Dead America: The Second Week Box Set [Books 1-6]

by Slaton, Derek

  “Let’s do it,” Kowalski replied with a firm nod, and the trio exited the cab.

  Kersey turned away from the door and slid on a headset, leaning against the wall as he fiddled with the dials on his radio.

  “Heartland base, heartland base, come in,” he said. “This is Sergeant Kersey.” He waited patiently for a few minutes, the silence stretching out on the other end. “Heartland base, please respond.”

  “This is heartland base,” came the reply. “We read you loud and clear, Sergeant Kersey.”

  “I have a priority alpha update and need to speak to General Stephens immediately.”

  “Please hold, I will get that set up for you.”

  Kersey nodded. “I appreciate it.” At the click, he turned and stared out the window, watching the horizon illuminating in the morning sun. After all they’d been through, he felt like he would never be able to truly relax, but the sight of the rolling hills with nary a corpse wandering around definitely gave him comfort. The train wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was nice to have a bit of a break from being on high alert.

  There was a series of clicks, and then a familiar voice came through.

  “Sergeant Kersey, good to hear from you,” General Stephens greeted him. “What’s your current location?”

  “General, we’re currently about twenty miles south of Moorcroft, Wyoming,” Kersey replied.

  There was an audible sigh on the other end. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace.”

  “I understand,” the Sergeant agreed. “Bill has informed me that we should be able to speed up for a while since there’s not much between us and Helena, Montana. He’s just been playing it extra careful since the last thing we want is to get derailed by debris.”

  “Level with me. Is he being overly cautious?”

  “Well, we’re currently stopped because there’s an abandoned train on the tracks,” Kersey informed him. “So I think he’s taking the right amount of precaution.”

  “I know you boys are doing the best you can,” Stephens came back, and his subordinate could almost hear the pursing of his lips. “But I can’t stress enough that the pace needs to be quickened as much as possible.”

  The Sergeant’s brow furrowed. “Has… has something happened, sir?”

  “The order has come down from the top,” the General said. “We have a target for the offensive against the enemy.”

  “And I’m guessing that since you haven’t ordered me to reverse course,” Kersey prompted, “that you were right all along?”

  Stephens clucked his tongue. “Yes, that’s right. We’re going to Seattle.”

  “I always did want to go to the Space Needle,” the Sergeant replied wistfully.

  The General barked a bitter laugh. “By all accounts, it’s still standing,” he replied. “Which is more than can be said about some other monuments.”

  “Is there a timeline for the assault?” Kersey asked.

  “At least a week, maybe more,” Stephens explained. “Going to depend on how quickly we can move the troops up.”

  The Sergeant nodded, and then took a deep breath. “And how is that going?”

  “Better than expected,” the General admitted. “The path you boys cleared for us from North Platte to Salina has given us a staging area pipeline. We have a couple of trains running around the clock shuttling troops and supplies to North Platte. Although we could use another staging area further up the line, if you come across one.”

  “I think we’re going to have to take some time in Moorcroft,” Kersey said, “so we’ll give it a good once over and see if it’ll work.”

  “Sergeant,” Stephens replied sternly, “what did I just say about picking up the pace?”

  Kersey sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bill hasn’t slept in two days, sir, we need to give him at least a few hours to recoup. And besides, it’ll give us a chance to restock.”

  There was a pause.

  “Understood,” the General finally said. “You boys doing okay on supplies?”

  “Food provisions are decent, but could always use more,” the Sergeant said.

  “And ammo?”

  Kersey half-smiled. “Enough to make us dangerous.”

  Stephens barked a more genuine laugh this time. “I have no doubt.”

  “I’ll be in touch once we head out of Moorcroft this afternoon,” Kersey assured him.

  “Safe travels, Sergeant,” the General replied, and there was a sharp click as the line went dead.

  Kersey removed the headset and took a deep breath, stretching his arms above his head. He watched the last bit of the sunrise, enjoying the feel of the rays on his face, and the little bit of tranquility that he could grasp in times like these.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Bretz led the trio, Bill nestled safely in between he and Kowalski, who brought up the rear. The Corporal stayed vigilant, keeping his weapon raised and pausing at each gap between the abandoned train cars to check for threats. His partner’s head swiveled this way and that behind them, double-checking that they weren’t missing anything.

  Everything seemed quiet, but they knew better than to let their guard down.

  “So, what do you think this thing is hauling?” Kowalski asked as they walked.

  Bill knocked on the side of one of the train cars, resulting in a hollow echo. “I’d be willing to stake my reputation that this one ain’t hauling shit.” He chuckled and shrugged, pausing at the next gap. “Seriously, though, with cars like this and where we are, it’s a pretty safe bet it was hauling coal.”

  Bretz waved the all-clear for that gap, and they continued up along the next car.

  Bill knocked on the side of that one, the same metallic echo replying to him. “Good news for us, is that it looks like it’s already dumped its load. We should be able to get this thing moving pretty quickly.”

  “All right,” Bretz declared as he stopped them at the engine cab. “I’ll check it out. You two stay here.” He motioned to the closed door, and slowly climbed the ladder next to it. As he reached the window, a zombie smashed into it from the inside, startling the Corporal into raising his weapon. He held his fire when his rational brain kicked in, the corpse trapped inside the cab with no way out.

