100 Days in Deadland (30 page)

“Wake up! Wake up!”

I bolted awake and then grabbed my throbbing head. “
Shh,” I ordered Jase as I reached for a bottle of water.

Clutch pulled himself to his feet, and I grimaced at him before taking a long swig. How could he drink three times as much as me yet wake up ready to take on the world?

“What happened?” Clutch asked, stretching his shoulders.

“Captain Masden just called on the radio. Colonel Lendt was killed, and both Dogs have gone missing.”

I got to my feet and stood, in stunned paralysis, as his words cut through my cotton-filled brain. While we’d been drinking and enjoying ourselves, the Dogs had escaped, killed Lendt, and did God only knew what else at the Camp.

We should’ve been there.

Clutch scrambled into his clothes, and I kicked it into gear and hurried as fast I could in a hangover haze. We were loaded into the truck in less than five minutes. Clutch drove while I finished dressing and we all took turns with the Tylenol, food, and water. Twenty-two miles later, I started to feel semi-human again.

When we reached Camp Fox, the gate opened and the guards motioned us through. Clutch sped down the winding roads until we stopped at a familiar brick building. I grabbed my rifle.

We jogged up the steps and through the doors of HQ, which had now become town hall, to find at least half of the Camp’s population milling around. Some looked like they were in shock, others looked downright pissed.

“Tell us what’s going on!” someone shouted.

“We have a traitor!” someone else shouted back.

“String them up!”

The shouting and finger pointing continued. I gave Clutch the look, the one that insinuated we were mice about to step into a mousetrap.

Tack motioned to us from across the crowd, and we weaved toward where he was blocking people from entering the hallway. He looked like he was about to be overrun. “Captain Masden needs every hand on deck. He’s in the Colonel’s office,” he said, moving aside to let us through.

Clutch nodded, and Jase and I followed him down the hall. We stepped inside to find the walls riddled with bullets. Five body bags littered the floor, making dark heaps across the wood.

“Crap,” Jase said breathlessly.

When Tyler saw us, he patted the injured man’s shoulder and headed our way. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got a Charlie Foxtrot on our hands.”

“The two Dogs,” I said.

Tyler nodded tightly. “Likely, since they went missing late last night.”

“How’d they escape?” Clutch asked, the tone inferring he knew they’d escaped all along.

“Someone killed the guard and let them out.” Tyler rubbed his neck. “Damn it, I should’ve known better.”

“Who carries the keys?” Clutch asked, ignoring Tyler’s self-criticism.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head. “The guard on duty always carries a set. They could’ve gotten the keys off the guard.”

Clutch walked over to one of the five body bags and unzipped it, frowned, then
rezipped it.

Tyler rubbed his temples. “Lendt had coffee every morning with the civilian leadership council. These guys knew exactly when and where to hit.”

“What’s the status on the Dogs, Captain?” Clutch asked, all business.

“Unaccounted for,” Tyler replied. “I need every troop out there looking for who did this. I can’t trust the civilians. They’d turn this hunt into a lynch mob.”

“You can count on us,” I said.

Tyler smiled weakly. “I know. Griz is on point. Go see him at the chow hall for your assigned sectors. You’re relieved.”

He turned and walked off, leaving the three of us standing alone.

“I guess Tyler’s in charge now,” I said quietly.

“C’mon,” Clutch said and he led the way back down the hall and through the agitated crowd, several of whom threw us distrusting glares. When we reached the cafeteria, Griz was standing with Smitty. Both looked exhausted, though Smitty looked more tense than usual.

“Perfect timing,” Griz said. “Jase, you’re with
Smitty. He’ll fill you in.”

“Yes, sir,” Jase said and jogged to catch up with the slender, clean-cut soldier heading outside.

“Where do you need us?” Clutch asked before I could.

Griz turned and pointed at a spot on the map laid out across the table. “I’ve broken the Camp into sectors. We’re too short-staffed, so every pair gets two sectors. You guys have sectors thirty-one and thirty-two, but stay together. Whatever you do, don’t split up. Since everyone’s been accounted for, the traitor is still walking around. If you find the Dogs, we need them alive to interrogate them.”

“Understood,” Clutch said. “That it?”

He handed Clutch a radio. “Let’s find those fuckers.”

Clutch and I headed out. Sectors thirty-one and thirty-two were on the far edge of the base so we drove there. We silently walked through buildings and examined every shadow, finding nothing. The Dogs should’ve been on their way back to Doyle by now. It made no sense for them to stick around after their job was done.

I smelled a familiar stench and stopped cold. I narrowed my eyes at the shadows near the outer fence. “What’s that?”

Clutch took slow steps closer while I held my rifle at the ready.

I lingered until he got down on a knee and I came closer.

I kicked at the two zeds—one male, one female—tied together. They watched us, their mouths taped shut and their hands cut off. Each zed was cut wide open, with entrails oozing out. The stench was horrible, though they’d been open for long enough for some of the horrendous odor to dissipate. “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

“No fucking clue.” Clutch stood, raised his rifle, and finished the two zeds.

