100 Days in Deadland (29 page)

Ten days later

“One vehicle coming in at our two o’clock,” Jase said while he adjusted his night-vision binoculars. “I can’t make out how many are inside yet, but Mutt doesn’t like this situation.”

I threw a quick glance at the fidgeting coyote at Jase’s ankles before returning focus to my rifle’s scope. “Does she like any situation?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Dinnertime, bedtime, walks, any time there’s a chance to steal someone’s food.”

I chuckled as I lay on my stomach, the approaching vehicle in my sights. I was here in case things went to shit.

Hmph
.

I’d figured things had gone to shit the moment two Dogs called Tyler on the radio, asking for amnesty, especially with one of those Dogs being Sean. How many zeds had he personally dumped over the gate at the farm? I didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

Clutch had agreed. That’s why he took a second squad to come at the Dogs from behind in case this was an ambush. I wanted to be on his team, but unlike Clutch and even Jase, I wasn’t particularly strong in the field, making Clutch pleased since he preferred me to be as far from the action as possible. At least I was a good shot, and so I was made one of Camp Fox’s designated snipers.

The truck came to a stop at the prearranged intersection one hundred yards from our current position. Tyler might be an idealist but even he knew better than to allow Dogs to enter the Camp unescorted.

I adjusted my scope on the driver.
Sean, what are you up to?

I moved a millimeter to the left to make out the passenger.
Fucking Weasel
. This situation just kept getting better and better.

“I only see two Dogs,” Jase said.

“Same here,” I added.

“Okay. Give them the signal,” Tyler said while lying on the ground several feet from me.

Eddy came to his feet and clicked his flashlight on and off three times.

A light flashed three times in response from the Dogs’ truck.

“That’s our cue.” Tyler looked at the three of us. “These guys may be on the level, but play it safe. If anything smells funny, we cut and run.”

“Yes, sir,” the boys said, and I tacked on a “got it.”

Jase and Eddy had become hardened soldiers seemingly overnight, though I guess that’s what this world did to a person. They were young, and they clearly looked to Tyler as their hero, even though he couldn’t have been more than ten years their elder. When not with Tyler, they were often with Eddy’s mother, who had quickly adopted Jase as one of her own.

“Hold up. We’ve got incoming,” Jase said.

“Dogs?” Tyler asked.

“No. Zeds. Ten o’clock.”

“Cash, if you’ve got a shot, take it,” Tyler ordered.

I adjusted my scope. It was dark, but the night scope lit up the zeds just fine. I focused first on the hunched-over zed.
Pop
. Then on the hunched over petite zed.
Pop.
Then on the large lumbering male. Fire engulfed it before I pulled the trigger.

I squinted at the sudden flames. “That wasn’t me.”

“It looks like someone from the truck threw a Molotov cocktail,” Tyler said. “Jesus, just what we need. A flaming zed setting the countryside on fire” He pressed his headset. “Bravo, this is Alpha. Hold off. The Dogs are attacking the zeds only. Over.”

“
This is Bravo. Copy that,
” Clutch replied in my headset.

Tyler turned back to me. “Finish this before Sarge gets trigger happy.”

It was easy to find my target, since it was on fire and wobbling from side to side. “Swiggity swire, guess what’s on fire,” I murmured and pulled the trigger. Then smiled. “Swiggity swed, guess what’s dead.”

“All clear,” Jase said.

“Then let’s pick up our guests,” Tyler said, coming to his feet. “Let’s do this just like we planned. Jase, you’re with me. Cash, you cover us and wait for pickup from Bravo. Eddy will have your six.”

I gave Tyler a thumbs up.

“If these guys fuck with us, try to avoid kill shots. We need the information they have.”

I gave him another thumbs up.

I heard the Humvee start up and pull away, but I never took my eyes off the Dogs, waiting for them to make a wrong move. But the two men stood in front of their truck with its lights on. They stood without rifles and arms held out.

A gunshot behind me startled me, and I yanked around to see Eddy standing, facing away from me “Eddy?” I asked.

“Just one zed,” he replied. “All clear.”

I refocused. The Humvee headed down the gravel hill and stopped in front of them. Tyler and Jase got out and walked toward the Dogs.

Clutch’s voice came through my headset. “
This is Bravo. Get your asses out of there, Alpha. You’ve got a world of hungry trouble heading your way.”

