Dead America: Operation Bismarck (Dead America - The First Week Book 4)

by Derek Slaton

Jay wrinkled his nose. “Apparently you have more faith in your ability than I do.”

  “No question there,” his companion replied, “but I have something else in mind. This is an office building, right? That means there have to be some tables in here somewhere we can use.”

  “Table in the elevator,” Jay said, eyes widening as he caught on, “use it like a barricade.”

  “I can shoot over it, while you two stout cowboys hold it in place,” Ernest said. “I think we can clear them out.”

  “Chad, we have a plan for the elevator,” Emily said into the radio. “Going to take us a few minutes to get is set up, though.”

  “Well, we aren’t going anywhere,” Chad admitted. “Oh, and be sure to use the eighteenth floor. Alan and Don used it earlier and it was clear. Still might want to do a sweep, though.”

  “We’re on it,” she replied. “Contact you before we head up.” She clipped the radio back to her belt, and drew her handgun. “All right, let’s do it.”

  She led the way down to the eighteenth floor, determination in her gait, and counted down before flinging the door open for Ernest to leap through first. There was no answering shrieks or moans, and the group banged on the walls and yelled to get the attention of any would-be enemies.

  “Looks like we’re clear,” Emily said when there was no response.

  They split into two groups to look for a suitable table.

  “Those look like a bitch to move,” Jay said, kicking against a large desk.

  Ernest shook his head. “I doubt they’d provide enough cover, anyway.”

  “Hey boys,” Emily called from another room, “I think I found what you’re looking for.”

  They joined her in front of a cubicle farm, and Jay asked, “You find a table for us?”

  “Nope,” she said, “something better.” She smacked the side of the cubicle wall, which was about four feet tall.

  Ernest cracked a smile. “Ironic that the bane of my existence for the better part of a decade is now going to be the thing that saves us all.”

  “Well, let’s get one and get it in the elevator,” Jay said, and he and Alex disassembled a panel.

  Ernest hit the button for the elevator, and stepped back. “Y’all may want to do the same.” They all took a step back, and Emily raised her weapon as well.

  The elevator gave a ding and the doors open, revealing nothing but a desk radio playing new age music. Ernest grimaced and fired a shot, obliterating the noise.

  “Thank you,” Alex said with a relieved sigh.

  The gunman grinned. “Anytime.”

  He and Emily got into the elevator before Alex and Jay wedged the makeshift barricade into position. They leaned it back so that Ernest could reach over and hit the button for the twenty-first floor. As the doors shot, the two burly cowboys pressed their entire weight against each side of the cubicle call, and Emily took a knee against the middle and put her back against it.

  “This is gonna be loud as hell,” Alex said.

  Jay barked a laugh. “Eh, it’s just a little tinnitus, ain’t gonna kill ya.”

  The elevator gave it’s happy ding and the group braced for action. As soon as the doors opened, Ernest stepped forward, lining the end of the barrel up on the top edge of the wall. He easily took down the closest zombie, but the crack alerted every other corpse in the room and they shrieked, running for him.

  He lined up the next shot and fired before going into rapid-fire mode and unloading round after round. He was able to take out half a dozen before the rush made it to the elevator.

  “Here they come!” he cried, and the group braced for impact. Four zombies crashed into the cubicle wall, jerking the barrier against the three holding it. Ernest took a step back with their strain, but continued to fire point blank rapidly, clearing the entire row. As they crumpled, a fresh row of corpses took their place, and he repeated his sweep.

  Emily watched his face, so calm as he put bullets between the eyes of every business suit clad ghoul. The onslaught lasted for a solid minute, blood and brain splattering all over the elevator and its inhabitants.

  Finally he stopped, and the silence was almost deafening, unmarred by a single moan. Ernest stayed vigilant, waiting for another zombie to pop up, but none did. He peeked over the barricade at the mass of bodies three high and four across. The others slowly moved from their bracing positions and peeked over as well, four blood-spattered faces wide eyed in the dim light.

  “So…” Ernest broke the silence. “Back to eighteen and hike up?”

  Alex nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good call.”

  Jay leaned the table back so Ernest could reach the button, and the burly cowboy clapped the city boy on the back.

