100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(49)

Tyler’s jaw tightened. “The reserve militia was formed to kill zeds and rescue survivors. They have clear orders to send over any survivors to Camp Fox. They don’t have the authority to house any survivors except for the minutemen and their families.”

Even Tyler didn’t sound like he believed his own words.

When I didn’t speak, he continued. “Listen, I know they may be a bit unorthodox, but they’re keeping the zeds clear of the Camp. And they’ve brought in eighty-seven survivors already. Maybe you misunderstood them.”

“Maybe not,” I said.

He glanced at the pile of zeds in the ditch, and then took a step closer and leaned on the gate. “It looks like you’re having your own share of problems with zeds. If you’re not ready to relocate to the Camp, I could have Doyle send over a squad every day or so to help clear the area.”

I belted out a laugh, and Tyler frowned. “What’s so funny?”

I pointed to the pile. “Those zeds are courtesy of Doyle.”

He stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

I leaned on the gate. “Dogs come by in a garbage truck every day and dump zeds over our gate because we refused to pay tribute to the militia. We had no problem keeping zeds out of this area until the Dogs started importing them.”

Tyler cursed. Then he reached up and his thumb brushed against my cheek, startling me. “Come to the Camp. Doyle has no authority there. You’ll be safe from him and the militia.” He motioned toward the tree line. “All of your friends here can come, too. Out here, alone, it’s too dangerous. I’ve heard about entire herds of zeds moving through Missouri right now. At the Camp we’re rebuilding the way things used to be.”

I stood and watched him for a moment. “How long do you think Camp Fox is safe from Doyle?”


“Doyle reports into Lieutenant Colonel Lendt, and we’ve treated the militia fairly. I might not agree with Doyle’s methods, let alone like the guy, but he’s been effective in eliminating zeds. Even if he did try something incredibly stupid,” he replied. “He has only eighteen men, most of them farmers or desk jockeys. We have over fifty trained troops holding down a base with a fortified perimeter. No one would be dumb enough to go up against Camp Fox.”

From what I’d seen of the Dogs so far, I figured they’d be exactly that kind of dumb once they got enough numbers. The Camp would be Eden for the militia.

“Well,” Tyler drawled. “I’m going to have a talk with Doyle. I’ll make sure these attacks stop. Still, I’m glad I found out about your camp.”

I cocked my head.

He grinned. “Because I got to meet you.”

I couldn’t help but smile in return.

He leaned on the fence, closer to me. “How about I come back in three days, just to check in?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

“How many of you are here?”

I narrowed my eyes and tensed. “Why does that matter?”

He held up his hands. “Relax. I’m not scoping out the place. I’m only asking so that I can bring back some MREs when I return. That’s all.”

“There are several of us here,” I replied simply. “Any food would be appreciated, and we could really use some 9mm rounds if you’ve got extra.”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” He paused and glanced back at the Humvee before looking back to me. “The offer stands. If you or anyone here wants to relocate to the Camp, you just let me know. You’d like it there.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll mention it to the others.” I didn’t mention that the others had been listening the entire time.

He reached into his pocket, smiled, and handed me a candy bar. “See you three days from now.”

****

Three days later



Clutch was crankier than usual while we scouted the woods. “I don’t trust them to not take control of us or our resources.”

“I don’t either,” I said. “But Tyler offered to bring us supplies.”

“Feels like bribery.” He shook his head. “We can’t count on them for help. We take care of ourselves.”

“But we can’t turn down any food or supplies,” I said.

“He’s working with the Dogs.”

“But he doesn’t trust them.” I shrugged. “Not completely, anyway.”

“He was flirting with you.”

I stopped and looked at Clutch. After a moment, I put a hand dramatically over my heart. “My, oh my. Is big bad Clutch jealous?”

He scowled.

I laughed. “Tyler’s too pretty and not nearly grumpy enough to hold my attention.”

Clutch narrowed his eyes. “What—”

A pained howl sounded beyond the trees, yanking our attention back to the woods.

“That sounds close,” I said.

Clutch took the lead and jogged us through the trees, keeping our weapons ready for any zeds that could be skulking around.

More cries followed, and we closed in on the pitiful sounds.

At the edge of the woods, three zeds tore at a fallen tree trunk. A fourth zed, several feet away, chewed on something with golden fur.

A tiny shriek shot out from inside the log, and I gave Clutch a quick glance. He gave a nod, and we moved in. One of the zeds saw us right away. It came to its feet with a moan, bringing the attention of the other two at the log.