100-Days-in-Deadland(47)

“I’m staying until you fall asleep.”

After several long seconds, he gave me his back. “Have it your way.”

I rested my head against the headboard and sat there in silence, waiting. I remembered when I’d had bad dreams as a kid, my dad would stay with me until I fell asleep. His presence chased away the imaginary monsters. I had no idea if it would help Clutch. His monsters were bigger and badder, but I couldn’t let him go on every night facing them alone.

After Clutch’s breathing became deep and regular, I crept from his room, grabbed another protein bar, and headed back outside. I had time to make another pass around the farm before the sky morphed from black to purple to orange. The world, for once, was at peace, and I savored watching the sun rise over the horizon.

Clutch emerged from the house looking refreshed, and we were ready to hit the road before the sun was fully over the horizon, with dew still creating sparkles on the grass. Jase limped outside to see us off, leaning on a tall stick for support, and armed to the teeth.

“I swear it, guys,” Jase said. “It doesn’t hurt bad. Take your time. I’ll cover the place today.”

Clutch nodded at Jase’s stick. “Then why are you still using your crutch?”

Jase pursed his lips.

Clutch narrowed his eyes. “The only way you’re staying behind is if you can shimmy up on the roof. That way, you can scan while you start replacing the busted shingles.”

Jase grinned. “Heck, yeah, I can do that.”

“Be sure to bring plenty of ammo with you. Watching for looters and zeds is more important than patching the roof,” Clutch added. He started to turn, then paused. “Oh, and use a mallet. I don’t want you drawing every zed in a ten-mile radius.”

Jase gave an enthusiastic nod. “You bet!” He grabbed his stick and hopped back into the house.

I smirked. “You were planning on letting him stay behind all along.”

He shrugged. “Ready?”

I held out my hand. “After you.”

With a fleeting smile, he headed toward the truck, and I followed.

On our drive, we came across a group of zeds feasting on a cow while the rest of the herd huddled together in the far corner of the pasture. I gripped my rifle tighter.

“We need to conserve our ammo,” Clutch said as though reading my thoughts. “They’re still a ways from the farm. Maybe they’ll keep moving on.”

“We should at least cut the fence,” I said. “Give the rest of the cattle a chance.”

He sighed before slowing to a stop. “We won’t be able to save all the livestock. The zeds will get to all of it eventually.”

“I know, but at least we can help these few.”

He jumped out and opened the back door and pulled out a bolt cutter. I got out and held my rifle at the ready. The fence was a simple barbed-wire, taking Clutch no more than four quick snips to open up a section for the cattle to escape should they find the gap. We were back on the road seconds later.

We saw a couple dozen more zeds, mostly alone or in pairs, walking aimlessly on roads and through fields. As we entered an older residential part of Fox Hills—what Jase named Chow Town after the Home Depot experience—the area was eerily quiet. With no people or cars, nothing moved except for the occasional zed.

“Where is everyone?” I asked softly.

Clutch didn’t reply, just kept on driving.

When he pulled in between two zeds meandering on the pavement and into the parking lot, I let out a sigh of relief. Mabel’s Garden Center was nothing near the size of Home Depot, meaning that there shouldn’t have been nearly as many people there when the outbreak hit.

Hopefully.

Still, my stomach was in knots.

I kept my fingers crossed that the remaining zeds in the area had already moved on to find food elsewhere. Clutch backed the truck up to the front doors, so we could load and then get away quickly. We moved silently from the truck, knowing that even though the area seemed relatively clear, zeds lurked everywhere.

He looked at me. “You can stay outside and stand guard if you want. I can cover the greenhouse.”

I pulled out the small axe and shook my head. “No. Let’s stick to the plan.”

We opened our doors at the same time. I scalped the first zed with a quick strike to its temple, and it fell lifelessly to the ground. I turned to see Clutch standing over a dead zed.

We walked up to the front glass doors and looked inside. A cashier still hovered at his cash register. With an axe in one hand and the machete in another, Clutch rapped on the glass, and the zed turned around. Its empty gaze leveled hungrily on us, and it stumbled forward. Another one emerged from an aisle. It had been an older woman, still wearing gardening gloves, and she’d been badly chewed upon. A third, another employee, headed toward the doors.