Surge (106 page)

It sticks out like a sore thumb, when he’s sleeping in a tree that’s mostly green with a spot of orange near the top. Why the idiot chose this tree, when the next one over is almost completely orange, is a mystery to me, but I’ll take it. We could have walked right by him, or been spotted if he’d chosen a different spot. But since the moron didn’t take care when he chose his napping position, it enables Webby to spring up through the branches, and slit the guy’s throat silently. Webby then climbs down just as silently, with the raider’s silenced rifle that has an attached scope, in hand.

I want to ask why he just killed the guy, instead of pulling answers out of him first, but I don’t. They’re the professionals, so if they’d rather scout out the camp for themselves, rather than take the word of the enemy, that’s their prerogative. Actually, when I use my brain and think about it for a minute, I figure that the decision to terminate the dude was the better option. Had we woken the raider up, he could have alerted his buddies, and then we would have been fucked; so I can see why Webby acted as he did.

Even if others may see it as the wrong thing to do, morally speaking, I’m learning that we have a new set of moral codes to abide by. Ones where it’s acceptable to take an enemy out. before they have the chance to get at you, or to walk into a situation where you know that you are going to have to take life to save another’s. These guys are already accustomed to this kind of thinking with their previous professions, and being sent into hostile zones, but I haven’t. The only human lives that I had to take, were back at the condo when the raiders came in. And even then, they were masked, so I was able to pretend that it was like a video game. Yes, I know that I’ve killed countless infected, but they were different, they were more beast than man.

Hell, when I think about it, so aren’t the raiders. What makes them any different than the wheezers? Sure, they use guns or other weapons to kill, but they’re still taking lives of innocents. But these fucks don’t have an excuse. The wheezers do, so I’m starting to understand how Olivia doesn’t think of them as monsters but victims. And she’s kind of right. They didn’t ask to be infected, they were either attacked, or volunteered for a treatment promising an end to their terminal illness. Well, they got their wish of being cured of cancer, but I’d say that the side effects definitely outweighed the benefits.

<~~~<~~~
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We continue following Wally’s lead through the woods for about another mile without spotting another guard. Seeing as they only had one in the two mile span that we’ve walked, I’m taking it as they’re either cocky and think that no one will dare attack them, or they don’t have the people to spare. I’m hoping that it’s the latter, but guessing that for these douchebags, it’s the former.

Henry did say that they had about a hundred, but I wasn’t convinced. Every piece of information that we’ve been given during questioning has either been a lie, or said out of spite, so you have to take their responses with a grain of salt and go with your gut. And my gut’s telling me that we had another liar. Yeah, he told the truth about his name, but the rest of it could have just been said to try and save his balls, literally. I know that if someone had threatened my man piece, I would have sung like a canary, but that doesn’t mean particularly mean that the shit I’d have spouted off would have been true. I could have made it sound believable, and so couldn’t Henry.

Wally signals for us to stop, and he crouches low, before approaching the tree line again. He doesn’t go through this time, he just separates a branch or two, and peers around for a few minutes. Once he’s satisfied, he silently walks back to us and jerks his chin for us to move further into the woods. We’re about a hundred feet farther in the trees before Wally motions for us to stop and gather in close.

“They got tents step up around the club,” Wally says. “From the amount of them, I’d say that Henry’s guess was exaggerated.” Thank god. I don’t think that the eleven of us could have taken on a hundred men. “But it’s still about sixty people. Most of them men, but there are women, and from the looks of it, they’re raiders and not being held against their will.”

“Any prisoners?” I ask and Wally shakes his head.

“Not that I can see,” he answers. “But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t any. They may have them inside the building, since I seen them moving in and out of there.”

“Livi?” Cory asks and Wally shakes his head again. “But that’s okay, right? She could just be inside?”

“She’s fine,” I tell him and squeeze his shoulder in support. I see some of his tension ease, maybe because he’s not alone this time? I know that this must be raging hell on his nerves if it has me as twisted as it does. I nod at Wally to continue his assessment, the faster we know what we’re dealing with, the faster we can regroup and strategize.

“I think that we should spy from the tree line until it’s time to meet at the rally point,” Wally suggests. “The more information we have on them, the more prepared we’ll be.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agree, and see Webby and Cory nod their consent with the plan.

“Good, I want you and Webby to go back through the trees, climb one, and scout from the branches,” Wally says. “Cory and I will go further down. When it’s time to move, I’ll buzz the walkie, so make sure it’s on low.”

