by Rachel Aukes
“It started as a matter of hygiene,” Doyle said while carving the ham. “It took me less than a week to start up the militia, but within two weeks, three men already had lice. Now, it’s become a badge of honor, and all new minutemen have their heads shaved before their training even begins.”
“But you didn’t shave your hair,” I said.
“No, I didn’t.” He took another bite.
As I chewed, I suspected their shaved heads had little to do with hygiene and everything to do with Doyle’s need for control. Not that I would ever say those words to his face, and I started to believe that Doyle had wanted Clutch to come to him all along.
Doyle handed plates to Tyler, who then passed them along to Griz and Tack.
“You keep this much extra food around?” Tyler asked.
“My men need to keep their strength up,” Doyle replied.
“No wonder why you’re going through rations at over twice the per capita rate at Camp Fox,” Tyler said. “Last week I let it slide because of the survivors you brought in. But, your ration list is even longer this week. Yet, you’ve brought no more survivors to the Camp in four days.”
“Just because we haven’t found any more survivors, doesn’t mean my men aren’t working hard.” Doyle handed a plate to Clutch, who then handed it to me.
I waited impatiently for Doyle to eat first. Could I trust the man enough to not poison us?
Hell, no.
“You need to start rationing better,” Tyler said. “Camp Fox doesn’t have enough supplies to keep this up. Our munitions are already under forty percent. With how many more zeds are projected to show up over the next few months, you need to conserve.”
Doyle handed a final plate to Clutch before taking one for himself. “Without supplies, we can’t clear out Fox Hills and make it habitable again.”
Tyler didn’t look happy. “I have three times as many men as you, yet you’re going through more supplies. You’re forcing my hand. I’m going to talk with Lendt about cutting your rations.”
Doyle gritted his teeth. “You don’t have the authority, Masden. Lendt runs the show, not you. And with Clutch joining up, we’re going to need more supplies so we can hit the zeds even harder.”
Clutch pounded a fist on the table “Godammit, Doyle. Get it through that thick skull of yours. I’m never hooking up with you and your crew of lowlifes.”
“I bet with the right persuasion, you would,” Doyle replied quietly.
Clutch looked at me. “Let’s go.” He came to his feet, grabbed his rifle, and headed straight for the door.
The scrape of silverware on plates turned to silence.
Still chewing, I jumped up, grabbed my rifle, and followed Clutch.
“Hold up.” Doyle shoved to his feet.
Clutch paused, his hand on the handle.
Doyle approached, his two Dogs alongside him. “Let me show you something.”
Tyler stood, throwing a worrisome glance in my direction. Griz and Tack didn’t look any happier.
Clutch stepped to the side, and Doyle walked outside, and we all followed him toward the northern edge of the camp. I kept eying Clutch, and I suspected that he knew, as I did, that Doyle’s attempt at pretenses had just vanished.
As we walked, the sickly sour reek of decay became more and more prevalent.
Clutch was scowling. “What is this about, Doyle?”
“Patience. You’ll see soon enough.”
A Dog wearing a surgical mask stood at a chain-link door built into the plywood-covered fence. Doyle wrapped a bandana around his face and motioned to the guard, who hastily unbolted the lock and held the door open. He tilted his head as his leader walked through.
Cautiously, I followed Clutch through the door, with Tyler, Griz, Tack, and Doyle’s two guards at my back.
I nearly threw up the food I’d just eaten. The stench was horrific. No wonder they’d had so many fires burning within the fences. They weren’t for preparing food and water. They were to cover the stench of death.
With my hand covering my nose and mouth, I edged toward the rim of the deep pit piled high with bodies. Hundreds of zeds were piled onto one another. None moved. All showed severe head trauma. Many had been burned, but the bodies on top were fresh, not yet burned. Half-rotted corpses sprawled upon one another, as though they’d been dumped there, dozens or more at a time.
The zeds on top looked like they’d been killed within the last couple days. What had been an older woman in a floral apron lay contorted, with one leg bent behind its back, staring lifelessly at me through gray glassy eyes.
