Deadland's Harvest (Deadland Saga, #2)(37)

I squinted at the boat a couple thousand meters away. “Sorensen seemed to think there wouldn’t be much of a crew on that small of boat. It should be an easy in-and-out.”

“Except it’s going to be dark in just a couple hours,” Jase said.

“We’ll park over there. On the slope under the bridge on the east bank looks like a good spot,” Tyler said, pointing to an outcropping not far from the pontoon.

“That’s got to be a thirty-degree incline,” I said.

Griz chuckled. “It won’t be a problem. Humvees can handle over forty degrees.”

“Let’s get them down there,” Tyler said. “Time’s a wasting.”

The guys spent the next half hour hiding the Humvees and loading all the ammo, food and tools they could onto the pontoon. It sat low in the water, and there was still more in the Humvees. While they all worked as quickly as they could, I stood behind the .30 cal and scanned for danger, even though the area was rural and no zeds showed up. The only benefit of having less upper body strength was that I always got the easier job of keeping them covered while they hauled supplies. They could carry more and faster than I could.

Tyler wiped his hands on his cargos. “That’s all that we can get on this trip.” He waved to me, and I jumped down and met up with the men by the pontoon.

“I’ll get the ropes,” Jase said as he started to untie the yellow ropes that held the boat to the ramp.

Tyler looked back at the motor and climbed into the captain’s seat. “It’s been awhile since I’ve driven one of these things.”

Having no experience with boats, I grabbed a seat across from Wes and near Griz, who held his rifle ready at the helm. Tack did the same at the back of the boat.

Tyler started the engine and looked up. “Okay, Jase.”

Jase loosened the first rope and then the second. He jumped on board and climbed on top a crate full of tools.

Tyler revved the engine, and the pontoon slowly pulled away from the ramp. The boat swayed in the rough water. As we moved into deeper water, waves lapped at the sides, and I was forced to hold on so I wouldn’t get knocked around.

“It’s bumpy out here today,” Wes said, stating the obvious.

I sat there and focused on the distance closing between us and the white towboat with Aurora II painted on the side. I wondered how many zeds were in the river, either buried in the murky bottom or floating just under the surface.

“Does anyone see a good place to tie up?” Tyler asked as he brought the boat around the backside of the Aurora so that no one could see our pontoon from the bridge, making us safer from bandits.

Jase stood on the crate, which was an impressive feat in the rough water. He pointed to the hull. “I might be able to get a hold right up here.”

“It won’t take long to get a basic dock built,” Wes said. He’d been a handyman before the outbreak, so Tyler had considered him critical to have on this mission. The rest of us were Wes’s manual labor. At least the guys were. My job was to squeeze into small spaces, to do tasks like looking for broken cables, if needed. I didn’t enjoy my job, but someone had to do it, and I was the smallest of all the scouts.

Tyler throttled all the way back just before we bumped up alongside the hull of the Aurora. The deck of the towboat was nearly ten feet high in the water. Sorenson was right. As long as we were careful, it’d be a good place to hide during the zed migration.

We were all pitched forward as the front of the pontoon slid up against the sand. I looked over the side and saw something bloated with scraps of clothes floating just below the surface. “Possible eater here,” I said. I poked at it with my machete. A chewed up hand rose to the surface, but the zed’s most dangerous feature—its mouth—remained underwater. I swapped my machete for my knife and slammed the blade through the zed’s skull. I rinsed the blade in the water and reclaimed my seat. “Nothing to worry about.”

We all scrambled to grab ahold of the towboat’s hull to steady the pontoon. Jase hopped up and lassoed the towboat’s railing. Tack, Nate, and Griz climbed off the pontoon and onto the beach. While Tack helped Jase secure the pontoon to a fallen tree, I jumped off and watched the woods. Wes joined me a few seconds later while Tyler stayed on board at the wheel.

“This island looks pretty empty,” Wes said. “There’s nothing here but trees and a shipwreck.”


Of course, at that moment I saw movement in the trees. “Way to jinx us.” I slung my rifle over my shoulder and pulled out my machete. I walked toward the tree, careful to make sure nothing else waited in the shadows. The zed that emerged was ugly—horrendously ugly—bloated with river water and weathered. Its balding head was the only thing that hinted at its gender when it’d been infected. It came toward me, arms outreached, as though it wanted to embrace me. It moved slowly and stiffly. I swung and took the top of its head off. It collapsed, and I immediately looked for more.

When no more zeds emerged, I headed back to the small beach to put space between the trees and me. By then, Jase had the pontoon securely tied to the towboat, and Tyler was checking his rifle. A pile of grain had poured out of one of the barges that had crashed onto the island. “I wonder if all the barges are full of grain,” I thought aloud.

Tyler glanced up, and his brow lifted. “We can only hope.”