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

by Slaton, Derek

  Paul shrugged. “Doesn’t surprise me that nobody’s here,” he said. “Those who could, fueled up and took off as soon as this thing started. The closest neighborhood is nearly a mile away. No reason for the zombies to stick around if there’s nothing to eat.”

  “Make sense I guess,” the Private agreed, but raised his gun as they approached the hangar. “But just in case there’s something in there…”

  There was a padlock holding the large sheet metal door shut, and Paul pulled out a few hairpins he’d stashed in his pocket just for the occasion. He knelt down and began to fiddle with the lock.

  Strickland raised an eyebrow. “You know, we can just shoot it off.”

  “Nah, it’s all good. Wouldn’t want you to waste the ammo on-” he said as the padlock popped open, “-something so simple.”

  The Corporal blinked at him. “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, when half your day is waiting on clients to show up, you gotta do something do keep your hands busy,” Paul replied with a shrug as he slid the lock from its hole. “Figured I’d do something useful with my time.”

  He glanced at Strickland, who nodded and then Paul flung the door open. The Corporal and Goodman entered first, doing a quick sweep of the area to make sure it was as barren as outside.

  There was a rusted vintage car up on the lift at the far end of the room, surrounded by tools strewn all over the floor. The soldiers turned towards the huge wrecker tow truck, a massive hulk of a vehicle that looked like it could drag a two-story house across town.

  “You definitely didn’t oversell the tow truck,” Strickland said blankly as Goodman let out a low whistle.

  Paul clapped his hands together. “No sir, I did not. If this thing can’t get the refuel truck to the chopper, then nothing will.”

  “Keys?” the Corporal asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Paul replied, and approached the driver’s side door. He clambered up into the cab and then leaned over, rummaging around in the center console. When he sat back, he held a shiny set of keys. “I do believe we’re in business, gentlemen,” he said with a grin.

  “Fantastic,” Strickland declared. “All right, Goodman, hop in. You get the bitch seat.”

  The Private wrinkled his nose. “Why me?”

  “Rank has its privileges,” the Corporal quipped.

  Goodman rolled his eyes. “Yeah, all right,” he grumbled, and climbed up into the large cab.

  Strickland followed as Paul started the engine, the large truck rumbling to life.

  “Oh yeah,” the pilot purred, “that’ll work. You boys ready?”

  “Have at it,” Strickland said as he closed the door.

  Paul put the truck into gear and they rolled out of the hangar and down the only road out of the airport. Soon they came upon a small neighborhood, and he had to slow to a stop upon reaching two cars parked in the middle of the road. It looked like someone had set up a barricade at some point, with the vehicles nose to nose.

  “What do you want me to do here?” Paul asked, noting the deep ditches on either side. They wouldn’t be able to drive around.

  The Corporal waved to his companion. “Goodman and I can get out and move ‘em.”

  “Don’t think that’s going to work,” the Private commented, and motioned past the cars where zombies staggered out from around the houses towards the rumbling truck.

  “Fuck,” Strickland muttered. “Okay, that’s not going to work.” He paused, pursing his lips in thought. “Paul, how close are we to your shop?”

  The pilot shrugged. “Maybe half a mile at the most,” he replied. “The turnoff is just up ahead and then we’re on the main road back to it. It’s a straight shot.”

  “How long do you need to hook up the fuel truck?” Strickland asked.

  Paul scratched the back of his head. “Depends on how badly that SUV is wedged up into it. Could be five minutes, could be half an hour, I honestly can’t tell you.”

  “Well, let’s hope it’s the five minutes,” the Corporal said firmly, “because we’re going to have to drive through those cars, and those zombies are going to follow us back.”

  “If there’s only a couple dozen, we can handle them,” Goodman piped up.

  Strickland sighed. “With the way today is going, I doubt we’re going to be that lucky.”

  “One way to find out,” Paul declared, and threw the truck into gear. He punched the accelerator and the beefy vehicle rumbled loudly before finding its footing and crashing into the two cars.

  The sedans shrieked from being crushed by such a large vehicle but slid fairly easily out of the way, one tumbling down into the ditch, taking a few zombies with it. The grill of the truck tore through a few more corpses, sending others that ran at it flying back into nearby lawns on impact.

  As they picked up speed through the neighborhood, Strickland focused on the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening more and more as zombies continued to emerge from the houses into the street.

  “Yeah, this is not going to be good,” he muttered.

  “Holy fuck!” Paul exclaimed as he turned onto the main road.

  In the middle of the street was a horde of easily a hundred zombies waiting for them, staggering as one along the main drag. He continued to accelerate, plowing through them like butter.

  “Where’s the shop?” Strickland asked.

  Paul wrinkled his nose as a severed hand smacked into the windshield and left a gooey handprint there. “Three more blocks up,” he said.

  The Corporal studied the rearview again, taking a deep breath as the remaining zombies turned to follow them up the street. “Let’s do this shit quick,” he said.

