Deadland's Harvest (Deadland Saga, #2)(45)
I tripped over Clutch’s chair and barely caught myself from tumbling over him. “Oomph. Sorry,” I muttered.
“Graceful,” Jase teased with a grin, his white teeth easily seen in the starlit night.
With a sigh, I saw the large, rectangular-shaped barges in the night sky. The general residence had been set up in Number One, the barge closest to the island and in the row of the four closest to the towboat, making it the safest barge from any bandits who might come across the highway bridge and notice us. Makeshift wood plank bridges had been built from the towboat to each barge. None of the barges were cozy by any stretch, but they would work.
Next to One, Number Two was our commons area. Numbers Two and Three were the easiest to get to from the towboat for a reason. As we crossed the manmade bridge of two-by-sixes to Number Three, Clutch’s wheelchair made a nearly-silent rolling sound over the wood, while Jase’s and my boot steps made thumps in the night.
Number Three held all our stockpile of canned and dried food, weapons, and other supplies. It was our own Fort Knox, making it critical that we could get to it easily from the towboat. To its right, the livestock was set up in Number Four, the barge facing the highway bridge. Cattle mooed softly in the night air. If the livestock were any closer, people would constantly complain about the smell.
The second row of barges wasn’t used except for storing grain. Number Five, on just the other side of Number One, had hit the island at the wrong angle, and its hull had been compromised. Grain had dumped out onto the ground. The remaining three viable barges were full of precious grain. When we’d discovered it yesterday, we danced like maniacs and whooped like fools. For the first time, we knew with confidence that we’d get through the winter, let alone spring and summer, without starving. We’d get sick of grain and likely have some serious nutritional deficiencies, but we’d survive.
As we approached the wide opening to Three, our steps became softer and slower. I could hear nothing out of the ordinary. In the distance, Kurt waved before turning back to his guard duty. Wes had opened the bays to the first row of barges to air out the dangerous grain dust.
Jase looked down the narrow, metal stairway, pulled out his rifle, and clicked on his flashlight. “I’ll take lead.”
Clutch pulled up to the edge of the open bay. He set his crutches on the deck next to him and laid his rifle on his lap. “If either of you see anything suspicious, flash your lights in my direction.”
I pulled out my sidearm and snapped the small flashlight onto it. The Glock and all its accessories had been a surprise from Tyler for my birthday. I think it was his way to finally show that he wasn’t angry with me anymore for leaving him behind when I went after Doyle on my own. I peered into the darkness, my nerves making my senses hypersensitive. “It looks quiet down there. Knock on wood, everything will be just fine and we’ll be back in bed in no time.”
Clutch narrowed his eyes at me. After a moment, I shrugged and couldn’t help but smirk at his superstitious nature. He was a firm believer that if any of us said something would be easy, it was sure to have problems. Just because he was right most of the time only made the superstition a coincidence, not a fact.
Oh, and Clutch also didn’t believe in coincidences.
Jase gave me a slow shake of his head before taking the first step into the barge. I followed him down the steps, slowly scanning the floor and pallets with my mounted flashlight. Nothing seemed out of place. No tarps had been torn off. No supplies were scattered. The tension in my muscles eased. My imagination had been working overtime. Everything was fine. I’d been overreacting.
As I reached the last step, I could make out an almost imperceptible, powered hum, and I frowned. “Do you hear that?” I whispered.
Jase paused and looked at me and then did a three-sixty. “Yeah,” He replied just as quietly. “Sounds like it’s coming from that way.” He pointed with his flashlight and led us toward the long side of the barge.
Wes had gotten the engines running, but they weren’t running right now, and there were no generators running on this barge. Tyler had mandated we needed to save power until we found more fuel and the temperatures dipped below freezing. There were several small gas-powered generators spread across the barges to help with lighting, cooking, and plumbing, but there should be none in a barge being used only for storage. Yet, the noise grew as we drew closer.
“What the hell is a generator doing on down here?” Jase asked.
My eyes narrowed on a tarp against the wall. Unlike the other tarps that sat squarely over pallets, this one seemed misshapen and tight against the side of the hull. There, on the edges of the tarp, warm light bled through the edges of the tarp.
“I don’t like this.” I raised my Glock and turned the light on and off three times. A light from the deck above did the same back at us.
Jase turned off his light to have both hands on his rifle. Seconds later, I heard the sounds of boots pounding down the steps.
The tarp moved, and a masculine shape crawled out from under it. “Lay off. I said I’ll check it out.”
As he stood, I leveled the light in his eyes. “Don’t move!”
Philip from the Lady Amore held a hand over his eyes, and then spun around. “Run!”
The tarp was thrown open and two more shapes bolted out.
Jase stepped up to Philip and coldcocked him with the butt of his rifle. The man fell to the ground with a solid thud. The other two ran behind pallets, and we both took off after them.