Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12

by Slaton, Derek

  “Come on,” he said, “let’s see if we can find us something nice.”

  Meanwhile, Coleman and Miles approached the barn cautiously, senses on high alert, assault rifles at the ready despite limited ammo.

  “Do you want to do the honors?” Coleman asked. “Or should I?”

  Miles raised an eyebrow. “I did it last time.”

  “And there wasn’t anything inside,” his companion shot back. “Not sure that should count.”

  Miles grinned. “Luck of the draw, baby,” he said playfully, “luck of the draw.”

  Coleman rolled his eyes and reached for the latch on the barn door. He carefully lifted it up, pulling it out towards them. Bodies immediately slammed into it, and he threw himself back against it, struggling to get it closed again.

  Miles immediately dove against the door, but his feet slid in the dirt under the force of the zombies trying to break free. “You wanna start shooting or something?!” he cried.

  Coleman backed up, took aim, and carefully popped off a few shots at the ones flailing in the opening, dropping them. As they fell, he spotted two pallets of shrink-wrapped bags behind them.

  “Fuck,” he breathed.

  Miles grunted as he continued to hold the door. “What?” he demanded.

  “We’re gonna have to go in there, I think I see the stuff,” Coleman replied.

  “Fuck,” Miles agreed, finally managing to lock his legs against the door. “How many of those things are in there?”

  His companion tried to peek inside, over the rotted oozing heads. “Twenty? Twenty-five?”

  “This is what you want to burn all your ammo on?” Miles demanded.

  Coleman shook his head. “I’m open to suggestions!”

  Miles frantically looked around, and then motioned to a glint on the side of the barn. “Get me that chain!” he cried.

  Coleman shot one more creature in the head as it tried to push its way out the door, and then rushed over to tear the chain from the wall. “Now what?” he asked when he returned.

  “Step back there and stretch it out, then stand clear,” Miles instructed.

  His comrade laid it out on the ground, quickly backing up, until there was six feet of chain along the dirt. “It’s ready!”

  Miles steadied himself and then dove away from the barn door, running to the chain as the weight of the zombies flung the door open. Coleman’s count was fairly accurate, easily two dozen undead farm hands that looked like they’d been locked inside since the apocalypse began.

  Miles grabbed the heavy chain and began swinging the end around his head like a lasso. After several rotations, the speed was fairly significant, no slack in the links at all.

  He timed his next spin, and caught the first ghoul in the side of the head, ripping right through its skull. He continued to whip it around, catching zombie after zombie in the head, sending bodies to the ground. After half a dozen or so, he misjudged an attack, the chain looping around a ghoul’s neck and sticking fast.

  Miles pulled on it, but the creature staggered towards him instead of getting free. He darted out of the way to avoid being tackled by the hungry corpse, and drew his handgun, shooting it in the back of the head as it went by.

  Coleman jumped forward, firing rapidly and deliberately, thinning out the horde until it was down to just a handful of creatures that were spread out pretty thin. With the bulk of the threat down, the soldiers drew their knives, employing the shirt grab and eye socket stabbing technique that Terrell had showed off to Walter just moments earlier.

  A few quick jabs later, and the front of the barn was littered with rotted unmoving corpses.

  Coleman let out a deep breath, chest heaving as he huffed, “You good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Miles replied, his own breathing heavy.

  “Guessing we can mark off chain wielding as a solid zombie fighting technique?” Coleman asked.

  Miles chuckled. “Hey now, I got a few of them with it.”

  They shared a laugh, more in relief than anything else, and recovered from their battle.

  “What’s with all that gunfire?” Terrell asked as he and Walter came running up from the house. “We’re not exactly flush with ammo here.”

  Coleman shook his head. “Sorry Cap, it was either that or get eaten,” he explained, motioning to the sea of dead flesh.

