“Rest of you take five,” the Sergeant said, “get some chow from the Super Center.”
The four men shared glances, looking at him and then the young soldier. They nodded at him, silently paying their respects and thanking him for his service that night. As they cleared out, the kid stood firm.
“Is it time, sir?” he asked.
“It is, soldier,” Copeland replied. “You’ve done a damn fine job. I couldn’t ask for a braver soldier to be under my command.”
The kid nodded, but remained stoic. “Thank you sir, that means a lot to me.”
“Do you have any requests?” Copeland asked.
“Just one, sir,” the young man said politely. “I would like to go out a warrior.”
The Sergeant shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that, son.”
“I do, sir,” the kid replied. “If you… do what you need to do right now, it won’t feel like I’m a warrior. It will feel like I’m being put down like an old dog.”
Copeland nodded thoughtfully. “What would you like, then?”
The young soldier set down his guns and ammo and pulled his knife. “With your permission sir,” he began, “I would like to hop that barrier and go slaughter as many of those things as I can before they overwhelm me. Using my knife only, so that none of the ammunition goes to waste. Even if there is enough to me to reanimate, I won’t be a runner.”
Copeland pursed his lips. “You know that goes against direct orders,” he said.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the soldier replied.
The Sergeant cracked a smile, impressed at the young man’s quip. He contemplated for another moment, weighing his options, and then nodded.
“Happy hunting, soldier,” he finally said, and saluted the kid.
The young man saluted him back, and then hopped the barricade, hobbling towards the zombie horde. Copeland watched, eyes shining, as he stabbed a couple of stragglers in the back of the head before moving up towards the bulk.
The Sergeant turned around and walked away from the barricade back towards the Super Center for a bite to eat.
END
Up next: The next phase of the operation. Corporal Herrera joins a team air dropping onto Mercer Island to create a diversion zone in “Seattle - Part 2”.
SEATTLE - PART. 2
DEAD AMERICA: THE NORTHWEST INVASION
BOOK 4
BY DEREK SLATON
© 2020
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +23
Captain Kersey sat in his makeshift office, anxiously looking at his watch as the time approached one in the morning. “Those planes should have been back by now,” he muttered, and stood up.
He paced back and forth, unable to stop himself from imagining the planes crashed and burning amidst a sea of undead runners wearing the faces of his soldiers. They’d left a little less than an hour ago to drop off Sergeant Copeland and the northern blockade group.
A knock at the door ceased his nervous pacing. “Come in,” he said.
David, his civilian geek tech specialist, entered the office carrying a mug of steaming coffee. “Here,” he said, “thought you might need a pick me up. These all-nighters can be a bitch if you aren’t properly lubricated.”
“Appreciate it,” Kersey replied with a sigh, and took the ceramic mug, “but given how rundown this airport is, I’m a little concerned about the quality in this cup.”
David chuckled. “Beggars being choosers, huh?” he teased.
The Captain shared his laugh and raised his mug in a cheers before taking a small sip.
“Don’t worry, I pulled it from a gas station in town,” David said, leaning on the desk. “Needed to stock up on energy drinks.”
Kersey nodded and then took a deep breath. “Has… has there been any word on the planes?”
“As a matter of fact, just heard from the lead pilot,” David replied with a nod. “They hit a headwind after dropping off the team, so they were delayed a bit. Should be landing in the next ten minutes or so.”
Kersey’s stomach lifted a little at the news. “How long to get them back in the air?” he asked.
“I have the refueling truck on standby,” David explained, “so it shouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen minutes or so.”
The Captain checked his watch, shaking his head with a frown. “Barely an hour in and we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule.”
“Given that you’ve scraped together so much civilian aircraft and materials, it’s a miracle these missions are happening at all,” David pointed out.
Kersey tilted his head back and forth and then took a sip of his coffee. “This is true.”
David pulled a can of his energy drink of choice from his deep pocket and cracked it open with a whzzztt, toasting the Captain before taking a long gulp.
“Do you have printouts for the Mercer Island mission?” Kersey finally asked.
David nodded as he swallowed his mouthful. “Yeah, I handed them off to the Sergeant leading that mission,” he said. “He asked if he could give them a look over before you addressed them.”
“Guess I should look busy, huh?” Kersey asked, scratching the back of his head.
David smirked and shook his head. “Nah, you’re good,” he replied. “Perks of being a Captain, they wait on you.”
Kersey smiled and took another thoughtful sip of coffee. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then headed out of the office to the hangar where the team was ready.
“What do you want me to focus on next?” David asked, following him out.
“Corporal Bretz will be up at 0-three hundred,” Kersey replied. “Please make sure we have all the maps and plans ready for him.”
The tech specialist nodded. “I’ll make it happen, Captain,” he said, and then headed off briskly for his work area.
Kersey made the long walk across the airstrip, taking in the sight of numerous people moving in unison, making every preparation necessary. As he moved into the hangar, there was a group of men off to the side prepping their parachutes and gear.
