“How many are with you?” Clutch asked, kicking the rifle away.
“I’m alone. I swear it,” the guy answered, keeping his hands on his head. “Please don’t kill me.”
“I won’t if you keep telling the truth,” Clutch said.
“You…you won’t?” The young man sounded genuinely surprised.
I could’ve asked Clutch the same thing. I scanned the area and saw a shape shambling around the edge of the woods. I pulled out the bat and stalked toward it while keeping an eye on the Dog kneeling before Clutch.
“I’m going to ask you some questions,” Clutch said. “Take my advice. Don’t lie.”
The Dog nodded furiously.
“What are your orders?”
“Wa-watch for you. Call in if I see you.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes!”
“Why are you alone?”
The Dog didn’t answer.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Clutch said.
“Camp Fox invaded our camp,” the kid quickly replied. “A lot of guys are busy relocating their families.”
The zed had noticed the two men and was making its way toward them. At first, I thought it was bloated, but then I realized it was pregnant, probably near-term when it’d been bitten. Bile rose in my throat as I readied the bat. A purse hung across the zed’s body, and it hobbled in one sandal. It hissed and turned to me when I approached. I swung. Its head broke open like a beanbag.
“When’s the next shift arrive?” Clutch asked, turning back to the Dog after watching me kill the zed.
“Eight o’clock,” he replied, his voice cracking.
When I approached the Dog from behind, Clutch nodded, and I disarmed him, startling him. The Dog was young, not much older than Jase, and obviously scared shitless.
“Cripes, kid,” Clutch said. “You’re too young to be caught up with the likes of Doyle.”
The Dog jutted out his chin. “Doyle saved my life. We’re going to make Fox Hills safe again.”
“Keep telling yourself that, kid,” Clutch said.
I lifted a two-way radio I’d found on the Dog’s belt.
Clutch narrowed his eyes. “How often do you report in?”
The Dog swallowed. “The bottom of every hour.”
Clutch glanced at his watch. “Looks like you got seven minutes. What’s the code for all-clear?”
He didn’t answer.
“The code for all-clear?” Clutch asked more firmly, lifting his shotgun.
“The eagle soars,” he replied quickly.
Clutch held out the two-way radio. “Report in. This time, with the right code for all-clear, and I’ll let your last fib pass.”
The Dog’s jaw dropped before he snapped it shut. He nodded tightly. He took the radio, took a deep breath, and clicked the side. “Hamster reporting in. Over.”
“Base. Report. Over.”
“The swallow has flown, repeat, the swallow has flown. Over.”
A slight pause.
“Affirmative. The swallow has flown. Over.”
The Dog handed the radio back to Clutch.
“You aren’t a bad kid. It’s too bad you got hooked up with Doyle.”
“I owe my life to Doyle,” he replied.
“And he’s made sure he gets exactly that from you,” Clutch said. “Dammit, kid. You shouldn’t have lied on the radio.”
“Wha—what?” The Dog’s wide eyes shot up. “No!” he cried out the instant before Clutch blew his brains out.
My mouth fell open.
Clutch slung his shotgun back over his shoulder. “The Dogs need to work on their codes. The Swallow Has Flown is an acronym for the Shit’s Hit the Fan. Code 101.” He kicked at the gravel. “Goddammit, kid, why’d you have to go and force my hand?”
“How much time do you think we have?” I asked, staring at the Dog’s body.
“If he was telling the truth that Lendt hit Doyle’s Camp, then it may take them awhile. Then again, they could have a unit close by already.”
“We better hurry, then.”