Not far from her lay a toddler with a Tonka truck in a death-grip to its chest. She’d been young when she died, smaller than the ones I’d seen at the school.
The school.
I swayed, and Clutch leaned closer, his solid mass grounding me.
“Zeds rely on their sense of smell more. The stink seems to serve as a natural deterrent,” Doyle said. “And it helps mask the scents that humans live within the fence.”
I shook my head, unconvinced. The risk of disease seemed too high to have this much death near the camp.
“Why are you showing us this?” Clutch asked from my side.
“Zeds are an inconvenient bunch.” Doyle said. “My men have taken out nearly five hundred deadheads since the outbreak. But we’re seeing zeds passing through in greater numbers every week. My militia is the only thing standing between genocide and survival.”
“Your militia?” Tyler asked. “Careful, Doyle. You’re toeing the line.”
Doyle brushed him off with a wave of his hand.
Tyler frowned. “I’ve given you leeway since you’re men have been doing a good job at taking down zeds. But that doesn’t mean you’re not replaceable.”
Doyle’s face reddened. “You have no concept of the type of leadership that’s needed in times like these.”
Tyler took a step closer. “I have a better idea than you think.”
Clutch chortled. “I’m done with this bullshit. I’m taking Cash and we’re heading back to my farm.” He pointed at Doyle. “And from this moment on, your Dogs will leave us alone and stick with their job of killing zeds. Any act of aggression toward my people will result in more of your men being killed. Got it? I’m not fucking around, Doyle.”
Doyle stiffened. “You need to remember one thing: You don’t want to be my enemy.”
Chapter XI
“Are you threatening me?” Clutch demanded, stepping between Doyle and me.
“If I was threatening you,” Doyle said. “I’d have said how easy it would be to have you all shot and thrown into the pit to rot with these corpses and no one would be the wiser. I’m simply saying I’m someone you’d much rather have as a friend than as an enemy.”
I glanced at Clutch who looked as tense as I felt. Without looking down, I checked my rifle to make sure the safety was off. I realized now it had been a mistake coming here today. Doyle was a power-monger. And he clearly wanted Clutch. That Doyle wanted Clutch alive or dead, I hadn’t yet figured out.
“Watch it,” Tyler said. “You’re grossly overstepping your bounds.”
Doyle pointed at the pit full of zeds. “My men are protecting the Fox River valley. If we hadn’t destroyed these monsters, how many more lives would be lost by now? We are not asking for gratitude. All I ask for is a little support and regular supplies. You need to talk to Lendt and get him to grant my men full access to Camp Fox’s resources. Enough of this rationing bullshit.”
“No,” Tyler said. “From what I’ve seen lately, I’m going to advise Lendt that the militia should be reassigned under my command.”
Doyle pulled down his bandana. “And exactly what do you think you’ve seen, Masden?”
Tyler jutted out his chin. “I know you’re feeding me bullshit every week. For starters, do you think I wouldn’t notice that you have a hell of a lot more people on this camp than just the militia and their families?”
“It take
s a lot of support resources to run a successful militia.”
“If you haven’t been killing so many zeds and bringing in survivors, I would’ve shut you down a month ago,” Tyler snapped back.
Doyle watched Tyler carefully. “You should tread carefully, Captain. Times have changed. Nature will take its course, just as it always has. The weak will die, leaving only the strong. If we waste our efforts protecting the weak…” Doyle shot a gaze at me before turning back to Tyler, “then we will all fall to the zed horde. You are incorrect, Captain. As the leader of the militia, I have the right to do whatever it takes to ensure my men are the strong.”
“You’re fighting each other when we should all be fighting the zeds together,” Clutch growled out. “You two can work out your own shit. I’m out of here.”
With that he turned, shot me a look, and headed back to the door, with me at his side. The guard from earlier blocked the door.
“Out of my way, boy,” Clutch ordered.
The man looked nervously past our shoulders and didn’t move.
