Deadland's Harvest (part 2 of the Deadland Saga)

Pride (Chapter 12)

Once we had a chance to regroup, Jase opened the steel door, and Griz tossed a snap light into the room several steps below. A green glow lit up the open space. Several dark shapes clumsily and erratically ran into one another to pounce at the light.

Jase whistled. "There's got to be a dozen of them down there."

Griz let out a sigh. "It's too dangerous to take them out hand-to-hand. We could wait for Maz's team, but either way, sweeping the area is our safest option." He turned to me. Shadows danced across his face. "Cash, you're on. Jase, stand by the door. I'll yank Cash back if they get too close, and you shut the door."

"Yes, sir," Jase said, and he squeezed past me to the door.

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or obedient, but I also didn't care. I had a job to do. Griz would never put me face to face with a zed where I could get hurt, but he had no problem with me taking them down from a distance. I didn't mind as long as I didn't feel useless. I was actually looking forward to some target practice. I still remember the first zed I killed. Hell, I remembered all of them, but when I killed them, I'd learned to compartmentalize. What I killed wasn't human or even feeling. It was a target, nothing else.

I ran a thumb over my M24. It showed some wear, but it shot true. After checking the stability of the handrail, I leaned onto the metal bar and aimed. "Don't worry. This won't take too long."

The zeds had begun to disperse from the snap light, having discovered that it brought no flesh that they craved. As soon as the first one sniffed us out, they all headed toward us. Still, I fired only when I was sure I had a kill shot.

My personal motto, get 'em where I want 'em, repeated over and over in my mind.

One. A zed fell. The shot resounded off the metal walls.

Two. Another fell. Three. Four. My ears rang.

I fired eleven shots in total and killed ten zeds. No one spoke while I fired. It was kind of like talking in someone's back swing. It just wasn't cool.

When I lifted my rifle, Jase smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

"Like fish in a barrel," Griz said with a pat on my back. "Good job, Cash."

He motioned forward, and then headed down the four steps and into the room holding what I assumed to be the mechanicals of the boat. I swapped my rifle for my machete; even though noise no longer mattered, ammo was a precious commodity. We checked the bodies to make sure they were good and fully dead. Not that I was worried. Each one was a solid head shot.

"God, it stinks down here," Jase said.

I nodded. "We need to find an air freshener warehouse."

"Boats need to be well-sealed or else they'd sink," Griz said, holding his forearm over his nose. "It's a good thing if we have to stay here through the winter. But damn, it's going to take a while to air it out. Jesus." He gagged and bent over. I thought he was going to throw up, but after a moment, he stood, pulled a scarf over his nose and stepped over a zed carcass.

Metal creaked.

"We're coming in!" Tyler yelled from the opposite side of the room.

"All clear!" Griz shouted back.

Beams from three headlamps emerged from the darkness.

"Everything covered from the back?" Griz asked.

"That's affirmative," Tyler replied.

He walked in and looked at the bodies.

"There were eighteen beds in the crew quarters," Griz said. "Add on one for the captain, we shouldn't come across more than nineteen zeds, and that's assuming they were running a full crew and not carrying passengers." He counted on his fingers. "Three on the bridge, one in the galley, and the pair in the crew quarters. We came across another ten in the equipment room, and they all looked like crew. No passengers. So, that makes sixteen."