Deadland's Harves(51)

I looked through the scope of my rifle. I counted fourteen vehicles in all. With the exception of a sports car for our scout vehicle, the other vehicles were all heavy duty: HEMTTs, Humvees, SUVs, trucks—one stacked with crates full of chickens—and a large semi pulling a trailer full of cattle, hogs, and goats. That the vehicles looked unscathed, coupled with the fact that they were slightly ahead of schedule, meant their journey was—hopefully—casualty-free. I continued to watch the vehicles, searching for signs of damage or injuries to their occupants.

Clutch sat in the passenger seat of the first Humvee. He was wearing sunglasses, and his arm rested on the doorframe, his window open. I slung my rifle onto my shoulder and gave Jase a wide grin. “Everything looks good. I see Clutch in front.”

He returned my smile and let out a deep breath. “Good. I was hoping we hadn’t stirred up any herds on our way over. I’ll go tell the others.” He jogged to the galley and toward the engine room where Wes and two of Sorenson’s people were finishing repairs. The Lady Amore had stopped by yesterday, and Sorenson had left three of his people, including his daughter, to help us get up and running. Their help and expertise were invaluable. His daughter, Nikki, had been born with sea legs, and she had a salty demeanor that came from spending most of her life on the river. She had been the one to get the engines running. Over the last twenty-four hours, we’d completed far more than we could’ve done with everyone from Camp Fox combined.

Not that Sorenson had done all that out of the goodness of his heart. The new world was built on bartering, and he was one of the best at it. For three of his people to stay two days, Tyler gave him two pallets of MREs, which cut our MRE supply in half. Sorenson had delivered two more pontoons in exchange for the .30 cal on the back of Tyler’s Humvee. I told Tyler he was being too generous, but he believed it was more important to get the towboat and barges set up to sustain Camp Fox.

If we had to stay the full winter on the Aurora or took on any more survivors, we didn’t have a single ration to spare. Tyler counted on any remaining zeds in the area to clear out and migrate with the herds, leaving the Midwest free for us to get what we needed from the bigger stores in towns. I didn’t have as much confidence. I knew for a fact that some buildings had quite a few zeds penned inside. I wasn’t looking forward to finding out which buildings those were.

“Shit. Is the entire group soldiers?” Nikki Sorenson asked at my side.

I started, not realizing she’d come up behind me. I looked at the now-stopped convoy on the east bank, where people were getting out and stretching, including Manny. Until Manny and his people had arrived, Camp Fox only had about ten civilians, the rest being soldiers—mostly Guardsmen. It hadn’t always been that way. After the outbreak, there had been well over a hundred non-military residents at Camp Fox. Doyle’s attack on Camp Fox had changed all that. The head of the militia had attacked when nearly all the soldiers were fixing the camp’s perimeter. No one had ever expected the attack to come from inside the base. The camp’s population had been decimated, and I’d almost lost Clutch.

Only forty-two survivors had made it to the Fox National Park to rebuild Camp Fox. Even with stragglers coming in every week, soldiers outnumbered civvies three to one. I think that was part of the reason why Tyler and Griz were overly protective of Jase and me. They still saw us as civvies rather than soldiers.

“Most are, I guess,” I said finally.

From this distance, even most civvies could pass as soldiers. Many of the Fox survivors, including myself, wore desert tan or olive drab from Camp Fox’s supply rooms as it was our most abundant source of durable clothing.

“Must be nice to have that kind of protection,” she said, her tone caustic.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so, but it’s not like we’re not pulling our own weight. We all look after each other in some way.”

Jase emerged from the galley and headed our way. “Wes says they’re nearly done down there. We’ll have power tonight, but there’s not much diesel fuel left for the engines. We’re going to have to go on a fuel run soon.”

“Ha. Good luck with that,” Nikki said. “There’s no diesel fuel along this river for fifty miles in either direction. You’ll have to go onto dry land to find any.”

“We’ll find some,” I said.

“As long as you’re not taking what the Lady Amore needs,” she quickly added.

My brows rose. “We’re not competing. We’re all in this together.”