100 Days in Deadland (part 1 of the Deadland Saga)

Violence (Chapter 12)

VIOLENCE: The Seventh Circle of Hell

Chapter XII

I remembered the feeling of plastic restraints cutting into my wrists from my first night with Clutch. I understood why Tyler felt like he had to arrest me, and before the outbreak I would’ve agreed with him.

But the world had changed.

I felt even edgier without the weight of my gear and weapons. Being defenseless in the middle of zed country, with Clutch undergoing who knows what back at Doyle’s camp, unnerved me.

I sighed. “You didn’t need to tie me up. I’m not a danger to you.”

Tyler turned from the window to me, looking none too pleased. “You killed an unarmed man today.”

If he only knew the facts. “And I don’t regret it.”

Yes, I’d shot that criminal knowing that shit would hit the fan as a result. The man was dead, anyway. I’d simply fired before Clutch did. He was going to pull the trigger. I’d seen it in his eyes, just like he’d seen it in the eyes of the Dog he shot back at Doyle’s gate. So, I killed the man to keep Clutch safe. I just hadn’t figured that Clutch would be a victim in the ensuing mess. When I saw him again—and I promised myself I would—I was going to wring his freaking neck for playing hero.

Nick shot me a tender glance before returning his focus to driving, and I could feel eyes on my back from Griz and Tack behind me as well. None of them had seen what the Dogs had done to that poor girl. Still, being this close to the militia camp, they must’ve seen things or heard stories when it came to Doyle and his cronies.

 “You know Doyle,” I said. “He never would’ve let you take one of his Dogs into custody to stand trial. Face it, the only thing that kept that rapist from getting off free was my bullet.”

Tyler narrowed his gaze. “How can you be so cavalier about taking a man’s life?”

“You didn’t see what they did,” I replied quietly, remembering her broken body and hollow eyes.

He was quiet for a moment. “In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many of us left. We have to keep faith in justice. We’ll never make it if we each take the law into our own hands.”

I chortled. “We’ll never make it if we don’t take the law into our own hands.” It was futile trying to convince Tyler that the world was no longer wrapped with a comforting blanket of rules and traditions. We could no longer afford the luxury of hiding accountability beneath layers of red tape. Doyle wouldn’t follow the rules. Neither could we. In a matter of days, we’d toppled from thinking we were wolves to realizing that we were only rabbits.

I broke eye contact to look out the window. We were approaching tall chain-link fences, topped with razor wire, surrounding what looked to be at least ten acres of a National Guard base.

Camp Fox.

Too wide open for a solid defense. Too many areas for zeds to break through.

A white wind turbine rotated smoothly, towering above the base. My jaw dropped. “You have power?”

Tyler nodded. “Camp Fox has had its own wind energy for over five years now.”

“Showers?”

His lips curved. “Yes, we even have hot water.” I rested my head on the seat and fantasized about standing under a steamy shower as we approached the gate. Unfortunately, I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of fantasies. Not with Clutch’s—and my—current situation.