Jase was a bit like the brother I’d never had, but he was more like a son I’d probably never have. He had a good heart. Even with all the shit he’d seen, there was still an unjaded piece left in his soul. I’d give my life for his in a heartbeat. He was a far better person than I was, and I was thankful that he came to Clutch’s farm that day many months ago…the day our family was born.
The idea of a real-life son terrified me. I often thought back to the time Clutch and I had unprotected sex and was thankful that I hadn’t ended up pregnant. I shivered at the thought of having a tiny, defenseless, crying baby surrounded by zeds.
Shaking the thought from my head, I walked over to the table, grabbed the stack of FAA sectional maps, and opened up the one for Minneapolis. I laid the map next to the hand-drawn map Bill had scrawled during dinner. On it, the buildings of the university were squares and rectangles, with a thick line drawn at the bottom indicating a road he was convinced would work as a landing strip. After lighting a candle, I scrutinized the sectional, circling every airport that had fuel along the route to Marshall and back. Taking off and landing wasn’t much of an issue anymore. Any stretch of road without power lines worked, especially since the planes I flew weren’t large by any means. I could feather the prop and land nearly silently. As long as no zeds were too close when I restarted for takeoff, I could be safely in the air before any got close.
“I didn’t know you were doing a scouting run tomorrow,” Jase said without stopping.
“We have a scouting run tomorrow. A long distance one,” I replied. “If Clutch is up to it. Tyler wants him on this run.”
Jase rolled over. His brows rose. “Really? Where are we heading?”
“The folks from Marshall said there might be some herds headed this way. I want to check that out. They seem to think zeds are migrating south for the winter. If that’s true, the more time we have to prepare, the better.”
Jase’s guffawed. “Zeds migrating? Like geese?”
I shrugged. “I suppose so. I thought it sounded pretty farfetched, too.”
He simply gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “How big of herds are we talking about?”
I thought about telling him what Manny had said, but decided Jase had enough bad things to dream about already. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Jase’s eyes narrowed. “They must be big for Tyler to want you to fly out that far.”
I shrugged. “We head out at sunrise. This will be a top-off-the-fuel-tanks kind of mission. If we can, we’ll also check out the folks still holed up at the university in Marshall. Otherwise, we’ll at least try to do a bag drop.”
“Cool.” He then nodded to Clutch. “He was out cold when I got home. I’m surprised he’s still asleep.”
“Freeley was a bit rougher than we expected,” I said. “I think it banged him up a bit.”
He frowned for a moment before his features softened. “He’ll feel better in no time.”
I wished I had his confidence. While I knew Clutch would say he was feeling better, I also knew he would lie about his pain just to ride along. Clutch needed more time to heal, but he also needed to keep his spirit up. Being cooped up at the park was a constant numbing barrage against his spirit. I didn’t know how to find the balance, and so I took the easy way out and let Clutch decide.
I circled another airport on the map. “Oh, and one of the newcomers will be riding along. He’s got a wife and daughter still at Marshall.”
Jase gave a crooked smile. “We could leave early, leave him behind.”
“Believe me, I’ve already considered it, but this guy really needs this. That’s another reason I need you along—to make sure he doesn’t go stupid while we’re up there.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
I snorted. Yeah, the Cessna now had duct tape covering a bullet hole in the fuselage from the last time we gave a newcomer a lift. “Get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
* * *
Bill was waiting—practically prancing—when Clutch, Jase, and I arrived at the gate the following morning. As we approached in the small red truck, he waved and jogged to the edge of the gate.
I gave him a full once-over. His hair was still damp, and he wore a fresh shirt. That he’d listened to me yesterday and cleaned himself up a bit gave me some confidence that he’d behave on this trip. “Morning,” I called out. “Are you ready to go?”
He nodded with a smile, his eyebrows raised high. “You bet. Let’s go.” He lifted a small duffle. “I also brought some letters and things from the others.”
“All right. Go ahead and climb in back.” I gestured behind me, where Clutch sat in his wheelchair against the big white portable fuel tank, sipping coffee in a thermos while he eyed the newcomer. Before the outbreak, Clutch had never touched caffeine. Ever since his concussion, he guzzled the stuff whenever he had a chance.
As Jase drove us down the road, I craned my head out the window. Long wisps of white marred an otherwise clear sky. I leaned back in with a sigh of relief. “Fingers crossed, it should hopefully be a smooth flight today.”
“Good,” Jase drawled. “That last flight was not much fun. And by ‘not much fun,’ I mean it was pretty much the worst experience ever. ”
I chuckled, remembering Jase’s face buried in a sick-sack thirty minutes into a two-hour scouting run. “Poor Jasen can’t handle bumpy air,” I cooed.
He gave me a droll stare for a moment and then flipped me off, and I grinned even harder.
Jase’s stomach couldn’t handle turbulence, but it was Clutch’s back that couldn’t risk any turbulence today. Over the past couple of months, Jase had filled in for Clutch on supply runs, and he’d become my co-pilot. He was no longer the kid who’d come to Clutch’s farm—bloody and carrying his dying dog—six months ago. He’d only turned sixteen last week, but, aside from a youthful face, no one would ever mistake Jase for still being a boy.
In his eyes, anyone could see that he’d suffered more than most. Not many had to kill their own father like Jase had. Many would’ve been broken. Not Jase. He’d become the consummate survivor. He was the best of all of us. He did what it took to survive, yet he somehow managed to retain his humanity, something I felt like I had to fight to hold onto. Whether fighting zeds or on scouting runs, I easily trusted him as much as I trusted Clutch and Tyler.
I also hated bringing him into danger. I wanted to keep him safe behind the park’s gates. Every time he left the park, some place deep within my heart panged with dread. A part of me craved to lock him in the cabin, but I knew that would be a disservice to him. He needed to learn how to survive on his own, and protecting him would only hurt him.
Still, it was hard.
Jase brought the truck around a curve in the road, bringing into sight the Cessna 172 and shot-up Piper Cub sitting in the small parking lot of a rest area, both ready to go at a moment’s notice. For most of my scouting trips, I took the slower Cub. For today’s long trip, I needed the speed and distance the Cessna offered, even though the 172 could in no way be called a fast airplane.
I kept the planes as close to the park as possible. It made sense given we kept the area around the park clear of zeds, and I felt safer knowing I could be in the air in less than five minutes in case shit hit the park. Jase parked on the edge of the road, and I stepped out. The air was cool and damp, and the early morning sun caused the dew to glisten on the Cessna’s wings.