These zeds were connected to Dogs, somehow. “Why would someone order a zed delivery here?” I thought aloud. “And why the hell would someone cut them open?”

Having zeds inside the Camp was dangerous enough, especially if they got free and leaked their infectious goo all over the place.

I took a step back. “Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Dogs aren’t done yet. They’re going to spread the infection.”

Clutch and I looked at each other.

We left the stinking corpses and took off running back to the truck.

A blast detonated in the distance, and smoke rose from the direction of HQ.

My heart pounded. “No!”

We raced back to find soot-covered people pouring out of the building. Many were injured and wet with blood. Clutch slammed on the brakes just as Griz and several troops ran toward the building. I jumped out and yanked Griz back. “Anyone who got hit with shrapnel is infected!”

Griz’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

I pointed at the building. “They used zed-soaked grenades!”

His eyes widened. “Are you sure? You’ve got to be fucking sure about this.”

Clutch came up. “Yeah, Griz. They’re using dirty bombs.”

The soldier muttered out a string of curses before raising his handheld radio. “This is Griz. Anyone injured by the grenade blast is infected. You are ordered to eliminate anyone injured. Repeat. Kill anyone injured. Over.”

Chatter erupted on the radio.

Repeat last.

Say again.

You’re joking, right?

Griz sighed. “You heard me right! I’m not fucking with you! The Dogs used dirty bombs, goddammit. Kill the injured!”

“God help us all,” Griz said and opened fire on survivors.

Screams erupted. People went berserk, running wildly away from us, seeking shelter.

I raised my rifle. My hands shook. My aim needed to be right. I took a deep breath and sought out the most injured. They would turn first.

I fired.

A woman holding her bloody stomach fell. From my side, Clutch fired into the crowd. The sounds of more gunfire from both sides filled the air.

I took down a man with a head wound. Then a kid getting trampled in the chaos that had overtaken the Camp.

As if spooked by something, people switched directions and starting running toward us.

A zed with a massive chest wound sunk its teeth into the neck of a screaming man. I fired off two shots back to back, taking both down.

Clutch grabbed me. “Run!”

We sprinted toward the truck. The stampede was nearly upon us. Clutch grabbed my waist and threw me onto the bed. I grabbed his shirt to pull him up, but he was yanked from my grasp.

“Clutch!” I screamed, but I couldn’t find him anywhere in the mass of running people.

People reached for me but were smashed against the truck by the sheer force of numbers. The four-by-four wobbled from side to side. A woman shrieked like a yippy dog as she was squeezed between the truck and people until she drowned under the stampede.

“
Godammit! Clutch!”

In a panic, I continued firing as I crept to the edge, searching for him on the ground. A familiar man shoved a kid down on his way past.

“Sean,”
I growled out. He looked up right when I shot him. Weasel was only a few feet behind Sean, and I killed him with my last round.

The truck was rocking so much that I dropped the clip while reloading.

The stampede thinned out as the people spread out. Bringing up the rear were mostly zeds. When they first turned, zeds were nearly as fast as humans, and they were taking down people left and right, like they were at a wine tasting party.

I went through three more clips before I pulled out the machete. I jumped off the back of the truck and stumbled over bodies on the ground. I hacked at zeds and slashed anyone still living who bore shrapnel wounds. I shoved bodies aside.

“Clutch!” I screamed until my voice gave out. I kept going, pushing over bodies, searching, until my gaze fell on camo fatigues.

I dropped to my knees and pulled the lifeless man onto my lap and started sobbing.

I’d found Clutch.

The Ninth Circle of Hell

Three days later

Forty-two.

That’s how many Camp Fox survivors made it to the park. After surviving the zed outbreak, only one out of every seventeen civilians survived the Dogs’ attack. Of that number, over half the survivors were troops, as they’d been spread across the base hunting the Dogs when the attack started.

Forty-two was barely enough to protect the park from zeds, let alone protect it against the risk of Dogs. Same story, different day.

I snuggled against Clutch and held his hand, just like I had every day since the attack. On the first day, his fingers had trembled, but the doctor said not to think anything of it, that the spasms were due to the swelling on his brain. Even though Clutch no longer showed any response, I still held hope.

Jase clung to hope, too. He slept alone in a beanbag chair on the other side of Clutch’s bed every night. He no longer had his faithful sidekick. The timid coyote had sacrificed herself to save her master when a zed tackled Jase. It seemed like he’d lost enough that he no longer had much to say.

He blamed himself for her death. But no more than I blamed myself for Clutch’s situation.

Griz, Tack,
Smitty, Eddy, even Tyler had come through without injuries. A selfish, dark shadow deep inside me was angry that they were okay while Clutch lay lifeless on the bed. It had all seemed so unfair. But as soon as the guys stopped by to offer respect, I’d been ashamed of my thoughts. Those men were heroes as much as Clutch. They’d just gotten lucky this time.

