100-Days-in-Deadland(112)

Eddy’s feet looked like they’d been tied to sandbags with the way he trudged away from the truck and straight toward his mother. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The zed held its arms out and pulled Eddy into an embrace that almost seemed motherly. Until it lowered its mouth, jaws wide open, and clamped onto his throat. Eddy screamed and fell back, taking the zed with him.

Smitty jerked, and I tightened my grip. “You did this. Watch,” I ordered, though it was taking all my strength to watch the execution play out. If I was here alone, I would’ve put a bullet through Eddy’s skull to end his pain, but Tyler had been adamant about setting an example of what happened to traitors. There simply weren’t enough of us left. We had to be able to depend on each other with our lives, or else we were all doomed.

Tyler had declared that Eddy’s death would be first so that Smitty would have to watch what was about to happen to him. Everyone knew that Smitty had coerced the weaker boy to help. Eddy had simply been an unfortunate lackey, and I even found myself feeling sorry for the kid.

Smitty was the real traitor.

Eddy’s screams turned into a gurgle before quieting. He spasmed as a nearby zed joined in on his shoulder.

On the HEMTT, Jase reached under the seat and pulled out one of the long wooden spears the survivors had been making from the park’s trees. Camp Fox hadn’t had much ammunition before the outbreak. Now, their ammo supply was dangerously low and would likely run out by fall. We were forced to find new weapons. Jase walked to the side and skewered a zed that had been trying to climb onto the truck.

Eddy had quit moving, and I let out a breath. His suffering was thankfully over.

The zeds stepped back. They didn’t like the taste of their own.

It wouldn’t take long now.

The smell of urine snagged me, and I looked down to find that Smitty had pissed himself. Not that I could blame him. Death by zeds wasn’t an easy way to go, but it was easier than he deserved.

The two zeds drenched in Eddy’s blood sniffed at the air and turned toward the HEMTT. At least a dozen zeds were already on the way from every direction. Jase killed another that had reached the truck.

Eddy’s foot jerked.

Smitty tensed. “Don’t do this. Please.”

The two zeds reached the truck. Jase impaled the first, a male. He paused before killing what had been Eddy’s mother. He inhaled. Then thrust.

What had been Eddy climbed to its feet. Blood was already congealing and browning around its throat and shoulder. It turned to the HEMTT and started jogging toward us.

Tyler turned. “Now.”

We shoved Smitty off, and he collapsed, with his wrists still restrained, onto the ground ten feet below. He hopped up and started to run.

Tyler raised his pistol and shot the man in the leg.

Smitty grunted and fell onto his knee.

I reached down for a spear and killed an older zed bumping up against the back of the HEMTT.

Smitty tried to get back to his feet, but Eddy came up from behind and clamped onto his head. Smitty cried out and tried to shake Eddy off, but the zed held on, biting his scalp over and over. Smitty fell forward, screaming, twisting back and forth, but fresh zeds were strong, and Eddy hadn’t been badly injured before he turned. The zed pinned the man and tore at his face. Smitty’s high-pitched screams drew the attention of zeds that had been heading toward the truck.

Two more zeds joined in on Smitty’s legs.

His screams abruptly stopped. A man could only take so much pain before the body shut down. Though his heart must’ve still kept beating since the zeds continued to chew for several minutes before backing away, leaving behind a mangled corpse.

Eddy was the first to reach the HEMTT. Jase thrust his spear through Eddy’s eye, and the zed that had been Jase’s friend fell.

Tack and I took out the next two zeds.

We waited. More zeds came, and we killed them.

Smitty’s body quaked. It sat up. Its face and scalp were nearly gone, except for patches of skin and hair. For being a fresh zed, it took over a minute to climb to its feet with chewed up legs and restrained wrists. Once up, it hobbled right at the HEMTT.

Tack gave Smitty final rest.

“Let’s go,” Tyler said and thumped the roof of the cab. The HEMTT roared to life, and Griz drove, leaving nearly a hundred zeds slowly wandering toward us from the bowels of the camp.

Tyler sat next to me, leaned forward, and put his head in his hands. Jase stared off into the distance, and Tack pretended to sleep. When we approached Doyle’s old camp, I stared at the gate. It didn’t make sense that they’d lock up after they cleared the place. Light glinted off the silo with the faded Iowa Hawkeye logo, and I narrowed my eyes. The silos were old. Nothing should be glinting off rusted steel and dull aluminum. Then I saw another glint.