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

by Slaton, Derek

  As he clicked it in, his ears perked up at the sound of splashes, and he ran over to the edge of the bridge to see zombies wading into the river. “We’re being flanked!” he bellowed, and began to fire down at the corpses easily traversing the waist-deep water. “They’re getting to shore! Breaking the line!” he cried, as two zombies easily replaced each one he took down.

  He ran off of the bridge and stood on the road parallel to the shoreline, standing guard as he waited for the corpses to emerge from the bushes. He dispatched one, then another, switching to single-shot mode to play a deranged game of whack-a-mole. He continually took out those closest to him, but soon enough there were a dozen lumbering creatures moving towards him on the road.

  He began to walk backwards, and then ran out of ammo. As he switched mags, the zombies stumbled within ten feet of him, and then rapid-fire bullets tore into the group of corpses, sending them to the ground. The soldier turned to see Charlie standing behind him holding a gold-plated AK-57.

  The old man grinned maniacally, sporting two bulky satchels on his hips. He moved forward, taking out all of the immediate zombies.

  Ortega smirked as he clipped in a fresh mag. “You know automatic weapons are banned, don’t you?”

  “Well why don’t you go ahead and confiscate it, then?” Charlie quipped, and handed him the gun. He unclipped one of the bags and handed it over as well. “Five fully loaded mags in there, you should be good to go.”

  Ortega nodded his thanks, clipping the sack to his own hips. “What about you?”

  “Gotta get this barbecue going!” Charlie replied, pulling a trio of roman candles out of the other bag. He wandered up to the bridge, whistling as he lit the fireworks, and stepped up next to Ryan.

  “What are you going to do with those?” the young man asked.

  Charlie grinned. “I told you we needed a sustained heat source to get that diesel lit, and this is gonna do it,” he replied.

  “Those aren’t hot enough!” Ryan protested, continuing to fire into the horde.

  “Just watch, boy,” the old man replied, and aimed the candles in an arc towards the road.

  The horde reached the barricade, the combined weight of the oncoming dead inching the cars slowly but surely across the bridge. The first poofs of the roman candles sent brightly-colored bits of flame floating towards the pallid faces. The corpses stared up with rheumy eyes as the little bits floated down, falling to the ground and extinguishing with little hisses.

  “That was your plan?” Ryan grunted. “Jesus man we could have-”

  “Just watch, boy,” Charlie urged, and another volley of colored flame shot through the air.

  This time, a few thicker embers landed on a few corpses, and smoldered against their clothes. One of them was wearing something particularly flammable, and burst into flames, igniting the zombies next to it.

  “There we go!” Charlie threw a triumphant fist into the air, eyes wild, and snatched Ryan’s rifle from his hand. He took careful aim and fired at the flaming zombie, striking it in the head so that it fell directly into the diesel-soaked road.

  He handed the gun back to Ryan, and then leaned casually on the stone bridge support, crossing his arms as the fuel ignited. The flames spread quickly, engulfing the zombies, consuming them in under a minute.

  Thick black plumes of smoke filled the air, coating the battlefield as the horde went up in flames.

  “I can’t see shit,” Audrey said, squinting into the smoke, and lowered her weapon.

  Ryan stopped firing as well, not wanting to waste the bullets. “Me either.”

  Garrett fired off one more shot, and then scratched the back of his head. “I thought I saw something, but I can’t tell if I hit it or not.”

  “Save your ammo, let the smoke clear,” Hickman instructed. “Those barricades are hold-”

  A loud screech cut him off as the cars pushed against the concrete.

  “Fall back to the edge of the bridge,” the soldier instructed, and rushed back with the rest of the group hot on his heels. He moved to the center of the bridge, the rest of them flanking him on either side.

  Garrett leaned forward. “How do we know when-”

  “Be quiet,” Hickman snapped. A few tense moments passed, and the tires continued to gently squeak. He held fast, straining his ears, and then as soon as the squeaking stopped, he opened three-burst fire at the center of the bridge. After a few moments he stopped and listened.

  “What are you shooting at?” Ryan whispered.

  “The tires stopped making noise,” Hickman explained, “which means they were through the line. Hopefully I just plugged the hole.”

  A moment later, the squeaking began again, but this time louder. The soldier clenched his jaw, realizing that the weight was no longer distributed evenly along the barricade.

  “Open fire, open fire!” he cried, and the group aimed wildly at approximate head-height.

  The smoke began to thin out, the corpses pushing forward reduced to smoldering lumps of crispy moving flesh. They made it past the cars and ambled towards the group, arms outstretched.

  “When do we fall back?” Ruben demanded, eyes wide as he fired into the seventy or eighty corpses left pursuing them. “Hickman!” he cried when he received no answer. “When do we fall back?!”

  The soldier knew he’d have to give the order soon, or the zombies would be on them. But just as he opened his mouth, automatic gunfire filled the air, tearing a gruesome path through the horde.

  Ortega stalked forward, unloading an entire magazine into the oncoming barbecue, cutting the front wave down by half. He quickly reloaded and loosed another thirty rounds.

  With this joining the combined effort of the group, the entirety of the charred horde fell on the bridge.

  When the last crack of gunfire died away, they stood there, chests heaving and hearts pounding, staring at the blood-soaked bridge piled with bullet-ridden barbecued corpses. The scent hit them in the face then, the sickening acrid bitterness of burnt rotted flesh stretching the length of a football field.

