“Not a problem,” Calvin replied.
“All right,” Zion said, glancing at Mateo, “let’s see what you can do.” He cut the engine, and they slid out of the truck, quickly surveying the immediate area for threats. Other than the pack to their friend and the stragglers behind, there was nothing else coming out of the woodwork.
Zion reached into the back seat, pulling out his makeshift two-by-four that Tori and her friends had crafted for him, the handle covered in duct tape, still covered in dried blood on the business end.
Calvin walked to the back of the truck, hopping up into the back. He knelt behind the tailgate, resting his rifle on top of it. He looked through the scope, getting a read on the closest zombie, what had once been a woman missing an arm.
“Looks like a zombie got a to-go order,” he muttered to himself, and then shook his head at the groaner of a joke. He refocused, dialing in his sights, waiting for the zombie to cross the threshold up the block. As soon as its foot touched the intersection, he squeezed the trigger.
Its head exploded in a satisfying array of blood, sending the body to the ground in a heap. He chambered another round and continued to wait, the next zombie about fifteen yards behind her.
“Easiest detail I’ve had in a while,” he murmured, and then he pulled back from his scope, checking his immediate left and right just to back up his claim. Nothing appeared to be drawn to the noise of his gun. “Guess they’re all at the warehouse,” he said to himself.
Meanwhile, the other two moved towards the horde, Mateo flinching as Calvin’s first round went off.
“Don’t go getting soft on me, now,” Zion said, and it was a joke, but the undertone had a hint of worry.
Mateo shook his head. “Sorry,” he replied, “just been a while since I’ve heard gunshots going off close by.”
“It’s all good,” Zion assured him. “Just don’t let it break your concentration.”
His companion nodded and pulled out his two blades from the holsters at his sides. One was the foot-long curved blade, and the other was a meat cleaver, both of them shiny and unbelievably sharp.
As they walked up, a few of the zombies broke away from the building, attracted by the gunshots. The trio made it within fifteen yards before another shot cracked, and more zombies turned towards the truck.
“Which one do you want?” Zion asked.
Mateo inclined his head. “I’ll take the trio,” he said.
Zion nodded, impressed at the bravado. “Have at it,” he said, waving his companion forward.
Mateo walked up confidently to the trio of zombies, and the lead of the triangle lunged at him, clad in designer jeans and a tattered polo shirt. The living man went into a flurry of slashes, the cleaver taking off both of the creature's arms and the long blade slipping up through the ghoul’s chin like butter.
He pulled back on the blade and fell into a crouch as the two behind came forward, shoulder to shoulder. Mateo slashed at throat level, cutting deep into their necks but not quite far enough to sever their heads. He flipped the cleaver around and attacked with the blunt end, coming across his body and catching the left zombie on the side of the head.
The impact sent the head clean off its body from its weakened severed neck, and slammed into its partner, partially knocking the second zombie’s head off. It fell to the ground and continued to moan and gnash its teeth as the head held on by a few tendons. Mateo jabbed down into its eye socket with the long knife, silencing it.
Zion began a slow clap, shaking his head. “My apologies on doubting you, sir,” he said sincerely.
“A lot of people underestimate me,” Mateo admitted, tossing him a smirk. “Always fun to prove them wrong.”
Zion chuckled as he readied his weapon and stepped up next to his companion. Two more zombies approached, still a little ways ahead of the main horde of twenty or so that had broken off due to Calvin’s firing.
“Hang tight,” he instructed, holding up his weapon. “I wanna show you who you are partnered with.”
Mateo playfully extended his hand, presenting the duo of ghouls to Zion, who headed forward. He stopped about five yards away from the two monsters, who kept stride with one another.
Zion put the large weapon on his shoulder like a bat, playfully pointing to left field like he was Babe Ruth calling his shot. When they got close, he swung with all his might, catching the creature on the side of the head and driving it through its partner.
The blow partially disintegrated the zombie’s head, sending a splatter of blood through the air. The corpse crashed down on top of its partner, trapping it for a moment. Zion stood over it and drove the tip of the weapon into its face, crushing it.
Mateo playfully tapped his two metallic weapons together, praising his new friend. “Impressive,” he declared. “However, I need to remember to keep a few feet back so I don’t get caught in the backswing.”
“Good call,” Zion agreed.
They looked towards the warehouse, seeing twenty-five or so creatures moving towards them, easily twenty yards away. The pack was fairly thick, with only a few feet between each group.
“So, what do you think?” Zion asked, wiggling his weapon. “I knock ‘em down, and you slice ‘em up?”
Mateo readied his blades, flashing and glinting in the sun. “Batter up, my friend,” he said.
Zion grinned and rushed forward towards the right flank of creatures. He quickly reared back and swung hard, catching a zombie in the ribcage and sending it tumbling back into several others. He darted to the left, extending the two-by-four in front of him and ramming it into the center of a ghoul’s chest and sending it back, staggering several more of its brethren and giving him room to tee up another swing.
