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

by Derek Slaton

  The man nodded. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna do shit.”

  Terrell escorted the hillbilly shooter to the front of the store, and holstered his gun, crossing his arms. “What’s your name?”

  “My friends call me Zeke,” the guy replied, taking a spot next to Bobby and Foster.

  The Captain nodded. “All right Zeke, why don’t you bring out the rest of your posse?”

  “Y’all come out,” the shooter raised a hand, and a frightened young woman stepped out of the darkness with two young boys in tow. All of them were blood spattered and wide-eyed, and Terrell’s stance immediately relaxed.

  “Zeke, go over to your family,” he said softly, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Be with you in a moment.”

  He nodded and rushed to his family, who embraced him tightly. “Come on now,” he cooed, “it’s gonna be okay.”

  Bennett and Martinez jointed the other two at the table, bracing it with every heavy object they could find. Terrell surveyed it, unsure how long it would hold.

  “Coleman, take Martinez and Bennett and start collecting what we need and get it to the roof,” Terrell instructed. “Use our new friend Zeke over there, too.”

  The Corporal winced. “Isn’t that a bit harsh, Cap? Making them clear out their own supply?”

  “Normally I’d agree with you, but they’re coming with us,” the Captain replied.

  Coleman raised an eyebrow. “You think Colonel Wagner is going to be okay with you bringing civilians to the base?”

  “That barricade ain’t gonna hold, and I don’t feel right fucking up their hiding spot and leaving them for dead,” Terrell said.

  The Corporal nodded. “I’m with you, Cap.”

  “Besides, what’s Wagner going to do?” The Captain rolled his eyes. “Revoke my weekend pass?”

  “What, you already had your fill of the city?” Coleman grinned.

  Terrell put up a hand. “More than my fill.”

  “Again,” the Corporal said, “I’m with you, Cap.” He smacked Terrell on the shoulder as he moved. “Martinez, Foster, start securing the supplies. Let’s get this shit done so we can go home!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Freeman drove his large transport truck through waves of zombies as if parting the sea as the run rose over the horizon. He crushed as many as he could and then slowed to a stop against the side of the stadium, Gardner following close behind. The horde of ghouls extended as far as the eye could see, and they were very interested in the noisy vehicles, banging on the sides with fervor.

  “Man, looks like game day out there,” Freeman joked, taking a deep breath at the insane amount of walking corpses.

  Webb nodded. “Yeah, and we’re the main course for the tailgating barbecue.” There were several loud thuds from the roof of the cab, and Freeman grinned.

  “Sounds like we’re going to disappoint them,” he said, and stood up to unlatch the top panel. He climbed out onto the roof, surveying the rope ladders dangling down from the second level of the stadium and brushing the top of the truck.

  “Go ahead and get up there,” Webb said. “I’ll help the people up.”

  “Move quickly,” Freeman replied. “We may have to go rescue the Cap.”

  His companion nodded. “I’m on it.”

  The Corporal climbed the swaying ladder, quickly reaching the top. He looked around the throng of military grunts helping civilians to safety.

  “Where’s Bill?” Freeman called loudly. “I need Bill!” He walked through the crowd, continuing to call for Bill Huff, and finally found the older man barking instructions to the military men.

  “If the person is a VIP, escort them to section two-thirteen!” he yelled over the sea of men in fatigues. “If they are civilians, take them to section two-fifteen! If anyone needs medical care, there are doctors standing by in each section!”

  Freeman approached him. “Bill, and word on the Cap?” he huffed.

  “Corporal, good job on getting these people to safety,” Bill replied, reaching out to clap him on the back. “You did a great thing, here.”

  “Thanks,” Freeman said hurriedly, “but what’s the status on the Cap?”

  Bill smiled. “He’s a couple of blocks away.”

  “Okay, tell him to stay put,” the Corporal replied. “When we get these people off, we’ll go pick him up.”

  “Negative.” Bill shook his head. “We have a plan to get him back safely, but it requires him to remain hidden.”