  They reached the smooshed SUV and the trio scrambled out as fast as they could. Strickland fired twice to take out the two thrashing zombies inside, and Goodman took a defensive position horde-side. Paul examined the wreckage.

  “What do you see?” Strickland called.

  The pilot threw his hands up. “A tangled fucking mess! I can’t tell anything else.”

  “Fuck it, just hook the truck up and pull,” the Corporal said. “We’ll just have to hope for the best.”

  Paul nodded. “I’m on it.” He rushed back to the two truck and pulled out two heavy chains. He laid down on the road and squirmed his way beneath the SUV to hook them up. Goodman took a deep breath and glanced at his companions and then at the oncoming horde.

  “We’re never going to make it,” he murmured to himself, and took a deep breath. He walked away from the truck towards the road, and crossed it to the field on the other side. He aimed his assault rifle at the corpse parade and fired a few rounds. “Come and get me!” he roared, spreading his arms.

  Strickland startled and leapt up from where he was supervising Paul, head whipping this way and that to locate his teammate. His blood ran cold at the sight of the Private walking backwards through the field, and he immediately raised his walkie-talkie to his mouth.

  “Goodman!” he barked. “What in the hell are you doing?!”

  His companion raised his own radio, firing off a few more rounds before answering. “Buying time for you to get the fuel truck free.”

  “How, by sacrificing yourself!?” Strickland cried.

  “I looked at the map, and there’s a huge wooded area to the east of us,” Goodman assured him. “I’m going to lure them into it and lose ‘em there.”

  The Corporal clenched and unclenched his jaw. There was nothing he could do about this now. “You remember where we parked, right?” he asked, defeat in his voice.

  “Yes sir,” Goodman replied, and saluted him from the grass.

  Strickland took a deep breath. “Well, then hurry your ass up, because we ain’t gonna be waiting on you for long.”

  “Don’t worry sir, I won’t be late,” the Private promised. “Now you boys just lay low until I get these things clear.”

  “Thank you,” Strickland replied, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. “Be safe.”

  “Alw
ays, sir,” came the reply, and then more gunfire to attract the significantly distracted horde.

  The Corporal ducked down and clapped Paul on the leg to get his attention. He put a finger to his lips to encourage him to stay quiet, and the pilot fell still, letting go of the chains. He rolled over to see what was going on, and Strickland peered around the back of the SUV to watch as the horde shambled into the grass after a whooping and hollering Goodman.

  The Corporal took a deep breath. His partner had been right. Had he not done what he did, they wouldn’t have made it.

  “All right Paul,” he said firmly as the last of the zombies dragged their way across the field. “Let’s get this done. If Goodman doesn’t make it back, I don’t want his actions to be in vain.”

  Paul nodded and returned to his work. “I’m going to make damn sure that it’s not,” he said.

  Strickland kept watch, gun at the ready, just in case any of the horde decided to make their way back. He saluted the field.

  “Good luck, kid.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Becker pulled the empty dolly back out of the truck. He parked it behind Yates and leaned on it, watching the Private pace back and forth in front of the wall that separated them from the store proper.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” Becker finally asked. “You look like one of those seventy-year-old grandmothers who walk around the mall.”

  Yates shook his head, but didn’t stop pacing. “I’m trying to figure out how to get us into the main portion of the store without being eaten.”

  “Oh yeah?” Becker raised an eyebrow. “And how’s that going?”

  His companion finally stopped moving. “Pretty sure I got us something that will work.” He pointed up to a small window at the top of the wall and off to the side.

  “Uh, do we need to go by the eye center so you can get some glasses?” Becker blinked at him. “Because if you think I can fit through that…” He motioned to the two foot by three foot window.

  “No, no, that’s not for us,” Yates replied, waving his hands in front of his face. “That’s for Jean.”

  Becker nodded as the insinuation sunk in. “Okay, I’m tracking you now. We get her up there, she creates a diversion to draw them away from the door. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, we’re in business.”

  “And?” Yates asked, crossing his arms. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s going to be a bitch and a half once we’re in the store, since we have no idea how many of those fuckers are in there,” his companion admitted. “But at least the plan will get us in, so that’s something I suppose.”

  Yates wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, it’s a work in progress.”

  “Maybe Jean has a map of the store we can use to plot our attack,” Becker said, and waved for the other soldier to follow him towards the back office.

  As if on cue, Jean emerged from the door, a grin on her face. “Fucking found it!” she declared, holding up the USB key in triumph. “We’re in business, boys.”

  “Good job,” Yates commended with a grin of his own.

  She slid the USB key all the way down into her deepest pocket for safekeeping. “So, y’all found a way into the store yet?” she asked.

  “Yeah, he came up with a plan,” Becker replied, inclining his head towards his comrade, “but we need some help. Do you have a store map we can use?”

  “Sure,” Jean replied, and disappeared back into the office, rummaging around for a moment. “Here we go. Come in.”

  The soldiers approached and they leaned over the desk, studying the large map. Everything was clearly labeled by department, complete with a self-contained garden center.

  “First things first,” Becker said, tapping the map at the bottom, “we have to shut those front doors. Jean, do we need a key for it?”

