by M. D. Massey
“Which rest stop is this?” Clutch asked.
“It’s about twenty miles north of Chow Town, just south of the ethanol plant.”
“I know the place,” Clutch said.
“I’m leading the mission, and I’m taking my entire squad with me. That makes ten of us. With you, it’d be eleven.”
Silence boomed, and I noticed Clutch watching Jase. “If I do this, both the kid and Cash are on my team.”
Tyler nodded. “I was planning on that.” He turned to me. “Since you’re not ex-mil, I couldn’t make you come along, but your assistance is appreciated.”
I gave a tight nod.
Tyler faced Clutch and continued. “Griz has Alpha team. You’ll take Bravo team. That brings our total to twelve troops for the mission. It should be an easy in-and-out.”
Clutch shot me a strained glance before turning back to Tyler. “Hoorah.”
Tyler smiled. “We head out at zero-three. I’ll make sure you both have clearance into Camp Fox. We meet inside the front gate. Got it?”
“Cash and I need weapons and gear,” Clutch added.
“Roger that,” Tyler said. “Those are two things we still have in good supply. Ammunition is another story.”
“How low are you?” Clutch asked.
“If we’re careful, we might have just enough to take Doyle down. But we’re going to have to get creative with the zeds.”
Clutch nodded and headed back to the truck. I shot Jase a quick smile before following.
We drove away, and neither Clutch nor I spoke until after we passed by the farms we’d looted a few days earlier. “I guess it’s official. We’re with Camp Fox,” I said.
Clutch took in a deep breath. “Yeah, guess so.”
My eyes widened. “Wait. Turn around.”
He hit the brakes and did a one-eighty. He frowned. “What’d you see?”
I hurriedly pointed to a house with a couple rustic tin buildings. “Turn in here.”
He pulled into the drive. “Is that—?”
“Yeah.”
He stopped the truck next to the old tree, with dozens of red apples dangling from it. I shot him a wide grin before we both rushed out to the tree. The apples were high, and I had to jump to reach one. When I bit into it, tart juices splattered, and I groaned. “Mm, so good.”
Clutch didn’t reply. He was too busy chewing on his own apple.
It had been so long since we had fresh fruit. These tart apples were meant for pies, but they tasted like heaven. Clutch finished his before I finished mine and grabbed another apple. I tossed my core, and he held the apple out to me. I grinned, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into a long, sugary kiss. Bliss.
I pulled away to find Clutch wearing one his rare smiles.
My smile fell at the same time the blood in my veins froze. “Watch out!”
He twisted around just as the zed tackled him.
I reached for my shotgun and realized I’d left it in the truck.
I pulled out my knife and ran at the zed snapping its teeth at Clutch, who was holding it back. I grabbed its legs and yanked it to the side, got to my knees and shoved the knife through its cheekbone. Clutch was next to me, stabbing it through its eye. Jumping to my feet I turned around to find at least a half dozen more heading our way, all looking less than friendly and more than hungry.
“We’ve got trouble,” I murmured.
“Truck” was all Clutch said, and we both sprinted back to the still-running vehicle.
As Clutch tore out of there, I watched the zeds through the back window. They stood under the apple tree, watching us, as though daring us to come back.
I turned back around and sighed. For more apples, I just might.
22
“You’ll stay at my side and do everything I say,” Clutch said on our way to Camp Fox. “This situation could go FUBAR in a flash. I don’t like you this close to the action, but I’d rather have you with me than alone at the park.”
I yawned, then saluted. “Yes, Sergeant Bad Ass, sir.”
He muttered something under his breath. I grinned and went back to scanning the dark landscape.
It took us two hours driving without headlights and around the ever-growing numbers of zeds to get to Camp Fox. By then, my nerves had amped up a million levels. I’d fought against zeds plenty. This was my first time playing the aggressor against other people, and I felt sorely unprepared.
At the Camp’s front gate, we found a friendly reception and load of gear and weapons waiting for us. Clutch helped me gear up before fastening on his own armor. As I checked out my new sniper rifle, Tyler drove up with a Humvee full of troops with faces painted black.
