100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(38)
“I’m thinking they prefer taking easier routes since they can’t get around as easily as us,” Clutch replied before disappearing up the stairs.
So far, most zeds we’d seen had stuck to open flatlands like roads, yards, and fields. But a few had stumbled through the woods already, so they certainly didn’t have an allergy to shrubbery.
I would’ve eaten faster, but my stomach was cramping from going nearly two days on only a protein bar, and I had to pace myself. At least I was wide awake. A near-coma was exactly what my body had needed. My muscles were amped. I wished it was morning already so that we could get started on looting the nearby farms. We’d been forced to put it off while we fortified the farm against looters. But we needed food and supplies. Even though winter was at least eight months away, we needed to hoard anything we could to prepare.
Running into zeds or looters was a chance we had to take.
“You were lucky you got back to the farm when you did,” Jase mumbled with a mouth full of food. “Clutch was packing up to head back into town for you. I wanted to come, but he said I had to stay back and hold down the fort.”
“He was an idiot,” I said. When I’d seen Clutch loading weapons into the truck, I’d already figured he wasn’t heading out for another solo looting run. Going anywhere after dark was a suicide run, especially to a particular elementary school. Clutch could’ve gotten himself killed for the infinitesimal chance that I was still alive. It was a f*cking miracle I’d gotten back to the house when I did. If he’d gone into town to look for me…if he hadn’t returned…
With a shiver, I came to my feet and headed into the kitchen to clean up, all the time praying that those thoughts would never become reality.
After I had my weapons strapped on, I stopped by the living room. “You need help getting upstairs?” I asked.
Jase looked up from the book he’d been reading and shook his head. “Nah. I’ll hang down here for a bit. I’m tired of being in bed.” He thumped the book down. “I hate being cooped up like this.”
“You’ll be back on your feet before you know it.” I gave him a quick wave and then headed outside. The sun had set, and I walked the perimeter around the house first. I’d always hated night-watch. Now, I had a whole new perspective. Even in the dark where zeds could lurk, I found the open space and fresh air a vast improvement over the school’s cramped air ducts.
The walk down the long lane, with trees lining both sides, seemed easier tonight. Sure, a zed could shuffle out from the darkness at any moment, but the idea didn’t terrify me as much as it had less than two days ago.
There was hardly a breeze, with every sound lingering in the air. My natural warning system of crickets chirping and frogs croaking was in full effect tonight. Insects and animals tended to go silent when zeds were around.
At the end of the lane, the gate stood solidly fastened to the barbed wire and chain link fence doubled up on both sides. I double-checked the locks. It was the only opening in the fence lining Clutch’s property along the roadside. We’d reinforced the old fence with reams of chain link we’d taken from Jase’s farm, but we needed much more to make it strong enough to hold back zeds and to build a secondary fence around the house.
A single human could climb easily over the fence or come through the woods, but with the deep ditches for Iowa winters, vehicles could enter the farm only through the gate. And, except for a couple trails, the woods surrounding the house served as a barrier against vehicles on three sides.
But the woods wouldn’t hold back zeds, not for long. Clutch owned a few hundred acres and with a fence only along the roadside, the other three sides were wide-open fields. If the zeds passed through in large groups, we’d have some serious problems on our hands.
I leaned on the metal gate, staring out at the star-studded sky. The stars were so much brighter here than in Des Moines…or at least when too many city lights clouded the nights. I guess the stars would shine just as brightly everywhere now.
A clear night and smooth air: it would’ve been a perfect night for a flight. God, I missed watching the sun set from the air.
Even more, I missed my parents. They lived in a residential area not far from downtown. Mom had diabetes and needed daily insulin shots. If they were still in town, they’d be surrounded by hundreds of thousands of zeds by now. The first week, I mentioned the idea of heading into Des Moines for them, but Clutch had said it was too dangerous. After seeing Fox Hills, a town point five percent the size of the Des Moines area filled with zeds, I couldn’t argue his logic.
My only regret was that I’d never even gotten the chance to say good-bye.
A rhythmic scraping sound off to my left drew my attention. Careful to avoid Clutch’s booby traps, I made my way down the fence line until the zed came into sight. A green John Deere hat hung crookedly on its head. It had been an older man, with short white hair peeking out from under the hat. Its facial features were impossible to make out since decay had already started to set in. It dragged one leg, its boot grating the gravel with each step in a monotonous rhythm.
Step.
Scrape.
Step.
Scrape.
The signature sound of a zed.
Once I made sure it didn’t have any friends, I stepped up to the fence. “Hey, f*cktard.”
The zed lifted its head, and sniffed in my direction. Even with yellowish pupils, it seemed to see fine because it moaned and shuffled its way straight toward me, stumbling while walking down the ditch. When it finally regained its footing and dragged itself up to the fence, I pulled out my machete.