Dead America The First Week (Book 3): Carolina Front

by Slaton, Derek

  “Hoyt, I believe it’s about time for you to introduce me to Xavier.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Jesus Christ,” Freeman breathed as he drove the large transport truck through the zombie-infested streets of downtown Charlotte. Hundreds of zombies surrounded the vehicle, smacking their hands against the side as it passed in a futile attempt to get at the moving box of human treats. “How the hell did anybody survive this?”

  Marie shrugged. “We have, so far.”

  “Yeah, but we’re highly trained and heavily armed,” he replied with a shake of his head. “We barely made it through the night.”

  Webb poked his head through the hatch from the back into the cab. “People are resilient,” he said. “Hopefully not too resilient, though. Since they apparently don’t like us too much.”

  “Just got off the horn with Bill,” Frank said, his own head appearing next to Webb. “It’s going to be the building on the next corner.”

  “How you wanna go about getting in?” Freeman asked.

  The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Curbside service and go in through the second floor?”

  “And to think I got a ticket the last time I drove on the sidewalk,” Freeman muttered as he hopped the curb, crushing some zombies against the wall. Even through the thick metal shell of the cab, the group could hear the crunch of bones under the pressure. He put it into park and shut down the engine as Frank clambered up to poke his head out of the top hatch.

  “All right, we’re good,” the Captain declared. “Webb, you’re on me. We’re going to breach and make sure the coast is clear. Y’all hang tight.”

  “Don’t worry Ms. Daisy,” Freeman replied with a faux Southern accent, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  Frank barked a laugh. “You keep that up, and I’m going to make you wear a chauffeur hat.” He pulled himself out, Webb following swiftly, and took a moment to peruse the sea of angry-looking hungry zombies.

  “Well, Cap, if you ever wanted to crowd surf.” The Corporal grinned.

  Frank wrinkled his nose. “Yeah… I think that one’s staying on the bucket list for a while.” He strode over to the building, peering in through the windows. The sill was at chest height, the transport just a touch too low for him to get a good look. “Office,” he said, and then moved to the next window. “Office,” he repeated, and then peeked into the next one, cupping his hands around his eyes. “Bingo. Got a hallway.”

  Webb moved over to him, but the Captain waved him off.

  “Stay by the hatch,” he instructed. “With this tinted glass and no power, I can only see about ten feet down the hallway. We might have company and need to make a hasty retreat.”

  “If that’s the case,” Webb insisted, “I’m covering you while you get in.”

  The Captain nodded before taking his sidearm, aiming it at the corner of the giant expanse of glass. He took a couple of steps back and fired, shattering it in a spectacular array of sparkling matter. There were shrieks as a few zombies inside sprinted towards him, clad in blood-covered business suits.

  Frank stood his ground, and as the pack reached the window he stepped aside, letting them flop onto their faces on top of the transport truck and then bounce into the sea of zombies.

  “What the fuck was that?” Webb laughed, eyebrows raised at his Captain.

  Frank shrugged and moved back to the window, the Corporal joining him at the sill. He pulled a flashlight and shone it inside, exposing another zombie towards the end of the long corridor. It didn’t notice them, simply groaning and bumping into the far corner.

  “What do you think?” Webb asked. “You wanna go in?”

  Frank pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, and then sucked his lower lip between his teeth, letting out a long sharp whistle that pierced the air, echoing down the hallway. The zombie in the corner immediately shambled towards them, though much slower, dragging its leg behind it.

  “Well, that’s new,” Frank said as he cocked his head.

  Webb’s brow furrowed. “It’s almost like he hurt himself.”

  “I’m not up on my zombie lore,” the Captain admitted. “Can they get hurt?”

  “Not sure about feeling pain,” the Corporal replied, “but their bodies are flesh and bone. Being dead can’t be that healthy.”

  “That’s a valid point there,” Frank agreed.

  Webb motioned to the struggling zombie as it got closer to the window. “You want to? Or should I?”

