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

by Slaton, Derek

  “You obviously need some sleep,” the Sergeant explained, “and I talked to General Stephens. They’re ready to start moving troops out and they need a layover spot. I told him we’d check out the town to see if it was viable.”

  Bill shrugged. “Fair enough. Next stop, Moorcroft.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Bretz, go wake up the others,” Kersey instructed as the train came to a stop just outside of town. He surveyed the land before them, a few rundown houses in the distance and a large two-story building by a football field. It looked like there was a nice suburb across from that.

  The Corporal saluted and opened the door. “On it.”

  “Kowalski, get on top of the train and sweep for potential threats,” the Sergeant continued, and then turned to give his Private a stern glare. “No shooting. Just looking.”

  Kowalski feigned a pout. “You’re no fun.” He slipped out the door, leaving it open so they could hear him if he needed to call down.

  Bretz wandered back to the first train car, gun raised in case of any surprises, and unlatched the door. As he slid it open, three sleepy-eyed soldiers squinted at him in the sun, looking for all the world like they needed a snooze button.

  “Rise and shine, boys,” Bretz barked. “We’ve got work to do.”

  Private Buck Johnson dragged himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head. “For the love of Christ Bretz, it’s too damn early in the mornin’.”

  “Hey, come on now,” the Corporal chirped. “I let you sleep in until the sun came up, that’s gotta count for something, right?”

  Private Ben Mason rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What we got this time?” he asked. “Another car in the road?”

  “Oh no, we’ve already cleared an entire train off of the tracks while you sleeping beauties were off in dreamland,” Bretz said.

  Private Adam Baker rolled over so that his back was to the sunlight. “So why the fuck are we awake?”

  “Because General Stephens needs a rest stop, and we gotta find him one,” Bretz jabbed the lazy soldier in the back with the barrel of his gun. “So get your shit and come on.” He walked back towards the cab as the three soldiers trudged to their feet.

  “Ugh,” Baker groaned. “I am not a morning person at all.”

  Johnson laughed as he picked up his rifle and jumped to the ground. “Then why in the hell did you join the army?”

  “Eh, my dad was in it,” Baker replied with a shrug as he wiped the last of the sleep from his eyes. “When I turned eighteen I figured, why the hell not?”

  Mason slid down after him to the ground and brought up the rear. “Good a reason as any, I suppose.”

  Kowalski peered through the scope of his sniper rifle, getting the lay of the land. “Hey Sarge,” he called, and waited for Kersey’s head to pop up from the door. “Looks like the streets are pretty clear. Can’t tell if there’s anybody in the school or not, but ain’t nobody outside as far as I can tell. Although I will say based on the look of the houses, we’re definitely gonna want to stay near the school.”

  “How’s the town layout look?” Kersey asked.

  The Private shook his head. “Hard to tell from here, but looks like the bulk of structures are to the north and west of the school on that side of the tracks,” he replied. “It’s pretty much open field on this side of things.”

  The Sergeant nodded. “All right, let’s get geared up.” He lowered himself down.

  Bill climbed out of the cab and locked it up tight, and headed down the ladder before Kowalski joined them on the ground.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” Kersey declared as the group converged in front of the train. “Bill, Kowalski, and I are going to take up residence in the big house directly across from the school entrance. Bretz, Mason, I want you two to head to the west, see what you can find. Johnson, Baker, I want you to take the north.

  “If you see supplies, note it. If you see zombies trapped in structures, note it. If you see anything that might be of value, note it. I need to be able to tell General Stephens if this is a viable stopover point or not, so all info is welcome. Questions?”

  Mason raised his hand. “What if we encounter locals?”

  “Ignore them as best you can,” the Sergeant replied firmly.

  Johnson’s face erupted into a wolfish grin. “What if it’s a pretty young thing?”

  Kowalski snorted. “Then she’ll ignore you.”

  A chuckle rippled through the group before Kersey put up a hand.

