People complained and dragged their feet as they headed back toward the barges.
“We’re not doing this for fun,” Tyler yelled out. “We’re doing this to save lives.”
His words cooled down the grumbling a bit, but people still weren’t thrilled about being cooped up in a dusty, steel barge.
The Aurora was in rough shape. The deck of the boat, with its heavily shellacked wood, was charred in several places. Only one flare had burned through the deck and into the equipment room, which accounted for most of the smoke we’d come across yesterday.
The deck had been repaired, but barge Four, which had taken the brunt of the damage, was a different story. A flare had landed on hay bales, which had lit a fire. Our livestock had been decimated. No animals survived. Most of the animals had died from smoke inhalation, and the cooks were working non-stop to save what meat they could.
Still, we’d been counting on eggs for our breakfasts. Several cattle and hogs had been pregnant, and all of them died in the fire. Finding livestock after the outbreak was tough. It had taken us over six months to pull together the thirty head and several dozen chickens. To replenish our stock would take a miracle. It would take a bigger miracle to hunt and fish enough meat until we could rebuild our livestock.
At least no one had died from the black fumes, although Clutch and I had both suffered from killer headaches all night. We’d gone through a pot of coffee this morning, and it had only taken the edge off our throbbing headaches.
I pulled myself to my feet. “Want to go bug Jase with me before we join the cleanup crews?” I asked Clutch.
He gave a crooked grin. “Hell, yes.”
I wheeled him toward the galley, giving him a twirl when we reached the door. He pulled himself up on his crutches, and we headed inside and went below decks. When we reached the equipment room, Clutch called out before he walked through the door. “Hey, Jase, coming in.”
Jase waved at us, without taking his rifle off his prisoners. “Hey guys!” He was currently on guard watch over the three prisoners from the Lady Amore. The temporary brig was in the towboat’s equipment room and was in no way set up to hold prisoners. It wasn’t the ideal location, but we figured it would be more difficult to escape than from any barge near civvies. Rather than bars, the prisoners were all handcuffed to chains that had been wrapped around thick pipes. It had a medieval feel to it, but we had to make do with what we had.
Clutch stepped unsteadily down the few steps, using his crutches and upper body strength for support. Since his back injury, his upper body was stronger than it’d ever been to make up for the lack of strength in his legs. He’d also lost weight, making the contrast in muscles all the more obvious. I liked the look of his biceps. His tattoos wrapped around his arms in a sensual way. But his legs were too thin from lack of use, and I worried about how long it would take for him to rebuild muscle.
Jase stood and offered the box he’d been sitting on to Clutch. “How’d the rest of the funeral go?” he asked.
“It was nice,” Clutch said as he took a seat.
“Griz did a really good job. The stories were great,” I added. We’d worked alongside Tack for several months. When I’d heard the stories from the other residents, I’d realized just how many lives the man who’d rarely spoken had touched. He had truly been an example of actions speaking louder than words. I hated that one more good person had been unfairly stolen from the world.
I turned to Sorenson, who sat on the floor, his wrists cuffed in front of him. His two men sat next to him, one on each side. Their chains were long enough to allow some mobility so that they could reach the single bucket that served as their toilet.