Dead America - El Paso Pt. 4 (Dead America - The Third Week Book 1)

by Derek Slaton

  “Back it up now, I’m not losing any eyebrows today,” he bellowed.

  Clara loaded up another bottle of kerosene and gave the gun several pumps before aiming it high. She sent another long blast of flame arching high through the air, hoping to hit the ones closest to the house.

  “Whoops,” she muttered as the front edge of the flames landed on the roof.

  The Sergeant hung out of the window as the house began to catch fire. “Nice shootin’, Tex.”

  “Might have given that one a couple of pumps too many,” Clara admitted.

  Hammond laughed. “You think?” He fired a few more shots at some nearby zombies, and then they watched as the flames fully engulfed the mini-horde and the house, trapping the ones who’d entered through the bay window in search of their previous meal.

  Charred corpses filled the front lawn, no moving creatures within ten yards of the truck.

  “I’d say our job here is done, wouldn’t you?” Hammond asked.

  Clara nodded. “Damn straight.”

  “Come on, let’s go get a refill,” the Sergeant said and put the truck in gear. Clara knelt down and held on as they sped back to the gas station, leaving the flaming wreckage in their wake. On the way, she caught a glimpse of the trio of men rushing up another street, approaching the next house that faced the school.

  They paused and crouched about forty yards from it, noting the dozen zombies milling about outside.

  “Fucking hell, can’t anything be easy?” Reed muttered.

  Landry shook his head. “Buck up, sport, just a handful of them,” he said. “And besides, we gotta kill ‘em all anyway.”

  “All right,” Reed replied, shaking his head as he reloaded his gun. “So how we doing this?”

  Trenton inclined his head. “The back door looks like it’s a slide open,” he said. “I say we rush by this group, get inside, and shore up the defenses. Safer to pick these guys off from the inside than fighting them in the streets.”

  “Agreed,” Landry said with a nod. “When we get up there, you two get inside first, and I’ll handle any of the stragglers that get too close. Last thing we want is for one of those things to plug up the door when we’re trying to get it shut.”

  Trenton raised his weapon. “All right, let’s do it.”

  They rushed forward, Trenton in the lead, and quickly made it to the corpses, staggered several yards away from each other. He lowered his shoulder and clipped a zombie as he ran by, sending it stumbling back into the others. Reed followed closely behind him, narrowly dodging outstretched hands as they went.

  Landry brought up the rear, knocking the creatures down as they lunged for his comrades. As they nearly reached the door, a zombie emerged from the inside, stopping in the doorway, and Trenton full on barreled into it, sending the two of them flying into the dining room.

  The zombie smacked hard into the table, and Trenton wrapped his hand around its neck, keeping the mouth at bay. He pulled his knife and buried it into the creature’s forehead before leaping back up to his feet.

  “I’ll get the front door,” he said as Reed rushed in the door. “You check the bedrooms.”

  Reed nodded and headed down the hallway, jumping at the sound of gunfire from outside. A blur slammed into him from the first bedroom, and then his side exploded with pain, and he slammed his gun down on a slimy rotted head. The zombie didn’t dislodge its teeth from his flesh, and he shoved it back, a primal scream leaving his mouth. He fired half a dozen shots into the creature’s face, reducing it to nothing but ground meat.

  Trenton tore back into the hallway at the horrendous sounds, and stared at his best friend with wide eyes.

  “She fucking bit me!” Reed bawled, staring down at the bloody hole missing from his torso. “Took a chunk right out… FUCK!” He raised his hands to his heads, suddenly sinking in that this bite was a death sentence. He paced back and forth in the hallway, muttering incoherently to himself, as Trenton just watched on, helpless.

  Landry slammed the back door and came stomping through the living room towards his comrades. “What the fuck was all that shooting? We’re not ready to attract a cr-” He stopped short at the sight of the young man bleeding all over himself. “Oh, fuck me.”

  “No, Landry, fuck me,” Reed snarled, turning towards them. “Because I’m fucked.”