  “If you encounter locals, make damn sure they know we’re just passing through,” he said. “If they ask for help, tell them there’s some on the way.”

  Baker cocked his head. “And if they’re hostile?”

  “De-escalate if you can,” Kersey replied. “And if you can’t…” He raised his rifle. “Make them de-escalate.”

  There was a chorus of somber yessir, and then the Sergeant turned to Bill. “How much sleep do you need?” he asked.

  “A few hours will get me through,” the engineer assured him.

  Kersey nodded. “Four hour mission timer, then we rendezvous at the train,” he declared. “Any questions?” At the shuffle of shaking heads, he took up an offensive position, facing the town. “All right, let’s get it done. Move out.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kersey brought up the back of his trio, Kowalski leading he and Bill towards the school, guns at the ready and ears perked as they went. They jogged across the deserted football field, patches of grass sporting splatters of crimson. They came around the bleachers towards the parking lot, and the Private suddenly took a knee.

  The other two quickly followed suit, Kersey shuffling around the engineer. “What is it?” he asked.

  Kowalski peered through the scope of his rifle, taking in the school across the lot. There were a handful of cars with no action, but to the right there was an eight-foot fence surrounding a square of asphalt. There were a few dozen corpses trapped inside, milling about aimlessly, bouncing off of the chain link in vain.

  “Looks like somebody rounded up some zombies and put ‘em in a holding pen,” he said quietly.

  Bill blinked at his companions. “Why in the hell would anybody want to hang on to those things?”

  “Right?” the Private agreed with a shrug. “Pretty sure they’d make shitty pets.”

  Kersey furrowed his brow. “Do you see any movement at the school?”

  Kowalski studied every window facing them, but it looked like each one had the shutters closed tight. The doors were closed as well, and he lowered the rifle with a shake of his head.

  “If there is anybody in there,” he said, “they don’t want us to know about it. Everything is shut up tighter than a school girl on prom night.”

  Bill snorted. “You and I went to very different high schools.”

  “Let’s move quickly and along the edge of the parking lot,” Kersey instructed. “Use the cars for cover and try to stay out of sight. If there are people in there, I don’t want them to know we’re here.” He straightened his shoulders at their nods and then waved for them to move out.

  Kowalski led them across the lot, staying ducked down as low as they could get. They dashed behind cars, hoping to avoid spooking the trapped zombies as well and alerting anything else nearby to their presence. They flattened themselves against the last sedan on the far end, and the Private did a quick scan through his scope again.

  “Sarge, there’s a whole lot of nothing between us and the house,” he said quietly. “Hell, they even left the front door open for us.”

  Kersey drew in a sharp breath. “Something feels off about this.” His heart skipped a beat, and his two companions seemed to be contemplating their gut feelings as well.

  “I can sleep on the train,” Bill suggested.

  The Sergeant shook his head. “No, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it,” he insisted. “But we’re going to play it safe. Kowalski, when we get to the house, we clear the front room
, then you find a corner, put Bill in it, and stay there while I clear the rest of the house. Understood?”

  The Private nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s move, then,” Kersey said, and waved them forward.

  They dashed out from behind the sedan and rushed across the street, busting through the open doorway with guns at the ready. The two soldiers swept the front room, finding it quiet and empty.

  Kowalski grabbed Bill’s arm and jerked him towards a plush chair in the corner, near tossing him into it. The engineer landed on his ass with a soft oof, but the soft cushions were a godsend to his sore body. The Private stepped in front of him and took up a defensive stance, shoulders squared and handgun ready.

  Kersey moved through the house, easing open door after door and meeting no resistance. The feeling of foreboding and dread that had been gripping his heart began to loosen its hold on his stomach, and finally he returned to the front room, holstering his weapon.

  “We’re clear,” he declared. “Kowalski, secure the front door, and I’ll do the same for the back.”

  Bill raised his hand from the easy chair. “And me?”