Meanwhile, Mateo ran up, his cleaver swinging upward and catching a fallen zombie struggling to sit up in the face. The blade created a thin slit all the way up through the skull, cutting the brain clean in half. He stabbed down with the long blade into the forehead of another fallen ghoul, and then immediately slashed the head off of another with the cleaver in a deadly dance.
As he stepped up to the next group, Zion swung mightily one more time, knocking down another four creatures. He stepped back and tugged on his companion’s arm, pulling him lightly back towards the truck.
“Something wrong?” Mateo asked.
“Nah,” Zion replied, shaking his head. “Just giving them a chance to break up a bit. We are a two man wrecking crew, but there’s no sense in risking getting in over our heads.”
His partner nodded and backed up about ten yards. They waited patiently as the eight or so zombies on the ground staggered to get back to their feet, tripping up a few of their friends in the process. A few moments later, the horde of twenty had been broken up into smaller, more manageable groups.
“Let’s clear this batch and do the same retreat,” Zion suggested. “You ready?”
Mateo nodded. “Beat ‘em down,” he replied.
The two of them worked in tandem for several minutes, systematically dispatching the threat. Zion stepped up to the last creature that was trying to pull itself off of the ground after falling. He swung the hunk of wood like a golf club, catching the ghoul underneath the chin and ripping the head clean off. As the head landed several feet away, he let out a cheer and threw up his arms, celebrating the decent chip.
“Good distance there, my friend,” Mateo said with a grin.
Zion returned it as he turned around. “Yeah, golf was never really my game,” he admitted, “but my sister did take me to the driving range a few times before all this.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Mateo asked.
“Oh yeah,” Zion said, nodding, “great way to let out frustration while still being competitive with the guy next to you.”
His companion chewed over the words. “Never thought of it like that,” he admitted.
A few more shots rang out from behind them in rapid succession, and they turned towards the truck just in time to see Calvin hop d
own and head towards them.
“Okay, that’s the last of the stragglers,” the sniper announced. “Doesn’t look like anything else is too close by, at least not in numbers we need to worry about.”
Zion clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let’s hurry up and get what we need before that changes,” he suggested.
They headed briskly towards the building, hopping over corpses, and Calvin checked the front door first. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He shook the door a few times, a clanging metallic sound coming from the inside.
“Locked up tight,” he said, stepping back. “And sounds like it’s chained, too.”
Zion turned to Mateo. “Is there a back entrance?” he asked.
“There’s a small loading dock in the back,” his companion replied.
Zion nodded and led the trio around the side of the building, slowing at the corner. He peeked around to make sure there was no gaggle of undead back there and saw the area empty.
There was a four-foot high concrete slab against the back of the building, and a metal rolling door that opened to the side.
Calvin tried the door, but it was also locked. “Ideas?” he asked.
Zion looked up at the horizontal windows above and motioned for the others to get out of the way. Once they were clear, he swung up with his weapon, smashing one of the panes of glass.
“Okay,” he said, “which one of you wants to go?”
Mateo holstered his blades and raised a hand. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I know the layout in there, so if there is company, I know where I can go.”
“Hell, I’m not gonna argue that,” Calvin quipped.
Zion smirked at him. “You just don’t wanna go.”
“And?” Calvin shrugged.
Zion chuckled and laced his fingers together, creating a step for Mateo to vault upwards through the window. “Get in and get the door open,” he instructed. “We’ll sweep it together.”
His companion nodded and placed his boot into Zion’s cupped hands. As the strong man boosted him up, he grabbed on to the edge of the window, careful to avoid jagged glass, and hooked a leg up into the frame. He rolled his body inside and then landed with a thud on the floor.
“You okay?” Zion called from outside.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Mateo replied, and looked around to make sure there were no threats in the immediate area. When he was sure he was alone, he clicked the lock on the sliding door and dragged it open. After about eighteen inches, it snagged, and he noticed a chain along the ground. “Looks like it’s secured with a padlock,” he reported.
Mateo bent down to unlatch it, taking a knee.
“Stay down!” Calvin suddenly cried from the other side of the opening and raised his weapon through the hole. He fired once, taking out a zombie that had been lumbering out of the shadows. He scanned the area. “I don’t see anything else.”
Mateo quickly popped open the lock and tossed it aside, opening the door. “Got it!” he said and then clapped Calvin on the shoulder. “Thank you, friend.”
“No problem,” the sniper replied, and he and Zion crossed the threshold.
The trio turned towards the main part of the warehouse, staring wide-eyed at pallets and boxes full of goods.
“Jackpot,” Calvin breathed.
Zion raised a hand. “Clear first, then shop,” he reminded them.
The trio moved quickly but carefully through the space, checking every corner of the building and stacks of boxes. As they reached the other side, they all yelled out that they hadn’t found anything, and converged together on the far end.
“Calvin, keep watch on the door while Mateo and I see what we got,” Zion instructed.
“On it,” the sniper replied, and headed back off towards the sliding door.
Zion studied the labels on the nearest boxes, seeing everything was in Spanish. “So,” he drawled, “you tell me, did we do good?”
