“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.

Bill jumped down and stared at the plane. “You take off on this road? Isn’t that dangerous with all these trees?”

“Nah,” I said. “It’s a lot less dangerous than the airport.” I headed to the back of the truck and dropped the lift gate. Clutch casually screwed the cap on his steaming thermos and slid it into the bag on his wheelchair. After twelve or so hours of rest, Clutch’s pain had receded, and his mood had improved. His face seemed lighter this morning, and I knew he was eager for his first flight with me. I pulled two two-by-sixes out and made a ramp against the truck.

“The airport is close to Chow Town,” Jase said, walking past us. “So the risk of zeds getting in our way on takeoff or landing is a lot higher. This road is straight and close to the park. Besides, it’s not like we have to worry about traffic.”

Clutch wheeled his chair down the primitive ramp, and we headed for the Cessna 172. “The weather looks good today,” he said.

I looked out to the sky another time. “Yeah. It’s great flying weather.” I went down on a knee and began removing the tie-downs.

“Don’t you have to land at an airport to get fuel?” Bill asked from behind me.

Once I tugged the first rope from the plane, I moved onto the next. “No. We truck the av-gas in.” I pointed to the pickup truck we’d arrived in. “You see that white tank on the back of the truck?”

He looked and then frowned. “That’s for the airplanes? I thought it was an extra tank for the truck.”

I shook my head. “We have a full-sized gas truck for all of our cars and trucks. We use that tank just for the airplanes.” We’d found the fuel tank on the back of some farmer’s truck. We’d cleaned out the tank and filled it with aviation fuel at the airport. “It works pretty good,” I tacked on before glancing over to see Jase helping Clutch get into the front seat. I looked back at Bill. “We’ll be taking off soon. We’ll be in the air for a few hours, so if you need to hit the bathroom, this is your last chance.”

“It’s okay. I’m ready to go.” Bill wrung his hands and headed toward Jase.

“Jase can help get you strapped in,” I said and walked my preflight checklist. After I made a final circle around the plane, I headed for the cockpit.

“We’re all set. Clutch is up front since it would be too much of a hassle to put him in the backseat,” Jase said as he held the door open.

“That makes sense,” I said. “I guess it’s time, then.” While Jase stood off to the side of the plane, I climbed into the front left seat of the small four-seater.

In the seat next to mine, Clutch was busy stashing his backpack under his seat.

Bill was strapped in the seat behind Clutch and already had a headset on. I set my spear and rifle alongside Clutch’s Blaser rifle between our seats, and buckled into the pilot’s seat.

I smiled at Clutch strapped in next to me. “Our first flight together.”

He nodded and for the first time in months, a genuine smile emerged. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Jase is my usual co-pilot. But since you’re riding shotgun, you want to be my navigator on this run?”