Deadland's Harvest (Deadland Saga, #2)(85)

The New Eden soldiers fired .30 cal rounds back at the bandits, but the sounds of gunfire were growing less and less frequent. Either they were running out of ammo or they were running out of people. Artillery and grenade blasts rang in my ears.

I looked at Clutch to find him staring at the burning wreckage. Slowly, his jaw clamped shut and his eyes and lips narrowed. He maneuvered the .30 cal and began firing relentlessly at the bandits. The sudden sense of loss was blanketed by adrenaline-infused anger. “Kill them all,” I ordered, though my words were drowned out by machine gun fire.

Clutch turned to me. “I’m out.”

I looked around. The store behind us had become a massive fire. The soldiers who had been around back came running around the store, and were gunned down as soon as they appeared. I twisted to find the source and then saw the bandit who’d given Clutch a black eye standing behind one of New Eden’s .30 cals. The Humvee took off, and I saw Hodge in the driver’s seat.

I jumped up onto the roof of the Humvee and took aim. I didn’t account for their speed properly, and my first shot missed. My second clipped the bandit’s neck, and he fell off the back. It’d been awhile since I’d killed a man, but the fact didn’t faze me. In fact, I found pleasure watching the blood spray from his neck.

I aimed at Hodge, but he turned sharply, and I couldn’t get a clear shot. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped onto the road. I fired off three shots, but I doubted any found their target. Even if we took off after him in our Humvee, we’d likely never catch up in time. So, Clutch and I watched helplessly as the bastard drove off.

When he disappeared behind the trees, I noticed that there were no more sounds of gunfire. Fires crackled everywhere, and I heard someone calling for help.

Unlike massive climatic scenes in movies where the bad guy got his due, this battle had simply…ended.

My ears were ringing, and my adrenaline numbed my nerves. I stared off at the burning HEMTT. Across the parking lot, no one was walking. There were bodies everywhere, but no one was standing. There was no one left except us.

“We’re all that’s left,” I said emotionlessly, though I knew my emotions were still in there, too beaten down by hopelessness to dare rise. “There’s no one left.”


Clutch wrapped an arm around me and I found myself holding onto him like he was my lifeline. “We have each other.”





Chapter XXXIII


Our first pass through the aftermath was search and rescue. Out of all the Camp Fox survivors, New Eden soldiers, and bandits, we found only one person who wasn’t dead or near-death. Marco, a soldier from New Eden, had taken a shot to his helmet and had been knocked out cold. When he woke, it took him some time to come to grips with the loss of his entire squadron. For the first few minutes, he moved restlessly around, counting vehicles and searching for his squadron. When he finally realized they were all there and he was the only one left standing, he collapsed.

Once Marco came to terms with reality, Clutch asked him several questions while I sat and stared at the fires. The HEMTT continued to smoke, but no more flames licked out from the vehicle. I could only imagine the smell of so many dead inside. I tried not to think about any of the bodies belonging to someone I cared about. There’d be too much time for thinking later.

New Eden was a new super-city in Colorado formed by the military at Cheyenne Mountain. Dozens of squadrons just like Marco’s had been sent out with the sole mission to save any survivors they could after the herds passed through. On their mission, they’d run across a feudalistic, ruthless group called the Black Sheep that was quickly spreading across the Midwest. The bandits who’d taken us hostage were from that group, and Marco showed us the mark on one of the bandit’s body: a brand of a ram’s head with curled horns.

“At least we got all these guys,” Marco said. “If any got back to their captain, they’d likely come back at us with a vengeance.”

I shook my head. “No. Their leader got away.”

Marco’s face fell before fear widened his eyes. “He’ll bring back reinforcements.”

Clutch climbed to his feet. “We’ll be out of here long before then. But we should hurry and get wrapped up here, just in case.”

I looked up to see Clutch holding a hand out to me. I took it and he pulled me up and into an embrace. Strangely, I never cried, even knowing that I’d never see Jase again, or anyone from Camp Fox, again. It broke my heart, but my brain refused to process anything. It felt like I was on autopilot, and the circuit breaker to my emotions had been turned off, and I was thankful for that small mercy.

Later, as I walked around and inventoried the wreckage, Clutch and Marco collected dog tags and carried the dead of those we knew as close to the burning store as we could in hopes the fire would take care of them before the zeds found them. When we came to Tyler’s body, neither Clutch nor I could move. For the longest time, I simply stared at Tyler’s limp form. I noticed Clutch did the same. His lips quivered, then he sobered and we carried Tyler away from the burning building and laid him under a tree. Clutch walked back to a Humvee and returned with a shovel. As he started digging a hole, I also grabbed a shovel and helped.

The ground was soft, but it still took a while to dig a shallow grave. Clutch grabbed Tyler’s shoulders and I grabbed his legs and we lowered him as gently as possible. We stared down at Tyler’s peaceful, though bloodied, features.