DEAD AMERICA: THE FIRST WEEK
BOOK 7: PORTLAND
By Derek Slaton
© 2019
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +6
“Smells good,” Zion said as he entered the kitchen of the small apartment he shared with his sister, Monique.
She grinned. “Eggs and potatoes, just like momma used to make.”
Her brother pulled up a stool and sat on it, his linebacker build looking almost comical on such a small seat at the island counter. Monique couldn’t help but chuckle at him as he audibly moaned while shoveling potatoes into his mouth. She was five years older, and even in their twenties it was hard not to see the little boy he used to be.
She filled her own plate and faced him, standing at the island to eat her own breakfast. “I hope momma’s doing okay,” she said quietly, pushing her eggs around with a fork.
Zion stopped shoveling and reached out to grasp her hand. “Mo, you know she’s fine. Ty is taking care of Compton, there’s no way he isn’t. It’s probably locked down tighter than a drum with our old gang holding the fort.”
“Yeah.” She pursed her lips. “I just can’t help but feel like we should be there, with her. If we hadn’t left…”
“If we hadn’t left, then she’d have been mighty disappointed in me,” Zion cut in. “Escaping the gang life was best for both of us, and you know that. Momma knew it, and that’s why she wanted me to take you away from Los Angeles.”
“I know,” Monique replied with a sigh. “It’s just… if I’d have known the apocalypse was going to happen, I maybe would have stayed. Or brought her with us. It would have been nicer to be together.”
“Nobody could have predicted this,” Zion said with a shake of his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Monique took a bite of her potatoes and decided to change the subject. “How’d everything go out there last night?”
“It was quiet,” her brother replied with a shrug. “Few stragglers here and there, but this place is secluded enough that we don’t get many zombies out here as long as we don’t make too much noise.”
“I guess it’s a blessing that the city lost funding for this area,” his sister replied thoughtfully. “I mean, it was nice that the place was so cheap, but it was going to be nice to have shops and stuff being built around here. I remember feeling like it was really too bad that we didn’t move into the city instead of this apartment building in the middle of the woods.”
“Definitely better we ended up here,” Zion agreed. “If we’d have been in the city that would have been a whole different ball game during the outbreak.”
“Yeah.” Monique nodded.
There was a light knock on the door, and Zion put up a hand to his sister before walking over to answer it.
“Hey, Z,” Calvin greeted, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. He was a wiry little guy, the same age as Zion but probably a third of his weight. “I’m workin’ on a new project, and I could use your help.”
“I’m not interested in your projects,” Zion replied, though not unkindly. “There’s more to our survival right now then your weed plants. Plus we’re going on a run this morning, in case you forgot?”
“That’s the thing, I got rid of the weed plants,” Calvin replied, putting up his hands. “The maintenance closet was full of all kinds of vegetable seeds, I guess the original plan for this place was to grow food as foliage in one of the courtyard gardens. I figured if we change my grow-op into an indoor farm, we’ll be set for fresh food.”
Monique nodded her approval from behind Zion, who stared in shock at the stoner.
“My apartment is pretty much just a giant greenhouse now,” Calvin continued. “Brent said that we can grab more lights on our outing today so I can start retrofitting other apartments.”
“That’s…” Zion shook his head. “That’s great.” He turned to Monique, and pulled her into a hug, planting an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Be careful,” she replied, worry knitting her brows.
He smiled. “Always.” He left the apartment and closed the door behind him.
“Dude, your sister is so gorgeous,” Calvin groaned as they wandered towards the stairwell, and then clapped his hands over his mouth, fear widening his eyes as if he hadn’t meant to say it.
Zion just laughed. “Man, she would chew you up and spit you out again,” he assured him. “Keep that in mind if you ever get the bright idea to say that to her face.”
“I thought I was going to die just there,” Calvin admitted.
“Again,” Zion said, an amused smirk on his face. “Keep that feeling in mind if you ever decide to hit on my sister. I don’t need to threaten you. She could kill you with her bare hands.”
Calvin gulped. “Is it bad that makes her even hotter?”
“Ugh.” The bigger man rolled his eyes. “You white boys are suckers for punishment.” He shook his head. “What’s the mission today, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject as they descended the stairs.
“We’re heading to that strip mall just off the interstate, about ten miles away to the north,” Calvin explained. “Just a regular supply run, but also for lights for more farming.”
“Would have been nice to sleep in after my night shift,” Zion muttered.
His companion shrugged. “There’s just not enough people fit to fight. You’d think there would be in a building that can house seventy people, but I guess years of office jobs have made ‘em weak over time.”
The bigger man raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to the main floor, eyeing up the wiry stoner. “And you’re in fighting shape?” he teased.
“Hey, I work out,” Calvin replied, flexing lean muscles in his bicep. “Besides, facing off against zombies are more about determination than strength.”
Zion shrugged. “You’re probably right about that. But strength sure helps.”
“I like having you watching my back, dude,” the shorter man declared.