I looked up from my scope but couldn’t make out anything in the dark fields. I narrowed my eyes and realized that the darkness itself was moving. My eyes widened. There went the assumption that zeds moved less at night. I looked through my scope to target the nearest risks.

“Be ready, Eddy,” I said. “Because a shitload of zeds are headed this way.”

I took my time targeting the zeds nearest to Tyler’s Humvee.

Get ’em where I want ’em.

Only when I knew I had kill shots, I fired. After four zeds fell, I clicked my headset. “This is Sweeper,” I said, using the call sign Tyler had given me after seeing me take out a zed over a hundred meters out. “Clear out, and I’ll lay cover as long as possible.”

Eddy fired more shots behind me, and it took everything to not turn around.

“Talk to me, Eddy,” I said.

“We need to get out of here soon. Very, very soon!”

I aimed and fired, accompanied by a symphony of gunfire to my right.

“This is Bravo. We’ll pick up Sweeper as soon as you’re clear.”

I would’ve told Clutch to hurry the fuck up, but I didn’t want to take my hand off my rifle for even a second. I fired three more shots before a Molotov cocktail flew through the air. I noticed Tyler yanking a Dog to the Humvee. As soon as the Dogs were loaded into the vehicle, I switched my sights back to the herd, with the fire spreading.

Eddy was sending off long bursts behind me.

“Alpha is Oscar Mike. Clear out!”

I continued to fire until I had to reload. The gunfire to my distant right became sporadic.

“This is Bravo. Sweeper, we’re on our way, so be ready.”

I clicked the mag into place, and turned around to help Eddy. A couple dozen dark shapes were tripping over their fallen comrades on their way after us. I lifted my rifle and started firing.

When they closed in too tight, I backed up and fired at their legs to slow them down. Headlights came up the hill from behind me, shining light on the zeds. It was a sight that I knew would give me nightmares for years. Jaundiced eyes reflected light almost like cats. Zeds opened and closed their stained mouths like they were imagining what it would be like to chew on us. They reached out to us with clawed, gnarled fingers—those who still had fingers, anyway.

The .30 cal on Clutch’s Humvee cut down the first line of zeds.

I grabbed Eddy and we sprinted toward the Humvee. The back door swung open and we tumbled inside.

Griz sped off. Tack stayed at the .30 cal.

“You okay?” Clutch demanded from his position in the front passenger seat.

“We’re good. We’re not bit,” I replied before rolling off Eddy and leaning back.

"Zeds take the whole ‘you are what you eat’ thing way too seriously," Eddy chuckled then dropped his head back. “Jesus, that was close.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and eyed Clutch. “The information those two Dogs have better be worth it.”

****

“…The militias are struggling, but they’re still fighting the good fight. Keep them in your prayers.

In further news, I’ve yet to verify the rumors circulating that a centralized government is being organized and that new ‘super’ cities are being architected. I’ve asked Lt. Col. Lendt at Camp Fox for confirmation, but I’ve gotten no response. Same story, different day. But I’m going to keep asking. You hear me, Lendt? I’m going to keep asking until you give me an answer or send in your troops and shut me up.

Here’s my thought for the day: The zeds are the enemy, so why is Lendt withholding information that could save lives? My advice? Trust no one, my friends, whether they have a pulse or not.

This is Hawkeye broadcasting on AM 1340. Be safe and know that you’re not alone.”

“That radio jockey is a splinter in my sphincter,” Lendt said as he sat down at the table where Clutch, Jase, Eddy, and I were eating leftovers from dinner. Mutt was tearing into our scraps on the floor.

“Have you met with Hawkeye before?” I asked, twirling more spaghetti around my fork.

“He hasn’t even tried to contact me,” Lendt replied. “And I’m not exactly a hard person to find.”

Hawkeye’s transmission was a recorded broadcast, one that I’d heard earlier, but they replayed his daily transmissions every four hours at the request of the civilians on base. His voice had something familiar about it, yet I couldn’t quite place him.

Not yet, anyway.

“Well, are you withholding information?” I asked.

“What goddamn information do I have to withhold?” Lendt countered, then cracked his neck. “Folks think that just because I’m a
colonel that I have some super-secret handshake. I know as much as anyone else. NORAD hasn’t made contact yet. Everything I hear is from other bases in the same boat as we are.”

