Dead America: The First Week Box Set Books 1-7 (Dead America Box Sets Book 2)

by Derek Slaton

  DEAD AMERICA: THE FIRST WEEK BOOK TWO

  CHAPTER ONE

  “How’s it looking out there?” Marie asked from the doorway.

  Captain Frank Kyle sat against one of the skywalk pillars, staring seven floors down to the street. The sun set over the horizon, but the street remained illuminated by a number of car fires and flickering street lights. A few rogue zombies staggered around, looking for an evening snack.

  “Nothing but death and destruction,” Frank sighed. “But on the plus side, traffic is pretty light for rush hour.”

  Marie chuckled softly. “Finally, a bit of good news.” She tossed him an apple and sat down across from him, leaning against her own pillar.

  “Oh, an apple, that’s mighty generous of you,” he replied, and shined it on a small bit of clean fabric left on his sleeve.

  “Well, when you consider it could be years before we see another one of those, yeah, it is mighty generous,” she retorted.

  He nodded, sobering a touch. “Well, that’s a bit of a downer.”

  “Don’t get too down, at least traffic is light tonight,” Marie reminded him.

  He gazed back out the window. “That it is.” He took a deep breath. “So. How are we looking in there?”

  “Civilians are scared shitless, but the team is holding up pretty well, all things considered,” she said.

  Frank nodded. “And Owens?”

  “He’s a tough son of a bitch, I’ll give him that,” she said. “But that bite on his hand is getting worse. I don’t know how much time he has left.”

  He drew his lip between his teeth with a soft hiss before taking another bite from the apple. There was a crackle as his communicator came to life.

  “Captain Kyle?” Bill’s voice asked. “It’s Bill Huff, do you copy?”

  “About damn time,” Frank muttered, and lifted the device to his mouth. “Yeah Bill, we’re here. What’s the status?”

  “We’ve got two choppers inbound, will be landing on the field in thirty,” he replied. “They should be off the ground in twenty, so they’ll be headed to you within the hour. Will you be ready?”

  “Copy that,” Frank said. “We’ll be ready to roll. What sort of max capacity are we looking at?”

  “No more than twelve per chopper,” Bill replied. “I know they can handle more weight, but with the fuel situation being what it is…”

  The Captain nodded. “Understood, Bill, you don’t have to explain any further.”

  “It’s so nice working with professionals,” came the reply.

  Frank cracked a ghost of a smile. “Likewise. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

  “Ten-four. Bill out.”

  The Captain took another big crunchy bite of the sweet fruit before hauling himself up to his feet. “Time to get the boys.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Reyes, I want you and Marie to get the people into groups for transport,” Frank directed as he led his team across the skywalk to the parking garage. “Check their credentials, anybody who was an attendee at the conference gets moved first. It’s going to take multiple runs to move everybody, so if this goes south, at least the VIPs will be taken care of.”

  Freeman raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a pep talk there, Cap.”

  “Well, we’re about to sound the alarm to every zombie in a thirty block radius that we’re here,” the Captain replied. “I don’t know how smart these things are, but I’m betting they are attracted to sound.”

  “Man, anybody wanna take a bet on how many we get out before we are overrun?” the Corporal asked, raising a hand.

  “What’s the over/under, Pumpkin Spice?” Marie gave him a wink.

  Freeman grinned. “For you, I’ll go thirty-nine.”

  “I’ll take a hundred on the under,” she replied.

  He laughed. “Deal!”

  “Captain, how big do you want those groups?” Marie turned her attention to Frank.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You heard Bill, give ‘em to me in groups of twelve.”

  Freeman’s eyes widened. “But… I… these things hold twenty people… motherfucker.” His shoulders slumped, and Marie patted him on the back with a smug grin.

  “Don’t worry Pumpkin Spice, I’m pretty sure there’s an ATM in the lobby,” she cooed.

  They reached the door to the parking garage, and Webb and Gardner took offensive positions while the others covered them. Webb unraveled the chain, and they stood at the ready to fling the doors open.

