Cracked: A Deadland short story

I checked my ammo. Half a mag. What I wouldn't give for a .50 cal machine gun with unlimited ammo right about now.

After everyone finished checking their ammo and refilling their canteens with water bottles off the shelves, silence reverberated through the place for long seconds.

I shouldered my rifle and pulled out my knife. "Let's do this. Once we're outside, we're invisible until we get in a vehicle. No shots unless there's no other option.  Got it?"

Yes, sir and hooah were my only response.

I took lead and crawled into the back room to the service door. I pushed aside the stack of boxes propped against the busted door and scanned outside through the window. Two zeds trudged near a dumpster. One had been a younger man wearing a nametag the same golden color as the coffee shop sign. The other, a middle-aged woman in business clothes, had been badly chewed upon.

I held up two fingers. "The alley looks wide open right now. Thompson, you take lead. Hart, you're with Thompson. Jonesie and I will take out the two tangos at the dumpster and will be right behind you. Whatever happens, do not draw attention. Got it?"

Jonesie gave a slight nod. With a glance and a returning nod from Thompson, I helped Jonesie open the door.

Thompson took the lead. On his way past me, Hart grumbled something under his breath, but I ignored him.

Jonesie stepped outside next. I hustled up behind the zed, pulled out my blade, and skewered its temple just as it turned its jaundiced eyes on me. It fell lifelessly to the ground. I turned to see Jonesie standing over a dead zed, pulling his knife free from its forehead. When no other zeds jumped out from behind the dumpster, we jogged to catch up with the rest of the Third.

At the end of the alley, Thompson flattened against a small outbuilding, and everyone followed suit. He peered around the edge of the building and snapped back. He held up the all-clear sign and then took off at a sprint.

We ran to catch up.

After several blocks, we slowed to a steady jog but continued this way for over forty minutes, weaving around cars, killing every stray zed that noticed us. My hand ached from gripping the knife. As far as I could see, the roads were still blocked every so often with wreckage. Nothing short of a Humvee would break through the mess, and the best vehicle we'd found so far was some hybrid car with the driver's side door wide open.

I decided to keep hoofing it. There were getting to be more trees and the stores had switched over to rows of houses. The number of zeds was decreasing, and we were moving faster. It wouldn't be much longer before the roads were open enough that we'd be able to grab anything and get out of town before Phoenix struck.

We no longer stopped at corners. We ran through shaded alleys, pausing to kill strays and stopping only at buildings and intersections to get our bearings.

We paused at a small detached garage. Thompson peeked around the corner. He hollered and fell back with a zed clinging onto him. He swung his rifle, and a quick burst of automatic gunfire broke the quiet like an alarm clock in the early morning.

"Goddammit, Thompson!" I hissed as Hart and I yanked the zed off him.

He climbed to his feet. "Sorry, Maz. Fuckin' zed got the jump on me."

With our stealth approach literally shot all to hell, another zed came running across the yard, leveling its empty gaze hungrily on us. My blade through its temple finished it off. Three more that had been busy chewing on something in a car turned our way.

I threw my arm forward. "Run!"

We took off, but every zed in a mile radius must've heard the gunfire and was closing in from every direction. As Thompson and Hart cleared a path in front of us, a pair came at me from the side. Freshly turned zeds were as fast and agile as humans, and these were as fresh as they come. I grabbed the first zed by its shirt and flung it to the side. It twisted around and lashed out at me. I jumped back and shoved a blade through its eye. The second zed pile-drove me into the ground, snapping its jaws at me. A few more gunshots and it slackened. I rolled it off me, flinging brown sludge off my flak vest.