100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(31)

“The bike’s at your house now?” Clutch asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because a bike is the perfect vehicle for us to scout the farm and surrounding area. We’ll pick it up on our way back. Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of motocross practice in.” He sighed as he turned into the large parking lot. “Add the bike to our ever-growing to-do list.”

Jase gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cars.”

“Are you sure there’s nowhere else that might have roofing supplies?” I asked.

Clutch grimaced. “’Fraid not.”

He pulled into an open area toward the back of the parking lot. If zeds came at us, the one thing we had on them was speed. Having the truck at a distance from the store could be a lifesaver when it came to putting space between us and hungry zeds.

We checked our gear and weapons. We left the Kevlar vests at home since they were heavy and zeds tended to go for the face or extremities. With the black Kevlar helmets and gloves, we looked like Special Forces, but I felt nothing like an experienced soldier.

Clutch looked at both of us. “All right, we’ve got to be smart about this. No f*ck-ups. We get what we need, then we’re out of there. The other supplies in there aren’t worth the risk, not until we know the place is cleared out. We go in silent and we stick together. We know zeds hunt off their senses, so we move slow and silent. Always keep a direct line to the exit. If either of you screw up, I might decide to leave your ass behind. Got it?”

Both Jase and I nodded.

Clutch left the keys in the ignition in case we needed to make a quick getaway, or, worse, in case he didn’t leave the store with us. “Let’s do this. Exactly as I taught you. Follow my lead. Silence from here on out,” he said and opened the door.

I gripped the crowbar. We moved as a trio of dark-colored shapes slowly through the parking lot. I’d expected that we’d have to take out a couple zeds in the parking lot, but nothing emerged from around the cars. Not a good sign. Because the owners of those cars had to be somewhere.

We flattened against the wall on either side of the wide glass entrance, and Clutch bent around to scan the area. He frowned and led us down the sidewalk to the exit door. He scanned the interior longer this time before finally nodding. Forcing myself to breathe, I stepped next to Clutch, holding the crowbar up. The sliding door didn’t automatically open. Just as we’d expected, the power grid for the entire area was down. Clutch pulled at the door while I stood ready to knock back any zed that may attack. Jase stood at our backs, a rifle slung on his back and a long wood-handled axe in his hands.

Clutch pried the door open just enough for us to squeeze through one at a time. Clutch went in first. Once through, he crouched and flattened himself against one of the checkout counters. He held his machete out while he checked the area behind him.

When he gave us the all-clear, I went in next, moving exactly as Clutch had done. When Jase reached me, he tapped my left shoulder. Ready. I did the same to Clutch’s shoulder, just like how he’d made us practice.

Clutch moved to the edge of the counter and looked left and right. After making a quick hand motion, he crossed the aisle, keeping slow and low, until he flattened against the other side. I moved but abruptly pulled back when I saw a zed in the aisle, sniffing at the air. Taking a breath, I waited until it faced the other direction, and I crossed the aisle. Jase followed.

We continued this process, avoiding zeds and following Clutch, as we moved deep into the belly of the store. For the number of cars outside, there were surprisingly few zeds meandering around, which made me wonder exactly where all the drivers to those cars had gone.

Clutch clearly frequented this store because he led us to the aisle we needed without any wrong turns or detours except to bypass zeds. I opened the duffel, and he slid in several heavy stacks of shingles. Jase stayed at my back and scanned the entire time.

“Uh, guys?” Jase whispered.

I glanced up to see a zed come around the corner and into our aisle. It’d been badly gnawed. One of its arms was nothing but white bone and stringy sinew. We didn’t move, hoping it wouldn’t see us.

We weren’t that lucky.

It only took a couple seconds for the zed to sniff the air and home in on us. It moaned and stumbled toward us. It’s like a f*cking bloodhound, I thought to myself. Clutch stood, walked right up to it, and swung, his machete taking off the top of the zed’s head with a single powerful slice. The zed collapsed, and he caught the body just before it hit the floor and laid it down quietly.

He returned and grabbed the duffel as though nothing happened. On our way out, we nearly walked into a small group of zeds and were forced to backtrack. As we neared another aisle, Jase nudged me. “Look,” he whispered and pointed at a glass display case.

My mouth opened, and I tugged Clutch and then pointed.

He saw the display case, looked around, and then headed toward it. On proud display behind the glass was a little piece of heaven. Small camping axes, knives of all sizes, and the Cadillac—black machetes. While Clutch’s arsenal of rifles and pistols was impressive, he had few blades, with the exception of a machete and a wood axe, his blades were knives.

He felt around the back of the display case, then around the edges. When the glass didn’t slide open, he grabbed Jase’s axe.

“It’s locked. Get ready to move fast,” Clutch whispered. “Know what you want, and grab it. Don’t try for everything. We head straight to the truck two seconds after this breaks.”