We Are The Plague: Dext of the Dead, Book 1

by Steve Kuhn

  As it stands, there are about fourteen men that trade off guard detail on the catwalk, and Junior has that shit on lockdown. He knows how they move, when they change shifts, and the order in which they rotate.

  Kylee was on the road for two days with a contingent of scavengers. They ran a lottery, but only took two men in the box truck. Everyone returned safely, thankfully. She was able to surmise that there are a total of thirty on the road teams and they take roughly fifteen per trip. Next time they go out, she will get to stay back at the Haven.

  I met Cutty this morning. He’s figured out where the keys to the vehicles are kept and also where the weapons are locked up. It’s been nice having Bizzy and Rebecca on the team. They’ve been able to sway some of the fence-sitters by batting their eyelashes and such.

  Kylee sat us down at camp and explained that the next time the road crew goes out, we’ll take the opportunity to strike since their numbers will be virtually halved. We were waiting on Cutty and Junior to join us to sort out the plan, but we were interrupted.

  A terrible smell wafted over the entire Haven. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one trying not to gag. It was the thick stench of the dead. The guard detail popped off only a few rounds before the signal for lights-out was spread to everyone. Everyone put out their fires and fell silent. I shot up the catwalk to Junior’s post, but as I reached the top of the ladder, he grabbed me by my shirt and put his finger to his lips. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates. I gave him a look like, “What?” and he gestured for me to slowly peek over the wall.

  Shit. The biggest herd I’ve ever seen was migrating past the Haven about a football field away. Christ, it had to be over three hundred of them! We all just hunkered down and waited. It took them nearly a half hour to pass by, and it was another hour more before we were able to reconvene and relight the fires.

  Wyatt had disappeared into Bizzy’s tent, yet again, so Rebecca had to go fetch them. I swear those two are up to something. I figure Bizzy to be around seventeen, so it’s understandable that they’re finding one another’s company enjoyable, but it’s becoming annoying. I guess we’re lucky that Bizzy’s father is still around to make sure Wyatt doesn’t overstep his bounds. By the time they rejoined us, Cutty and Junior were waiting as well.

  It was all business. Cutty said, “Trey goin’ out to lead a group on da next trip. He’s a’ight. Says he ain’t takin’ no women cuz he don’t play dat mess. Only reason he takin’ some men in the truck is cuz Tyla makin’ ‘em. He cool, though. I ain’t tol’ him what we doin’, but he prolly worth keepin’ aroun’ afta it’s all done. Could help us keep da peace an’ all dat.”

  Wyatt nodded his agreement and added that Trey had overruled Gunner on allowing him to go get Cutty’s blades for the fight with Cholo. Kylee accepted it. She said, “Fine, I’ll trust your judgment on that. That leaves Nicko, Devin, Gunner, and Tyler. They gotta go.” She addressed Rebecca, “What have you got on our numbers in the camp?”

  Rebecca answered her, saying, “Twenty-five men willing to fight, but they’re unarmed, obviously. That’s not really the issue, though. As much as people around here hate the lottery and the Council, they’re scared shitless about not being able to survive without them once it’s done. Wyatt and Dext… Bizzy, too—we’ve all assured them that once it’s over, we’ll be able to regroup and come up with a better plan for scavenging. Most have agreed to trust us thanks to Cutty’s performance in the Arena.”

  Bizzy cut her off with, “Look, it’s not gonna work the way we had hoped. As soon as we start sneaking them weapons or whatever, someone out there is going to sell us out. There’s too many pussies out here for a full-on takeover. They’re survivors, guys, not revolutionists.”

  Rebecca glared at Bizzy, but I think she was right not to sugarcoat it.

  Everyone sort of exhaled and gathered their thoughts. I suggested we just do it ourselves. I explained that with Trey and his group gone for a day, we only had to worry about four Council members, all of which are in the manor at night. As for other issues, there’re seven guards on the catwalk, but with Junior acting as one, we’re down to six actual threats on the catwalk with fifteen sporadic guys throughout the camp. The camp guys would be unarmed at the time thanks to the ‘no weapons in camp’ rule.

  Junior corrected me, saying, “Sev’n… sev’n guards, not six. I ain’t gon’ be up on the catwalk tha night we do this thing. Y’all gon’ need ma rifle watchin’ yer backs. That means seven men on patrol. Them boys can shoot, too, so we can’t bugger this up.”

