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

by Derek Slaton

  They got to a clearing and he slammed on the brakes, a large open area about the size of a football field. Xavier’s transport truck was parked underneath a large grain silo to the right. There was a wooden barn that looked old but strong to the left, attached to a large horse stable in the center.

  As soon as the truck lurched to a stop, the soldiers dove out of their respective doors and sprinted in separate directions. Terrell took the barn, and Coleman made a mad dash for the silo, taking the spiral staircase two at a time.

  Barely a minute later, a pickup truck arrived, two in the cab and four in the bed. Coleman crouched behind the half-wall at the top of the silo, peeking over and then lifting his radio to his mouth.

  “Hey Cap, you read me?” he said quietly. “We got company.”

  Terrell came back through, hissing but clear. “What we got?”

  Coleman peered through the scope, taking in the men milling around the truck, guns at the ready in defensive positions.

  “It’s your old buddy Ralph and his merry band of cousin fuckers,” the Corporal replied. “Looks like Big Boy and the two underlings are working their way towards you. Guess that means I got the other three. Let me know when you’re ready to start the fireworks.”

  “You got a target?” Terrell asked.

  Coleman took a deep breath and lined up a shot, aiming at one of the boys that walked in front of Ralph. “Do it,” he breathed, and Terrell leaned out of the barn door to open fire.

  The center man fell to the ground, peppered with bullets, the other men splitting to dive to either side. Andrew couldn’t get behind cover and fired his shotgun wildly at the barn door.

  Terrell ducked back behind cover, narrowly missing the shot, and staying pressed up against a wooden crate as another shot hit the door. He dove out to fire back, but Andrew slammed into the door, sending the Captain tumbling backwards, gun skipping away across the dirt.

  Terrell leapt back to his feet, immediately rushing the redneck in a perfect form tackle, slamming him down onto his back. Before he could get a punch in, another redneck bustled into the barn, raising his shotgun to fire. The Captain dove, but Andrew tripped him, regaining his footing and leaning over him with a sneer.

  “Go help the others,” he directed his friend. “I’ll take care of him.”

  The shotgun wielding lackey nodded and ran back outside, where his friends were firing up at the silo.

  Coleman watched the redneck emerge from the barn, panic gripping him at the reasoning behind the enemy coming back out from killing the Captain. He took a deep breath to compose himself, focusing on the task at hand. He’d managed to blow up one enemy’s head, but his second bullet had gone askew, hitting a tractor tire instead.

  “Three guys and four shots, I got this,” he muttered to himself, aiming towards the barn redneck to fire. This forced him back inside, and then the Corporal aimed down at Ralph and his lackey, moving out of the way just quick enough to avoid their volley of bullets.

  As he readied his hunting rifle, he noticed movement in the cornfield, and scrambled over to get a closer look from the back of the silo. There were four distinct tracks in the tall plants, rushing towards them, about fifty yards out.

  “The cavalry has arrived,” he said with a grin, and then headed back to the front of the silo, taking quick aim towards Ralph and firing. He struck the tractor, but the attack caused his enemies to stay behind cover.

  Terrell got to his feet, wiping his hands against each other. “You should feel special,” he declared. “I usually don’t give two free lessons to the same person.”

  Andrew yelled and rushed the Captain, who countered with a leg kick that caught the large redneck in the left knee. As he fell forward, he latched onto Terrell’s leg, flopping him down onto the ground as well.

  As soon as the Captain hit the dirt, he rolled over and brought his elbow around into Andrew’s nose, shooting blood up into his airways. As the redneck coughed and sputtered on the ground, Terrell leapt back to his feet, waving at his opponent to get up.

  “Come on big fella, that ain’t all you got, is it?” he taunted, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  Andrew staggered up, giving a few sloppy punches that the Captain easily dodged. Terrell retaliated, his fist connecting with the redneck’s jaw a few times. On the fourth blow, Andrew grabbed his wrist and jerked him forward, head butting him in the face. The stunned soldier staggered backwards and the redneck went on the offensive, sending a few blows into Terrell’s midsection.

