Dead America The Second Week (Book 9): Dead America: New Mexico

by Slaton, Derek

  Hammond leaned over, noses almost touching as he watched the life draining from the self-proclaimed sheriff’s eyes, and whispered, “You should have stayed in your own fucking town.” And then he jerked the knife to the side, ripping his throat to shreds.

  He flopped over onto his back, breathing heavy.

  “Holy fuck Sarge, are you okay?” Whitaker asked as she and Landry ran up to him.

  Hammond sat up and nodded. “Oh yeah, every one of these motherfuckers is going to die.” He glanced over at the other side of the street, where Mathis finished picking through all of the bodies to make sure everyone was actually dead.

  He strolled up, resting his rifle on his shoulder casually.

  “Pretty good timing there,” Hammond said.

  Mathis grinned. “What can I say? I get excited when I get to shoot dumbasses.”

  The quartet broke into a relieved burst of laughter.

  The doors to the church opened, the civilians heading outside and looking around at the carnage with wide eyes, some covering their mouths.

  “Mother of god, this is horrific,” Simon said with a gag.

  Sofia shook her head. “They started this, not us,” she said, and marched over to the soldiers. “Is everybody okay?”

  “Surprisingly enough, I think we are,” Hammond replied. “Just some bumps and bruises.”

  She nodded and crossed her arms. “So what do we do now?”

  “I need Simon there to help Landry and Whitaker collect every weapon and bullet from the dead,” the Sergeant instructed. “You, Mathis and I need to start planning our assault of Silver City.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Okay Mathis, lay it out for us,” Hammond said, leaning over Sofia’s map that they’d spread out on the picnic table. Simon dropped a handful of weapons on the ground next to them and headed back out to pilfer more from the bodies, leaving the soldiers to their planning party.

  “The school is here,” Mathis began as he pointed to the map. “It looks like they have moved the civilians in there and have at least eight armed guards keeping watch. It’s a good half mile from the center of town, so I doubt we’ll have any trouble with them during the assault. What I’m assuming is City Hall is here, two blocks east of the main road into town. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that’s where Dutch is.”

  Landry cocked his head. “What makes you think that?”

  “Fancy building and at least a dozen guards outside,” Mathis explained. “It’s probably our best bet unless he’s hiding out at the school which poses an entirely different set of problems.”

  “For the time being, let’s assume he’s in there,” Hammond suggested. “Worst case is that we take out more of his men.”

  Whitaker raised a hand. “We can do some more recon so we know for sure.”

  “No time, we’re striking now,” Hammond said firmly.

  Landry raised an eyebrow. “Sarge, we appreciate the enthusiasm, and believe me when I say we’re all about wiping these fuckers out, but you want to go in now?”

  The Sergeant nodded, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “Absolutely. We have a short window where we can catch them off guard. They’re expecting their men back in the SUVs out front. Which means we can roll up to the front gate without them catching on. That gets us in, and gives us the ability to potentially recruit some allies.”

  “Which would be here, three blocks to the west of City Hall,” Mathis added, pointing on the map.

  Whitaker raised an eyebrow. “Who’s in there?”

  “It’s boarded up tight and has guards outside of it,” Mathis explained. “So we’re thinking zombies.”

  Landry scratched the back of his head. “So what, we’re going to roll up, take out the two guards and then pry open the doors?”

  “Actually, I was thinking we just strap some C4 on the hood, roll it down the street and then blow the front of the building off,” Hammond said with a shrug.

  Landry grinned, his eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “Yeah, I like your idea better, Sarge.”

  “So how do you want to play it?” Whitaker asked, leaning forward.

  “You and Landry are going to be on recruitment duty,” Hammond said. “Free ‘em, lay it wait on the gang response, and then take out everybody. Mathis and I will focus on getting Dutch.”

  “And then what?” Mathis cut in.

  Hammond raised his chin. “Convince him he needs to call his attack dogs off.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Whitaker asked.