  Terrell surveyed the scene, and then nodded, understanding. “All right, as long as you boys are okay,” he said finally. “We can always get more ammo. People aren’t replaceable.” He clapped Coleman on the shoulder and motioned to the bodies. “But why didn’t you just keep these things locked up?”

  “Because I may have found what we’re looking for,” his second replied with a smile, and waved for him to follow into the barn.

  It was a bloodbath inside, the dirt floor mucky with coagulated crimson goo, body parts strewn about that looked like they’d been there for a while. They skirted the gore and headed for the pallets on the far side, each stacked high with large white bags.

  Coleman reached it first, and slapped his hand on top of the stack. “This is what I saw.”

  Terrell ran a hand across the label on the front boasting Ammonium Nitrate, and a grin broke out on his face. “About damn time we tracked this stuff down!”

  “Now we just gotta figure out how much we can get back,” Coleman replied. “All of this isn’t going to fit in one truck.”

  Terrell reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, jingling them. “Good thing I found the owner’s truck keys, then.”

  “Hell yeah!” Coleman said. “Let’s get loaded up so we can get back. I bet June and Ruth are whipping up something good for lunch!”

  The Captain rolled his eyes. “Good to know if I ever need to get you motivated, I just gotta promise you some fried chicken.”

  “If you really want to motivate me, then you should promise me some fixins too,” Coleman informed him with a wink.

  Terrell shook his head and chuckled as he headed off to get the other truck while his companions tore off the shrink wrap to load up their spoils.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Terrell drove the lead truck with Walter in the passenger’s seat, the bed loaded down with explosive materials.

  “You did good out there, kid,” he said.

  Walter sat up straighter in his seat, grinning. “Thank you,” he replied. “I’m so glad I didn’t let you down.”

  “It’s not about letting me down,” Terrell replied, shaking his head. “It’s about making sure you stay safe.”

  The kid beamed. “Well, I’ll do you proud by staying alive, how’s that?”

  “That works for me,” Terrell replied, chuckling.

  As they reached the town limit, just about at the spot where they cut across the field, the front tire exploded. He fishtailed, struggling to keep control of the vehicle. Coleman slammed on the brakes behind him, swerving to avoid hitting them. He skidded off the road, trapped in a deep ditch.

  “Get behind the wheel well!” Terrell cried.

  Walter tore out of the vehicle, ducking behind the wheel as per the Captain’s instructions. Terrell clambered out of the passenger door after him, handgun at the ready. Coleman and Miles dove out of their truck, ducking for cover.

  “What the hell happened?” Coleman yelled.

  Terrell raised his chin. “Tire exploded!” he called back.

  “Then why are we hiding?” Coleman asked, raising an eyebrow.

  The Captain shook his head. “Because assholes have been trying to kill us for weeks.”

  “So either they’re out there…” Coleman trailed off.

  Terrell scanned the trees. “Or this is one hell of a coincidence,” he finished. He took his rifle and readied it before popping up over the hood of the truck. He looked around the neighborhood that was just across from them, not seeing anything except for a few zombies in the yards that weren’t paying them any attention. He ducked back down.

  “See anything?”
Coleman asked from behind him.

  Terrell shook his head. “Some rows of shitty houses, but not much else,” he replied, clenching his jaw.

  “Well, what do you want to do, Cap?” Coleman pressed.

  “Don’t know,” Terrell replied firmly, “I’m thinking.” He popped up once again, scanning the neighborhood, but still didn’t see anything. He wasn’t sure if he was being cautious or paranoid. He didn’t like it, but in the apocalypse nobody could be too careful. He finally slung his rifle over his shoulder.

  “We good?” Coleman asked.

  The Captain sighed. “If somebody’s out there, they would have taken a shot at me by now,” he said, hoping.

  They stood up and moved back to their vehicles to inspect the damage. Terrell knelt down at the busted tire. It was completely gone, as if it had exploded.

  “That don’t look like no flat,” Walter said.