  Freeman furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “I don’t get it.” He crossed his arms in defiance. “Why risk him being in the open when we have the transports?”

  “Because he’s already out of the heart of the city, and there isn’t a building tall enough to safely extract him,” Bill replied, waving at a few civilians to stay close to their military escort. “The horde you’d bring with you would overrun them.”

  Freeman growled, clenching his fists. “Fine. Just tell me where he’s coming in.”

  Bill reached out and grabbed the arm of a passing army grunt. “Please take the Corporal to the practice field tunnel,” he instructed.

  “Please follow me, sir,” the grunt said, and led the way. Freeman followed him as Bill turned back to directing traffic. The flow of people was seemingly endless, but they were quick to get up the ladders to safety.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Frank and Millie peered out the window of the small single story building they’d stopped in to take a breather. There were a few zombies wandering by to join the stadium horde, of which—even though they were a few blocks away—the back end was visible from their position.

  “Man, it’s a long haul,” the Captain said with a sigh. “You up to it?” He turned to look at her, receiving only her blank stare in return. He used his fingers to make a running motion, and then pointed to the practice field building across the way.

  She furrowed her brow at the plethora of zombies up the street, and then clenched her jaw, turning back to him to nod. Frank checked his assault rifle, noting a measly four bullets left in the mag. He opened his handgun and couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh at the single bullet in the chamber.

  “Well, this oughta be fun,” he muttered.

  Millie worried at her lip, staring at him with wide-eyed concern, but he gave her a smile and a thumbs up to try to put her at ease. After a flicker of confusion crossed her face, she reluctantly returned the gesture.

  Frank got to his feet and pointed to her, then touched his back and held his hands slightly apart. “Stay close to me, okay?” he asked, and she nodded, likely more to the miming than the words themselves. He cracked open the door, raised his near-useless rifle, and then darted out into the street, staying as light on his feet as possible.

  Regardless of their silence, the duo were barely ten feet out the door when they attracted the attention of a couple of zombies skirting the building. As soon as their eyes locked on the fresh meat, they screamed and tore towards them. Millie shrieked something in Spanish, and Frank tried to keep his eyes on the ones coming her way as well as a trio on his own side. He thought quick and spray-and-prayed his last four bullets into the trifecta, taking down two with headshots and hitting the third in the neck.

  The throat-gored zombie continued to rush them, and the Captain lowered his shoulder to linebacker his way through, knocking his opponent to the ground. He didn’t bother stopping to stab it in the head, instead leaping over it to lead Millie through the now clear path towards the practice facility building.

  Several more zombies had joined the pursuit behind them, and Frank whipped his assault rifle into the crowd, tripping up a few zombies when the strap tangled in their rotted legs. This bought the duo a few precious seconds, and the Captain drew his handgun as they made it to the large glass panel at the front of the building.

  “Don’t fuck this one up,” he whispered to himself, and let his last bullet fly. It was on target, shattering the window, and he leapt through, Mi
llie hot on his heels. It was a darkened workout room with rows and rows of machines and free weights. Frank grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side, running to duck behind a large bench press machine.

  Dozens of zombies poured into the building, heads swiveling around as they used whatever senses it was that they used to try to find their prey. Frank noticed a glass wall about thirty yards away, the practice field in view. He turned to Millie, putting a finger to his lips, and then pointing at the glass wall. He led her towards it, staying in a silent crouch.

  They made it about halfway before she stumbled over the metal footing of a rowing machine. The duo froze, hoping the small noise wouldn’t be enough to alert their predators.

  The zombies screeched and tore in their general direction.

  “Fuck!” Frank cried, and groped for her hand in the darkness. As he gripped her wrist, he jerked her along with him as the corpses began to zero in on them. The fleeing humans rushed down an aisle, zombies approaching on all sides.

