Dead America The Second Week (Book 11): Dead America: Heartland Pt. 4

by Slaton, Derek

  The Corporal knelt down and peeked under, surveying the stack of rotting flesh creating a barrier of bodies to close the gap. There were little spots of open air, but it was better than nothing.

  He climbed up onto the SUV and boosted himself up onto the truck, where one of the soldiers was aiming at an approaching zombie but not yet firing.

  Herrera cocked his head, but still the shot didn’t come. “You boys taking a break?” he asked.

  “No sir,” the soldier replied, “we’re waiting on it to get closer so we can add it to the pile here. We really don’t have any other way to plug the hole at the moment.”

  The Corporal nodded. “That’s a good idea. Have you had much action?”

  “Nothing like y’all have over there,” the soldier said, motioning vaguely with his hand to the other side. “Guess the noise from the north is pulling most of them that way.”

  “Well, we need to get a little more prepared, because when those trucks rumble by, there’s a good chance they’ll bring some ghouls with them,” Herrera said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  The soldier shrugged. “We’re open to suggestions, Corporal.”

  Herrera glanced down the street, spotting a car parked in front of a store about a block and a half away. There were a dozen or so zombies in the street between them and the vehicle, and he rubbed his chin for a moment.

  “How good of shots are you guys?” he asked.

  The two soldiers smirked at each other, and in unison, raised their rifles and each fired a single shot. Two zombies near the car dropped to the ground immediately.

  “I’ll take that as my answer,” Herrera replied. “If you’d be so kind as to cover me, I’ll go see if I can steal us a car.”

  The second soldier grinned and saluted. “You’re in good hands with us.”

  The Corporal threw his rifle over his back, and ran to the SUV, sliding down to the pavement easily. As soon as he hit the ground, a zombie within a few feet flew backwards, head exploding all over the road.

  He sprinted towards the car, trusting his comrades, his footsteps echoing and attracting the attention of the nearby zombies. As he pumped his legs, shots rang out, and corpses fell left and right. As he reached the car, one of the shops close to it echoed with snarls, and a few zombies emerged from the broken display window.

  He quickly drew his handgun and popped off a few rounds, hitting a few of them and knocking them back into their brethren. Another that set food on the sidewalk flew to the side, and his guardian snipers were on it.

  Herrera threw open the driver’s side door and ducked inside the car, under the front panel and ripped the wires down. He attempted to spark it to life, but all he got was a small spark and no engine. Something crumpled next to him and he glanced out to see a nearly headless corpse collapse just a few feet away.

  He tried a few more wires, but the car wouldn’t come to life.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “Looks like I’m doing this the old fashioned way.”

  He reached out and popped the shifter into neutral before standing up and pushing hard against the doorframe. The car took a few moments to get rolling, but soon it picked up steam. The road was flat, so it didn’t pick up too much momentum, but he was able to push it at a jogging pace to get it close to the truck.

  As he closed the distance, one of the soldiers hopped down to wave him in. He steered to the left side of the road before cutting the wheel sharply when he got the signal, and the vehicle scraped against the truck, smashing into the flesh wall. It blocked about half of the opening beneath the truck, and the duo began moving as many bodies against the car as possible to close up the hole as best they could.

  “Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than it was,” Herrera said as they admired their handiwork.

  The soldier nodded. “Agreed.”

  A loud truck horn bleated in the distance, and they turned towards the noise to see the convoy approaching. Zombies flew left and right from their staggering positions in the middle of the road.

  “We should get back up top,” the Corporal said, and waved for the soldier to follow him. They clambered back up into position as the convoy crashed through the last few zombies just before the on ramp. As they made the turn, Johnson honked a few times, exchanging friendly waves with the soldiers.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Johnson trundled onto the interstate, leading the charge, and lifted his radio to his lips. “Come in, Captain,” he said. “Our kickass convoy is officially on the interstate.”

  “Good to hear,” Kersey replied. “Just make sure you’re on the south side. Bretz and his team spotted a monster horde on the north side of the road near Post Falls.”

  “Appreciate the heads up,” Johnson replied. “We’ll cross over at the next exit.”

  “Let me know when you get to the bridge,” the Captain instructed.

  The field Corporal nodded. “Ten-four.” He picked up the CB radio in the truck. “Attention convoy, we’re making a slight detour in…” He surveyed the road signs until he found what he was looking for. “...half a mile. We will be crossing over the bridge and hitting the other side of the interstate. Looks like we get to pretend to be British today, boys.”

  “What’s with the change?” Baker’s voice came through.

  “Apparently there’s a whole mess of them fuckers on the right side of the road,” Johnson explained.

  Baker sighed audibly through the radio. “So much for this being easy.”

  The soldier in the passenger seat snorted, and Johnson shrugged at him with a smile that said, hey, what can you do? He hung up the radio and wrapped both of his hands around the wheel to focus on driving.

  The interstate was fairly clear, but he wanted to keep on alert to make sure that he wouldn’t miss anything jumping out onto the road at them. He stayed well under the speed limit just in case, and it allowed them to weave around some of the broken down or abandoned cars still dotting the landscape.

