“Do you think it’s drivable?” Goodman finally broke the silence.
Paul scratched the back of his head in bewilderment. “Given that the radiator is resting on the front windshield, I’m gonna go with no.”
“Okay, time for plan B,” Strickland said firmly. “Paul, what about one of your helicopters?”
“Only one I have operational at the moment is a two-seater,” the pilot replied with a shrug, “so unless Goodman here wants to hang on to the bottom…”
The Corporal groaned. “Yeah, not sure our liability insurance would cover that.”
“What about a two truck?” Goodman piped up.
His two companions blinked at him, the idea sinking in quickly.
“That’s actually pretty brilliant,” Strickland replied with a nod, and turned to the pilot. “You think that’ll work?”
Paul chewed his lip in thought for a moment, and then let out a deep breath. “Gonna need one hell of a tow truck,” he said, crossing his arms, “but I know exactly where one is. Buddy of mine has an industrial strength one at his hangar at the airport. It’s a big ole bitch too, could move my ex-wife and her mother in one trip.”
“A shame he wasn’t around when I got divorced.” Strickland chuckled. “Could have saved me a bundle.”
“So, where’s the airport?” Goodman asked.
Paul motioned towards the back door. “A couple miles away,” he said. “Shouldn’t be that difficult to get to, since we can head through the fields.”
“Well, it is a beautiful day for a hike,” Goodman declared.
Paul shrugged. “We’ll have to come back on the roads, but we can worry about that in a bit.”
The Corporal pursed his lips. “Let’s hope that the other group is having better luck than we are.”
CHAPTER TEN
The SuperCenter stood tall amidst a horde of about seventy or eighty zombies, a whirling mass of rotting flesh around the bright blue building. The Lowest Prices, Everywhere! sign was covered in blood, making the smiling cartoon dog on it look that much more macabre.
“Must be a hell of a sale going on at the SuperCenter,” Becker said, leaning on the railing of the I-275 bridge.
Yates nodded and stroked his chin. “Double coupon day, maybe?”
“Ah yes, zombie hoarders of the world, unite.” Becker spread his arms.
Jean chuckled and shook her head. “Well, the good news is that they’re congregating at the front. Hopefully, the back should be open.”
“Is there another road that leads to the back?” Becker asked.
“No,” she explained, “all the deliveries had to come in through the front and go around the building. They’d started to put a dedicated delivery entrance, but apparently the developer didn’t think it was worth the investment.”
Yates groaned. “But it was so worth the investment.”
“So we’re going through them?” Becker asked.
The other soldier turned away from the side of the bridge and pursed his lips at the SUV. “That’s a thick-ass crowd of zombies,” he said. “You think this thing can make it?”
“I mean, if we get up a head of steam,” Becker mused, “the four wheel drive should kick in and get us over any bumps in the road.”
Jean wrinkled her nose. “Uh, Becker?” She pointed to the side of the vehicle, where, next to the brand name was a 2WD sticker.
The Private shook his head in disgust. “Who in the fuck would buy a two wheel drive SUV?” He threw his hands up. “That’s like paying for a hooker who only gives your junk a few tugs! Completely pointless!”
“You’ve never met my ex-husband,” Jean replied. “He probably could have gotten change back.”
The soldiers winced and shook their heads at her plight.
Yates let out a low whistle. “I’m afraid this philosophical debate will have to wait for another day,” he said, crossing his arms. “We need to figure out how we’re getting in there.”
“I still vote we run the fuckers over,” Becker declared.
The other soldier turned back to the railing. “Is there a straightaway long enough for us to get up to speed?” he asked.
Jean nodded. “There’s a residential street that leads into the parking lot,” she said. “It’s about three, maybe four blocks?”
“Alright, let’s do this!” Becker cracked his knuckles.
“Wait,” Yates interrupted, putting his hands up to stop his overzealous companion. “What do we do when we get to the back? How are we getting in?”
“I’ll need ten seconds, maybe,” Jean replied thoughtfully. “The door has a keypad locking system. Just gotta punch in the code, and we’re in.”
The soldier furrowed his brow. “Powered key lock?”
“Mechanical,” she assured him.
He nodded. “Well, that’s good at least. What about once we’re inside?”
“The loading dock runs the length of the store,” she explained.
“Are the doors to the main store open?” he asked.
She shrugged. “There’s one set of double doors in the center. It locks from our side, but I have no idea if it’s open or not.”
“Which means we could be walking into a shitshow,” Becker cut in.
“Given the size of the crowd out front,” Jean added, “I’d almost bet on it.”
He let out a whoosh of breath. “Okay then, once we’re inside, the priority is securing that door. Yates, do you want to be the runner or the gunner?”
“Hey, I went first last time,” Yates protested.
Becker shook his head in amusement. “That’s what I get for asking instead of delegating.”
“Yeah, you’re a little rusty there, bud,” his companion teased.
“I’ll shake it off, provided I live through the next fifteen minutes,” Becker assured him. “Come on, let’s saddle up.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Becker lined up the SUV in the middle of the street, back tires resting against the curb a few blocks away from the SuperCenter. He took a deep breath and tightened his hands on the wheel.