Zion grinned. “Remember that if you ever think about hitting on my sister.”
CHAPTER TWO
The duo stopped into the armory on the way outside, which was the repurposed security office. When the apocalypse had hit, they’d gathered every weapon they could find in the entire building and put it in here, then added to it as they went on scavenging runs.
“What can I get for you boys?” the older gentleman attending the armory asked as they walked in.
“I’ll take one of them hunting rifles, please,” Calvin said politely, pointing at the one he wanted on the wall. “Grew up shooting game with my pops,” he said to Zion. “Growing up in the country and all.”
“Ah, is that where the weed plants came from, then?” The bigger man raised an eyebrow. “Learn to grow ‘em on the farm?”
Calvin laughed. “Yeah, actually. Family business. Growing is better out there, but selling was definitely better in town.”
“Too bad you had to tear down the family business to grow food instead,” Zion said.
His wiry companion shrugged. “Gotta do what we gotta do in the apocalypse, dude.”
The older gentleman manning the armory slid a handgun across the desk he stood behind, and Zion pursed his lips with distaste. “A black man comes in here and you just assume he’s good with a handgun, huh?” he asked, and then slid the gun back. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.” He walked around the desk and took an aluminum bat off of the wall, along with an ornate-looking dagger. It had definitely been someone’s show piece, and he checked it to make sure that it wasn’t a cheap replica. It was plenty sharp, and he sheathe
d it on his belt.
“A bat and a knife, huh?” Calvin mused as they wandered to the stairwell again to head down to the parking garage.
Zion nodded. “Neither of them run out of ammo,” he explained. “And they’re only loud if I want ‘em to be.”
They exited the stairs into the expansive parking garage, where three men stood around two large black vans. Brent whirled around to face the pair, crossing his gigantic arms. He squared his shoulders and looked distastefully at Zion.
“What took you two so long?” he demanded, nostrils flaring.
Zion scoffed, and turned on his heel, heading back towards the stairs.
“Brent, man,” Calvin said, rolling his eyes. Brent took a deep breath and jogged forward.
“Z, wait,” he called, and his opponent stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, man, just come on, will you?”
Zion turned and faced him, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, and didn’t move. “Calvin was telling me on the way down that you don’t have a lot of able-bodied people to help with this shit,” he said. “And I was up all night guarding the perimeter so you fucks could get your beauty sleep. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” Brent muttered, and waved him forward. “Come on, now, please?”
They rejoined the group and Calvin shook his head at Zion, who simply shrugged. He wasn’t about to take any shit from Brent, when he was the one doing him a favor.
“Cory and I will take the second van,” Jerry, the biggest hulk of them all, motioned behind him. Having been a personal trainer before the apocalypse, he was definitely a good guy to have around. Cory was only slightly smaller, being his best friend and coworker at the gym.
Brent nodded and headed for the lead van, Zion and Calvin skirting to the passenger’s side. Calvin opened the passenger door with a flourish.
“After you,” he declared dramatically.
Zion shook his head and climbed up into the seat, jerking the door shut right out of Calvin’s hand. He clambered into the middle seat in the back, leaning his gun so that it was accessible as he reached over to slide the door shut.
Brent started the vehicle, a somber expression on his face. Zion studied him, and not for the first time. The ex-football player had quite the alpha personality, and as soon as shit had hit the fan he’d taken charge of the motley crew of apartment-dwellers. It suited most people, but occasionally he could be a bit of a power-tripping brat, and it was up to men like Zion to put him in his place.
He tucked his bat between his legs, reclining his seat a bit to get comfy for their ride.
CHAPTER THREE
There were only a few straggler zombies that Calvin took out easily from the windows of the vehicle on the way down the long driveway. Not many made it this far, sticking mostly to the city, which was why their complex was a great place to hide out. With the forest too it was difficult for zombies to become hordes as they were too stupid to be able to push through the trees, opting to fall and stagger around instead.
When they crested the tree line, Zion surveyed the pillars of smoke rising from the city proper. Calvin leaned forward from the backseat.
“Looks like the smoke isn’t as bad as it was after all that rain we got,” he mused.
It had definitely lessened. Zion wasn’t sure if that were necessarily a good thing, considering the fires likely took care of a decent amount of zombies. Bright lights also seemed to attract them, and keeping the corpses in the city and away from them was a definite plus. However, for survivors… spreading fire could mean even more trouble for those that were stuck down there.
“The fuckers are slowing down, too,” Brent said. “I don’t know if it’s the cold or if they’re rotting, but it’s getting easier to take them out.”
“Still need to be careful,” Zion replied gruffly. “If it is that they’re just rotting, then any fresh ones will still be fast and strong.”
Calvin shivered. “Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense why they’re so strong. They’re fuckin’ dead.”
Zion pursed his lips. Sometimes it was better not to worry about the why behind things one couldn’t change.
“So what’s the plan today?” he asked, not bothering to turn to Brent.