Webby pulls his walkie from his belt and flips the switch. After making sure that the volume is low enough to be heard by Webby, but not the raiders, Wally and Cory head off to the left, while Webby and I move back to where Wally peered through the trees. Webby picks a tree that’s a little farther in, and points for me to take the one neighboring it. Now, I haven’t climbed a tree since I was thirteen, but I have used a trellis to escape from a girl’s bedroom when her dad came home, so I know how to climb. I use my retreating skills, and offer a mental thank you to Mr. Browning for coming home early and forcing me to acquire climbing skills at a rapid pace.

Once I’m settled about twenty feet off the ground, I lean back against the trunk, and widen the strap to my thigh holster to tie me to the tree. I don’t think that I’ll be falling anytime soon, but I don’t want to take the chance of falling from this height. Satisfied that I’m not going to take a tumble, I turn my attention to the camp. There are several trees in front of our position, so I only have about a four foot gap to peer through, but it’s enough to see some of the action.

There are about three dozen tents set up around a massive bon fire in the middle. It looks like they’re burning chairs, why the hell they would burning furniture when it isn’t even that cold, is beyond me. I can see the ant-like men buzzing around to do whatever they’ve been ordered to do. Most are wearing fatigues, like the ones from the condo attack, and Henry, but I’ve seen several wearing the orange jumpsuits like the one Webby killed in the woods.

Even from this height, I can see the black writing on the suits, marking them as former prison inmates, but I can’t read from where. Maybe Cole escaped with a few friends? Or he picked up a few fellow convicts along the way? Or it could just be that they use them as a poor attempt at camouflage, whatever the reason, their previous convict status is null and void. They are all criminals in my mind, regardless if they have a formal record or not.

They’ve burglarized, murdered, raped, and tortured anyone they’ve come across, and so they must all be exterminated. Just because the former system collapsed, doesn’t mean that you get to act like an animal and get away with it. People like these don’t deserve to live, never mind prosper in the world. I cannot, and will not allow it.

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“Jared,” Webby whispers. I turn to look at him, and have to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust to their new target. They’ve been straining to make out the raiders in the dark for the last hour, so it takes a few seconds for me to see the dark shape in the branches.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

“Just got the call, time to head in.”

I nod, then remember that he probably can’t see it, so I verbalize my answer and climb down from my perch. Webby meets me at the bottom, before he heads in the direction from which we came. It takes about half an hour to reach the van, but I can see that a few of the others have already arrived. Ace and the twins are there, so we’re waiting on Patsy’s group, along with Wally and Cory.

“How many did you guys count?” Webby asks.

“I counted forty-three out back,” Ace answers.

“I got twelve going in and out,” Carlos says.

“And I got sixteen out front,” Oscar adds.

“All hostile?” I ask.

“Yeah, they all were armed,” Ace says. “But I only seen handguns or knives, no automatics.”

“I seen automatics,” Patsy says as he steps through the trees.

“And explosives,” John says from behind him. Tommy nods his silent agreement.

“Can we get at either?” Webby asks.

Patsy grins and reaches around to pull his backpack in front of him. It couldn’t even be zipped, so I see the muzzle of the gun, before he pulls it from his pack. It’s a freaking AK-47, no, I’ve never used one, but I recognize it from a few of my video games. And Patsy ain’t done there; he sets the AK down like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, before digging through his pack. His hand comes out with three different kinds of bombs. Ace immediately goes down on his knees beside Patsy and snatches one from his hands, before rubbing it against his cheek.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” Ace whispers. I raise my eyebrows at the reverent way he’s handling a fucking bomb, but don’t say anything. If he’s that attached to the damn thing, then he must know how to use it to our advantage.

“What kind is that one?” Carlos asks.

“Smoke, or Flash?” Oscar inquires.

“A little of both,” Webby replies. “They call it a concussion.”

“Oh, they had those in COD,” John says.

“Yeah, but these are real,” Patsy counters. “And they can fuck you up if you don’t know how to handle them, so these babies will be stayin’ in the hands of the professionals.”

“Awww,” John whines.

“Get over it,” I say and he flips me off. “I don’t want my eyes burnt out because some amateur didn’t get his way.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Patsy agrees as he stands. “Hey, Cap, catch!” Patsy hurls something the size of a baseball over our heads, so I turn and watch it sail into Wally’s outstretched hand. Wally glances at the object and grins.

“You greedy bastard,” Wally calls back. “Didn’t I say to wait to engage the enemy.” Patsy holds up his hand.

“I didn’t
engage
the enemy,” Patsy denies and points at the twins. “Did I?” They both shake their heads in the negative. “See, I merely used my stealth of a cheetah, to swoop in and borrow a few things. They didn’t have any sugar, but I figured that these were a nice consolation prize.”

“What else did you get?” Wally asks as he walks over to the backpack that Ace has since spread across the grass. “Okay, you’ve got the concuss grenades, flash bangs, an AK-47, and frags.”