  It had a pinstripe shirt on, common to train engineers, but donned a baseball cap so bloodied it was impossible to tell what team it had once been for.

  “Hey Kowalski.” Bretz tapped on the glass with the barrel of his gun. “I think I found you a hat.”

  The Private raised an eyebrow in distaste at the crimson-soaked garment. “Yeah, pretty sure I’m gonna pass on that one.”

  The zombie smacked a rotting hand wetly against the glass, gnawing as it tried to get out to its fresh meal. Bill stepped forward and wrapped his hand around one of the ladder rungs.

  “Whoa there,” Kowalski huffed, jumping forward to grab the older man’s shoulder. “Stay down here until Bretz clears it.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to make sure he’s aiming in the right direction,” Bill replied, gently shaking his arm out of the Private’s hand. “Last thing we need is for him to inadvertently hit something vital. Because I get the sense that you boys don’t want to push this train by hand.”

  The Corporal pursed his lips for a moment, and then waved for Bill to climb up. He moved over to give him room, and the engineer flinched when the zombie turned its face hungrily towards him.

  “Relax, it can’t get you,” Bretz assured him.

  The engineer shook his head. “It ain’t that,” he said, swallowing hard. “Just recognize him, that’s all.”

  “Oh,” the Corporal replied, blinking a few times. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Bill waved him off. “Eh. Don’t be. He was an asshole.” He shook his head, and peered around the familiar rotting head into the cab to get the lay of the land. “All right. You’re gonna have to line your shot upwards so that it goes straight through the other win
dow. Think you can do it?”

  Bretz nodded. “Gotcha covered.” He climbed around the engineer, taking the space back at the window. He tapped on the glass with the barrel again, hoping to lure the corpse into position.

  The zombie thrashed about a bit, screams muffled by the door, and then finally pressed itself against the center of the window. The Corporal squeezed the trigger, and the glass chinked as the bullet tore through it, the zombie’s forehead, and into the window on the far side.

  The trio waited a beat to make sure that the crack of the gun hadn’t alerted anything else to their presence.

  Finally, Bretz unlatched the door, stepping out of the way. “Watch yourself, Kowalski, it’s coming your way.”

  The Private stepped to the side as his partner opened the door and the zombie fell down to the dirt with a wet splat.

  “Yum,” he muttered with distaste, and then took up a defensive position as his teammates entered the cab.

  Bill checked all of the gauges, inspecting all of the panels. He had to wipe blood from a few to see clearly, but for the most part things didn’t look broken.

  “How are we looking?” Bretz asked.

  The engineer nodded. “I think we’re ready to roll.” He leaned out the door to address Kowalski. “All right, you take it nice and slow. You don’t move until we are out of your sight, and for the love of Christ, don’t go above ten miles an hour.”

  “I think I can manage faster than ten miles an hour.” Kowalski rolled his eyes.

  “Ten. Miles. Per hour,” Bill repeated firmly. “You may only have three cars attached, but it’s still gonna take you some distance to bring that thing to a stop. You ain’t drivin’ your minivan today, you’re drivin’ a man’s vehicle.

  “So do as I say, because if you fuck it up and rear end us, I’m going to have to bust my ass switching engines. And if your stupidity makes me have to do that, I’m gonna have someone bring me a dog leash and I’ll drag your ass for the next fifty miles.” He raised an eyebrow. “And if you don’t believe I can, well, I’d say you can ask ole Eddie Hibbert, but when we got to our next stop the only thing there was an empty leash.”

  Kowalski stared up at him, wide eyed, and nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said hoarsely. “Ten miles per hour it is.”

  “Good boy,” Bill replied. “Now you run along and radio up to us when you’re ready to roll.”

  Bretz watched with bewilderment as Kowalski scurried off down the train tracks, and Bill casually went back to getting the engine fired up. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then opened it again, then closed it again. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with a chuckle.

  “All right, I gotta know,” he finally said. “That story about Eddie Hibbert… that wasn’t true, was it?”

  Bill smiled sheepishly. “Well, not entirely.”

  Bretz let out a deep sigh of relief. They had enough to worry about with the flesh-eating zombies without a psychopathic engineer.

  Bill shook his head. “Dog leashes aren’t really long enough, so I had to use a horse lead line instead.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bill pioneered the train slowly down the track, the weight making it difficult to get up to speed. He also knew that they’d need to stop short of the siding so they could flip the switch, so there was no use trying to go too fast.

  His eyelids began to droop. Unfortunately driving a slow train was just as bad as highway hypnosis.

  Bretz furrowed his brow as the engineer’s shoulders began to slump, and gave him a sharp clap on the back.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Bill mumbled as he straightened back up.

  The Corporal shook his head. “The didn’t sound very convincing.”

  “I didn’t really buy it either,” the engineer replied, voice thick and groggy.

  Bretz crossed his arms. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, “why don’t you tell me about some of the crazy shit you’ve seen out here on the rails? Keep your mind active and awake.”