They stepped outside and we all formed a circle around Tyler.
He looked over everyone, and then threw me a plastic container. I unscrewed the lid to find what I guessed was dark face paint. Clutch dipped two fingers in and started wiping it across his face, and I did the same.
“Sarge, you’ve got Tack, Southpaw, Cash, Eddy, and Jase,” Tyler said. “Everyone else is with Griz and me. Here’s the plan.”
Two hours later, Bravo team lay flat on the grassy hill behind the rest stop, waiting for Tyler’s signal. To my right, Mutt, an honorary member of Bravo, was sprawled out next to Jase, seemingly unconcerned that shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Eddy was on Jase’s other side, one of his legs shaking. To my left, with Clutch between us, was Southpaw, the other sniper in Bravo. Tack was silent and unmoving next to Southpaw, and I couldn’t tell if he was even awake.
Clutch looked like he was analyzing the situation, and I turned my attention back to my target. There were two guards on the backside of the rest stop, one on each corner. Southpaw and I each had our assigned target in our sights for the past ten minutes. Just waiting for the signal.
We each had a role in the straight-forward mission: Go at them from both sides. Take down the guards. Smoke out any hiding in the rest stop and neutralize. Grab the fuel trucks and reclaim any weapons and ammunition.
Clutch tensed, and I suspected he was getting the call from Tyler. Camp Fox had been ill-equipped for war, leaving only the three mission leaders with headsets.
“Bravo. Received.” Clutch turned to Southpaw and then to me. “Green light.” He paused for a three-count while we each readied to fire. “Green light, go.”
I inhaled. As I exhaled, I pulled the trigger. My target fell to the ground, unmoving. My shot was echoed by Southpaw’s rifle, and his target collapsed.
“Nice.” Clutch held up two fingers and motioned back and forth.
Show time.
Clutch took the lead, with Tack, Jase, and Eddy lined up one by one in trail. Southpaw and I stayed behind to take out Dogs before they posed a risk to our guys, though I suspected Clutch’s motive was to keep me out of danger, leaving Southpaw behind to cover me.
The rest stop, right off the interstate, was a smart location for moving large trucks. Instead of fences, every forty feet or so, there was a zed, buried up to its knees and chained to the ground. Interesting defense.
Lights erupted from an amped-up pickup truck and its horn blared.
“Shit!” I muttered.
“Guess the surprise is up,” Southpaw said from my left, sounding none too happy.
Alpha team reached the rest stop as soon as the first Dog emerged. Clutch took him out with a clean chest shot.
Clutch slammed against the building, nearly dropping his gun. It was then I noticed the Dog he’d shot wasn’t a man at all but a young woman. As Clutch leaned against the building, I wanted to shout, she’s a Dog, goddammit! Instead, I fired off a shot at the next Dog coming through the door.
The shot snapped Clutch out of his stupor. He pulled up his rifle, shot a glance my way, and headed back into the fray. Jase fired off several shots, and I heard him yell. Mutt took off running and jumped onto an injured Dog trying to flee. The coyote tore at his throat and clawed at his skin until the Dog’s screams found silence.
> Clutch pressed his hand to his ear. He made a hand motion. Eddy and Jase ran toward one of the fuel trucks, with Mutt on their heels. Four of Alpha team met them at the trucks, and a pair climbed into each of the three trucks.
Heavy engines roared to life, and the lights on the fuel tankers came on one by one. As they started rolling, Southpaw and I continued to lay down fire whenever we saw a Dog.
Clutch held up a hand and shouted, “Pull back. Company’s coming!”
When Clutch and Tack reached our position, Southpaw and I sprinted with them into the darkness. Bullets zinged past us and I wanted to dive for cover but kept running.
Southpaw stumbled, and I stopped to help him. He was trying to pull himself back up while holding his side.
“South’s down!” I yelled, bending down to pull him up. Clutch moved me out of the way and he and Tack grabbed the fallen soldier.
