Deadland Rising
The search for hope in a shambling world
Rachel Aukes
The Deadland Saga
100 Days in Deadland
Deadland’s Harvest
Deadland Rising
Contents
UNCERTAINTY (Ch. I - V)
AMBITION (Ch. VI - VII)
TEMPTATION (Ch. VIII - IX)
PRUDENCE (Ch. X - XIII)
FORTITUDE (Ch. XIV – XVII)
JUSTICE (Ch. XVIII - XX)
TEMPERANCE (Ch. XXI)
HOPE (Ch. XXII - XXVI)
COURAGE (Ch. XXVII - XXIX)
REDEMPTION (Ch. XXX - XXXIII)
Also by Rachel Aukes
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright Notice
For Lori, Glenda, and Eric.
UNCERTAINTY
Chapter I
The fresh blanket of snow created a pleasant illusion. With Des Moines covered in silent white, I could almost imagine that concealed underneath the disguise was not the charred, desolate remains of a city littered with hundreds of thousands of corpses.
Another round of shivers racked my body. I hugged myself to fight off the morning chill and slid off the hood of the Humvee. Pants, boots, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a mid-weight jacket weren’t nearly enough to ward off the looming Midwest winter. The cold wasn’t the only reason why I was shivering, though. I shivered because I felt utterly empty and afraid.
We had nothing. No food, no supplies, and less than a day’s worth of gas left.
A lot had changed in two days. I think we were all numb, still operating on autopilot. Ten of us were all that remained of Camp Fox. To call our ragtag group “survivors” was being generous.
Clutch leaned next to me against the Humvee. He watched me with those warm brown eyes. They were often his only betrayal of emotion. He tried so hard to remain stoic, always in control, but his eyes belied his hard-fought façade. He was exhausted…and worried. “How are you holding up, Cash?”
I forced a smile. “Hanging in there. You?”
He rubbed his neck. “Hanging in there.” He handed me a bag of homemade granola he’d found while searching vehicles after the bandit attack alongside the Mississippi River.
As I chewed on a handful of crunchy seeds, nuts, and oats, I stared at the large store on the other side of the interstate in the far distance. Sitting on the outskirts of the city, the building had somehow survived the bombing of Des Moines. After the outbreak, the military had tried to stop the spread by bombing all large cities, but their attempts were too late to do much good. I pointed to the store. “That’s a Bass Pro Shop. It could be worth checking out. If it hasn’t been looted already, it would have winter coats.”
Clutch let out a long, quiet whistle. “Awfully risky. I’d prefer not to get any closer to Des Moines than we are now.”
“That’s the same reason why most looters would have avoided it, too,” I replied. “It’s worth the risk. Now that most of the zeds have migrated south for the winter, this could be our best chance before these places turn into a free-for-all.”
He pushed off the vehicle, opened the driver’s side door, and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He scrutinized the area for long minutes before handing the binoculars to me. “It looks in good shape. There’s going to be zeds still locked inside.”
I adjusted the binoculars to see through the store’s shattered windows but could make out nothing in the interior darkness. “We won’t know until we check it out.”
“Farmhouses would be safer.”
“And looted already.” I lowered the binoculars. “I don’t want to go into a place that big and that close to the city, but we’re going to freeze out here otherwise.”
After a pause, he sighed. “I sure would like to get my hands on some decent fishing gear.”
I chewed on my lip. “What do you say? It could be like Christmas for all of us. Just a couple months early.”
Slowly, his lips curled upward. “Christmas, eh? Jase has been talking about wanting a new backpack. We still need to figure out a plan,” he said.
“Plan for what?” Jase chimed in as he walked toward us, hefting a black garbage bag filled with river water ready to be filtered and boiled.
“We’re going to check out that Bass Pro Shop over there.” I pointed.
He cocked his head in that direction. “Cool. Count me in. After breakfast, though. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Clutch retorted.
The insatiable teenager shrugged and headed straight for our small campfire, where Vicki was busy making some kind of wild herbal tea to go with a bucketful of walnuts and two small trout Frost had caught.
As we all gathered around the fire, Clutch and I shared our ideas regarding the store. While no one was excited about entering a sporting goods store so soon after the run-in with the bandits in a store far too similar to this one, everyone agreed that we would freeze to death without warmer clothes.
If only we had food and supplies, I would’ve preferred to skip the store and head straight for Fox National Park. Several of us knew the area blindfolded. Alas, we had neither food nor supplies, and there was snow on the ground. Overnight, we had changed from the survivors handing out the food to begging for food.
Marco, the only person in our group not from Camp Fox, was the only man left alive of a squad sent to search for survivors. Marco’s home base was New Eden, a large sanctuary in Nebraska. He’d said New Eden had enough supplies to feed hundreds well into next year. Even better, the town had been built around a missile silo. They’d survived the herds by going underground, and could do it again. Marco was anxious to get back to New Eden, and his hope was contagious. The decision had been unanimous.
We’d accompany Marco to New Eden.
