He stumbled on the porcelain, but made his fall as gentle as he could, catching himself on the toilet. His feet hit the linoleum with a light thud, and he froze, listening. The only noise was Miles’ muffled snoring through the door, and a smile curled his lips at the sound. Snoring meant living.
He got up off of the ground, and peeked through the crack in the bathroom door. He could heart footsteps on the pavement now, and sprung to action. He darted across the room towards his gun that was propped up behind the door, but as soon as he reached the bed, gunfire erupted, ripping through the front window.
He hit the floor, and Miles snorted awake.
“What the fuck, guys?” he barked, still half-asleep.
Terrell reached up and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him down onto the floor with him.
“What the hell is going on?!” Miles demanded, eyes wide now.
“Somebody doesn’t like us!” Terrell bellowed.
Miles’ mouth opened and closed. “Uh, ya think?!” he finally cried.
The gunfire subsided before there was a loud banging on the front door. The first hit destroyed the door handle, but the deadbolt held. Terrell immediately dove for it, making a play for the guns. Before he could reach it, the door exploded inwards, but he threw his body against it, slamming it shut again.
He quickly grabbed the rifles and slid them back to Miles, who scrambled to aim at the door. Their attackers fired through the cheap wood, forcing Terrell to dive for cover to the side. They kicked the door in and Miles squeezed off a couple of three-round bursts, unfortunately only hitting one man in the arm. Somebody else grabbed the man and pulled him aside to safety.
“Clear!” Miles cried, and Terrell slid across the floor, slamming the door shut and flipping the emergency frame lock to hold it closed, at least for the time being.
He grabbed the other assault rifle in the corner, and took up position at the window. As he peered out, he saw the injured man being carried back across the street by his partner, another man breaking cover from the bushes to help them.
“How many we dealing with?” Miles asked as he flattened himself against the other side of the window.
Terrell shook his head. “At least half a dozen, probably more,” he replied.
“Shit,” Miles muttered. “Where’s Coleman?”
“Office,” the Captain replied.
Miles took a deep breath, shaking the last of his grogginess from his body. “What’s the play?”
“Still working that one out,” Terrell admitted, “but one thing’s for sure. We gotta get to the SUV.”
He looked out the window again, seeing a trio of men come up from the right. He aimed and fired through the shattered glass, sending half a dozen bullets downrange. He missed, and they returned fire, shattering more of what was left of the window above him as they darted for cover.
“That’s three more,” he said.
Miles pursed his lips. “You want me to go out the back and try and flank them?” he asked.
“Nah, I want to make them think I’m only focused on the right side,” Terrell replied. He glared out the window, seeing lots of movement across the street. He squeezed off a few more shots straight ahead and to the right, acting like he was ignoring the left flank.
Several shots from the distance came flying through the window, some of them damaging the SUV outside.
“You got the keys?” Terrell asked.
Miles patted his pockets, and finally pulled them out. “Right here!”
“Okay, when we hear a shotgun go off, get to the truck,” the Captain instructed. “I’ll give as much cover fire-” He popped up and fired to the right as he spotted more movement. “As much cover fire as I can. Don’t care where you get, just get us the hell away from here.”
More shots poured into the building, and he returned fire, but then the gun clicked empty.
“Dammit, I’m out,” Terrell said. “Ammo’s in the truck.” He slid the gun over to Miles, who swapped him his still mostly loaded rifle. Terrell immediately went back on patrol, waiting for someone to move.
Just up the sidewalk to the left, Coleman watched from inside the office. Two men came out from cover across the street, sprinting across the road and taking up position by the building. The second one tapped the leader on the shoulder to move up.
As they headed away from him, Coleman darted out from the office, running up behind them. His footsteps were loud enough that the one in the back turned around, but all he could do was widen his eyes before Coleman blew his head open like a cantaloupe with an M80 stuffed inside.
The soldier immediately rushed forward as the other enemy turned to fire, and he grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it away from him as a few shots went wild. Coleman delivered a vicious throat strike, sending the man to the ground. He held the weapon as the gun fell and sprinted for the SUV.
Bullets whizzed by him, prompting him to fire wildly as he ran. “Let’s move, Cap!” he screamed.
Terrell burst from the motel door, opening fire at the figures in the darkness. Several muzzle flashes emerged and bullets flew past them. One of them grazed his arm as he ran to the backseat.
“Motherfucker!” he hissed in pain.
As Terrell and Coleman laid down suppressing fire, Miles leapt into the driver’s seat. The other two dove into the vehicle as the engine sprang to life.
“We’re moving!” Miles warned and flung the SUV in reverse, making a hard turn onto the road.
Terrell fired wildly out the back window, hoping it would pin the enemies down. Bullets peppered the vehicle from the side, and Coleman fired over the Captain through the side window.
“Stay low!” he barked.
Miles dropped the SUV into gear and sped off into the night. After a few moments of wild driving, the firing stopped, and the trio breathed a tentative sigh of relief.
“What in the holy fuck was that?” Coleman demanded.
Terrell shook his head as he sat front ways in his seat. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Hopefully it was just some locals that didn’t like the fact we were in their territory.”
