Текст книги "Deadland's Harvest"

Автор книги: Rachel Aukes

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter V

“Where’s Bill?” Clutch asked as Jase and I piled into the Cessna. I dumped my gear onto Jase’s lap and pulled the door closed.

A distant scream broke through the silence.

“He’s not coming,” Jase said as I started up the plane without taking the time to go through any checklist, let alone buckle my seat belt.

Clutch didn’t say anything else, but I could feel his eyes on me as I tried to smooth out the engine as quickly as I could. As soon as its rough grumble of fouling spark plugs cleared somewhat, I throttled full power and started my takeoff roll.

“A shitload of zeds coming in fast at our two o’clock,” Clutch said loudly at my side.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I muttered, pulling back on the yoke, trying to force the plane into the air. With the tanks only half full and one less passenger, the Cessna lifted off at the edge of the dorms. Zeds came running around the buildings and onto the street below. I leveled off my climb to build up speed just out of reach of the zeds below, because I didn’t want to risk stalling and losing what little lift I had.

Once I could manage a decent rate of climb, I looked down at the crowded street below. If we’d been five seconds later, zeds would’ve collided with the Cessna, and we never would’ve gotten off the ground. I let out the breath I’d held on takeoff. “That was close.”

Clutch craned his head to watch the scene below, and then turned to me.

I put my headset on, and he did the same.

“What the hell happened back there?” he asked.

“No one made it out of Marshall when the herds passed through,” I said.

“They were still at the student center,” Jase added.

His lips tightened and he looked over both of us. “You two okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“That was too close,” Jase said before sighing heavily into the headset.

After getting the plane set up on its heading back to Camp Fox, I turned on Jase’s music. No one spoke the entire flight back to the park. We passed over the herds again, as they chewed their slow but relentless path toward our home. One herd had stopped at a farm and had all of its buildings surrounded. I hated to think what they were after.

Poor Marshall had never stood a chance, and it’d had a hundred times the population of Camp Fox. The herds could eat right through us and barely slow down. Seeing what had happened at the student center made me realize one thing. We couldn’t defend the park against the herds like we’d done before. We had to run, and we had to do it soon. Because if we waited until the first herd was in sight, it’d be too late.

Clutch, Jase, and I could fly somewhere far enough north that we’d be safe easily enough, but I’d never be able to get the others out in time. Tyler, Tack, Griz…they’d all be doomed to certain death. No. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d stranded fifty or sixty people for execution.

I spent the rest of the flight trying to think of viable escape plans that included everyone and our livestock at the park and the only solution that came to mind was a tall building. But I quickly dismissed it as too risky. No skyscrapers existed anymore after all major cities had been bombed. If any had survived, they wouldn’t be structurally sound. As for tall buildings in smaller towns, most buildings wouldn’t be more than five floors high. Sure, a herd could likely not reach us on the top floor, but if they knew we were inside, they could have us surrounded until we all starved to death. Or, worse, eventually they’d climb over one another to get to us.

We needed a better option.

When the park came into sight, Clutch radioed Tyler. Clutch simply said, “Come out and meet us.”

I had no doubt it got the point across.

Sure enough, by the time we landed, Tyler was waiting for us. He watched from where he sat on the Humvee’s hood as I taxied to my usual parking space.

Tyler jumped down and started tying down the plane as soon as I cut the engine.

I opened my door, and Jase squeezed out from behind me. “I’ll get your chair, Clutch,” he said from outside before opening the baggage compartment and pulling out the folded wheelchair.

After checking everything, I grabbed Clutch’s and my gear and climbed out.

With Jase’s support, Clutch lifted himself out of the plane by holding onto the spar and lowered himself onto the chair. I handed him his rifle and backpack.

Tyler came over and scrutinized each of our faces. “Well?”

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. I searched for something to say, but nothing coherent formed. How could anyone describe what was headed our way? No one else spoke either, likely unable to find the words as well.

After a long pause, he clenched his fists and kicked at the ground. “Shit!” He took a deep breath and looked back up. “How bad is it?”

“Imagine your worst fucking nightmare times a million,” Clutch said bluntly.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jase said. “Huge herds. Each one has thousands and thousands of those things.”

Tyler was silent for a moment. “Do any pose a risk to the park?”

I swallowed. “We have a week, maybe two, until the first herd gets here. If we were a hundred miles east, we’d have longer. But the park is right in their path.”

