Deadland's Harvest by Rachel Aukes Page B

latitude.
    If today fell through, my assignment was to fly over potential routes and mark any roadblocks and herds on the maps. Even then, driving a convoy full of people and livestock in any direction was a dangerous plan. We’d surely draw out any zeds in the area.
    Griz and Jase met up with us at the plane. “All clear to the east,” Griz said, snatching a piece of jerky from my bag.
    Jase grabbed the entire bag and dug in.
    “Same to the west,” Tyler said. “If the engine noise didn’t draw any in, we shouldn’t have anything beyond the random grazer to worry about today. Sorenson picked a good area. I can see for miles in every direction.”
    An engine noise in the distance snapped all of our attention to the river. Shading my eyes, I searched for the source of the sound.
    “Over there.” Jase pointed to the southeast.
    I followed his finger and saw a white deck boat coming out from behind an island of trees and toward us.
    As the boat approached, I could make out four men. They pulled to a stop where an aluminum extension ladder had been securely chained to the bridge.
    A muscled man grabbed a hold of the ladder while a man with weathered skin motioned toward us. “Come on down. We’re here to take you to meet Captain Sorenson.”
    Tyler didn’t move. “I was under the impression that Sorenson was coming here to meet me.”
    The man shook his head. “You’re meeting Captain Sorenson on the Lady Amore today. We’ve all seen the herds. He can’t risk leaving the boat anymore. Now, we’re burning gas. Are you coming or not?”
    Tyler shot each of us a look before turning back to the men on the boat. “Yes, we’re coming, though I don’t appreciate the change in plans.”
    Griz took the lead down the insanely long ladder, and I followed, noticing that the ladder was actually three extension ladders fastened together with chains. It would be no fun for anyone scared of heights, like me. My muscles were tight, and I gripped too hard with each rung I descended.
    One of the men helped me off the ladder at the bottom, and I looked up to see Tyler sliding his sword into its sheath. I stood off to the side, ready to pull out my machete in an instant if anyone tried to injure Tyler. After all, Captain Tyler Masden wasn’t just the commanding officer of Camp Fox, he was its face. Clutch was a better strategist and a stronger leader, but he lacked Tyler’s finesse in working with people. If something happened to Tyler, morale—which was thread-thin already—would snap.
    Tyler climbed down, with Jase right behind him. One man motioned Griz and me to sit up front. As I walked past the boat pilot, I noticed the rifle propped next to him, and I swallowed. We’d have run out of ammunition months ago if I hadn’t found Doyle’s stash of old military surplus.
    Once we all sat down, the driver throttled the boat forward gently, and we pulled away from the bridge and headed toward the small island. With every minute, I felt farther and farther away from Camp Fox.
    Over a half hour later, the boat curved around the northern edge of a small island, and a riverboat casino came into view. It was still a good ways off, a mile or so at least, and our boat pilot seemed to be in no hurry, burning precious daylight.
    As we neared the Lady Amore , my eyes widened. The riverboat casino was massive, yet perfectly hidden from anyone—or anything—on land and from air. Our boat rocked gently as it pulled up alongside the riverboat which was filled with people watching us from the deck above. At least six of those people had rifles pointed right at us.
     
     

Chapter VII
     
    “The password?” a white-haired man—who looked like the fellow on the cover of frozen-fish boxes—called out from the deck above.
    “Mae West had nice tits,” the man who’d spoken to us at the bridge yelled out.
    “That password is correct, Otto. You all may come on board.” Sorenson motioned to the armed people with him. “Lower your