Dead America The Second Week (Book 7): Dead America: Carolina Front, Part 4

by Slaton, Derek

  There were a few gunshots until a familiar voice cried, “Hold your fire!”

  Terrell squinted, turning to the source of the noise. He clenched his jaw when he realized it was Miles.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Give me one good reason not to shoot your ass right now,” Terrell snarled, aiming his handgun directly at Miles’ face.

  The man in question stood before him, hands in the air, nowhere near his weapons. “Everyone hold your fire!” he demanded of his men, again. “Captain Graham, come on, you know me at this point.”

  “I really fuckin’ don’t,” Terrell replied, still aiming. “Just because we’ve run into each other a few times out there in the wasteland doesn’t mean I can trust you.”

  Miles shook his head. “No, but you’ve done me a solid a few times, and our communities have a truce. So I know that I can trust you.”

  “That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” the Captain shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You knew you could trust me, trust that I would follow your suspicious note, even though I was smart enough to question it.”

  His opponent nodded. “I know what it looked like, man, me showing up with it ready like that,” he admitted. “We knew you were there when we came up, it took me a good while to convince Mario not to snipe you all while you were raiding houses in town. I scribbled the note while he was busy scouting you guys, and then convinced him that we should just have a talk, man to man.”

  Mario scowled from behind him, and Terrell sneered. The guy in question was standing right there, and Miles expected him to trust them both?

  “Or, that’s what you wanted me to think,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Do the whole ‘good soldier/bad mercenary’ routine to make me think that you were sneaking around on him.”

  “Oh, he was sneaking around on me,” Mario muttered, eyes darkening.

  Terrell squared his shoulders. “And why are you here now?”

  “Because some of us have a sense of fuckin’ loyalty,” Mario snapped. “I’m loyal to Miles.”

  The Captain rolled his eyes. “I find that hard to believe. You didn’t seem too warm and fuzzy about him warming up to me at all.”

  “Did you notice I’m fuckin’ locked in here too?” Mario growled.

  Miles raised his hands to try to defuse the situation. “You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “I know how it looks. But if you don’t lower your gun and chill, eventually one of my men is going to pop one in your face, and regardless of what you think right now, I really don’t want that to happen. Truly.”

  “If I’m going down, it’s worth it for me to smoke you for leading me into a trap,” the Captain snapped.

  His opponent groaned. “It’s not a trap! Did you notice the door was locked? We were stuck in here, man. We had this room stacked to the ceiling with weapons and ammo, and it was all ready to go.”

  “Why would you give me the location?” Terrell shot back. “Why tell me where it is in the first place? If you were going to share weapons with me, why not drop off a box as a peace offering instead of slipping me a mysterious note?”

  Miles took a deep breath. “The note was my peace offering. There are too many of us that were planning on defecting to Clinton. If we were to take off with a bunch of supplies and guns it would have attracted too much attention.”

  “Why the fuck are you here, then? Attracting all this attention?” Terrell asked.

  His opponent shrugged. “Shit’s obviously gone tits up, hasn’t it?” He clenched his jaw for a moment, eyes wide and pleading. “Look. Every man in this room wanted to pledge themselves to Xavier in Clinton. We were hoping that you guys would get all this stuff out of here, so I could lead a mission to take it all back. And then defect.”

  The Captain took a deep breath, and finally lowered his gun, though he kept one eye on Mario. “That is a stupid plan.”

  “In hindsight, not my best work,” Miles admitted sheepishly, lowering his hands.

  There was the sound of shuffling all around the room as his men relaxed, taking their weapons off of the Captain.

  “So how did you end up locked in here?” Terrell asked, waving his hand around his head.

  Miles shrugged. “Well, the Boss found out about the betrayal, clearly.”

  “The Boss?” Terrell raised an eyebrow. “Like Springsteen?”

  Miles wrinkled his nose. “Nah, more like Boss Hogg.”