“Have you thought about tracking down Hawkeye to set the record straight? Maybe offer to have him interview you on the air?” I asked. “It sounds like he’s trying to rile up the civvies against you.” Then it hit me. Hawkeye disliked Lendt, just like Doyle had. Yet, Lendt had done all right by me so far.

Lendt chuckled. “He’s definitely trying to rile folks up, but he’s a conspiracy theorist, and that’s what conspiracy theorists do. He’s one of those people who’s suspicious of anyone in authority. It doesn’t matter what I say, he’d find a way to make me out to be the asshole.”

Tyler set his tray on the table and saluted.

“At ease, Captain,” Lendt said.

Tyler took a seat and started cutting his spaghetti. “The two men are being kept in the brig tonight for both their and our safety, per your orders, sir.”

“They should be executed for treason,” Clutch said.

“Agreed,” I added quickly, especially when I discovered Weasel was the second Dog. I’d had the heebie-jeebies since.

“They will stand trial.” Lendt smirked. “Then they’ll be executed.”

Tyler frowned and put down his fork. “They surrendered. They deserve a fair trial. Doyle put a militia together as quickly as Camp Fox moved into action at the outbreak. A lot of good men joined up to help, and a lot of the people here now owe their lives to the militia. Now, we’re going to kill them for signing up to help and then going AWOL when they realized Doyle was no longer out for the greater good?”

“They’d had no problems obeying Doyle until now,” I countered. “Why the sudden change?”

Tyler held up a hand. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate, but maybe they did want out, but they couldn’t get out until now. Have you thought of that?”

“Have you thought that they may be here under Doyle’s direction?” Clutch asked, raising the same argument we’d been having ever since the Dogs contacted Lendt. “We should be thinking of what Doyle would want in this camp.”

Three days later             

My aim was off. The machete slit the zed’s windpipe wide open instead of cleaving its skull. The near-severed head swayed, and my next swing scalped it, sending half of its brain and what had been long blonde hair to the ground.

Clutch had brought Jase and me back out to the apple orchard to win back the apple tree and for some much-needed close-up fighting. I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed the exercise. I had become so dependent on my rifle that I’d let myself get rusty in hand-to-hand combat.

I swung the machete I’d grabbed from Jase’s stash and took off the arm of the zed reaching for me. It hissed and reached out with the other. I swung again. This time, the machete snagged on bone and didn’t go all the way through. I kicked the zed back and yanked my weapon free. When it came at me again, I quit playing with it and finished it with a slanted blow down its face. Half of its head and face slid off, and I looked to see how many zeds remained.

Five.

Clutch demolished one.

Four.

I went for the ugliest zed next. Its nose had rotted off and only one ear remained. I made my way around it, careful to keep plenty of space around me. It had been one of Clutch’s first rules he’d taught me:
never back yourself into a corner.

The zed followed my movements.

I let it come to me.
Get ’em where I want ’em.

I raised the machete and brought it down in a straight line and shredded the zed from its chin down to its privates. “Oh, God.” I stepped back, trying not to breathe, but the stench caused bile to rise in my throat.

The zed’s organs tumbled out, jiggling with each step it took toward me. Clutch finished it off since I was too busy puking.

“Let’s not do that again,” Clutch advised, holding his arm over his nose.

“Yeah,” I said, now dealing with the foul aftertaste in my mouth.

“Hey, guys. Check this one out,” Jase said from behind us.

I wiped my mouth and turned to find Jase grinning. In front of him was the last standing zed missing its hands and the lower part of its jaw.

“Finish it,” Clutch said. “This isn’t a game.”

Jase shot an adolescent glare before taking his axe and bringing it down on the zed’s skull. We double checked every zed before I grabbed an apple off the tree and took a bite.

Jase turned to the shed. “C’mon, Mutt. It’s all clear.”

Mutt peeked from the shadows, and then trotted over to brush against her master. He handed her an apple.

“She’s quite the fighter,” I said.

Jase shrugged. “She’s more of a lover than a fighter.”

The coyote preferred to keep her distance from zeds. I remembered that feeling. While I still hated zeds, I no longer froze in terror when I saw one. Maybe I was numb to the violence, but I could kill without feeling a single pang of guilt. Sometimes, when I spent too much time thinking, I wondered if we hadn’t reached the end of the world but that we’d reached the end of humanity.

