100-Days-in-Deadland(57)

I let out a dramatic sigh with a hand fluttering to my chest. “My favorite.”

“Stop the Jeep,” Clutch ordered, and Jase slammed the brakes.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Clutch held up a finger. “Sh.”

I heard it then. The hearty growl of a big engine heading down the road.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “They’re coming back already?”

“Sounds different.” Clutch said. “Get back to the gate, but be careful. Don’t get made into a target.”

“Did I mention that I’m getting sick of this shit?” Jase muttered as he whipped the Jeep around.

I picked my M24 off the floor and checked the cartridge. Jase parked at our usual spot just before the last curve in the lane leading to the gate, and Clutch took off running for his sniper’s nest. Now that we were out of sight, I hopped out and flattened against a large tree, Jase took a tree on the opposite side of the lane.

A deep-throated engine purred nearby, and I poked my head around the tree to see a desert-tan Humvee parked at the gate. A single soldier climbed out of the passenger side. Another soldier stood behind a .30 cal mounted on the vehicle, leaving who knew how many more men with rifles hidden inside.

The soldier standing outside the Humvee held his rifle in the air before putting it back on the seat and then closing the door. He said something to the gunner, who took a step back from the .30 cal.

The soldier walked up to the gate. “This is Captain Masden with the United States National Guard,” he called out. “I’m unarmed and have come here to talk.”

This was one of those times I wished we had ear pieces so I could check in with Clutch. I wanted to ask him what to do, but I couldn’t risk him leaving his spot in the tree. He was our best and last defense.

Masden checked out the pile of zeds in the ditch before looking up and scanning the tree line. “I know you’re out there. I give you my word that my men will not fire unless you shoot first.”

I glanced over at Jase and held up my hand. Stay put. He didn’t look happy, but he readjusted his rifle to get a better view of the gate.

I propped my matching M24 against the tree so I could get to it easily in case things went to hell. “Don’t cross the gate. I’m coming out.” I waited a second before taking that first step around the tree. Knowing Clutch had me covered gave me the confidence I needed to walk up to the gate and into the view of the soldiers, even though I had no doubt each and every one of them had me in their sights.

Masden was attractive and well built, with tan skin and blond hair. Fatigues fit him nicely. The last time I’d seen him, it had been in Fox Hills, and he’d been behind the Humvee’s .30 cal.

When he saw me, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

I walked warily up to the gate and stopped just on the other side from the soldier.

He held out his hand. “I’m Captain Tyler Masden. But you can call me Tyler.”

I shook his hand. “I’m Cash.”

His lips twitched. “Cash?”

I took a breath. “What brings you here, Tyler?”

He smiled. His grin was warm, inviting, and hinted at a flirtatious personality. “I represent Camp Fox. We try to locate all survivors, and either bring them to the Camp for safety or see how we can help. Someone mentioned that there was a small camp of survivors out here.” His smile fell. “It’s also my responsibility to make sure some level of law is still obeyed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Meaning?”

He sighed. “I received a report of insurgents in this vicinity. My source said there were folks stealing from other survivors.”

“You’re looking in the wrong place for thieves,” I said. “We’ve had supplies stolen from us, but we’ve never taken anything from a survivor.”

His brows lifted. “Did you see who did it?”

“Of course,” I said. “They held us at gunpoint. It was Doyle’s Dogs. The so-called militia. And they’ve hit us more than once.”

Tyler shook his head. “We send them out with supplies to help survivors, not to steal from them.”

I cocked my head. “And you believe that?”

He lowered his head and rubbed his temples. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore when it comes to the militia.”

I felt sorry for him. His intentions seemed genuine, but we still had a problem to deal with. “If the Dogs are working with you, then you clearly have a communication problem or you’re lying to me.”