  “Nah, I got it,” the Captain replied, shaking his head. He grabbed the windowsill, and pulled himself up, hopping his legs gracefully over into the building. He pinned the zombie against the wall and planted his knife in its head, wiped the blade on his thigh and sheathed it. “Webb, get the others.” He turned back to the window. “We’re on the move.”

  Freeman pulled Marie up in through the window as Webb and Gardner kept watch down the hallway.

  “OK, Webb is going to lead us up and find the stairs,” Frank explained. “Watch the corners and open doors. If shit goes down and you get separated, the rally point is gonna be the northeast corner of whatever floor is two down from the shitstorm. Everybody good?”

  There was a chorus of Yes, sir! and he raised a hand. “Let’s do it,” the Captain said.

  Webb took point, his flashlight illuminating the dark hallway. As the team moved along, there were some sudden zombie screams and banging, and they froze. The doors were all shut tight, however, and as they realized that the corpses were all sufficiently holed up, continued to move.

  “Man, so many people dying at their desks,” Gardner mused. “I mean it’s good for us, but damn, that’s just depressing.”

  “Pretty sure there’s a heavy handed metaphor in there somewhere,” Marie added.

  Webb raised his hand as they came to the corner. “Got the stairwell, and the coast is clear,” he said.

  “Go easy on the breach,” Freeman said. “Cap and I learned that one the hard way.”

  The Corporal led the team up to the stairwell door, and banged on it a few times. The sound reverberated throughout the concrete tower, and they waited with bated breath. A full minute went by with no other sounds.

  “I think we’re good,” Webb said.

  Frank nodded. “Go slow, just to be sure.”

  The Corporal made a noise of agreement and then pushed on the door release, but it didn’t move very easily. “There’s something behind it,” he grunted. “Gardner, give me a hand.”

  They shoved, putting both of their body weights into the door, but were only able to get it open about a third of the way.

  “Can anybody get through?” Webb asked.

  Marie stepped forward. “Yeah, I can do it.”

  “No.” Freeman lashed out and grabbed her arm. “Let me do it.”

  “Aw, it’s a good thing you’re sweet, because you really come up short when it comes to judging where you’ll fit,” she said, voice sugary sweet. “There’s no way you’re getting through there. It’s me or nobody.”

  He clenched his jaw and nodded jerkily, letting go of her arm. “Don’t go being a hero, now.”

  She shot him a smile and got into position. The Corporals shoved the door, and she squeezed through as they held it open. As soon as she got to the other side, she coughed into her hand.

  “Holy fuck, that’s sick,” she groaned.

  “What do you see?” Frank asked.

  Marie shook her head. “Somebody put their thinking cap on for this one,” she said. “It’s a zombie barricade.” She surveyed the pile of about a dozen corpses, stacked six tall and two deep.

  “Do you think you can move them?” the Captain asked through the cracked door.

  She took out her handgun and poked one of the corpses in the head. No movement. She poked the next one. “Yeah,” she replied, “but y’all are gonna have to give me a second to confirm their deceased status.”

  “You take all the time you need,” Frank agreed.

  She finished her check and
then holstered her gun, grabbing one of the top zombies by the back of its suit jacket. One by one, she hauled them to the floor, and then pushed them down the stairs. After she toppled the fifth one down, Webb and Gardner were able to shove the door open far enough for the group to enter.

  “Fucking hell, man,” Freeman gaped at the pile of bodies. “That’s just… fucking hell.”

  Marie smirked. “Didn’t know you were a poet.”

  “Only when I’m properly motivated.” He shrugged.

  Frank readied his weapon. “Webb, lead us up.”

  “Yes sir,” the Corporal replied, taking point once again. He shone his flashlight up the stairwell. “One thirty-five floor hike, coming right up.” He moved slowly, being cautious. As he hit the third floor landing, he pursed his lips. “Another zombiecade,” he reported, and then continued the ascent.

  Each floor had a stack of business suit-wearing corpses piled in front of the door. As they approached the fifteenth floor, Webb stopped short.

