100 Days in Deadland (20 page)

Clutch stepped through the doorway. “What the fuck is going on inside that silo?”

“It’s our smokehouse,” Doyle replied calmly.

“Not that one,” Tyler said. “I heard it, too. It sounded like a person in the middle silo.”

Doyle lifted his hands. “It’s not what you think, gentlemen. Any survivor who wants to join the militia must go through survival training. I need to know that every man on my team will obey me, no matter what the order. No man becomes a minuteman until every man on my team knows he can count on him with his life. What’s going on within that silo is nothing more than a hazing ritual every man undergoes when he’s ready to take on the title of ‘minuteman’.”

“Then show us,” Clutch demanded.

Doyle smiled smugly. “I’d be happy to, but first, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

No one moved.

“You have my word,” Doyle added. “Now, come and have a seat. I’ve asked for some leftovers to be brought in for us.” Doyle motioned us to a table. The room, with one large bay window, offered a generous view of much of the camp. In the corner sat a large wood desk covered in stacks of papers and books.

We moved cautiously inside.

Doyle laughed silently, as though he found something funny. “You know, Clutch, most folks wouldn’t have the balls to rob me like you did.”

“I figured your store was fair game,” Clutch replied. “How was I to know you survived the outbreak?”

Doyle held up a hand. “Fair enough. But you killed five of my men. You’re lucky I didn’t repay kind with kind.”

“Seven. The two men you sent today are dead,” Tyler said, and Doyle’s face tightened. Tyler continued. “While their deaths are tragic, I’m not arresting anyone. Attacking civilians stops now, Doyle. If anything like this happens again, I’m putting you in the brig and having your militia reassigned to Camp Fox.”

Doyle’s lips tightened. “Most of my men are simple farmers. The stress of the outbreak may have proved too much for some to handle. But I don’t have anyone with military training here to help. If Clutch joined my team, I could ensure there’d be no more…misunderstandings.”

Clutch and Tyler chortled in stereo. I frowned. Where the hell had Doyle gotten the idea that Clutch would join the Dogs? Hell, he’d been attacking us for the past week, and now he thought Clutch would sign up with a smile. He should hate Clutch for killing his men. It was almost as if he’d wanted Clutch to come to him all along. But why?

“You don’t have the authority,” Tyler said. “This man is Army and has been reactivated. He goes to Camp Fox under
Lendt’s command.”

I could feel the tension roiling off Clutch, yet he sat there, saying nothing.

“Bah!” Doyle waved a hand through the air. “It’d be a waste for Clutch to join Fox, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes. “How would you know?”

Doyle blew him off. “Besides, the National Guard has never been anything but wet nurses. The militia is the people’s real protector. I’ve seen the future, and it ain’t pretty. The only way to protect people is to be hard. That Clutch took out two of my men today proves it all the more. Clutch would be a good fit here
.
”

“Excuse me? You don’t have the authority.” Tyler came to his feet, and the two soldiers with him stepped closer.

Doyle ignored him. “Really, Clutch, tell me. Do you think you can hold down your farm against the zeds that will be pouring out from every major city with only a kid and a wetback?”

My jaw dropped, and I stood. “Wetback?”

Clutch grabbed my arm, whether to protect me or keep me from going for Doyle’s throat, I didn’t know. He glared. “Watch it, Doyle.”

I put a hand on my hip. “My mother was Puerto Rican, and my dad was Irish. I was born here, just like my parents, and my parents’ parents before them. That makes me as American as anyone in this room, so fuck off.”

Doyle smirked. “No wonder you’re keeping this one for yourself. She’s feisty. She’d make good bait.”

I went to raise my rifle, but Clutch latched onto my forearm. I tried to rein back my temper, failing miserably.

“Fucking racist,” Griz gritted out from behind me.

I nodded.

“Enough!” Tyler slammed a fist on the table. “This ends now, Doyle. You hear me? No more games. We’re all in this shithole together and need to be working together.”

A door off to our side opened, and I swung my rifle around.

The three women carrying platters entered the room and froze, eyes wide.

Doyle motioned to the women. “Come in, come in.” He sat down as though everything was dandy. “Have a seat. Oh, and Captain, I’ve already sent a plate out to your driver.”

“Thank you.” Tyler eyed the room cautiously as he and the soldiers with him pulled out wood chairs. He waited until Clutch and I took our seats before taking his own chair. I propped my rifle against the table next to Clutch’s, keeping it in easy reach.

As Doyle poured the wine, I realized that all we were missing was Jesus because it sure as hell felt like we’d been brought in for the Last Supper.

Even with the heavy atmosphere, my mouth watered and my stomach growled as the aroma of roasted ham wafted through the air. Clutch hadn’t yet let us butcher a hog or cow, not until we worked the kinks out of the smokehouse. When the older woman set down the tray full of meat, I made a mental note to finish the smokehouse tomorrow.

“It looks delicious. Thank you, my dear,” Doyle said, briefly holding the woman’s hand.

She smiled and kissed his forehead before leaving the room.

On the second platter lay a round loaf of bread and spring greens. “Mm, I missed bread,” I murmured and craved to dig in, but I didn’t trust Doyle. I watched him, and he smirked like he enjoyed having that kind of power over me. He took his time tearing off a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth. After he swallowed, I pulled off a piece. As I took my first bite, I found Clutch watching me with a hint of a smile.

I savored the first taste of bread in two months. It had a heavy, whole-grain taste, making it easy to eat without any butter. I tore off a piece for him. “I like carbs.”

Before leaving, two of the women bowed to Doyle as though he was a god. There seemed to be a lot of that going on around here. I watched the two Dogs standing behind their leader, not eating. After swallowing, I turned to Doyle. “Why do you make your guys shave their heads?”

“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 your 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.”

“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 takes 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.