  “We move silently and quickly,” Frank reminded the group in a low voice. “Guns as a last resort. Last thing we want is to alert them now.”

  “Yes sir,” his team replied in unison, and he raised his hand.

  “All right, let’s move,” he said, and they threw open the doors.

  Frank and Freeman rushed in first, lights illuminating the darkened garage from the tops of their guns. The seventh floor was nothing but a mostly empty structure with a trio of cars parked up in the valet section.

  “Move up,” Frank ordered quietly, and they marched up the incline to the next floor, scanning around them for any sign of movement. They made it all the way up to the ninth floor clearing, where there was a lone zombie shuffling aimlessly around the concrete.

  Frank drew his knife and darted forward, the corpse whipping around to meet him. It sprinted and he took a quick side-step, tripping it face first into a parking space. The Captain expertly slammed his knife into the back of the zombie’s head before it could screech, and it fell limp. He wiped the blood from the knife on the back of the corpse’s jacket and then bounced back up to his feet to rejoin the group.

  “All right, now we just have to hope there’s nothing below us,” Freeman said.

  Webb grinned. “Sounds like you just volunteered to check it out, Freeman.”

  “I second that,” Gardner added.

  Freeman closed his eyes. “Dammit.”

  “Hey, look at the bright side,” Frank pointed out, “at least we aren’t all calling you Pumpkin Spice yet.”

  “I hope there is something down there,” the Corporal muttered as he wandered back down the ramp, “because I really need to beat something to death.”

  The trio of soldiers had a short laugh as they jogged to catch up to him. They reached the skywalk but Webb stopped at the valet key box.

  “Hey, Cap,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

  “Let’s use the cars,” the Corporal suggested.

  “Yeah, we’ll just head out on a leisurely Sunday evening drive.” Freeman rolled his eyes.

  “I meant as a barricade, dumbass,” Webb snapped. “I know that those three vehicles aren’t going to close off the entire driveway, but if we get a handful of zombies it would at least force them into choke points.”

  “Actually, you just gave me a better idea.” Frank pointed a finger at his companion. “Let’s get ‘em moved to the down ramp there, but aim them straight ahead. If we get a swarm of those things we’re going to get overrun even if they are coming through the bottleneck. Hoping some vehicular assault might have better luck.”

  Gardner lifted a C4 block from his pack and juggled it with one hand. “Especially if we attach a little of this.”

  “How much of that shit you got?” Freeman asked.

  “If the wind is blowing in the right direction, I’m pretty sure I can get you to the stadium,” Gardner replied. “Might not be in one piece, but most of you will get there.”

  “Good to know we have a backup plan,” Frank said, and clapped him on the back. “All right boys, lets get it done, we’re on the clock.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Frank and Marie stood on the skywalk, looking down at the street at Freeman led the first group of civilians across to the parking garage.

  “First batch ready to go, Cap,” he said.

  Frank nodded. “You’d better get a move on,” he replied. “Bill just radioed in that the first transpor
t is about to take off.”

  “All right, you heard the man, let’s get moving!” Freeman bellowed to his group, and led them at a brisk pace.

  Frank lifted his radio to his lips. “Owens, move the second batch up,” he instructed.

  “Ten-four, Cap,” Owens’ voice crackled through.

  “Webb, Reyes, Gardner, be on alert,” Frank added into the radio. “Chopper is inbound.”

  “We’re at the cars ready to light up whatever comes our way,” Webb replied.

  Marie stepped closer to Frank, gun in hand. “So, what can I do?”

  “Watch down the other side of the street, let me know if we have any incoming visitors,” Frank instructed. They stood watching the street, the flickering flames illuminating an occasional zombie staggering across the street.

  Owens entered the skywalk with the next group of civilians. “Next batch ready to go, Cap.”

  “Hang tight here until we unload the first batch,” Frank replied.

  The Corporal opened his mouth to say Yes sir, but instead dissolved into a harsh coughing fit that dropped him to one knee. Marie turned to assist him but he waved her off.

