Billy Sunday stood at the back of the squad. He tried to look less of a threat, but he kept his hand close to his pistol holster. He felt he could draw and fire before anyone else knew what he was doing.

The water from the river was slackening off, but if he could get to the bed, he figured he could cover a few miles before the natives caught up with him.

Then it would depend on how many he could drop before he ran out of bullets.

He didn't doubt the others were doing the same kind of calculation.

“Thanks for pulling us out of the water,” said Spinnelli. “We're new around here.”

“Apparently,” said one of the native women. Her accent was some kind of Indian/Japanese mix to Billy's ear. “Welcome to our enclave. What brought you to our part of the world?”

“Luck,” said Spinnelli. “We got lost in the desert and when we saw the river, we decided to follow it to some place to get food and water. We had to blow a hole in the plants to get on the water.”

“You blew a hole in the plants?,” asked the woman. “Where? We have to repair it as fast as possible.”

“Up river,” said Spinnelli. “Sunday can take you back up there so you can look at it.”

“Sunday?,” asked the native.

“That's me, ma'am,” said Billy. “If you want to look at it, we might want to hurry before night falls.”

“Before the husks,” said the woman. She nodded. “Let's go. Sheva, take the rest of the party into the city and have them wait for Dave so everything can be handled. I will go with this Sunday to assess the damage to the picket.”

“Keep an eye out for those zombies, Billy,” said Spinnelli. “Do you need more ammunition?”

“I doubt it,” said Billy. “Without you slowpokes, I can outrun those things in my sleep.”

“All right,” said Spinnelli. “Lead on, ma'am. We'll be right behind you.”

Sheva looked at the other woman. She nodded in affirmation. Sheva started walking along the river bank, following stones set in the ground. Plants grew on the desert side of the steps. Some of them turned to track the newcomers with spinning leaves and yawning maws.

The threat didn't have to be stated as far as Billy was concerned. One wrong move and the group of mercenaries would be turned into moving targets.

The grenade launcher wouldn't cut down enough plants before they chewed up the soldiers.

“So you encountered the husks?,” asked the woman as she gestured for Billy to lead the way.

“The gray things?,” asked Billy.

“Yes,” said the woman. “Don't you have them where you are from?”

“No,” said Billy. “We killed a few of them a while ago, but there was a column of plants there too. They shot a bunch that we couldn't deal with on our own.”

“We grow them to hate the husks,” said the woman. “They are our defenders.”

Billy didn't see any weapons. Were the plants all the people here had? Introducing gunpowder and lead might change how things were done for the settlers.

It would make killing the zombies easier in his opinion.

Billy paused when he was in sight of where they had blown the gap in the defensive line. The plants turned to stare at him with leaves spinning up for an assault. He pointed at the hole without venturing further.

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“What did you use to do this?,” asked the native. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“One of my friends has a weapon that shoots a big arrow,” said Billy. He wasn't quite sure if she knew what an arrow was.

“An arrow did this?,” said the woman. She gestured at the hole.

“It was on fire,” said Billy.

He didn't want to get into an explanation of projectiles designed to carry an explosive to a target and then blowing up. He didn't know what they had other than their watchdog plants, and he didn't want to find out.

The plants looked bad enough to fight as far as he could see.

The woman bent down to examine the result of the grenade. She shook her head as she rubbed the plants on either side of the gap. Some of them had been scorched bad enough they barely responded to her touch.

“Could you get me some water from the river,” said the woman.

Billy took the top off of his canteen and handed it over. The river water sloshed around inside. The woman nodded as she sniffed the liquid. She poured the water over the burned plants.

“Could you get some more?,” she asked.

Billy took the canteen back and made his way down to the river. He dipped it in the vanishing water. He looked down both ways. He could see the plants lined up as far as he could see. That was a long line of vegetation in the middle of the desert.

He took the flask back to the woman and gave it to her. He looked down the river.

“The water is going away,” he said.

“We only have so long to secure our supplies,” said the woman. “We think it's an underground spring that gushes up to the surface. No one has been able to find the source in my lifetime.”

“Do the plants go that far?,” asked Billy. He had seen miles of plants grow naturally. What would these strange plants do in the desert?

“I don't know,” said the woman. “We encourage them to protect the water for us, and for them.”

Billy refilled the canteen again. The burned plants looked better. The water seemed to have caused the charred parts to flake off. New growth was revealed.

He had so many questions. He held them in. It was best to wait until he found out what the others had seen if they hadn't been massacred for burning the plants down.

“All right,” said the woman. “They look all right enough to let stand. I'll have to bring some potter soil out here later to give them something to build on other than the water.”

Billy nodded. He looked at the river bed. The water was almost gone. He jogged down and scooped up some more of the precious water before it was completely gone.

“I'm going to need to get a shovel and plant another defender in this scorched gap,” said the woman.

“I can dig a hole while you get your plant,” said Billy. He took off his pack. He pulled an entrenchment tool off a strap and unfolded the blade. “How deep do you need the hole?”

“This deep,” she said. She indicated the depth with a finger across her forearm. “The ground can be tough.”

“I'll be here when you get back,” said Billy. “It shouldn't be that big a deal.”

“Just watch out,” said the woman. “The husks can approach in the daylight too. We've seen them try to get through the line at random times.”

“They don't seem that tough,” said Billy. “If they get through the gap, I'll hold them off as long as I can.”

“How long will that be?,” asked the woman.

“Until I run out of bullets,” said Billy. “Go ahead. I've got this covered.”

He could tell she wanted to ask what bullets were, but she marched down the riverbank instead and left him alone to do what he said he would do.

He used the tool on the ground, breaking it up first, then shoveling it out of the way. Every third dig, he scanned the horizon. He didn't want to be caught in the open if another mob of zombies showed up. That was something he could do without.

And he doubted he had enough bullets to handle a crowd like they had seen the night before.

Billy paused when he thought he had the hole deep enough. The plants had let him alone, but he could tell they were watching him. He doubted they would be happy if he started moving around without an escort.

He wondered how smart the plants were. If they were as smart as dogs, he could see how they could factor him as an enemy. He couldn't run without getting shot at unless he dropped a grenade of some kind.

Billy shook the entrenchment tool clean before putting it back on its strap. He looked out at the horizon with his scope. So far, so good. He was alone as far as he could tell.

He turned his scope up and down the dry river bed. He didn't see anything where the water had run from. He spotted the woman and another native, a man, approaching. He saw they had a cart walking between them. He lowered the rifle.

He didn't have a need to shoot someone yet. He wondered why they were so friendly. He put it down to wanting to know what was going on over punishing strangers for burning personal property.

The woman led the cart over to where Billy waited. She nodded at the hole he had dug. The cart settled on its spindly wooden knees to wait.

“We're going to plant another Shoot in the hole and then cover it up with potter's soil,” said the woman. “If it takes, we're done with the repair.”

“All right,” said Billy, looking at the supplies on the cart.