Little Benji finished breakfast first to hustle back to playing fetch with Diesel, a massive Great Dane that stood taller than the boy and would protect his short master with his life. Benji had Down syndrome, yet he’d managed to survive the outbreak on his own and ride a bicycle for miles through a zed-infested landscape to search for his grandfather.
I chuckled while I watched the two chase each other. Benji, oblivious to the ruined world around him, proved more resilient than the rest of us. He didn’t seem to carry the emotional or physical scars we’d collected since the outbreak. Sometimes, I wondered if we needed Benji more than he needed us. Frost smiled at me before turning back to watch his grandson play. The older man rubbed his knuckles, a sure sign his arthritis was acting up again.
A cold wind blew through. “Brr,” Hali said as she snuggled closer to Jase. The teenagers tried to look casual about their friendship, but everyone knew the pair carried a flame for each other. Even the apocalypse couldn’t stop young love.
“Here you go, dear. This will warm you up.” Deb poured steaming tea into Hali’s water bottle. Deb was moving slowly due to her daily bouts of morning sickness. She wasn’t showing yet, but Vicki had said the first few months of pregnancy were always the hardest. That Tack, Deb’s lover, had died only a couple weeks ago, didn’t help. The woman was struggling to hang on—physically and emotionally—and there wasn’t a goddamn thing any of us could do.
“I say we take a full day in the store, pull together what we can, and then spend the night inside,” Griz said before quickly adding, “Assuming it’s safe.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Clutch said. “But, I don’t like how many assumptions we’re operating on right now.” Clutch and Griz could’ve been twins with how they thought alike, despite their different personalities. I suspec
ted much of that came about because both men were Army Rangers and every day was another mission.
“Then we’d better get packed up and check out the place,” Jase said. “Maybe I’ll find a new backpack. Did I mention that I’d like a new backpack?”
“Every day,” Clutch groaned, giving Jase a small smile before his features tightened. “All right, everyone. We head out in fifteen. Cash, Jase, and Griz, you’re with me to recon the store.”
“Got it,” I said, echoed by affirmations from Jase and Griz.
Clutch continued. “Marco, you’ll lead the second Humvee with everyone else crammed in. I know it won’t be comfortable. You’ll park at the far edge of the parking lot to watch for zeds. At the first sign of trouble, you’ll radio us, and we’ll rendezvous back here. Otherwise, we’ll bring you inside once we have a defensible position for the night. Any questions?”
Griz spit out a piece of walnut shell. “Dibs on the candy aisle.”
“Each man for himself,” Jase said with a sly grin.
“Okay, the two words of the day are ‘quiet’ and ‘careful,’ everyone,” Clutch said as he climbed to his feet. “This place could be a goldmine, or we could be walking into a buffet line for zeds. Let’s pack up and roll out.”
“Or a trap set by bandits,” Vicki said bitterly.
I clenched my jaw. No one needed reminded. I jumped abruptly to my feet and focused on brushing walnut shells off my pants rather than on the truth in Vicki’s words.
Twelve minutes later, we were driving toward the store. Adrenaline made my knees knock. I rubbed my cold hands together. For the size of their engines, Humvees had shit for heaters, though I’d be rubbing my hands together even if it was the middle of summer.
We all had weapons. Clutch still had his Blaser rifle that he’d owned for far longer than he’d known me. I checked my pistol: a Glock on which I’d spent an hour cleaning off its previous owner’s blood. I holstered it and then checked both my knife and machete.
I hoped that none of us would have to waste what precious little ammunition we had left. I had to get up close and personal to use my machete, but I figured—hoped—that the cold temperature would have slowed down any remaining zeds.
Since the zed migration a couple weeks ago, I assumed that most of the zed population would’ve joined the herds as they headed south. With how few zeds we’d seen since the herds passed through, my theory seemed proven. Otherwise, going this near to a city was suicide. Of course, I also knew that if the zeds couldn’t have gotten out of the building to join the herds, they would still be inside, safe from the elements and starving for food.
At the edge of the parking lot stood a lone, charred zed. Snow dusted its head and shoulders. Its eyes, nose, and ears were all burnt or rotted off, which explained why it wouldn’t have known to follow the herds. It wore fatigues, and I wondered how it ended up here. We drove close enough to the frozen zed that I could read the bloodied and blackened badge it wore: Pvt Jonathan Hart.
What happened to you, Private Jonathan Hart?
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I scowled and looked away. I’d never forget his name now. I hated humanizing zeds, even though they weren’t anywhere near human anymore. That much was clear. It was as though they’d transformed, or transhumanized, into something entirely different. Except, when they wore something that revealed the person they’d once been, it added one more vision to an already overflowing cornucopia of nightmares.
Fortunately for us, the only other zeds in the parking lot except for Private Jonathan Hart were collapsed lumps on the concrete. Even covered by snow, I knew those lumps belonged to someone’s family at one time. Hell, they could’ve been my family, who I’d abandoned in Des Moines when I’d selfishly fled the city during the outbreak.
I tried not to think about the greatest regret of my life, instead focusing on the massive store before us. Be here, now, I ordered myself.
