell the thirty-foot drop and exploded when it hit the ground.

  A dog crept forward, and then three more followed. They sniffed the food before scooping up mouthfuls of the kibble.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s working.”

  “Bombs away,” Jase said, and dropped his bag. The remaining bags dropped, and soon, all the dogs in the area came to enjoy the feast.

  “That should buy us a couple minutes,” Clutch said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We all jogged toward the stairs. “Thanks,” I said when Clutch had me go before him. “It means a lot.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could see in his gaze that he understood. There was enough death out there already. Anything we could do to leave one fewer scar on our souls was worth it.

  “Move it, move it,” Clutch ordered, and we all rushed toward the back entrance. “Head to your DV!”

  Several men had full carts, and I had no idea where they were going to find room for everything. Three vehicles for fourteen people? They must’ve figured we had clown cars sitting out there with bottomless trunks. Not wanting to get blocked behind their carts, I squeezed between them, and Clutch did the same. Jase managed to climb over the carts, and Griz and Marco shoved their way through.

  All I took from the store was a bag full of mini first-aid kits, two paperback novels, and the insert I broke free from a religious photo frame. It had the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. When I was a little girl, my mother used to sing that prayer when she washed dishes. Clutch carried a single bottle of whiskey. I didn’t see what Griz had stuffed into his backpack.

  Clutch had his sword drawn, and I situated everything so I could hold out my machete. He peeked out the door, turned back to us, and nodded. “It looks good. Time to bug out. Watch yourselves out there.” He yanked open the door and we rushed forward. Several dogs eating outside the semicircle froze and ducked, as though expecting us to attack.

  We didn’t. Clutch opened the Chevy’s door and shoved me in, coming in behind me. Griz and Marco jumped onto the bed. Jase, who’d refused to give up the keys, quickly hopped in and shut the door. As he started the engine, I twisted around to see men climb into the other vehicles. We’d planned who would ride in which vehicle earlier so everything would move smoothly.

  But, rather than climbing in, the others were busy unloading five shopping carts. Cases of beer were thrown on the roof of the mini-van. I saw movement come from under the SUV.

  “Watch out!” I yelled through the glass, but no one looked up.

  “God damn it,” Clutch muttered. “Move, move!”

  Jack didn’t notice the dog creeping out from under the green vehicle until it was too late. The dog—it reminded me of a black Lab—lunged and knocked Jack onto his back. He screamed out. Someone swung a bat, and the dog was knocked away with a yelp. It limped but came at Jack again. He was pulled inside, and the door slammed shut the instant the dog made its second attack into the door.

  “Lead us out of here,” Clutch said, and Jase popped the truck into gear.

  The vehicles were tight together, and it took Jase several turns before he was able to drive away. He winced every time the bumper hit the concrete wall or the minivan behind us. He gunned the engine but slowed down quickly to weave around the rapidly increasing number of dogs around us.

  I kept watch behind us, to make sure both vehicles were following, and—more important—to make sure both Griz and Marco were safe. They had to be freezing out there, but they were both adamant about climbing on the truck rather than squeezing in the other vehicles to make the getaway faster. If only the others were as fast, Jack wouldn’t have been attacked.

  I wondered how Jack was doing. If he was seriously injured. I was hoping the dog hadn’t bit through his clothes. If he caught rabies, there would be little anyone could do. Clutch thumbed the radio a couple times, but no one responded from the other two vehicles.

  “They must not have their radios plugged in,” I said. “It won’t be too long before we can pull over and talk to them.”

  He plugged the radio back into the lighter, and dropped the radio on the dash.

  Jase picked up speed once we made it onto the interstate, but he kept it slow enough that Griz and Marco didn’t get knocked around too badly. Any dogs that followed drifted off, and soon we were leaving the skyline of a destroyed Omaha behind.

  Griz and Marco were tucked low into the bed of the truck and snuggled together. I almost laughed until I realized how cold it must’ve been for them back there. I turned back to Clutch and Jase. “How much longer before we can stop? The guys will freeze back there.”

  “Go ten more klicks before we slow down,” Clutch said. “That should be enough distance between us and the packs in the city.”