Clutch had been crushed under the stampede. His back was broken, along with three ribs, both legs, and his left wrist. He also had a dislocated shoulder and a fractured skull. If—
when
— he woke, the doc said he could have permanent brain damage. And he’d be paralyzed from the waist down.

Still, I prayed for him to wake.

I
needed
him to wake.

On the nightstand next to his bed—against doctor’s orders—sat a fully loaded Glock and the can of chewing tobacco I’d given him. The doctor—a general practitioner—figured that if Clutch woke up, he’d be suicidal, and would put a bullet through his brain. I disagreed.

The Clutch I knew would never pull the trigger.

I only hoped that when Clutch woke, he’d still be the man I knew.

In the background, Hawkeye’s latest transmission droned on over the beeps of Clutch’s life support system.

“…The time is coming soon when we can all relocate to a zed-free zone. At the right time, I will give you all a date and time to meet, and we will head out together. A militia has volunteered to protect us on our journey. There is strength in numbers, my friends. Until tomorrow, this is Hawkeye broadcasting on AM 1340. Be safe and know that you’re not alone.”

Griz burst through the door and I nearly fell out of bed.

I got to my feet, gently, so as not to disturb Clutch’s broken body. “What’s wrong?”

“You better come quick.”

I placed a kiss to Clutch’s forehead and ran with Griz to his Jeep. “Where are we going?”

“Jase’s cabin.”

I sucked in a breath.
No!

Fear stung my nerves. He’d been so quiet lately. He’d probably been planning on taking his own life since the attack, and I’d been so obsessed with Clutch that I ignored the signs.

I held on tightly as Griz squealed tires around winding roads through the dense morning fog. Three other vehicles were already parked at the cabin when we got there. I ran inside.

Expecting to find Jase’s lifeless body, I was surprised to find Jase alive and well, and I let out a breath that I felt like I’d been holding since Griz grabbed me.

Then I noticed Jase had a rifle leveled at his best friend. Eddy kneeled on the floor, whimpering, with his wrists restrained behind his back. Tyler stood nearby, his arms folded over his chest.

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Eddy couldn’t take the guilt eating away at him anymore,” Jase said with a cutting edge to his voice. “He’d figured his mom was exempt from getting chewed up by zeds. He figured wrong.”

“None of that was supposed to happen. I swear it!” Eddy pleaded. “No one except Colonel Lendt was supposed to get hurt.”

My jaw dropped. Eddy was the traitor? Of all people, a kid betrayed us?

Eddy sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was trying to help everyone. I screwed up.”

“What you did is
not
called screwing up. It’s called treason,” Tyler said coolly. “Your actions brought about the deaths of over three hundred innocent people, including your own mother.”

Eddy lowered his head and sniffled, his body quivering.

“You can start making amends by giving us Doyle’s location,” Tyler said.

Eddy looked up, confused. He shook his head. “I had nothing to do with Doyle. Hawkeye arranged everything, even getting the two Dogs into Camp Fox.”

Tyler frowned. “The AM jockey?”

The blood drained from my head as I finally placed Hawkeye’s voice.

Eddy nodded. “Hawkeye had proof of zed-free zones that welcomed survivors. We could go there and be safe. But he’d said that Lendt didn’t tell us about the zones because he didn’t want to lose his power and control over everything and everyone at Camp Fox.”

“And Hawkeye showed you this proof?”

“Hawkeye told me.”

Tyler slowly shook his head. “Son, you were played for a fool. Hawkeye’s the one interested in power and control. Not Lendt.”

Eddy sniffled before looking across the faces in the room. His gaze stopped at one and morphed into a glare. “It’s your fault. Mom would still be alive if it wasn’t for you.”

The room temp dropped twenty degrees when every pair of eyes turned to
Smitty.

Smitty’s
gaze darted to Tyler. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Eddy’s glare narrowed. “You said everything would be all right. That we were helping everyone.”

Smitty fidgeted. “Stupid kid thinks to throw a scapegoat out to save his own ass. Don’t try to pull me into this, Eddy. This is all on you.”

Tyler took a step forward and shook his head. “You’ve always been a lousy poker player,
Smitty.” He nodded to Tack and Griz who I noticed both already had a pistol aimed at their fellow soldier. “Arrest him. Put him with Eddy.”

Surprisingly,
Smitty didn’t rabbit. He stood, jaw clenched, while Tack disarmed and restrained him and Griz held the weapon level on him.

“I don’t get it. Why, Corporal?” Tyler asked.

Smitty snorted. “When I joined up, I vowed to defend this country against all threats, domestic and foreign.”

I rolled my eyes. How cliché. “And how does killing innocents fall under that?”

“None of that was supposed to happen. Hawkeye had said only the leadership had to go, so then everyone could relocate to the zed-free zone. The Dogs must’ve disobeyed orders. Maybe Doyle got wind of their plans and turned them.”

“Hawkeye is Doyle, you idiot,” I said and then walked out.