“God,” Tyler muttered.

“Camp Fox is not equipped to hold off that many zeds,” Clutch said. “The park’s hills and waterways will slow them down, but they’ll still plow right through the park. We’d burn through all of our ammo, and there’d still be more.”

“We have to run,” I added.

“Where will we run to?” Tyler asked quietly.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We can keep ahead of the herds for a while. Maybe Montana or Wyoming where they’re building those super-cities we keep hearing about.”

Tyler shook his head. “The herds could already be hitting through those areas now.”

“Okay, then. We could go gypsy. Keep on the move until they pass through,” I said, frustrated that I had no better answer. “As long as I have a plane I can scout out areas and make sure that we’re not heading straight for another herd. Or, we can try the Pied Piper plan and lead them away from the park. That plan has never failed. If we’re lucky, the herds will stick to the roads and steer clear of the park completely. After all, it’s pretty secluded.”

Even I didn’t believe my words. Hungry zeds had a knack at sniffing out prey. A few dozen people in a small area would be a tasty snack for a herd.

“But if the plan failed, we’d be doomed,” Clutch said.

“We can’t sit on our asses and hope they bypass the park. I’ve already reached out to all my radio contacts. We have one potential option,” Tyler said finally. “How’d Marshall fare? Did Bill find his family?”

I shook my head. “It’s been completely wiped out.”

Tyler sighed. “I was afraid of that. It’s going to devastate Manny’s people.” He scratched his head. “And Bill?”

I gave him a slow shake of my head. He didn’t need to know the ugly details.

“Damn it.” He kicked a pebble on the concrete. “I need time to think. We’ll talk more after dinner. I’ll meet you all at the square,” he said and took off.

As though we hadn’t just seen the Grim Reaper headed our way, a grin grew across Jase’s face and he hustled toward the truck. “Good. I’m starving.”

Food, the best temporary medicine for a shitty day. It was the only time I knew Jase wasn’t faking his happiness. Everyone loved food now, likely because we all knew how precious it was. Without the convenience of drive-throughs and grocery stores, food took on a whole new meaning. That, plus all the hard physical work we did each day, made mealtime an almost religious experience.

I glanced back at the plane. “I’ll refuel in the morning. I didn’t see any zeds worth worrying about in the area,” I said when I saw Jase already loading Clutch onto the back of the truck. I hopped in, and Jase started the engine and stepped on the gas.

As we drove back into the park, many of the residents were outside working on their assigned tasks, such as gathering food, tending to gardens, and doing laundry. All were completely oblivious to the horde of death headed straight for them.

Jase headed straight for the park square and parked next to Tyler’s Humvee. In front of the log building, three of the park’s older residents were busy cracking walnuts, hazelnuts, and acorns that the kids had found. Everyone had a chore. No one got a free ride. Even the kids’ games had a purpose. Flag football was a popular one, where we taught them how to escape zeds. There was no football involved. One kid started without flags, and they played the role of zed. Every kid whose flags the zed took had to join its herd and go after the others. It sounded a bit morbid, but we had to train them to protect themselves. For little kids, running and hiding were their only real options.

I forced a smile and waved at the trio cracking nuts on my way into the park square.

Tyler held the door open for us. “I should warn you. They’ve been waiting here since morning,”

Clutch rolled himself in first, and Jase and I followed.

The chow area was empty except for Manny and his people. The moment we stepped inside, all eyes turned to us. Manny stood with a wide smile and headed our way. “You’re back!” He slowed down as he looked past my shoulder, then at me. “Where’s Bill?”

I’d been expecting the question and didn’t hesitate. “He decided to stay behind.”

Faces lit up. Except for Manny, whose smile had been replaced by a dubious squint of his eyes. I tried not to make contact as I followed Clutch to the food line. Jase had somehow found his way to the front of the line. A woman hustled to me and held a picture in front of my face. “Did you see my husband?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t see him.” I picked up a tray and grabbed some leftover potatoes, nuts, and berries.

Manny’s people quickly surrounded us.

“Are they okay?”

“Did you talk to Lyle?”

“What did you see?”

“Did you give them our letters?”

“Please tell us more!”

The woman who’d showed me the picture of her husband grabbed my arm. “Please take me north like you did Bill. We don’t have to land, just look for Mike. I know he’s out there. Please help me.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” I said, not wanting to be the one responsible for crushing their precious hope. “The chance of seeing anyone from the air is so miniscule that—”

“You took Bill there. I need to get back to my husband!”