  She shook her head. “No, they have simple deadbolt locks you can throw,” she explained. “Should be good enough to keep those things at bay, at least long enough for us to get what we need and get out.”

  “What about the garden center?” Yates piped up. “It looks like it’s in a separate building.”

  “It’s separate from the main store, but it’s a self-contained outdoor environment,” Jean explained. “If memory serves, the seeds we need are on aisle seven, which is about halfway down on the right.”

  Yates pursed his lips. “Are those doors locked?”

  “They should be.” She nodded. “The garden center was only open during the daytime, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the opener never made it in when this stuff started.”

  Becker turned to the other soldier. “Well, what do you want to do about the rest of the zombies in the store?”

  “Why are you asking me?” Yates asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought you were in charge.”

  “Well, all good superior officers look for talent to promote,” Becker teased. “Your plan has gotten us this far, so let’s see if you can finish it.”

  Yates chuckled and then took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, hopefully Jean can keep the majority of them entertained back here in electronics while we shut the doors. After that, I say we take up position in the main walkway in the center of the store.” He pointed to the area and tapped. “We clear the aisles around us, and then take our shots. When they get too close for comfort, we retreat to the main walkway at the front of the store and just keep ‘em moving until we take them all out.”

  “Just your basic run to the store,” Becker said casually, “only with more bullets and rotting flesh. Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s do it.” He glanced at Jean for confirmation.

  She nodded and grinned. “All set,” she declared.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Hey zombies!” Jean cried from the little window, balancing on a few pallets to stick her head through. “We have an amazing sale on big screen TVs here in the electronics department! Why don’t y’all come check it out?”

  Moans rose up in response as the dead shoppers came to have a look at the TVs. She watched as a few dozen corpses moved towards her, clustering to the electronics section. She craned her neck to survey the storage room door, and then pulled back in to address the soldiers waiting on the other side of it.

  “You’ve got two zombies within five feet of the door who don’t seem interested in the sale,” she called. “Looks like that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  Becker nodded and turned to his partner. “You ready?”

  Yates pulled out his machete. “I’ll handle them, you secure the door.”

  “On three then,” Becker said, and put his hand on the knob. “One. Two. Three!”

  He threw open the door so that his companion could rush through, catching the first zombie easily in the face. As the second zombie turned, Yates kicked it in the chest, sending it tumbling backwards into a mobile phone display. The soldier tore his machete from the first opponent’s skull, and then knelt onto the flopping corpse, sliding the tip right between its eyes as Becker secured the door.

  They immediately raised their assault rifles, making sure that the clattering phones hadn’t distracted from Jean’s declarations of discount Blu-Ray players. Becker nodded and the duo moved towards the front of the store. They moved as quietly as they could, so they wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from stragglers in the parking lot.

  Becker stopped short at the front of the aisle, peering around. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “How many?” Yates asked quietly.

  “A dozen or so,” his companion replied, surveying the zombies milling about the checkout lines. “Pretty close to the doors, too.”

  Yates chewed his lip. “How do the doors look?”

  “Doesn’t look like any of those things are near it, so closing them shouldn’t be an issue, Becker replied. “But as soon as that first lock clunks, we’re going to be made.”

  His comrade nodded thoughtfully. “I saw we both tackle the doors, get in and get out before they can make it over to us,” he said. “Then we
retreat back over here and regroup.”

  “Agreed,” Becker said. “You take the two on the left, I take the two on the right?” After receiving a nod, he peeked out again to make sure their opponents were in the same place.

  They rushed out of the aisle, tearing silently for the center doors. They made sure to close and lock them at the same moment, the clunk echoing loudly. The zombies snapped in their direction as the two soldiers separated, each taking the opposite outer doors. Becker had the farthest one, securing it easily, but Yates didn’t quite beat a zombie to his, slamming it shut on an arm.

  Becker rushed over, shoving at the rotting arm as Yates struggled to hold the door closed, but the checkout lane zombies were closing in fast.

  “Fuck it,” Becker grunted and stepped back, aiming his gun through the hole to shoot the offender in the head. Yates shoved the corpse out of the way and got the door closed and locked. The soldiers had no choice when they whipped around but to open fire on the oncoming zombies, regardless of the fact that the electronics department horde was likely on its way.

  “So much for plan A.” Yates sighed as the last corpse fell, leaving a gooey mess all over the nearest conveyor belt.

  “Plan B it is, then,” Becker replied.

  His companion raised an eyebrow. “Wait, we have a plan B?”

  “Yep,” Becker declared as he checked his weapon. “Run and gun.”

  Yates let out a deep whoosh of breath. “I was hoping for something a little more thought out, but desperate times and all.” He checked his own gun and they moved to the main aisle.

  As they reached the open area there were about thirty zombies ambling up the aisles towards them. The duo spread out a little and took aim, carefully placing their shots. Corpse after corpse fell, but even with the precision shooting the horde seemed never ending.

  “Fall back to the front door,” Becker said as the wave grew closer.