  “Master bedroom is down the hall,” Kersey replied, inclining his head in that direction. “Looks pretty untouched, so you should be comfortable.”

  The engineer leapt up from the chair, a spring in his step. He’d been excited about the chair, but a comfortable bed? He practically dove into the master bedroom. “If y’all find coffee in the kitchen, for the love of god make sure you save me a cup.”

  Kersey smiled. “Consider it done.”

  “Sweet dreams!” Kowalski called in a singsong voice.

  Bill shook his head in amusement, rubbing his eyes as he shut the door behind him.

  “Man, now that he mentioned it, coffee would be fanfuckingtastic right about now,” the Private said, letting out a wistful breath. He reached over to the light switch on the wall and flicked it, but nothing happened. “Ah. A boy could dream.”

  Kersey shrugged. “I’ll check the cupboard, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “Not gonna do much good without power, Sarge,” Kowalski said.

  The Sergeant shook his head. “The stove is gas, so while the coffee might not be entirely up to your standards, it’ll be a drinkable caffeinated beverage.”

  “Fuck, I’ll take it!” The soldier grinned with renewed vigor.

  Kersey rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, and in the cabinet next to the fridge he found a massive can of ground coffee. “Found some,” he called, and heard a noise of triumph from his comrade. “While I brew it up, I want you to watch that school like a fucking hawk,” the Sergeant instructed. “If those shutters so much as rattle in the breeze, I want to know about it.”

  “Got you covered, Sarge,” Kowalski promised from the front door, raising his rifle. He peered through the scope like a hunter awaiting a deer, watching the eerily quiet building.

  A few minutes later, Kersey brought a mug of steaming liquid to his companion, taking a seat on a bench beside the front door.

  Kowalski took it, eyes lighting up as he took a deep sniff of the dark brew. “Nectar of the gods, this is,” he purred, and then took a sip.

  Kersey inclined his head towards the door. “How’s the school looking?” he asked.

  “Whole lotta nothing, Sarge,” the Private replied, shaking his head.

  “Keep watching,” the Sergeant replied, and stood back up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll keep an eye on the back.”

  Kowalski shot him a wolfish grin. “You just wanna be near the coffee.”

  “Benefits of a higher rank, soldier.” Kersey winked and strutted back to the kitchen to pour his own cup of wake-up juice.

  CHAPTER SIX

  On the west side of town, Bretz and Mason strolled along a side street at a steady pace. The train tracks ran parallel to the sidewalk, within dashing distance if they needed to get away from any approaching zombies.

  The coast had been clear so far, the quiet sleepy town living up to the reputation Kowalski had declared it as.

  “Hey man, can I ask you something?” Mason broke the morning quiet.

  Bretz raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  The Private took a deep breath. “Do you think this whole Seattle invasion thing is a good idea?” He chewed his lip.

  “That’s the beauty of being a grunt, man,” the Corporal replied with a shrug. “They don’t ask my opinion on shit like that. They just tell me that it’s a good idea and I roll with it.”

  Mason scoffed. “Oh come on, you gotta have an opinion on it.” He waved a hand vaguely in front of him. “They’re about to throw us into one of the largest cities in the country to take on hundreds of thousands of those dead things. Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

  “It’s not like we have any other options at our disposal,” Bretz replied, his shoulders rising and falling again, though he avoided his companion’s gaze. “We can’t stay in Kansas, too many fronts to defend. If we don’t try something drastic like this, then the country is just going to segment into mini-kingdoms filled with handfuls of survivors. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather fight and die for something bigger than myself, rather than simply fight to survive an extra day.”

  Mason let out a whoosh of breath. “I gotcha man, but it’s just…” He swallowed hard. “I grew up in the city. Tight quarters with a shitload of people. Everywhere you went, just people, people, people. This… this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

  “All out war isn’t typically pleasant,” the Corporal said quietly.

