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

by Slaton, Derek

  The MP regarded him for a moment and then nodded. “Wait here.”

  As he walked off, Kowalski scanned the room. There were a few dozen desks set up, various charts dotting boards along the far side of the tent. People worked furiously, scribbling and calculating and leaning over maps together.

  After a few moments, the MP came back with a man in his thirties, moderately built with shiny jet black hair.

  “I’m Corporal Steed,” the man declared. “You Kowalski?”

  The sniper saluted and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “Walk with me,” the Corporal said, and headed out of the tent without looking back.

  Kowalski trotted to catch up, keeping stride with him as they walked towards a fleet of consumer buses that were being loaded up with men.

  “Your Captain gave me the heads up you were coming, so I started loading up the men,” Steed said, motioning to the buses.

  “How many?” Kowalski asked.

  The Corporal turned to him. “I got about eight hundred armed and ready to go.”

  “That’s it?” the sniper blurted.

  “Afraid so,” Steed replied with a nod. “The higher ups have us doing training exercises, breaching drills, the works. Whatever they’re sending us into is gonna be a shitshow if this is any indication.”

  Kowalski crossed his arms. “I was here for the battle of Spokane,” he said. “You and your men keep your heads about you, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Steed replied. “After some of the horror stories from Kansas City I’m not exactly holding my breath.”

  The sniper shook his head. “It’s a different ball game up here.”

  “Understood,” the Corporal replied. He led them over to the lead bus, where the last man was climbing aboard. “You got a fleet of buses and a small army of men. I had the drivers patch in their radios so you should be able to deliver whatever message you need from the lead bus here. Other than that, I got nothing.”

  Kowalski blinked at him. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “No, I’m coordinating the breach training, so these boys are all yours,” Steed explained.

  The sniper paused, and then asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

  “If I can,” the Corporal replied.

  “Can you let Captain Kersey know we’re on the road, and that I’ll give him an update when I’m in communication range?” Kowalski asked.

  Steed nodded. “I’ll do it first thing when I get back.”

  Kowalski nodded in thanks, and watched for a beat as the Corporal headed off. He looked down the line of twenty or so buses and then hopped aboard the lead vehicle.

  “Are we ready, sir?” the driver asked.

  Kowalski nodded. “Take us out.”

  The driver closed the doors and dropped the bus into gear. It lurched forward, and Kowalski had to catch himself from falling on his face. This prompted a ripple of laughter through the men.

  He smirked and then picked up the microphone, turning to the driver. “This patched in to all the buses?” he asked.

  The driver flipped a switch on the dash and then gave him a thumbs up. “You’re good to go,” he said.

  Kowalski put the microphone to his mouth. “All right you chucklefucks, listen up,” he declared. “My name is Kowalski, and I was at the tip of the spear that drove deep into the heart of Spokane. While you’ve been lounging around in the middle of fucking Kansas, I’ve had my ass on the front lines for the last three weeks.” He held up a finger and pointed at the men before him. “You’d better pay close attention for the next couple of hours, because I’m gonna tell you how to survive the mountain of shit we’re headed into.” He stared down at them, no trace of humor left on their faces. He raised his chin in the dead silence, and said, “Goof off, and you’re gonna get eaten.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Yes sir, your man took off about fifteen minutes ago,” Corporal Steed said, his burly voice coming through Kersey’s radio. “Not sure exactly where you’re sending them, but they’re on the way.”

  The Captain nodded. “Thank you for all of your help, Corporal,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.” He set the mic down beside David. “Are there any other pressing needs?” he asked.

  The communications expert dug through some papers on his desk, and then shook his head. “I think we got it all under control, Captain,” he said. “If you want to head back to your personal comm room so you can get focused for your call with the President, we’ll handle it from here.”

  “Appreciate it,” Kersey replied, and then headed back to the hallway. He paused and then turned towards the cafeteria. There were several men having some lunch, a few soldiers behind the counter. He was almost disappointed that they weren’t dressed up in nets and aprons like Kowalski had been, having taken his lunch lady job so seriously.

  As he approached the counter, the man in front of him stood at attention.

  “At ease, soldier,” Kersey said.

  The man relaxed. “What can I get you, sir?” he asked.

  “Could really use some coffee,” the Captain admitted.

  The worker chewed his lip for a moment, turning to his buddies who shrugged. “Sir, if you can give me a few minutes, I can brew you a fresh pot,” he said quickly.

  “A few minutes will be fine, soldier,” Kersey replied with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

  “Yes, sir!” the soldier said, and then rushed off into the kitchen to start making the brew.

  Kersey looked around, watching a few soldiers enjoying some breakfast together. They looked to be in their early twenties, with close-cropped hair and relatively clean fatigues. The Captain walked over to them and leaned on the table.

  “Would you boys mind if I join you while I wait on my coffee?” he asked.

  They looked up at him with eyes wide as saucers, and then quickly sat up straight, muttering garbled Yes, sir’s through their mouthfuls.