  Kylee snapped at everyone, “Enough… Just shut it, all of you. Fine. Listen up, and don’t speak unless I ask for your input. Heard?” Her tone was stern enough that we all knew she wasn’t fuckin’ around. She went into some sort of command mode like something snapped inside her head.

  We all just listened.

  She laid it out. “We have two days, three tops. Cutty, I need you to find a way to get my rifle and the last of my suppressed ammo to the roof of the manor. I’ll also need Wyatt’s rifle and Dext’s pistols. Rebecca knows the house even better than you do. She can help. Bizzy, find a way to get Wyatt’s rifle and Dext’s pistols from the manor to this spot. Can you sort that?”

  Cutty and Rebecca looked at one another and nodded. Bizzy grinned at the opportunity to get involved.

  “I’ll also need you to hide the keys to the fleet fence the day of the mission,” Kylee added as she blew a stray hair from her face.

  That struck me as odd… She called it a mission. She hadn’t done that before, and it sounded fuckin’ weird. She was just sickly focused at the moment, had to be. I was just thankful I wasn’t making any decisions.

  Cutty answered with, “Yup. I can do dat.”

  Kylee continued, “That will ensure no one else can get to any weapons. Junior, you’re on my rifle. Can you dump the guards on the catwalk?”

  Junior’s eyes boggled at the prospect of using Kylee’s rifle. He’d had a raging boner for that rifle since he first saw it. He stared at her blankly before asking, “Um… dump? Whassat?”

  Kylee rolled her eyes and said, “Kill. Can you kill the guards on the catwalk? You know their routes. If you wait until they are far enough apart, can you dump them?”

  Junior thought for a moment and answered her, saying, “I can do five—one on each corner and the fifth by the pussbag pen. Last two walk together all the time. Ain’t gon’ be able to get ‘em without causin’ a fuss.”

  Kylee nodded, not completely satisfied. “Fair enough. Thank you for your honesty. I’m going to assume you won’t get trigger-shy about killing these men, yes? You do realize this is for the survival of everyone?”

  Junior looked insulted and snapped, “I heard Becca that night with Cholo. You didn’t. Ain’t gon’ be no issue wit’ me.” He gave an encouraging nod at Rebecca, to which she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement.

  Kylee then said, “The last two are Cutty’s then.” Cutty began to protest and remind us that he does things on his own terms, saying, “I done tol’ y’all… don’t be just volunteerin’ me fo’—”

  “Cutty. Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth!” Kylee snapped hard.

  Cutty’s words caught in his throat, and he sat there speechless. “This is my show at the moment. We are a team. At this particular moment, I am the team captain. Is that understood, Cutty?”

  Cutty tried to play it off like, “Um, yeah, damn… ma bad… just sayin’.”

  Then Kylee addressed us all. “When this is over, we’ll go back to a Democracy. Until then, I’m the only one qualified for this. Do your jobs—period.”

  “Dext and Wyatt, you will run the signals. When you see the five guards drop, you run across the camp to the manor, knock on the door, and ask for Cutty. Tell whoever answers that Rebecca wants to have a word with him immediately. Make it sound urgent. Cutty, you will need to be armed. Leave the door open behind you. When the last two catwalk sentries are dispatched, you will rendezvous
with Wyatt and Dext right here.” She pointed at the dirt and trodden grass at their feet. “Dext and Wyatt, you grab your weapons and secure the front room of the manor just like I showed you back at the house.”

  At that point, I was thinking that it all sounded logical, but we weren’t a cohesive unit. It was like Kylee just assumed we did this shit all the time. I asked the obvious question. “What about the four heavily armed Council members in the manor?”

  Kylee answered somewhat impatiently, “I got it covered. You just keep that front room clear and secure. We’ll do a dry run tomorrow just for timing and to work out any bugs. Rebecca, make me a map of the manor before you go to sleep tonight. I want to know what the room layouts look like as well as doors, windows, and any other features. I need to see the manor before I go in.”

  Rebecca replied, “No problem. How you gettin’ in there, anyway?”

  Kylee winked and gestured to the manor up on the hill. “I’m going to walk through the front door. We’ll meet in the morning to rehearse. You have your orders.”