  Hickman turned to Ortega, wrinkling his nose at the gold-plated gun. “Where in the holy hell did you find that gaudy masterpiece?”

  “Well, once I told ole Charlie that automatic weapons are illegal in this country, he graciously allowed me to confiscate it from him,” Ortega replied with a grin, resting the ridiculous gun on his shoulder.

  Hickman barked a laugh. “Well, I gotta say, it suits you.”

  Charlie strolled over and snatched it off of the soldier’s shoulder, cradling it in his arms. “Sorry there, sport, but I’m havin’ some second thoughts about lettin’ you confiscate her. But I won’t leave you empty handed, I got some makeshift spears for y’all.”

  “What the hell are we gonna do with spears?” Ortega raised an eyebrow.

  The old man inclined his head to the giant pile of death. “Chances are some of them chargrilled fuckers are still kickin’ under there, albeit at a severely reduced state. Once this smoke clears, we’re gonna have to do a little cleanup.”

  The two soldiers shared a glance and a chuckle.

  “You are one hell of a character,” Ortega said, patting the old man on the back.

  Hickman cracked his knuckles. “Come on, let’s go get those spears.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The sun was low on the horizon. Some of the group led civilians cautiously through the barbecued remains of the horde, making sure to stab each and every one in the head as they went. They kept rags securely tied over the bottom halves of their faces to protect from the abhorrent smell wafting up from beneath their feet.

  At Charlie’s place, Hickman tossed a cable down from the roof of the double-wide to Ortega, who plugged it into the battery box that would now run the power supply to his trailer.

  “All right my friend, you are up and running,” Ortega said as Hickman slid past the panels and hopped down to the ground.

  Charlie flipped the switch on his fuse box, and t
he lights strung around his grotto came on. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” he said, awe in his voice. “That thing got workin’ in that little bit of time?” He gazed up at the panel.

  “Yeah, these things are pretty legit,” Ortega replied, but reached over and flipped the switch back off. “Although, you’ll probably have to ride tonight out in the dark and let it get a full charge tomorrow. After that, though, you should have constant power with the battery backup.”

  Charlie stretched his back out, hands on his hips. “I think I can live one night without my stories,” he said. “Plus, it’s shaping up to be a beautiful evening. Might be a good night to get a bonfire going.”

  Hickman swiped his hands across each other and laughed. “You haven’t had enough fire for one day?”

  “Nah, you can never have too much fire.” Charlie waved him off. “Plus, with what all them folks have been through the last couple of days, might do ‘em some good to have a bit of a festive evening.”

  Hickman nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  Ruben headed over and mimicked his friend’s stance, hands on his hips. “I thought you boys would have had the power going by now?”

  “They got it goin’, just needs a little time to charge,” Charlie explained.

  Ortega turned to the janitor. “You get people settled?”

  “Yeah, we got a few houses set up pretty good for ‘em,” Ruben replied with a nod.

  “What about the road into town?” Hickman asked.

  “I got Harlan all set up,” the janitor said, and held up a walkie-talkie. “He’s gonna radio if there’s anything we need to be concerned with. But based on what we did to them over there, I’d be surprised if anything comes our way.”

  Charlie headed for the door. “Excuse me for a minute, will ya, boys?” he asked, and ducked inside.

  Ruben took a deep breath and then turned to the soldiers. “Hell of a day, huh?”

  “Ain’t that an understatement,” Hickman replied with an exhausted chuckle.

  Ortega sighed. “Of course, if the rumors I heard are correct, today’s gonna be a cakewalk compared to what’s coming up.”

  Ruben’s eyes widened. “What in the hell do you have planned for us?!”

  “Relax, brother,” Ortega said, raising his hands, “not talking about you. Talking about the military at large.”

  The janitor shook his head, putting a hand over his chest. “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack, there?”

  “Sorry,” Ortega said, failing to stifle a laugh, “didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  Charlie emerged with a six-pack in hand. “My friend here being overdramatic again?”

  “This fool was talking about how today was gonna be a cake walk compared to what’s ahead,” Ruben explained as he took one of the cans for himself.

  Ortega put up a hand in surrender. “Except I wasn’t talking about us.”

  “Or really anything more than rumors,” Hickman added.

  “Well, we got some time to kill,” Charlie said as he doled out beer to the two soldiers. “What did you hear?”

  Ortega took a deep breath. “That’s there’s going to be an invasion in a week or so.”

  “Where?” Ruben’s brow furrowed.

  “I heard it was the Northwest,” Ortega replied. “Something about it being a strategic location or something like that.”

  Ruben took a thoughtful sip of his beer. “So what’s that mean for us?”

  “Assuming it’s true,” Hickman cut in, “it means we’re on our own until they pull it off and venture down this far to bring us into the fold.”

  Charlie smacked his lips together after a particularly long chug. “And what if they’re not successful?”

  “Then you should be thankful we brought greenhouse materials so we can become self-sufficient,” Ortega replied, raising his cane.

  Charlie raised his own in response. “I’ll drink to that.” The quartet all clinked their beers together, and stood, staring out as the sun set on a day that they were more than glad they were alive to see the end of.

  END

  Coming Soon: The action shifts back to the Carolinas as Terrell battles to secure his new home against threats both living and dead.