100 Days in Deadland (32 page)

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 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…

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.

I saw Clutch, wearing one of his rare smiles, reaching out to me for a dance. Standing not far from us were my parents, holding each other’s hands and watching us with warm love in their eyes. Jase and Mutt were playing fetch. He looked up and laughed.

It was a good dream.

A soothing peace came over me, even while the zeds moaned and shuffled below.

I’d survived hell. Maybe there was such a thing as hope after all.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, my body relaxed, and I smiled up at the night sky full of stars.

The saga continues

DEADLAND’S HARVEST

The seven deadly sins
, with a shambling twist

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The Deadland Saga

100 Days in Deadland

Deadland’s Harvest

Deadland Rising
(Late 2014)

100 Days in Deadland
is set in near-future Midwest America decimated by a zombie plague. In this truly unique story, our heroine, Cash, and her guide, Clutch, are forced on a journey through hell that echoes the one Dante and Virgil took in the “Inferno,” the world-renowned first poem in Dante Alighieri’s epic medieval tale, 
The Divine Comedy
. In both tales, there are nine circles of hell that must be survived, and the thirty-four cantos of the “Inferno” are reflected in the thirty-four chapters of
100 Days in Deadland
...reimagined zombie apocalypse style.

100 Days in Deadland
  follows the pair of survivors, caught up in the sudden rush of the zombie plague, which begins on Thursday, the day before Good Friday. Once thrown into Dante’s “Inferno”, Cash and Clutch come across the three types of sinful beasts: the self-indulgent (zombies), the violent (survivors), and the malicious (Doyle, who represents Satan).

In each circle of hell, Cash and Clutch witness the same sins that Dante and Virgil had many centuries ago. However, where Dante often stood on the sidelines, Cash is thrown deep into the action.
As Cash progresses through each circle of hell, she is changed by her environment. And, like Dante, Cash survives each circle by holding onto hope, having faith in her guide (Clutch, who represents the poet Virgil), and demonstrating unrelenting perseverance.

Like Dante’s “Inferno,”
 
100 Days in Deadland
 is a story of the human condition, showing how our experiences change us. You will find violence, heartbreak, and tragedy. However, you will also find perseverance, compassion, and hope. Dante’s “Inferno” also lays out four key components of every apocalyptical (and even every zombie) story: the end of the world as we know it, cause and effect of the human condition, perseverance, and—as shown in the poem’s last line—enduring hope:

“It was from there that we emerged, to see—once more—the stars.”

Symbolism to the “Inferno” is lush on nearly every page of
100 Days in Deadland
, from the obvious call-out, “Abandon all hope all ye who enter here” in chapter three to the subtlest hints, such as Cash shooting awake to the sound of a “thunderous” blast at the beginning of chapter four. The weather, such as the violent winds and storms starting in Lust (when Cash and Clutch come across the victim with pale lips at the corn bin, i.e. the “carnal tower”), echoes both the atmosphere of the “Inferno.”

In chapter six, Cash ends up in a cafeteria full of hungry zeds, not much different from the sixth canto, which held tortured souls cursed with “insatiable hunger.” In chapter seven, when Cash and Clutch arrive at the Pierson farm, they find money left on the table, a modest reminder of the Dante’s message that money can’t buy peace.

Doyle’s camp represents Dis, the evil city in the Inferno that holds the darkest secrets and the most violent and treacherous sinners. Its true name is implied in chapter eight by the sign reading
Doyle’s Iowa Surplus
, where only the capital letters are easily recognizable in the faded paint, foreshadowing that the camp will play a pivotal role in the final circle of Hell, where Cash must defeat Doyle.

In addition to Cash taking a journey parallel to that which Dante took, hundreds more echoes of Dante’s “Inferno” can be found in
100 Days in Deadland
. But, the story you just read is not and never was meant to be a replacement for Dante’s “Inferno.” It is not designed to help you get an “A” in English if you read this novel instead of Dante Alighieri’s epic poem. This story was meant to be an enjoyable read, which I hope is exactly how you found it.