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 weapons. Everything’s clear.”

“His own guys have to use a password?” I muttered.

“Every time we have newcomers,” the man named Otto replied. “It’s a safety precaution in case we’re being coerced into bringing bandits on board.”

“It’s smart,” Tyler said as he came to his feet.

A ladder extended down the side of the tall riverboat. We climbed up in the same procession as we had at the bridge. At the top of the ladder, two men lifted me up and onto the deck.

Griz was already chatting with the white-haired man I assumed to be Sorenson. A small terrier sat by his feet. The man said something that brought out Griz’s deep chuckle, and then the man narrowed his eyes at me. “You must be the pilot.”

I nodded.

“It’d be handy having one of you around, especially nowadays. I’m Captain Sorenson, and welcome to the Lady Amore.” He held out his hand, and I accepted it.

“I’m Cash.”

Tyler stepped onto deck, quickly followed by Jase. Sorenson smiled. “And I take it you’re Captain Masden.”

Tyler gave his irresistible Homecoming King smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Captain Sorenson. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve delayed our meeting until the spring, but some factors arose that forced the issue.”

Sorenson nodded. “I’ve seen the herds with my own eyes, Captain Masden, so I’m not the least bit surprised at your visit.” He gestured to his men. “You’ve already met four of my men. Otto, Hank, Chuck, and Pedro.”

Tyler dipped his head at the men who’d just come up the ladder.

“You didn’t come all this way to swap nicknames and exchange pleasantries,” Sorenson said. “You’ve got a zed problem headed your way, and you need my help. Let’s go somewhere where it’s more comfortable to talk.” He paused. “I’m a fair man, but I won’t allow aggression on the Lady. All weapons must be holstered or sheathed at all times, or else they will be confiscated. Aggressors will be dealt with harshly. I’m assuming you find no issues with that?”

Tyler looked at all three of us first, then back at Sorenson. “I can assure you, no weapons will be drawn as long as there’s no reason for them to be.”

“Fair enough. I’d never ask for more than that,” Sorenson—with his dog as his heels—led us to a side door and entered. We all followed into a well-lit hallway. I glanced back to see Otto and Pedro stepping in behind us, and Otto closing the door. Inside, the hallway was straight with doors every ten feet or so. It reminded me of an old-fashioned hotel, and I realized that was exactly what the Lady Amore was.

The end of the hallway opened into a winding double-staircase that led down to an enormous open area. Twenty or so poker tables dotted the colorful open space. Couches, beanbag chairs, and camp chairs looked out of place in the ornate room that reminded me of a scene from Titanic. The new furniture was likely replacements for the missing slot machines, and the area was now filled with people chatting and eating. At the far end of the casino was the restaurant area where a large buffet was set up against a wall. Twenty or so people stood in line.

Sorenson had a good setup here, a safe little paradise that no zed could get to…though I suspected it was a different story each time they had to go to land to refuel and restock.

He led us down the stairs and through the area, nodding, chatting, and smiling at folks as he walked. Beyond the buffet line, there was another winding stairwell. After climbing a flight of stairs and taking several hallways, we entered a bland corridor with beige walls and no artwork.

“This used to be the staff quarters. My quarters are right on the end up here,” Sorenson said. “We’re a bit cramped around here, so this is the best place to chat openly.”

“I would’ve taken the biggest room if I was the boss,” Jase said softly behind us.

“A family of eight lives in the Presidential Suite,” Sorenson replied as he stopped at a door. “They need the space far more than I do. Besides, these quarters have been my home for nigh on thirty years. They’re plenty enough for my needs and suit me just fine.” He opened the door, and his dog bounded inside. Sorenson walked in and held the door open for the rest of us to enter.

Inside, the area seemed to be as large as any suite, which I supposed was probably common for captain’s quarters. The room we stood in was a medium-sized living room area with a large wood conference table in the middle. A couch and TV sat in the far corner opposite a small kitchenette. Next to the refrigerator was an open door to a bedroom.

Sorenson gestured to the table. “Have a seat,” he said before he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl.

I took a seat next to Tyler, and Otto sat on my other side.

Sorenson set down the bowl. “Pickled bass. Help yourselves.”

His dog yipped, and Sorenson picked out a large piece of fish and tossed it in the air. The dog jumped, caught the chunk, and swallowed it in a single bite.

Tyler reached in and grabbed a small piece of fish. “Bass? Haven’t heard of that being pickled before.”

“You can pickle just about anything that can be eaten. It keeps food from going bad and doesn’t ruin the taste,” Sorenson replied. “But we steer clear of the bottom feeders. In fact, I lost one of my people from bad catfish. Too many fish have ingested zed-infected bits to be safely eaten anymore. It makes fishing more challenging.”