  “I’m good,” he assured her through a wheezing breath. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  She shot Frank a concerned look, but the Captain simply shrugged. He knew this wasn’t the time to be worrying about it. They had a job to do.

  Helicopter blades sounded in the distance, and the response was almost immediate.

  “Frank, we have a problem!” Marie cried, and he darted to her side of the skywalk where there were hundreds of zombies emerging from the shadows. They moved towards the parking garage as the chopper began its slow descent to land on top of it.

  A few of the civilians screamed and the Captain whipped around to see the zombies swarming the parking deck.

  “Owens, get these people back to the hotel, now!” he screamed, and the Corporal leapt into action. He motioned the crowd back, and Frank and Marie headed quickly to the other side of the skywalk to survey the scene. “Marie, go with them!” Frank demanded, and she darted back to help Owens usher the group back into the hotel.

  The Captain lifted his radio as he ran into the garage. “Freeman, we have incoming. Are they out yet?”

  “Negative!” Freeman’s voice came back. “The pilot is having issues with the landing zone. Three, maybe four minutes.”

  “Fucking hell,” Frank grunted, and lifted the mouthpiece again. “As soon as that chopper lands, you run like hell back to the hotel. Do not wait for them to take off.”

  “Ten-four,” Freeman replied.

  The Captain ran down to the car defenses, the moans from the oncoming horde echoing up the cement structure. He jumped into the driver’s seat of the SUV in the middle. “Webb, Reyes, on me,” he said. “Rear fire positions.”

  The two Corporals leapt into the backseat, guns at the ready.

  He grabbed the C4 from the front seat, and tossed it to Gardner. “Grab the other two blocks and get that skywalk ready to blow. Middle third ought to do.” He cranked up the SUV and threw it into gear, peeling off towards the down ramp as Gardner tore off in the direction of the skywalk.

  Frank drove down two floors, and skidded into a one-eighty slide. They sat silently with the windows down, guns poking out into the darkness. The moans and pitter-squelch of rotting flesh stampeding their way echoed around them.

  “When they come around that corner, you light them up,” Frank said firmly. “Don’t worry about headshots, we just want to slow them down. Webb, you got grenades?”

  “Yes, sir!” the Corporal replied.

  “When we come around the next corner, drop one at that car,” the Captain instructed, pointing at the vehicle in question.

  Webb nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s under the gas tank for maximum impact.”

  “That’s my boy,” Frank commended.

  The groans and shuffling grew louder and louder, and Frank threw the SUV into gear. He revved the engine to draw some attention. The Corporals readied their weapons, watching for the first glimpse of an approaching zombie. The stampede grew louder and louder, the sounds ricocheting everywhere until finally the first wave came into view.

  Without waiting for permission, Webb and Reyes unloaded full automatic fire into the oncoming horde, shredding the first few rows of them. They flew backwards, tripping up the waves behind them as Frank punched the accelerator.

  “Webb, grenade!” the Captain yelled as they flew around the corner, the Corporals firing all the while. Webb stopped to ready the explosive, braced himself against the window frame, and deftly lobbed the device underneath the beat up sedan.

  “Package delivered!” he cried as he watched the grenade bounce to exactly where he’d wanted it to go, and resumed firing.

  Frank sped up to get them clear of the blast, the zombies about thirty yards behind them and keeping pace. The front line of corpses were past the sedan when the grenade detonated, sending hunks of metal careening through masses of decrepit flesh.

  Webb and Reyes continued to take them down as best they could, knocking them back.

  Frank screeched to a stop just before the barricade cars, and leapt out of the vehicle. “Head to the skywalk!” he demanded, and the Corporals bolted. He grabbed a briefcase from the backseat and shoved the shifter into reverse before jamming the case against the gas pedal.

  The SUV tore down the incline, smacking into the wave of zombies and running them right down the middle like a bowler getting a seven-ten split. Corpses flew through the air, but more just kept coming, climbing over their fallen brethren.

