The next bite tasted like cardboard. And the one after that. If nearly everyone turned into a zed, there wouldn’t be anyone left to fight them. Even soldiers weren’t impervious to a zed’s bite if they were caught unaware or without ammo.
If I hadn’t hitched a ride with Clutch, I’d still be in Des Moines, surrounded by zeds right now. Out here, miles from any town, I was relatively safe. More important, I wasn’t in this alone. I looked up. “I have skills.” Not really. “I can help.” I have no idea how. “Give me one more day, and I’ll prove it.”
He shook his head and held up a finger. “The deal’s for one day.”
“An extra pair of eyes and an extra pair of hands can’t hurt. I can help,” I added.
“Do you know how to fire a gun? String a snare?”
“I can learn.”
“It would take you months to become proficient, even if you had the aptitude for it.” He leaned back. “You’ll only slow me down and eat my food.”
“Then I’ll go out and get us more food.”
“First time I take you with me, you’ll get bit, and then I’ll have to put you down.”
“I’ll be careful.” I jutted out my chin. “Besides, I killed a zed today.”
“Really?” The corners of his mouth curled upward. “And exactly how did you manage that?”
I thought for a moment. With sheer luck and a miracle. “With a ‘wet floor’ sign.”
He looked confused at first, then smirked, but shook it off. “You’ll be a drain. You’ll use up more resources than you could possibly bring in.”
“I’ll go get us whatever we need. If something happens to me, then you’ll be on your own again. It’s a no-lose situation for you.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Not good enough. I’m not set up here to take in strays.” He looked up, his gaze hard with resolve. “The deal was for one day. Come tomorrow, you’re on your own. I’ll get you to a car, but then we’re done.”
I wanted to argue. God, I wanted to beg him to change his mind. Instead, I looked down at my plate and gave a tight nod.
Clutch turned on the TV, and flipped through channels. It looked like nearly all the channels were offline. Only one news channel remained, and the reporter was giving updates on the major cities. With the TV as a backdrop, we finished the meal in silence.
When Clutch stood, I came to my feet. “Here,” I said, reaching for his plate. “I’ll clean up.”
He probably thought I was trying to show him how I could help, and he’d be right. He eyed me for a moment before holding out his plate. “I’ll secure outside. When you’re done, there are a couple plastic jugs I set out. Fill them with water.”
“But you’re out in the country,” I said. “Don’t you have well water?”
“I do,” he said. “But the pumps still need electricity. I have a manual pump outside that will still work if the power goes out, but that’s no reason to not be prepared in case it’s too dangerous to leave the house.”
“Oh.” I headed toward the kitchen and paused. I debated for a moment before asking, “Do you have a phone? I’d like to call my parents. They’re still in Des Moines.”
A flash of sympathy flashed on his face, and he pulled out a cell phone and set it on the side table. “I tried to make a call earlier but couldn’t get through. Phone lines are probably still choked.” The look on my face must’ve bothered him, because he added on, “But go ahead and give it a shot.”
“Thanks.”
He left without another word, and I went about cleaning up. After filling the five-gallon jugs, I sat on the couch and watched the cell phone still resting on the side table. I’d been putting off the call, afraid of having my worst fears confirmed. After cracking my knuckles, I grabbed the phone and punched in my parents’ number.
Call Failed.
Next, I tried to send a text message.
Message failed.
“Damn it,” I muttered, tossing the phone on the cushion next to me and leaning back, covering my eyes.
“No luck?”
I jumped at Clutch’s voice. “Service is still swamped. I’ll try again in the morning.”
He turned away.