As soon as he got close, Sergeant McCarty immediately hopped up from his kneeling position and rushed over. “Captain Kersey,” he declared with a firm salute. “I’m Sergeant McCarty, ready to do battle for you, sir.”
Kersey returned the salute to the upbeat man. “Thank you, Sergeant,” he replied. “I really appreciate you volunteering for this mission.”
“When I heard it involved a rough terrain landing, I knew I was the man for the job,” McCarty said with a sharp nod.
The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Hopefully you can impart some of your experience onto this group,” he said, motioning to the preparing soldiers, “because unless I’m mistaken, you’re the only one who has made a rough terrain landing.”
“Honestly, there weren’t many of us to begin with,” McCarty admitted. “One of the fringe benefits of almost always having an overwhelming force is that you rarely have to get sneaky to land in a war zone.”
Kersey nodded thoughtfully. “Plus, I’m sure it helped that the desert isn’t exactly known for its lush forests,” he added.
“Truth be told,” the Sergeant replied with a chuckle, “I’d much rather land in the trees than suffer through another one of those summers.”
The Captain clapped him on the back. “Well, today’s your lucky day,” he said, “because you’re getting your wish.”
“Thank you, sir,” McCarty replied, straightening his shoulders.
“Why don’t you go ahead and pass out those maps,” Kersey said, motioning to the cluster of papers in his hand, “and we’ll get started.”
The Sergeant nodded and turned to his men, handing out the maps. “All right, all right,” he said as he moved, “listen up. The Captain here is going to go over the mission objectives, and then I’m going to fill you in on everything else you need to know.” He stepped aside, motioning to Kersey. “Floor is yours, Captain.”
The soldiers tu
rned their attention on their superior, a few of them relaxing to study the island maps.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Kersey said with a nod, and then raised his chin. “Good morning, men.” He waited for the murmured replies of the tired soldiers, and then continued, “Today we have a top priority mission that is vital to the success of this invasion. What you are looking at on the map there is Mercer Island. Pre-war, it was home to twenty-six thousand residents, most of them wealthier than any of us could ever hope to dream of being. While their wealth bought them big houses in a secluded area, it didn’t buy them safety from the apocalypse.” He paused, clasping his hands in front of him. “Satellite imagery shows that a significant number of the twenty-six thousand residents have not only been turned, but they’re out and about. And due to some plane maintenance issues, there are only going to be thirty of you going in to take them on.”
Hisses and whispers erupted throughout the soldiers, and McCarty’s brow furrowed.
“Quiet down!” he barked. “Captain’s speaking!”
Kersey inclined his head towards him. “Thank you, Sergeant,” he said. “I know the odds are stacked against you, and frankly they’re stacked against all of us. This invasion is a gamble, and if we don’t take risks and pull it off, then everything is over.” He crossed his arms. “I hope each and every one of you understands that.”
There was a ripple in the affirmative, though the faces were still concerned.
“The Captain did not year you!” McCarty barked.
“Yes, sir!” the soldiers declared in unison.
Kersey nodded to him and then addressed the men. “If you will look at the southeast portion of your map, you will see a small forest circled,” he began. “This is your landing zone. People in D.C. have been monitoring this island for the last twenty-four hours, and this is the only place where there aren’t huge congregations of zombies. Not going to lie, it’s going to hurt.”
“A lot,” McCarty added brightly.
Private Gilbert raised his hand, scowling deeply. Corporal Herrera grabbed his arm from beside him, trying to pull it back down, but Gilbert tore his body away and kept his arm staunchly in the air.
“What is it, Private?” Kersey asked, tone clipped. He couldn’t help but still feel disdain for the ex-Sergeant that had cost so many lives with his ego.
Gilbert lowered his hand. “Sir, with all due respect,” he said, raising his chin, “why aren’t we doing a water landing? Wouldn’t that be safer?”
“Sergeant, would you care to take that one?” the Captain asked, cocking his head.
McCarty shot daggers at the middle-aged soldier. “Because Private, when you combine the amount of gear you will be hauling into battle with your complete lack of experience in water landings, half of you would drown while the other half would wish you drowned,” he replied, and then glanced back at Kersey. “Sir.”
The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Does that answer your question, Private?”
Gilbert frowned and lowered his gaze, nodding.
“Okay, just to the southwest of the forest, you’ll see a building circled,” Kersey continued, holding up his own map. “This is your rally point. It’s a former country club, so the hope is that it’ll be relatively deserted. First to arrive will secure the building, or if it appears to be too overwhelmed, secure a perimeter on the eighteenth green. From there, you will split off into two teams. The bridge team will be tasked with working their way to this shopping complex in the north.” He tapped at the area on the map, holding it up high so the men could see. “To secure the trucks in the back of these two stores. It is a three and a half mile hike from the rally point, so this team will have to move and move quickly.”
McCarty nodded. “I will be leading this team personally,” he said, “so whoever is with me had better be ready to keep pace.”
