100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(63)

****

Several hours later, I woke, sweating and heart racing. I dreamed that Clutch was in the room with me. Except that he was a zed.

A siren pierced the night’s silence, and I lunged to the door. “What’s going on?” I called out, hoping someone was nearby.

“Echo Four reporting in, requesting status. Over.”

The soldier’s voice was to my right, but I couldn’t see him around the corner.

“All units report immediately to assigned defense points. Camp Fox is under attack. Zed Alert. Code Five. This is not a drill. Over.”

The voice on the radio repeated the message two more times before my guard stepped in front of my door, his eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He stared at me for a moment, and then took off running. A door opened and closed. Then silence.

“Damn it,” I muttered, kicking at my door. Without any visible doorknob or hinges, all I could do was shove at the door, but it was solid steel. Still I tried. Trying was better than accepting that I’d die in this tomb, either from starvation or when the zeds would finally find me. I turned and walked over to the bed. Pulled at the frame but it was screwed into the concrete floor. I returned to the door. After long minutes of kicking, a door opened somewhere. Buried under the piercing siren, I heard gunfire and screams.

Nick’s helmeted visage filled the window in my door, startling me. “It was Doyle,” he said, panting. “His men cut through the fence and laid down flares. Set off the sirens. They must’ve gone out and drawn all the zeds in the area here.”

He pulled off his helmet and wiped his forehead. “Doyle zed-bombed us.”





Chapter XIII


“There are zeds everywhere,” Nick said, putting his helmet back on. “I can’t believe it. Doyle attacked us. He really did it.”

I pressed my hand over my heart as his words sunk in. While I didn’t doubt Doyle’s ruthlessness, the reality that he’d attack hundreds of innocent people made no sense. I pressed against the door. “Let me out. I can help.”

Nick noisily fidgeted with keys. “This is your only shot. Lendt will make you stand trial, and you’ll end up either in the brig or worse. And that’s just not right. I’ve seen shit the Dogs have done. You’ve got to run.”

More rattles, I heard a click, and the door swung open. I jumped out of my cell to find Nick already jogging away, his boot steps echoing through the empty hallway. When he opened the door, the gunfire sounded way too close, but there was no way zeds should have managed to cross acres of the outer camp to get to the center.

Before I stepped outside, I paused. “I have no weapon.”

He patted a couple pockets with his hand not holding an AR-15 and pulled out a folding knife with a camo paint scheme. “It’s not much, but it’s all I can spare.”

I opened the blade. “Better than nothing.”

Nick gave my shoulder a quick pat. “Head east. That’s the quickest way out of here. I got to get to my squad. As soon as all the civvies are in their barracks, we’re going to start unloading the heavies on the zeds.” Nick sprinted toward the tanks and Humvees rolling in, likely to congregate around the barracks in the distance, and I hoped that Jase was safe.

Movement in the darkness off to Nick’s left kicked me into action. “Your nine o’clock!” I shouted, running toward him.

He twisted to his left where at least a dozen zeds tumbled out of the shadows. He held down the trigger, firing into the onslaught and taking down several zeds, but most bullets embedded harmlessly into their torsos and limbs.

I sprinted to close the distance between Nick and me.

A zed wearing a business suit emerged from the darkness behind Nick. I spun around it and embedded the knife up to its hilt into the back of the zed’s skull. I hadn’t been sure the blade was long enough until the zed collapsed.

Nick’s rifle clicked on empty. He dropped it and pulled out a pistol that looked like a Beretta 9mm.

“Conserve your ammo,” I said as I picked up the empty rifle. “Remember to go for head shots!”

Wild-eyed, he fired into the thinning group, and I pocketed the knife. I jogged over to the zeds on the fringe, ones too shot up to walk, and swung down the rifle butt, making sure to crush each skull before moving onto the next.

After Nick quit shooting, I slammed the rifle into the last moving zed.

Walking back, I held out the AR-15, now dripping with brown sludge. He finished reloading his pistol, holstered it, and looked up. He grimaced at the rifle, but took it and reloaded.

“Hasn’t anyone trained you guys on the art of killing zeds?” I held a finger to my temple. “Always go for headshots. One shot, one kill. Anywhere else is a waste of ammo unless you’re overwhelmed and have to slow them down.”

“Lay off me, I’m just ROTC,” Nick said, reloading the rifle. “It’s just different when they’re right there. They should never have gotten this far into the Camp.”

Screams erupted in the distance, and we both jerked around.

Nick’s eyes widened. “They breached the barracks!”

No. Jase!

We took off running toward the barracks, where gunfire flashed like lightning bugs in the night.

Several zeds lumbered after us along the way, but we easily outran any Nick didn’t take down with headshots.