by Rachel Aukes
Clutch held me tight. I lay against him, panting. I looked down, and swallowed. If we’d slid another fifteen feet, we would’ve landed right on top of a couple dozen hungry zeds hungrily trapped at the edge of the river. They couldn’t climb the steep incline, and they couldn’t enter the river without being swept away (which I suspected was what had happened to quite a few zeds already).
“Don’t do that again,” I muttered against Clutch’s chest.
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. Then he pressed a couple fingers to his headset. “Bravo needs pickup now. We’ve got half of Chow Town waiting for us on one side of the bridge, and Dogs set up to chase us down on the other.”
Silence except for the growing hum of moans and shuffling feet.
Clutch scowled. “Copy that. Three hours. Over and out.”
I pulled out a flask and took a quick drink. It was still half full, but no telling how long we’d be out here. There was no sound of engines, which meant the Dogs were still there but hopefully still oblivious to us. “Did you see how many Dogs were in that truck?”
Clutch shook his head.
I continued. “Once we get across we might be close enough to get clear shots.”
“That’s assuming they don’t take us out while we’re climbing across,” Clutch replied.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I whispered and glanced back to find Tack climbing up onto an I-beam under the bridge.
I pulled away from Clutch but kept close by his side as I crawled toward Tack. The underside of the bridge was a zigzag of iron. After cracking my knuckles, I grabbed onto an I-beam. The beams were large, so there was plenty to grab on to, but I wasn’t convinced I had the strength in my fingers and arms to get all the way across. I slid my legs around an I-beam and shimmied toward Tack.
He was already several feet ahead and putting more distance between us. I followed, with Clutch behind me. It wasn’t a long bridge by bridge standards, but the arm strength it took for pulling myself across, it could’ve been the Golden Gate. Every time a gunshot rang out, I froze, waiting to feel horrible piercing pain. But none ever came. At only about a third of the way across, my arms shook, as much from my fear of heights as from my own body weight.
At the halfway point, two I-beams intersected and I was able to lean on one to catch my breath, though the humid air did nothing to help my breathing. Afraid if I stopped too long, I’d never get across, and so I continued. Minute by minute, putting one hand before the other, I made it to the three-quarters point, then only ten feet left. Eight, six, four.
By the time I reached the end, I had nothing left. I literally dropped off the bridge and collapsed onto the ground next to Tack. I rolled onto my back and grasped long grass with both hands.
Clutch dropped next to me, and we all lay there for several moments. When Tack moved, I stayed put, watching him Army crawl up the hill and scout the scene. This side wasn’t quite as steep and—thankfully—zed-free. He backed himself down to us.
“SITREP?” Clutch asked.
“I see only two Dogs,” Tack replied in a hoarse whisper. “One driver and one gunner. The driver looks like he’s taking a lunch break. The gunner is busy watching the herd behind us. I think they’ve got him spooked. I count three zeds at the tree line. A few more dead on the ground.”
Which explained the random gunshots.
“Can we get close enough to take them out without being seen?” Clutch asked.
“Maybe,” Tack replied. “It looks like the gunner is still watching the other side of the bridge for us.”
Clutch nodded and pulled out his pistol. “We head for the tree line. That way, if we’re seen, we can still find cover. Cash, you take the driver. I’ll take the gunny. Tack, make sure we’re covered.” He didn’t wait for a response.
“There’s no telling how many zeds are in those trees,” Tack warned.
I shot him a quick glance, grabbed my pistol and crawled up the hill, and stopped next to Clutch while he scanned the area. The truck sat less than a hundred yards off. Easy shot with a rifle any day of the week, except I no longer had my rifle. The driver’s side window was open, and he was taking a bite out of an MRE. The gunner in the back of the truck was leaning on the cab, still intently watching the bridge.
Clutch took off at a run toward the trees, and I dragged myself behind him. No shots fired from the truck. Clutch slid behind a wide tree, and I slammed into him, unable to stop my forward momentum. He caught me before I knocked us both down. Tack grabbed the tree next to us. A shadow moved several feet away, and Clutch took off, weaving around trees for the truck. A skinny zed emerged from a tree to our right, and Tack shoved a blade through its head.
When we reached the trees closest to the truck, we were no more than ten feet away from the zeds making their way to the truck.
“Ready?” Clutch asked.
“Ready,” I whispered.
He motioned. “Now.”
We ran out and started firing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the gunner spin the .30 cal toward us. Machine gun fire drowned out the pops of our pistols. My first shot planted harmlessly into the truck door, but as I closed the distance, my aim improved. The driver snapped back, and red splattered the passenger window. The .30 cal died soon after, leaving behind silence.