  “Relax, boys, no need to get formal on my account,” Kersey said with a chuckle, and took a seat. Once their shoulders relaxed, he offered his hand. “As I’m sure you know, I’m Captain Kersey,” he said.

  “I’m Private Tyler,” the shorter one said, “and this is my friend Private Jack.”

  The Captain nodded. “It’s good to meet you boys.”

  “Likewise, sir,” Jack replied as they shook hands.

  “So, where are you two from?” Kersey asked.

  Tyler laughed nervously. “Believe it or not, we’re both from Kentucky.”

  “Kentucky, huh?” the Captain asked. “That’s God’s country without a doubt.” When the two Privates shared a pointed look, he cocked his head. “You don't think your home state is God’s country?”

  “If you saw our hometown, you might not think so,” Tyler replied dryly.

  Kersey chuckled. “Fair enough,” he replied. “But the counterpoint to that is that Kentucky is home to all that sweet, sweet bourbon.”

  They nodded, cracking smiles.

  “True,” Jack said, “it is the nectar of the gods.”

  Tyler hummed with approval. “It was always one of the foundations of my family’s food pyramid.”

  “Wait a second,” Kersey said, raising his palms. “Are you even old enough to drink bourbon?”

  Tyler smirked. “I am in Kentucky, sir.”

  They shared a laugh and then the Captain asked, “So, are you boys hanging in there?”

  “As good as can be expected, sir,” Jack admitted.

  Tyler nodded in agreement. “Things are going a lot smoother now than they did in KC.”

  “You boys were in Kansas City?” Kersey asked, eyebrows rising.

  They both nodded, gazes darkening.

  “We weren’t in the front lines, mind you,” Jack said.

  Tyler sighed. “If we were, we probably wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

  Jack nodded. “But we saw enough to make us worry about coming up here.”

  “But, but,” Tyl
er said quickly, holding up a finger. “The way you have been running things has put all of us at ease.”

  “It’s true,” Jack added. “The train ride up here, the general mood amongst the men was that we were being shuffled to another suicide mission. But once we got into it, we started feeling like it was survivable.”

  Kersey smiled, relieved to hear he had the backing of the men. “I really appreciate you boys saying that,” he said, pressing his palms together. “I’m trying my best to keep everybody as safe as possible.”

  “So, Captain,” Tyler said, setting down his spoon. “Are they going to let you lead the assault on Seattle?”

  Kersey laughed, the absurdity of the situation that this was a legitimate question suddenly striking him. He looked up and saw David standing at the entrance to the cafeteria, giving him the thumbs up to let him know it was time for the call.

  The Captain got to his feet. “Looks like I’m about to go find out.” He held out his hand, and shook with both of them again in turn.

  “You have our vote, Captain,” Tyler said.

  Jack nodded firmly. “Without a doubt.”

  “You boys be safe out there,” Kersey said, and walked back to the counter, where the soldier set a mug and a small thermos out for him.

  “Here you go, sir,” he said. “If you need more, come back and see me.”

  The Captain took a deep breath and smiled. “Appreciate it,” he said, and picked up his drink. As he stepped out of the cafeteria, David pushed off of the wall where he’d been leaning.

  “Meeting stars in a few minutes,” he said, “the line just went live.” He held out a stack of papers.

  Kersey took them with his free hand, tucking them under his arm. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Some local maps of Seattle and nearby surrounding areas,” David explained. “We don’t have the ability to do video via a satellite uplink yet, hoping for later today, but this should keep you on the same page as everyone else.”

  The Captain smiled with relief. “Appreciate it,” he said, and watched the kid run off to his comm room. Kersey took a deep breath, and then headed down the hallway for the most important meeting of his life.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kersey sat at his communication setup, sipping on his hot coffee. He slipped on the headset that David had set up for him, and could hear various chatter from several people. Nobody seemed to be talking to anyone on the line, just other people they were sitting with on their end.

  After several moments, the bulk of the chatter ceased. Within moments, a booming voice began to speak, belonging to President Williams.

  “Good afternoon everybody,” he said, cutting through the voices to make his presence known. There was dead silence allowing him to continue. “Thank you for joining us. Is General Stephens on the line?”

  “Yes, Mister President,” Stephens replied.

  “Good, we can get started with the planning session, then,” the President replied, and took a breath.

  “Mister President,” the General cut in, “apologies for interrupting.”

  There was a short pause, and then Williams said, “Go ahead, General.”

  “I have invited Captain Kersey to join us on this call,” Stephens said. “Captain, are you there?”

  Kersey cleared his throat, his heart rate doubling as he said, “Yes General, I am.”

  “Captain Kersey is the one who successfully planned and executed the clearing of Spokane,” Stephens continued. “From what I understand, he employed some unique strategies and I felt like his experience and knowledge would be of benefit.”

  General Adams’ gruff voice cut in. “With all due respect General, we’ve been planning the Seattle operation for quite some time now.”

  “I understand that General,” Stephens replied quickly, “but after Kansas City I think we can all agree that having some successful on-the-ground experience could be worth listening to. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  There was a tense moment of silence before the President spoke up. “General Adams, I don’t think there is any harm in hearing what the Captain has to say about his tactics for Spokane. Does anybody disagree with that?”