  Ten minutes later, after they’d switched sides of the highway, he caught sight of the horde. Thousands of zombies clogged the roadway, staggering and writhing together in a rotted mass. Every so often a few would tumble over the barrier into the south side lanes, but the majority were on the north side, as promised.

  As they passed the creatures, Johnson smashed the horn, letting it howl in long bursts, hoping to attract every zombie they could. The convoy of creatures stretched for at least half a mile, packed in tighter than a mid-summer music festival. On the other side of them lay the town of Post Falls, and even more corpses staggered out from the neighborhoods and shopping centers to join their undead brethren on their pilgrimage down the interstate.

  As he passed the State Line - 1 Mile sign, Johnson picked up his CB radio once again. “Let’s get sharp, everyone,” he said. “There should be an emergency crossover coming up in a half mile or so. The first three trucks behind me will cross over, the other four stay on this side. Two trucks on each side of the bridge. Resistance should be light on the Washington side of things, so after getting the trucks in position, on man on either side is to stay behind to keep watch, while the rest are on bridge cleanup duty. Those on this side are to get in position quickly because we have a whole mess of trouble headed our way. Everybody clear?”

  The radio jumbled up with a collection of yes sir, and Johnson smiled.

  “Then let’s do it,” he declared, and hung up the radio. As he reached the emergency crossover, he led the three other trucks across before turning to the bridge. He cut over and glanced towards the massive horde.

  “We’re going to be cutting this close,” he muttered. “Hang on,” he instructed, and punched the gas.

  “Yes sir.” The soldier in the passenger seat reached up and took hold of the handle above his window.

  They sped towards the bridge a little faster than Johnson would otherwise be comfortable with, but desperate times. There were a handful of cars on the bridge, and about thirty zombies scatte
red about. He easily plowed through a few of them standing in the open roadway, and ignored the rest.

  When he reached the far end, he quickly parked diagonally across the road, reaching from the center line to the stone railing on the bridge. His passenger hopped out and rolled under the truck to the driver’s side as Johnson jumped down from his seat. The next truck parked across the other side, and the soldiers leapt out to join them.

  Several zombies lumbered towards them, and two of the soldiers aimed and quickly took them down.

  Johnson pointed to his passenger. “You stay here and monitor things. Stay on com channel six. I’ll check in with you every ten minutes or so.”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier replied, before turning to clamber up the truck to perch on top of it.

  “Come on, let’s clear us a path,” Johnson continued, motioning to the two soldiers from the other truck. “Just watch your downrange fire. I don’t want to listen to Baker whine if we accidentally send a shot in his direction.”

  His team chuckled and nodded, guns at the ready. There was a cluster of zombies around a car in the middle of the road, and they quickly dispatched them as they approached, dropping the bodies in heaps around the vehicle. Johnson headed up and peered inside the driver’s side window, recoiling as a corpse lunged into the glass, teeth gnashing against it.

  He raised his rifle and fired a single round through the glass and into its head. He glanced about twenty yards up to another car, and pointed.

  “You two go check that one out,” he instructed. “See if you can get it running. We’re going to need some extra protection against that flood.”

  They scampered off as he opened the door and dragged the corpse from its seat. He dropped it gracelessly on the ground, and slid into the slimy seat, finding the keys still in the ignition.

  “Tell me I can’t be this lucky,” he muttered, and took a deep breath as he turned the key. The engine roared to life, and he blinked a few times in shock. “Well, that’s once this week.”

  He grinned and put the car into gear, doing a three point turn to head down the road. He drove up beside the other two who were still trying to get the other car started up.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “It’s deader than this motherfucker,” one soldier said, and kicked the zombie at his feet for effect. “There’s a couple more up the road, though. Maybe we’ll have better luck with them.”

  “We’re going to need them all,” Johnson declared. “Pop that bitch into neutral and start pushing. I’ll take care of the rest of the moving obstacles.”

  “Yes sir,” they replied in unison, not sounding too thrilled but knowing they needed to get to work.

  Johnson drove off towards the next batch of zombies shambling about, and rolled down his window. “Drive by, bitch!” he screamed, and hit the brake before aiming and taking out every one of them with a well-placed headshot.

  Four ghouls in the middle of the road ahead walked in a pack, and rather than do another shooting, he hit the gas and plowed right through them. The impact sent one of the corpses flying right off of the bridge, and the other three smacked hard onto the pavement, leaving slick gore on the road. Johnson waited a moment for movement, but there was none.

  With the road clear, he drove up to the leftmost truck, parking the car at the far end of the trailer to block about half of the gap. As he got out, he glanced back over his shoulder and noted the soldiers moving at a pretty good pace, pushing the next car towards their barricade.

  The other four men from the trucks were on top of the trailers, but none of them had started firing. Baker popped his head over the side.

  “There you are,” he said with a grin. “How’s it look on the other side?”

  Johnson shrugged. “Pretty quiet.”

  “That’s a fucking relief, because that ain’t the case over here,” Baker said, shaking his head.

  “How long we got?” Johnson asked.

