100 Days in Deadland

He sighed. “I received a report of insurgents in this vicinity. My source said there were folks stealing from other survivors.”


“You’re looking in the wrong place for thieves,” I said. “We’ve had supplies stolen from us, but we’ve never taken anything from a survivor.”

His brows lifted. “Did you see who did it?”

“Of course,” I said. “They held us at gunpoint. It was Doyle’s Dogs. The so-called militia. And they’ve hit us more than once.”

Tyler shook his head. “We send them out with supplies to help survivors, not to steal from them.”

I cocked my head. “And you believe that?”

He lowered his head and rubbed his temples. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore when it comes to the militia.”

I felt sorry for him. His intentions seemed genuine, but we still had a problem to deal with. “If the Dogs are working with you, then you clearly have a communication problem or you’re lying to me.”

He sighed. His eyes narrowed and he smiled. “I’ve seen you before.”

“In Chow Town,” I said. “It looked like you were picking up survivors.”

“Chow Town.” He gave a tight chuckle. “That’s a good name for it. Yeah, I’ve been through there quite a few times.” Then he slowly shook his head. “Dang, I wish you would’ve stopped.”

“I’d had a long day,” I said.

“Too bad. I wanted to meet you. And, I could’ve offered you Camp Fox’s hospitality.”

My breath hardened. “The Dogs wanted to lock me up with the other women for my own ‘safety’,” I said with air quotes. “If you’re offering the same kind of hospitality as the militia, I’m not interested.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened. “The reserve militia was formed to kill zeds and rescue survivors. They have clear orders to send over any survivors to Camp Fox. They don’t have the authority to house any survivors except for the minutemen and their families.”

Even Tyler didn’t sound like he believed his own words.

When I didn’t speak, he continued. “Listen, I know they may be a bit unorthodox, but they’re keeping the zeds clear of the Camp. And they’ve brought in eighty-seven survivors already. Maybe you misunderstood them.”

“Maybe not,” I said.

He glanced at the pile of zeds in the ditch, and then took a step closer and leaned on the gate. “It looks like you’re having your own share of problems with zeds. If you’re not ready to relocate to the Camp, I could have Doyle send over a squad every day or so to help clear the area.”

I belted out a laugh, and Tyler frowned. “What’s so funny?”

I pointed to the pile. “Those zeds are courtesy of Doyle.”

He stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

I leaned on the gate. “Dogs come by in a garbage truck every day and dump zeds over our gate because we refused to pay tribute to the militia. We had no problem keeping zeds out of this area until the Dogs started importing them.”

Tyler cursed. Then he reached up and his thumb brushed against my cheek, startling me. “Come to the Camp. Doyle has no authority there. You’ll be safe from him and the militia.” He motioned toward the tree line. “All of your friends here can come, too. Out here, alone, it’s too dangerous. I’ve heard about entire herds of zeds moving through Missouri right now. At the Camp we’re rebuilding the way things used to be.”

I stood and watched him for a moment. “How long do you think Camp Fox is safe from Doyle?”


“Doyle reports into Lieutenant Colonel Lendt, and we’ve treated the militia fairly. I might not agree with Doyle’s methods, let alone like the guy, but he’s been effective in eliminating zeds. Even if he did try something incredibly stupid,” he replied. “He has only eighteen men, most of them farmers or desk jockeys. We have over fifty trained troops holding down a base with a fortified perimeter. No one would be dumb enough to go up against Camp Fox.”

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