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

by Slaton, Derek

  Terrell approached the door, and when he found it locked, he wedged his knife into the doorframe and wiggled it, just like he’d had on the restaurant. He nodded towards the door, counting down quietly before pulling it open for Coleman to lead the way inside.

  The Chamber was a small building with two smaller offices near the back, and a large front area with a meeting table and a front sitting area. The blinds were closed, cheap plastic with nicotine stains collected since the nineties.

  Coleman quickly swept the area, finding nothing. He got up to the front, peeking out to make sure no zombies had turned towards the building, and they hadn’t, still shambling off for the restaurant they thought still held a snack. He double-checked the door was secure before joining the rest.

  “We’re good,” he said.

  Miles secured the back door, making sure it was latched snugly.

  “All right,” Terrell said, rolling his hand in the air above his head. “Everybody start digging through desks and cabinets,” he instructed. “We gotta find us a mechanic.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The group pored over papers scattered all over the desks and tables in the conference room. In the center was a map of the town, spread out in all its detail, and Terrell stood over it, staring down at it with a determined expression.

  “I got it!” Walter said, emerging from one of the back offices with a rolodex in one hand, the other clutching a cream-colored card.

  “You got us a mechanic?” Terrell asked, turning to him.

  The kid nodded. “Mechanic and junkyard,” he replied with a proud grin. “They’re gonna have it all.” He approached the large table, dropping the rolodex with a thunk, and then held out the card to the Captain.

  Terrell took it and read it over, Smitty’s Junker Service, 968 Maple. He leaned over the map and scanned the little side streets, running his finger along the lines.

  “Ten blocks to the north,” he finally said, tapping on the spot on the map. “That’ll work.” Coleman and Walter leaned over the map as well, tracing the route, while Miles stayed at the front window, keeping watch on the zombies.

  They continued to congregate around the restaurant, shoving in through the front door like lemmings. All of a sudden, there was a glint out of the corner of his eye, and he shifted his focus to the building across the street.

  Several people moved about inside the building, taking up firing positions at the windows. Miles froze for a moment at the sight, but then fell into a fight mode and raised his gun. He opened fire, his first shot shattering the glass, and catching a man across the street in the chest.

  The sudden jarring sound of bullets flying sent Terrell and Coleman to the floor.

  “What the fuck is going-” Terrell began, and then gunfire shredded the front of the building. He grabbed Walter’s arm and pulled him down next to him, the kid’s eyes wide as saucers.

  Bullets flew, glass exploded, papers flapped around everywhere. Miles fired a few blind shots and then hit the deck, crawling frantically back to his crew.

  “Get to the back, go!” Terrell bellowed.

  Coleman was the closest to the back hallway, and he crawled towards it with his handgun at the ready just in case somebody was trying to flank them. As he reached the door, gunfire continuing to tear through the Chamber of Commerce, he slid out along the pavement, aiming in both directions to check.

  “Clear!” he called, and then leapt up to a crouch, getting out of the way so the others could join him.

  Coleman and Miles took up a flanking position, aiming in both directions behind the back of the building. Walter pressed his back up against the wall, next to Terrell who peered back into the building as the firing stopped.

  “These assholes just don’t quit,” he muttered.

  Coleman threw a glance over his shoulder. “Eh, look at the bright side, Cap,” he drawled. “At least you weren’t paranoid about the tire exploding.”

  “What are we going to do?” Walter demanded, wringing his hands in panic.

  Miles cocked his head. “Not a bad question, Cap.”

  “We need to get to that mechanic shop,” Terrell declared.

  Coleman and Miles shared a pointed look, and then nodded at each other.

  “You and Walter take care of that,” Coleman said.

  Terrell furrowed his brow. “What the fuck y’all gonna do?” he demanded.

  “Draw them to the south,” his second replied. He approached the door and held out his fist, and his Captain bumped it with a firm nod.

  “Rally back here once you’re clear if you can,” Terrell said. “If not, head to the trucks.”

  Coleman nodded. “See you on the other side, Cap,” he said, and then peeked in the door. Several of their attackers had approached the building, and were stepping through the busted windows to get inside, guns sweeping the area.

  Coleman dipped inside and fired a few shots, playing possum at the door until one of the men noticed him. As soon as they made eye contact, he took off running towards the south.

  Terrell grabbed Walter’s arm and dragged him along, tearing north and across the street away from the building. He dove behind a van in the lot, and shoved the kid down behind a wheel well, before taking up position just above him.

  Walter didn’t move, simply sitting silently, breath quick as he thought about how much trouble they were in. Terrell kept his head down just enough so that he couldn’t be seen through the van window, but could peer across the inside of the vehicle. He counted eleven men pouring out of the back of the building to chase after Coleman and Miles.

  The last one was a familiar face, and Terrell’s gaze darkened at the sight of Mario, the guy he’d let go when he tried to sneak into their community with Miles.

  This motherfucker ain’t getting away this time, he thought bitterly.

  Mario pointed to the south and sent seven of his men that way to chase after the soldiers. The other three clustered around him and they ran northward.

