Charred zeds swayed like totems on the other side of the river, the side closest to Des Moines. They had no eyes or ears or noses, but they remained. They were an ominous reminder of why we kept from crossing the river and nearing the city. I refused to watch them.
I also avoided looking at the skeletal ruins of Des Moines’s tallest buildings. I hadn’t seen my parents since the outbreak, and I’d accepted the fact that I’d never see them again, that they never got out, along with a million other doomed souls in and around the city. At least I knew they were at peace. The bombing had taken out most of the zeds in the city, with the exceptions of the charred zeds—burnt beyond recognition—standing like shadowy guards at the edges of town, always on the lookout for prey.
The military hadn’t bombed a wide enough radius to take out all the zeds, but they had done their job on the central part of the city. Bombs weren’t precise and would’ve taken out uninfected and infected alike. Bombs existed only to destroy and took out anything in their path. They were a bit like zeds in that: they were both destroyers.
After taking a cold-water bath, I sipped some pine needle tea and lay in the back of the Humvee with Clutch and Jase. Our legs tangled around the machine gun, but we’d all slept in more uncomfortable positions before. In fact, having both with me, safe and sound, was the best feeling I’d ever had.
Deb lay awkwardly around the back bench seats, and petite Hali fit comfortably up front. Griz, Marco, Vicki, Frost, and Benji were still working out the sleeping arrangement in the other Humvee, though I suspected Benji would tell them how it’d be. Diesel lay curled in a ball next to the vehicle, outwardly sound asleep, but I knew from experience he’d bolt awake at the smallest threatening sound.
Camp Fox had taken a heavy hit. It would never be the same, but enough of us had survived to continue the effort. Yet, I knew that as long as I had Clutch and Jase with me, things would turn out okay.
“There’s one,” Jase said, pointing to the sky.
“That makes twelve,” Clutch said.
I closed my eyes and savored this moment, knowing that we’d be on the road again tomorrow, running from who knew what and heading toward something I wasn’t sure I trusted. When I opened my eyes again, I relished the night’s peace where there were no zeds and no bandits and no death.
“Another one,” Jase said.
“Eagle eye, I swear,” I said with a smile.
Clutch chuckled. “Thirteen.”
It was probably a meteor shower, and we all enjoyed the distraction. It was by far the best entertainment we’d had in some time. Before the outbreak, I would’ve gotten bored. Not now. Tonight, we were together and safe.
“Oh, there’s one.” I pointed.
“That’s a satellite, silly,” Jase said.
Clutch chuckled, and we both joined in. Lying in the back of that Humvee, without any manmade lights to block the sky, we laughed as we continued to count the shooting stars.
The saga comes to an end
Late 2014
DEADLAND RISING
The search for hope, with a shambling twist
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The Deadland Saga
100 Days in Deadland
Deadland’s Harvest
Deadland Rising (Late 2014)
Author’s Note