  Wyatt and I have been sitting here with Junior, reading the plan over and over again. If Junior misses a shot, we’re fucked. If Cutty can’t find a way to handle the two stragglers, we’re fucked. If Bizzy gets caught with our weapons, we’re fucked. And if Kylee gets into trouble in the manor by herself… she’s going to die. I hate this plan. I hate everything about it, but it’s not about me anymore, I suppose.

  Entry 41

  Bizzy managed to get Wyatt’s rifle and my pistols smuggled out of the manor in no time. Her idea of hiding them in the laundry was pretty sweet, I gotta admit. She even pulled off a couple of extra mags for us just in case.

  Rebecca also confirmed that Kylee’s rifle did indeed make it to the roof along with the suppressed ammo. Hearing both of those things had happened was a huge relief.

  Trey was getting geared up to leave with his men. Once they were gone with a few vehicles and their weapons, I was confident the keys would go missing as planned. I was still a little sick over the plan as a whole, but things were coming together. The rehearsals we had done went well after a few tries and more than a few slaps across the back of my head by Kylee. We were like clockwork all the way up to the manor.

  I had it in my head like, Left corner, wait for a shot, run… stink pen, wait for a shot, run… right corner, wait for a shot, run to camp, wait for Wyatt… run to manor, glance right (make sure Kylee is hidden in position to enter), knock and fake emergency… run to camp, get guns, wait for Cutty, run to manor, hold front room secure.

  Confidence was pretty high. Trey’s group left, and darkness fell. I posted up on the left corner as planned, gave Junior a sign that I was ready, and waited… and waited… and waited.

  Nothing.

  I looked to the manor and then up to the dude on lookout and finally figured it out. This asshole was leaning on the fence, and the way he was hunched over wasn’t presenting a very good shot for Junior. I called up to him, “Yo! Got a light?”

  He turned around and stuck his hand in his pocket. Hiss! Fuck yeah, man! It was a good-ass shot, too… center mass. He slumped to the ground without another sound. I counted to five and booked it to the section of the catwalk with the stink pen on the other side.

  This idiot was pissing through a hole in the fence down into the stink pen just to rile them up. I gave Junior the wave. Hiss! I didn’t even see where he was hit, but I assume it was a head shot. The guy fell forward and over the rail right into the pen. I could hear the growls and gurgles from the biters on the other side, but he must’ve been dead before he landed. I never heard a peep outta him. This was working, though… It was actually working!

  I jetted over to the right corner… Last guy for me. Then it was Wyatt’s turn.

  I gave the wave, but the guy looked down at me and said, “Hey! Fuck off outta here, shit-sack. Ain’t nothin’ for you to see.”

  Raising my hands defensively, I said, “Oh shit, sorry man… Just curious, I guess. I’ll take off.”

  I turned my back to him and started walking towards camp. Hiss! I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I broke into a run towards our fire.

  It didn’t take long for Wyatt to come running my way. As he approached, he harshly whispered, “C’mon! We gotta be quick. The last two guys are headed towards the front corner. If they see the dead one, we’re in deep shit.”

  That was all I needed to hear. I left Wyatt in the dust and sprinted to the manor. I pounded on the door, and by the time Nicko answered, Wyatt had nearly caught up. Fuck! I forgot to check for Kylee.

  He asked us, “What’s up, fellas? Kinda late, eh?”

  I made up some bullshit. “Hey, can you grab Cutty for us real quick? Rebecca’s really upset—said she woke up from a nightmare about Cutty’s sister. It’s family shit or whatever.”

  Nicko rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, “Oh for fuck’s sake… Really?” He huffed and told us to wait there before slamming the door.

  I took that moment to glance over, and I was able to see Kylee loitering at the corner of the building. I can’t tell you how glad I was that I didn’t fuck that up after all.

  Cutty opened the door, and I gave him a wink and a nod before raising my voice. I reiterated the story about Rebecca just in case the Council was within earshot. I whispered, “Good luck,” and patted him on the back as he made off for the fence. He left the door closed, but not latched.

