“Figures,” Chad frowned. He slung his rifle across his back and knelt down to pick up the beast. Chad may have been thin, but he had what I liked to call ‘skinny man strength’. He heaved the pig up over his shoulder.
“Well, we got lucky today. Early kill,” I said.
We left Camp Holly only two hours earlier. The boat ride alone took almost an hour. Some hunting trips went all day without anything to show for it. It couldn’t have been past ten o’clock in the morning that day.
“Yep,” Jenna said as she followed Chad to the boat. “Means more time to teach you two how to cut that bad boy up.”
I stood up and noticed Boomer peering off into the brush.
“What is it?” I whispered to him. The hair on his neck slowly rose, and he released a light grumble from his throat.
I grabbed a small pair of binoculars I had on my web belt and scanned the marsh in the direction he was facing.
At first, I saw nothing. Soon, though, a pair of figures stepped out from a group of trees. They were dogs. They had either picked up our scent or the scent of the blood from the slain boar.
“Calm down, buddy,” I told Boomer as the rumbling in his chest grew louder. He was aggressively hopping forward, as if to ward off the other canines.
More dogs followed the pair out of the woods. The lead was a very large Rottweiler. His black fur was missing patches and he had various mud and dirt stains on his coat. Wild dogs always looked wild and all of these dogs fit that category.
He and the others would sniff the ground and look in our direction. I think Boomer made them hesitate, though, because they didn’t immediately charge at us.
I lowered the goggles and gauged our distance. They were at least a football field away. Running would only cause them to react, so I was sure to only make slow, deliberate motions.
“Come on, boy,” I grabbed Boomer by his harness. Kolin helped me fashion one out of leather from deer hide. It had a handle, which had come in handy more than once. I gently pulled him back. He didn’t obey, though, and pulled away from me. That was not like him.
“Boomer, come on!” I hissed.
The group of dogs had grown to over ten. All were large breed canines, ranging from mutts to the giant Rottweiler.
Boomer gave a bark to ward them off, but all they did was perk up and glare at us.
I was armed with an AR-15. I had replaced the one that was damaged in the comic store with the other one I had retrieved from my best friend’s locker in the first days of The Awakening. I had kept the red dot site and other attachments though, and found this rifle had a better feel than the one I had used for the first month of the apocalypse.
“Christian!” Jenna shouted playfully. “Hurry up!”
Her shout did it. The pack of dogs bolted toward us at amazing speed. Boomer started to hunch down, preparing to strike at them when they closed the distance. I wasn’t having it though, and yanked on his harness as hard as I could.
“Boomer, COME!” I screamed as I pulled him my way.
“Christian, hurry your ass up!” Chad yelled. “I don’t want Jenna trying to take advantage of me.” I heard Jenna retort, but was too focused on the problem in front of me to make out what she said. They were clueless to what was happening.
Boomer finally obeyed and turned toward the boat. We both sprinted as fast as we could toward the shoreline.
Constant runs to the city and manual labor back at Camp Holly put me in better condition than when I served in the Military. But I knew I wasn’t fast enough to make it to our transportation before the lead dogs made it to me.
The dog pack charged toward us. There was a small hill before the shore, and I darted up it at full speed.
“Push off!” I ordered hoarsely as I crossed over the crest of the hill. At the bottom, I saw that they were already about a foot away from the shore. Chad was sitting with an oar in the mud, preparing to push away when we were all loaded up.
“Dogs!” I screamed at them. “Dogs behind me!”
“What?” Jenna called back, still oblivious to the danger.
“Wild dogs!” I yelled back. Her eyes opened wide, not because of what I said, but the creature panting behind me. Boomer was almost to the shore, so that only meant one thing.
I looked over my shoulder. At first I was relieved to see it wasn’t the hulking, black Rottweiler, until I realized it was a very hungry grey pit bull. Three more blurs of motion were behind it, but only the pit received my full attention.