Clutch wheeled between us, forcing the woman to loosen her grip. “Cash can’t help you. None of us can,” he said.

Even though he had to look up at her, he still radiated strength. The woman’s lips pursed in anger. She spun on her heel and left us, mumbling, “Assholes.”

“Will you go back tomorrow?” someone else asked.

“No,” Clutch and I said at the same time.

“There’s no place to go back to,” Tyler said from behind us.

His words smothered the room. Even the sounds of silverware on plates silenced. In a rush, Clutch and I grabbed the rest of our food and headed to a picnic table in the corner.

The man who’d asked the last question followed. “What do you mean, ‘there’s no place to go back to’?”

I glanced down at Clutch, and then took a deep breath. “It’s not safe there.”

“What do you mean? Why won’t you tell us? What happened? If it’s not safe, why did you leave our people behind? Those are our families back there!”

I ignored him, eating with one hand while holding my Glock on my lap with the other.

“Because there was no one left to get out!” Tyler bellowed out as he sat down.

Manny clenched his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and speaking. “We were too late.”

I pursed my lips before I finally spoke. “Some had to make it out. If they made it to cars and stayed ahead of the herds, they could’ve made it.” I wasn’t lying; I believed my words. After all, someone had to have locked the infected in the theater from the outside. Whether they got away in time…chances were no one would ever know.

“I thought they’d be safe,” one of the newcomers muttered without any inflection. “I thought the herds were following us.”

“God,” someone else said. “So many kids…lost.”

“We should’ve gone back for them.”

“My Ginny,” a man said, pulling at his hair.

“Maybe they got out in time.”

“We have to try to find any survivors,” the woman who’d first showed me a picture said, though the picture was now crumpled in her grip. “Manny, we need to go back.”

“We have to go back and find anyone we can.”

The man who’d been pulling at his hair screamed, “Stop it! Stop it! You all know they didn’t get out. They’re dead! We left them there to die! They’re all dead or they’re zeds!”

Manny held up his hands. “Whoa. Enough. We don’t know that for sure. Some might have gotten out. Even if they did, there are all the herds between us and them. We can’t search for them if we’re dead. We have to look out for ourselves first. Once the herds pass through, then we can go back.”

“How will we survive the herds? If Marshall couldn’t survive, we have no chance here!” a woman cried out.

Tyler stood up. “I have an idea, but it’s a long shot.”

Chapter VI

The following morning’s flight was a bumpy one, and I had to keep both hands on the yoke. The weather was unseasonably warm, and the heat caused thermals to pop up in the air. Tyler was strapped in next to me in the Cessna 172. Sitting behind us, Jase scanned the countryside for anything useful while Griz slept soundly, his snores coming over the intercom every once in a while.

Clutch, as Tyler’s second-in-command, was in charge of the park whenever Tyler was offsite for longer than a few hours. When Camp Fox had relocated to the park, the pair had reached an agreement to never ride in the same vehicle because the park couldn’t risk losing both of our seasoned military officers. Even though their knowledge and leadership had saved our collective ass many times over, I suspected the other reason they didn’t ride together was because they pissed each other off as much as they needed each other.

Clutch couldn’t come along today for three reasons. First, the air was too turbulent for his back. Second, Tyler was the only person who’d spoken with the guy we were meeting today. Third and most important, Clutch was shit as a diplomat. He was great at getting people in line—and was likely running all the residents through the training wringer right now—but when it came to begging for help, Tyler’s smooth personality was needed.

Tyler currently had his head propped against the glass, looking outside, his hand tapping to the beat of the music piping through our headsets. He had his iPhone plugged into the plane’s audio system, and the connector charged the device while it played. Right now, music from the Nadas filled my headset.

“The zeds around here aren’t showing any signs of migrating yet. I wonder if they do leave, how far south they’ll go,” he said without looking up, the music volume auto-muting while he spoke.

“Who cares as long as it’s a long ways from us,” Jase replied from the backseat.

“I don’t get it,” Tyler said. “The zeds are rotting away. Why would they migrate when they’re probably going to be dead within a year, anyway?”

The zeds still owned the area, but their bodies had slowed down as the plague ate away at their flesh and muscle. With how decayed many were, that they hadn’t died off already made no sense. Then again, that anyone could have their throat ripped out and yet return as a zed made no sense either. The virus, in its cruel effectiveness, was terrifying.

