100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(11)

“First time I take you with me, you’ll get bit, and then I’ll have to put you down.”

“I’ll be careful.” I jutted out my chin. “Besides, I killed a zed today.”

“Really?” The corners of his mouth curled upward. “And exactly how did you manage that?”

I thought for a moment. With sheer luck and a miracle. “With a ‘wet floor’ sign.”

He looked confused at first, then smirked, but shook it off. “You’ll be a drain. You’ll use up more resources than you could possibly bring in.”

“I’ll go get us whatever we need. If something happens to me, then you’ll be on your own again. It’s a no-lose situation for you.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Not good enough. I’m not set up here to take in strays.” He looked up, his gaze hard with resolve. “The deal was for one day. Come tomorrow, you’re on your own. I’ll get you to a car, but then we’re done.”

I wanted to argue. God, I wanted to beg him to change his mind. Instead, I looked down at my plate and gave a tight nod.

Clutch turned on the TV, and flipped through channels. It looked like nearly all the channels were offline. Only one news channel remained, and the reporter was giving updates on the major cities. With the TV as a backdrop, we finished the meal in silence.

When Clutch stood, I came to my feet. “Here,” I said, reaching for his plate. “I’ll clean up.”

He probably thought I was trying to show him how I could help, and he’d be right. He eyed me for a moment before holding out his plate. “I’ll secure outside. When you’re done, there are a couple plastic jugs I set out. Fill them with water.”

“But you’re out in the country,” I said. “Don’t you have well water?”

“I do,” he said. “But the pumps still need electricity. I have a manual pump outside that will still work if the power goes out, but that’s no reason to not be prepared in case it’s too dangerous to leave the house.”

“Oh.” I headed toward the kitchen and paused. I debated for a moment before asking, “Do you have a phone? I’d like to call my parents. They’re still in Des Moines.”

A flash of sympathy flashed on his face, and he pulled out a cell phone and set it on the side table. “I tried to make a call earlier but couldn’t get through. Phone lines are probably still choked.” The look on my face must’ve bothered him, because he added on, “But go ahead and give it a shot.”

“Thanks.”

He left without another word, and I went about cleaning up. After filling the five-gallon jugs, I sat on the couch and watched the cell phone still resting on the side table. I’d been putting off the call, afraid of having my worst fears confirmed. After cracking my knuckles, I grabbed the phone and punched in my parents’ number.

Call Failed.

Next, I tried to send a text message.

Message failed.

“Damn it,” I muttered, tossing the phone on the cushion next to me and leaning back, covering my eyes.

“No luck?”

I jumped at Clutch’s voice. “Service is still swamped. I’ll try again in the morning.”

He turned away.

“Need help with anything else?” I scanned the room, and my eyes fell on the windows. “I could help you board up the windows.”

He followed my gaze. “I’ll get to those tomorrow. I’m far enough out of town that as long as we keep dark and quiet, we should be okay for tonight. From what I’ve seen, zeds operate with minimal physical acuity. It won’t take much to defend this place against a few who find their way near the house.”

“I can help in the morning,” I offered hopefully. “Many hands make light work, you know.”

He watched me. “Get some sleep, Cash. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”


He turned and headed up the stairs. He didn’t say I was staying. But he also didn’t say I was leaving, and I clung onto that tiny splinter of hope.

“Why do you call me Cash?” I asked as I followed him upstairs.

“You were dressed like Johnny Cash when you jumped onto my truck.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment “I guess I do wear black a lot.” I glanced down at the oversized T-shirt and long johns. “But not always.”

Clutch showed me to the guest bedroom containing only an old dresser and a full-sized bed. No pictures hung on the wall. The bedding was flannel and, though dated, looked enticingly comfortable.

I pulled back the comforter and found myself shoved onto my stomach. Clutch’s weight bore down on me from behind. My face pressed against the mattress. I tried to fend him off, but he managed to pull my arms behind my back, and I heard the zip of a plastic cord as it tightened around my wrists.

“Fucking *!” I yelled out, kicking, while he all too easily did the same to my ankles.

“You keep going on like that, Cash,” he murmured from behind me. “We’re going to have zeds from a twenty-mile radius upon us.”

I quieted, kicking at him as he backed away. No matter what he had planned, I refused to go down without a fight. “Asshole,” I muttered.

Clutch pulled the comforter out from under me. I tried to roll off the bed, but he pulled me back and then, surprisingly, covered me with the blankets. He positioned the pillow under my head.