  “Shame we don’t have Daisy Duke here,” the Captain quipped.

  Miles snorted. “No shit,” he agreed, and took a deep breath. “Anyway, he found out what was going on, somehow. Left us here, presumably to die and eat each other.”

  “Not the nicest boss,” Terrell replied, shaking his head. “But his loss is our gain, I guess. We may not have the weapons but we can always use more manpower. I suggest we get out of dodge and get you boys to Clinton.” He eyed Mario. “With some rigid ground rules.”

  His new companion smiled. “Thanks, Captain,” he replied. “We really would have been fucked if you hadn’t come along.”

  “How many of you are there, six?” Terrell asked as he surveyed the group. “It’s gonna be a tight squeeze in the little car we’ve got. Maybe we can find something to hot-wire on the way.”

  Miles shrugged as they followed two of his companions towards the door. “A tight squeeze in a car is still preferable to dying of thirst in this shithole.”

  One of the guys nodded emphatically as he opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. “What kind of car is-” he began, but his question cut off abruptly as a bullet tore through his forehead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “What the fuck?!” Miles cried. “Jacob, Vince, fall back! Phil, you okay?”

  The guy behind the shot man ducked around the door, nodding despite the blood splattered across his face. His mouth was set in a thin line as he stared down at his fallen comrade.

  There was a crackle from behind Terrell and he turned. On one of the shelves lay a nondescript walkie talkie, and it clicked to life.

  “Get a good show, pretties?” a snake-like voice hissed through the receiver.

  Miles’ eyes widened. “He didn’t leave.” He clenched his jaw.

  “I guess that’s your Boss Hogg, huh?” Terrell raised an eyebrow, motioning to the radio.

  Miles simply nodded.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Vince rambled, running his hands through his hair. “We’re fucked.”

  Jacob put a hand on his shoulder. “Bro, we were gonna die in here all slow-like. If we’re gonna die getting shot in the head, that’s much better.”

  “None of us are dying today,” Terrell declared, and picked up the radio, raising it to his lips. “This is Captain Terrell Graham. Who am I speaking with?”

  The Boss opened his end of the line just to laugh, a long, drawn out noise that had the soldier’s eyes rolling.

  “I know who you are, Captain Terrell Graham,” he replied. “You’ve caused me a shitload of trouble, instilling traitorous tendencies in my otherwise loyal men.”

  Miles wrinkled his nose.

  Terrell shrugged. “If they were really that loyal, they wouldn’t have been susceptible to my traitorous aura. I think your men realized that they could get a better deal somewhere else.”

  “Oh, Captain,” the Boss replied, and clucked his tongue, “you don’t have any idea what kind of deal I offer. What kind of ship I run. And the only alternative for you and Miles and that sorry lot is death.”

  Terrell shook his head. “See, I don’t think so,” he replied. “I think you got a lucky shot because we weren’t aware of what was going on. If you weren’t such a pussy you’d be coming in here and taking me on yourself.”

  “Your juvenile attempts to goad me aren’t going to work, Captain,” the Boss came back in a singsong voice. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my fun. How about you lead your band of merry shits across the hall into the room with a view, hm?”

  Vince paled, glancing from his companions to th
e door.

  Terrell pursed his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re gonna be following your orders,” he replied into the radio. “We’re not gonna just walk out to get shot in the head.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I offed Roy just to surprise you,” the Boss purred. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin my fun. I’d love for you boys to see what I have in store for you, and you can’t do that from a windowless room.”

  Miles shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t know if we have a choice,” Terrell replied to the men in the room, not pushing the radio button. “I assume that you all tried to get out of here, and the only way is through that door.”

  “We could wait him out,” Jacob suggested. “Eventually he’d have to send somebody in here, and we can fight them on our own terms.”

  Miles shook his head. “As much as that theory is tempting, if I know the Boss, he’s got something up his sleeve. Regardless of whether we stay in this room or not, he’s going to execute whatever thing he’s got going on, and honestly it might help us if we can see what it is before it comes.”