Still, on this trip, our greater risk was survivors, not zeds. Most zeds remained near towns, with only herds roaming the countryside. If only I’d flown over these roads before and mapped out any roadblocks or signs of raiders, we could’ve driven today. This was the first time Tyler was meeting with this radio contact. I would’ve preferred to drive so that we could have taken more reinforcements.

Tyler’s contact, a riverboat captain named Sorenson, had a community roughly the size of Camp Fox on a riverboat casino. He’d told Tyler he was confident his people would make it through the migration unscathed, and Tyler had believed him. The question was, would Sorenson take Camp Fox under his protection as well? That he had offered to meet with Tyler gave us all hope.

Right now, everyone at Camp Fox was busy packing up their belongings and pulling together all the food, livestock, supplies, and weapons for winter under the assumptions that Tyler’s diplomacy would succeed and we could temporarily relocate to Sorenson’s riverboat. If Tyler failed in gaining Sorenson’s help today, our only option was to run. I hoped to God Tyler wouldn’t fail.

On the ground, a few zeds dotted the landscape. Nothing like the herds Clutch, Jase, and I had seen north of us. Every hour I hoped the herds would stop their migration or at least pass through without coming near Camp Fox, but I knew better. I’d seen the herds and the paths they’d trampled. They moved like locusts intent on a mission. “Maybe the zeds in Chow Town will head out with them,” I said, thinking of the only possible benefit of the migration.

“We can only hope,” Tyler said. “It would be great to be able to get into town and clear out the stores before bandits get to them.”

Right now, around three thousand zeds lurked in the streets of Fox Hills, now called Chow Town. I’d made the unfortunate mistake of getting myself stranded in town not once but twice, and I’d barely gotten out alive each time. No one was crazy enough to venture near Chow Town. Zeds had laid claim, and no one dared challenge them for it.

Every day, a few more would trickle out of Chow Town, and our scouts would put a quick end to them. Still, at that rate, it would take years to clear out the town that had once been Fox Hills.

We couldn’t wait a decade for the zeds to clear out of Chow Town. We needed food and resources now. After Clutch’s farm and Camp Fox were destroyed, it was too late to replant, leaving everyone to harvest wild crops and the few gardens that had been planted. It scared the beejeezus out of me knowing there were even more zeds on the way, eating everything in their path.

Swallowing, I glanced over my shoulder. “Hey, Jase. Did you bring the map that’s marked up with the herds?”

“Got it right here.”

“Good. If we get the chance to make a fuel stop, I’ll fly us north. What do you think, Tyler?”

He nodded. “It’s a good idea to see if they’re still on track for what we calculated. I think we’ll need to start scouting to the north every day.”

“I’ll use the Cub. It burns less fuel, and I don’t want to use this plane except when we have to because it’s in desperate need of an overhaul.” I paused. “And we have another problem.”

“Oh?” Tyler asked.

“The fuel tank at the Fox Hills airport is nearly empty,” I replied. “I can get two, maybe three, more refills for the portable tank from it. Jase has marked every airport in the area that might have av-gas, but if I have to travel farther for refills, I need a bigger portable tank. A gas truck would be perfect.”

Tyler chuckled. “Easier said than done. Every gas truck we’ve found is needed for ground support in case Camp Fox needs to become mobile. We can’t sacrifice a single truck right now.”

“I guess I’ll start searching for a plane that runs off auto fuel.”

His eyebrows rose. “There are planes that run off regular gas?”

I nodded. “Quite a few, actually. There weren’t any at the Fox Hills airport, but I’m sure there’s one at a nearby airport.”

“Hey, it looks like a grass strip down there,” Jase said.

I scanned from side to side and found a yellow crop duster sitting in tall grass. A single building and white tank sat near it.

“That’s a good one. Be sure to mark it on the map.”

“Already got it,” he said. “There’s no town for miles. The land is wide open. Might make a good fuel stop on the way back.”

“The grass is awfully tall, but yeah, it could be perfect.”

We flew in silence for the next several miles. I kept an eye on my flight path while Jase and Tyler scanned the countryside.

“That looks like a camp down there,” Tyler said, his finger pressed against the glass.

“It could be a bandit camp,” Jase said. “I don’t see any kids down there.”

“I’d rather warn bandits than not warn good people,” Tyler countered.