  “What’s up Webb?” Gardner asked. “You getting out of shape, brother?”

  The Corporal turned and put his finger to his mouth, and then pointed towards the door. Frank stepped up and peered around him, noting that there weren’t any bodies blocking the door that time.

  “That doesn’t look suspicious at all,” Webb whispered, sarcasm laced in his tone.

  “I think we need to push on to the roof,” Frank replied quietly. “Our boys could be in there, but we don’t know what’s above us. We’ll get up there and work our way down.”

  Gardner raised an eyebrow. “Anybody think to bring a motion sensor?” he asked. The team all checked their pockets, and after a few moments of frantic patting, Marie handed him a small plastic base with a lens on the front.

  “Is this a motion sensor?” she asked.

  Gardner grinned. “Yes, it is! Thank you.” He grabbed it, pulled out a small tablet and synced the two. He attached the device to the wall, a faint laser beam aimed right at the door. “If somebody opens that door, we’ll know it,” he said.

  Frank clapped him on the back. “All right, let’s keep moving.”

  Webb led them up to the top floor, the rest of the doors blocked with a pile of corpses once again. The team got into defensive position and prepared to breach the door. Frank held up his hand in a silent countdown, and when he got to one finger, Webb threw open the door. The group immediately streamed onto the roof, fanning out to cover all directions.

  One by one, they each yelled clear, and converged at the fallen helicopter. It was a complete mess, laying upside down, blades broken off and the engine still smoldering. Frank moved to the door, taking a deep breath before looking in. He was relieved not to find the bodies of his comrades, though were was some blood where they’d clearly been after the crash.

  “Bennett and Foster aren’t here,” Frank declared.

  Freeman knelt down in front of the fallen vehicle, recoiling at the sight of the pilot whose face had been rearranged by a giant piece of shrapnel. “Pilot’s here, but he ain’t going anywhere,” he said, standing as Frank turned away from the wreck, face pensive.

  “Checked the holds, and they’re mostly empty,” Webb declared. “So whoever brought this thing down got the supplies.”

  “Is that why they shot it down?” Gardner asked. “They wanted the goods?”

  “I doubt it was anybody from this building that took it out,” Marie put in.

  Freeman nodded. “Yeah, that would be some video game level shit right there. Snipe a helicopter and have it land at your feet on top of a thirty-seven story building. That isn't happening outside of an Xbox.”

  “So what now, Cap?” Webb asked.

  Gardner’s motion sensor alarm bleated, and Frank turned towards the door.

  “We get ready for company.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two men that looked to be in their late twenties strolled out of the roof access door, untucked button-down shirts a little bit bloodstained from their forays into the apocalypse. They froze at the sight of Frank, leaning against the downed chopper with his legs crossed, taking in the sun.

  “How’s it goin’ there, fellas?” he asked with a grin.

  The two men glanced at each other, wide-eyed, and then one of them reached for a handgun in the back of his waistband. The rest of the team popped up from the debris, weapons drawn, surrounding them, and the two newcomers froze.

  “Hey, can I borrow this for a few minutes?” Freeman asked, and walked up to grab the handgun out of the guy’s pants. “Thanks.”

  “Please, don’t kill us,” the guy pleaded, voice trembling.

  Gardner shrugged. “That decision may be out of our hands,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Depends on what you tell us about our two missing friends.”

  “You mean the other soldiers?” the unarmed man piped up, motioning over his shoulder. “Oh yeah, they’re fine. We… we can take you to them.”

  “I bet you can,” Gardner replied. “Let me guess, they’re on the fifteenth floor?”

  The guys glanced at each other with surprised eyes, and then looked back to the Corporal, nodding furiously.

  Frank pushed away from the helicopter to approach them. “What’s waiting for us down there?” he asked.

  “Just a bunch of people trying to survive,” the guy who’d had the handgun said earnestly. “We don’t mean you any harm.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow. “So are my friends down there just hanging out with y’all?”

  “Well...” The second guy scratched the back of his head. “Not exactly.”