“Well if it wasn’t locals, then who the hell was it?” Miles asked.
The other two shared a concerned look, the thought dawning on them at the same time that it very well could have been the Boss’ men. Miles glanced in the rearview at their silence, and then had the same thought.
“Oh, motherfucker,” he spat. “We left, what more do they want?”
Terrell shook his head. “Same thing we do,” he replied, “revenge. We put a lot of their men down.”
“Add one more to the list,” Coleman said bitterly.
“Shotgun work okay?” Terrell asked.
Coleman smirked. “I was like a goddamn magician, made my assistant’s head disappear.”
Terrell let out a dark laugh, shaking his head.
“Sorry to break this up,” Miles cut in, “but where are we going?”
Coleman sighed. “Good question.”
“Just head south and west, take back roads and side streets,” Terrell instructed. “If they’re following us, let’s make it difficult for them to track us.” He glanced at the clock that read 6:42. “Sun will start peeking up soon. Once it does, we’ll find a place to lay low.”
Miles nodded as he took another turn, driving down a vacant darkened road. Terrell leaned back in his seat, touching the light wound on his arm.
“Hit bad?” Coleman asked, brow furrowing.
The Captain shook his head. “Nah, just a graze,” he assured him. “Still, a little too close for comfort.”
CHAPTER TWO
Miles continued to drive along the back country roads as the sun came up. It had been a half an hour since the battle, but the boys were still on high alert. Terrell and Coleman kept watch at every cross street, looking for signs of movement.
“You got anything?” Coleman asked.
Terrell shook his head. “Haven’t seen another vehicle even, whether dr
iving or broken down.”
“We might actually be good, then,” Coleman replied.
Miles turned down another road, and spotted a large two-story farmhouse in the distance. “What do you say we stop and collect ourselves?” he asked. “Figure out where we’re going.”
“Maybe get lucky with the kitchen, too,” Coleman added.
Terrell sighed. “With the way our day started out, I’ll settle for some peace and quiet,” he admitted.
Miles found the driveway and slowly worked his way up to the house. Within twenty yards of the old building, he skidded to a stop. “Looks like we’re gonna have to work for it,” he muttered, and pointed to the front door.
There were eight zombies congregating there, shambling around each other.
“It’s just a handful, nothing too bad,” Coleman said.
Terrell nodded. “Well, let’s get it done, then.” He flipped open his door and hopped out, slinging his rifle over his shoulder before drawing his knife.
The other two joined him, following suit, and as they slammed the doors to the SUV, the zombies turned towards the trio, moaning excitedly. The boys moved a little closer.
The crowd around the door broke apart, but one stubborn zombie continued to bang on the door fiercely. Finally it realized its friends were gone, and turned around sharply, letting out a loud screech before tearing towards them.
“Runner!” Coleman cried, and dropped his knife on the ground in order to reach the rifle on his back. Just as he raised the weapon, the runner reached him, firing off a few shots but only striking the thing in the gut.
They tumbled to the ground, and Coleman struggled to keep its gnashing teeth away from him by holding its throat. “Get this fucker off of me!” he yelled.
Miles rushed over, grabbing the creature by the back of the collar and pulling it up, teeth snapping and clattering. Coleman grabbed his knife from beside him, stabbing upward and hitting the zombie underneath the jaw, the long blade piercing its brain.
“You all right?” Miles huffed as the body crumpled to the dirt.
Coleman sat up, examining his arms and hands, relieved when he saw no injury. “I’m good,” he said, and took his friend’s offered hand to get to his feet.
Terrell, meanwhile, walked towards the seven slower creatures, all moving towards him in a tight pack. He pulled out his handgun, stopping about ten yards from the group and opening fire.
He shot five deliberate bullets, dropping several of the ghouls with perfect headshots to thin the herd. With the danger reduced, he stepped forward and stabbed the remaining two in the face, eliminating the threat.
“You good, Coleman?” he asked as he cleaned his blade and sheathed it.
“Heart rate is a little fast,” Coleman admitted, “but other than that I’m good.”
Terrell nodded. “Good, because we need to clear the house,” he replied. “If there is a runner, then there’s a good chance there are survivors in there.”
“Let’s just hope they’re friendly,” Miles replied.
Terrell readied his rifle. “Just in case they aren’t,” he explained, and then led the trio to the door.
They moved like they were ready for combat, staying in formation and on high alert. When they reached the door, Terrell nodded to them to make sure they were ready, and then Coleman turned the knob.
It was locked, and he shook his head.
“Go,” Terrell said quietly. He took a step back and then delivered a forceful front kick to the old wooden door. It shattered the frame, the door flying back and slamming against the wall. The Captain rushed inside, gun aiming down the long hallway beside the stairs.
Miles followed him, covering the front room to the left, and Coleman in the rear, taking the right. When nothing jumped out at them, Terrell motioned for Miles to work his way up the stairs.
The other two did a quick sweep of the downstairs, finding it empty. Everything was covered in dust, with only the occasional ray of morning sunlight illuminating the area.
