"Shit, yeah."

Blaze finished crunching away at her food and swallowed. "We don't know what he's been through. Regardless, a guy prepping for the end of days gets it, and he gets to use his bunker for what it was meant for-but I'm wondering if it's really everything he thought it would be. If you don't have to worry about surviving or dealing with other survivors, you have a lot of time to think about the big questions of the universe."

I dabbed at my wound. It looked better, and the sharp pains from before gave way to duller, more manageable agony. Another few days and I'd be ready to take the stitches out.

"Like you said, we don't know what he's been through. Maybe he had family and friends he tried to save and bring here when it happened?" The wound now dry, I taped a square of fresh gauze over it and donned my jacket again. I lay back down, lacing my hands behind my head and staring at the vent. "Didn't you see the photos on the way in?"

It wasn't like Blaze to try and analyze someone. I wondered if it was out of jealousy or admiration for his setup. If it was, I didn't blame her. A place like this was something I could only dream of back when I was holed up in a two bedroom apartment in the middle of downtown Seattle.

What if I were in this position? What if I had never let Gabe into my apartment, never gone looking for Frank? Being in Crow's place dredged up these thoughts. I'd believed I'd handle a solitary life like a champ. It was people, emotional erratic people, who made things tough. So the zombie apocalypse would be an ideal situation.

Lasko pulled her legs up and settled down on the top bunk. "I'm beat. Might as well get some shuteye. Nothin' else to do."

Blaze turned off the light and stepped over me to get into her bunk. From beneath the doorway, a faint bluish glow shone.

A low, grating noise indicated another door slid open. I wondered what else Crow had in the secret depths of his bunker.

Just as my eyes grew heavy and my brain shut down, Lasko spoke.

"You think about how many people we've killed in the space of, what, three days?"

Of course she'd bring that up. The one thought I desperately tried to avoid. She sounded halfway asleep, so I didn't answer, deciding it was rhetorical and she'd forget about it any second. I grasped at the hazy threads of sleepiness, begging them to stay.

To my surprise, Blaze answered, "Yeah. It's fucked up."

Lasko sighed. "'Night, Wright."

"'Night, Lasko."

A brief pause, then, together, they said, "'Night, Sinclair."

I wasn't sure where I was, or why my back hurt like a motherfucker. Even as reality returned, waking up to a dark room made me feel like I'd never been asleep. No known passage of time.

I sat up, stiffening as a spasm of pain shot from my lower back to my neck. Someone was knocking on the door.

"We're up," I shouted, getting to my feet slowly. I flicked on the light, which elicited a groan from one of my bunkmates.

The room had become warm and humid from our body heat as we slept. As I slid the door open the heat escaped, and coldness threatened to take my well-deserved warmth away. Lasko and Blaze quickly got out of bed.

The smell of food wafted from the kitchen unit. I crossed the gun room, checking the other doors, but none were left open. My watch read 5:01AM. Crow was a punctual son of a bitch. The sun was still an hour away from shedding any light on the forest.

Crow stood at the cooktop, doling out gummy oatmeal into bowls. Ghost already sat at the table eating breakfast, looking like he always did-rested, alert, yet calm.

He handed us each a bowl and a spork. It was hot and tasted like nothing, which was fine by me. I leaned in the doorway while I ate. Blaze and Lasko sat in the kitchen.

"I've got sixteen claymores ready," Crow said. "We'll need to wire them up on site, then I'll explain how to detonate them. You'll have to camp out there for as long as it takes for your target to pass by. Once we set it up, I don't recommend trying to move anything around."

"Got it," I said, then glanced at Blaze. "I guess this means no wild goose hunt to find the coal mine entrance. We take them out on the road, there won't be much opposition if we go straight in to the base for cleanup."

"Coal mine?" Crow stilled, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth.

I raised a brow. "You know of it?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Derek, you didn't tell me about any coal mine plan."

Ghost shrugged. "That isn't our plan any more. It was a desperate shot in the dark. We thought we'd use it to enter the base quietly, but we don't even know if the mine entrance exists. Our source says virtually all the Brotherhood will come down from the mountain base for their final attack on our settlements. Their base will be an easy target once we take out their army."

"You didn't say you were going up to the base, either. What else are you leaving out?" He frowned. "I know the coal mine and I know the base you're talking about."

"I didn't tell you because you... I didn't want to overwhelm you with details that didn't matter." Ghost stumbled over his words. Something he never did. I sensed a history between the two, but knew better than to ask.

"That was then, this is now." He didn't seem upset. Just interested.

My oatmeal grew less interesting, so I moved things along. "What do you know?"

