by Rachel Aukes
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.
Chapter XXIII
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 gu
nfire 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 zeds 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.”
All three of us checked our weapons one last time.
The glass shattered.
Clutch yelled, “Run!”
And we did.
Chapter XXIV
We bolted out the back door. Tack fired the first shots, clearing the patio. Clutch took the lead from there. I gripped my rifle as I sprinted behind him, with Tack at my side. It was still dark, but the coming dawn shed enough light to reveal outlines of zeds waiting in the shadows.
We ran in the opposite direction than we’d come. We ran through backyards, turning at fences and dodging zeds, shooting open escape routes. Once we broke from the herd near the house, Clutch set the pace at a quick jog, faster than any zed but slow enough that we could keep this pace for some time, if we had to.
And we had to. My clothes were soaked and my muscles burned by the time the sun reached into the sky. It was already easily eighty degrees and it was still morning. Body armor held the heat against my skin.
We could outrun any zed easily enough. But more just kept showing up. Around every corner, out of every alley. As soon as we got away from one herd, we’d find ourselves smack dab in the middle of another, and we’d have to zig and zag around houses and cars.
Tack ran out of ammo first. I was out eight rounds later. When Clutch’s rifle clicked empty, I think we all sucked in a collective breath. With nothing but pistols and knives, we kept running. The sun baked my head under the helmet, and I had to drop my rifle and backpack to keep up with the guys’ longer strides. My lungs couldn’t suck enough air by the time the zeds’ numbers dwindled and we reached an industrial park. Clutch slowed to a stop, bent over with his hands braced on his legs, and panted. I fell back against a wall, sucking air. Tack walked slowly, his hands on his hips, while he caught his breath.
Tack huffed, pointed to the north, his finger shaky. “There’s an old bridge that leads out of town just beyond these buildings.”
Clutch reported our status to Tyler, and then faced us. “They got the trucks back to Camp Fox okay.”
“Thank God,” I panted out.
Clutch did a slow three-sixty. Sweat dripped from his brow. “We have to keep moving. Too much open space. We’re easy targets out here.”
As though on cue, two zeds stumbled around the corner. The first, a farmer in jeans and cowboy boots, lumbered forward. At its side came a heavily tattooed biker zed with an intricate dragon climbing its sunbaked arm.
Two shots and the zeds fell. I turned to find Tack with his pistol still leveled where the zeds had been standing a second earlier.
Clutch sucked in another breath. “Let’s move out. It won’t take long for these guys’ pals to catch up.”
It took all my strength to push off from the wall and propel myself forward. Every boot step pounded the pavement. Every building seemed a mile long. We wheezed air. I stumbled over a curb.
At the end of an old warehouse, a bridge waited, its iron trusses reaching upward like welcoming arms. Several cars were smashed on it, preventing any vehicles from crossing.
Bodies rotted on the ground, but surprisingly, there were no zeds walking around.
I came to a stop at the same time Clutch and Tack must’ve seen it. A truck was parked not far from the bridge. The machine gun mounted on back was pointed right at us.
The Dogs were waiting for us.
Chapter XXV
“Shit!” I flattened myself against the wall, and Clutch and Tack did the same. “Think they saw us?” I asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But they had to hear Tack’s shots,” Clutch replied. “They’re probably stationed there to hold us back until the herd gets here. They’ve got front row seats for wa
tching us get shredded.”
“There’s no way we can cross that bridge without getting gunned down,” Tack said.
“And there’s bound to be zeds in the river,” I added.
A zed came around the far corner of the building. It moaned and kept walking toward us, followed by at a least a hundred more, and more kept showing up. My heart lurched. “Looks like the party is about to start.”
“Time’s up,” Clutch said. “We have to take our chances at the bridge.”
“Wait,” I said, and I examined the iron bridge. “What if we go under the bridge?”
Both men looked at me.
“The undersides of some of these bridges are just big I-beams. We might be able to shimmy across.”
Clutch’s brow furrowed. “It could work. If we stay low and behind the roadblock, the Dogs might not be able to hit us.”
Moans and shuffling steps grew closer. The herd was halfway down the building now.
“Give it a shot?” Tack asked.
“Why not.” Clutch took off in a hunched-over run.
I followed and Tack hung back to cover our flank. It was hard to run bent over, weighted down by what remained of my gear and exhausted from nearly four hours of running through half the alleys and backstreets of Chow Town. I stumbled and Tack helped me back to my feet. My legs were jelly, but from somewhere deep inside, fresh adrenaline numbed my body and senses, and I kept moving behind Clutch toward the bridge.
Two zeds emerged from the bridge and came at us, but they were easy enough to maneuver around. I dove to the edge of the embankment. Clutch already had a leg over the embankment. He held out a hand. “Grab on to me,” he ordered. I reached out, and he snatched me against him and took a step down the embankment. He lost his footing and slid onto his back, pulling me against his chest. We slid several feet down before Clutch found traction again.
One of the zeds rolled past us and into the river below. The second followed a second later, grabbing Clutch’s arm on its way down. We were dragged several feet before I was able to kick it loose, and it tumbled away.
