100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(23)

“Why don’t you get some sleep,” I offered. “I can work on whatever you need today. Once Jase is up, I can start getting him up to speed.”

We sat in silence for a moment, before he nodded. “Move everything from the back of the truck to the office and sort it. I grabbed whatever shit I could, but there’s got to be a lot more to grab at the surplus warehouse out of town.”

“You bet,” I answered, popping to my feet.

He nodded, rubbed his stubble, and then stood and moved slowly and stiffly up the stairs. He paused. “Be careful out there, Cash. Zeds will start drifting through these parts in bigger numbers soon. I saw three on this road yesterday.”

“I’ll keep on the lookout.”

Ten minutes later, I had rubber gloves on and checked out the SUV, while keeping a constant watch for zeds. Fortunately, the vehicle had leather seats, making it easier to clean. Jase had put Betsy on the passenger floor mat, so I threw it out. After scrubbing down everything with bleach and disinfectant, I grabbed a wheelbarrow and went to the backyard to where I’d killed the zed last night.

With most of his head gone, it was impossible to tell its age, but by the filthy coveralls and flannel shirt, I’d guessed it had been a nearby farmer. Spring winds buffeted me today, but at least the zed was downwind so I didn’t have to smell its rankness. After dumping the body into the fire pit and tossing the rubber gloves on top, I poured some gasoline over the corpse and felt pride when I tossed the lit match. I hadn’t freaked out. I’d protected the house. For the first time since this cluster f*ck started, I felt like I had a shot at surviving in this new world.

I ran a hand through my short hair. Already I was glad I’d cut it, for more reasons than to eliminate the risk of zeds grabbing at it. The winds would’ve turned it into a snarled mess by now, and I no longer had to deal with the hassle of hair in my eyes.

After the fire charred the zed, I cleaned out the SUV, dumping everything into the mudroom. From there, I headed to the truck. When Clutch said he’d loaded up everything he could, he wasn’t exaggerating. Both the bed and backseat were piled full of tan, green, and black gear.

It bothered me that he had put himself in danger. He had gone on a looting run, with no lookout, no backup, because he couldn’t count on me. Never again.

On my tenth or so trip, Jase joined me. He was still wearing the long johns and T-shirt from last night. He was moving slowly, looking around like a lost lamb. He’d pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from a bag I’d carried in from his SUV.

“Hold up,” I called out and closed the distance and handed him the armful of duffels and other things. “Take this to the office. It’s past the kitchen and to your right. Then, once you change into your clothes, help me unload the rest of the truck.”

“My shoes—”

“Are now melted rubber,” I said. “Go through the gear in the office. There might be some boots to fit you. Otherwise, we’ll grab shoes from your house.”

At the mention of his house, his face fell. Jase was quite a bit taller than me, but in his face, he was still a boy, a boy who’d seen far too much. I hadn’t really thought about how bad he’d had it since yesterday. I grabbed the armful back from him and set it on top of a box. “Let me see your wrists.”

He held them out. There were some faint pink lines, but it was obvious he hadn’t struggled.

“I’m sorry about having to do that. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Did you have breakfast yet?”

He shrugged.

I cocked my head. “What did you have?”

He jutted out his chin. “I had some chips.”

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I’ll make you something. You’re going to need your energy. I plan to keep you busy.”

He muttered something but obeyed. I washed up and cooked up the rest of the eggs and toast. It was already ten in the morning. I figured it would get him through until lunch at least. “Clutch was out all night and is sleeping in, so keep it down. Once you change clothes, you can help me finish unloading.”

He slid the eggs between the slices of toast and squeezed the sandwich together. “Sure thing, Cash.”

I ruffled his hair, and he wrinkled his nose.

I smiled. “I think we’ll get along all right.”

Several dozen trips later, Jase and I had filled the small space of the office with surplus gear and had sorted out the groceries, toilet paper, and other odds and ends from the SUV.

We spent the next two hours quietly sorting all the gear into piles. Clothing by size, bags by type, cots, and everything else in piles of similar items. I even made a pile of my own stuff. Cargo pants with large pockets, button-down camo shirts made of not-so-soft hearty canvas, black sports bras, olive drab tank tops, a heavy-duty rain jacket, a thick winter coat, a tactical belt, and two pair of boots. My old Doc Martens had held up great so far, but the abuse was already starting to show.

I changed in the mudroom. It felt good to wear something in my size. The knife and gun sat more comfortably against my waist on the smaller belt. For the first time in a long time, I felt a genuine smile.

I went back to find Jase, and he started chuckling. “You look like G. I. Jane.”

“Looks who’s talking. You look pretty badass yourself. OD looks good on you.” He’d already changed out of his clothes and into fatigues, changing his look from high schooler to soldier in the blink of an eye. He still had a youthful face, but the clothes infused him with confidence that I hadn’t seen this morning.