“Ready.”
He had my boots and jacket waiting for me by the door. I quickly put both on and took the rifle from him.
“Run to the bunker if anything goes south,” he said just before he released the latch.
The hiss of air was barely audible. We didn’t hesitate, though, to see if the infected heard. Together, we moved forward, our steps quiet.
How many times had we done this? Hundreds of times because we needed to feed and water the livestock daily. We knew the hiding places. We knew the difference between normal cattle sounds and distressed sounds. And having a dead human in the barn definitely distressed them.
Thankfully, there were no distressed calls from the pen.
Slipping into the main area, we progressed down the aisle, and the heifers called out to us as we passed them. Adam paused at the exit door near the silo, the last place we’d seen the infected, and exchanged his gun for his hunting knife. I hated that we couldn’t kill the runners at a safe distance but understood the need for silence.
When he opened the door, I was right behind him. The runner, who was still in the yard, charged at us. Trusting Adam’s ability to deal with her, I scanned the area for additional threats. Only one set of tracks marred the thin layer of snow on the ground, though, and nothing else moved in the trees beyond.
The scuffle noises grew in volume before silencing. I glanced at him as he picked the body up. I hated this part. Not only did we need to move farther away from the safety of the bunker, but we were about to make some noise. It didn’t matter that it was decoy noise to cover the sounds I’d make while clearing the panel. It was still noise.
My gaze didn’t stop moving as we circled to the back of the house. Adam took over watching the area as I carefully removed the drop pit’s cover. Silently, he tossed the woman inside then helped me lean the sheets of wood against the house.
There was a pattern to everything we did. Move, listen, watch, and repeat. That pattern ended the moment he untied the wind chime over the pit.
We hurried toward the front of the house. Together, we slid the hidden ladder out from under the porch and got it into position.
He leaned in close. “Don’t look down. Don’t make a sound. You’ll be fine.”
Easy for him to say when he was the one on the ground.
With my rifle slung across my body, I grabbed the ladder and silently ascended. The black roof shingles were clear enough that the bottom of my boots scraped against them as I moved, and the sound carried through the air more than I would have liked. Focused on the task, I crossed to the solar panels and started brushing away the ice-covered snow as quietly as possible.
I did a rush job, knowing what little snow remained on the dark panels would finish melting, thanks to the clear skies. Walking carefully, I returned to the ladder. Trying to find that first rung without looking down was a death-defying bitch. I managed, though, and clinging to the rungs, I carefully descended.
With the wind chimes tinkling gently behind the house, we hid the ladder and crossed the yard to the open pasture beyond.
In the beginning, sound had attracted the infected. Then, at night, they’d been drawn in by light. Now, they were more advanced. Adam and I out in the open would be enough to attract them even if he and I were as quiet as church mice.
The movement of the windswept, long grass exposed by the melting snow made me twitchy. My gaze never stopped scanning for hidden infected. By the time we reached the old windmill base, I was wound so tight I wondered how I’d ever make it up those rungs.
Adam tapped my shoulder to gain my attention. When I glanced at him, he made a heart with his hands. I knew he was asking for my love and trust. He had both. It was the infected I didn’t love or trust.
Still, I nodded and took a calming breath. His lips tilted in the same boyish grin that I’d fallen in love with the first day we’d met. In my mind, I could hear him say, “There’s my girl,” before he returned his attention to the trees lining the field.
Grabbing the lowest rung of the built-in ladder, I glanced down to place my foot. Something else caught my gaze, though.
Blood dotted some of the long brown grass poking through the snow within the base support. I looked up and saw something wedged between the rotor, turbine housing, and tower.
Trap.
My heart pounded, but I didn’t let panic set in. Instead, I scrambled up the ladder because there was no “right” choice anymore. We needed the power. If Adam saw the blood, he’d rush us back to the barn.
So I climbed fast, and when I saw the arm haphazardly tied to the turbine housing with a shirt, I didn’t even hesitate to grab the material. Within seconds, I knocked the arm free and was monkeying back down. The frozen limb landed with a thud below, and I heard Adam softly swear.
In my head, I pictured infected pouring from the trees. I was so terrified that I didn’t even stop to think of the height when I dropped the last few feet.
Adam grabbed my arm and started running. We made it to the side door and hauled ass to the bunker. The door barely closed behind us when he grabbed me by the arms.
“What were you thinking? An arm doesn’t accidentally fall into a turbine.”
“But we both know I did what had to be done. We need the power for the lights and to watch all the cameras. How many infected do you think there were?”