Other than the completely demolished glass doors, likely from the bomb blast, the building from the front was in one piece and looked to be in pretty good shape. Unfortunately, through those shattered doors, I could see sunlight. A large section of the roof must’ve caved in, which meant the store wasn’t going to be winning any prizes for being structurally sound. Not only would we have to be careful to not set off any more seismic events within the store, we’d have to deal with concrete, roof, and rebar while searching for supplies. The bright side was any zeds that had been trapped inside should’ve been able to get out and leave with the herds.
Griz whistled. “She looked prettier from a distance,” he said from the backseat, pointing at the building.
“It’s what’s on the inside that counts,” I replied optimistically.
“Depends,” he said. “Are we talking about girls or stores?”
Jase snorted.
I rotated in my seat to find Griz smirking and Jase grinning from ear to ear. “You guys are hopeless.”
It was then I noticed a green sprig weaved around Griz’s helmet, another one of his personal air fresheners. Without deodorant, we’d all found new ways to deal with not having baths anymore. Today, his sprig reminded me of a laurel wreath, as though he were the mighty Apollo ready for battle. “What. No wreath for me?” I asked.
“If I make one for you, I’ll have to make one for everyone,” Griz replied.
“You made one for Benji,” I said.
“The little trickster conned me into making him one.”
“Diesel even has one on his collar,” Jase added.
Griz shrugged. “He conned me, too.”
I dramatically acted put out. “You made one for the dog before making one for me?”
“Yup,” he replied simply.
“Time for game faces,” Clutch said. “We’re coming up on kick-off.”
I smiled and shook my head at Griz before turning my attention back to the store.
Clutch drove around the perimeter of the building, where we found part of the western wall had collapsed from a fire. That explained the sunlight we’d seen, but the blackened debris worried me. “I hope the fire didn’t burn through the store,” I said.
“If it did, it’ll be a quick trip,” Clutch said as he brought the Humvee to a stop twenty feet from the main doors. We stepped outside. Gripping my machete, I searched the area for any signs of life. The only thing I saw was my breath in the cold air. After we spent many long seconds walking alongside the front and sides of the building, we stood outside the doors.
Inside the store, snow covered a portion of the merchandise, making a playground of shapes that could be anything. We shared the look. The one where we both wanted to get the hell out of there, but knew we had to go in. It was the look of dread.
“It doesn’t look looted,” Jase said. “That’s a good sign.”
Clutch glanced upward, shading his eyes against the sun with his hand. “Well, we can’t wait around. When the sun warms things up, the zeds will start moving around again. We need to either go in now or write it off.”
“At least the snow will make it easier to spot footprints,” Griz said, coming to a stop next to me.
I closed my eyes and turned my face toward the sun, feeling its warmth on my cold skin. After taking a deep breath, I turned back toward the team. “We’re already here.”
Clutch pulled out his handheld radio and clicked the mike. “This is Team Charlie. We’ll check back in twenty minutes. Radio silence otherwise. Be ready to roll out if this run turns to shit. Do not come after us. Confirm.”
“Got it,” Marco’s voice came through the radio in response. “Be careful in there.”
Jase took the first step forward. “Let’s do this.”
The four of us moved toward the hollowed-out front doors. As one, we stepped through the frames, our boots crunching on broken glass.
A single zed lay in our path in the entryway. Its skin was ripped from its body, flayed by glass shards, several of which were still embedded in organs.
&nb
sp; “The thing must’ve been pushed up against the glass doors when the bombs fell,” Griz said quietly as he gripped his machete.
Sprawled under a ceiling where the elements couldn’t get to it, I could see the zed’s organs, even its lungs and heart, beneath its shattered ribs. Its mouth moved only slightly, as though it was trying to tell us something. I’d seen horrific things before, but this zed caused us all to pause. It didn’t attack, though with how ravaged its body was, it probably couldn’t. Instead, it did nothing but lay there and watch us. Its gaze seemed more curious than sinister.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the zed. Not until Griz put it out of its misery with a single thrust of his blade. I took a deep breath and swallowed. The aggressive zeds were so much easier to deal with. They’d come at me with evil in their eyes, and I instinctively fought back. Then, there was the tiniest minority of ones like this one that stuck with me. I called them Zen zeds, the ones that simply stared and never attacked. They haunted my nightmares worse than the violent ones, because these seemed like they retained a shred of their humanity. The act of killing them felt more like euthanasia than self-defense. I assumed they preferred death. At least, that’s what I told myself.
Clutch began to move forward again, and the rest of us fell in behind him. We stepped cautiously until we were out of the narrow entryway and stood at the edge of the huge store. Clutch took point, and we followed him as he headed to the right, toward the boat section. Earlier, he’d said that he wanted to clear this section first. With its open spaces and the collapsed outer wall, it would be our Plan B in case we had to leave in a hurry and couldn’t get out through the store entrance.
Rows of fishing boats sat in mish mashed rows on the floor, tossed and blackened by a surge of heat that must’ve hit the entire west side of the building. The bomb blast had been enough to break out all the glass. The sprinkler system must’ve still been working at the time of the bombing, as only the edge of the store had burned.
Deadland Saga (Book 3): Deadland Rising Page 1