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

by Slaton, Derek

  The sniper chuckled. “You seem like you’re having a good day, Keith.” He took a deep whiff of the musky marijuana-tinged scent of the man.

  “Always, brother,” Keith replied. “Can’t have a bad day when you have the herbal supply that I have. Best in the northwest for sure.”

  Kowalski motioned to the building. “What kind of shop is this?”

  “This is Keith’s Dispensary, home of the buy one get one free edible brownie,” the hippie replied proudly, spreading his arms.

  The sniper’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m definitely doing some shopping before I leave.”

  “Well come on down!” Keith replied, waving for him to come forward. “I got everything you’ve ever heard of, and a few things you wish you’d heard of.”

  Kowalski shook his head. “Unfortunately I’m gonna have to put a pin in that,” he admitted. “Gotta lay down some cover so my friends can take care of that infestation problem at your front door.”

  The hippie furrowed his brow for a moment, as if confused, and then realized what he was talking about. “Right on, man,” he said. “I’m gonna let you do what you need to do. While you do what you doing, I’ll make you up a little care package. If you trust my judgement and all.”

  “Nobody else I’d trust,” Kowalski replied.

  Keith’s face lit up and he reached out and hugged the sniper tightly.

  Kowalski blinked down at him, letting out an awkward laugh, and patted him on the back. “All right… you’re my man, Keith,” he said, gently pushing him back.

  “I’m also Jenny’s man,” the hippie replied, holding up a finger, “who’s downstairs. But don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll share me with you.” He winked and then clambered back down the ladder into the store.

  The sniper stood there for a moment, staring at the hole, bewildered, unsure if the hippie was joking or not. The sound of a loud horn bleating from a block away snapped him back into reality.

  “Right, zombies,” he muttered, and then ran to the back of the store, pulling out his rifle to do a scan of the immediate area. Outside of a few stragglers, he didn’t see anything of note. He ran to the far side of the building, looking out, and only seeing a handful of creatures that way as well. “Holy shit, we may have dodged a bullet here.”

  He waved to Copeland, who was outside of the van with Johnson, throwing open the back door to await the creatures moving towards them. As they handled the bulk of the horde, Kowalski moved to the back of the store, picking a target and firing, taking the head clean off.

  He grinned into the scope. “This isn’t gonna take long at all.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Copeland and Johnson stood in the back of the moving van, waiting for the zombies to reach them. The front edge of the horde was about ten yards away, shambling ever closer as they readied their metal spikes.

  “If you told me three months ago that I’d be standing in the back of a moving truck ramming metal spikes through the heads of rotting corpses, I can safely say I wouldn’t have believed you,” Johnson said brightly.

  Copeland raised an eyebrow. “While that’s true, I find it odd you don’t seem too upset at it.”

  “Three months ago I was sweating my balls off in some godforsaken desert,” Johnson explained, “not knowing if the guy with the push cart on the corner was trying to sell coconut juice or blow up a city block. Here it’s nice and cool, and the enemy just walks right up to me, begging to be put down.” He delivered the first strike, driving his weapon through the eye of the closest creature. He quickly pulled it back, and the ghoul dropped to the ground.

  Copeland nodded thoughtfully. “Something to be said about a straight-up fight,” he agreed, executing a similar quick strike to a zombie closest to him. “Plus, I don’t go to bed every night finding sand in places I didn’t know sand could get in to.” He struck twice in quick succession, dropping two more creatures.

  “Hell, I’m pretty sure I still have some sand in my boots from my last tour,” Johnson added, taking out two more.

  “Lucky it was just your boot.” The Sergeant dryly replied.

  The duo shared a laugh as they delivered vicious head strikes one by one, dropping zombies left and right without putting themselves in any danger.

  After a good twenty minutes, they were able to put down the last few creatures. Copeland raised his hand to his eyes, squinting up at Kowalski, who waved at them from the roof.

  “How we looking?” he called.