"I know every bit of this land in a 50 mile radius. I've seen the coal mine entrance. It's about twenty miles north of here, then another three miles east is the base." Crow paused, biting his lip as he thought. "They got a road up to it, but if you think you can go in head first, you're in for it. They've got landmines planted all around the place and an alarm system like you've never seen. They tie the dead to trees all around-a hundred of them by my guess-'cause once they see you, they all start groaning. If there's anyone left after you blow them up, they'll know you're coming."

A turbulent mixture of anxiety and relief filled me. Anxiety because our plan was changing, but relief that Crow knew so much. But I was still skeptical, and not ready to take his word for it without further questioning.

"If their defense is so good, how do you know all this?" I asked.

"I didn't spend thirteen years in this place fucking around. I know my surroundings. I knew about the coal mine and abandoned factory long before the dead started rising. As for the zombies? A year ago, I was hunting in the area when I saw a group of people stringing them up to trees. Watched them for a while and tracked them back to the coal mine. It wasn't any of my business what they were doing there, so I left."

"Did you know what was happening in Goldbar?" Lasko asked.

"I knew people were living there, and that's when I stopped going that far west." He met her question with a hint of challenge in his voice, like he was defending himself.

I needed to diffuse the situation.

"Do you know if the coal mine leads to the factory?"

"It did when I searched it. It was in bad shape though. It could be collapsed for all I know, but you can still make your way to the factory topside." He finished the last bite of his oatmeal and pushed the bowl away. "It's risky."

I looked at my group. "What do you think? Take the coal mine tunnel in?"

"I see no reason not to," Blaze said. "Even if there isn't a soul left at the base, we'd be erring on the side of caution. If the mine seems dangerous, we'll turn back."

Lasko and Ghost nodded.

Dread dissolved into confidence. "Good. Let's go set up those claymores and send these fuckers back to hell."

Chapter 27.

Claymores are heavy, I thought as we lugged them through the forest. Even though we split the load evenly, the extra ten pounds of weight felt like twenty on my weary body. The only thing getting me through was the notion of ending this battle once and for all. Even that had its potential repercussions.

Crow navigated the forest with ease, leading us without falter back to the main road. The hike was much faster. I didn't say it out loud, but as far as I was concerned that meant Ghost did a poor job of leading us there in the first place.

We got back to the jeep and loaded our gear. The five of us squeezed into the small vehicle and we drove back down the forest road. We knew the Brotherhood would come from the NF road, but according to Crow the area wasn't good for an ambush. He pointed out a clear stretch of road we came in on, just outside of Index.

The reasonable weather we'd been having gave way to the usual freak Washington rainstorm. Blue skies were replaced with charcoal clouds and ice cold droplets of rain. Water gathered on the dashboard and tiny streams trickled into the car. The jeep had taken one hell of a beating since we left Valtown.

In addition to a few extra mags each, Crow gave us a compass, some green camouflaged ponchos, and precise directions to get to the coal mine entrance. As soon as he finished wiring the claymores, we were on our own.

After driving fifteen minutes outside of Index, the highway became flat and straight for about a mile. There was forest on the left, and to the right, about twenty feet from the road, was a sheer rock wall covered with wire mesh that kept debris from falling onto the pavement. It went on for half a mile.

"This is it. Stop the car."

We came to a stop, and the engine ticked once Ghost turned it off. Rain pattered against our gear after we got out. Crow surveyed the area.

"This is our kill zone," he said, gesturing to the stone wall. "If you're going to ambush them, there is no better spot than this. We have them between the hammer and anvil here. The main element will force them to go up or down the road-unless they want to push towards the claymores, which is unlikely-meeting your cut-off groups. If they try to scale the wall, they're even easier targets." He turned, motioning to the left and right. "I don't know how good a shot your friends are, but you need equal manpower in both groups. No way to know what direction they'll try to run. The cut-off groups will mop up anyone trying to escape the kill zone. I'm going to wire half of the claymores for each group to detonate. You don't know how many vehicles will be in the convoy, right?"

I shook my head. "No idea, but we expect a lot."

Crow nodded, staring at the ground pensively. "You'll have to detonate once the bulk of the convoy is in the kill zone. Remember, success in a gunfight is based on three things: surprise, speed, and violence of action. If you don't take out any surviving targets quickly, things will get messy fast."

He opened the back of the jeep and sorted through the equipment he brought. I spotted 2 car batteries and 2 bulky spools of wire, and I felt like an ass for complaining about the three measly claymores I carried through the forest. One of the others must've helped him carry the rest.

"I think we're all forgetting about the zombies," Lasko said. "We keep our distance and they'll mop up for us."