“Jean, when we get to the back, I want you to focus on nothing but the door,” he said firmly. “Get it unlocked but do not open it. We might have a fight on our hands, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to drag a civilian through all of this just to lose them at the destination.”
She smirked. “Yeah, if you do that I’d haunt your asses.”
“Fair enough,” he replied with a nod. “Yates, as soon as I slam this bitch into park, you cover the rear and I’ll take the front. When we get the signal from Jean, you take the door and I’ll lead us in.”
Yates raised his gun and nodded. “Ten-four.”
Becker looked in the rearview mirror. “And Jean, if you wouldn’t mind securing the door while we clear the storeroom, that would be greatly appreciated.”
“Not a problem,” she assured him.
He took another deep breath and revved the engine. “Here goes nothing.”
He punched the accelerator and peeled out, the engine screaming as it redlined and built up speed through the residential neighborhood. By the time they hit the parking lot, he was going about sixty miles an hour, and the passengers braced for impact.
When the grill hit the zombie horde, the first corpse practically exploded in a fine crimson mist. Everyone jolted forward as the SUV plowed through about two-thirds of the throng before significantly slowing down. Becker hit the windshield cleaner to try to wash away the guts and rotting flesh blocking his vision as the engine whined.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried as the SUV struggled to move any further.
Yates threw open the sunroof, and surveyed the area in front of them. “We’re almost through, floor it!” he yelled, and his companion did so.
The vehicle surged forward slightly and then stalled out. Becker snarled more choice words and tried to start it again, but after a screech and a sputter, smoke began to billow out from underneath the hood.
“
It’s dead!” Yates barked. “We gotta go!” He pulled himself up through the sunroof and stood on the top of the SUV, raising his assault rifle to try to take care of the few rows of zombies clustered in the direction they needed to go.
Becker clambered up and slid down the windshield onto the hood, immediately opening fire. The zombies began to thicken, pressing up against the sides of the vehicle from all sides.
“We’re gonna burn through a ton of ammo doing this,” Yates declared as Jean climbed up onto the roof next to him.
Becker clenched his jaw, still firing, and then shook his head. “I’m open to ideas. This is the safest option right now.”
“No it’s not!” Jean cried.
The soldiers turned and saw dozens more zombies pouring out from the surrounding neighborhood, staggering excitedly towards the noise in the SuperCenter parking lot.
“Fuck,” Becker spat, “so much for that plan.”
Yates raised his hand. “I’ve got a plan.”
“I love it, let’s do it,” Becker replied.
His partner raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“Well, it’s better than mine, and we’re out of time,” Becker explained. “So what are we doing?”
“When I say go, unload everything you have on the back line,” Yates pointed where the zombies were the thinnest. “Once they drop, we jump over the front line and run like hell.”
Becker lowered his gun, eyebrows reaching his hairline in shock. “That’s your plan? Jump over them?”
“Is it still better than yours?” Yates asked.
“Fuck sakes,” his companion muttered as he reloaded his gun. “Jean, you ready?”
She nodded. “Tell me when.”
The soldiers took aim, and Becker swallowed hard. “Say the word.”
Yates took a deep breath. “Go.”
They opened fire, thinning the back line of zombies as quickly as they could, rapidly dropping corpses to the asphalt. The fallen flesh created a landing pad of sorts on the other side of the eight or so zombies still trying to get to them against the hood of the SUV.
“Jean!” Becker cried, and she leapt to action.
She slid down the windshield and sprung off of the hood, leaping over the outstretched hands of the zombies. She landed on the pile of bodies and stumbled forward, but caught herself enough to run down the little hill and tear across the parking lot.
The two soldiers gripped their weapons tightly and pushed off from the windshield simultaneously, managing to clear the hungry corpses and land safely on their fallen brethren on the other side. They tore off after Jean, resisting the urge to look behind him as the entirety of the throng turned to pursue the trio.
Jean skidded to a stop before the back alleyway, taking it wide to make sure she didn’t run into any unexpected foes, but it was surprisingly empty. The soldiers caught up and the three of them tore towards the loading dock, and Becker sprinted ahead of the back to fire at two zombies hanging out at the bottom of the short stairwell that led up to the door.
“Take the door,” he huffed, “and wait when you get it unlocked.”
Jean nodded and took the steps two at a time. “You got it,” she said.
Yates and Becker turned back to see the horde coming around the corner, squeezing into the alleyway like a tidal wave. They had less than a minute before they’d be zombie chow, and they backed up the steps as Jean punched a ridiculously lengthy code into the keypad.
It gave a happy beep and she turned the handle but didn’t open the door. “We’re in,” she said, and then the door smacked into the side of her face.
She regained her footing quickly, and Yates threw himself against the door to try to shut it again as zombie arms flailed about, pinned between door and frame. Becker pulled his handgun and fired through the crack several times in rapid succession until there was nothing but a pile of bodies on the other side.
He reloaded as he yelled, “Open it, let’s move!”
Jean didn’t waste any time, and the two soldiers burst in so she could slam the door behind them just as the rest of the throng caught up to the staircase in the alleyway. She locked the door and leapt back from it as hands thundered against the metal from the outside.