It was seconds away from leaping on me when a loud bang erupted from the shoreline.
I looked back at the boat and saw Jenna curse as she took aim with her 308 hunting rifle again and fired. Another loud bang, followed by a yelp told me Jenna hit her mark this time. She didn’t shoot at the pit bull for fear of striking me on accident.
I could hear the dog’s paws trampling through the grass and knew it had me. I was still thirty feet from the shore.
I took a chance and dodged to the left, thinking an attack was imminent. Luck was on my side as the pit bull lunged toward my leg and missed it by an inch. It shot past me about five feet before it could slow down enough to turn around. Within a split second, the wild dog was charging at me again. My speed had slowed and there was no way I was going to avoid another attack.
I brought my rifle up just as the pit dove at my knee.
The ferocious wail of Boomer was like a jet screaming in my ear as the German shepherd rallied to my defense.
Boomer tackled the pit in midair. The collision caused the wild dog to squeal in shock and pain as Boomer brought him to the ground.
More gunshots rang out, this time from both Chad and Jenna. None were toward me and the two dogs scrambling to their feet.
Boomer was slower to get up than the agile pit bull, and the grey beast mashed his teeth on the shepherd’s back.
Boomer wailed, but was not subdued. The German shepherd was well over a hundred pounds now and the pit bull couldn’t have been more than sixty. The sixty pounds was all muscle, of course, but was still no match for Boomer.
Boomer twisted and rolled. The urban legend that pits could permanently lock their jaws was evidently wrong. Boomer tossed the lighter pit to the side and hunched down, ready to leap on the other dog as it rolled over to its feet.
I did not give either of them time to attack, though. My rifle was up, safety off, and finger at the ready before either one could move toward the other.
My shot hit the pit bull between the eyes and its head jerked to the right as a small chunk of flesh flew back twenty feet behind it.
I looked up, not wasting any more time on the dead dog. I knew I had killed it.
I aimed at the hill we had just run down. There were two more dogs lying on the ground. One of them was squirming, not quite dead. I caught a glimpse of the large Rottweiler before it ran back over the crest of the hill and out of sight.
Boomer wasn’t done. He started to run toward the hill.
“Boomer, no!” I shouted at him.
He stopped and glared back at me, hesitant to obey. After a moment, though, he ducked his head in submission and returned to my side. I noticed blood had matted the fur of his back where the pit bull had latched onto him.
“Let’s go!” Chad called.
“Come on,” I told Boomer, and nudged him toward the boat. He obediently followed alongside me as we jogged to the shore.
When we climbed into the small, sixteen foot boat, I could hear whimpering from the wounded dog on the hill.
“Jenna… can you take care of that?” My breath was short, still pumped up from the adrenaline.
“Yeah, darlin’. You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Just… don’t let the dog suffer.” I slumped down at the rear of the boat.
“Fuck that, man, let that thing die a slow and—”
“Shut up, Chad,” Jenna said as she took aim.
I looked over and saw the dog scrambling to get up. I wasn’t sure what the breed
was, or if it was just a mutt, but the large dog’s shoulder was bleeding profusely. The brown and white shaggy fur had been changed to a crimson color around the wound.
BANG!
Jenna’s bullet slammed into the canine’s chest. It flopped backward, landing motionless on the ground.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jenna breathed. I grabbed an oar and helped Chad push off from the shore.
“Jenna, do you mind taking the oar for a minute while I check out Boomer?” I asked when we made it to the middle of the river.
“Sure thing,” she said and switched spots with me.
Boomer was still panting heavily, staring at the river bank. I moved his fur and saw multiple puncture marks where the pit bull had latched onto him. I grabbed a small towel and dumped some of my canteen water over it.
“That was pretty intense,” Chad remarked as I wiped the blood from Boomer’s fur. “Is he okay?”
“I think so,” I answered. Boomer didn’t even flinch as I cleaned the wound.