  They wove around machines, somehow managing not to trip and fall to their deaths, and made it around to the giant window wall. A zombie reached out and managed to grab Millie’s arm, and she shrieked something unintelligible but clearly full of fear. Frank turned and grabbed the zombie by its throat and belt, teeth snapping dangerously close to his tricep and as he lifted it clean off of the ground.

  He ran full tilt towards the window, ducking down just before impact and planting his shoulder into the corpse’s chest. They slammed into it in just the right spot, the impact shattering the glass, the zombie thrashing about wildly all the while.

  The Captain did a shoulder roll to dive to safety as they hit the grass, but the zombie flopped over to him. He picked it up in a reverse bear hug and then slammed it down into the ground headfirst, the satisfying crunch of its neck reverberating in the chill air.

  Millie leapt from the window and tore past him across the field, zombies pouring out of the building behind her. Frank took off into a sprint, keeping stride with her and leading them towards the outbuilding.

  That better be the right door… he thought as he pumped his legs harder than he’d ever thought possible, and it better be unlocked!

  Dozens more zombies converged on them, coming at them across the grass from multiple angles behind them. Frank remained focused on getting to the door, and upon reaching it, threw it open and Millie practically flew inside.

  He slammed it shut, struggling against several zombies wedged in, and his unlikely companion turned to help him push. He shoved her back and pointed towards the other end of the lit tunnel, the fluorescent casting a greenish glow on their pallid faces.

  “Run!” he screamed, and she hesitated for a moment with wide eyes before turning and tearing down the cement tunnel. Frank braced his feet and locked his legs, but slowly lost ground as the door inched further and further open.

  He raised his radio to his lips in a frenzy. “Bill! Do you copy?!”

  “I’m here, Captain.”

  “I’m in the tunnel, have a civilian running towards the door!” Frank cried.

  Without hesitation, Bill replied, “Hang on, I’m patching Corporal Freeman in.”

  “Freeman here,” came the familiar tone.

  “You at the tunnel door?” Frank asked, hissing at the strain in his legs.

  “Yeah, locked and loaded!”

  The Captain let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t shoot the girl running towards you,” he urged, voice coming out a thick grunt.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” Freeman laughed.

  “You got the detonator for the tunnel?” Frank demanded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hit it,” the Captain ordered, groaning as he managed to push back the tiniest bit against the door.

  “Fuck that, Cap,” Freeman shot back. “I got a plan.”

  “Well you better fucking hurry up,” Frank seethed, “I can’t hold this much longer.”

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and in the distance the Captain could make out the silhouettes of two figures.

  “Brace the door and kneel down as low as you can get,” Freeman’s voice came through the radio, and Frank complied, lowering his body and pressing against the door with everything he had. “When we stop firing, you run like hell.”

  “Got it!” the Captain cried, and then a torrent of lead unleashed on his position. It tore open the top half of the door, bits of wood and blood splattering everywhere and coating the walls as the enemies and the door shredded to pieces.

  Frank got ready to spring, like a runner on the starting mark, and as soon as the prolonged barrage ceased he sprinted towards his comrades. The bombardment bought him a few seconds, as the fresh zombies stumbled over their holey brethren to get into the tunnel. A grenade flew over the Captain’s head as he approached Freeman, and then the duo ran as hard as they could to the stadium, not even flinching at the explosion behind them. Any hesitation could mean death, and all they wanted to do was reach the door.

  Body parts ricocheted off the walls, wet slaps of rotted flesh hitting cement all around them as they reached the door.

  “Hit it hit it hit it!” Frank screamed as they got through the door, slamming it shut behind them, and Freeman punched the detonator. The walls shook as the C4 went off, collapsing the tunnel and giving the corpses a proper burial. Frank stayed pressed against the door, not wanting to trust that there was nothing on the other side of it.

  “We should board this up,” he suggested, chest heaving. “Just to be sure.”

  “Not even back thirty-seconds and you’re already dishing out orders,” Freeman pointed out.

  They broke into laughter immediately, high-pitched gasping sob-giggles over what had just transpired.