  The sniper grinned. “Might have a couple of stragglers wander up in the next fifteen or twenty minutes,” he replied. “Other than that, I took out most of them.”

  “How many survivors you got?” the Sergeant asked.

  Kowalski jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Got two live ones.”

  “Okay, I’ll radio in and meet you inside,” Copeland replied. “Start getting them packed up so we can move out.”

  The sniper saluted him. “Yes, sir.” He disappeared atop the roof.

  Copeland pulled out his radio, and turned the dial. “Captain Kersey, come in,” he said.

  “Kersey here,” the Captain came back immediately. “What’s the situation, Sergeant?”

  Copeland scanned the pile of corpses below. “Exterior of the airport is clear,” he reported. “Two hangars left to be checked. We retrieved two survivors from the town.”

  “Good job,” Kersey replied. “I’ll arrange transport to meet you at the airport in thirty. Will that give you enough time to clear the remaining structures?”

  The Sergeant nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Is Kowalski nearby?” Kersey asked.

  Copeland squinted to see if Kowalski was still on the roof, but he couldn’t see him. “No, sir, he’s getting the civilians ready for transport,” he said.

  “If you would, please instruct him to ride back with the survivors to the base in Spokane,” the Captain instructed. “They’re having some issues in Ellensburg and I’d like him to lead the group in. His point man is Corporal Steed.”

  Copeland cocked his head. “Sir, I’d be more than happy to head this mission up myself.”

  “I know you would Sergeant,” Kersey replied apologetically, “but I’m supposed to be on a conference call with the President in a few hours and the last thing I need is a doctor yelling at me for letting you back into action against his orders.”

  Copeland barked a laugh. “Yes sir, understood.”

  “I’ll see you when you get back to town,” the Captain replied. “Kersey out.”

  The Sergeant put his radio away, and took a deep breath. “Come on, let’s go see what’s taking them so long.” He and Johnson hopped down from the truck and skirted the mountain of dead zombies, heading to the front door of the business.

  A wafer thin blonde leaned in the doorway, eyes pink and glazed. “Look, babe!” she squealed. “More friends!” She waved them in, and twirled in a circle, motioning to the counter.

  Keith stood behind it, filling up a plastic bag for Kowalski, who leaned on the bamboo structure casually as he pointed to various strains of weed in the glass containers behind him.

  “Oh, and can I get some of the golden there?” he asked.

  Keith winked at him. “Good eye my man, primo stuff!” He took a huge handful and tossed it in a bag before sealing it up and handing it over.

  Copeland crossed his arms. “Private, may I ask what in the world you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “Oh… uh…” Kowalski stammered, standing at attention. “Sorry Sarge, I was just… procuring… necessities?” He winced.

  Copeland cocked his head. “And you didn’t think to take my order before you did?”

  The Privates stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “What?” the Sergeant replied sheepishly. “Even a badass like myself needs to relax every now and then.”

  The soldiers burst into laughter, Jenny and Keith joining in, though they didn’t really know why.

  “I like your friend, Kowalski,”
Keith drawled, wagging a finger in Copeland’s general direction. “I’ll get you something special, too!” He ducked behind the counter, pulling out a fresh bag and picking out some glass jars from the wall.

  “What did the Captain have to say?” Kowalski asked.

  Copeland inclined his head to him. “He’s got a transport coming in for the civilians,” he said. “And you.”

  The sniper wrinkled his nose. “Oh, son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Now what?”

  “I’ll brief you on the drive over,” the Sergeant replied.

  Keith popped back up from behind the counter, shoving more little baggies into a big bag, and handing it over to the burly Sergeant.

  “Thank you, sir,” Copeland said with a grin. “If you want to get your things, we need to get moving.”

  Keith clucked his tongue and gave him a one-fingered salute. “I can dig it, man,” he said. “Babe, grab your bags, we’re going on a trip!”

  Jenny let out an excited squeal and skipped off to the back room, Keith stumbling after her.