  “That could work,” Bill agreed, giving his cheek a little smack and blinking back sleep. “Before I can started though, I gotta ask—you don’t get grossed out easily, do you?”

  The Corporal snorted. “I’ve spent the last week and a half fighting the undead. If you find a way to outgross that, I’ll consider it an achievement.”

  “Fair enough,” the engineer replied. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leaned forward to recheck one of the gauges, and then took a deep breath. “So, this happened a few years back. I don’t remember what run we were on exactly, but it was one of the more scenic trips through the middle of nowhere. It was towards the end of August, so hot as a motherfucker outside.

  “We weren’t close to any crossings, so we had it opened up to about sixty miles an hour, just screaming down the tracks. Well, we came around this bend to a bridge over a lake and about shit ourselves when we saw forty or so cows just hanging out in the middle.”

  Bretz laughed. “What the fuck? What were cows doing in the middle of a bridge over a lake?”

  “Hell if I know.” Bill chuckled and shook his head. “I think the incident report said some car wreck nearby took out a farmer’s fence, but at the time we didn’t care why there were there, only that they were.”

  “So what did you do?” The Corporal cocked his head.

  Bill clucked his tongue. “The only thing we could do. Kept rolling full steam ahead.”

  “Why didn’t you stop?” Bretz asked, eyes wide.

  “We had a full load,” the engineer explained, “so even if we hit the emergency brakes we’d still be a mile past the bridge by the time we stopped.”

  The Corporal winced. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

  “No sir, it did not,” Bill assured him. “Those cows exploded like a piñata at a kid’s birthday party. And let me assure you, there wasn’t any candy inside.”

  Bretz hissed a sharp breath through his teeth. “Ugh. Cow guts, everywhere.”

  “Oh, not just cow guts,” the engineer replied with a maniacal grin. “Cow body parts, cow shit, cow heads, cow everything, everywhere. The impact was so severe that it coated the entire front of the engine in it. And thanks to the extreme heat, it pretty much fused to it, including the front windows.

  “We had to spend the next six hours with our heads sticking out of the portholes just to be able to see where we were going. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever smelled roadkill up close, but I can guaran-damn-tee that you’ve never smelled a couple tons of roadkill cooking as you roll down the road.”

  Bretz blinked at him in shock. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s horrific.”

  “I tell you how bad it was, it actually killed my taste for steak for about a month,” Bill declared.

  The Corporal shook his head. “I can imagine.”

  “Lucky for you, you really can’t,” Bill said, and they shared a laugh. He leaned forward and flipped a few switches, and began to pull back gently on the throttle.

  Bretz furrowed his brow. “What is it? I don’t see the town.”

  “Found a siding,” Bill explained, motioning ahead. “Go on and radio back to Kowalski and get him to slow down.”

  The Corporal lifted his radio to his mouth and clicked the button. “Hey Kowalski, you copy?”

  “Yep, I’m here,” came the reply.

  “Look man, we’re slowing down, so go ahead and throttle back,” Bretz said.

  There was a crackle before Kowalski replied, “I’ll make sure I stop plenty short of you.”

  As the train came to a full stop, Bill stepped over to the door and heaved it open.

  “Whoa, hang on,” Bretz gushed, grabbing his gun and running forward. “You aren’t going out there.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” the engineer replied with an amused smile. “I was just being polite and opening the door for you.”

  Bretz shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Ther
e’s going to be a manual switch up there,” Bill explained, pointing through the window. “I’ll just need you to flip it so that the rail runs off to the left there. Once you do, I’ll pick you up and we’ll park this big bitch.”

  The Corporal nodded and leaned out the door, doing a quick sweep of the immediate area. There were no zombies in sight, no movement of any kind anywhere. He hopped down and headed towards the switch post quickly, gun at the ready just in case.

  He cocked his head at the track and looked up at the large lever, finally grasping it in one hand and heaving it down. He watched the rails to make doubly sure that the track was all the way over to the switched position. The last thing they needed was a derailment.

  Bretz nodded at his handiwork and gave Bill the thumbs up before taking a few steps backwards and waiting for his ride to approach. As Bill cleared the switch, the Corporal changed it back for Kowalski, and then jogged up the train to escort the engineer out to safety.

  They waited patiently outside as Kowalski brought up their train. It inched forward at a snail’s pace, the Private obviously nervous about parking in exactly the right spot. After a few minutes of this, Bill shook his head and waved Bretz forward, heading towards the door.

  The engineer grabbed the still moving train’s ladder, and climbed up, opening the door just as the transport finally came to a stop.

  “How did I do?” Kowalski asked, excitement evident in his voice.

  Bill shrugged as he headed over. “Well, you didn’t hit the other train or run me over, so I’ll give you a thumbs-up.”

  “Hey, I’ll take it!” the Private exclaimed, holding up a fist of triumph as Bretz joined them in the cab.

  “I’ll get us back up and rolling,” Bill said, taking his place at the helm.

  “Moorcroft should be just up ahead,” Kersey said, leaning over to peer out the front window. “When you see it, stop short of it. If there is anyone in town, I don’t want to make it obvious we’re here.”

  The engineer raised an eyebrow. “I thought we had to keep pushing through.”