I fired off cover fire as the guys ran past me.
“Haul ass, Cash!” Clutch yelled.
I fired off three more shots and reached the guys as they were loading Southpaw into the back of the Humvee. We climbed inside, and Clutch took the driver’s seat. He was cussing at Tyler, but I couldn’t make out the jargon.
But I did notice the onslaught of headlights in the distance, and they were coming right at us.
23
Clutch sped dangerously fast without headlights. I had no idea how he managed to keep the Humvee on the road. He pressed two fingers against his headset. “We have one man down.”
A pause.
“Affirm. Bravo team is still a go. Repeat, Bravo is still a go.”
A pause.
“Wilco. Bravo, over and out.” Clutch grimaced and turned on the headlights.
My eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
Clutch clenched his jaw. “Alpha is rendezvousing with the tankers to provide firepower support to the Camp. We’re to lead as many Dogs as we can away from the convoy.”
I swallowed, found it hard to breathe, and immediately started reloading my rifle.
He glanced at me and then took a quick look in back where Tack was busy tending to Southpaw. “How’s he doing?”
Tack didn’t answer.
“Tack, report.”
The soldier looked up slowly. “It was clean, through and through, no organs hit. But…I think he’s gone.”
Clutch hit the wheel. “Fuck!”
“I don’t get it,” Tack added on though in a daze. “It wasn’t that bad of hit. He should be conscious and talking to us right now.”
I looked around and noticed lights—a lot of them—closing in. “Do you know this area?” I asked.
“Not good enough.” Clutch cranked a hard left, sending me against the door, and he barreled down the on-ramp and onto the interstate. “Let’s hope for no roadblocks.”
Something chinked the metal, sounding like a rock chip, except we were on pavement.
“Tack, take the .30,” Clutch ordered. “Cash, feed him ammo.”
I started crawling into the back.
“Fuck!” Tack yelled and jumped back.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s Southpaw. He’s turning!”
“How’s that possible?” I fumbled with my rifle.
Southpaw plowed into the much smaller Tack, but I was close enough I barely had to aim. I fired an ear-ringing shot, and Southpaw collapsed on top of Tack.
Tack sat up and shoved off his comrade.
I kept my rifle leveled. “Are you bit?”
He kicked away Southpaw’s body. “No.”
“What the hell was that?” Clutch asked.
“No idea,” I said, making my way to Tack. We hadn’t been close to any of the zeds in the area. So how in the world had Southpaw gotten infected? More pings against the metal reminded me that I didn’t have the luxury to think right now.
Tack fired rounds at the headlights behind us. The first vehicle swerved but then straightened out, but at least we now had more space between us and them. Another pair of lights came up alongside the first, and flashes of gunfire from both trucks winked back at us.
“Can’t you go faster?” I yelled toward Clutch.
“Humvee,” he replied as if that explained everything.
I fed more ammo to Tack.
Clutch jerked the Humvee onto an exit ramp, knocking me across the floor and onto Southpaw’s body. As I pulled myself back up, I saw the sign that read Fox Hills 3 miles, and by the look on Tack’s face, he’d seen it, too, though he went back to firing.
“You’re taking us to Chow Town?” I asked.
“We can’t outrun the Dogs, and they’d be crazy to follow us into town.”
We’d be crazy to go into town, I wanted to say. Instead, I warned, “It’s almost dawn.”
Clutch kept on driving. “I plan on only making a quick drive-through.”
As Clutch suspected, the Dogs backed off when we passed the sign that read Welcome to Fox Hills, Midwest’s hidden gem, pop. 5,613. Clutch drove the Humvee off the shoulder and through the ditch, around the blocked road, and into the Wal-Mart’s parking lot. Already, at least a dozen dark shadows lumbered toward us.
The truck behind us stopped but kept its machine gun leveled at us. The other trucks peeled out and headed in different directions. “Fuck!” Clutch stepped on the gas. “The shits are trying to block us in town.”
Clutch turned left on the first street, running over a zed wearing a gaudy shirt, its sequins glittering in our headlights. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered as he sped faster and faster.