“Think it through, Clutch,” Doyle called out, sounded exasperated. “You’re trained to analyze every situation. You know joining with me is the only logical decision.”
Clutch’s back straightened and he turned around. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll realize your mistake when you find you’re unable to protect your own people.”
“Now that sounds an awful lot like a threat,” Clutch said.
“Enough, Doyle!” Tyler yelled out. “Sarge isn’t militia. He’s retired military and has been recalled to active duty as of thirty seconds ago,” Tyler said, his voice deeper and louder than before. “How he serves is Lendt’s decision. We’ll continue this discussion later at Lendt’s office.”
I heard it then. The hearty growl of a big engine. I searched until I found a green garbage truck barreling toward us. This truck was undamaged and didn’t have all the armor plating, but it was from the same garbage company. When it approached, I tensed.
It stopped, then turned and backed up toward the pit, the sound of beep-beep-beep echoing around us. The back lifted and dumped two more bodies onto the pile. I covered my nose and scanned the pile to make sure none were moving.
“You see, Captain,” Doyle said. “How many lives did we save today?”
Tyler didn’t reply.
Smugly smiling, Doyle turned to the man getting out of the truck. “I trust everything went well, Keith?”
The driver bowed to Doyle before speaking. “No problems.”
I gasped. “You.”
The man looked. His eyes widened, and he froze.
We’d found the fourth rapist. The one who got away.
Clutch and I raised our rifles at the same time. Doyle’s guards and Tyler and his men raised their rifles in response.
“Whoa.” Tyler held up one hand above his rifle. “What’s going on here?”
“Stand back,” Clutch nodded to the newcomer Keith, “That rat bastard is responsible for the rape, torture, and death of a young woman.”
“Do you have proof?” Tyler countered, though Tack and Griz both moved their rifles onto the Dogs.
“We both saw it,” I said. “She tried to escape and he was one of the four chasing her.”
“I didn’t do nothing!” Keith shrieked.
I looked at Clutch. His hard gaze told me everything I needed to know. I aimed my rifle and fired. Keith fell back, into the pit, a bullet hole through his forehead.
I expected to be riddled with bullets, but surprisingly, no one else fired even though everyone except Doyle held a rifle.
Doyle’s lips thinned. “You’ll be sorry for doing that, girl.”
Tyler leveled his rifle on Doyle. “We have laws, Doyle. I’m arresting her, and she’s coming with me to stand trial.”
“If you’d seen what he and his friends had done, Captain,” Clutch growled, “you’d have done the same thing.”
“Everyone, stand down,” Tyler commanded.
None of the Dogs lowered their weapons, and so no one else did.
“Doyle, your men are ordered to stand down,” Tyler said, reaching out to me, but Clutch grabbed me first and pulled me against him.
“That Dog got what he deserved,” Clutch said.
He took us a step back, and then froze.
“No!” I cried out when I saw Doyle’s pistol aimed point blank at Clutch’s temple. I turned to Tyler. “Clutch is innocent.”
“The only way anyone leaves here is if I allow it,” Doyle countered.
“You are disobeying a direct order, Doyle,” Tyler stated. “This camp is under the jurisdiction of Camp Fox. If you do not have your men stand down now, you will be stripped of rank and deemed outlaws. This is your last warning.”
Doyle snorted. “My camp, my rules. It’s you who need to lower your weapons.”
“If your men open fire,” Tyler said, keeping his rifle aimed at Doyle. “You’ll be the first one dead. Now, you are ordered to stand down!”
Clutch’s eyes were completely focused on me. “Let them go, Doyle,” he said, “and I’ll join your crew.”
I shook my head. Don’t do this.
After a lengthy pause, Doyle pulled away his pistol and sneered. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, Masden. You have five minutes to clear out of my camp.”
“Get her out of here, Captain,” Clutch ground out.
“The militia is done, Doyle,” Tyler said. “Effective immediately.”
Doyle belted out a laugh. “Camp Fox needs me. I don’t need you.” He sobered. “And you’re wasting your minutes.”