  Trenton clenched his jaw, blinking a few times. He didn’t know what to say. What did you say when your best friend was handed a death sentence?

  Reed took a deep, ragged breath, and kicked open the door to the bathroom. He rummaged inside before emerging holding a towel tightly against his wound.

  “I need tape,” he said.

  Trenton put a hand to his forehead. “Wh, what?”

  “Tape!” Reed yelled. “I need some motherfucking tape!”

  Landry darted to the kitchen, digging through cabinets and drawers before finally finding a roll of duct tape. “Here we go, I got you.”

  Reed raised his arm and held the towel in place with the other, motioning for the soldier to hurry up. “Tape me up, then,” he demanded. “We got shit to do.”

  Landry made quick work of taping the towel in place, securing the makeshift bandage.

  “Man…” Trenton babbled from behind him. “We… we can get you back to the command center… you don’t have to-”

  “Fuck you, man,” Reed snapped, whirling on his friend. “This shit is costing me my life, so I’m going to see it through. And don’t you ever suggest that shit to me again.”

  Both Trenton and Landry nodded, and the latter finished with his taping. “That’s as secure as it’s going to get,” he said, and raised his chin. “You ready to start fighting?”

  Reed cocked his gun. “Let’s get the next batch going,” he declared. “I got some payback to deliver.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mathis took careful aim, surveying the field of zombies to find just the right one. He honed in on a tall male, middle-aged but easily six feet tall and stout. He was hoping if he took out all the big ones first, that would make future combat easier if it came to that.

  He squeezed the trigger and watched as the creature’s head exploded. It dropped to the ground, taking a few others with it under its heavy frame. The hole, however, closed quickly as the mass of ghouls covered it up.

  “That’s another one down,” the sniper said with a sigh.

  He checked his ammo and noted that his gun was empty. He took a break to reload and survey the landscape. A few blocks away, there was a massive plume of smoke rising into the air. He raised his gun and peered through his scope, seeing the house across the way from the school with the busted out windows. Dozens of zombies had broken away from the field pack, attracted by the prior gunfire.

  He pulled his walkie talkie out. “Hey Leon, it’s Mathis,” he said, “come in.”

  “How’s my eye in the sky?” Leon replied.

  The sniper took a deep breath. “Doing my best to pick off the big boys in case we gotta go hand to hand.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” Leon agreed. “Do you have eyes on the fire team?”

  Mathis nodded as he moved his scope. “Yeah, it looks like they are at their next stop and preparing to draw another crowd,” he said. “Although you may want to give them a heads up that their noise has attracted a lot of attention.”

  “How much?” Leon asked.

  The sniper cocked his head. “Hundred, hundred and fifty of them have broken off and started wandering towards the fire,” he reported. “If they aren’t careful, they could get flanked.”

  “How’s it looking to the north?” Leon asked.

  Mathis moved his gun again, sweeping the northern area through his scope. “A stray here and there,” he said, “but for the most part, they’re staying put.”

  “Good,” Leon came back. “I’ve sent the other two teams to meet up about five blocks north so they can grab the bats and regroup. If you see anything heading their way, let me know.”

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p; The sniper nodded. “Ten-four, and I’ll do my best to pick off stragglers that head that way.”

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Leon said.

  Mathis raised an eyebrow. “What you got?”

  “Since you got a good vantage point on the situation,” came the reply, “how many do you think we need to peel off in order to do a mass burn safely?”

  The sniper looked down over the edge, at the zombies pressed up right against the school. He pursed his lips and looked through the scope at the high school. It appeared to be the same situation over there, rotted corpses smooshed up against the bricks.

  “At least half, maybe a little more,” he mused. “But even then, we run the risk of those things wandering over to the high school and setting it on fire. If my school gets lit I can make a run for it. I’m going to assume the others can’t.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Leon admitted. “Looks like I’m going to have to come up with something else.”

  Mathis shrugged. “Maybe Hammond found something in the garage that can help.”