Chad reached into his pack and pulled out a cell phone. Occasionally, he would record events or conversations. He thought he was making a documentary, something that would tell the tale of our survival to future generations.
“How many were there?” Chad asked, pointing the lens at me.
“At least a dozen. I’m going to talk to Fish about beefing up our hunting teams. If the packs of wild dogs are growing, three- and four-man teams are going to get hurt.” I pushed his arm away. “Come on man, that’s annoying.”
Chad shrugged and put the camera away. “I should have had it out when I shot the pig.”
Jenna laughed. “Can’t shoot your gun and the camera at the same time, dip shit.”
I ignored them as I finished cleaning Boomer’s coat and scratched his head.
“Thanks buddy,” I whispered in his ear. He turned and licked my face and neck, covering me in slobber.
“You know, if you would get the balls to ask Jenna out, you wouldn’t have to resort to kissing your dog,” Chad said, chuckling.
I flushed in embarrassment. I admit I had a little thing for Jenna. However, the stress of our new living conditions and the fact that I didn’t know if I was carrying the virus stopped any attempt at forming a romantic relationship with anyone, especially with the cute and wild southern girl.
“Leave him alone, Chad,” Jenna said seriously. “Just because no one wants to be with your felon ass, doesn’t mean you have to embarrass him.”
“Take it easy, Jenna. I’m fine. He’s just kidding around,” I said hurriedly as Chad’s face flushed. Chad had grown on me in the past few weeks. He and I were almost constantly together when we made runs into the city. Socially, Chad was just awkward. Going to prison for ten years at the young age of eighteen will do that to you.
“So, Boomer is okay then?” Jenna asked after a moment of uneasy silence.
“Yeah. Just a couple bite marks,” I replied, stroking the canine’s lower back.
“Good, then you can get your lazy ass over here and paddle,” she grinned.
I laughed. “All right. Just keep the boat steady.” I moved to the side where Jenna was sitting and took the oar. She wobbled uneasily to the rear of the boat and sat down next to Boomer.
“Man, I hope it’s dead weather again tomorrow,” Chad sighed as he rowed. Dead weather was what we called days like that day. Cloudy and no rain. That meant the zombies would most likely be out in full force, scavenging for anything living.
“I thought all you Runners liked going into the city,” Jenna teased. “You know, a chance to prove your manhood and all that.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t mind going on runs,” Chad responded.
“You like it?” Jenna questioned. “I’ve gone twice since we rescued those people from the post office. Dread it every time.”
“It’s not going into the city he hates,” I joined in. “It’s Cecil. Man has it out for him.” Cecil, as the Platoon Leader of the Runners, went into the city on just about every occasion. The former police detective would sometimes treat Chad as if he were still in prison.
Chad looked over at me. “He’s an asshole, pure and simple.” He shook his head, “Man, I did my time. Shit, I was out of prison before all this crap happened. I swear, last week, the man tried to kill me. Said he had my back and sent me into a house with three dead-heads. The pig never even crossed the doorway, just watched me almost get my ass killed.”
“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad,” I argued.
“You weren’t there, man. I’m telling you, the pig wants me dead.”
After Cecil became comfortable with our group and Campbell made him the Runner Platoon Leader, he did have somewhat of a personality change. He grew harsher, especially on Chad. With me, though, he seemed nice, almost as if he was sucking up. I had decided it was because of my relationship with Fish.
“Don’t worry, Chad, I have your back,” I said grinning.
Chad just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but who has yours?”
“You do,” I laughed.
“Damn straight, buddy.” Chad patted my shoulder.
“Do you two need a minute alone?” Jenna giggled.
Our trip didn’t last much longer. We paddled the small boat toward the long chain-link fence that protected Camp Holly’s riverside perimeter. The fence connected to the cinderblock walls. Near the north side of the fence was a gate which allowed our various water craft out of the enclosed area.
The two guards posted at the river entrance greeted us and opened the gate. One of them was Sam.
