Deadland's Harvest

I leaned forward. “Spaghetti?”


“Yeah,” he said, taking a seat across from me. “The pantry had a pretty good selection. Jase cooked the noodles in sauce and water, so it might be a bit gummy."

Jase guffawed. “You’re lucky to have a hot meal.” he handed Tyler a plate and then sat down with his own. “I’ll take third watch, I guess.”

Griz clasped his hands. “Lord, thanks for this food that we’re about to eat. And thanks for another day where we get to eat food and not get eaten.”

“Amen,” we all murmured.

Silverware clinked against plates as we all dug in. Sitting around a table, eating spaghetti, felt like home. It almost felt like the apocalypse hadn’t taken place around us.

Almost.





Chapter IX


I could barely keep my eyes open after my watch, but unfamiliar surroundings and dreams of massive herds made sleep fitful, and I woke up every hour or so. I finally passed out sometime during Jase’s shift.

“Cash.”

I lunged awake, grappling for my machete.

“Whoa there,” Tyler said and pressed me back. “There’s no emergency. I just thought I’d wake you.”

It took a moment for the night’s fog to clear from my mind. I rubbed my eyes. “Time to head out?”

“Soon.” His features softened. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, my heart racing, remembering flying a shiny airplane with gold stripes. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees.

He kept a hand on my shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

I thought back to the dream. Clutch, Jase, and I were flying somewhere. The engine stalled over endless fields filled with zeds. Tyler had woken me just before we crashed. “Just the usual stuff,” I said after a bit.

He rubbed my shoulder and gave me a gentle look. “It was just a dream. We’re all haunted by them. Don’t let it get to you.” He cupped my cheek before coming to his feet. He strolled over to Griz who was sprawled out on the mattress we’d dragged into the living room and nudged him with his foot.

Griz grumbled, and Tyler nudged him again.

I made out the words “go away” this time.

“Wake up,” Tyler said. “There’s some oatmeal on the table. We’re heading out in ten.”

I rolled off the king-sized mattress we’d taken turns sleeping on, stood, and stretched with a groan. With its cracks and pops, my body sounded—and felt—like it belonged to a fifty-year-old rather than one who wasn’t even thirty yet. “I could’ve used another hour of sleep.”

“I could’ve used another five hours,” Griz said as he geared up.

I pulled all my things together, and we ate standing up at the table. A few minutes later, Jase lifted the garage door, and the four of us climbed into the car. Tyler backed the Chevy out of the garage and into the quiet darkness of early morning. We drove down the long winding road parallel to the river until the sun was halfway above the horizon.

Tyler turned at an intersection that had a green airport sign pointing to the left. “If you see anything that seems off, we’ll abort and drive the two hundred miles. We’ll find a fuel stop on the way.”

“Let’s not,” Griz said, with his eyes still closed. “We need to get back to the park today if we’re going to make a mass exodus to a shipwrecked boat before the herds arrive. We’re on borrowed time already.”

“We can’t help our people if we’re dead,” Tyler replied a bit too quickly. He inhaled before continuing. “But, yes, I also agree with you. We don’t have time for delays.”

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