  Terrell took a knee next to Walter, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to listen closely,” he whispered into the kid’s ear. “We’re in trouble, but we’re gonna get out of it. We’re going to have to fight our way through them to get what we need. Do you think you can handle it?”

  Walter nodded jerkily.

  Terrell stared him down, making sure he understood the severity of the situation, and judging his resolve. “Okay,” he whispered. “You do what I say when I say it, and we’ll be fine, okay?” he asked, and the kid nodded again, more vigorously this time. “Okay, first off,” Terrell continued, “we’re gonna sit here for a few minutes, and let them get nice and far away from here. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to sneak right past them.”

  He kept his gun at the ready, watching both north and south in case somebody decided to double back. His heart pounding and his soul ready for battle, Terrell knelt next to the teenager he’d sworn to protect, and waited.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Coleman and Miles ran down the next block of buildings, ducking behind cover at the next street. As soon as they turned the corner, there were three zombies there.

  Rather than fire, Miles didn’t break momentum, crashing into them with his shoulder and sending them tumbling back onto the ground.

  Coleman skidded to a stop and peeked back around the corner, watching several men pour out of the back of the Chamber building.

  “How bad is it?” Miles asked, checking his mag.

  Coleman shook his head. “Dozen or so, can’t tell,” he replied.

  There were only two bullets left in Miles’ mag, so he swapped it out for his full one. “Well, at least I have more bullets than bad guys.”

  He readied his weapon before turning back to the zombies flailing on the ground. They were managing to find their footing, so he walked back over and kicked the closest one firmly in the chest, sending it tumbling back into the others and knocking them back again.

  “So, what’s the play?” he asked.
/>   Coleman shrugged. “Get them as far south of the Captain as possible,” he replied.

  “I dig it,” Miles agreed, “but not sure simply running forever is that great of a plan,” he added.

  His partner turned to him. “If you have an idea, I’m game,” he said.

  “That school we passed when we first came into town isn’t too far away,” Miles suggested.

  Coleman raised an eyebrow. “You mean the one that had all the zombies around it?” he asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the one!” Miles replied, nodding excitedly.

  His partner stared at him for a moment, and then noticed the zombies getting back up again. “You uh,” he said, motioning to the trio of undead, “you wanna take care of that?”

  Miles turned and gave the lead one another swift kick, sending them back to the ground in another rotted pile. When he turned back to his friend’s questioning gaze, he shrugged. “What?” he asked. “Let those assholes worry about them. If it’s a straight up fight against them, we’re in trouble,” he said. “If they’re fighting against us and zombies, we got a chance.”

  “Good enough for me,” Coleman agreed. “Let’s give them a reason to keep following us.”

  Miles nodded and they took off down to Main street, taking up positions beside one of the buildings. The bulk of the zombies on the street had flooded into the restaurant across the way, although some of them turned at the sound of footsteps.

  The ghouls began moaning and shambling towards the two men who lay in wait for their pursuers. Miles kept his weapon trained on them, while Coleman aimed at the corner they’d just come around. He kept a countdown of how long they had before they should run.

  “Thirty yards,” he finally said.

  Coleman nodded. “We’re good,” he reported.

  The zombies continued to shamble towards them, their moans and snarls grabbing the attention of the others that had been still trying to get into the restaurant.

  “Twenty-five yards,” Miles said. He gripped his weapon, hoping he wouldn’t have to waste precious ammo on the creatures.

  Coleman remained steadfast, keeping his eyes peeled for their pursuers, waiting on just the first one to come around the corner.

  “Twenty,” Miles urged.

  His partner listened intently, trying to blot out the sounds of the moaning and hear approaching living footsteps. He finally heard what he thought could be running footsteps getting closer from across the way.

  “Fifteen,” Miles said, his voice beginning to strain.

  “They’re almost here,” Coleman hissed.

  His partner took a deep breath. “Hope so…” After a few more tense moments, he turned to glare at his friend. “Ten!” he called.

  Coleman didn’t answer, and kept his concentration as the first man came around the corner. Him and a buddy, two middle-aged men with hunting rifles and pistols, noticed the trio of zombies that Miles had knocked down, and pulled their handguns as the ghouls approached them.

  “FIVE,” Miles urged.

  Coleman aimed and pulled the trigger. One of the men’s knees exploded, and he screamed in agony, dropping to the ground. The other one panic-fired towards Coleman, who was already aiming to fire again.

  His bullet went wild as Miles grabbed his arm and dragged him down the sidewalk.

  “What the f-” Coleman barked, but the words died on his lips at the sight of ten zombies five yards away.

  They darted into the road as gunfire rang out, and then the telltale screams of someone getting eaten alive by zombies.

  “One down,” Coleman muttered, glad that at least his kneecap shot had had the desired effect.

  They ran up a few blocks, taking up position at the end of the row of businesses. Miles watched the Main street side, and Coleman ran to the back of the building, setting up shop there. The former fired a few shots at the zombies closest to him, buying himself a little more time.

  “How far’s the school?” Coleman asked.

  Miles glanced down the road, noting a few houses in the distance and a huge driveway just past them. “Looks like maybe a quarter mile?” he replied.

