100 Days in Deadland

From what I’d seen of the Dogs so far, I figured they’d be exactly that kind of dumb once they got enough numbers. The Camp would be Eden for the militia.

“Well,” Tyler drawled. “I’m going to have a talk with Doyle. I’ll make sure these attacks stop. Still, I’m glad I found out about your camp.”

I cocked my head.

He grinned. “Because I got to meet you.”

I couldn’t help but smile in return.

He leaned on the fence, closer to me. “How about I come back in three days, just to check in?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“How many of you are here?”

I narrowed my eyes and tensed. “Why does that matter?”

He held up his hands. “Relax. I’m not scoping out the place. I’m only asking so that I can bring back some MREs when I return. That’s all.”

“There are several of us here,” I replied simply. “Any food would be appreciated, and we could really use some 9mm rounds if you’ve got extra.”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” He paused and glanced back at the Humvee before looking back to me. “The offer stands. If you or anyone here wants to relocate to the Camp, you just let me know. You’d like it there.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll mention it to the others.” I didn’t mention that the others had been listening the entire time.

He reached into his pocket, smiled, and handed me a candy bar. “See you three days from now.”

****

Three days later



Clutch was crankier than usual while we scouted the woods. “I don’t trust them to not take control of us or our resources.”

“I don’t either,” I said. “But Tyler offered to bring us supplies.”

“Feels like bribery.” He shook his head. “We can’t count on them for help. We take care of ourselves.”

“But we can’t turn down any food or supplies,” I said.

“He’s working with the Dogs.”

“But he doesn’t trust them.” I shrugged. “Not completely, anyway.”

“He was flirting with you.”

I stopped and looked at Clutch. After a moment, I put a hand dramatically over my heart. “My, oh my. Is big bad Clutch jealous?”

He scowled.

I laughed. “Tyler’s too pretty and not nearly grumpy enough to hold my attention.”

Clutch narrowed his eyes. “What—”

A pained howl sounded beyond the trees, yanking our attention back to the woods.

“That sounds close,” I said.

Clutch took the lead and jogged us through the trees, keeping our weapons ready for any zeds that could be skulking around.

More cries followed, and we closed in on the pitiful sounds.

At the edge of the woods, three zeds tore at a fallen tree trunk. A fourth zed, several feet away, chewed on something with golden fur.

A tiny shriek shot out from inside the log, and I gave Clutch a quick glance. He gave a nod, and we moved in. One of the zeds saw us right away. It came to its feet with a moan, bringing the attention of the other two at the log.

Clutch swung first. He took the zed’s head clean off. My swing went wide and landed in the shoulder of the second. I stepped back and swung again, this time my machete lodged into the skull. I kicked up, planting my boot against its chest, and yanked the blade free. I pulled my weapon up just as the third zed reached for me, but Clutch decapitated it, just like he’d done the first, before slamming his machete through both heads on the ground.

The fourth zed looked up and snarled, its mouth covered in fresh blood. Bites and scratches covered its face, chest, and arms, enough that would have caused serious injuries in a human. It went after Clutch, and I stepped around it and took off half its head from behind. It fell, dropping the carcass it’d been feeding on.

I edged closer to the hollow tree trunk and got down on my knees. I rested my weapon against the trunk, and Clutch stood guard.

I leaned down to find the source of the whimpering inside.

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