100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(10)

I paused.

“Be sure to scrub good and hard,” he called out behind me. “You’ve got bits of your boyfriend’s brain in your hair.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Once in the bathroom, I took deep breaths, refusing to look in the mirror. When I had control of myself again, I pulled off my remaining clothes in a rush, cranked on the shower, and hopped in before it was warm.

The cold water that ran down the drain was brown at first, with little flecks of things I didn’t want to think about. I set the water as hot as I could stand, grabbed the washcloth, and started scrubbing. Clutch clearly wasn’t married, because the shower/tub combo only had a bar of soap and a bottle of generic shampoo.

I washed my hair three times before I felt relatively confident that it was clean. And, I scrubbed at my skin until it was red, standing under the spray until it was lukewarm.

Stepping out, I grabbed the towel left out on top of a thin stack of clothes, and dried myself off. I caught my breath when I looked into the mirror. Dark circles underlined my bloodshot eyes. Fresh bruises marred my chest courtesy of Melanie. I looked like shit, plain and simple.

Picking up the clothes he’d left, I found a pair of white long john bottoms and a gray T-shirt with ARMY across the front. Both were huge on me. The shirt nearly went to my knees, and the bottoms slid down every time I moved. Sifting through the well-stocked medicine cabinet, I found a couple large safety pins and tightened the long johns around my waist.

I couldn’t find a brush, so it took ten painful minutes to finger-comb through my snarled, unconditioned mess. Finally, my strands began to resemble hair again, with its bold red streaks interlaced with the black. Reaching for the dental floss, I pulled out a long strand and used it to tie my hair back before it snarled all over again.

Glancing down at the discarded pile of underwear, I grimaced. I really didn’t want to touch anything that I’d worn today. I probably should’ve tossed it, but I went ahead and wrapped the towel around the tiny pile of undergarments and carried everything down to the washer in the mudroom.

I walked past the kitchen on my way to the mudroom, and saw Clutch pulling plates from a cabinet. His back was to me, though I had no doubt he knew I was there. His back was broad, like he worked out every day. He was well over twice my size. Part of me felt safer, part of me worried how easily he could overpower me.

My stomach growled loudly, and I hustled to the mudroom. After stuffing my dirty clothes in the washer along with Clutch’s clothes that were already in the tub, I went double-duty with the detergent, and started it up.

When I returned to the kitchen, he handed me a cold beer, silverware, and a plate covered with a huge steak, a baked potato, and steak sauce poured over the entire thing. He motioned to the living room. “I eat in there.” He grabbed his own beer and dinner, and I followed him, taking the couch when he claimed the recliner.

I dug in before opening the beer. I was thirsty, but I was even hungrier. With the plate on my lap, I sawed at the T-bone, cutting off the next piece while chewing on a piece twice the size I should’ve cut. “This is really good.”

My words were muffled as I chewed loudly, but Clutch seemed to make them out. “It sucks wasting a good T-bone on the stove, but I don’t know how long the grid will stay up. Figured I may as well clean out the freezer now.”

I swallowed, the steak going down painfully hard in my suddenly constricted throat. I cracked opened the beer and took a long swig. I hadn’t even thought about losing electricity. What else would give out? Water? Phone lines?

Stores would be closed, which meant no fresh food. My sudden reality made me set my fork down. “How long do you think it will be until the military makes it safe again?”

His left brow rose. “I think it’s already too late. The outbreak spread too fast and too hard. If we didn’t get out when we did today, I doubt we’d be talking tonight. You better start getting used to this way of life.”

“But the military—”

“Doesn’t stand a chance against millions of zeds,” he interrupted. “It’s a numbers game. The zeds are spreading too fast. There’s no way our guys can keep them in check. Not without nuking every populated area. And that would also take out any survivors.”

The next bite tasted like cardboard. And the one after that. If nearly everyone turned into a zed, there wouldn’t be anyone left to fight them. Even soldiers weren’t impervious to a zed’s bite if they were caught unaware or without ammo.

If I hadn’t hitched a ride with Clutch, I’d still be in Des Moines, surrounded by zeds right now. Out here, miles from any town, I was relatively safe. More important, I wasn’t in this alone. I looked up. “I have skills.” Not really. “I can help.” I have no idea how. “Give me one more day, and I’ll prove it.”

He shook his head and held up a finger. “The deal’s for one day.”

“An extra pair of eyes and an extra pair of hands can’t hurt. I can help,” I added.

“Do you know how to fire a gun? String a snare?”

“I can learn.”

“It would take you months to become proficient, even if you had the aptitude for it.” He leaned back. “You’ll only slow me down and eat my food.”

“Then I’ll go out and get us more food.”