100-Days-in-Deadland(96)

“We’ve got trouble,” I murmured.

“Truck” was all Clutch said, and we both sprinted back to the still-running vehicle.

As Clutch tore out of there, I watched the zeds through the back window. They stood under the apple tree, watching us, as though daring us to come back.

I turned back around and sighed. For more apples, I just might.





Chapter XXII


“You’ll stay at my side and do everything I say,” Clutch said on our way to Camp Fox. “This situation could go FUBAR in a flash. I don’t like you this close to the action, but I’d rather have you with me than alone at the park.”

I yawned, then saluted. “Yes, Sergeant Bad Ass, sir.”

He muttered something under his breath. I grinned and went back to scanning the dark landscape.

It took us two hours driving without headlights and around the ever-growing numbers of zeds to get to Camp Fox. By then, my nerves had amped up a million levels. I’d fought against zeds plenty. This was my first time playing the aggressor against other people, and I felt sorely unprepared.

At the Camp’s front gate, we found a friendly reception and load of gear and weapons waiting for us. Clutch helped me gear up before fastening on his own armor. As I checked out my new sniper rifle, Tyler drove up with a Humvee full of troops with faces painted black.

They stepped outside and we all formed a circle around Tyler.

He looked over everyone, and then threw me a plastic container. I unscrewed the lid to find what I guessed was dark face paint. Clutch dipped two fingers in and started wiping it across his face, and I did the same.

“Sarge, you’ve got Tack, Southpaw, Cash, Eddy, and Jase,” Tyler said. “Everyone else is with Griz and me. Here’s the plan.”

****

Two hours later, Bravo team lay flat on the grassy hill behind the rest stop, waiting for Tyler’s signal. To my right, Mutt, an honorary member of Bravo, was sprawled out next to Jase, seemingly unconcerned that shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Eddy was on Jase’s other side, one of his legs shaking. To my left, with Clutch between us, was Southpaw, the other sniper in Bravo. Tack was silent and unmoving next to Southpaw, and I couldn’t tell if he was even awake.

Clutch looked like he was analyzing the situation, and I turned my attention back to my target. There were two guards on the backside of the rest stop, one on each corner. Southpaw and I each had our assigned target in our sights for the past ten minutes. Just waiting for the signal.

We each had a role in the straight-forward mission: Go at them from both sides. Take down the guards. Smoke out any hiding in the rest stop and neutralize. Grab the fuel trucks and reclaim any weapons and ammunition.

Clutch tensed, and I suspected he was getting the call from Tyler. Camp Fox had been ill-equipped for war, leaving only the three mission leaders with headsets.

“Bravo. Received.” Clutch turned to Southpaw and then to me. “Green light.” He paused for a three-count while we each readied to fire. “Green light, go.”

I inhaled. As I exhaled, I pulled the trigger. My target fell to the ground, unmoving. My shot was echoed by Southpaw’s rifle, and his target collapsed.

“Nice.” Clutch held up two fingers and motioned back and forth.

Show time.

Clutch took the lead, with Tack, Jase, and Eddy lined up one by one in trail. Southpaw and I stayed behind to take out Dogs before they posed a risk to our guys, though I suspected Clutch’s motive was to keep me out of danger, leaving Southpaw behind to cover me.

The rest stop, right off the interstate, was a smart location for moving large trucks. Instead of fences, every forty feet or so, there was a zed, buried up to its knees and chained to the ground. Interesting defense.

Lights erupted from an amped-up pickup truck and its horn blared.

“Shit!” I muttered.

“Guess the surprise is up,” Southpaw said from my left, sounding none too happy.

Alpha team reached the rest stop as soon as the first Dog emerged. Clutch took him out with a clean chest shot.

Clutch slammed against the building, nearly dropping his gun. It was then I noticed the Dog he’d shot wasn’t a man at all but a young woman. As Clutch leaned against the building, I wanted to shout, she’s a Dog, goddammit! Instead, I fired off a shot at the next Dog coming through the door.

The shot snapped Clutch out of his stupor. He pulled up his rifle, shot a glance my way, and headed back into the fray. Jase fired off several shots, and I heard him yell. Mutt took off running and jumped onto an injured Dog trying to flee. The coyote tore at his throat and clawed at his skin until the Dog’s screams found silence.