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

by Slaton, Derek

  “So when are we leaving?” Coleman asked, that usual brightness gone from his tone.

  The Captain hung his head. “We got about eighteen minutes to get our stuff and go.”

  “Fuck,” Miles breathed.

  The trio stood in stunned silence for a few moments, and then finally Coleman snapped his fingers.

  “Alright, let's get our shit, then,” he declared forcefully. “Nothing like kicking off another adventure!”

  Terrell sighed, though he appreciated the enthusiasm. “That’s way too positive of an attitude right now.”

  Coleman chuckled and patted him on the back, and the three defeated men went to secure their gear for their new journey.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  An hour later, the Boss sat on a bench in the center of town, eating a plate of food prepared by June and Ruth, who sat tensely by their fire.

  “Ladies, I have to admit, this here is some damn fine southern cuisine,” he declared. “If my grandmother were still around, I’m sure she’d be pestering you for the recipe. Which is all the more impressive, given your limited cooking options.”

  The two ladies didn’t talk, simply sitting in stunned silence. One of the Boss’ guards approached from behind them, carrying an assault rifle.

  “We’re looking good, Boss,” he said. “Already ran one load over to Benson, and getting another one packed up now.”

  The Boss nodded. “Good, good,” he said. “About how much longer do you need?”

  “Shouldn’t be any more than a couple of hours,” the man replied. “They had quite the stockpile, and given the fragility of a lot of it we-”

  His leader waved his hand to stop him from talking. “You ain’t gotta explain it to me son,” he said dismissively, “I’m good with a couple of hours.”

  As he started to head away, the Boss whistled to get his attention.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, can you please escort these two ladies to town?” he asked. “Set them up in a nice house. Can’t afford to lose cooks as good as these.”

  The man nodded and gently prodded June and Ruth up off of their bench, ushering them towards his truck. The Boss finished his meal and tossed the plate onto the grass as Tommy approached, fiddling with his notebook.

  “What do you say, Tommy?” the Boss asked.

  His subordinate nodded. “Just heard from Marco, his team successfully diverted the horde away from town,” he reported. “He should be here any minute.”

  “That is fantastic news!” The Boss declared. “How are we looking with the civilian draft as it were?”

  Tommy checked his notes. “We have twenty-eight people that will be useful in town, either as front line fighters or those with specialties,” he replied. “Everybody else would be a drain on our resources.”

  “Make that thirty,” the Boss added. “I just sent the two country cooking chefs back. Food’s just too damn good.”

  “Thirty it is,” Tommy replied, scribbling away. “We have plenty of housing, so that won’t be a problem.”

  The Boss nodded and pointed a finger at him. “I knew I could count on you, buddy.”

  “Do you know where Xavier is?” Tommy asked. “He had asked me for an update on moving people to Benson, and I was going to break the bad news to him that we've taken everybody we’re going to take.”

  The Boss smugly smiled and pointed behind him. About ten feet away from the bench lay Xavier, dead on the ground from a bullet wound to the head.

  “I kinda broke that news to him a little while ago, and he didn’t exactly take it too well,” he said casually. “It took a little convincing on my part, but he finally saw it from my point of view.”

  Tommy shrugged, but before he could respond, the front gate opened up. They turned and saw the large diversion bomb rolling in with a few SUVs.

  “Looks like Marco is here,” he said.

  The Boss waved him off. “If you wouldn’t mind sending him my way, I would appreciate it,” he said. “Oh, and since I’m the sporting type, tell the people who are being left behind that we’re detonating that thing in two hours, so if they want to flee, they’d better get a move on.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, and see if you can find some lawn chairs to sit around it, just in case some of them want to take the easy way out. Nothing wrong with being comfortable on your way out.”

  “Will do, Boss,” Tommy replied, and scurried away to do his job.

  The Boss leaned back on the bench, watching the town being cleaned out by his men. A few moments later, Marco approached, flanked by a few of his team.

  “Good job on that horde,” the Boss commended as he stood up to greet them.

  Marco motioned to the convoy with a muscular arm, standing tall in his military fatigues. “Thank you, Boss,” he said stiffly. “Would you like us to start prepping the bomb for detonation?”

  “No, I have a much more important mission for you,” the Boss replied. “You and your men are going on a hunt. The three soldiers from this town that have caused us so many problems the last couple of weeks headed south of here an hour ago. I want you to track them and eliminate them in any way you see fit.” He grinned. “Although if you want to make them suffer a bit, I’ll consider it a bonus.”

  “Do they have a destination?” Marco asked.

  The Boss shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, however they were dumb enough to take one of our trucks.”

  Marco smirked. “If they are that stupid, they shouldn’t be too difficult to take out,” he drawled.

  The Boss’ brow furrowed. “They made a mistake, but don’t underestimate them,” he said formally.

  “I won’t,” Marco assured him.

  “Good,” his leader replied, smiling again. “Now, Tommy has set you up with a proper load out, so you’ll have everything you need.”

  Marco nodded. “Tracker?”

  “Set up in all four vehicles,” The Boss said.

  “I’ll get it done, Boss,” Marco promised.