  The Sergeant shrugged. “Then we’d better hope we have a shitload of ammo.”

  “Not the most encouraging of plans,” Landry said brightly.

  “If he doesn’t call them off, we end him, take out as many as we can, and retreat,” Hammond said. “With any luck we’ll do enough damage to them that they’ll think twice about attacking.”

  Simon approached with another armful of assault rifles. “This is the last of them from the house,” he said as he dropped them with the others.

  The soldiers approached the pile and inspected the haul.

  Landry started sorting through everything. “Seven assault rifles, six hunting rifles, a bunch of handguns and mags, and of course shitface’s shotgun,” he murmured, and Whitaker knelt to help him inspect everything.

  “That’s good work, Simon,” Hammond said, clapping the wiry man on the back. “Was there anything in the vehicles?”

  He shook his head. “No, afraid not. They were carrying everything they had.”

  “Okay, if you wouldn’t mind, would you please get the two with the least amount of fuel and get them ready for us?” the Sergeant asked. “We’re going to leave the other two here.”

  Sofia finally spoke up, “Aren’t you afraid that will tip them off, if only two of the SUVs are coming back?”

  “A chance we’re going to have to take,” Hammond replied. “We don’t have the manpower to drive all four and pull off the plan.”

  Mathis nodded. “Plus, we’re going to need something to drive out of here once we clean this mess up.”

  “The rifles are actually looking pretty decent,” Whitaker said as she turned over the last gun in the pile. “Two are totally trashed from the fire, one is iffy, but the other four are usable.”

  “There’s fifteen usable mags that are full,” Landry added. “Another ten or so are pretty burned, but with some work we could salvage the ammo.”

  Hammond nodded. “We’ll each take one and some ammo. Having that burst fire option might come in handy when we’re outnumbered.”

  “On the plus side, the ratio of good to bad guys has tilted a little more in our favor after this battle,” Landry said.

  “I don’t think we should be getting excited about the odds going from twenty-five to one to twenty to one,” Whitaker countered with a grimace.

  Landry clapped her on the back. “Come on, it’s the little victories.”

  “How long do you think it will take you to rig an SUV to blow remotely?” Hammond asked.

  Landry shrugged. “Ten minutes, max. Where you want me to rig it at?”

  “Gas tank,” the Sergeant replied. “Nothing wrong with getting a little more bang for our buck. Plus having it out of sight could be beneficial.”

  The Private raised his fist. “I’m on it. Whitaker, can you give me a hand?”

  “Yep,” she replied with a nod, and the pair jogged off towards the SUVs.

  “What do you want us to do, Sergeant?” Sofia asked, taking a step forward.

  He offered her a smile. “I want you to distribute these weapons to anybody you think can use them without accidentally shooting someone, or themselves. Put them at the barricade and gun down anybody that isn’t us that comes up that road.”

  “I can do that.” She nodded firmly. “What else?”

  He glanced down at the stack of tech gear Simon had salvaged, and dug through for a communicator. He changed the channel to find their frequency, and then punched in a
code. He held it up to his ear, smacking his communicator.

  “Testing, testing.” His voice came out of the device, and he held it out to her. “Keep this close and listen for my signal. I have this on listen only, so you won’t be able to communicate with us. If things go south, though, I can at least warn you.”

  She took it with a reassuring smile. “Or if things go well, you can invite us down for the celebration.”

  “Love your optimism,” he replied with a grin, and turned to the remaining Private. “You got everything you need?”

  Mathis nodded, his arms full of supplies for himself and the others. “Good to go, Sarge.”

  Hammond whirled his hand in the air. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Hammond and Mathis drove the lead SUV, with Whitaker and Landry in the one close behind them. They sped along quickly until the barricade on the north end of Silver City came into view, and slowed to a stop just shy of it.