  The Captain leapt backwards, wiping blood from his face, and hocked a glob of blood to the dirt. Andrew grinned maniacally through his own bloody face, reaching over to grab a hay hook from a nearby post.

  “I’m not mad,” Terrell said playfully, “just disappointed.”

  Andrew sneered. “You about to be gutted, boy.”

  The Captain’s eyes darkened. “Lesson over,” he snarled, and cracked his neck before blocking Andrew’s lunge with the hook. He chopped the redneck in the throat with his free hand, and then dodged the desperate horizontal swing with the hook as Andrew tried to catch his breath. Terrell knuckled him in the face, and the redneck screamed with a backhand swing.

  The Captain caught his arm at the wrist and broke his elbow, catching the hook and delivering an uppercut with it. The hook pierced Andrew’s jaw, eliciting a gurgled scream as he fell to his knees in pain.

  Terrell kicked the redneck’s hands away and grabbed the handle of the hook, yanking it as hard as he could. The metal tore through the bottom half of his jaw, blood and teeth bouncing on the packed dirt floor. As his opponent shrieked in shock and pain, the Captain swung around and embedded the hook in the side of Andrew’s head.

  The screams ceased as the redneck hit the floor, and Terrell reclaimed his weapon. The last crack of Coleman’s rifle drew him to the barn door, and he looked out just in time to see zombies emerge from the corn field.

  Two zombies reached the lackey, biting into his neck and thigh as Ralph turned in panic, firing on the others swarming into the farm. Ralph turned and sprinted to the remaining redneck, who fired one more shot before the dull click of an empty chamber alerted him that they were likely fucked. Ralph rushed by his unarmed partner as the zombies that were in hot pursuit quickly closed the gap. He glanced back in time to see the creatures sinking their teeth into the redneck, leaving Ralph all alone.

  “Andrew!” Ralph screamed as he tore towards the barn. “Andrew!” As he breached the barn door, Terrell punched him right in the face, flinging him backwards onto the ground. The Captain stepped into the light and aimed his assault rifle at the redneck’s head.

  “You might want to throw your handgun away there, bubba,” he warned.

  The redneck hesitated, glancing with worry at the zombie finishing up with his friend and ambling towards him.

  Terrell shrugged. “They’ll get to you before me,” he said.

  Ralph panicked and tossed the gun away, putting up his hands. “Help me!” he cried.

  The Captain raised his rifle and smacked the zombie in the face. It fell hard and slid against the ground, falling limp with a busted skull. Ralph began to squirm away, but Terrell fired a warning shot that froze him.

  “You say right there,” he warned, and then lifted his radio. “Coleman, you good?”

  “Yeah, just gotta do some zombie cleanup,” the Corporal replied. He stood about eight steps up the silo stairwell, and whistled loudly. The rest of the feasting zombies rushed him, filing up the stairs one by one. Coleman easily dispatched them with his handgun, and then hopped to the ground.

  He walked over to the closest redneck corpse, and dispatched each of them to keep them from reanimating. “I’m clear, you good?” he asked into his radio.

  Terrell responded, “One more by the truck, if you don’t mind.”

  Coleman laughed. “Fine, I’ll clean up your mess, too.” He headed around the tractor to find the other body.

  Terrell cocked
his head at his captive and clucked his tongue at the wide-eyed man on the ground. “Ralph, Ralph, Ralph,” he began, “now I could have sworn that you gave me your word this morning that we would go our separate ways for the day. I mean, I have a pretty damn good memory, so you uh, you want to explain what you’re doing here?”

  “It wasn’t my choice,” the redneck stammered, face pale with fear.

  Terrell shook his head. “Man, passing the buck, now that’s a damn shame, Ralph.”

  “What’s a damn shame, Cap?” Coleman asked as he approached, firing a shot into the redneck corpse on the way.