“Clear,” I said.
“Clear,” Clutch echoed before turning around. “How many zeds now?”
“Five,” Tack replied, coming up from behind.
I sighed, and Clutch rubbed my shoulder. “Just a bit longer,” he murmured.
The five zeds had broken from their way to the truck and reached out toward us. That zeds always seemed to prefer their prey living over the freshly deceased had never made any sense to me. I would’ve thought they’d go for the easy meal, but it seemed like they were predators at heart.
Tack took down the nearest zed. I fired a single shot at the zed on the left, and Clutch fired several shots to take out the cluster of three. No one bothered to make sure they were down for good. Seemed like we all had the same idea: get away from Chow Town as quickly as possible.
Tack jumped in the back of the four-by-four and threw the dead gunner off. I opened the door and found the driver still sputtering blood. Air hissed through the hole in his cheek. He wasn’t moving, just in the final death throes. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him out the truck, let him collapse onto the ground at Clutch’s feet.
Clutch rifled through the man’s pockets. Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I noticed another zed emerging from the tree line. “There are more headed our way,” I said.
Clutch climbed behind the wheel, and pressed his headset. “Bravo is Oscar Mike in a Dog truck. Repeat, Bravo is Oscar Mike. ETA is one hour, over and out.”
I sat down on the leather seat and sighed. Every muscle in my body was exhausted. After two long breaths with my eyes closed, I grabbed bottles of water and protein bars off the floor and tossed them to the guys. Between bites, I sifted through the glove box, finding a box of condoms, a flashlight, and a six-shooter. I grabbed everything.
I checked out the handheld radio on the seat. “I wonder when these guys were supposed to check in.”
“Fingers crossed, they just did,” Clutch said. “We could use extra time to put some distance between their last location and us.”
If Clutch had said anything else, I missed it. I fell asleep somewhere between ten and twenty seconds into the drive.
I awoke with Clutch nudging me, and I grumbled. “Lemme sleep.”
“We’re at Camp Fox.”
I may have snarled at him, but I opened the door, climbed out, and grunted at my quickly stiffening muscles. I wasn’t going to be able to move tomorrow.
“Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Tyler said walking toward us with a wide smile.
Jase ran out from behind his captain and pulled me into a hug. Mutt hopped around us. Jase stepped back and wrinkled his nose. “Jesus. You guys need showers.”
“How many were lost?” Clutch asked.
“Three brave souls,” Tyler replied. “But we gained fuel trucks and cut into Doyle’s numbers.” Then his jaw tightened. “How’d Southpaw bite it?”
“It was the darndest thing,” Tack said. “He was shot. Then he turned.”
Tyler frowned. “Same thing happened to two of Alpha team. The only thing we can figure out is that the Dogs dipped their ammo in zed blood.”
I raised my brows. “Wow, that’s low.”
“But smart,” Clutch said. “They don’t have to be accurate, only good enough to nick one of us with a shot, and we’re no longer an issue.” Then he frowned. “I’d think the guns would jam from sticky bullets.”
Tyler grimaced. “It’s messed up, true enough. Let’s head to my office and debrief.”
“Later,” Clutch said. “Bravo team needs rest first.”
Tyler moved his gaze slowly over the three of us before nodding. “Understood. But we need to debrief as soon as you’re up. We have extra racks in the troops’ barracks if you want to stay. Tack can show you around.”
Clutch looked to me, and I shrugged. “Okay, for now at least.”
Tyler smiled. “You’ll find Camp Fox is more secure than ever. You’re safe here.”
“You haven’t seen our camp yet,” Clutch replied.
“No, I haven’t,” Tyler said. “Where are you at now?”
Clutch paused before speaking. “We’re at Fox Park. Cash and I thought it could be made into a solid fallback location for the Camp. It needs a lot of work, but we should always prepare for the worst.”
“Agreed. I’ll mention the park to Colonel Lendt. A fallback location doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though I doubt we’ll need it. We’ve got Doyle on the run and the zeds will be gone come winter.”
“What makes you so sure the zeds will die out when winter comes?” I asked.
“Their bodies are decaying, and they are running off the most basic of instincts,” he replied. “They’ll die from exposure because they’re not smart enough to seek shelter. That is, if their bodies don’t rot away by then.”
After watching a zed continue to function completely under water for days, I had my doubts. “And if they don’t die off or rot away?”
Tyler shrugged. “Then we keep killing them.”
Chapter XXVI
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.”
Chapter XXVII
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.