  “Boys, see if you can wrangle them up,” Copeland instructed as he slipped his purchase into his pocket. “We leave in five. I’ll keep an eye out in the meantime.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Copeland, Kowalski, and Johnson walked up to the third hangar, knocking on the door and listening for sound, not hearing anything.

  “You got anything?” the sniper asked.

  Johnson shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “It would certainly be nice if this one was clear too,” Copeland said, and then nodded to Kowalski.

  The sniper threw open the door and backed up, the trio waiting for a ghoul to appear, but nothing did. Johnson slipped inside first, sweeping the immediate area.

  “Clear,” he said.

  The others headed in behind him and Copeland shoved open the big sliding door, revealing an empty hangar, with the exception of a trio of planes on the far side.

  Kowalski let out a low whistle. “Looks like we have our own budget air force,” he declared.

  “I know you’re joking,” Copeland said as he approached the sniper to appraise the vehicles. “But we can legit drop forty men from the sky with the planes we have. Get the right men, and you could cause a hell of a ruckus.”

  Johnson nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  They turned and headed back outside, strolling for the SUV. Copeland shook his head as they got closer and saw nothing but fog inside. He opened the door and smoke billowed out into the air, revealing Jenny and Keith giggling in the backseat together.

  “Well, Johnson,” Copeland said with a laugh, “looks like we’re hot boxing it back to town.”

  The Private shook his head. “Hope they found more than those powdered breakfast foods,” he said. “Doesn’t exactly sound like good food for the munchies.”

  “Oh man, here you go, bud,” Keith said, and reached into his bag, producing a few chocolate bars and a bag of chips. He held out the packages, and Johnson accepted them with a wide grin.

  “You’re all right there, Keith,” he declared.

  The stoner smiled and nodded, leaning back in his seat. Before anyone could say anything else, helicopter blades smacking air sounded in the distance.

  “That sounds like your ride, Kowalski,” Copeland said.

  The sniper adjusted the strap for his sniper rifle. “You two had better live up your day off for me,” he said, pointing at each soldier in turn. “Since I’m working, I have to live vicariously through you two. I mean it, I want stories of feet propped up and beers drained.”

  Copeland laughed and gave him a fist bump. “I’ll do you proud, bud.”

  The chopper landed about forty yards away, blades still spinning as it waited for them. Kowalski waved to the hippie couple, and when they stepped out of the SUV, he leaned in.

  “Keep your heads down when we get to the chopper,” he instructed. “Get inside, get buckled up, and hang on!”

  They gave him lazy thumbs up and followed him across the runway. He opened the door and they hopped in, getting themselves buckled in, giggling all the way. Kowalski skirted around and climbed up into the passenger seat, happy to see the pilot was Benny, his favorite cranky Vietnam era war pilot.

  He put on his headset and strapped himself in. “Hey Benny, how the hell are you, man?”

  “Do I know you?” the pilot asked.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Kowalski!” the sniper replied, pointing to himself. “Rescued you from the airport a few days ago?”

  Benny rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, the guy that pulled me out of my easygoing retirement,” he drawled.

  “Oh, damn man,” Kowalski stammered, blinking at him. I’m sorry, I just-”

  The pilot burst into laughter, shaking his head. “I’m just fucking with you, man,” he barked. “Glad to get back into the sky, especially since nobody is shooting at me this time!” He winked at his passenger. “Tell your friends to hang on to their asses, because here we go!”

  Kowalski turned to give the hippies a thumbs up, and blinked in shock when he saw them leaning on each other, fast asleep. “Man, that has got to be some good shit,” he muttered, and then gave his thumbs up to the pilot instead. “We’re good!” he declared.

  Benny nodded and lifted off, heading towards the airport in Spokane.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kowalski looked out over the infield at the Spokane airport, studying the hive of activity. There were thousands of troops broken into groups, going through drills. Large tents dotted the landscape, serving as makeshift barracks. A handful of attack helicopters sat in the far corner.