  The Captain shoved him hard, his head smacking into the brick wall behind him like a basketball on the blacktop. “What the fuck do you mean, not exactly?” he seethed.

  Before he could answer, there was a loud crack of a gunshot, and Gardner blew right off of his feet. Everyone hit the ground, assuming defensive positions.

  “Where’s it coming from?” Freeman cried. “I can’t see anybody!”

  Webb searched frantically. “I got nothing either!”

  Marie scurried over to Gardner, dropping to her knees. He had one hand clamped around his bicep, and she covered it with her own. “Let me see,” she instructed, and he let go to reveal a bit of blood. She studied it for a moment. “Didn’t hit anything major,” she declared, “you’ll be fine. Now get up!”

  “Still hurts like a motherfucker, though.” Gardner winced as another shot rang out, the concrete at Freeman’s boots exploding.

  “Sniper, three o’clock!” the Corporal cried, and the team moved into useful cover with the direction identified.

  Frank kept the two unarmed guys pinned against the wall, his handgun against a throat. “Who is shooting at us?” he demanded.

  “Fuck if I know, man,” the first guy insisted. “You haven’t made a lot of friends lately. Notice he shot when you put your hands on my friend, here.”

  “Freeman, cover fire!” Frank barked. “Everybody into the stairwell.”

  The Corporal popped out and shot wildly at the neighboring building as the team made a run for the door. One by one they dove in, and Freeman let up to turn and dart away. The sniper managed to hit the ground just behind him as he hustled inside.

  Frank looked around, doing a head count. “Everybody good?” he asked, and there was a chorus in the affirmative before he nodded. “So where were we? Oh yeah, my friends you’re holding hostage.”

  “We secured them because they fired on us!” one of the captives squeaked, his arms high in the air. “We didn’t kill them, though!”

  “How many people you got down there?” Frank crossed his arms. “How many of them are armed?”

  “I don’t know man,” he replied, shaking his head rapidly. “There’s thirty, maybe forty of us. And a good number of them are packing.”

  Frank pursed his lips. “Webb, secure these guys to the railing,” he said, waving his hand.

  “On it, Cap,” the Corporal replied, and shoved them
down into a sitting position, back to back. He used zip ties to secure their hands against each other, and then another looped to attach them to the railing.

  Frank turned to the rest of the team. “Gardner, you okay?” he asked.

  “It’s just a flesh wound, he’ll be fine,” Marie replied.

  The Corporal nodded. “What the lady said.”

  “So, what’s the play, Captain?” Freeman asked.

  Frank sighed. “I don’t know, every other time we’ve faced this kind of situation, we’ve gone in guns a blazin’ and killed everyone who wasn’t one of ours,” he mused. “But that just doesn’t feel right this time. These people aren’t our enemies, they didn’t shoot down the chopper. They’re just trying to survive.”

  “Well, they did shoot at Bennett and Foster as well as take them hostage,” Freeman pointed out.

  The Captain shook his head. “But what if they’re telling the truth that Bennett and Foster fired first?”

  “So, what?” The corporal stiffened. “You wanna go have a chat with them?”

  “Hey, just some free advice,” one of the captives piped up from his secured position on the landing. “We may not be your enemy, but we’re sure as hell not your friends. A few of the people down there tried to go to the stadium before they ended up here. So you take that for what it’s worth.”

  Frank shook his head and sighed. “All right, y’all, let’s move out and go get our boys.”

  “So what are we doing, Captain?” Freeman repeated. “Clearing them out? Or trying to strike up a conversation?”

  “Not sure yet,” the Captain replied. “But I have twenty floors to think it over.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Coleman raised an eyebrow at the four foot tall sheets of metal bolted to the side of the truck bed they were in swayed back and forth with each bump in the road. “Not the sturdiest protection, there,” he said.

  Walter shrugged. “It’s on there pretty good, and those things can’t get through,” he replied. “What more do you really need?”

  “Yeah Coleman,” Terrell said playfully, “what more do you need?”