Miles slowly moved up the stairs, heading to a landing that stretched back towards the front of the house. He looked back at the dimly lit hallway behind him, a room on either side of the hall. He moved cautiously towards the first room, opening the door and springing inside.
As he swept the empty bedroom, footsteps clacked behind him. He turned just in time to see a short heavyset man in his thirties with balding black hair coming out of the bedroom across the hall, clothes stained in blood.
Miles aimed at him, and the man immediately dropped the knife he was holding and raised his arms, fat tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Please don’t shoot!” he sputtered. “Please! Don’t shoot!”
Miles slowly lowered his weapon, realizing he’d initially reacted as if the man was a zombie. “I’m not gonna hurt you, bud,” he said gently. “You’re safe now.”
The man sobbed, wiping a blob of snot away from his nose. He startled as Coleman and Terrell reached the top landing with their guns raised.
“We’re good up here,” Miles called, and at the sight of the man, both soldiers lowered their weapons.
“Anybody else up here?” Terrell asked.
The man shook his head violently. “No, it’s just me,” he was able to say before bursting into a fresh set of sobs, shoulder shaking uncontrollably. The trio gave him a moment to grieve, assuming the runner was his friend.
“Coleman, secure the door,” Terrell instructed. “Miles, bring our new friend here downstairs while I try and find us something from the kitchen.” He and Coleman headed off, and Miles slowly approached the devastated man.
“Come on,” he said gently, reaching out to take his arm. “Let’s get you downstairs. You’re okay now.”
The man gave a wet sniffle and nodded, letting his savior lead him down the hallway towards the stairs.
CHAPTER THREE
The man sat on the couch by the window, averting his eyes from the carnage out front, probably not wanting to see his dead friend. Coleman finished securing the door by dragging a nearby hutch in front of it, and Terrell entered holding a tray of glasses, a gallon of water, and some crackers.
“Slim pickings in there,” he announced, “but at least we ain’t going hungry.” He set down the tray on the coffee table and then handed out glasses and food, pouring himself some water before handing off the jug. “So, what’s your name?” he asked.
The guy stared off into space, still in a daze, so Terrell snapped his fingers in front of his face, snapping him back to the moment.
“What’s your name, man?” the Captain asked.
The man blinked at him. “Uh, Chucky,” he replied hoarsely. “My name is Chucky.” He wiped another glob of snot on his sleeve.
“Chucky, all right,” Terrell said, keeping his tone relaxed. “My name is Terrell, and this is Miles and Coleman.”
Chucky swallowed, motioning around the room. “Are… are you guys from the military?”
“We were before all of this started,” the Captain replied.
Chucky sniffled again and then picked at his frayed pants. “So… you’re good guys, right?”
Terrell and Coleman shared a glance at his naivety, and then the Captain shrugged. “That’s right buddy, we are.”
Chucky looked so relieved in that moment, and leaned forward to fill himself a glass of water before downing half of it in a single gulp. He tried to pass the jug to Miles, who motioned for him to refill his glass first, which he did.
“So,” the man continued as he caught his breath from his deep draught, “are you guys headed to Florence too?”
The trio exchanged a confused glance.
“What’s Florence?” Coleman asked.
Chucky furrowed his brow. “Florence, South Carolina,” he said. When they didn’t reply still, he continued, “The survivor camp that’s there?”
“Where did you hear about that?” Terrell prompted.
“Brian and I…” Chucky trailed off, his voice crac
king. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then continued, his voice trembling. “We’d been riding this thing out, just the two of us. This small little town just up the road called Emerson. It started out good because it was so isolated, but it didn’t take long for the food to run out. We didn’t know what we were going to do until we heard the broadcast from Florence.”
Miles leaned forward. “Broadcast? Did somebody hijack a radio station or something?” he asked.
“Not quite,” Chucky replied, shaking his head. “Brian’s dad had a Ham radio, and we’d pass the time talking with other survivors around the country. Hearing their stories made us thankful for our situation. Yesterday, however, we heard a recording, saying that there were a lot of survivors in Florence and that anybody who could hear the message was free to join them.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “And you believed them?”
Chucky blinked at him, looking dumbfounded. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked. “People are scared and they’re banding together. Why wouldn’t we want to be a part of that?”
Terrell gave Miles a warning look, and the latter leaned back in his seat, taking a long sip of water.
“Did they say anything else?” the Captain asked.
“No, it was a short message,” Chucky replied, shaking his head. “Just saying that it was a safe place for survivors. We went for it… and they got him.” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, and Terrell reached out to pat his shoulder.
“It’s okay, man,” the Captain said softly. “Brian would have been happy to know you’re safe with us.”
Chucky sniffled but smiled a little, nodding. After he settled in a bit, the trio of soldiers congregated at the front window.
“So, what do you guys think?” Terrell asked quietly.
Coleman took a deep breath. “If I were a betting man, I’d say it’s a trap.”
“Yeah, but what if it isn’t?” Miles asked.
“Wow, what a compelling counter argument,” Coleman said icily, rolling his eyes. “Were you in debate club or something?”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12 Page 29