Mateo studied one stack of boxes and then moved on to a few others. “Dried beans,” he murmured, “this one os masa flour… this one is canned tomatoes…”
“At the very least we should get a few weeks of meals out of these,” Zion said.
His companion nodded. “Without a doubt,” he replied. “My grandmama grew up dirt poor and knows how to stretch every bean. You’re in good hands, my friend.”
Calvin reached the door and scanned the area, keeping watch on the back lot for movement. There was none, but in the distance he heard a low, metallic roar, and his ears perked up.
“What in the hell is that?” he muttered to himself, as the sound grew louder. It soon became clear that there were multiple roars, competing with each other for noise. “Zion!” he called.
“What is it?” Zion asked, heading to the doorway.
“Something’s up, man,” Calvin replied.
His friend reached him, brow furrowing. “Well, what is it?” He stopped at the noise and glanced at Mateo with a questioning gaze.
“Where’s it coming from?” Mateo asked as he approached.
“Can’t tell,” Calvin replied.
A moment later, the roar was so loud it was almost deafening. They looked up and their eyes widened at the sight of several tomahawk missiles flying overhead.
“What the fuck?!” Calvin screamed.
Seconds later there were several loud, ferocious explosions in the distance, rattling the building. The men shared looks of panic and concern. Several more explosions went off, mostly to the north, and Zion pushed the sickening feeling out of his gut to take control.
“Lock this bitch up tight, we’ll come back for it later,” he barked. “We gotta get back up to Wendy’s camp.”
Calvin slammed the door shut behind them, opening it up just enough so that he could secure the chain inside. After that, they sprinted back around to the truck, hopping in.
As Zion fired up the engine, several plumes of smoke rose to the north. “Mother of god, what the fuck is going on?”
CHAPTER SIX
Zion sped towards the camp, seeing huge pillars of smoke rising ahead. His eyes were intense and focused as he seethed with rage.
Mateo was nervous, worried about his family in the camp, and Calvin simply sat dumbstruck, staring in every direction, still in shock from the explosions.
“Jesus christ man, it’s everywhere,” he breathed, seeing several columns of thick smoke around the city.
Zion clenched his jaw. “I know,” he said.
Calvin leaned forward to look at the approaching plume, stretching hundreds of feet into the air. “What the hell were those things?” he demanded. “Fucking missiles?”
“Sounded like it,” Mateo replied.
“But from who?” Calvin asked. “Why? What the fuck?” He scrubbed his hands down his face.
Zion gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, punching the gas. His stomach sank lower and lower as they grew closer to the camp. What if the missile had hit it? Of course, even if it didn’t, hitting close enough would be just as dangerous as the noise would attract zombies towards whatever damage was done.
They were still a few miles away when they came around a bend and Zion slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in front of a horde easily several hundred zombies strong. They shambled in the direction of the camp.
“Now what?!” Calvin cried.
Zion revved the engine several times, staring straight ahead. “Buckle up,” he demanded.
Calvin swallowed hard. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, and then squeezed up against the door. He motioned for Mateo to get closer to him. He did, and Calvin managed to buckle the seatbelt around both of them. Zion clicked his own belt on, and then gunned it, tires squealing as the truck peeled out.
As he picked up speed, he drifted to the right side of the road, getting into the shoulder where the zombies weren’t as thick. The first creature smacked hard, flying off into the horde and vanishing as it fell into the sea.
Several more cracked off of the front of the vehicle, jostl
ing everyone inside. As the horde thickened, Zion drove almost completely off of the road into the grass. Tree branches bounced off of the right side of the truck while zombies bounced off of the left.
The constant sound of wood and bone crunching against the truck was sickening, and damaging to the truck. Numerous cracks appeared in the windshield, blood and leaves sticking to it. Zion didn’t let up, speeding even faster.
The front passenger tire hit a deep divot in the grass, sending the right side lurching up. Mateo and Calvin held on for dear life as Zion gave the gas one more push. As they approached the other side of the horde, he steered back onto the road, plowing through another batch of creatures as he broke through, leaving them in the dust.
Calvin whirled around and looked back at the horde they’d just broken through, lumbering after them, arms outstretched. “How close are we?” he asked.
“A mile at most,” Zion replied.
“That gives us, what,” Calvin stammered, “thirty minutes at most before those things get here?”
Zion nodded firmly, not taking his eyes off of the road. “Then you’d better start coming up with a plan.”
“What the hell are you gonna do?” the sniper demanded.
“Destroy,” Zion replied. He made a hard right turn onto the road where Wendy’s camp was. As he approached, his chest tightened as he saw a missile had landed a block away from the edge of the gate. The impact had ripped through the fencing, creating a gaping hole where several zombies were already working their way through.
Gunshots filled the air in the distance, popping off one right after the other. The trio sat in stunned silence for a moment before Zion snapped back to action and punched the gas again.
The truck made it up to speed quickly, heading straight for the hole in the gate. Calvin gripped the handle above his head to brace for impact as the vehicle hit some debris just short of it. They launched slightly into the air, crashing through the handful of zombies at chest level, demolishing them.
Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 3