  “Hell of a job, man,” he commended, and they shared a smile.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  3:30 PM

  Chad stayed by the inside of the roof-access door all through the gunfight, heart in his throat the entire time. When there was a loud knock at the door, he cracked it open, and then flung it the rest of the way at the sight of a blood-splattered Emily standing there.

  “Howdy, Miss Walker,” he greeted.

  She smiled. “Chad, good to see you.”

  Alan and Don pushed him out of the way and barreled past, rubbing their hands and dancing from foot to foot as they entered the building.

  “Pardon us, ma’am,” Alan said.

  Don shivered. “It’s cold as a mother up there.”

  “You’ll have to excuse them,” Chad said with a smile. “They’re not the biggest fans of the cold.”

  “Hard to blame them,” Emily replied, and waved him in. “Come on in, let’s get you warm too.”

  He nodded and joined the group. “So, now that the hard part is down, how are we getting on the of the city?” he asked.

  She smiled and unclipped her radio. “Odell, you copy?” she asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” came the reply. “Y’all ready to hitch a ride?”

  “Soon,” she said. “We still have to walk down the stairs, but wanted to put you on standby.”

  “Well, I found me a nice cozy hiding spot, so you just let me know and I’ll be up there,” he replied.

  Emily nodded. “Thanks, Odell.”

  “Alan, Don, you boys ready to get out of here?” Chad asked, drawing his gun.

  Alan nodded, blowing into his hands. “As long as there’s heat where we’re going, yeah, let’s do it.”

  “I’m sure we can scare some of that up back at the ranch,” Emily assured him as she clipped the radio back to her belt. “Let’s head out.” She led them to the stairwell and down to the bottom floor door. She paused, pulling the radio again. “Odell, we’re in position. We’re gonna have to time this right so we don’t get overrun.”

  “I will be at the front door in exactly four minutes,” came the reply.

  She nodded. “We’ll be there.” She clipped her radio back as Ernest finished reloading his famous gun. “All right, here’s the plan,” she continued. “Ernest, I want you out first. You go straight for the door, and take out anything in front of you. When you get outside, I want you to shoot anything that’s within thirty yards of the pickup spot.”

  “Consider them shot,” he replied.

  “Alan, Don, you two cover the side hallways until we get through,” she said. “Chad, you cover our rear. Any questions?” There was a shuffle of shaking heads. “Ernest, lead us out,” she instructed.

  He flung open the door, aiming quickly and heading towards the front of the building. There was a lone zombie about ten feet away and he dropped it easily with a bullet in the forehead. The noise sparked a chorus of moans and growls, and the group took off at a run towards the front door. He took out the head of one of three zombies tearing at them from the front door.

  Emily and Jay opened fire on either side of him.

  “Get outside, Ernest, we got this,” she said, and he rushed out of the snow covered steps.

  He stood at the top, looking do
wn at the pickup point, a few slow moving zombies staggering up towards him. He took careful aim and picked them off one by one, making the cracks short instead of one long attention-drawing noise.

  The shooting continued behind him, however, as he scanned the area. There were a few dozen creatures within view in the courtyard, but none that were close enough to pose a threat. A few seconds later, he heard an engine and honking from just behind the tree line.

  “Our ride is here!” he bellowed, and Emily’s muffled voice called to the others inside.

  Odell skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and the group poured out of the building to the escape vehicle. Ernest stood guard by the tailgate, firing at a few zombies that stumbled too close. He clambered up last and Jay smacked the roof to signal Odell to drive out.

  It was crowded in the back, but nobody seemed to mind, huddling close together for warmth. Chad watched the snow fall lazy on the capitol grounds, almost peaceful after a long day of so much violence.

  When Odell pulled up to the Main Avenue bridge, he jumped down from the driver’s seat and came face to face with the crew for the first time that day. He started to pocket his keys, and then instead tossed them on the dashboard.

  “You don’t want your truck anymore?” Jay asked.

  Odell shrugged as he stretched his legs. “Never know when we’re gonna need a ride in town,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” Jay nodded.

  Ernest and Emily stood guard in the middle of the street, as the survivors climbed over the snowplow one by one. He inclined his head to her.