  “One can only hope,” Leon replied with a sigh.

  All of a sudden, gunfire erupted from the house that Landry and the boys were at.

  “Fuck,” Mathis blurted, and rushed over to the southern edge of the roof to get a better look at the situation.

  A few hundred zombies began peeling off of the main group, and the hundred or so that were attracted by the previous firefight staggered back towards them.

  “Leon, you gotta get them outta there now,” the sniper gushed. “They’re going to be overrun!”

  The line went dead as Leon disappeared to deliver the message. Mathis quickly raised his weapon and began firing towards the flanking zombies. He hit one of the front ones in the head, dropping it and causing a few to stumble. He continued to rapidly fire on the horde, hoping to buy his friends an extra few minutes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hammond drove towards the meeting spot, but turned off down a side street that led towards the school horde.

  “Hey Clara,” he called through the back window, “make sure you’re loaded up. We’re gonna go fishin’.”

  She saluted him. “Ready when you are, Sarge!”

  He stopped a block from the school, with only a few dozen zombies in sight. He laid on the horn, filling the air with an obnoxious HONK! Twenty or so zombies shambled towards them, arms outstretched. Hammond executed a three-point turn so that Clara was in the firing position.

  “You just let me know when you’re ready for me to move,” he instructed. “We’re gonna creep up the road so they don’t wander off into the neighborhood.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’d rather not burn the entire town to the ground if I can help it.”

  “Well, you’re not fun,” the Sergeant quipped, and they shared a laugh.

  Clara lit the kerosene-soaked steel wool on fire, and waited patiently for the zombies to get close enough to spray. “Let’s start leading them up a bit,” she suggested.

  Hammond put the truck in drive, and began inching along. As he started to move, she primed the weapon a few times before unleashing a stream of liquid death onto the enemy. They ignited quickly, but despite the flames, they continued to chase the truck and moan. It took about a block before they began to fall, no longer able to move due to the flames.

  Once it was down to just a few slow-moving ones crumbling to their knees, Clara sat down and patted out the fire starter before smacking the side of the truck. “They’re not getting out of the street,” she called. “We’re good!”

  “All right,” Hammond replied, “on to the meet!”

  He sped up, going down a few blocks before turning to the north. They drove for a few moments before making another turn, coming up on half a dozen zombies in the street facing off against Rogers and Whitaker.

  The corpses were spread out a few yards apart from each other, giving the baseball bat wielding duo plenty of room to work with. The Detective used the vertical bashing technique, caving in the top of the zombie’s heads.

  Whitaker, however, opted for a traditional swing, snapping one zombie head right off so it hung limply from its shoulders from stretched-out rotted flesh.

  After a few more well-placed swings, the threat was gone and the battlefield was quiet save for the rumbling of Hammond’s giant truck as he rolled up to them nice and slow.

  “That’s a solid swing there, Whitaker,” he declared as he hung out of the window, “but if you really want to go for the fences, you shouldn’t drop your front shoulder so much.”

  She rested the tiny bat on her shoulder and cocked her head. “Wow Sarge, I didn’t realize you were a baseball coach.”

  “Coach?” Hammond laughed and shook his head. “Nah. But I was the three time beer league home run champ.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, if your coaching will help me beat a bunch of out of shape dudes with beer guts, how can I possibly turn it down?”

  Rogers barked a laugh as he approached, and Clara jumped down from the back of the truck. Hammond exited and slammed the door behind him, clapping Whitaker on the back to greet her.

  The Detective pulled two bats out of the duffel bag and held them out.

  Hammond turned the little weapon over in his hand, and then gave it a few practice swings. “Eh, a little smaller than what I’m used to handling, but I think I can make it work.”

  “So how did the first flamethrower test go?” Rogers asked, shifting his weight.

  Clara took her bat and grinned. “Really good,” she said. “We took out, what, two, three hundred of those things?” She turned to the Sergeant.