  “Our boy Ralph here doesn’t want to take responsibility for his actions,” Terrell replied. “Says he was forced to break his promise to me and come after us.”

  Coleman raised an eyebrow. “I guess that begs the question… who’s your daddy, Ralph?”

  “The leader of our camp,” the redneck replied immediately. “We came back after our encounter this morning and were ordered to track you down. The orders were to bring back your heads or don’t come back at all.”

  “Well, hate to break it to you there, Ralph, but you’re going back empty handed, because you’re going to deliver a message for me,” Terrell said. “But before that, you’re going to have to answer some questions for me.”

  Ralph swallowed hard. “O… okay. What do you want to know?”

  The Captain leaned forward slightly. “For starters, how big is your camp?”

  “I don’t know,” the redneck replied, “there’s two hundred, two-fifty, maybe?”

  The soldiers shared a concerned look, and then Coleman pursed his lips. “How many are battle ready?” he asked.

  “This is the rural south,” Ralph said, voice trembling, “everybody over the age of twelve can shoot.”

  Terrell nodded. “Where’s the camp?”

  “About twenty miles north of Clinton,” the redneck waved his hand in the general direction. “But I wouldn’t recommend trying to find it. Our sharpshooters are a lot better than you.”

  Terrell took a deep breath. “You got anything else, Coleman?”

  “I think this sack of shit has told us every useful thing he knows,” the Corporal replied.

  “Ralph, ole buddy,” the Captain said, and knelt beside his quivering captive, “you’re gonna go back to your little camp, walk up to whoever is pulling the strings and tell them one simple thing. Clinton, North Carolina, is off limits. You guys can have free rein over anywhere else, but you stay away from that town. And, oh yeah, make sure everyone knows that if they cross our paths out in the wild, the only thing I want to see from them is a friendly wave. If we see anything else, well, just make sure you explain in vivid detail what took place here. You got all that?”

  Ralph nodded furiously. “Yes, sir, I’ll let everyone know.”

  “OK, let’s get him up,” Terrell said, and the soldiers bent over to help the man up. At the same time, the Captain slid a small tracking device under the man’s collar, and patted him on the shoulder as he stood on his feet.

  The redneck walked towards his truck, constantly glancing back over his shoulder in fear.

  “Wait, wait,” Terrell called, “I got one more question for you.”

  Ralph turned around sheepishly, fists clenched. “Yeah?”

  “You got a spare for your truck?”

  The redneck threw his hands up. “Yeah, I got one, but there’s not a fl-”

  Terrell cut him of by firing his sidearm at the front driver’s side tire. “All right, Coleman, let’s get their guns and get out of here. Can you handle the big rig?”

  “Not a problem, Cap,” Coleman replied.

  Terrell picked up the shotgun and Ralph’s handgun as the Corporal retrieved the other weapons. Once he’d reached the transport and started it up, the Captain hopped into his own truck, rolling down the window and stopping beside the seething redneck.

  “Don’t be a stranger now, Ralph,” he said with a grin.

  The redneck scowled. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Terrell simply winked at him, and led the big rig down the dirt driveway.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Frank sat alone in his makeshift office, looking over a report as steam rose from his much deserved cup of coffee. His eyes began to cross as he looked over the statistics of how many survivors still needed housing, the security situation, everything just began to merge into a jumbled mess in his head.

  He sighed, tossing the report aside, and took a sip of his hot brew.

  Bill stepped into the doorway and knocked on the frame gently. “Captain, is this a good time?”

  “Yeah, come on in,” Frank replied. “Just trying to wrap my head around the report you made up for me.”

  “I realize it’s a bit dense,” the older man admitted, “so if you have any questions…”

  “I’m sure I will,” the Captain replied, and took another sip of his coffee. “Oh, can I get you a cup? My assistant made a full pot, don’t want it to go to waste.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I could take a cup,” Bill agreed.

  Frank looked at the phone on his desk, and raised an eyebrow at all the buttons. He picked one and pushed it, but nothing happened. “I can lead assaults across a zombie infested city, but an intercom system stumps me.”

