100-Days-in-Deadland(114)

The wind made the flight bumpy. They’d hear me coming, but I didn’t care. If Doyle hadn’t fled his camp already, he would never abandon his camp.

The silos of Doyle’s camp came into view eight minutes later. I descended as I approached. I flew right over the camp, looking down to see shaved heads looking up at me. They looked filthy and half-starved. Then I saw the only man without a shaved head. He waved his arms at his Dogs, and someone fired. Then a symphony of gunfire sounded around me.

Where the hell had they gotten their hands on all that firepower? Camp Fox had cut them off, yet these guys were shooting like they had an unlimited supply of ammo. Nevertheless, I couldn’t turn back now. I started my one-eighty.

Get ’em where I want ’em.

I grabbed the duffel from the seat in front of me. I set the bag on my lap and opened it. As I neared the camp with nearly all of its occupants outside firing at me, I searched out Doyle. When I found him, I pulled the pin on the first grenade and dropped it. But the wind and velocity grabbed at the grenade, and it blew at least fifty feet away.

“Dammit,” I muttered and quickly pulled the pins on two more, dropping them.

Dogs were running in different directions while continuing to send fully automatic gunfire my way. I tightly circled overhead, dropping grenades onto the camp.

Sudden agony pierced my calf, sending searing pain every time I touched the rudder pedal, but I remained focused on my mission.

The propane tanks in the camp exploded, and the blast rocked the small Cub.

I righted the plane and continued to drop grenades until the bag was empty. Then I broke away and cut the engine to land silently in a hay field just on the other side of a band of trees, hiding me from the camp. I went to climb out of the plane and winced, grabbing my left calf. My hand came away bloody.

I’d been shot.

If they were using tainted bullets, the virus was now flowing in my veins.

Not much time now. I had to hurry.

I grimaced and tied a bandana around the wound and climbed out. I reached in for my rifle and started to limp my way into the trees and toward the camp.

I figured the Dogs would’ve assumed this was a hit-and-run attack. Since no trucks broke down their gates, they were now safe.

That’s where they’d be wrong.





Chapter XXXIV


What came next had to be up close and personal.

I approached the camp from its backside. The zed pit was still there, full of rotting corpses. I held up my rifle, using the scope to scan the ground, then the silos. It still looked like an abandoned camp except for the smoke.

Even I hadn’t given Doyle’s camp a second thought when we’d evacuated Camp Fox. We’d all been fools to not double check.

As I limped closer, I could hear the voices. They sounded like an echo of the dying at Camp Fox. My heart clenched. I’d caused this. I knew not all these people were bad, some were simply misled. I inhaled deeply and moved forward. There was no other way.

Sometimes, only killing would stop further killing.

I’d planned to dip the grenades in zed goo and give them a taste of their own medicine. I’d believed they deserved the karma after the hundreds of innocents they’d slaughtered. But, at the last moment I realized I couldn’t go through with that. I refused to sink to their level. These men were getting off easy.

Not all would be so lucky. The noise would attract zeds from Camp Fox, which was part of my plan. I was counting on them to take care of anyone I missed.

No guard stood at the gate by the pit, and I cracked the gate open and peered inside. Through the dusty, smoky haze, I could see contorted bodies littering the ground. Some moved, many didn’t. I limped across the camp, quickly glancing from body to body. One man covered in blood reached out to me for help but I continued on.

With my shaved head, no one seemed to notice me through the haze. They were all preoccupied. After I ran out of bodies to check, I gritted my teeth and headed toward Doyle’s office.

I’d really hoped to finish him off the easy way.

I didn’t even pause before throwing the steel door open.

Inside, I found Doyle alone, sitting with one leg up on a desk, wrapping his bloodied forearm. When he looked up, his eyes widened, and he reached for his rifle propped behind his desk.

“Don’t,” I ordered, pulling shut and dead bolting the door behind me.

He leaned back and watched me. His faded yellow cap was stained and bloody cuts crisscrossed his soot-covered face. “Where’s Clutch? I figured he’d come to finish the job himself.”