I slowed the Cessna and descended a hundred feet. Finding survivors was rare, but they were easy to spot. All we had to look for was signs of fortifications, and nearly every camp we’d found was at a farm.

“Can you get any closer?” Tyler asked, ruffling through a duffle.

I smirked. “Afraid gravity won’t catch the bag?”

“No, but it’d be nice to actually drop it within their fence.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from gritting my teeth. I’d grown an aversion to flying over camps. Every time I did, it brought back memories of Doyle’s camp and getting shot at, even though I suspected most folks were out of ammo by now. With one hand wrapped too tightly around the yoke, I dropped in some flaps, slowed the 172 to near stall speed and brought it in to circle the settlement. A half-dozen or so people came to stand outside, looking up, and shading their eyes against the sun.

The engine began to rumble roughly, and my heart lurched. I added in power. “Damn engine is getting worse. We’ve really got to get it fixed,” I muttered.

Tyler opened the window. Cool air blew into the cockpit, and he dropped out the hazard-orange painted bag filled with dirt and a single written warning about the herds heading south. He pulled the window shut and I turned back on course.

“Thanks,” Tyler said. “Any time we can warn others about the herds is potentially another life saved.”

Tyler had brought three more drop-bags, but we didn’t use them. We’d flown over what had definitely been a camp, but it looked like it had been abandoned or overrun some time ago. I often saw signs of abandoned camps, but I hadn’t seen a new camp pop up in over a month. Maybe people were moving west where the government was supposedly pooling all resources into building new “city-states” defensible against zeds.

The rumored city-states gave us all hope, but they were too far away to be considered a possibility yet. The largest rumored city was in Montana, with three states of zeds between us and them. Until we had better vehicles, the trip was too risky. We had to survive on our own in zed country.

Mid-sized groups did the best out here. Too small of a group, resources were spread too thin between fending off zeds and finding food. Too large of a group and it became a magnet for every zed in the vicinity. Camp Fox, just crossing sixty residents if the newcomers stayed, was going to become quite tempting to zeds.

The wide blue landmark in the distance caused me to refocus. “We’re coming up on the Mississippi. Start looking for our bridge,” I said to no one in particular as I strained my eyes, searching the Mississippi River for its bridges.

If the GPS had still worked, it would’ve brought me straight to our destination since Sorenson had provided the bridge’s coordinates. Now, I had to fly by sight, and I was often a mile or more off my destination. It was my fault. Like most, I’d become way too reliant on technology before the outbreak.

“Wait, I’ve got it. I’ll check in,” I said to no one in particular as I lined up to the giant yellow X that had been painted on a bridge. I pressed the radio’s transmit button. “Cessna to Camp Fox. If you can still hear us, we’re descending to land at the RP. Over.”

Dead static came as the only response.

“Clutch might have heard us, but there’s no way I could pick up his handheld from this distance. I’m not even sure he can pick us up,” I said. “We both figured that’d be the case.”

On the right day, the radio signal could cover the entire state, especially with the lack of other signals to hinder it. Today didn’t seem to be one of those days.

As the river grew larger, I descended and slowed. No signs of zeds and—unfortunately—no sign of the riverboat yet. I flew over the bridge with two steel arches. “Everything looks clear, but I’m not seeing our guys. You guys see any zeds?”

“No. Nothing,” came the response from my crew.

I lined up for the bridge again, this time running through my landing checklist. Touching down this close to the river set my nerves on edge, even though the highway was open for a quarter-mile before the bridge, and I had plenty of runway ahead of me. Still, it was discomfiting having all that iron and open water surrounding me. It wouldn’t take too much to veer off and hit a wingtip, and then we’d be stranded over two hundred miles away from Camp Fox. And, once down, I’d have to taxi onto the bridge so we didn’t have to walk to our destination.

The engine sputtered a couple times on final approach, and I throttled forward just enough to keep it from cutting out completely while still making the landing.

“That engine doesn’t sound good,” Tyler said.

“It’s been acting up more and more lately. Joel says it needs some new sparkplugs,” I said as I pulled the plane to a stop in the middle of the bridge so that I could take off in either direction at a moment’s notice.

“He’s been busy with Humvee Three, and that’s his first priority right now. But I’ll ask him to take a look,” Tyler said.

“Yeah, I figured that.” After double-checking to make sure everything was powered off, I set my headset on the dash and unbuckled.