  “How the fuck did we survive that?” Frank wheezed as their fit subsided.

  Freeman shook his head, brushing tears from his cheeks. “Fuck if I know, Cap.”

  Millie threw herself against Frank, crying and blubbering something in Spanish.

  “Looks like you made quite the impression,” the Corporal said, raising his eyebrows.

  Frank gently patted her back. “It would appear so.”

  Freeman furrowed his brow and then rattled off a few sentences in Spanish, as his Captain looked on in surprise. He and Millie exchanged a few words, hers thick with tears.

  “What… what the fuck was that?” Frank cut in during a break in the conversation. “Where did you learn to speak Spanish?”

  “I grew up in South Texas and love Mexican food,” Freeman replied with a shrug. “It was either learn Spanish, or forever be cursed with subpar meals.”

  The Captain shook his head and chuckled. “All right,” he replied with a sigh, “we gotta go find Bill for a debrief.”

  “He’s by the transports with the rest of the team,” the Corporal replied. “Come on.”

  The trio headed down the hallway, and Millie grabbed Frank’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Terrell stood up from his vantage point on top of the transport truck as it stopped just short of Fort Bragg’s gate, hundreds of zombies swarming the sides. He walked to the front portion, parallel with the guard tower. He aimed down at four zombies between the vehicle and the gate, but after three shots his gun let out a dull click.

  “Soldier,” the Captain called to the guard tower, “need to borrow a mag.”

  The young Private tossed a magazine over to him, and Terrell loaded it up and shot the last zombie in the head.

  “OK boys, front is clear, you can open the gate,” he declared, and several troops pulled the large gate open, just wide enough for the bus to nose it’s way in. The vehicle inched forward, the troops holding the gate tight flush against the side so that the zombies were forced to stay at the outside. Terrell hung his head over the left side to keep an eye on it, banging on the back of the truck to try to direct the corpses away from the guard tower.

  As the end of the bus inched inside, the gatekee
pers slid everything closed against the back of it, not a single corpse breaching. Terrell slid down to the ground, grin erupting on his face.

  “That worked like a charm, Cap!” Foster exclaimed from the driver’s seat.

  The Captain gave him a salute. “Hey, when you’re good, you’re good!”

  “We doing another run?” the Corporal asked.

  Terrell shook his head. “Nah, it’s time for us to get to the stadium. You and Bennett get the goods over to the transport chopper and take off once it’s loaded,” he instructed. “Coleman and Martinez are a few minutes behind us, so I’ll catch a ride with them. Gotta go debrief Wagner as it is.”

  “You got it Cap,” Foster replied. “We’ll see you in a bit.” He drove off and the Captain strode to Wagner’s office.

  The Colonel wasn’t buried in phones this time, but was deep in discussion with Corporal Lynch while office workers ran around them like buzzing bees.

  “Colonel Wagner, Corporal Lynch,” Terrell greeted.

  Wagner turned to him, offering his hand to shake. “Captain. How’d the mission go?”

  “First transport is headed to the helipad, the other is a few minutes behind,” the Captain replied and shook. “We cleared this city out as best we could.”

  Lynch nodded.. “Based on my calculations, everything we’re loading up now is gravy.”

  “That a technical term there, Corporal?” Terrell raised an eyebrow.

  “For our purposes, yes.” The young Corporal cracked a smile. “The Charlotte fortress, assuming they ration properly, have enough food and basic supplies to last them for a few months. More than enough time to get the greenhouses up and running.”

  Wagner raised his chin. “Well, Captain, I suppose that finishes up your mission here.”

  “And yours, too,” Terrell replied, motioning to the Colonel. “You know where y’all are being evacuated to?”

  “The higher ups have seen fit to not make us a priority,” Wagner replied. “My current orders are to fortify and sit tight.”

  An ear-piercing alarm echoed throughout the room and throughout the base. The Lieutenant Colonel leapt into action, face reddening with rage.