  “Cover?” his partner asked.

  “Few houses,” Miles reported, “but god knows what’s inside.”

  “Then let’s stay outside then, huh?” Coleman quipped, and then peeked out around the back of the buildings, seeing half a dozen men heading his way. They ran up, taking cover, a few breaking and moving up, then the back ones breaking and moving up, and so on.

  When they reached a few storefronts away, Coleman fired, narrowly missing a ducking head. “Got six my way,” he said as he flattened himself against the brick wall. “You got anything.”

  “They aren’t coming this way,” Miles replied, shaking his head at the thirty or so zombies now in the street. He broke away and rushed over to his partner. “Too many of those things.”

  Coleman leaned out and squeezed off a few more shots, missing his target. Several bullets flew back at him, a few ricocheting off of the wall where he hid, and he ducked back beside his friend.

  “I think you may have pissed them off,” Miles said brightly.

  Coleman nodded. “Pretty safe assumption,” he replied, and peeked around the corner again. They were getting a little too close for comfort. “Fall back to the houses,” he said, and after a quick countdown, they broke cover.

  The duo tore towards the closest house, and as they approached it, several zombies appeared on both sides, drawn to the gunfire.

  “Pick where we’re going!” Miles cried.

  Shots rang out behind them, one whistling as it narrowly missed him, and they darted through the yard.

  “In the house!” Coleman yelled, and hip fired his rifle a few times, shattering the front bay window. He didn’t stop moving, diving through it into the living room. He landed on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him as his chest hit the hardwood floor.

  Miles leapt in behind him, taking a more tactful hop over the threshold as bullets ripped into the house.

  Coleman rolled over and drew his handgun as a zombie ambled towards him from the hallway. As he aimed, Miles rushed over to it, and grabbed the creature by it’s shirt, whipping it around and then throwing it right out the front window. He took a knee and peered out the corner of the window at the six men chasing them.

  He fired a few shots, forcing the men to stop their forward momentum and find cover, or hit the ground. A few of them fired back, and he backed away from the window.

  “Persistent fuckers, aren’t they?” he muttered.

  More windows exploded, and a lucky shot managed to hit the door knob, and the front door swung open by its own accord. Zombies immediately took advantage, and began pouring into the house.

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Coleman growled, and they leapt to their feet.

  The firing stopped for a moment as the zombies invaded the house, and Miles lunged for them. He crashed into the lead zombie with a vicious shoulder bash, sending it into the second one and back out the door. He gave it a swift kick in the chest and they went down the front porch step, clearing the doorway.

  Miles flipped off the gunmen through the open door and then ducked for cover as bullets flew once again.

  “The bird, huh?” Coleman chuckled, shaking his head at his friend.

  Miles shrugged, brushing off one of his shoulders. “Yeah, gotta remind them that they aren’t breaking us.”

  A lamp above Coleman’s head exploded in an array of glass and flowery fabric, and he covered his head, laughing even more at their situation. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get to the school.”

  They crawled along the floor to the back of the house, careful to avoid broken glass, and peeked out the rear entry. When they were sure there were no zombies there, they crept to the corner of the house and Coleman peered discreetly around the corner to see the gunmen were aiming at the zombies everywhere, buying them at least a few moments.

  He aimed and
fired, hitting one of the closest men in the chest, dropping him to the ground. “They’re following us for sure, now,” he muttered, and then clapped Miles on the back.

  The duo raced off, leaving the gunmen to fight off the zombies and then come chasing after them. They spotted the school in the distance, about fifty yards away past another row of houses. There was another horde past it, shambling towards all the noise, so both men pumped their legs hard to beat the undead to their target.

  They ran as hard as they could, and the gunfire began to die down in the background. That put them on the clock, and their chests heaved and lungs burned as they sprinted towards the school.

  When they reached the side that faced the neighborhood, they each picked a window, using the butt ends of their rifles to smash the glass. They cleared out the shards and quickly leapt inside a classroom.

  Coleman stuck by his window as Miles swept the room. He listened for movement as he moved quickly and purposefully towards the door, creaking it open and looking into the hallway. There was a glass wall at the front of the building, with several zombies milling about outside, but the hallway itself was empty.

  “Hallway is clear,” he reported as he ducked back inside. “And we have reinforcements out front.”

  “How many?” Coleman asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Miles peeked out again. “Half dozen immediately, god only knows after that,” he replied.

  “Door?” Coleman asked.

  Miles shook his head. “Just like a fire extinguisher,” he said with a grin. “In case of emergency, break glass.”

  His partner smiled as Miles returned to the window, and they exchanged a fist bump before taking up defensive positions at their windows.

  “So how do you want to play it?” Coleman asked.

  Miles checked his ammo. He was down to ten shots in his rifle. “Gonna have to get them real close if I’m gonna shoot them,” he replied, shaking his head. “Can’t afford to miss too many more times.”

  Coleman checked his rifle, counting only six shots left. “Same here,” he said.

  “I say we draw them in,” Miles suggested, “get to another classroom down the hall, then shoot past them and bring in reinforcements.”