Sam had a thing with shirts. He never wore them unless he was going on a run. It might have been because he sweat profusely. His dark black skin was always glistening as if he had just stepped out of the rain.
The other was a ‘Greenie’. I hadn’t learned all the newcomers names yet, and would refer to them as that until I got to know them better.
We had more than just boats with oars. Out in the swamps, we were not afraid to use boat motors. They had never attracted a zombie and if scabs had been alerted, they had never shown themselves. However, Jenna was not a fan of the using the noisy engines when she was going hunting. I had argued that we could still have used a motor for the trip back, but after a quick insult to my manhood, I gave up on the subject.
We parked the boat near a group of jet skis and unloaded our gear and the prize swine.
“Show me,” Sam ordered as he walked up to the small dock on the bank of the river.
We stripped down to our underwear. It was common practice whenever someone left the confines of Camp Holly that we showed proof we had not been bitten when we returned.
Luckily, my wounds had healed up and were easily passed off as old scars. I’m sure if anyone examined it long enough, they would make out the ring of scars where I had been bitten months earlier.
“Alright,” Sam said after his inspection, “You’re good to go. Save me a leg from that pig, Jenna.” Sam smiled and walked back to the gate.
“You coming with us?” Chad asked me as he and Jenna headed toward the slaughter tent.
“Naw, I’m going to go see Fish. I had enough fun last week cleaning that alligator.”
“Alright. See you at dinner, Christian.” He and Jenna walked off through the camp.
The camp itself was bustling with activity. We were the only group out, so everyone else was busy working on their various tasks and duties.
Boomer and I walked past the main hall where the children were all in class. The east side of the building was open with just a screen protecting it from the elements. Cheryl, the elderly daycare worker, was teaching arithmetic.
Campbell wanted to keep the children busy.
Cheryl, Jada, and a few Greenies were their babysitters. Besides learning English and math, the children were taught basic survival skills. Those classes were usually given by guest speakers like DJ or Kolin or someone with those particular skills.
Fish also made sure t
hat the kids did their part. There was some argument as to the morals of putting the kids to work, which Fish won of course. There was no such thing as a Child Labor Law now. The kids were tasked to make simple things like Poppers.
Poppers actually didn’t ‘pop’, but were small doodads that made noise for a brief period of time. Mostly made up of junk, each one looked different. But they did what they needed to do in a tight spot, drawing the zombies to them and allowing whoever used it to get to where they needed to go safely.
I continued into the main part of the compound. In the center was a large tower we had constructed the second week we were there. There were no less than two guards in it at a time. From there, you could see the whole camp and as far as the horizon outside.
“Christian!” I heard a familiar, annoying voice call out.
Boomer heard it too, spun around and charged at Karina.
“Hey Karina,” I sighed.
“Did you catch anything?” She asked as Boomer stood on his hind legs, forearms over her shoulders and tongue wiping around the teenagers face. “Yuck! Boomer down!” she commanded.
After a moment, the canine obeyed.
“Well?” she asked again.
“Yeah, Chad shot a pig.”
“Awesome. Why won’t they let me go? I’ve been asking to go hunting, but Kat says I have my own job to worry about. Everyone else—”
“Those are the rules, Karina, you know that,” I reminded her.
Karina and I had fallen into a sibling relationship since our trek from hell through the city. We would usually eat our meals together and she would tell me about her day. She still annoyed me, but in a sisterly way. Though she was far younger than my real sister, Trinity, the resemblance our relationships had was uncanny. It was nice to feel like I had family at Camp Holly.
“So I can pull guard duty, but I can’t leave the walls,” she continued in a whiney tone. “This sucks.”
She continued to complain as we made our way past the motor pool.
We had several trucks parked in the enclosed area in front of the Camp. The main gate was made up of the bus we had liberated from the post office and layers of sheet metal. Near it was Vader. Cecil had named the police APC he acquired after the Sith Lord. He thought calling it “APC” just didn’t give it the character it deserved.
The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation Page 15
