I snapped the journal shut and looked up to find Jase watching me. His gaze questioned me, and I noticed that both he and Griz had their headlamps on; I clicked on mine. “I’m ready,” I said quickly. The band rubbed uncomfortably against my stitches, but it was better than going in blind. Griz stopped outside the door, and I refocused on the mission.
As we stood behind Griz, I thought on Tyler’s words. He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. We all knew that this boat was Camp Fox’s best hope. That’s why I’d come along, even knowing it was a political play on Tyler’s part. I sure as shit wasn’t here because I enjoyed walking into the dank interior of a towboat with who-knew-how-many hungry zeds waiting around every corner and in every shadowy nook.
Griz glanced back at us. “We stick with the usual plan. I’ll be on point. Jase, you’re at my six. Cash, you’ll be sweeper in case we need to break out the artillery.”
“Yeah, got it,” Jase said.
I nodded. “Just give me a minute to set up before you make contact.”
Griz opened the door, his homemade machete ready. The stench wafted out. He stepped onto the top of the metal steps that led into the dark bowels of the towboat. Jase followed, and I brought up the rear. It didn’t matter if it was Griz or Tyler. They both always put me in back. They kept Jase in back, too, if any of the other soldiers were involved. I figured it was because we didn’t have military training, and they had some kind of idea that the military was the first line, that they were there to protect us civilians. I didn’t waste the breath explaining that Clutch had been training Jase and me since the outbreak.
Griz paused at the top step, and I could hear a rustling below. Jase gave him plenty of space to retreat, but he didn’t move back. Then, he descended a couple steps and waited. I stepped onto the first step in the darkness and looked down. My headlamp shone on the four zeds waiting at the bottom of the stairs, clawing out at us. Unable to climb the steps, they were almost comedic. Almost.
I lined up the sights on my M24. “Ready,” I said.
Jase moved around me, and the two men descended down the steps. Griz swung first, taking down the closest zed. Jase stayed behind. The second zed tripped over the first zed and tumbled toward Griz. Jase swung, and then kicked the lifeless thing away. Griz brought his sharp blade onto the head of the other zed the same time Jase finished the final one with a dramatic swing.
He held up a hand. “Stay here.” He jumped over the bodies and paced around what looked to be the crew quarters. After he checked every shadowed corner and around every bed, he called up, “Clear.”
I lifted my rifle and moved down the metal steps. With only our headlamps for light, shadows danced around the lockers and beds. We gathered around the next steel door.
“We can wait here, or do you guys want to keep going?” Griz asked.
“Keep going,” Jase said quickly.
“I want to get this boat cleared,” I added.
Griz smiled and then opened the door. A zed lunged at him. “Agh!”
Jase lunged forward and slashed the badly decayed zed across its face. Griz shoved the body off him and rolled to his feet, slamming his machete into the zed’s head.
Moans erupted from the darkness. Jase jumped back and Griz slammed the door shut.
Ah, hell. We weren’t even close to being done yet.
Chapter XII
Once we had a chance to regroup, Jase opened the steel door, and Griz tossed a snap light into the room several steps below. A green glow lit up the open space. Several dark shapes clumsily and erratically ran into one another to pounce at the light.
Jase whistled. “There’s got to be a dozen of them down there.”
Griz let out a sigh. “It’s too dangerous to take them out hand-to-hand. We could wait for Maz’s team, but either way, sweeping the area is our safest option.” He turned to me. Shadows danced across his face. “Cash, you’re on. Jase, stand by the door. I’ll yank Cash back if they get too close, and you shut the door.”