  His friend wrinkled his nose in thought. “Maybe twenty minutes before they’re within safe firing range. Twenty five before I’m going to start getting worried.”

  “You keep watch, make sure that timeline stays accurate,” Johnson said, and pointed to the two troops next to him. “You two, on me, we gotta get these cars into position.”

  They hopped down quickly and moved with him back towards the vehicles.

  Fifteen minutes later, Johnson and Baker stood atop the truck, looking out towards the horde that was headed their way. It seemed to be growing in both length and width, and the timeline seemed accurate, that they were about five minutes away from being within firing range.

  Baker swallowed, crossing his arms. “How many you think are you there?” he asked.

  “Easily into the thousands,” Johnson replied honestly. “Quite possibly over ten thousand. Regardless, it’s a shitload.”

  “Good thing we have enough ammo to conquer a mid-sized city,” Baker replied brightly.

  His friend nodded. “Looks like we’re going to need every last one of them, too.”

  He glanced over to Curtis, one of the drone geeks, who set down a silver case and unclipped it.

  “Quite the machine you’ve got there,” Johnson said as he approached and glanced over the drone. “What do you think you can do with it that’ll help me out?”

  “I can get you a full view of the battlefield, keep track of how far back that zombie horde goes, watch over our rear…” Curtis trailed off as they suddenly heard some loud easy listening music echoing in the distance over the moans and snarls of the zombies. “And investigate anything else that might pique our interest,” he added, brow furrowing in confusion.

  “How soon can you get that thing in the air?” Johnson asked.

  Curtis held up a finger. “Just need a minute.”

  Johnson stepped back and watched as the guy slammed a battery pack into his drone and put it through a few checks before flipping it on. The whirr of the blades was quite loud, but as it ascended into the sky it grew quieter. Curtis moved towards Johnson and held up the controls with the monitor so they could both look.

  “Start scanning around, see what you can see,” Johnson instructed.

  Curtis did a sweep of the area, starting on the horde that was getting closer and closer. When the river came into view, they noticed two party boats on the water.

  “That music has gotta be coming from Bretz,” Johnson mused. “Can you get over there for a closer look?”

  Curtis nodded and moved the drone into position over the river, lowering it to about fifty feet. He kept cautious of trees and power lines, and lowered to get a good view of the boats. There looked to be only one person on the roof.

  “I woulda thought those boys woulda been firing,” Johnson said, squinting. “Can you zoom in a little bit more?”

  The camera zoomed in on the person, and as it got closer, there was Kowalski, alone and shirtless on the roof of the boat. He slathered a giant glop of sunscreen on his chest, and rubbed it into his nipples with excessive circles of his palms. After biting his lip in apparent pleasure, he looked up at the drone and pretended to cover up like he’d been surprised at being watched.

  “Well,” Johnson said distastefully, “I coulda went my whole life without seeing that.”

  Kowalski grinned and waved at the drone, giving it a thumbs up.

  The Corporal shook his head. “Seems like they’re good to go,” he leaned away from the screen. “Go ahead and start doing a sweep of the rear. If you see any groups larger than twenty, you come get me immediately.”

  Curtis nodded. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Johnson headed back towards Baker as his pilot sat down to concentrate on his sweeps. He pulled out his walkie talkie.

  “Hey Cap, you read me? This is Johnson,” he said.

  “You make it to the bridge?” Kersey replied immediately.

  Johnson nodded. “Yeah, we’re set up and we got a whole lot of attention headed our way.”

  “Gi
ve me a second, I’ll pull up the video on my end,” the Captain replied.

  After a moment, Curtis put his controller in his lap as David took control of his drone.

  “Yeah, I’d say you boys are in for quite the afternoon and evening,” Kersey finally said.

  Johnson chuckled. “I do believe that’s what they call an understatement, there, Captain.”

  “No, shit,” Baker added, crossing his arms.

  “We’re making good progress in Hayden, so hopefully it won’t be too long after nightfall before we reach you,” Kersey replied.

  “Well, we ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Johnson replied.

  “Give me a status update in an hour,” the Captain instructed.

  “Ten four,” the Corporal said. “Johnson out.” He clipped his walkie talkie to his belt and readied his weapon, turning back to Baker. “Well, you ready to do this?”

  Baker took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “All right boys!” Johnson yelled, and aimed at the stampede of zombies. “Let’s start popping some heads!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kersey was so engrossed in the action happening on the monitors that he didn’t notice David had even left until he came back with a tray of coffee cups.

  “Figured everyone could use a little pick me up,” he announced.

  The Captain stood up straight and took a mug gratefully with a smile. “Thanks, this is great.” He took a deep breath of the brew, inhaling the scent happily. “This assault has been going a lot better than I expected it to.”

  “Still get the sense we’re in for a long night,” David replied, passing out the cups to his team. There were a lot of thank yous and happy moans as the delicious coffee was consumed.

  “So, how are we looking out there?” Kersey asked, inclining his head to David’s station.

  He cracked his knuckles and picked up a mug for himself, heading off to his seat. “Let’s find out,” he said. “Boys, if you wouldn't mind transferring the stats over to my screen.”