  They approached a corner and slowed down, taking in their surroundings. There was a diner across the street with a hotel behind it, sharing a parking lot. They swept the area, but there was still no sign of life or un-life. They almost expected to see tumbleweeds bumbling down the road.

  “What do you say, bud, you hungry?” Bretz asked, motioning to the diner.

  As if on cue, Mason’s stomach growled, and he chuckled. “Fuck yeah I am,” he said. “If I have to eat one more MRE, I’m gonna puke.”

  They raised their guns and slowly moved across the street, senses on high alert for any movement. The quiet was almost foreboding, leaving a heaviness in the Corporal’s stomach that he was having a hard time shaking. He ducked through the open door of the diner, leading a quick sweep of the old-timey space.

  “Clear,” he said as he inspected behind the counter.

  Mason took in the black and white checkered floor and fifties-style decor. “Clear,” he agreed, and followed his companion through the floppy doors into the kitchen.

  It was a small space, but the whole back wall was all shelving. They were both disappointed to find that the shelves were completely bare, picked clean. There was not a single thing left, not even the refills for the soda machine.

  “Motherfucker,” Mason muttered. “Not a single thing left.” He kicked at an empty bucket in frustration.

  Bretz furrowed his brow in concern. “Yeah it sucks,” he agreed, “but we have bigger issues.”

  “What’s that?” the Private asked sullenly, the visions of fresh burgers that had been dancing in his head evaporating into thin air.

  The Corporal ran a hand along one of the stainless steel shelves. “Someone cleaned his place out, which means more than likely there are people here,” he explained. “An if they’re this methodical, they might not like the fact that we’re poking around.”

  Mason took pause, eyes widening with the revelation. “You want me to let Sarge know?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Bretz replied, waving for him to go ahead and then heading over to the back office. He half-listened to his companion filling in the Sergeant as he inspected the cramped space, which had curiously also been completely cleared out. Even the desk drawers were wholly empty.

  He emerged back into the kitchen and something caught his eye out the window. “Mason, I need to talk to the Sarge,” he declared, and the Private blinked
at him.

  “Hey, hold up a sec,” he said into the radio. “Bretz needs to speak to you.” He furrowed his brow as he handed over the device, and then followed the Corporal’s gaze out the window. “What the fuck…” he breathed, and his jaw dropped.

  Across the parking lot, there were eight zombies chained up in front of the main entrance to the hotel. Their makeshift leashes were secured to the metal handicap parking poles, with a few feet of give, giving them enough reach to cover a good semicircle guarding the door.

  “We may have an issue,” Bretz said into the radio.

  There was a crackle and Kersey came back, “What you got, Corporal?”

  “Everything seems to have been completely cleaned out,” he explained. “Except for the hotel.”

  “What’s in the hotel?” the Sergeant asked.

  Bretz shook his head. “Not a fucking clue,” he admitted. “Mainly because someone saw fit to have half a dozen zombie guard dogs chained outside the front door.”

  “Shit,” Kersey replied, “somebody caged up a whole mess of them by the school, too.”

  “Have you seen anybody?” Bretz asked, running a hand through his hair. “Living, that is?”

  Another crackle. “Negative,” the Sergeant reported, “you?”

  “Not a soul,” the Corporal said. “So either they’ve abandoned the town, they’re hiding from us… or…”

  “They’re just waiting to strike,” Kersey finished.

  Bretz pursed his lips. “How do you want to play it, Sarge?”

  There was a moment of silence. “How much more of the city you have to look over?”

  “Three, maybe four blocks until we hit the edge,” the Corporal replied.

  “Do a quick sweep and head for the house,” Kersey instructed. “I’ll tell Johnson and Baker to do the same. Make sure you enter through the back, and say out of sight of the school. If there is somebody out there waiting to strike us, we’re gonna make sure they pay a high price for it.”

  “On it, Sarge,” Bretz replied with a firm nod. “We’ll be there soon. Over and out.” He tossed the radio back to Mason, who barely caught it in his shock at the weird scene in front of the hotel.