Tyler reached for me. “You don’t have to do this, Clutch,” I begged.
Clutch’s face hardened and he turned away, gritting his teeth while one of the Dogs disarmed him.
“Well, this worked out better than I expected,” Doyle said to one of his men.
Tyler grabbed my wrist. He pulled me through the doorway and through the camp, flanked by Griz and Tack.
Knots tightened in my gut with every step. Doyle had wanted Clutch. Defeated and under his control. And we’d let him do it. He’d expected Clutch to kill the rapist so he could imprison him. When I killed the man, Clutch had volunteered to stay, making Doyle’s job easy. Doyle had got exactly what he’d wanted. Clutch was no longer a threat, leaving those he cared about easy game for the Dogs.
With a surge, I twisted free and grabbed Tyler’s arms. “Clutch is a good man. He doesn’t belong here. Promise me you’ll try to get him out of here.”
Tyler watched me for a moment. Maybe he understood, maybe he saw something in my eyes. He gave a thin smile. “I’ll do what I can.”
When his words registered as truth in my mind, I nodded and inhaled. “Good.” I headed to the waiting Humvee, a thousand rescue scenarios running through my mind.
The only problem was, without Clutch, I couldn’t do anything, let alone pull off a rescue.
Before I climbed into the Humvee, I looked back one last time to find Clutch, but only saw Doyle watching us smugly, promising retribution. Clutch had sacrificed himself for our freedom. And it was a waste, because Doyle wouldn’t stop until we were all dead.
VIOLENCE: The Seventh Circle of Hell
Chapter XII
I remembered the feeling of plastic restraints cutting into my wrists from my first night with Clutch. I understood why Tyler felt like he had to arrest me, and before the outbreak I would’ve agreed with him.
But the world had changed.
I felt even edgier without the weight of my gear and weapons. Being defenseless in the middle of zed country, with Clutch undergoing who knows what back at Doyle’s camp, unnerved me.
I sighed. “You didn’t need to tie me up. I’m not a danger to you.”
Tyler turned from the window to me, looking none too pleased. “You killed an unarmed man today.”
If he only knew the facts. “And I don’t regret it.”
Yes, I’d sh
ot that criminal knowing that shit would hit the fan as a result. The man was dead, anyway. I’d simply fired before Clutch did. He was going to pull the trigger. I’d seen it in his eyes, just like he’d seen it in the eyes of the Dog he shot back at Doyle’s gate. So, I killed the man to keep Clutch safe. I just hadn’t figured that Clutch would be a victim in the ensuing cluster fuck. When I saw him again—and I promised myself I would—I was going to wring his freaking neck for playing hero.
Nick shot me a tender glance before returning his focus to driving, and I could feel eyes on my back from Griz and Tack behind me as well. None of them had seen what the Dogs had done to that poor girl. Still, being this close to the militia camp, they must’ve seen things or heard stories when it came to Doyle and his cronies.
“You know Doyle,” I said. “He never would’ve let you take one of his Dogs into custody to stand trial. Face it, the only thing that kept that rapist from getting off free was my bullet.”
Tyler narrowed his gaze. “How can you be so cavalier about taking a man’s life?”
“You didn’t see what they did,” I replied quietly, remembering her broken body and hollow eyes.
He was quiet for a moment. “In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many of us left. We have to keep faith in justice. We’ll never make it if we each take the law into our own hands.”
I chortled. “We’ll never make it if we don’t take the law into our own hands.” It was futile trying to convince Tyler that the world was no longer wrapped with a comforting blanket of rules and traditions. We could no longer afford the luxury of hiding accountability beneath layers of red tape. Doyle wouldn’t follow the rules. Neither could we. In a matter of days, we’d toppled from thinking we were wolves to realizing that we were only rabbits.
I broke eye contact to look out the window. We were approaching tall chain-link fences, topped with razor wire, surrounding what looked to be at least ten acres of a National Guard base.
Camp Fox.