100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(97)

“That’s it.” I kept my rifle leveled on Doyle. “I don’t get you. You had a good thing going with Camp Fox. Then you had to go and f*ck things up by going after them. Twice.”

“Hmph.” Doyle leaned back. “It never would’ve lasted. Both Lendt and I were spreading my resources thin protecting the weak. Everyone would’ve all died if I didn’t change the game. It’s really quite simple. The weak had to die so that the strong can thrive.”

I stared at him for a moment. “That’s insane.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Think about it. We have limited food, limited supplies. Yet, too many people to do anything efficiently. Thinning our numbers for the strongest to survive has been the way of every species throughout history.”

“But that’s so…heartless,” I said, finding it hard to breathe.

He chuckled. “There’s no room for that sort of thing in this world.”

“You’re wrong,” I said coldly. “There’s no room for you in this world.”

He and I looked at one another for a split second. A wide grin crossed his face. “Your rifle’s empty.”

I dropped my weapon and pulled out my machete. The rifle had served its purpose as a prop. It had gotten me in front of Doyle.

He lunged, and I was too slow. We crashed to the floor, and the machete slid across the floor. He was strong for his age, stronger and bigger than me. I wasn’t able to buck him off, so I rolled, squeezing out from under him. He caught me from behind and put a chokehold on me.

I couldn’t breathe and knew I only had seconds before the lack of blood to my brain would render me unconscious. I threw my head back in an attempt to break his nose, but I hit his collarbone instead.

He grunted and then chuckled. “I’m going to have fun killing you. Clutch took Missy from me. I wonder how he’ll like it when I kill his whore.”

I pulled out my knife and stabbed him in the fleshy softness on his side.

He cursed and his grip weakened.

I shoved back onto him and rolled myself off, jumping to my feet. The room was spinning but my tunnel vision was slowly widening.

Doyle pulled himself up, holding his side. It looked like a shallow wound, just enough to piss him off.

“I’m going to keep you alive even longer for that,” he snarled out.

Someone knocked, and Doyle turned toward the door, “Get in here now!”

Whoever was on the other side yelled something and started kicking at the door.

I pulled out the last grenade from my pocket and pulled the pin. Doyle’s eyes widened.

I smiled. “You had it backwards. I’m going to have fun killing you.”

I tossed the grenade.

He rolled behind his desk. The grenade bounced off the wall behind him. He raised his rifle at me and sprayed bullets across the room.

I dove onto the table, knocking it on its side as I tumbled to the floor.

The room exploded.

I swam in a sea of vertigo and a high-pitched ringing. My body was numb and yet hurt everywhere at the same time. A faint pounding echoed somewhere in the distance. I dragged myself toward the overturned desk and clawed at the body lying there. I saw six glassy eyes staring back at me with my triple-vision, and I collapsed on my back. The floor felt less solid here. I rolled over and felt around the wood. I pried at a floorboard, and it lifted easily, revealing darkness below.

I pushed myself in and crashed onto the rough-hewn floor. Rifles tumbled down, nearly suffocating me. The floorboard snapped shut, leaving scanty light filtering through the cracks above.

I clawed out from under the rifles to an open space. My fingers wrapped around an ammo clip. There were more weapons down here than Doyle had ever received from Camp Fox. Clearly, Doyle either had other connections or had been preparing for war for a long time.

A door slammed open and boot steps pounded the floor above me.

“Doyle! No!” A man’s voice yelled, and the shuffling of boot steps increased.

They’d find me. Within a few seconds, I’d be dead. I no longer cared. I’d done what I had to do. Doyle would never hurt Clutch or Jase or anyone else ever again. I closed my eyes and the noise above me faded into oblivion.

****

I woke up.

It was pure dark in the hole. Not even a splinter of sunlight fought through the cracks.

I sat up, and every cell in my body hated me for it. Pushing through the pain, I felt around the wall until I found a light switch. With a click, fluorescent lights lit up a basement that went the length of the building above it. It was filled with racks and racks of rifles, surplus gear, food, and wooden crates. Not far from where I sat was a desk with what I guessed to be radio equipment.

All the time Tyler had searched for Doyle, he’d been quite literally under our noses.

Shaking my head, I pulled myself to my feet. My leg hurt worse.

I stood there for a moment.

I was still alive.

I wasn’t a zed.

I’m alive!

Hope infused my muscles and I climbed the ladder behind me. I listened for long minutes for voices or movement of any kind. When silence greeted me, I pushed the floorboard up and pulled myself onto the floor.

The clear night sky blanketed the room with enough glow that I could see Doyle’s mangled body still lying prone near the desk. I was surprised the Dogs hadn’t moved him unless…