Something hit my head, and I jerked around to find Jase pulling back to throw another apple at me.

“Nice. Real nice,” I muttered and picked up the apple and stepped out of the way as Clutch backed the truck up to the tree. I hopped onto the bed and started plucking ripe apples from the tree.

Jase joined me and we plucked several bushels of fresh apples while Clutch stood watch. Jase said Mutt was on guard duty, too, though with the way the coyote was sprawled out in the sunshine, I found that hard to believe.

On our way to the park, our work at the Camp done for now, we stopped at the gas station to grab more supplies. Several more zeds had meandered onto the lot, but they were easily dispatched. I’d forgotten how much easier looting was with three of us, rather than just two.

When Jase went to open the glass doors to the restaurant, I stopped. “Not there.”

The two kid zeds were nowhere in sight, but it still didn’t feel right. I’d never seen zeds retain any semblance of humanity, but this pair had seemed different. Maybe I’d let them get to me and my mind played tricks on me. They haunted my dreams. But that day, when we’d seen them, they’d showed no aggression. It had seriously freaked me out.

I didn’t tell Jase about them, and Clutch had simply nodded in agreement as he walked into the store and started clearing shelves.

I looked across the shelves, and hopelessness wrenched my heart. This gas station was an easy place to loot yet many of the shelves were still full, aside from what we’d taken the last time. Were there really so few people left?

Listless, I helped Clutch fill the large bags we’d brought. The only other sound was the zed still thumping against the bathroom door. We’d cleared out much of the store before I realized there were only two of us. “Where’s Jase?” I asked.

Clutch nodded toward the liquor section.
             

I rolled my eyes, and we headed into the section to find Jase with a nearly full cart.

“Not that,” Clutch said, grabbing the wine coolers from Jase’s hands. “If you’re going to drink, do it right.” He handed the kid a bottle of whiskey. I grabbed the remaining bottles of Everclear and vodka, but didn’t have any intention to drink it. Alcohol worked great for disinfecting wounds, starting fires, and especially cleaning zed goo off things.

I grabbed an armful of wine bottles. “We should get going,” I said. “I want to get unloaded before dark.”

Jase hurriedly grabbed a couple more bottles before heading out with us. Mutt waited in the back of the truck, chewing on an apple.

“Save some for us,” I called out.

The coyote raised her ears and then bit into another apple.

Clutch took a draw of whiskey before climbing in behind the wheel. Jase watched, grabbed a bottle, and took a drink. He coughed and bent over.

I patted his shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now.” I hopped into the truck and Jase climbed in the back several seconds later.

Clutch smirked. “You look a little green around the gills.”

“I’m. Fine,” he choked out.

“Give it time,” Clutch said. “It’ll get easier.”

And it did.

By sunset, Jase was drunk for the first time in his life, and we discovered he was a happy drunk, finding pretty much anything and everything funny. We sat in the park office, and the booze helped the MREs from Camp Fox taste better. And I had long since noticed that apples and wine paired beautifully together for dessert. Clutch was quiet, though he’d already put a hurting on his bottle of whiskey.

Still, it had been a nice night. The three of us together again and not running for our lives.

A couple hours later, we’d all passed out, though I awoke to the sounds of Clutch’s nightmares. They were even worse when he drank, and he drank often.

“He still has them,” Jase said quietly.

I found Jase propped up on an elbow.

“Yeah.”

“He should get help,” he said. “There’s someone at Camp Fox he can talk to.”

“Get some sleep,” I replied.

Jase collapsed with a thud, and I figured he was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

I wrapped myself tighter around Clutch, and he quieted somewhat, but I could never break through his pain. Sometimes I wondered if he thought he deserved the nightmares and depression because of the things he’d done. He’d never said anything to that effect, because if he had, I would’ve firmly reminded him that everything he’d done was to save lives and that he was a hero. But, those kinds of words would fall on deaf ears. Clutch was the hardest on himself.

In the months that I’d known him, Clutch had opened only a tiniest sliver of himself to me. He kept things bottled up inside, acting impervious all day. But a mind was a pressure cooker. It could only take so much before it must let off steam or else explode. Clutch’s nightmares and killing zeds were his steam.

I was afraid of what would happen if he ever exploded.