Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 130

LOGAN

Just kill me already, Logan thought, scratching the back of his neck and wiping the sweat off his brows. He could never get used to summer like this, one that seemed determined to bake your insides in an oven out in the open. Oregon weather, or at least one in the valley, was more forgiving.

He refused to be beaten by the weather 109 days into the apocalypse. Three-and-a-half months of running, fighting, screaming, and stabbing...he had experienced much worse. But I will do anything for it to rain just about now.

On the bright side, he survived 109 days into this shit show.

Logan passed the binoculars back to Alfie. "The RV is still there," he said. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Honestly, he had grown bored with this routine, waiting up on the hill for an hour or two, looking down at a large stretch of highway filled with abandoned vehicles and the infected. He'd rather have some of those muffins that Vivian had made for Bren than stay out here under the summer heat. Maybe he could have spent more time with Bren, too. But alas, they had planned this scavenging run for a few days now.

"Do you think the horde's moving up north? Drawn to the refugee camps, maybe? There's less of them out on the highway than two days ago," Alfie said.

"Maybe our luck is finally turning. The soldiers up there might give them a good shelling once they come knocking."

"You think the camps are still standing? The radio's been repeating the same message for the past five days now. They might have retreated to Pittsburgh, drawn the new borders for the red zone after Harrisburg fell."

Logan shrugged. "Let's hope not. I mean, it sucks for whoever's up there, but it gives us a clear path to the RV." But he doubted it. The camps set up by the military to rescue survivors from Harrisburg served as a perfect distraction on many occasions. There was still a hundred milling around the highway, perhaps more. Not the odds he was looking for, and he didn't feel like having a death wish today. The guns can wait.

"Are you sure your guns and supplies are still in there?" Kenny asked, chewing on peppermint gum. Downwind, Logan could smell it.

"Should be. The RV looks untouched from the outside since we found it. No signs of a break-in."

"Well, sorry to say, boys, but this will be a suicide mission if you're thinking about going down there."

Alfie sighed. "Kind of why we're here. We're hoping to find the rest of our group. We thought they might be looking for the RV as well, and when we do find them, we'll have the manpower to get it back."

Kenny smiled. "You are an optimistic dude."

"I try to," said Alfie.

"And I wonder why you came along with us, Kenny?" Logan asked. It was the first time the man had joined them on a scavenging hunt. It seemed he would rather stay back on the farm and look out for his parents and his niece and nephews than step into harm's way, but the air had changed around him. Logan wondered what Bren had told him last night that made him come with them.

"For my good ol' charm? I thought you might want the company," Kenny said. "And don't underestimate my height, lover boy. I grew up around these parts, and I know how to shoot a rifle better than your momma could."

"Sorry. I just gotta ask."

"Don't sweat it. I'm new to you, and you're new to me. We have to learn to trust each other. Isn't that the currency nowadays?"