100 Days in Deadland

by Rachel Aukes

  Tyler raised his pistol and shot the man in the leg.

  Smitty grunted and fell onto his knee.

  I reached down for a spear and killed an older zed bumping up against the back of the HEMTT.

  Smitty tried to get back to his feet, but Eddy came up from behind and clamped onto his head. Smitty cried out and tried to shake Eddy off, but the zed held on, biting his scalp over and over. Smitty fell forward, screaming, twisting back and forth, but fresh zeds were strong, and Eddy hadn’t been badly injured before he turned. The zed pinned the man and tore at his face. Smitty’s high-pitched screams drew the attention of zeds that had been heading toward the truck.

  Two more zeds joined in on Smitty’s legs.

  His screams abruptly stopped. A man could only take so much pain before the body shut down. Though, his heart must’ve still kept beating since the zeds continued to chew for several minutes before backing away, leaving behind a mangled corpse.

  Eddy was the first to reach the HEMTT. Jase thrust his spear through Eddy’s eye, and the zed that had been Jase’s friend fell.

  Tack and I took out the next two zeds.

  We waited. More zeds came, and we killed them.

  Smitty’s body quaked. It sat up. Its face and scalp were nearly gone, except for patches of skin and hair. For being a fresh zed, it took over a minute to climb to its feet with chewed up legs and restrained wrists. Once up, it hobbled right at the HEMTT.

  Tack gave Smitty final rest.

  “Let’s go,” Tyler said and thumped the roof of the cab. The HEMTT roared to life, and Griz drove, leaving nearly a hundred zeds slowly wandering toward us from the bowels of the camp.

  Tyler sat next to me, leaned forward, and put his head in his hands. Jase stared off into the distance, and Tack pretended to sleep. When we approached Doyle’s old camp, I stared at the gate. It didn’t make sense that they’d lock up after they cleared the place. Light glinted off the silo with the faded Iowa Hawkeye logo, and I narrowed my eyes. The silos were old. Nothing should be glinting off rusted steel and dull aluminum. Then I saw another glint.

  Binoculars.

  I nudged Tyler. He looked up, his features worn by exhaustion.

  “Doyle’s camp isn’t abandoned,” I said.

  He frowned. “I cleared it out myself. By the time I got there, the place was a graveyard. Doyle had already moved all his supplies out. Only three injured Dogs were left behind.”

  I shook my head. “So why is there someone up on the silo watching us?”

  When the truth hit, he leaned back and air whooshed from his lungs. “Jesus. Doyle’s been under our noses the whole time.”

  Chapter XXXIII

  Three days later

  “I believe we should take him off the respirator,” the doctor said. “We simply don’t have the resources to use equipment and medicine on terminal patients when it could be used on others.”

  I didn’t let go of Clutch’s hand. “You said he could still wake up.”

  “He could, and I’ve seen much worse cases wake up in the past. But given these primitive medical facilities—”

  “As long as there’s a chance, he stays on.” I came to my feet, kissed Clutch, and walked past the doctor. I paused at the door. “And if you take him off, I swear to God, I will crucify you in the middle of Chow Town for the zeds to tear you apart.”

  Without waiting for a response, I stepped outside the park office AKA town hall AKA makeshift hospital. Wind cooled my cheeks, though anger still simmered just below the surface. It took several deep breaths before I could focus on what needed done.

  My truck was parked just past the humming generators. I climbed in, gunned the engine, and put it into gear. With the window open, I rested an elbow on the door while I meandered through the park, savoring the fresh air, before finally heading into Tyler’s cabin, where all troops not sleeping or on guard-duty sat.

  It was the same as yesterday, and the day before that. Droning debates on how to attack Doyle with not nearly enough manpower and even less ammo. When it came down to it, there wasn’t a single feasible plan that didn’t run the risk of losing a life, and Tyler refused to sacrifice one more person for Doyle.

  People rotated through as they rolled on and off shift. I listened, offering up a comment here and there, until it was my time to stand guard at one of the park’s four entrances.

  The hours at the gate alongside Jase bled by.

  “I heard what the doctor said,” Jase said a couple hours into our shift.

  I leaned against a tree. “Yeah?”

  “I would’ve punched him for even suggesting pulling the plug.”

  “Believe me, I considered it.” I watched a bald eagle fly over.

  “Don’t give up on him,” Jase said.

  “Never.”

  ****

  The following morning, I kissed Clutch good-bye.

  “Be safe,” I whispered and left him.

  Numb, I returned to my cabin, shaved my head, loaded everything I needed into the truck, and drove away from the park. I had a plan to take out Doyle that involved the loss of only one life, though I had “borrowed” some of Tyler’s ammunition stash during the night to make it work.

  The Fox Hills Municipal Airport was only a couple miles northeast of town, not far from the river. I parked next to the only row of hangars, where seven old tin buildings of various faded colors stood side by side. I geared up with every weapon I owned and grabbed the crowbar.

  A decrepit, lone zed meandered down by the last hangar. I rapped gently on the first hangar. Nothing. I checked the door. Locked. I pried it open and looked inside. An old Cessna 172. It would work but the nose wheel would make it more difficult to land in a field. I checked the next three hangars. One was empty, one held a Beech Bonanza, and I stopped at the fourth. Perfect. Inside awaited a yellow taildragger. On its tail, the Piper Cub logo matched the tattoo on my forearm.

  The old hangar door pushed opened easily without power, and I pulled out the small plane. I returned to the truck and grabbed the duffel bag, admiring the way the airplane shone in the sunlight as I headed back toward it. Its owner had taken good care of the classic.

  The badly decomposed zed had finally made it within twenty feet of the Cub. I met it halfway, and finished it off with my crowbar. I opened the duffel, kneeled, pulled out my knife, but paused before I cut the zed open. After a moment, I stood, sheathed my knife, and lifted my chin. “No,” I said simply.