  The Captain tore towards the skywalk, pulling a grenade as he went. He tossed it back over his shoulder like a dinner guess throwing a pinch of salt for good luck, and skidded into the skywalk. The grenade detonated, barely fazing the oncoming mass.

  “Just run, those doors aren’t going to hold!” Frank yelled at Webb and Reyes, who were waiting for him at the handles. The trio pumped their legs as hard as they could across the skywalk, making it about a third of the way before the first zombie hit. Gardner was at the far end, detonator in hand, Freeman and Owens flanking him with their guns up for cover fire.

  When the three running soldiers got about ten steps past the C4, Frank cried, “Hit it! Hit it!”

  Gardner hesitated, wary of how close they would be to the blast. “You got em, right?”

  “Yep,” Freeman replied.

  “Hit it, goddammit!” Frank screamed.

  Gardner mashed the button, and the force of the blast knocked the trio forward to the ground, as well as a few zombies that were just on the closer edge. Freeman and Owens quickly picked off the stragglers as the Captain and Corporals staggered to their feet.

  “Cap, you all right?” Freeman asked.

  Frank sat up and shook his head, head ringing a bit from the explosion.

  “Frank, you good, man?” Freeman repeated.

  The Captain nodded and took a deep breath. “Where’s Gardner?”

  The Corporal approached. “You all right, sir?”

  “Normally, I’d be chewing you out for ignoring an order…” Frank began, and shook his head a bit to try to clear it. “But goddamn, you made the right call on that one.”

  “Yeah Cap, I used a little more than usual to make sure I got the job done,” Gardner said as he helped his superior off of the ground.

  Frank turned to watch the zombies screeching angrily on the other side of the skywalk, plummeting to the street below like lemmings.

  “All right,” the Captain said. “Looks like it’s time for plan B.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Corporal Coleman approached Captain Graham, who was sitting on a bench in Fort Bragg bobbing his head. Upon drawing nearer, he could hear rap music blasting into his comrade’s ears at what seemed like a million decibels.

  “Hey, Cap,” Coleman said, sidestepping so that he was within eyesight. Terrell noticed him, but closed his eyes briefly, continui
ng to bob his head for a few more moments. The Corporal waited patiently.

  “Sorry Coleman,” the Captain said with a sigh, pulling the buds from his ears as he turned to face his friend. “Just wanted to finish that up. Needed to clear my head.”

  “Rap music again?” the Corporal asked.

  Terrell straightened. “You got a problem with it?”

  “No problem.” Coleman raised his hands, palms up. “Just don’t understand the appeal. How do you find enjoyment listening to someone talk over a repetitive beat?”

  “You, of all people, have something against repetition?” The Captain rolled his eyes. “Tell me, how many hours this year have you spent watching grown men drive in a circle?”

  His companion shook his head. “Come on, that’s different.”

  “How?” Terrell raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet.

  Coleman pursed his lips in thought, and then smirked. “Well, racing is dangerous! Drivers have been killed before.”

  “That’s the best you got?” The Captain laughed. “Shit man, rap has a way larger body count than NASCAR.”

  The Corporal paused a moment before shaking his head and joining in the laughter. “Yeah, I think you got me there.”

  Terrell slung a pack of gear over his shoulder. “The boys about ready to head out?”

  “Just waiting on you, Cap,” Coleman replied.

  “All right,” he agreed with a nod. “Come on, I gotta go touch base with Wagner and Lynch before we go. Hopefully they’ll have an update for us.”

  Wagner’s office was in complete and utter chaos. The man in question had a phone on either side of his head, and another in his hand. His eyes were wild as he barked into all of the receivers at once, rustling papers around with his elbow.

  Lynch stood near his command bunker, and waved them over. “Captain, good to see you again,” he greeted the pair.

  “What have you got for me, Lynch?” Terrell asked. “How’s it looking out there?”

  “Well, our boys are still safe and sound as their barricaded store room has held up,” the Corporal replied. “The city, on the other hand, is a clusterfuck.” He tensed up for a moment, eyes growing wide at the realization that he’d just dropped an f-bomb in front of a superior officer.