  Wyatt and I dashed back to our camp and waited for Cutty. It didn’t take more than five minutes for us to see him come lumbering across the grass towards us in a clumsy jog. His machetes were hanging from his hips, and they were bloodied. He nodded to us, but was too out of breath to say anything more. Didn’t matter… We got the point. Halfway through, and now it was Kylee’s turn. We pulled our guns out from under the tent and started towards the manor.

  As we approached, I looked up and saw Junior pop his head over the side and give us a thumbs-up. The silly bastard looked like he was celebrating already. He disappeared once again, no doubt headed for the rear of the manor to drop down off the roof.

  Wyatt and I flanked the door with Cutty. I reached over to ease it open. We pizza-moved the doorway like Kylee had taught us and entered cautiously. Nicko was off to the side of the room with his throat cut from ear to ear. He bled out. There was a gigantic stab wound in his forehead that pierced his skull, and it was safe to assume that it was a precaution against him turning. Kylee was in beast mode!

  We moved up to the doorway that led to the hall, and Wyatt posted up to long-cover it. We held the room.

  There was some commotion and bumping on the floor above us and then silence. We waited and listened. Wyatt called out to an unseen figure further down the hall, “You good?”

  I could hear Kylee answer him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

  When she reached Wyatt at the door, I saw that she had Tyler bound. His hands were tied behind his back with a length of rope, and he was gagged. Kylee told us all, “Excellent work, but we’re not done yet. C’mon, let’s get outside.”

  It happened so fast. They always say that, ya know? But it’s true. We broke out onto the front lawn of the manor with Tyler in tow. Junior came around the corner, having made his way down, and gave us a wave. He walked towards us, saying, “Well I’ll be a sum bitch! We actually mana—”

  Boom!

  It came outta nowhere, man.

  Junior’s stomach exploded in a mass of red splatter, and he fell forward as his legs gave out beneath him. He landed in his own gore, twitching and flopping from nerve responses. He was dead on the spot. Gunner stood behind him, shotgun smoking.

  Wyatt and I spun to raise our weapons as Gunner dropped the shotgun to the ground and drew two pistols in one practiced motion. I closed my eyes and unloaded with both barrels. Wyatt’s rifle was empty as well by the time I opened my eyes.

  Gunner lay there behind Junior with more holes than I bothered to count. I just couldn’t believe
it. Junior was dead right there in front of us.

  The gunfire drew the crowd from the camp, but I couldn’t care less. Word spread quickly about the Council being dead… and Junior too. Most people had perceived Junior as just another Haven asshole because he walked the guard post… and they cheered. That hurt the most. They cheered over the body of our man. There was no way to explain at that moment how he was monumentally important to their freedom from the Council, and there were no words for how we felt.

  Kylee had been able to kill Nicko and Devin, but Gunner ran, and we didn’t have time to adapt. The mob dragged Tyler off into the distance, and I could hear his screams as they tossed him over the fence and into the pen to be devoured alive… but none of us left Junior.

  I’ll never forget how mixed my emotions were at that moment. I was elated to be alive… I was still terrified and shaking over the shootout… I was… I am so sad to have lost my friend. And I was sick and tired of this whole epidemic as I reloaded and put another round into Junior’s head so he didn’t turn.

  I’m worried about tomorrow when Trey gets back with his men.

  But I’m more worried about Wyatt. The last thing he said to Kylee before storming off was, “This is my fault…”

  Entry 42

  The morning was spent cleaning up last night’s mess. It’s a good thing we started early, too, because the first guy Junior took out hadn’t turned yet. It was the only kill that wasn’t a headshot. We didn’t even bother destroying his brain. Fuck him. We just tossed him over the side. Kylee dispatched all the pen deadheads, so it seems Tyler was their ‘Last Supper.’

  We buried Junior in the center of the Arena. No one outside of our group attended his service. Cutty said a few words, but it was missing the spark. I kept waiting for Junior to pipe up and say something funny or inappropriate, but it didn’t happen. We laid a can of dip and his old spit bottle on his grave as well as his old, flannel shirt. I called Cutty a dumb-shit, but no one laughed.

  None of us had seen Wyatt all morning, either. He didn’t help with the cleanup, nor did he bother to show up and help us assure the fifteen road-crew guys who didn’t go with Trey that we were only interested in a more humane and proper treatment of the other survivors. Very few balked at the idea. I had expected more resistance, but it seems that the process of survival is much less important as long as the end result is the same.