Deadland Rising (part 3 of the Deadland Saga)

Uncertainty (Chapter 3)

"Wolves!" I yelled and yanked Jase and Hali to their feet. "To the trucks!"

We had camped next to the Humvees for easy escape, so we had only a few feet between safety and the pack. However, three feet looked like a mile when countless reflective eyes were racing toward us.

Ever protective of his grandson, Frost already had Benji safely inside the Humvee with a coyote's head and the words Charlie Coyote painted on the hood and doors.

Deb and Vicki raced to the other Humvee-the one with Betty Bravo, the pinup girl Griz had painted on it-while Marco and Griz fired rounds into the dark, their gunshots echoed by yelps.

When I opened the door of Humvee Charlie, I paused to make sure Jase and Clutch were right behind me, but I found myself shoved onto the backseat, with Clutch landing on top of me and slamming the door closed.

"They're safe," he said as I crawled out from under him. I crawled across the backseat and pressed the massive Great Dane to the floor so I had a place to sit. I looked to the other Humvee to see Jase cramming Hali into the front passenger's seat.

Vicki stood at the door of the other vehicle and fired off shots while Deb climbed inside. When Marco reached Vicki, they quickly disappeared inside, and their doors shut. The last one standing, Griz laid down a burst of automatic fire while Frost pulled Benji onto his lap.

Not far from our vehicle, a wolf tore into one of Benji's teddy bears. The boy gasped and wagged a finger at the animal. "Bad dog," he scolded, his voice cracking.

Diesel cringed at the words, and I rubbed the dog's back. Benji bit back tears. Frost pulled his grandson closer, and Benji tucked his head into the older man's shoulder.

There had to be hundreds of animals in the store. They leapt over their fallen, trying to reach us. Griz stopped firing, jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed the door just as a wolf smashed against the metal and glass with a sharp cry. A wet mark of saliva remained on the glass where the wolf had slid off. Another jumped up against my window, startling me.

Diesel growled at the wolves and dogs outside our Humvees, and I rubbed the dog's fur. "It's okay. They can't us get in here."

Griz started the engine and shifted the truck into gear, which only seemed to drive the pack into more of a fury. The dogs pounded against the sides like hail on glass. Many were sickly and couldn't jump high. Some could, and their looks of determination scared the hell out of me. Some attacked the dogs nearest to them in their frenzy to get closer.

Griz pulled ahead slowly, keeping an eye on the Humvee next to us. One large but skinny dog managed to leap onto the hood, and it stood there, watching us with bloodshot eyes through the windshield. Its mouth frothed as it bared its teeth. I could hear its growl through the glass.

Griz stepped on the gas pedal, throwing the dog against the windshield, and then slammed the brakes. The dog slid off the hood, trying to claw and scratch to stay on but to no avail.

"Bad meat," I muttered.

"What?" Clutch asked.

I nodded toward the dog growling at us. "They remind me of the catfish. After eating infected meat, they're all getting sick and going crazy, like rabid animals."

Clutch watched the dog and then tilted his head. "Zeds were probably the only food they could find after the zeds killed everything else."

"Getting bit by one of these would be a bad deal," Griz added, pulling in behind the other Humvee.

"The zeds are easy prey, and they obviously have no trouble eating them. I wonder why they're trying to go for us," I said.

"I'd bet we taste better," Griz replied.