"Or they'll mop us up," I said. "Hundreds of fast Zs versus us? Yeah, we'll be on the losing end of that clusterfuck."

We took the claymores from the jeep and Crow directed us to put them 20 yards from each other on the forest side of the road. We were covering a total of 320 yards of road.

I wasn't an expert with explosives, but I knew our trap would be devastating. The highway was narrow; two lanes with almost no shoulder. Between the killing and fragmentation power of the claymores, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. There might not be any mop up.

I stuck the metal legs of my first claymore into the ground, pushing it until it was stable. The olive green plastic was in mint condition. Not a scratch on it. How many people would it claim? For something so small, the amount of destruction it would cause was staggering.

My next explosive in hand, I walked another 20 yards down the road, planting it in the soft dirt, and repeated the process with my final claymore. Crow unwound his wire, stepping backward from the middle claymore to where the first cutoff group would reside.

The forest terrain looked like it sloped downward about fifty feet in. Good for taking cover when we detonated, but higher terrain would be better for everything after.

Once we finished planting the claymores, there wasn't much we could do but wait for Crow to finish wiring and setting up the car batteries and detonators. We settled on locations for our cut-off groups-far enough away from the main element but with clear sight of the road. Since Blaze and I would see the convoy first, it was our job to detonate when we thought the bulk of the convoy was in the kill zone. Lasko and Ghost would follow suit.

Fuck, I wished I had a radio.

Crow was fast. After an hour, he'd wired half the claymores to each car battery and showed us how to use the detonator. We covered the claymores with tufts of grass, making them as indiscreet as possible. Then the group stood together by the jeep, admiring Crow's work.

"All you have to do is connect the clip to the car battery when its time, squeeze the detonator, and pray to God it works." For the first time since we met him, he smiled. "Damn, I'm good. This is one for the books, Derek."

"If it works," Ghost said, and clapped him on the back.

"There's a dirt road going to a fishing spot about two miles from here. I'll drive your vehicle there and drop it off. You got all your gear?"

Choruses of yes all around. Crow said goodbye and got into the jeep. The group parted and Blaze and I went to our designated cut-off point.

Night came and passed in a haze. We took shifts sleeping, but sleep was hard to come by. The ground was soft from layers of pine needles and ferns, making it somewhat comfortable. The recent rainfall made it damp and cold, canceling out anything positive about our situation. I let rain gather in my poncho as I sat, then poured it into an empty bottle that I drank from. I did it by touch to guide the liquid into the container. I'm sad to admit the task kept me amused for almost two hours.

With the black storm clouds above us, there was no light from the moon or stars. Nothing was quite like the darkness of a forest on a night like this. From the corner of my eye, I could make out vague forms of what was around me, but nothing in detail. At least if the convoy came at night, we'd see them easily. Their lights would be a beacon, visible as soon as they were within range. That was the only thing that got me to sleep. I'd hear them. I'd see them. I wouldn't be caught off guard.

The next morning, Blaze and I split a cheese tortellini MRE for breakfast. I wondered if Lasko and Ghost were up and what they were eating. Knowing those two, they were probably on their hundredth morning pushup already.

My nose and cheeks were numb, and undoubtedly red from the crisp weather. I felt snot dribbling on my lips and had to wipe it away every few minutes. It added extra salt to the already sodium laden MRE.

I wolfed down my food so I could wrap my scarf around my nose and mouth again.

Blaze set down the food and grabbed her rifle. My body tensed. The atmosphere changed in an instant. That sluggish morning feeling disappeared, replaced with an urgent quietness.

She flicked the cap off her scope and peered through in the general area of the highway. "Listen."

The rumbling of engines was faint, but undeniable.

I removed the plastic we'd set over the car battery and prepared the detonator. My mouth went dry and I fought hard to still my nerves. The MRE felt heavy in my stomach.

"Two SUVs in lead. Two school buses." She paused as the sound grew louder. "No, four. Four school buses. Holy shit, they're packed. Two more trucks in the rear."

What if this doesn't work? What if only one explodes?

"On my mark."

What's our backup plan?

"Three."

Do we have a backup plan?

"Two."

We don't have a fucking backup plan.

"One."

I squeezed the detonator.

The forest shook as our eight claymores went off within seconds of each other. A beat later, the other eight went off. Thousands of steel balls shredded the buses and cars, the sound like a million birdshots clanging against tin.

Tires screeched. Metal crunched against metal as the buses rammed into one another. I watched in awe as the buses kept grinding forward then bumped into the SUVs ahead. The claymores produced a thin veil of smoke that shrouded the area.