Yates and Becker spread out a little, moving together through the storeroom. There were pallets of boxes and skids of merchandise lining the walls, some splattered with blood and some shining in the sunlight as if the apocalypse wasn’t literally beating down the door outside.
Yates spotted the double doors to the store first, and rushed forward when he saw they were wide open. Zombies milled about the aisles of the women’s clothing section beyond, and it almost would have been comical had it not been a life or death situation. He slammed and locked the doors, securing them before the corpses could make a mad dash for their location.
Becker came around a tall skid and two zombies were suddenly on him, grasping for his face. He wedged his head into the crook of one’s jaw, and pressed the side of his handgun against the chest of the other to keep it at arm’s length and away from chomping distance. He struggled against the first one, avoiding the teeth snapping against his hair. He managed to maneuver the gun so it was pointing upwards, and fired three shots into the bottom of the second zombie’s head before aiming over his head and pressing the barrel into the soft flesh of the first one’s eye socket and pulling the trigger.
As the corpses crumpled to the concrete floor, he wiped a hunk of rotted goo from his forehead with a cry of triumph.
“Try to sneak attack me, will you bitches?” he bellowed, kicking one of the fallen zombies. “Yeah, that’s what you get.”
“Ah, you okay, man?” Yates asked as he skirted the skid of goods, brow furrowed in concern.
Becker nodded with a maniacal grin. “Yeah, I’m good. This motherfucker tried to get the drop on me.” He kicked the corpse again, baring his teeth. “Didn’t work out so well for you, did it?”
“You really should consider switching to decaf,” Yates chirped. “All that tension is gonna blow our your heart, man.”
Becker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I’m going to live that long.”
They shared a grim chuckle and patted each other on the back, turning back towards the back door.
“Where’d she go?” Becker’s eyes widened.
“Jean?!” Yates cried.
“I’m in the office!” Her voice floated back over to them in the distance.
The two soldiers headed towards the tiny shipping office at a brisk pace.
“Man, the apocalypse hit this place hard,” Becker said as he entered the small room. Papers were everywhere, binders and pens strewn across every surface in the place.
Jean laughed. “Nah, it’s always looked like this.”
“How did you ever find what you were looking for?” Yates gaped.
She shrugged as she rummaged through the bottom drawer of the desk. “I got paid by the hour, so I wasn’t in a hurry.” She pulled out a scuffed laptop that looked like it weighed a ton. “All right, got the main shipping computer.”
“Christ, that thing is older than I am.” Becker wrinkled his nose.
“What can I say?” Jean shrugged again and tucked it under her arm. “The owners were more concerned with buying their fifth yacht than providing us with adequate equipment.”
Yates shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What else do you need?”
“There’s a USB key, somewhere in here,” she said, tapping her chin as she looked around. “It’s black and red with the company logo on it.”
Becker nodded. “That can wait a minute,” he said. “You want to walk through the storeroom with us so we can figure out how to get out of here?”
“Sure thing,” Jean agreed, and led the way back out to the storeroom.
Yates patted the side of a skid of canned peaches. “Looks like this thing hit on grocery day,” he said. “We lucked out on that one.”
“Yeah, with
a store this size, there was never a shortage of canned goods,” Jean replied. “That’s not going to be our problem.”
Becker raised an eyebrow. “Wait, we have a problem?”
“Well, we can get the goods on the truck,” she explained, heading towards the cargo hold. “But getting to the driver’s seat is going to be a bitch since we’re going to have trouble getting out the door.”
Yates knocked on the side of the truck. “How’s this store’s hardware section?”
“Surprisingly robust,” Jean replied. “Ever since that mega chain store across the street shut down, we beefed up our selection.”
The Private raised an eyebrow. “So you should have a metal saw in stock, right?”
“It’s probably going to be a non-powered handheld variety, but yeah, we should have a few,” she replied.
Yates shook his head. “It’s all good, we don’t need that big of a hole.”
“What, you gonna go out the side?” Becker asked.
Yates pointed up to the ceiling of the truck. “Go out the top, then in through the window. Easy as can be.”
“What about the truck keys?” His companion wondered.
“Company policy is that the driver has to leave them in the cab while they unload,” Jean replied.
Becker raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. “Well, goddamn if we don’t have a plan.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Yates shot back. “We still have to hit the pharmacy and the garden center.”
His companion clucked his tongue playfully. “Can’t you just let me have one moment of joy today?”
“Well, while you celebrate, I’m going to start looking for a way into the main part of the store.” Yates winked.
Becker let out an overly dramatic sigh. “No, the moment has passed. Come on, let’s go.” He turned to Jean. “Let us know if you need our help with anything.”
“You got it,” she replied with a little salute. “And if y’all have any questions, just give me a shout. I know this store like the back of my hand.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Man, this place is a ghost town,” Goodman said as he followed Strickland and Paul across the tarmac. The repair hangar loomed ahead of them, and there wasn’t a single zombie in sight. “Why can’t everywhere be like this?”
Dead America: The Second Week Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 26
