100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(21)
“You can grab them in the morning,” I said, still holding out the bag.
In went his T-shirt, then his jeans and socks, and I looked him over for bites. Other than some bruises and a few scratches, he looked unharmed. But the scratches worried me.
When he went to pull his boxers off, I stopped him. “If there’s no blood on them, toss them into the washer in the mudroom on your way in. The shower is on the second floor. I’ll grab some clothes for you, and set them outside the bathroom door for you.”
“Thanks, Cash,” he said and I moved to let him in.
“And be sure to scrub good and hard.” After a moment, it hit me that I’d just echoed words Clutch had told me the first night.
While Jase showered, I set three steaks under the broiler, skipping the sides. I was simply too hungry and too tired to go to the effort. I jogged upstairs and stopped outside Clutch’s bedroom door. I reached for the handle but paused. I’d never been in there, and it felt almost like I’d breach some unspoken rule by stepping inside.
Instead, I turned and headed into my room and grabbed a pair of long johns and a T-shirt from my pile. They’d fit Jase better than they fit me and would get him through the night. Dropping the clothes at the bathroom door, I hustled back downstairs and finished cooking the steaks.
I wrapped Clutch’s steak in tinfoil and set it in the refrigerator. Each of the remaining steaks went on a plate. Just like Clutch had done, I drizzled steak sauce over each steak and grabbed a bag of potato chips.
Jase came down the stairs. “I’m not very hungry tonight.”
I dumped some chips on both plates, and handed him a plate. “Eat. You need to keep your energy up.”
He followed me like a lost puppy into the living room, much like I’d felt four days earlier. I took an edge of the couch and motioned for Jase to sit. I wolfed my steak down while he pecked at his. After cleaning off my plate, I grabbed a beer. I’d almost grabbed two but changed my mind and poured a glass of water instead for Jase. After a quick stop in Clutch’s office for something I’d need later, I scanned through the TV and radio stations but came across nothing but static.
Clutch had left his phone at home, and I sent an email to my parents. Even though I suspected no one was left to read them, I kept writing them. I needed to send the email as much as I hoped my parents read them. By the time I sent the email, Jase had finished his dinner. He looked out of place, and I wondered if I’d looked that insecure when Clutch took me in. “Let’s get you to bed,” I said, coming to my feet.
That it wasn’t yet nine and Jase didn’t object was a clear sign the kid was beat. He followed me up to my room. Instead of turning on the light, I said, “Now that the sun has set, don’t use lights upstairs. We don’t have the windows upstairs boarded, and the light is too easy to see from a distance.”
“Okay,” Jase said as he felt out the dark room.
Even though he didn’t act sick, I knew what I needed to do. I pulled out the zip ties I’d picked up in the office. “Listen, Jase…”
He turned around, noticed the plastic. His eyes widened and he took a step back.
I sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, but it’s a necessary precaution until we have this whole zed virus figured out. If you turn, and I’m asleep, well, you see what I’m saying. We both know you’re bigger and probably stronger than me. If you fight, I won’t be able to get these on you. So I’m asking you…please let me tie your ankles and wrists. It’s only for tonight and it’s just a minor discomfort. Come morning, if you’re healthy, the ties will come off. Will you do that for me, Jase?”
After a moment, he nodded and then took small steps toward me. He gave me his back, and I strung the restraint around his wrists, careful to not make them too tight but making sure they would do the trick. I went to the bed and pulled back the blankets. Jase laid down in an almost robotic manner, and I pulled the strap around his ankles.
Stepping back, I tried to smile. “I know it’s not comfortable, but it’s only for one night. Try not to think about it.”
“It’s okay,” he said, rolling to his side. “I get it.”
I patted his back. “You’re a good kid, Jase.”
“I’m not a kid,” he muttered.
Sadness pricked at my heart. “No, you’re not.” Not after today.
I locked his door, and headed downstairs. I cleaned the mudroom and headed back inside, leaving the SUV and everything inside for tomorrow. At eleven, after a hot shower, I locked the door, figuring I’d hear Clutch drive in. I curled up on the sofa and passed out within seconds.
I was dreaming of cans rattling when something niggled at my subconscious, a warning percolating to the surface.
Cans rattling…
I shot awake.
The sound of tin banging against tin continued. I jumped up from the sofa and grabbed my belt with the .22 and knife strapped on and was ready to go. That the cans still rattled was an ominous sign that a shitload of zeds was passing through.
Once I pinpointed the direction the sound was coming from, I opened the window. From the outside, the window was completely covered by wood two-by-sixes, except for small sniper holes covered by plywood sliders.
With a clear night sky and a full moon, the yard was brighter than the living room, and I sighed in relief. Only one adult zed. It was hard to make out any more details in the dark at this distance. Sure enough, the dumb bastard had snagged the tripwire and was now dragging a line of cans as it lumbered across the yard.