  He pursed his lips. “No, buddy, it does not.”

  Coleman floored the gas, but the tires just spun in the muck from the recent days of pelting rain. It was at too steep of an angle in the deep ditch. He turned off the vehicle and pocketed the keys, shaking his head.

  “Well, that’s a no go,” he declared. “What about you, Cap?”

  Terrell shook his head. “Either I hit something, or something hit me, because I’ve never seen a tire explode like that.”

  “Is there a spare?” Miles asked.

  Terrell shook his head, running a hand across his forehead.

  “Great, so one truck with no tire,” Miles retorted, “and one truck stuck in a ditch. Ideas?”

  Coleman took a deep breath. “Don’t suppose there’s a mechanic shop in Mount Olive?”

  “It’s certainly big enough,” Terrell replied, “but we’re gonna have to find it.”

  “It sure looked like this road led to downtown, if you can call it that,” Coleman said.

  Miles clucked his tongue. “Yeah, and a few hundred zombies.”

  “They were up towards the neighborhood a bit,” Coleman reminded him. “We should be all right if we’re careful.”

  Walter raised a hand. “We could find the Chamber of Commerce,” he suggested. At the sight of three surprised looks in his directions, he wilted. “Or… not.”

  “No, I think that’s a great idea,” Terrell said quickly. “It’s just…”

  Coleman let out an apologetic laugh. “Didn’t really see that suggestion coming from you, that’s all.”

  “My Uncle would supply a lot of businesses with fresh vegetables, so he would take me with him when he’d go to new towns,” Walter explained quickly. “We’d always stop by the Chamber to find out everywhere he needed to go.”

  Terrell grinned. “Really glad we brought you, bud,” he declared, and clapped the proud kid on the back. “Come on, let’s start hiking.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The four men ducked down behind a dilapidated wooden structure a couple of blocks from downtown. Terrell peeked out to see a few dozen zombies in the road leading up a few more blocks.

  “Walter, any idea where this place is?” Terrell whispered.

  The kid shook his head. “Sorry, my Uncle never came here to sell,” he admitted.

  The Captain stared out, noting a path to the back of the main street buildings on their side of the street was clear. “I want y’all to wait here,” he said quietly.

  “Where are you going?” Coleman asked.

  “Gonna pay that business up there a little visit,” Terrell explained. “If things go south, get back to the truck, steal a tire off the other one if you have to, and get back.”

  His second shook his head, brow furrowed. “What about you?”

  “Well, if you see a brother hitchhiking, feel free to pick him up,” he said, and gave Coleman a fist bump before breaking cover. He stayed in the gross, running through a little field before hopping a fence a block up from the back of the building. There was a short side street and another field, with only one lone zombie in it.

  Terrell darted across, straight for the zombie who turned excitedly just to receive a knife strike to the eyeball. The Captain barely broke stride, rushing up to the building. There were several doors that led into the various businesses. He tried a few, finding them locked. After the third one, the center-most door, he whipped out his knife and jammed it in the doorframe.

  It took him a few moments of wiggling, but he finally managed to get the blade between the latch. He popped the door open, relief washing over him when no alarm bleated, and slipped inside.

  The building was home to a country kitchen buffet restaurant with several tables, serving dishes, and an assortment of tacky wall decor. He wrinkled his nose at how anybody had thought it was a good idea to decorate with this look.

  Office, office, he thought, looking around. He finally found a door labeled Manager, and threw it open, pulling out his flashlight to illuminate the dark. The office resembled a windowless storage closet more than an actual office, causing Terrell to feel sorry for the former occupant.

  Damn, dude must have welcomed the end of it all, he thought as he scanned the tiny desk with barely any walking around room. He painted the wall with his flashlight, and finally found a phone with several business cards stapled to the faux wood paneling.

  Jackpot, he thought as he skimmed down the cards, various suppliers, repairmen and whatnot, before finding one for a Jenny Smith, the local Chamber of Commerce Representative. There we go.

