Deadland's Harvest (Deadland Saga, #2)(79)

We parked in the open parking lot. Several snow-covered cars sat, but there were no fresh tire tracks or footprints in the snow. The glass entrance doors were shattered, leaving the building wide open. Joe and Bryce pulled their Humvee close to the entrance. They stepped out and after a minute of looking inside, they walked through the doors.

They emerged about fifteen minutes later. One pulled out his handheld radio, and Bryce’s voice came through. “All clear. Not a single zed on initial pass. The place looks to be cleared out of ammo and guns.” With the exception of Clutch’s handheld radio he’d had with him when we’d burned the bridge bastards, all the other handhelds were all still on board the Aurora, making Clutch’s a valuable commodity.

“Roger that,” Tyler responded. “All right everyone, we’re camping in here for the night. All scouts report to the front to make a full clearing pass. Everyone else, stay in your vehicles until I give the all-clear.”

The two gas trucks couldn’t get the same frequencies as the military vehicles, so Tyler stopped by each to relay his orders.

“That means we’re up,” Clutch said as he climbed down. We still had our rifles, but the scouts off duty when the fire broke out on the Aurora couldn’t get to their rifles in time. Many still had their machetes and swords, but were at a definite disadvantage if shit hit the fan now.

I grabbed my rifle and stepped outside. My boots left sooty prints in the snow. When Clutch joined my side, we headed slowly toward Tyler.

Scouts now made up about half of Camp Fox. Before the fire, three out of every four Fox survivors were scouts, and nearly all were Guardsman. Manpower had been Fox’s greatest strength. But when civilians ran out during the fire, many scouts ran in to save who and what they could. So many had been lost. Camp Fox wouldn’t intimidate any enemy now.

As we approached the huge store, I noticed the pile of burnt bodies near the building. Still covered with snow, I could only assume—and hope—they were zeds. I stepped through the doors. Glass crunched under my boots.

Inside, we walked under a ceiling of antlers that led to a wide-open space of clothes and merchandise. Much of it had been knocked over and shoved into piles. “Spread out,” Tyler said. “Stay in pairs and yell if you come across a tango.” He pointed to each team and then in a direction for them to head. After he motioned for us to head toward the boat section, Clutch and I started walking.

As we searched our section, I couldn’t help but admire the rows of new boats and jet skis. “This place is a goldmine.”

“I agree. There’s plenty of gear still here that we can use,” he said. “But I’d bet any food is as far gone as the ammo. We’d better find something for everyone by tomorrow or else their moods are going to turn shitty.”

“Shittier, you mean,” I said with a smirk, and we continued our search.

After making sure the store was absolutely, positively clear of zeds, Camp Fox was reestablished for the night in the hunting area toward the back of the store. The entrance was blocked off with a Humvee.

As people settled in new clothes and sleeping bags, Tyler tried to reach Griz and Jase on the handheld, but the signal was weak in the building. He decided it wasn’t worth the risk of going outside after dark, and set up his sleeping pad and bag next to the wall.

“Do you want Clutch and me to go check on them?” I asked hopefully. The idea of being safe and comfortable while Jase and Griz was who-knew-where and caught up in who-knew-what seemed like a betrayal, and the guilt was eating at me.

Tyler didn’t look up. “No. Get some rest.”

“They might be looking for us.”

“We need to keep everyone as centrally located as possible. I can’t risk sending out scouts at night. I’ll try to reach them again in the morning.”

I never moved and watched him for a moment. He had his hands in his pocket and he seemed to be staring off into nowhere, though his jaw was clenched tight. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I stood there for another long moment and finally sighed. “Okay. Sleep tight.”

I started to walk away, but then Tyler said something I couldn’t hear.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He nearly collapsed as he sat down. He rubbed his temples before looking up. “I screwed up.”

I frowned and took a seat next to him. I placed a hand on his shoulder. “How so?”

“The fire.” He leaned back against the wall. “It’s my fault.”

Confused, I cocked my head. “How is it your fault? The plan was solid. No one knew the bridge wouldn’t hold.”

“I ordered the mission. It’s my fault.”

Clutch, who’d just walked up, handed Tyler and me each a plastic bottle with a price tag still on it. “Water,” he said. “It may still have a bit of charcoal taste, but it’s okay to drink.”

“Thanks,” I said and waited for Tyler to continue. When he didn’t, I did. “Someone had to take charge on the Aurora or else we would’ve kept debating until it was too late. You may have ordered the mission, but I volunteered for it. If you’re looking for blame, it falls on every single person in this room. We’re all in this together. Wins, losses, they belong to all of us.”

Tyler’s lips pursed and he looked off to the side.