The driver nodded in his periphery. “There’s a big strip mall about ten miles north of the city,” he began. “It’s got a hardware store and a big superstore, as well as a few fast food chains. Tools, supplies, and food. Hopefully.
“Zombie population should be low, considering that it’s not right in the city, so we should be able to just get in and out, easy peasy.”
Zion stifled a snort. Nothing was ever ‘easy peasy’, but he didn’t feel like arguing.
There were cars strewn everywhere along the side of the road, some with zombies stuck inside. Families that had been mortally hurt in accidents and left to turn into the undead with their seat belts still on. Banging at the windows with rotting hands and scraping teeth, desperate to get out and eat something warm and living.
The devastation was real. It was easy to forget what it was really like out here in the peacefulness of the apartment complex, which Zion knew was a good thing. That’s what he wanted for the residents there, for his sister. To just live without worry while the able-bodied people came out into this carnage to provide for them. The less the others had to experience this insanity, the better.
Stores just off the interstate burned, cars smashed into the fronts of them, zombies peppering the landscape and staggering about. These stores had clearly already been looted, or at least what was left of them. It wasn’t even worth checking with the shape they were in.
Brent exited the highway, onto a thin street that led to the strip mall. His mouth set into a grim line as he took in the smashed front doors of both the hardware store and the super-center.
“That doesn’t look very promising,” Calvin piped up, echoing everyone’s thoughts.
Brent cut the engine and checked his weapons. “Well, we’re here, so we might as well check it out,” he declared, and opened the driver’s side door, sweeping his eyes around for any company as Jerry and Cory turned off their van as well.
They grouped in front of the lead vehicle.
“This looks like a waste of time,” Jerry spoke up, sounding defeated.
Brent shook his head. “Only a waste of an opportunity if we don’t use it,” he said. “We’re already here. Since it’ll be an easy sweep, we’ll split into two teams. Zion, you’re with me in the hardware store, Jerry and Cory, you take the super-center.
“Calvin,” he turned to the wiry younger man, “you climb up on top of the van and keep watch. Don’t fire that rifle unless it’s an emergency, we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Calvin replied with a sloppy salute, and tossed his rifle up onto the roof of the van before clambering up himself. He laid down on his stomach, peering around, and the two sets of two broke off towards their respective stores.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jerry stepped through what was left of the busted glass door of the superstore, shaking his head at the carnage inside. “We’re not going to find shit,” he said with a sigh as he waited for Cory to duck in after him. “This place is a mess.”
“I miss the good ol’ days,” his friend replied with wistfulness in his voice. “When all we had to worry about was not oversleeping to open the gym.”
Jerry nodded as they began to move up one of the aisles. “And whether or not we were overbooking.”
“And how to get more hot girls to buy gym memberships.” Cory smirked. “Remember Danielle?”
The ex-trainer scoffed. “Of course I remember Danielle,” he replied. “How could anyone forget Danielle?”
“I hope you ain’t mad, but I gave her a free membership,” his friend said with a grin.
Jerry chuckled, bumping him with his elbow. “No hard feelings, I gave her a lot more than that,” he said.
Two zombies staggered around th
e end of a shelf housing a few random canned goods and not much else, and Cory darted forward to stab the corpses in the head.
“This isn’t going to make much of a difference.” Jerry sighed, lifting up one of the cans of tomato sauce.
Cory shrugged. “Might as well bag it anyway. The girls can work magic with whatever we bring back, you know that.”
“When you’re right, you’re right,” his friend agreed. They bagged up the few cans on the empty shelves and continued on their way. “Might as well check out the back, see if there’s anything left in the storage area.”
As they came out the other end of the aisle they were in, they froze at the sound of quick footsteps. That was definitely more deliberate and much faster than a zombie. They both drew their guns, quietly stalking after the noise, until they came to the open door of the employee break room.
Jerry gave a silent countdown and then they both burst inside, guns aimed.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” a man screamed. He was dressed in military fatigues, but cowered in the corner with his hands in the air.
“Who are you?” Jerry barked, eyes hard and distrustful even as Cory lowered his weapon.
“Please,” the man begged.
Cory shook his head. “We’re not going to shoot you man, but we need to be careful, okay? You know how it is these days,” he said gently. “What are you doing here by yourself? Did you go AWOL?”
The man drew in a deep ragged breath. “P-please, just bring me back to your camp with you. Please help me.”
Jerry clenched his jaw. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t know.” Cory shrugged at his best friend. “But we can’t leave him here. Let’s bring him to Brent and see what he says.”
The ex-trainer took a step back, but didn’t stop aiming his gun. “All right, get up. We’re taking you outside.”
***
“-and that’s when we took state for the first time,” Brent was saying as they loaded up a flatbed cart with glass panels and greenhouse lights. Zion tried not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t really interested in Brent’s glory days on the football field, but they didn’t really have anything to talk about. It was easier to let the leader chatter away and give a grunt here or there to let him know he was still semi-listening.
Dead America The First Week (Book 7): Portland Page 1
