Deadland's Harvest

As I flew north, parallel to the zed path, Clutch continually updated the map while muttering under his breath every few seconds. The herd had crushed all the grass and fields in its path. We lost the path a couple times when we flew over larger towns, but quickly found the path again on the other side.

“God,” I sighed. “There’s another one.”

Clutch looked up and followed my finger. “Jesus.”

Another herd, at least half the size of the first, looked like it was only thirty miles or so behind and headed the same direction.

“I’ll mark it down,” Clutch said as I tried to stay focused on my heading, but my eyes kept darting back to the herd. Worse, not ten miles later, another herd appeared in the distance.

“How can there be so many?” Jase asked from the backseat.

No one answered. In fact, no one spoke for many long minutes. I gripped the yoke and twisted my hands around it. Clutch scribbled on the map. I couldn’t tell what Jase and Bill were doing behind me. My mind was too busy dealing with shock. I didn’t need to be an actuary to do the math. There was nothing we could do to defend Camp Fox against such numbers.

We were absolutely, completely fucked.

My brows furrowed as I held back a sob. The unfairness of it all pissed me off. We worked so hard to survive. We’d finally gotten to the point where we felt a step ahead of the zeds.

And now this?

Like Manny’s group, we could only run, but where could we go? The massive herds seemed to cover an entire line of latitude as they moved south.

Bill lunged forward and pointed straight ahead. “There,” he said, wagging his finger. “See that? The university is coming up.”

I jumped, startled. “Get buckled in!”

“It’s SMSU. We’re there,” he said, not moving.

I squinted and made out the connected buildings. We were still at least five miles out and I throttled back to slow the plane and descend. “All right, guys. Keep an eye out for zeds.”

“They would’ve all left with the herds,” Bill said.

“Do you know that for sure?” I countered, adding in flaps to slow the plane to near stall speed.

He said nothing.

I sighed. “Where’s that street I can land on, Bill?”


He leaned forward more. “Birch Street,” he said as if I could read street signs from up here. “It’s just to the south of the dorms. We kept it clear in case we had to pull out.”

“It’s east-west, right?” I asked, looking once more at his roughly drawn map.

“What?”

I made a motion with my hand. “Does the road go north and south or east and west?”

“Oh, east and west. You can’t miss it. It’s the main street for the university.”

As we neared the small university, I slowed the plane and dropped in as much flaps as I could without stalling. Once I had the street in sight, I nodded. “I’ve got it.”

I frowned as I took in the university. During a typical scouting run, zeds dotted streets of any town I flew over. Here, other than the random zed crawling across the ground or a rotting corpse, I saw nothing. The entire university seemed devoid of zeds. “You guys see anything?” I asked.

“Nothing yet. Just a few stragglers,” Jase said.

“Same here,” Clutch said. “From what I can tell, those stragglers look pretty decrepit.”

“You’re going past the street. Down there! Down there!”

I flipped off the intercom but could still hear Bill’s yelling even through my headset. The street was narrow, only two lanes lined with trees and streetlamps. It had a ninety-degree curve on the eastern edge and a forty-five on the west. I could make it work, but there wasn’t much room for error, and no room for a late-decision go-around.

Clutch squeezed my knee, and I turned. “You sure you want to try it?” he yelled since I’d turned off the intercom.

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