  The Boss clapped him on the back. “Was never a doubt in my mind that you would.”

  He turned towards the town as his men went off like busy little bees, beaming with pride that Clinton had been checked off of his to-do list.

  END

  BOOK 11: CAROLINA FRONT - PT 7

  BY DEREK SLATON

  © 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +21

  Terrell sat by the window of a small rundown motel, peering out into the darkness. It had only been a few hours since they’d been forced to leave Clinton by the Boss. He couldn’t dwell on it too much, however, since it wasn’t the first time in his career that he had been forced out of a bad situation.

  As he stared outside at the dimly lit moonlit street of the tiny town, he allowed his mind to wander, and naturally it turned back to Walter. Losing the kid due to his own stupidity. He reached for his gun, checking to make sure it was loaded. That was a mistake he would never make again.

  As Terrell put down the weapon, he noticed movement outside, a couple of shambling figures about twenty yards away.

  No matter where we go, these things are always there, he thought bitterly, and got up from his seat. He headed to the door and unlatched the deadbolt.

  The click roused Coleman, who had been crashed out on the king-sized bed next to Miles, who continued to snore loudly.

  “Everything okay, Cap?” Coleman asked, voice still thick with sleep.

  Terrell nodded. “Yeah, just a couple of strays.”

  “Need some help?” his friend asked, rubbing his eyes.

  The Captain shook his head. “Nah, I’m good,” he said. “You get some rest.” Terrell gently opened and shut the door behind him, walking out towards the parking lot. His light footsteps were enough to excite the ghouls working their way towards him. They moaned, opening their mouths with hunger, stretching their arms towards their fresh meal.

  Terrell casually approached the first one, a young pallid figure in tattered bloody jeans and a t-shirt, kic
king it squarely in the chest and knocking it to the ground. He pulled his knife from its sheath and slammed it down into the skull of the other one, a heavyset blonde that looked like it had been in its fifties when it died.

  He watched emotionlessly as what had once been a woman collapsed to the ground in a heap. He was just numb to it all. After a few seconds of staring, he heard the other creature starting to get up. Moving without a sense of urgency, Terrell pulled the knife from the first creature and slammed it through the eye socket of the second.

  He glanced around the dimly lit parking lot, searching for any other movement. When he was confident there was done, he pulled his knife, wiped it on the now-still corpse, and headed back inside.

  As he quietly closed the door behind him, Coleman took a sip from a lukewarm bottle of water, sitting in the chair Terrell had previously occupied while they slept.

  “Looking pretty casual out there, Cap,” Coleman said softly.

  Terrell shrugged. “They were pretty dinged up, so not much of a threat.”

  “Still,” his friend dragged out the word, “it’s not like you to take your time with them.”

  The Captain nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t respond, heading to the window and taking a seat opposite him. “You’ve still got another forty-five minutes, why don’t you get some rest?” he asked.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Coleman replied, shaking his head. “Not really sleeping anyway.”

  As if on cue, Miles let out a loud snort and rolled over in his sleep, pulling the covers into a cocoon around his body.

  Terrell raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem to be a problem for him,” he said.

  “Some people are special,” Coleman replied.

  They stared out the window for a time, side by side, the silence stretching out, and not into comfortable companionship.

  “So,” Coleman finally said, picking at a loose thread in his pants, “you wanna talk about it?”

  Terrell shook his head immediately. “Not really,” he replied. “Would rather focus on what’s ahead of us.”

  “So what is ahead of us, Cap?” Coleman asked.

  The Captain chuckled darkly. “Hell if I know, buddy.”

  “Well, we know for sure heading north is out,” Coleman said with a sigh.

  “At least until we get an army big enough to wipe the smile off of that smug asshole’s face,” Terrell added, clenching a fist.

  Coleman shrugged. “Well, let’s start finding us one, then,” he suggested.

  “Surprisingly upbeat of you,” Terrell replied, not meeting his gaze.

  His companion leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I know,” he admitted, “but didn’t see any coffee, so I gotta do something to wake up.”

  “How about a short walk?” Terrell asked, getting to his feet.

  Coleman cocked his head. “Where we going?”

  “Hotel office,” the Captain replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “They might have a map with all of the tourist trap brochures.”

  Coleman motioned to Miles, still sound asleep in his burrito. “What about him?”

  “Eh, he’ll be fine,” Terrell replied, waving a hand at the bed.

  He led them out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them, and then headed up the sidewalk towards the office. They kept a watch on their surroundings for movement, but didn’t see anything.

  Six doors down, the front office was busted in, with dried blood stains around the frame. Terrell shook his head at the sight, knowing that the manager probably hadn’t fared too well from this attack. Just to be safe, he drew his knife before stepping inside, doing a quick sweep to make sure it was secure.

  The front area had a small coffee station and a rack of tourist trap brochures. He peeked behind the counter, seeing bloodstains on the other side, but no body. He tugged on the door leading to the back office to make sure it was secured.

  “Problems?” Coleman asked.

  Terrell shook his head. “If there is, it ain’t getting out,” he said.

  His companion reached the rack and scanned the brochures. “Water park, outlet mall… oh, hey Cap, here we go, gold mining!”