  Terrell nodded thoughtfully. He trusted Miles’ assumption, as it matched his own gut feeling on the matter. They had to take their chance and head across the hall.

  He realized in all of the hubbub that he’d been ignoring his own radio, and he flicked the volume back up, immediately hearing Coleman’s concerned voice.

  “-if you don’t answer me right now you asshole Graham-”

  Terrell raised the receiver to his lips. “Here, Coleman,” he said. “Sorry, I had you turned down too far.”

  “What was that shot, Captain?” Coleman asked quickly, relief evident in his voice. “I can’t see from this side.”

  “We’re pinned down by Miles’ boss,” Terrell replied.

  The Corporal grunted. “I fuckin’ knew it—wait, we?”

  “Miles and a few of his guys, they’ve defected and now we’re all in deep shit,” the Captain explained. “Can you see anything?”

  “I’m getting impatient,” the Boss’ voice came through the other radio.

  “Nothing on this side,” Coleman said. “Do you want me to move?”

  “We’re going to go to the room across the hall,” Terrell said. “I’ll get a look at what’s going on, and get you to go around to where I think the shot originated from.” He raised the Boss’ radio to his mouth. “We’re crossing now.”

  Phil stepped away from the wall and tightened his hands around his assault rifle. “I’ll go first,” he offered, and before anyone could protest, he barreled across the hallway and pushed through the door across the way.

  There were no shots, and nothing exploded.

  “Clear!” Phil called back, sweeping the room quickly. Terrell swiftly headed across, leading the other four men into the brightly lit room. The whole outer wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the side parking lot.

  “Oh, here comes my shipment,” the Boss taunted through the radio, and six garbage trucks trundled out from a dirt road in the trees, smashing through the gate and onto the grounds.

  “Are you seeing these trucks?” Coleman demanded.

  Terrell clenched his jaw as they surrounded the building, backing up with simultaneous loud beeps. “Yep,” he replied to his friend, and then the trucks began to tilt.

  The back doors opened, and it wasn’t garbage that tumbled out of the dumps.

  It was zombies.

  “And you don’t want to be bad hosts, not letting in your friends,” the Boss came through, glee in his voice. On cue, an explosion racked the building.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Vince cried.

  Miles gripped his gun with white knuckles. “Stairwell,” he said, and Jacob and Phil darted off to secure the stairwell door and hopefully keep them safe on their floor at least for a little while.

  “Well, I’m off,” the Boss said. “I’m going to take my new weapons and outfit my army to decimate Xavier and take Clinton. Some of my friends are going to stick around, though, so you might want to stay away from the windows. Toodles!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Motherfucker,” Terrell muttered under his breath.

  “Cap,” Coleman prompted, “the whole building is swarming with zombies.”

  The Captain sighed, and lifted his radio to his lips. “I’m aware.”

  “What are we gonna do?” Vince demanded. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

  Miles put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you and Phil check out some of the other rooms and see if there’s anything we can use? We don’t have tons of ammo.”

  Terrell crouched down and pressed himself against the wall next to the window, peering out carefully. “I think I know where the shot came from,” he said into the radio, honing in on a busted window frame across from the glass that had shattered when Roy was shot. “What would you think about heading around there to have a look? If that’s where more snipers are, then we should be able to run around them or figure out a route from the other side.”

  “Or I could take them out and you can get out wherever you damn please,” Coleman chirped back.

  Miles snorted. “I like this guy.”

  “Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Terrell replied firmly. “I need you to stay hidden, and figure out where our enemies are.”

  “Ten-four,” Coleman replied. “Climbing down my tree, now.”

  “Smart, having a sniper outside,” Miles said.

  Terrell shrugged, eyeing Mario. “He trusted this mission far less than I did.”