When we reached the next road leading out of town, on the other side of the roadblock was one of the Dogs’ trucks. They fired off several shots, and Clutch slammed on the brakes. He made a U-turn and headed for the next street. The gunfire had drawn zeds out from the darkness. Clutch dodged some and hit more on his way to one of the few roads leading out of town. Chow Town wasn’t a large town. With a river running along two sides and all bridges blocked or destroyed during the outbreak, there weren’t many roads leading out of town.
Clutch slowed, and I saw the Dogs on the other side of the roadblock.
The wheel creaked under Clutch’s grip. “Shit.”
“If we can’t get out of town, we need to find a place to lie low until the Dogs clear out,” I said, fear tightening my muscles as I remembered how well that worked the last time I was here. I looked from Tack to Clutch. “Any ideas?”
“My apartment is about three miles from here,” Tack said.
I frowned. “Apartments sound too dangerous.”
“When that sun comes up, anywhere is going to be too dangerous,” Clutch said.
“How about the pharmacy we cleared out? It’s not far,” I said.
Clutch shook his head. “The glass windows will make it hard to hide.”
“My girlfriend’s house is across the street from First Baptist. She went to Des Moines with her parents shopping when…you know, so the house should be clear,” Tack said.
Clutch sighed. “Let’s give it a shot.”
Tack gave directions, and Clutch weaved around cars and cut through yards. A lump formed in my gut when I saw the zeds building behind us.
As soon as we hit a side street, Clutch stepped on the gas to put some distance between us and them. “We’re going to have to move fast. Run to the back door. Don’t be noticed. If you are, take care of any that home in on us. Tack, you make sure you get us inside fast. Then we’re going into silence so no zeds get a bead on us. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said.
“Tack, grab any extra ammo off Southpaw. I have a feeling we’re going to need every round,” Clutch said before relaying our next coordinates to Tyler.
A moment later, Tack pointed. “There. That two-story brick one. That’s the place.”
“Let’s do this.” Clutch cut the engine of the Humvee while it was still rolling into the driveway, and I jumped out.
It was dark enough that the herd of z
eds about a block away was only an ominous fog of shapes. Sweeping trees cast ominous dark shadows over the yard, hiding God only knows what. Clutch scanned the backyard alongside me.
Tack checked the back door. When it didn’t open, he lifted a flower pot and grabbed a key. He opened the door and disappeared inside.
I went to follow but stopped cold. I pulled out my knife, walked down the steps, and stood on the patio. A zed emerged from the shadows. It groaned, and I lunged forward and stabbed it through the top of its head. I looked around for more. Clutch tugged my arm and motioned to the door.
I followed him inside. He locked the door, and I found us in a kitchen. Aside from the earliest glimmer of dawn coming through the windows, it was pitch black inside. I moved slowly to not make any noise and closed the blinds on the kitchen window. I turned, leaned on the sink, and inhaled.
Death.
I smelled death.
I stepped cautiously into the living room, where Tack was closing the curtains. The smell was stronger here. He noticed me, held up a hand, and whispered, “It’s Daisy.”
“Daisy?” I mouthed back.
“Golden Retriever.”
Relief replaced my tension. Now all we had to do was wait it out.
Something thumped against the window.
Tack and I both stiffened. Clutch walked silently into the room. Thump.
I flattened against the wall and peered out of the crack at the end of the curtain. Several zeds grabbed at the Humvee. Even more zeds stood on the other side of the window, sniffing at the air.
Thump, thump.
I stepped back, mouth opened. Impossible. They couldn’t possibly find us through brick and glass. Clutch exchanged places with me and he looked outside. Tack looked outside from the other edge of the curtain.
Both looked as surprised as I felt.
The pounding on the glass grew, and more zeds joined in.
“If I can get to the Humvee, I can unleash the .30 on them,” Tack whispered.
“There’s too many,” Clutch said in a low voice. “When that glass breaks, we’re going to have to make a run for it.”