  “Hell yeah,” Terrell replied with a laugh, “let’s go strike it rich. Retire to some nice deserted island.”

  Coleman shook his head with a grin. “Deserted?” he asked. “I was kind of hoping for a full service bar and maybe a bikini clad lady or twelve.”

  “A man can dream,” Terrell replied wistfully.

  Coleman continued to scan the rack of brochures, finally finding a map of the Carolinas. He set it down on the table where the coffee would normally have been, and spread it out. Terrell leaned against the counter and watched as his partner traced his finger along the highway leading south out of Clinton.

  “Okay, best guess is that we are somewhere south of Elizabethtown,” Coleman mused. “I don’t think this place is big enough to actually have a spot on the map.”

  Terrell nodded. “Explains why the place is empty.”

  “So, looks like we’re about forty miles or so away from the South Carolina State Line,” Coleman said, leaning back. “To be honest, with where we are and having the north cut off, we don’t really have a lot of options.”

  The Captain chewed his lip for a moment as he studied the map where his friend was pointing. “We’re not too far away from Wilmington, which has got to be a total shitshow,” he murmured.

  “Without a doubt.” Coleman nodded. “I’m pretty sure some of our boys were casting off from there.”

  Terrell sighed. “Which means locals and everybody else within a hundred miles were going there to hitch a ride.” He shuddered.

  “Safe to say that’s out as an option,” Coleman said.

  The Captain scanned the map some more. “We aren’t too far away from the interstate,” he said. “Could always head up to Charlotte and see what Kyle is up to.”

  “Bastard is probably lounging around in the stadium, playing Xbox on the jumbotron,” Coleman said dryly, and they shared a chuckle at the mental image.

  “Only other major cities on the map are Columbia and Charleston,” Terrell continued, “both of which are major hauls.”

  Coleman nodded. “One’s the capitol and the other is a port town, so not really a fan of either option.”

  “So no bright ideas?” Terrell asked.

  His friend looked back over at the rack, prompting an exasperated laugh from the Captain. After studying for a moment, he picked out a brochure for the South Carolina Lowcountry.

  “I mean, we could just head to the Lowcountry,” he suggested.

  Terrell raised an eyebrow. “Lowcountry?” he asked.

  Coleman scanned the brochure. “Says here it’s a laid back small town experience that provides cocktails, fishing, and a relaxing lifestyle,” he reported.

  Terrell grabbed the brochure, looking at pictures of men fishing, people on patios drinking, and a crawfish festival. “I wouldn’t say no to some crawfish,” he quipped.

  “I figure if we head that way, we’ll be in the sticks,” Coleman continued, “so resistance will be minimal.”

  Terrell sighed and set the brochure down on the counter. “Lowcountry it is, then,” he declared. “Can’t be any worse than where we currently are.”

  “Or where we’ve been,” Coleman added.

  The Captain took a deep breath. “Now, the next question is,” he began, “do we actually have the goods to get us down there?”

  “SUV has about a half a tank left, so we’ll have to stop,” Coleman said. “Got plenty of food and water, probably last us a good ten days or so if we’re careful.”

  Terrell cocked his head. “And ammo?”

  “We have about a hundred and twenty rounds for our assault rifles,” Coleman replied, wrinkling his nose. “Another sixty for our hand guns. And I’ve got twenty rounds for my sniper rifle.”

  The Captain sighed. “Well, as long as the trouble is minimal like it is here, then we’ll be fine.” />
  As the last word came out of his mouth, he caught movement outside from the corner of his eye. When he peered out the window, he saw a figure moving quickly, darting behind bushes across the street.

  “Lean back out of sight,” he demanded.

  Coleman quickly ducked down, leaning back against the wall. “What is it, Cap?” he asked.

  Terrell continued to stare out the window, looking for more movement. After several moments, he saw nothing. “I think we got company,” he murmured.

  “Zombies?” Coleman asked.

  Terrell shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Shit,” his partner replied, “my guns are in the truck.”

  “There are a couple of assault rifles in the room,” Terrell replied, but that didn’t help them immediately either. He turned around and headed for the door leading to the back office. He turned the knob as he drew his knife, and threw it open.

  On the ground was a body that looked like it had been chewed up by a horde. It struggled to move, but there wasn’t enough of its limbs to do it. He drove the knife down into the back of its head.

  “We gotta get back to the room,” he said.

  Coleman started for him, but the Captain put up a hand.

  “This is gonna sound crazy,” he said slowly, “but I need you to stay here.”

  His partner gaped at him. “For what?” he demanded. “I don’t have a weapon!”

  Terrell looked around behind the counter, reaching under and feeling around beneath the till. “Jackpot,” he said, and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun, tossing it to him.

  Coleman checked it, and made sure it was loaded. “It’s gonna be point blank or nothing with this,” he said.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Terrell replied, and threw him a wink before heading to the back of the office. He slid open the small window on the back wall, and slithered through it to the back of the building.

  He stayed pinned against the outer wall as he headed for his room, counting the windows as he went. When he reached the sixth one, he jimmied open the lock on the window with his knife, and then pulled himself through, crawling onto the bathroom sink.