  Jase cocked his head.

  “Drive seven more miles,” Clutch added.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Jase said.

  “I did,” Clutch answered.

  They bantered for the full seven miles before Clutch pointed to an exit and overpass. “Take us up there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jase said with a hint of sarcasm.

  He took the exit and came to a stop in the middle of the overpass. Clutch zipped his coat up, and I opened the door and slid out. From this vantage point, we could see for miles in every direction.

  Griz and Marco climbed stiffly out of the back, and I could hear their teeth chatter from where I stood. I rubbed Griz’s arm. “Why don’t you guys sit in the truck for now? Warm up until we figure out who’s riding with whom.”

  “Now, that is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Griz said through chattering teeth.

  Clutch walked around the overpass, his eyes shaded against the sun, and scanned the area around us. I watched the approaching vehicles. When the SUV stopped, I walked over and opened Jack’s door. He sat inside, grimacing, with boxes and bags piled on him and the others.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  “Dog got its teeth into my arm,” he said.

  “Do you need stitches?” I asked.

  “It’s not bad,” he said. “It barely broke the skin. Hurts worse than it looks.”

  I sighed. “Well, let’s hope it didn’t have rabies.” I held out one of the first aid kits I’d picked up at the store.”

  “I don’t need it,” he said. “I already cleaned it up.”

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  I turned away and saw Clutch pulling things out of the minivan. “C’mon, we need to be able to fit two more in here. And who the hell grabbed a baby seat?”

  Clutch went to throw the big box, but Marco sprang from the truck. “That’s mine.” He grabbed the box from Clutch. “It’s for Deb.”

  Clutch’s lips thinned. “Strap it to the roof or something. It takes up too damn much room.”

  “Hey guys,” Griz said, and we turned around. He stepped from the truck and pointed down the road to the north. “Recognize anything?”

  I searched the road but only saw a few derelict vehicles that were covered in ash and grime.

  “Son of a bitch,” Clutch muttered. He jogged over to the truck and stood behind the hood, staring at something in that direction.

  I pulled out my binoculars and ran toward him. I looked through them, moving across the landscape. “What do you see?”

&
nbsp; “Let me see those,” he said and took my binoculars. He looked through them for a minute.

  I stared in the same direction and then finally spotted it. “Holy shit. Are those our trucks?”

  “Yeah,” he replied and handed me my binoculars.

  In the distance, I could make out a church—St. Dominic’s according to the stone sign up front. Tucked nearly behind the church were, sure enough, our trucks. Their beds were still filled with supplies. We never would’ve seen them from the interstate; someone had hid them carefully. But, they hadn’t planned on us coming up on this overpass.

  Clutch turned around to face the rest of our traveling companions. “Load up and regroup below this overpass. Let’s see about getting our trucks back.”

  “But, it’s too dangerous,” Tom said.

  I patted Tom’s shoulder. “Look at the bright side. You said you were disappointed not getting to go to church on Thanksgiving. Here’s your chance.”

  Chapter XII

  We moved in without waiting for the sun to set, figuring that if the thieves were halfway decent at surviving, they would’ve seen us long before we ever saw them.

  Clutch was as hardheaded as they came, but he was also practical. We weren’t going after the thieves, only our four missing trucks. The thieves had carried no guns when they’d stolen our trucks, so Clutch figured they had no ammo. Still, the plan wasn’t without risk.

  The plan was as simple and safe as we could make it: drive cautiously up to the trucks, check each truck for its keys, and drive off, all the while keeping an eye out for trouble. If the thieves tried anything, we were going to hightail it out of there.

  Jase drove the Chevy. We’d emptied out the bed, leaving the drum of gas and extra supplies with the other vehicles under the overpass. Now, four men—Clutch, Griz, Marco, and Tom—rode in back, with each one going for a specific truck. I rode in back with them to look for any signs of trouble and to lay down cover fire if things turned messy.

  I searched for movement as we approached the parking lot. Other than seeing some candles lit inside the church, I saw nothing. The parking lot was open, with few trees or shrubs to hide danger.