  “Try the button on the right,” Bill said gently.

  He did so, and there was a beep before a friendly female voice came through, “Oh, hi Captain. I was just about to buzz you.”

  “Everything okay, Annie?” Frank’s brow furrowed.

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “It’s John Teeter from D.C. would like to chat. He’s on secure channel six.”

  “Thanks Annie,” Frank said. “Oh, and can you please bring Bill a cup of coffee when you have a moment?”

  “Of course, Captain,” she replied.

  Frank stared at the phone for a moment, and then up at Bill. “Would you mind? I wouldn’t want to hang up on the boss.”

  The older man smiled, reached over, and hit a few buttons in sequence. “Hey John, you there?”

  “Hey Bill, I was trying to reach Captain Kyle,” John’s voice came through.

  Frank leaned forward. “I’m here too, John.”

  “Oh, perfect,” John replied. “How are you boys getting settled in at the stadium?”

  “Better than expected,” Bill said, and took a seat across from the Captain. “We’re slightly over capacity, but we’re ahead of schedule on the food growing.”

  “That’s fantastic to hear!” came the reply, and then there was a pause. “Now, I have a bit of difficult news. As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Fort Bragg was completely overrun.”

  “Yeah, we rescued Bennett and Foster, and they said as much,” Frank put in.

  “Well, after those two made their escape, Captain Graham and Corporal Coleman were able to secure a helicopter and lure the zombie horde away from the base,” John explained. “This allowed seventy-five men to get to safety. One of our ships just off the Wilmington coast was able to arrange transport for them.”

  Frank stiffened at the mention of his friend. “What about Graham and Coleman?”

  “Colonel Wagner informed us that they saw their helicopter flying west, but that’s the last anyone has heard from them,” John said slowly.

  Frank flopped back in his chair, scrubbing his hands down his face. He took a deep breath. “Well, I wouldn’t worry John, those two are tough sons of bitches so if anybody is out there surviving this, it’s going to be them.”

  “Nonetheless, we are keeping our ears open in case they try to make contact,” the man on the phone promised.

  The Captain nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “So, John, on this last outing, we ran into a bit of a complication,” Bill cut in.

  John made a noise of interest. “What’s that?”

  “There are survivors in the city,” Frank replied. “The group we ran into was ei
ght-five strong, and they aren’t the only groups left in the city. I had to strike a deal with them in order to get my people out safely. We are going to run some missions with them to help make sure they have enough food to get by.”

  “Good, good,” John said. “That’s what we need to be doing. There’s some debate up here about how much we should be doing for the civilians surviving on their own, but in my opinion we need to keep as many of them alive as we can. A group of us are formulating a plan to deliver supplies to some of these clusters of survivors, but we’re a couple weeks out at best from this happening. So my unofficial advice is to whatever you feel like you can do for them. Because the reality is there isn’t a fucking thing anybody up here is gonna be able to do to you if they disagree with the actions you are taking.”

  They shared a chuckle, and Bill nodded. “That is a valid point.”

  “Well, I’ve been known to make them from time to time,” John replied. “All right, I’ve gotta go deal with more bureaucratic bullshit. If y’all need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks John,” Frank replied.

  Bill nodded. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Frank ended the call, and Annie entered with a cup of coffee and the pot. “Sorry for the delay,” she said. “I didn’t want to interrupt the call.”

  They thanked her as she refilled the Captain’s cup and then vacated the office.

  Bill took a long sip and leaned back in his chair. “So, what’s next, Captain?” he asked.

  “I need you to do an inventory of our supplies and figure out what we can spare,” Frank instructed. “And see if you can find some people who know the city well. We need to know every single place we can potentially find food and other vital supplies.”

  “Consider it done, Captain,” Bill replied. “Anything else?”

  Frank considered for a moment before shaking his head. “I think that’s gonna do it for today.”

  “You’ve done a hell of a job, Captain,” Bill said as he stood. “You should be proud.”