100 Days in Deadland (part 1 of the Deadland Saga)

Malice (Chapter 27)

MALICE: The Eighth Circle of Hell

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 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.

“We’re good. We’re not bit,” I replied before rolling off Eddy and leaning back.

"Zeds take the whole ‘you are what you eat’ thing way too seriously," Eddy chuckled then dropped his head back. “Jesus, that was close.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and eyed Clutch. “The information those two Dogs have better be worth it.”

****

 “…The militias are struggling, but they’re still fighting the good fight. Keep them in your prayers.

In further news, I’ve yet to verify the rumors circulating that a centralized government is being organized and that new ‘super’ cities are being architected. I’ve asked Lt. Col. Lendt at Camp Fox for confirmation, but I’ve gotten no response. Same story, different day. But I’m going to keep asking. You hear me, Lendt? I’m going to keep asking until you give me an answer or send in your troops and shut me up.

Here’s my thought for the day: The zeds are the enemy, so why is Lendt withholding information that could save lives? My advice? Trust no one, my friends, whether they have a pulse or not.

This is Hawkeye broadcasting on AM 1340. Be safe and know that you’re not alone.”

“That radio jockey is a splinter in my sphincter,” Lendt said as he sat down at the table where Clutch, Jase, Eddy, and I were eating leftovers from dinner. Mutt was tearing into our scraps on the floor.

“Have you met with Hawkeye before?” I asked, twirling more spaghetti around my fork.

“He hasn’t even tried to contact me,” Lendt replied. “And I’m not exactly a hard person to find.”

Hawkeye’s transmission was a recorded broadcast, one that I’d heard earlier, but they replayed his daily transmissions every four hours at the request of the civilians on base. His voice had something familiar about it, yet I couldn’t quite place him.

Not yet, anyway.

“Well, are you withholding information?” I asked.

“What goddamn information do I have to withhold?” Lendt countered, then cracked his neck. “Folks think that just because I’m a colonel that I have some super-secret handshake. I know as much as anyone else. NORAD hasn’t made contact yet. Everything I hear is from other bases in the same boat as we are.”

“Have you thought about tracking down Hawkeye to set the record straight? Maybe offer to have him interview you on the air?” I asked. “It sounds like he’s trying to rile up the civvies against you.” Then it hit me. Hawkeye disliked Lendt, just like Doyle had. Yet, Lendt had done all right by me so far.

Lendt chuckled. “He’s definitely trying to rile folks up, but he’s a conspiracy theorist, and that’s what conspiracy theorists do. He’s one of those people who’s suspicious of anyone in authority. It doesn’t matter what I say, he’d find a way to make me out to be the asshole.”

Tyler set his tray on the table and saluted.

“At ease, Captain,” Lendt said.

Tyler took a seat and started cutting his spaghetti. “The two men are being kept in the brig tonight for both their and our safety, per your orders, sir.”

“They should be executed for treason,” Clutch said.

“Agreed,” I added quickly, especially when I discovered Weasel was the second Dog. I’d had the heebie-jeebies since.

“They will stand trial.” Lendt smirked. “Then they’ll be executed.”

Tyler frowned and put down his fork. “They surrendered. They deserve a fair trial. Doyle put a militia together as quickly as Camp Fox moved into action at the outbreak. A lot of good men joined up to help, and a lot of the people here now owe their lives to the militia. Now, we’re going to kill them for signing up to help and then going AWOL when they realized Doyle was no longer out for the greater good?”

“They’d had no problems obeying Doyle until now,” I countered. “Why the sudden change?”

Tyler held up a hand. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate, but maybe they did want out, but they couldn’t get out until now. Have you thought of that?”

“Have you thought that they may be here under Doyle’s direction?” Clutch asked, raising the same argument we’d been having ever since the Dogs contacted Lendt. “We should be thinking of what Doyle would want in this camp.”