  “And a house, don’t forget that.” He pointed at her with his bat.

  Clara shrugged. “And a house.”

  “So what’s the plan now?” Whitaker asked, hooking a thumb into the waistband of her pants.

  Hammond shook his head. “Fuck if I know,” he admitted. “It’s going to take the fire team some time to get set up for the next run.”

  “Were you able to check out the school garage?” Rogers asked.

  Clara nodded. “Well, we did a drive by,” she said. “Best we could tell, there were a few buses in there.”

  “Could be useful,” the Detective replied.

  “Yeah, maybe we could load up some zombies and drive them off to the Cartel’s doorstep,” Whitaker suggested with a smirk.

  Rogers looked to the sky. “You have no idea how much I’d love to do that,” he said.

  “I can imagine,” she replied.

  He sighed. “Spend a week here dealing with those pricks and their demands, and you’ll be imagining up far worse stuff than that.”

  “A-fucking-men,” Clara added.

  Gunfire erupted in the distance, and the quartet turned to face the noise.

  “Looks like the fire team is ready,” Hammond said, and checked his watch. “My guess is we have ten, maybe fifteen minutes before they are set up and need our help.”

  Clara nodded. “Hopefully they can pull a crowd like last time from the horde,” she said. “If they can keep doing that, we might actually be able to pull this off.”

  “Is it just me, or does that sound a little off to anyone?” Rogers asked, cocking a brow as the gunfire picked up in intensity.

  Hammond pulled out his radio. “Hey Leon, it’s Hammond, you copy?” he asked. There was no response, but the gunfire continued. “Leon. Do you copy?”

  Silence.

  Rogers grabbed the duffel bag and headed for the truck. “Looks like we need to get ready to move.”

  “Calm down Detective,” the Sergeant warned, holding up a hand. “We can’t do anything until the fire team moves to the backup house.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Rogers replied with a nod. “But when that call comes in, we’re going to be ready.” He clambered up into the back of the truck, and Hammond nodded, conceding the point.

  Clara hopped up into the bed next to him as the gunfire seemed to move a little farther aw
ay in the distance. There was a tense silent moment, and then Hammond’s radio sprang to life.

  “Hammond! Hammond!” Leon cried. “Do you copy?”

  The Sergeant raised the walkie talkie to his mouth. “We’re here.”

  “You meet up with Rogers and Whitaker?” came the panicked reply.

  Hammond nodded. “Yeah, we got ‘em,” he said as he got into the driver’s seat. “What the hell is going on?”

  “The fire team is getting fucked hard,” Leon explained. “Got way more heat than they bargained for. They’re on their way back to the second fallback house.”

  The Sergeant slammed his door. “We’re loaded up and headed out,” he promised. “We’ll be on them in a minute.”

  “Negative,” Leon replied. “Do not take a direct route. You’re going to have to go a roundabout way to get to them.”

  Hammond pursed his lips. “How roundabout?”

  “You’re going to have to retreat to the grocery store and then get a few blocks south of the house and approach that way,” Leon instructed.

  The Sergeant blinked at the radio. “Goddamn man, what the hell is going on over there?”

  “They pulled another group without realizing that the house fire drew a couple hundred after they left,” Leon explained. “The streets are packed with them.”

  Hammond nodded as Whitaker jumped into the passenger’s seat. “Ten-four,” he said. “We’re loaded up and headed out.” He punched the accelerator and they sped towards the next battle, bats in hand.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Trenton and Reed fired repeatedly from the living room windows as zombies continued to press up against them. As soon as one head exploded, the body dropped and another would take its place.

  “Fucking hell man, these things just keep coming!” Trenton cried.

  Landry came running from the back of the house. “Plug those holes as best you can, cause we gotta move!” he demanded. “The back is already thick with those motherfuckers.” He pulled his walkie talkie to contact Leon, but the front door began to creak.

  The wood around the frame began to splinter, and he threw himself into the door with every ounce of strength he had. He held out a hand as Trenton moved to help him.