  The two hunters guarding the barricade squinted at them, a little on edge as they tried to discern who was behind the tinted windows. Finally, Hammond rolled down the driver’s side window and stuck his hand out, waving them over.

  “What do you want?” one of the guards yelled. “You can come on through?”

  Hammond pointed at him and then waved again, more forcefully this time.

  “You’d better go,” the second guard said. “You know how Diego gets when you don’t follow orders.”

  The first guard sighed. “I really do miss the good ole days when he was just an asshole from afar.” He shook his head and strolled up to the window. “What can I do-”

  Hammond grabbed his shirt and pulled him against the window, discreetly shoving a knife into his throat. He held him up, watching the other guard scrutinize them. He narrowed his eyes, and finally straightened his shoulders.

  “Okay Diego, enough’s enough,” he said, walking forward. “You can’t just abuse people like that.”

  When he was within arm’s length of the vehicle, Hammond shoved his charge aside and pointed a handgun at the guard. “Put your gun on the ground or I put you in the ground. Your choice, but make it quick.”

  “Just take it easy bud,” the guard replied, immediately holding out his rifle and lowering it to the road. “I don’t want no trouble.”

  Hammond smiled. “Glad to hear it. There any other guards nearby?”

  “No sir,” he replied, shaking his head emphatically. “Everybody’s been pulled back into town.”

  “I’m inclined to believe you, especially since you know I’ll blow your head off if I think you’re lying,” the Sergeant prompted.

  The guard nodded so hard he looked like a bobblehead. “Yes, sir, yes sir, I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Okay, settle down,” Hammond said.

  Landry and Whitaker exited the SUV in the back and strolled over to the shaking man.

  “Thanks for getting us a chauffeur, Sarge,” Landry declared, checking out the guard from head to toe.

  Hammond shrugged. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

  “How long do you need to get set?” Whitaker asked.

  “You got the hardest setup,” Hammond said, turning to Mathis, “how much time do you need?”

  The sniper pursed his lips. “I say we go in ten.”

  “Ten it is,” the Sergeant said. “Everybody synchronize.”

  They all hit timers on their watches, and then Landry grabbed the guard by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him back to their vehicle. He shoved him in the driver’s seat, and then took a fistful of his collar, leaning in close.

  “I’m gonna lay it out for you, bud,” he growled, eyes ablaze and voice menacing, “I’m going to be sitting right behind you with a gun in my hand. You fuck up in even the slightest manner, I’m going to blow your fucking head off. No, scratch that, I’m going to blow your fucking balls off and then drag you to the closest zombie and feed you to him. Are we clear?”

  “Yes sir yes sir!” the man cried, eyes wide and watery as he did his bobblehead routine again.

  Landry let go of him. “Good.”

  He slammed the door and got into the backseat as Whitaker slid into the passenger seat. She turned around and gave him a raised eyebrow, her signature what the fuck was that look, and he simply gave her a shrug and a sheepish smile. She rolled her eyes at the unnecessarily graphic threat, but couldn’t hide the curl of a smile at her excitable companion.

  He leaned forward and snaked an arm around the seat, planting the barrel of his gun into the guard’s crotch. “When they start driving, you follow. When they turn left, you turn right and come to a full stop immediately. Any questions?”

  “No, no,” he stammered, shaking his head.

  Landry grinned in the rearview. “Get going, then.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Whitaker pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of the SUV, Landry following suit from the other side, keeping his gun trained on the terrified driver.

  “Three minutes,” Whitaker said, glancing at her watch. “I’m going to get in position.”

  Landry nodded. “You take the far side, I’ll take the near.”

  “Let’s do it,” she bumped his fist and tossed the keys to him before jogging off.

  Landry stared intently at his watch and when the countdown hit sixty seconds, he held out the keys to his captive, still shaking in his seat.

  “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” the Private said firmly, pointing a finger in the man’s face. “You’re going to drive real slow up to that boarded up building down there where your friends are hanging out. When you get there, you’re going to stop, get out all frantic and tell them that somebody is attacking the school.”

