Deadland Rising (part 3 of the Deadland Saga)

Uncertainty (Chapter 1)

The fresh blanket of snow created a pleasant illusion. With Des Moines covered in silent white, I could almost imagine that concealed underneath the disguise was not the charred, desolate remains of a city littered with hundreds of thousands of corpses.

Another round of shivers racked my body. I hugged myself to fight off the morning chill and slid off the hood of the Humvee. Pants, boots, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a mid-weight jacket weren't nearly enough to ward off the looming Midwest winter. The cold wasn't the only reason why I was shivering, though. I shivered because I felt utterly empty and afraid.

We had nothing. No food, no supplies, and less than a day's worth of gas left.

A lot had changed in two days. I think we were all numb, still operating on autopilot. Ten of us were all that remained of Camp Fox. To call our ragtag group "survivors" was being generous.

Clutch leaned next to me against the Humvee. He watched me with those warm brown eyes. They were often his only betrayal of emotion. He tried so hard to remain stoic, always in control, but his eyes belied his hard-fought façade. He was exhausted...and worried. "How are you holding up, Cash?"

I forced a smile. "Hanging in there. You?"

He rubbed his neck. "Hanging in there." He handed me a bag of homemade granola he'd found while searching vehicles after the bandit attack alongside the Mississippi River.

As I chewed on a handful of crunchy seeds, nuts, and oats, I stared at the large store on the other side of the interstate in the far distance. Sitting on the outskirts of the city, the building had somehow survived the bombing of Des Moines. After the outbreak, the military had tried to stop the spread by bombing all large cities, but their attempts were too late to do much good. I pointed to the store. "That's a Bass Pro Shop. It could be worth checking out. If it hasn't been looted already, it would have winter coats."

Clutch let out a long, quiet whistle. "Awfully risky. I'd prefer not to get any closer to Des Moines than we are now."

"That's the same reason why most looters would have avoided it, too," I replied. "It's worth the risk. Now that most of the zeds have migrated south for the winter, this could be our best chance before these places turn into a free-for-all."

He pushed off the vehicle, opened the driver's side door, and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He scrutinized the area for long minutes before handing the binoculars to me. "It looks in good shape. There's going to be zeds still locked inside."

I adjusted the binoculars to see through the store's shattered windows but could make out nothing in the interior darkness. "We won't know until we check it out."

"Farmhouses would be safer."

"And looted already." I lowered the binoculars. "I don't want to go into a place that big and that close to the city, but we're going to freeze out here otherwise."

After a pause, he sighed. "I sure would like to get my hands on some decent fishing gear."

I chewed on my lip. "What do you say? It could be like Christmas for all of us. Just a couple months early."

Slowly, his lips curled upward. "Christmas, eh? Jase has been talking about wanting a new backpack. We still need to figure out a plan," he said.

"Plan for what?" Jase chimed in as he walked toward us, hefting a black garbage bag filled with river water ready to be filtered and boiled.

"We're going to check out that Bass Pro Shop over there." I pointed.

He cocked his head in that direction. "Cool. Count me in. After breakfast, though. I'm starving."