“You will have the standard layout of two hundred and ten rounds,” Kersey added, “along with your melee weapons and sidearm, so avoiding detection is going to be key to this mission succeeding. Once the trucks are secure, you are to proceed to the I-ninety bridges to the east and west at the northernmost part of the island. You won’t be able to plug them up completely, but the trucks should provide enough of a barricade to hold back the majority of the horde that will be coming from downtown and the suburbs.”
Private Dixon raised his hand, his eyes one of the only sets that were bright at the ungodly hour.
Kersey pointed at him. “Yes… um…” He struggled to place the soldier’s name.
“Private Dixon, sir,” the young man replied.
The Captain nodded. “Go ahead,” he said.
“Sir, why not just blow the bridges?” Dixon asked.
Kersey shrugged. “Because someone with a much higher pay grade decided they wanted to keep them up,” he replied.
“Fair enough,” Dixon agreed with a firm nod.
“Now, the second team has a two front mission,” Kersey continued. “Their first task is to clear the high school to the southwest of the country club. This one is going to be dangerous, as the sports fields appear to be packed with zombies. The quieter you can do this the better, because this is going to be a rally point for the reinforcements arriving by boat.” He held up a hand. “Which brings me to your second objective. About half a mile to the west are a string of docks that must be secured with the route to the school being cleared. As we speak, ship-based soldiers are departing for Vashon Island, which appears to be loaded down with the boats of people who were fleeing the outbreak in the early hours of this. Shortly after dawn, you can expect the first batch of soldiers to be arriving on the island, and they’re going to need a place to stage.” He raised his chin. “Once the sun is up, your orders are to begin clearing the island of any zombie not secure in a structure. When this happens, it’s imperative that the truck blockade is in place, because that noise is going to attract a lot of attention.”
Private Dixon raised his hand again, and Sergeant McCarty narrowed his eyes.
“Private!” he barked.
Kersey held up a hand to the annoyed Sergeant to calm him down. “It’s okay, Sergeant,” the Captain assured him. “I’m happy to answer questions. What is it, Private?”
“Sir, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’re going to do our job and whip zombie ass on Mercer Island,” Dixon began, lowering his hand. “However, I think we’d all like to know exactly why we are going on what amounts to a suicide mission? I think knowing how we fit into the grand scheme of things would help to motivate us.”
McCarty crossed his arms, eyes blazing. “Doing your job and surviving should be motivation enough, Private!” he snapped.
“Private Dixon is right,” Kersey cut in. “It doesn’t seem fair to drop you right in the thick of things, outnumbered eight hundred to one, and not know why. Plus, it’s not like we have to worry about the mission details falling into enemy hands.”
There was a ripple of chuckles, albeit nervous ones.
Kersey took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him. “In a nutshell, you are going to be turning Mercer Island into one giant decoy,” he explained. “Once it’s secure, we are going to be moving in hundreds of men and equipment to drum up as much noise as possible so that the zombies on both sides of the mainland will come to the waterfront. This is not only going to make life a whole lot easier when we start moving in the main force from the east, but will also greatly reduce the potential they get overrun by a massive horde.”
The soldiers glanced at one another, nodding in approval.
“Knowing some of these boys like I do,” Dixon piped up, “I can safely say we’ve all been called worse things than decoys before.”
The room erupted into laughter, with even McCarty cracking a smile.
The roar of planes landing behind them cut through the air, and the Sergeant raised a hand, whirling it above his head, snapping back into work mode.
“Sounds like our ride, boys!” he barked. “Let’s st
art getting suited up!”
Kersey straightened his shoulders. “Be safe out there,” he declared.
There was a loud, emphatic chorus in the affirmative, and he gave them an appraising nod. He stepped to the side to allow them to get ready, but caught Herrera’s eye and waved for him to come over.
“Yes, Captain?” the Corporal asked as he approached.
Kersey leaned in, lowering his voice. “Wanted to check with you and see how our problem child is doing?” he asked.
“Gilbert?” Herrera replied and shook his head. “He’s still pouting a little from being demoted, but he’s doing what I tell him to. Might have a little lip behind it, but he complies.”
Kersey nodded, brow furrowed. “You know if you have any issues with him…” He let the insinuation hang in the air, and the Corporal playfully gave him a finger gun.
“Don’t worry sir,” Herrera assured him, “he’s put his last person in danger.”
The two men turned to see Private Dixon zipping around to the other men in the squad, helping them with their packs and giving words of encouragement, sometimes making them laugh.
“What do you know about Dixon, there?” Kersey asked.
Herrera shrugged. “Only been with him the last couple of days,” he admitted. “Seems capable enough for a grunt.”
“Looks like he has the trust of the men,” Kersey pointed out. “Not an easy thing to get.”
The Corporal smirked, a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t know, I found it to be pretty easy.”
“Well, not everybody gets to beat down a superior officer after they endanger the unit,” Kersey shot back, and they shared a small laugh.
McCarty glanced over and pursed his lips. “Corporal, are you waiting on an invitation to join this excursion?” he demanded. “Because if you so require it, I can send a runner out to find a silver platter with which I can deliver one to you.”
Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 21