  “Like I said, smart,” his tentative companion replied. “So? What’s the plan?”

  The Captain motioned for them to follow him into the storeroom, where the others had congregated to stay away from the windows. Phil dragged Roy’s body into the corner to get him out of the way, and Terrell assumed, out of respect for the fallen man not to be trampled every time they passed him.

  “How well do you know these buildings? Is there roof access?” he asked as they made a rough semicircle in the room.

  Miles shook his head. “Not on this building. Only two have helipads, this one has an observatory so there’s no hatch to the outside.”

  Terrell crossed his arms. “What if we can draw all of the zombies up here, and then climb down through a second floor window?”

  “Are you insane?” Mario snapped, throwing his arms up.

  Miles waved off his angry companion. “That’s as good a plan as any.” As if on cue, the stairwell door began to rattle with the force of hands and dead bodies smacking into it. “Considering the stairwell is off limits, now.”

  “We just need to figure out where is safe to climb down,” Terrell mused. He poked his head out of the hallway and looked down to the window that had exploded from Roy’s death shot. “Did you guys find anything in any of the other rooms?”

  Vince shook his head and Phil shrugged.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” the latter replied. “Just more busted shit.”

  “What about that room at the back, opposite that window?” Terrell motioned to the hallway. “If we’re facing away from the shooter we might have a better chance.”

  Miles shook his head. “He might have more shooters. We need to take out all of the snipers before we make a move.”

  “How the fuck we gonna do that?” Mario huffed, crossing his arms.

  “We help Coleman,” Terrell replied, turning to Phil. “Was there any shiny broken shit in those rooms?”

  The man shrugged. “Lots of glass. One of the rooms had a one-way mirror.”

  “What do you need something shiny for?” Miles asked.

  Terrell grinned. “Snipers can’t hit what they can’t see.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Coleman pressed himself up against the corner of the building adjacent to the one Terrell had directed him to. He wanted a clear shot to take out whoever it was that had them pinned down. He figured the best course of action was to play to his
strengths, and hopefully take them by surprise.

  He tested the door handle for the fire door, and once figuring out it was unlocked, he knocked on it. There was no movement from inside, so he slipped in quickly and found himself in a stairwell. Perfect.

  The compound had been wide open and empty when they’d approached, so he was banking on the fact that all the zombies had been rounded up for the Boss’ plan to be dumped back into the other building. He headed up to the third floor, and repeated his knocking up there, just to be safe.

  As the Corporal pushed open the door, he cried out as a snarling zombie launched itself at him. He cursed himself for not having waited long enough after knocking, pushing up with his rifle to keep the thing’s snapping mouth at bay. As he hit the floor with a thud, he struggled to take in air and planted his foot into the zombie’s stomach, throwing it over his head.

  The corpse tumbled down the stairs like a rag doll, flailing its limbs and unable to figure out which way was up. Coleman gasped for breath and flipped over onto his stomach as the zombie continued to roll down the stairwell. He shoved his rifle aside and drew his knife, scrambling to his feet and heading down to the next landing.

  The zombie shrieked and clambered up the stairs towards him on its hands and knees, like a rotted gorilla. Coleman widened his stance and then stabbed down at the right moment, catching it in the back of the skull. He kicked the corpse down the stairs and into the corner of the landing, so that he wouldn’t trip if he had to make a hasty retreat.

  He slung his rifle back over his shoulder and held up his knife, heart rate finally settling a little as he knocked on the door louder this time. He waited as long as he dared—he knew that Terrell needed him—and then eased the door open, slowly.

  Nothing came at him. It must have been a fluke straggler, that one guy that had been caught behind a desk when the rest were rounded up. Poor bastard.

  Coleman did a quick sweep of the offices, the whole side of the building he needed a wide-open conference room. The table was intact, though the chairs were strewn everywhere, blood splatters on the windows. They were tinted, which suited him just fine, so he could see what he was doing without drawing attention to himself.