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

by Derek Slaton

  “Hey, Hoyt,” the Captain asked over his shoulder, “these some of the people who been bothering you?”

  The old man nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”

  “I got a counter offer for you, Ralph,” Terrell declared. “I’m gonna let your boy here go, provided you explain to me why you’re hassling these poor folks. What do you say, we got a deal?”

  Ralph nodded. “OK, I can do that.”

  Andrew started to crawl back to his friends, but Terrell stamped down on his shoulder with his boot, preventing his movement. “Now, one more thing,” he said, “just for my own personal comfort. What do you say we deescalate the situation a bit? Maybe secure our weapons.”

  Ralph turned and waved to his crew, and they slung their rifles onto their backs. Terrell let go of Andrew and he slithered back to his friends.

  “Now, you gonna honor our disarmament agreement, there?” Ralph asked, motioning to the shotgun.

  Terrell looked at it and shrugged, then laid it on the ground beside him. “Now, fair is fair after all. Now why don’t you come over here and explain to me why you’re bothering these nice folks.”

  The redneck took a deep breath. “Well you see, Terrell-”

  “Nah, Ralph.” The Captain put up a hand to stop him. “This feels like a man to man conversation to me. Why don’t you come over here and explain it to me privately instead of announcing it to the world?” The redneck hesitated, glancing back at Andrew’s bleeding face. “Come on now, I don’t bite.”

  Ralph nodded to his buddies, and then approached the Captain until they were at arm’s length.

  Terrell lowered his voice. “Now, what’s your problem with these people?”

  “Well, as I’m sure you are well aware, things have taken a turn for the worse in the last couple of days,” Ralph replied, matching his quiet demeanor. “And without going into too many specifics, they have some things in town that my friends and I require.”

  “So that’s it, then?” Terrell raised an eyebrow. “You want to rob these people?”

  The redneck scoffed. “Not a matter of wanting to, it’s needing to.”

  “Y’all look like you can handle yourselves pretty well, at least against most obstacles,” the Captain mused. “Why aren’t you out there fending for yourselves instead of trying to take from people who are clearly not as strong as you?”

  “Look, it’s nothing personal.” Ralph put his hands up. “Just survival of the fittest.”

  Terrell shook his head. “Hm. Survival of the fittest. That’s your reasoning?”

  “Yes sir, it’s as simple as that,” the redneck replied with a smile.

  “Well, it is what it is, I suppose,” the Captain said with a sigh. “Now, what are we going to do about our little standoff here?”

  Ralph shrugged. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, we can head our separate ways for the day. Although just a bit of friendly advice since it looks like you’re just passing through. If you’re staying in town tonight, you may wanna get an early start towards your destination tomorrow.”

  “Putting your survival of the fittest into practice?” Terrell raised an eyebrow.

  The redneck cocked his head. “Not my call to make, however… if I were a betting man…”

  “I tell you what, you seem like a man of your word,” the Captain said. “Why don’t we shake on a truce for the day?”

  Ralph looked at the Captain’s outstretched hand, and then back at his face. He finally nodded and took it. “Truce it is.”

  Terrell yanked his arm and then chopped down with his free hand to break his elbow. He wrenched the shattered arm behind Ralph’s back, his captive shrieking in pain as he became a human shield.

  The trio moved to grab their guns, but Coleman emerged from the shadows behind them, a gun in each hand. “Oh, please, please keep moving,” he said.

  The rednecks quickly let go of their weapons, raising their hands.

  Terrell lowered his mouth to Ralph’s ear, snarling as the redneck whimpered. “Do I look fit enough for you, motherfucker?” he asked, pleased as his charge nodded and sputtered in the affirmative. “Hoyt, if you’d be so kind as to collect the weapons and ammo from our guests,” the Captain directed. “Just be mindful of the potential blood splatter should any of them try to do anything other than remain perfectly still.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hoyt replied and quickly collected the weapons. The rednecks didn’t move a muscle with Coleman stationed behind them. Once he was clear and the rifles were in the cart, Terrell gave Ralph’s arm one more violent tweak before kicking him towards his friends.

  He drew his sidearm and pointed it at the redneck’s head. “You know Ralph, I’ve thought about what you said, and I feel obliged to give you a bit of personal info,” Terrell said, as conversational as if he were talking about the weather. “I’m kind of a fan of sleeping in, so you may want to pass that long to whoever you see fit. I get the sense that information might impact your morning activities.”

  Ralph grimaced as one of his buddies helped him to his feet, and they turned to leave.

  “Hold up a sec,” Terrell piped up, and looked to Walter. “You got any bandages in that cart?”

  The kid rummaged and picked up a roll of gauze. “Yes sir,” he replied.

  “Would you please toss it over to our injured friend?” The Captain motioned to the seething redneck. “I wouldn’t want him thinking that was something personal.”

  Walter tossed the gauze to the group, and Andrew picked it up, glaring daggers at them.

  “Coleman, please see our friends here get where they’re going,” Terrell instructed as they passed the Corporal.

  Coleman grinned. “Oh, I’ll make sure they remember where they parked.” He followed the rednecks out of the store at gunpoint, and Terrell bent down to pick up the shotgun he’d set on the tile. He strode over and set it in Hoyt’s shopping cart, letting out a deep breath as he addressed the old man.

  “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 hi
s 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,” h
e 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.