  The guard blinked at him. “And… and then what?”

  “You tell them to get in, then you haul ass over to the school,” Landry replied. “You don’t stop until you get there.”

  He swallowed hard. “But what do I do once we get there and it’s not under attack?”

  “Frankly, I don’t care because you’ll have done your job.” Landry shrugged. “Go hide in the school, run out into the desert, whatever. Just think long and hard before coming back here and trying to avenge your buddy. Now start it up and go. I’m on a clock here.”

  The guard pursed his lips, but nodded in acceptance, and popped the SUV into gear. He backed up and drove slowly to the end of the block and made the turn.

  “Wow, that dumb son of a bitch is actually doing it,” Landry muttered to himself, and jogged along behind the vehicle, stopping at the corner of the building to peek around as the SUV headed down to the proper building.

  The guard leapt out and yelled, waving his arms like a crazy person, and as expected, the two guards from the door headed down to the vehicle. Landry looked down at his watch, and pulled out his remote detonator as the second ticked down from ten.

  At five, the guards noticed him and one of them yelled out.

  “Close enough,” Landry muttered, and hit the detonator.

  The SUV exploded in a spectacular display, shattering every window for several blocks, tearing the whole front of the boarded up building clean apart. The three unfortunate humans standing next to the blast were immediately vaporized.

  “Let’s get in the building,” Landry called, rubbing at his ear as he rushed over to Whitaker’s position. “I get the sense we’re going to have company coming soon.”

  She shook off the own ringing in her ears, and then nodded.

  The duo jogged up the road, and stepped through the shattered bay window, sweeping the area as they entered. Glass crunched beneath their boots as they inspected what looked to be an old general store, with clothes, sugary treats, and kitschy knick-knacks.

  They moved back to where the stairs were, rushing up to an elevated vantage point. Whitaker took a position in a window opening closest to the zombie warehouse, and Landry headed over to another at the far end nex
t to the street.

  “See anything?” she asked.

  He leaned and looked down the main road, not seeing much in the darkness. However, the detonated SUV showed movement illuminated by the flames.

  “Holy shit,” Landry breathed. “They must have had that motherfucker packed to the gills. There are probably a hundred of those things on the road.”

  Whitaker let out a low whistle. “Well, keep an eye on them, because I don’t want to get surprised.”

  He did, watching the fresh-released zombie horde pour into the street and filter out. Soon, several sets of headlights caught his eye, on the road leading from the high school.

  “Be ready, we got us a convoy,” he warned, squinting as the vehicles got closer. Two broke off and turned towards City Hall. “Looks like we got four incoming vehicles.”

  “Let’s wait til they park ‘em and get out,” Whitaker suggested.

  “Yep,” Landry agreed, “shoot the vehicles and then turn towards them to strand them. And hope our allies help us out.”

  She nodded. “Good a plan as any.”

  The SUVs tore around the corner and parked almost right outside of the general store, forming a makeshift barricade. Five men from each vehicle leapt out and took firing positions. Some looked like hunters, some just like average civilians dressed in jeans. But some were uniformed officers, likely working under their beloved sheriff.

  “Wait for them to fire, to cover our noise,” Whitaker said.

  Landry nodded. “Following your lead.”

  She aimed through her rifle, focusing on the vehicle closest to her. The men down there were behind their cover, waiting for the zombies to get closer to them. The corpses stumbled around half a block away, slowly moving towards the still-warm cars.

  Finally somebody yelled “FIRE!” and the men did so, taking out a few zombies in the front line. As the zombies got closer, the shooting became more sporadic, and the soldiers took the opportunity presented to them.

  Whitaker hit the engine block with a precise round before moving and punching a hole through a hunter’s head. The sudden crumpling body caused the man next to him to look around frantically, and turned his face just in time to take a bullet in it.