“Rise and shine, Grizzly Bear,” Jase said, and I heard Griz grumble something unintelligible.

Tyler smirked, grabbed his bag, and climbed out of the plane. I grabbed my backpack and rifle. Before I opened my door, I glanced back at the red five-gallon jugs filled with emergency av-gas to make sure they were still bungeed together in the baggage compartment, and then headed outside. Jase and Griz followed.

Griz stretched under the sun while I locked the Cessna’s doors and turned to Tyler. “We’re all set. Barring any big change in weather, we should easily make it back to the park without having to refuel.” I thought for a moment. “I miss getting the weather forecasts. They sure did come in handy with flight planning.”

“I kind of prefer the lack of news,” he said as he pulled out his sword. “It was always sensationalizing the bad things.”

“I’ll check out the area to the east,” Griz said. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jase offered, and the two sauntered off with their weapons drawn.

I started to head in the opposite direction.

“Weather reports were inaccurate as much as they were accurate,” Tyler said. “I miss pizza delivery more.”

I chuckled. “I miss pizza, too.”

We both quickly sobered. It was no fun dwelling on things that we could never have again. We all had a trigger that brought everything we’d lost to mind. Shaking off memories of loved ones I’d never see again, I scanned the distance in silence, looking for any zeds that might have heard the airplane and come to investigate. The bridge and rural highway had no cars for as far as my eyes could see. This area was rural enough that it didn’t have the telltale scars of wreckage and bodies that populated areas had.

The sun glistened off the blade a trader had given Tyler in exchange for penicillin. It was a nice weapon but it’d be far too heavy for me. I preferred my lighter weapons: the spear I’d made from an old broom handle, a machete from our first looting run in Chow Town, and a large tanto knife Clutch had given me right after the outbreak.

I checked my M24 rifle. We’d been through plenty together, and it bore as many scars as I did. Tiny scratches marred the black metal from a grenade blast that I’d never expected to survive.

“You look sad,” Tyler said. “What’s wrong?”

“My poor rifle has seen its share of abuse,” I answered.

“We all have,” he said softly.

I pointed to a gouge on the barrel that had shown up sometime between the time I was imprisoned at Camp Fox and when I got the rifle back. “This one wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t thrown me behind bars.”

He raised his brows. “Seriously? You’re still beating me up over that?”

“Always,” I replied. “After all, no one forced you to arrest me.”

“I did it to save you from the Dogs,” he said, referring to the Iowa militia. “Besides, you did break the law. No matter how you look at it, killing someone is still breaking the law.”

“Hmph. You and I both know that scumbag Dog had it coming for what he’d done to that poor girl.”

He nodded. “Maybe. But that wasn’t for you to decide. You took away his right to a fair trial. I’m not saying he wasn’t guilty and didn’t deserve what he got. I’m just saying it wasn’t the right way to go about it.”

I could’ve brought up the young girl the accused had raped and beaten, but Tyler had heard it all before, and he still refused to budge from his stance on traditional justice. After the outbreak, I’d reverted to an “eye for an eye” brand of justice because mistakes and crimes committed now nearly always caused someone’s death. We didn’t have the time or resources for a full court system anymore.

“At least it was one fewer Dog to attack Camp Fox,” I said instead. “But that’s all water under the bridge now,” I said, watching a sizable tree limb float down the river.

“I agree. I’m glad things worked out and that you decided to stay with Camp Fox.” Tyler shaded his eyes as he looked down the river. “No sign of the riverboat yet.”

Tyler had reached this guy Sorenson on the radio a month or so ago by sheer luck. He spent twenty minutes every day scanning all the AM, marine, and aeronautical frequencies. One day, they had both been scanning and reporting across the same marine frequencies at the same time. It was through Tyler’s diligence that we’d connected with the folks in Marshall as well as several tiny groups scattered across the area. Sadly, for every settlement he reached, he seemed to lose contact with another.

Of all Tyler’s contacts, Sorenson was best equipped to survive the herd migration. He was a riverboat captain and, since zeds couldn’t swim, anyone who could navigate the rivers had done pretty well since the outbreak.

Tyler believed Camp Fox had found an ally in Sorenson.

I was doubtful. There was a big difference between talking on the radio and asking Sorenson if he’d take another sixty mouths to feed onto his boat. That’s why we’d flown all the way here today—to beg Sorenson to add Camp Fox to his crew. Temporarily, of course.