  There was a chorus of no, sir across the line from various sources.

  “Welcome Captain Kersey,” Williams said. “I look forward to hearing your insights.”

  Kersey sat up straight in his chair. “It’s my pleasure, Mister President.” He was amazed he was able to keep his voice level.

  “Before we get started,” Williams said, “allow me to introduce the rest of the people in the room. General Adams has been overseeing the nationwide response to this crisis. We also have John Teeter and Whitney Hill, who have been overseeing the strategy and logistics of the various operations.”

  “Good to meet y’all,” Kersey said politely.

  “So, I’ll open up the floor,” the President said. “Where do we want to begin?”

  “I suggest that before we get into the plan for Seattle that we address the nearby threats of Vancouver and Portland,” a woman spoke up, presumably Whitney.

  “Very well,” Williams agreed. “Please proceed.”

  “Vancouver poses a significant risk to this operation, with roughly two and a half million in the metro area pre-war,” she continued. “Satellite images have shown that the streets are packed full of zombies, leading us to estimate that anywhere from a quarter to one half of the metro population is outside and mobile.”

  “Miss Hill,” General Stephens cut in, “apologies for the interruption, but how far is Vancouver from Seattle?”

  “No worries, General,” Whitney replied airily. “It’s about a hundred and forty miles from downtown to downtown, and with the speed these things move, we could be facing an overwhelming northern battlefront within a few days of the operation starting.” She paused. “And this doesn’t include the tens of thousands of zombies in the lesser populated areas that could find their way to the interstate and have a direct path to our troops. Our most conservative estimate is that the northern front of our forces could see significant numbers within twenty-four hours. Assuming we do nothing, that is.”

  “And what sort of action do you recommend, Miss Hill?” the President asked.

  “My team has analyzed the area and suggest we destroy the four main bridges over the Fraser River, which is just south of the downtown area of Vancouver,” she replied. “While this won’t completely solve our problem, my team estimates that it will cut off anywhere from sixty to eight percent of the creatures, trapping them on the other side of the river.”

  “What’s the likelihood that they’ll be able to navigate the river and get across?” Adams cut in.

  “Minimal,” she replied calmly. “For every thousand that try, no more than five or six will find their way across. However, based on reports from the field, the likelihood of significant numbers venturing into the water is minimal at best.”

  Adams made a noise of approval. “Thank you, Miss Hill.”

  “Have we been able to get in touch with the Canadian government?” Williams asked.

  “My colleague will be able to answer that better than I will,” Whitney admitted.

  “Thank you, Miss Hill,” John piped up. “Mister President, we have attempted every communication we can think of, and only have been able to reach mid-level ministry heads, with none of them knowing how to reach the Prime Minister or his immediate cabinet.”

  “Do we know if they still have a functioning government?” the President asked.

  “We do not,” John admitted. “However, everyone that we spoke to that has even a modicum of power was in full agreement of our plan to destroy the bridges in Vancouver. However, they did have a request that I promised I would run by everyone.”

  “What would they like in return?” Williams asked.

  “Assuming that our operation is successful, they would like help in pacifying Vancouver so that they can join us in setting up a safe zone for their people,” John repli
ed.

  There was a short pause before the President said, “I suppose that’s a better option than openly invading their territory.”

  “That was our thought too, Mister President,” John said. “With your permission, I will relay our agreement to their terms once we conclude here.”

  “Make it so,” Williams agreed.

  “Miss Hill?” Stephens asked.

  “Yes, General?” Whitney asked.

  He took a deep breath. “If we cut off the bulk of the zombies from Vancouver, do you have an estimate on how many could potentially find their way to our northern front?” he asked.

  “Honestly, it’s just speculation on my part,” she admitted.

  “Please, give me your best guess,” he encouraged her. “I promise I won’t hold you to it.”

  There was a ripple of chuckles throughout the lines, and then Whitney sighed.

  “Could be anywhere from a hundred thousand to half a million over the course of a week that comes down,” she said.

  There was a drawn-out silence on the line as everyone digested those numbers.

  “That…” Stephens trailed off, and then cleared his throat. “That is not an insignificant amount.”

  “No, General, it is not,” Whitney agreed, “however it is far better than the potential two million or so.”

  Kersey pored over his small map of the area north of Seattle, tracing his finger along the interstate before stopping on the town of Burlington. While it was small, he could see a river running through it.

  “General, if I may,” he spoke up. “I believe I have a solution to this problem.”

  Stephens didn’t hesitate. “By all means, Captain.”

  “If you have maps available, look at the town of Burlington,” Kersey said.

  There was a brief silence on the line as everyone presumably looked at their maps.

  “Captain, we’re looking at satellite imagery, not Google Maps,” Whitney finally said, though not unkindly. “Can you give us a little more info other than the town name?”

  Kersey shook his head at his boneheaded move. “My apologies, give me just a moment,” he said, and checked the map legend, checking how long a mile and ten miles was.