“What’s our destination?” Frost asked. Diesel sprawled around Benji, both napping next to the older man. Frost had never given the dog any food meant for people, but when the Aurora burned so had all of Diesel’s kibble. The dog, just like everyone else, no longer had anything to eat. Already, the griping had started. Complaints that the dog would take precious food.
Complaining about a dog wasn’t a serious issue, but it revealed the mood of Camp Fox. If relationships were collapsing the first day on the road, we wouldn’t last three days before everyone was at one another’s throats.
“We’re heading back toward Fox Hills since we’re familiar with the area and the herds should’ve passed through there at least a week ago. We’ll stop along the way at any place that’s safe and has food, including every military base and armory so we can replenish our gear.”
“What if we don’t find food,” someone else asked, and several others chimed in agreement.
Tyler didn’t even pause. “Then we go hungry.”
After Tyler’s uncharacteristically harsh response, no one else voiced any more questions.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone had split into four Humvees, one HEMTT, and the two gas trucks. With fewer people and no gear, all other vehicles were left behind simply because we didn’t need them anymore.
Less than an inch of snow covered the ground, so we didn’t have to deal with shitty road conditions on top of everything else. Griz and Jase pulled out first in Bravo team’s Humvee—the one with a pinup girl painted on the hood—and disappeared out of sight. Clutch and I had time to wait since we would be the last vehicle to head out. I was glad I was with Clutch rather than Tyler since Tyler’s mood had been so sour since the fire.
Not that anyone was in a cheerful mood.
I drove, and Clutch stood behind the .30 cal. We’d decided we would switch positions every hour so neither of us would get too cold. This morning, we’d counted our rounds that we kept in the Humvee. Just over two hundred for our rifles and fourteen hundred for the machine gun. Not bad, but I would’ve liked to have had ten times that for a cross-country trip.
Tyler led the convoy and he kept us slow, below thirty miles per hour. That speed allowed plenty of time to prepare for any zeds that discovered us, and made it easy for Clutch and me to alternate positions. The slow progress also allowed for a chance to admire the beautiful day outside. Snow dusted the trees lining both sides of the winding river road. A gentle breeze pressed against the branches, sending maple seeds spinning to the ground like tiny helicopters. The sense of peace was surreal, given all the chaos in our lives over the past several days.
Jase reported in on the radio every thirty minutes. He and Griz had found a dented can of creamed corn under a kitchen counter at one farm. Two other farms offered nothing, and all three farms had clearly been looted. Whether the looters were still alive or not, we couldn’t know, so Tyler warned Griz and Jase to proceed with caution.
The road map showed that the closest bridge over the Mississippi was near Parkerstown. If the zeds had cleared out of town, Tyler announced we’d camp there for the night after searching every store and house. With a large sporting goods store, it offered the possibility to restock gear. That was, if it hadn’t been looted yet.
The convoy came to a stop before us, and I craned my head out the window to see why. “Do you see anything?” I asked Clutch.
“Everything looks clear up ahead,” he replied.
Tyler’s voice came over the radio. “Contact across the river in the trees. Looks like a single troop with eyes on us.”
I scanned the tree line across the river, but didn’t see anyone. “Do you see him yet?”
A moment passed. “I have him,” Clutch said. “Looks Army issue.”
“Scout vehicle to proceed with extreme caution. Make contact only if you’re confident he’s Army. Report back in ten.”
Griz’s response came. “Roger. Scout vehicle closing in now.” Then he tacked on, “If he’s military, he’s a damn beautiful sight.”
I scowled at the idea of Jase and Griz heading blindly into a possible ambush. Tyler and Griz had far more faith in an altruistic military structure than I did. I’d figured that the world collapsing didn’t exclude the military. Still, we needed food, shelter, and protection. If this guy was the real deal, then we couldn’t not make contact.
After a few more minutes, the convoy moved forward again. The next hour was tense as I kept waiting to hear from Griz, but there still was no response by the time we reached Parkerstown. Rather than leading us into town, Tyler brought the convoy to the huge store not far from the river.
We parked in the open parking lot. Several snow-covered cars sat, but there were no fresh tire tracks or footprints in the snow. The glass entrance doors were shattered, leaving the building wide open. Joe and Bryce pulled their Humvee close to the entrance. They stepped out and after a minute of looking inside, they walked through the doors.
They emerged about fifteen minutes later. One pulled out his handheld radio, and Bryce’s voice came through. “All clear. Not a single zed on initial pass. The place looks to be cleared out of ammo and guns.” With the exception of Clutch’s handheld radio he’d had with him when we’d burned the bridge bastards, all the other handhelds were all still on board the Aurora, making Clutch’s a valuable commodity.
“Roger that,” Tyler responded. “All right everyone, we’re camping in here for the night. All scouts report to the front to make a full clearing pass. Everyone else, stay in your vehicles until I give the all-clear.”
The two gas trucks couldn’t get the same frequencies as the military vehicles, so Tyler stopped by each to relay his orders.
“That means we’re up,” Clutch said as he climbed down. We still had our rifles, but the scouts off duty when the fire broke out on the Aurora couldn’t get to their rifles in time. Many still had their machetes and swords, but were at a definite disadvantage if shit hit the fan now.
I grabbed my rifle and stepped outside. My boots left sooty prints in the snow. When Clutch joined my side, we headed slowly toward Tyler.
Scouts now made up about half of Camp Fox. Before the fire, three out of every four Fox survivors were scouts, and nearly all were Guardsman. Manpower had been Fox’s greatest strength. But when civilians ran out during the fire, many scouts ran in to save who and what they could. So many had been lost. Camp Fox wouldn’t intimidate any enemy now.
As we approached the huge store, I noticed the pile of burnt bodies near the building. Still covered with snow, I could only assume—and hope—they were zeds. I stepped through the doors. Glass crunched under my boots.
Inside, we walked under a ceiling of antlers that led to a wide-open space of clothes and merchandise. Much of it had been knocked over and shoved into piles. “Spread out,” Tyler said. “Stay in pairs and yell if you come across a tango.” He pointed to each team and then in a direction for them to head. After he motioned for us to head toward the boat section, Clutch and I started walking.
As we searched our section, I couldn’t help but admire the rows of new boats and jet skis. “This place is a goldmine.”
“I agree. There’s plenty of gear still here that we can use,” he said. “But I’d bet any food is as far gone as the ammo. We’d better find something for everyone by tomorrow or else their moods are going to turn shitty.”
“Shittier, you mean,” I said with a smirk, and we continued our search.
After making sure the store was absolutely, positively clear of zeds, Camp Fox was reestablished for the night in the hunting area toward the back of the store. The entrance was blocked off with a Humvee.