Deadland's Harvest

Clutch pulled up to the edge of the open bay. He set his crutches on the deck next to him and laid his rifle on his lap. “If either of you see anything suspicious, flash your lights in my direction.”


I pulled out my sidearm and snapped the small flashlight onto it. The Glock and all its accessories had been a surprise from Tyler for my birthday. I think it was his way to finally show that he wasn’t angry with me anymore for leaving him behind when I went after Doyle on my own. I peered into the darkness, my nerves making my senses hypersensitive. “It looks quiet down there. Knock on wood, everything will be just fine and we’ll be back in bed in no time.”

Clutch narrowed his eyes at me. After a moment, I shrugged and couldn’t help but smirk at his superstitious nature. He was a firm believer that if any of us said something would be easy, it was sure to have problems. Just because he was right most of the time only made the superstition a coincidence, not a fact.

Oh, and Clutch also didn’t believe in coincidences.

Jase gave me a slow shake of his head before taking the first step into the barge. I followed him down the steps, slowly scanning the floor and pallets with my mounted flashlight. Nothing seemed out of place. No tarps had been torn off. No supplies were scattered. The tension in my muscles eased. My imagination had been working overtime. Everything was fine. I’d been overreacting.

As I reached the last step, I could make out an almost imperceptible, powered hum, and I frowned. “Do you hear that?” I whispered.

Jase paused and looked at me and then did a three-sixty. “Yeah,” He replied just as quietly. “Sounds like it’s coming from that way.” He pointed with his flashlight and led us toward the long side of the barge.

Wes had gotten the engines running, but they weren’t running right now, and there were no generators running on this barge. Tyler had mandated we needed to save power until we found more fuel and the temperatures dipped below freezing. There were several small gas-powered generators spread across the barges to help with lighting, cooking, and plumbing, but there should be none in a barge being used only for storage. Yet, the noise grew as we drew closer.

“What the hell is a generator doing on down here?” Jase asked.

My eyes narrowed on a tarp against the wall. Unlike the other tarps that sat squarely over pallets, this one seemed misshapen and tight against the side of the hull. There, on the edges of the tarp, warm light bled through the edges of the tarp.

“I don’t like this.” I raised my Glock and turned the light on and off three times. A light from the deck above did the same back at us.

Jase turned off his light to have both hands on his rifle. Seconds later, I heard the sounds of boots pounding down the steps.

The tarp moved, and a masculine shape crawled out from under it. “Lay off. I said I’ll check it out.”

As he stood, I leveled the light in his eyes. “Don’t move!”

Philip from the Lady Amore held a hand over his eyes, and then spun around. “Run!”

The tarp was thrown open and two more shapes bolted out.

Jase stepped up to Philip and coldcocked him with the butt of his rifle. The man fell to the ground with a solid thud. The other two ran behind pallets, and we both took off after them.

Jase quickly took the lead and cut between the pallets while I ran straight ahead and took the next chance to get behind the pallets just in time to see Jase tackle a smaller shape.

As he yanked her to her feet, I noticed it was Nikki.

My mouth dropped. Son of a bitch.

“I’ve got her,” Jase said. “Quit wiggling, dammit.”

“Do you need help?” I asked, glaring at the woman.

“No, I’ve got it covered,” he quickly replied.

Rachel Aukes's books