100-Days-in-Deadland(106)

Jase turned to the shed. “C’mon, Mutt. It’s all clear.”

Mutt peeked from the shadows, and then trotted over to brush against her master. He handed her an apple.

“She’s quite the fighter,” I said.

Jase shrugged. “She’s more of a lover than a fighter.”

The coyote preferred to keep her distance from zeds. I remembered that feeling. While I still hated zeds, I no longer froze in terror when I saw one. Maybe I was numb to the violence, but I could kill without feeling a single pang of guilt. Sometimes, when I spent too much time thinking, I wondered if we hadn’t reached the end of the world but that we’d reached the end of humanity.

Something hit my head, and I jerked around to find Jase pulling back to throw another apple at me.

“Nice. Real nice,” I muttered and picked up the apple and stepped out of the way as Clutch backed the truck up to the tree. I hopped onto the bed and started plucking ripe apples from the tree.

Jase joined me and we plucked several bushels of fresh apples while Clutch stood watch. Jase said Mutt was on guard duty, too, though with the way the coyote was sprawled out in the sunshine, I found that hard to believe.

On our way to the park, our work at the Camp done for now, we stopped at the gas station to grab more supplies. Several more zeds had meandered onto the lot, but they were easily dispatched. I’d forgotten how much easier looting was with three of us, rather than just two.

When Jase went to open the glass doors to the restaurant, I stopped. “Not there.”

The two kid zeds were nowhere in sight, but it still didn’t feel right. I’d never seen zeds retain any semblance of humanity, but this pair had seemed different. Maybe I’d let them get to me and my mind played tricks on me. They haunted my dreams. But that day, when we’d seen them, they’d showed no aggression. It had seriously freaked me out.

I didn’t tell Jase about them, and Clutch had simply nodded in agreement as he walked into the store and started clearing shelves.

I looked across the shelves, and hopelessness wrenched my heart. This gas station was an easy place to loot yet many of the shelves were still full, aside from what we’d taken the last time. Were there really so few people left?

Listless, I helped Clutch fill the large bags we’d brought. The only other sound was the zed still thumping against the bathroom door. We’d cleared out much of the store before I realized there were only two of us. “Where’s Jase?” I asked.

Clutch nodded toward the liquor section.

I rolled my eyes, and we headed into the section to find Jase with a nearly full cart.

“Not that,” Clutch said, grabbing the wine coolers from Jase’s hands. “If you’re going to drink, do it right.” He handed the kid a bottle of whiskey. I grabbed the remaining bottles of Everclear and vodka, but didn’t have any intention to drink it. Alcohol worked great for disinfecting wounds, starting fires, and especially cleaning zed goo off things.

I grabbed an armful of wine bottles. “We should get going,” I said. “I want to get unloaded before dark.”

Jase hurriedly grabbed a couple more bottles before heading out with us. Mutt waited in the back of the truck, chewing on an apple.

“Save some for us,” I called out.

The coyote raised her ears and then bit into another apple.

Clutch took a draw of whiskey before climbing in behind the wheel. Jase watched, grabbed a bottle, and took a drink. He coughed and bent over.

I patted his shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now.” I hopped into the truck and Jase climbed in the back several seconds later.

Clutch smirked. “You look a little green around the gills.”

“I’m. Fine,” he choked out.

“Give it time,” Clutch said. “It’ll get easier.”

And it did.

By sunset, Jase was drunk for the first time in his life, and we discovered he was a happy drunk, finding pretty much anything and everything funny. We sat in the park office, and the booze helped the MREs from Camp Fox taste better. And I had long since noticed that apples and wine paired beautifully together for dessert. Clutch was quiet, though he’d already put a hurting on his bottle of whiskey.

Still, it had been a nice night. The three of us together again and not running for our lives.

A couple hours later, we’d all passed out, though I awoke to the sounds of Clutch’s nightmares. They were even worse when he drank, and he drank often.