The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living by Joshua Guess Page B

different part of the line.
    After stuffing a thousand tiny loaves of bread into a thousand bags, any break from the monotony was a blessing.
    As it turned out, the food was the easy part. Kell spent many more hours loading bullets into magazines, which was its own special sort of hell. The work seemed easy at first since he could do it while sitting, but after the first few dozen rounds went in, his fingers began to ache. Then his hands hurt. Then his arms. Somewhere around the twentieth full magazine, his left pinky started to spasm.
    Still, he kept going. No one else was quitting because they hurt, and it needed to be done.
    The larger part of the preparations had long been finished, of course. There had been vehicles in need of overhauls, fuel to parse out, assignments to manage, and a thousand other details and items. The food and bullets were the last two major projects tackled for the simple reasons that the food had a limited life span and the bullets were brought by a group of volunteers. You can't fill magazines with bullets you don't have.
    The work was grueling, but they got there in the end.
    Most of the homes in New Haven had a ladder of some kind leading to the roof. Before the place had walls, the easiest way to escape an incursion of zombies was to go up one floor. Though the need for those escape routes was rare now, it wasn't odd to see people sitting on the roof of a house as you walked through.
    Kell sat atop the clinic, watching the final loading of the assault force's vehicles. The line stretched up and over the hill, continuing out of sight and running the full length of the road. It was a staggering display, easily the largest group of people Kell had seen since before The Fall began.
    The men and women passing packs of food and ammo down the line, aided by a smattering of older children, were not somber. Though he couldn't make out words, he could see the laughter, the smiles. Though they prepared for a dangerous job, still those people found moments of joy with one another, even though most were strangers.
    Kell smiled.
    A rattling caught his attention, the ladder tapping against the roof where the connection was a bit loose. Laura's head popped up over the edge, red hair burning bright in the fading autumn light.
    She picked her way across the old shingles, careful not to slip. “Guess you're feeling better if you can climb up here,” Laura said.
    “It's not done healing, but it works,” Kell replied as she sat next to him. “Come to watch the convoy leave with me?”
    Laura shook her head. “I was walking past the offices, and Will flagged me down. Asked if I'd seen you, and wanted me to let you know that there's a spot waiting if you want to go with them. They aren't leaving for another hour or so...”
    “I don't know what good I'd be,” Kell said, surprised. “Can't get around quietly like this, and I can't fight or draw a bow.”
    Laura caught his eye. “Maybe you should go ask Will about it, then. I'm just the messenger.”
    He began to haul himself to his feet, but stopped. “What about you? No interest in going with them?” It was the closest he had come to the topic of her remaining behind during the previous outing.
    “Not really,” she said. There was a reluctance in those two words, as if uttering them was a fight.
    “What is it?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
    “I'm fine, Kell,” she said. “I just don't have any urge to put myself in the middle of that fight.”
    “Or any fight, according to Kate.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain could register them, and he regretted saying it at once.
    Laura, however, only smiled. “We'll talk more when you get back.”
     
     
    Will, as it transpired, wanted to give Kell the chance to see the fight with the Hunters through to the very end. He had guessed as much, but a brief conversation later Kell found himself tucked into the cab of Dodger's truck, contemplating everything he knew about the job ahead as the