  I checked the Cub over, made sure the gas tanks were full, and loaded everything up. It took only two hand props to start, and I climbed inside, leaving the door and window open. I skipped the warm-up because engine noise would quickly draw attention, and a plane this small would never survive a collision with a zed. The wheels broke free from the runway at under fifty MPH before the first zeds emerged from the tree line.

  The wind made the flight bumpy. They’d hear me coming, but I didn’t care. If Doyle hadn’t fled his camp already, he would never abandon his camp.

  The silos of Doyle’s camp came into view eight minutes later. I descended as I approached. I flew right over the camp, looking down to see shaved heads looking up at me. They looked filthy and half-starved. Then I saw the only man without a shaved head. He waved his arms at his Dogs, and someone fired. Then a symphony of gunfire sounded around me.

  Where the hell had they gotten their hands on all that firepower? Camp Fox had cut them off, yet these guys were shooting like they had an unlimited supply of ammo. Nevertheless, I couldn’t turn back now. I started my one-eighty.

  Get ’em where I want ’em.

  I grabbed the duffel from the seat in front of me. I set the bag on my lap and opened it. As I neared the camp with nearly all of its occupants outside firing at me, I searched out Doyle. When I found him, I pulled the pin on the first grenade and dropped it. But the wind and velocity grabbed at the grenade, and it blew at least fifty feet away.

  “Dammit,” I muttered and quickly pulled the pins on
two more, dropping them.

  Dogs were running in different directions while continuing to send fully automatic gunfire my way. I tightly circled overhead, dropping grenades onto the camp.

  Sudden agony pierced my calf, sending searing pain every time I touched the rudder pedal, but I remained focused on my mission.

  The propane tanks in the camp exploded, and the blast rocked the small Cub.

  I righted the plane and continued to drop grenades until the bag was empty. Then I broke away and cut the engine to land silently in a hay field just on the other side of a band of trees, hiding me from the camp. I went to climb out of the plane and winced, grabbing my left calf. My hand came away bloody.

  I’d been shot.

  If they were using tainted bullets, the virus was now flowing in my veins.

  Not much time now. I had to hurry.

  I grimaced and tied a bandana around the wound and climbed out. I reached in for my rifle and started to limp my way into the trees and toward the camp.

  I figured the Dogs would’ve assumed this was a hit-and-run attack. Since no trucks broke down their gates, they were now safe.

  That’s where they’d be wrong.

  Chapter XXXIV

  What came next had to be up close and personal.

  I approached the camp from its backside. The zed pit was still there, full of rotting corpses. I held up my rifle, using the scope to scan the ground, then the silos. It still looked like an abandoned camp except for the smoke.

  Even I hadn’t given Doyle’s camp a second thought when we’d evacuated Camp Fox. We’d all been fools to not double check.

  As I limped closer, I could hear the voices. They sounded like an echo of the dying at Camp Fox. My heart clenched. I’d caused this. I knew not all these people were bad, some were simply misled. I inhaled deeply and moved forward. There was no other way.

  Sometimes, only killing would stop further killing.

  I’d planned to dip the grenades in zed goo and give them a taste of their own medicine. I’d believed they deserved the karma after the hundreds of innocents they’d slaughtered. But, at the last moment I realized I couldn’t go through with that. I refused to sink to their level. These men were getting off easy.

  Not all would be so lucky. The noise would attract zeds from Camp Fox, which was part of my plan. I was counting on them to take care of anyone I missed.

  No guard stood at the gate by the pit, and I cracked the gate open and peered inside. Through the dusty, smoky haze, I could see contorted bodies littering the ground. Some moved, many didn’t. I limped across the camp, quickly glancing from body to body. One man covered in blood reached out to me for help but I continued on.

  With my shaved head, no one seemed to notice me through the haze. They were all preoccupied. After I ran out of bodies to check, I gritted my teeth and headed toward Doyle’s office.

  I’d really hoped to finish him off the easy way.

  I didn’t even pause before throwing the steel door open.

  Inside, I found Doyle alone, sitting with one leg up on a desk, wrapping his bloodied forearm. When he looked up, his eyes widened, and he reached for his rifle propped behind his desk.

  “Don’t,” I ordered, pulling shut and dead bolting the door behind me.

  He leaned back and watched me. His faded yellow cap was stained and bloody cuts crisscrossed his soot-covered face. “Where’s Clutch? I figured he’d come to finish the job himself.”

  “He’s on his way,” I lied.

  Doyle seemed to relax. “So, you’re here to keep me company until he gets here, is that it?”

  “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 fuck 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 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…

  I crawled to the blown-out window and peered outside. Across the campground, zeds shambled, several with shaved heads. I ducked and glanced at the door standing wide open. It was only a matter of time before a zed discovered me.

  The gates were too far away. I’d never reach them with a bum leg. I’d seen no vehicles. The silos were halfway across the camp.

  A dark shape hovered near the door, and I pushed myself to my feet and pulled out my knife. As soon as the zed crossed the threshold, I shoved the blade through its temple. It collapsed, and I saw two more zeds turn toward me.

  I stepped over the zed and outside into plain sight. Something moaned to my right, and I swung, hitting a zed’s shaved head just as its arms reached for me. I twisted to my left, leapt onto the broken window ledge, and grabbed the edge of the roof. The knife tumbled from my grip and clinked as it bounced off the ground. With every ounce of strength, I pulled myself up. One of the fresher Dog zeds had nearly reached me by the time I pulled my feet up.

  Panting, exhausted, I dragged myself onto the roof and rolled onto my back, staring into the night sky, the one place incorruptible by zeds.