As for our house, even if zeds could get inside, which I doubted, Clutch had jerry-rigged the stairs with C4 that he could blow at a moment’s notice. I never knew C4 was even legal, so I had no idea how he had come to own it. Fifty foot of paracord was placed next to each upstairs window in case the house was overrun. In the cellar, we’d built a fake wall in front of the shelves to hide our food just in case looters managed to break in.
In the gardens, Jase stood watch while I planted, and then we rotated every hour. We’d planted nearly all the seeds we’d taken from the greenhouse. We’d even planted a few herbs so we wouldn’t be doomed with overly bland food all winter, though salt was already missed.
Even with all the food in the cellar, we only had enough food to get us into the winter. We had to grow a hell of a lot of food if we wanted to survive. The fields weren’t safe—too much open space, and we couldn’t eat the corn or soybean seed as it had all been treated with pesticides and herbicides. So we planned to plant by hand seed corn and soybeans in rows closest to the farm since he had all the seed already on hand.
Clutch estimated that we’d converted the backyard into one and a half acres of garden. Within a year, living off the land would become our only source of food. It was terrifying yet empowering.
After the quick seven-step process—which had to be done in order—of getting into the house without setting off a trap, Clutch headed to the kitchen and I turned on the small battery-powered radio and began my routine during every break of slowly scanning both radio bands. Like every other day, FM was quiet. AM had a couple of transmissions, but they must’ve been too far away because static drowned out the voices. As I continued to scan stations, Clutch said, “Wait. Go back.”
I tuned the knob, and turned up the volume. The man spoke in a slow monotone, which was why I’d gone right past the station the first time.
“…militia now controls the towns in southern Iowa and some in northern Missouri. I drove near Des Moines two days ago. Had to see it for myself. The rumors are true. It’s scorched. The military dropped H6s on it at least a week ago since there were only a few fires left burning.”
I suddenly found it hard to breathe, and I fell back on my butt. Des Moines…bombed? Mom. Dad. While I’d known their odds were hopeless, knowing with certainty…I pressed my hand to my heart.
Clutch handed me a glass of water. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe they got out.”
His words were clumsy and rushed, and I knew he didn’t believe them. “Yeah, maybe,” I lied right back, breathless. The finality of the situation forced me to finally admit to myself that I’d been clinging to a strand of false hope for too long. Jaw clenched, I tried not to think about my parents, focusing instead on the stranger’s words.
“…I heard all major cities have been bombed to contain the spread, and any intact military units have pulled back. Though, it’s safe to assume there’s not much government or military left. At least one National Guard base is taking in survivors in Iowa, and that’s Camp Fox. Camp Dodge was destroyed along with Des Moines. I don’t have status on any Iowa units at this time.
During the American Revolution, the active forces in the field against the tyranny never amounted to more than three percent of the colonists. We are the three percenters of today. We are the militia, and we will survive this war. We will defeat the zed scourge and rebuild. I’m wired into stations across the country and will broadcast every day at 0900. This is Hawkeye broadcasting on AM 1340. Be safe and know that you’re not alone. Three percenters, unite!”
Silence came from the speakers, and I sat and stared at the radio.
“Any news?” Jase asked, walking into the living room, sweaty from his run.
“Des Moines was bombed,” Clutch said in a low, rumbly voice.
Jase smiled. “Hopefully they cleared out all the zeds so they won’t be heading this direction.”
I tossed him a glare and then turned away.
“Oh,” Jase said after a moment. “Damn, Cash. I’m sorry. I forgot—”
“It’s time we head out,” Clutch said.
I turned back to see him standing and motioning me to get up. My limbs felt like they’d been filled with lead, but I dragged myself to my feet.