  “Are we the last ones out?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied, “Glenn and Myles left on the I-94. Once we’re over, we’ve cleared the city. At least, with our people.”

  “I gotta admit Emily, you had a hell of a plan,” he said. “Those things aren’t going to be able to go west, and god only knows how many people Zach pulled out. Lotta people are going to stay alive because of you.”

  She stiffened. “Lotta people are dead because of me, too.”

  “Look at it like this,” he insisted. “If you hadn’t done what you did, they would be dead in a matter of weeks anyway.”

  She made a small noise of acceptance. “Still. It’s gonna keep me up some nights.”

  “I’ve heard bourbon helps,” Ernest said, offering a small smile.

  She winked at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She walked off to the ladder, and he stood guard until she was up and over. He climbed up after her, and glanced once more at the city, the shadows cast by the lowering sun concealing the horrors of the day.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  5:30 PM

  Chad drove up the driveway to the Wainwright Ranch and before he’d even put the truck in park, Emily leapt from the vehicle to meet Florence, who practically flew down the front steps.

  “Hey, baby,” Emily cooed into her daughter’s hair, clutching her tightly. “You okay?”

  Florence sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. “Just… just so happy you’re home safe, mom.”

  Emily stroked her hair and gave her a kiss on the top of the head, remembering what it was she’d been fighting for. Beneath it all, she’d wanted this area to be safe so that her daughter didn’t have to live in fear every day.

  “Son, you all right?” Mrs. Wainwright asked, approaching the vehicle.

  Chad jumped out and smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am. Miss Walker and her friends did a good job of getting me out of a pickle.” He gave her a tight hug.

  “You go wash up for supper, now,” she patted him on the back.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Chad replied, and scurried inside.

  The Wainwright matriarch looked Emily up and down before nodding. “You did all right there, lady. My husband and I would be honored if you’d sit at our table for supper this evening.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wainwright,” Emily replied, chest constricting a little.

  “Now come on in out of the cold,” the older woman urged. “We got a fire going for a reason.”

  She moved inside, arm still securely around her daughter, and Kristin approached with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “My Pa would like to see you in his office,” she said.

  Emily nodded, and reluctantly let go of her daughter. “Florence, I’ll be back in a minute.” She took the mug and walked into Mr. Wainwright’s office, finding him sitting at his desk with a map of the city. There were several markings on it, and his lips were pursed as he leaned over it.

  “Knock, knock,” Emily said at the threshold.

  He looked up at her and smiled. “Emily, come on in,” he said.

  “You still working?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “The work never stops in the apocalypse,” he replied. “Come over here, want your opinion.”

  She leaned over the desk and cocked her head at the map.

  “I’ve picked out the most likely spots one of those things could get across the river,” he explained. “It’s an unlikely thing to happen, but I think it would be prudent to put up some barbed wire to catch any who do make it across.”

  “I like that idea,” she agreed, and took a long sip of her coffee. “I also think we need to see if we can scare up a few old radios that can be left on the bridges. If there are any other survivors in the city, or any who try to cross it, they might appreciate having someone to reach out to.”

  Mr. Wainwright nodded. “I’ll talk to Eldon in the morning and see what we can come up with. He’s going to be pissy though, with all those extra people at his ranch.”

  “How many people did Zach get out?” she asked.

  “Something like a hundred and fifty,” he replied. “We got a lot of people we need to take care of.”

  “Well, tomorrow we’ll start clearing the nearby ranches and taking stock of supplies,” she suggested.

  He tossed down his pencil and stood up with a big smile. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s a problem for tomorrow’s version of us,” he declared. “I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve earned a night off.”

  She shot him a playful smile. “What happened to the work never stops in the apocalypse?”

  “Well, the apocalypse will still be going on tomorrow,” he said, and they shared a laugh. He put an arm around her, and they exited the office towards the decadent smells of the feast that awaited them after a long day.

  END

  Emily, Ernest, and the rest of the Bismarck group will return. In the next volume, the action shifts to El Paso, where the locals are fighting against both zombies and an invasion by the Mexican Drug Cartels.