  He pulled it down, and looked at the address, 1176 Main Street. He breathed a sigh of relief that the Chamber was on the main drag. He headed back out into the main area of the restaurant, moving all the way back to the front. It was dim in there, as the front windows were blotted out by curtains, but still bright enough for him to navigate without smacking his shins on the tables.

  He made it to the front, and peered out the small window above the door with the numbers 1045 at the top. One block off, he thought, and carefully pulled back the curtain to look out into the street. There were about a hundred zombies out there, heading in both directions. He strained to read the numbers on the businesses across the street. He pulled out his rifle and used the scope to try to see them. The one across the street to the left was 1022.

  Okay, it’s somewhere to the right on the next block, he thought, and looked up that way, but it was impossible to see the numbers with all of the zombies in the street. No way in hell we’re going to be able to sneak past that and stay out of sight. He shook his head bitterly.

  After a moment of contemplation, a lightbulb went off in his head and he chuckled under his breath. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself. He shook his head at his thought, and then took a deep breath, pressing his head against the wall so he could see right down the line of the building.

  There were several zombies near the door, but none within a few feet of it. He continued to shake his head as he walked over to the door, gently flipping the deadbolt. He paused for a moment, collecting himself before the stupidity he was about to commit.

  Then he opened the door, and then opened his mouth, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Come and get me, motherfuckers!”

  A zombie a few feet away turned, looking momentarily stunned, and then realized a fresh meal stood in front of it. It shrieked and moaned and reached for him, alerting the rest of the horde that it was a real screaming treat.

  As soon as it moved towards him, Terrell backed inside and took off for the back of the restaurant. Zombies poured in, filling the space quickly, and he stood at the back doorway to watch them trip over chairs and tables.

  “Yeah, I’m back here, assholes!” he bellowed. “You can’t get me!” He peeked out the back door to make sure it was clear, and then waited for the restaurant zombies to fill up at least half of the area. He slammed the door and made sure it was tight before he raced back to rejoin his crew.

  “Were you yelling?” Coleman asked as he returned.

  The Captain nodded. �
�Yep,” he confirmed. “Had to draw them off of the street so we could get across.”

  “So you found the Chamber?” Walter asked hopefully.

  “Yep,” Terrell replied, motioning to the road. “Other side of the road on the next block.”

  They looked out towards the intersection, still seeing zombies milling about the direction they needed to go.

  “Might be a good idea to go up a block and come back down,” Miles suggested. “Buy us a little more space.”

  Terrell nodded and extended his arm. “Lead on, then.”

  Miles headed forward, leading the group from their hiding spot. They crossed the side street before moving up to the back of the Main Street buildings. They moved quickly, but didn’t speed up to a run so they could keep their footsteps quiet. They reached the other side, and crept up to the curb, ducking behind a dented sedan and looking around at the numbers of the building.

  Miles pointed to a sign boasting Chamber of Commerce, and turned to Terrell. “It’s still two doors down,” he said quietly. “But there’s still a lot of zombies in the road.”

  “Any in front?” Terrell asked.

  He shook his head. “No, but still too close for comfort,” he admitted.

  Coleman pointed across the street. “Let’s get in through the back, then.”

  Miles nodded and glanced back down the street, watching the zombies shambling away towards Terrell’s restaurant distraction. With their backs turned, he chanced creeping across the street. He waved for the others to follow, putting a finger to his lips.

  When they got into an alleyway on the other side, Miles peeked back out to make sure that they hadn’t been discovered. None of the zombies had noticed them, thankfully, and he ducked back into the alley, giving Terrell a thumbs up.

  He took the lead, heading to the back of the building and peering around the corner. A few zombies hung around near a dumpster, and he motioned to his soldiers to take them out. Miles and Coleman rushed forward silently, stabbing the zombies and catching the bodies as they fell to avoid making any noise.