  “Man, they’ve been busy this past week,” the sniper mused.

  Benny nodded. “This shit has gotten crazy, man!” he declared. “Same thing over at the military base nearby. Wall to wall man and machinery. Not sure exactly what you boys are planning, but it’s gotta be big.”

  “I’ll level with you,” Kowalski replied with a deep intake of breath, “I talk to the Captain every day and he’s clued into everything. I don’t even think they know what they’re doing yet.”

  Benny pursed his lips. “Well, if that don’t fill you with confidence, I don’t know what will.”

  “See, military hasn’t changed all that much since your day, has it?” the sniper quipped.

  The pilot barked a laugh. “Hell no, it hasn’t!” he agreed. “Glad to be on the civilian side of things this time around.”

  “Sure you don’t want to trade spots with me?” Kowalski asked as they touched down gently on the tarmac.

  Benny smirked at him. “Get the fuck outta my chopper.”

  “Hey, I got a personal question for you,” the sniper began as he unclipped his seatbelt.

  The pilot jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “No, I’m not babysitting these two.”

  Kowalski laughed, shaking his head. “We got ‘em here, so we did our job. They’re someone else’s problem now,” he said.

  “So, what’s your question?” Benny asked, cocking his head.

  The sniper grinned. “Do you… partake of the herb?”

  “You mean smoke pot?” the pilot asked, blinking at him. “Fuck man, I’m in my sixties, everything hurts, and I still have ‘Nam flashbacks. I take everything I can fucking get.”

  Kowalski chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the plastic bags from Kieth and handing it over. “Just don’t tell anybody where you got it from,” he warned. “Although, if you do babysit these two, there’s a good chance they’ll give you a little more.”

  “Well call me Suzy and give me refrigerator privileges,” Benny gushed as he took the bag with wide eyes, “cause I’m a babysitter now.”

  Kowalski cracked up and shook the pilot’s hand before slipping out of the helicopter. He looked around the airfield, and headed towards a couple of people standing around the attack choppers.

  He let out a low whistle as he admired the machinery. “Man, that’s some heavy duty stuff you got the
re,” he said.

  “Full payload can level a couple of city blocks and have enough firepower left to take out a platoon,” the pilot boasted, patting the side of the vehicle.

  Kowalski laughed. “Glad you’re on our side,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You should be,” the pilot replied with a smirk.

  The sniper cocked his head. “What’s the range on these things?” he asked.

  “About three hundred miles, give or take,” came the reply.

  Kowalski pursed his lips, face falling. “Damn, sorry to hear that.”

  “Why?” the pilot asked, brow furrowing.

  “Because we’re going to battle right at about three hundred miles away from here,” Kowalski explained. “So unless you’re doing suicide runs, I don’t think you’ll be doing us a whole lot of good.”

  The pilot crossed his arms. “You do know we can land on carriers, right?” he asked haughtily. “And there’s water next to Seattle?”

  Kowalski blinked at him, realizing the depth of his own moronic brain. “So. Anyway…” he stammered, trying desperately to change the subject. “Do you have any idea where Corporal Steed is?”

  The pilot pointed to an enclosed tent about a hundred and fifty yards away. “Try the command center there,” he instructed. “If he isn’t in there, somebody will know where to point you.”

  “Appreciate it,” Kowalski replied, and hurried away towards the tent.

  The scale of everything overwhelmed him, the men running about, doing drills, loading stuff up into trucks.

  If those at the top are smart enough to listen to the Cap, he thought, we might actually get through this.

  Kowalski reached the command tent and ducked inside, running right into an MP standing guard.

  “State your business,” the MP demanded, holding out a hand.

  The sniper blinked at him. “I’m Private Kowalski and-”

  “Sir, this is a command tent,” the MP cut in. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Kowalski straightened his shoulders. “I’m Private Kowalski, and Captain Kersey sent me from the front lines to rendezvous with Corporal Steed,” he amended.