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

by Derek Slaton

  “Richard Boone was Paladin on Have Gun Will Travel,” Ernest replied, voice completely level and calm as he joined the group. “The man who made this gun famous was Chuck Connors in The Rifleman. If you’re going to attempt to insult me, at least get the name right.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Richard Boone, Chuck Connors, don’t matter, you’re still a pussy for using a twenty-two,” Glenn replied, waving him off. “Now see, you need to man up and get you one of these.” He slung his gun from his back and took aim. “Remington bolt action hunting rifle. Watch what this baby does.” He squeezed the trigger, releasing a thunderous clap that resulted in a zombie head exploding in a display of crimson. “Whoo! That was awesome. That’s what a man’s gun can do. Let’s see your pussy twenty-two do that!”

  “That is an impressive weapon,” Ernest said. “How many rounds does it hold?”

  Glenn puffed his chest out. “Got a capacity of four.”

  “I will say, that was a hell of a display there,” the city native admitted. “I was wondering if you could show me that one more time. Oh, and could you reload it too?”

  The farm hand narrowed his eyes in suspicion, taking in Ernest’s calm and innocent expression. “All right city boy, I’ll show you one more time.” He removed two rounds from his gun, and Ernest stepped closer to Susanna and tapped the watch on her wrist.

  “That’s really nice,” he said with a smile. “Does it happen to have a stopwatch on it?”

  She raised her wrist to look at it. “Yeah, I believe it does.”

  “Would you be so kind as to tally how long it takes our friend here to shoot and reload?” Ernest asked sweetly.

  She raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused smile, nodding in agreement and setting her watch.

  “All right, city boy, watch close,” Glenn warned. He aimed, and fired, taking off another zombie head. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of rounds, rapidly putting them one by one into the gun before slamming the bolt back into position.

  “And time,” Ernest declared.

  Glenn furrowed his brow in confusion as he turned to look at them. “And what?”

  “It took you eight and a half seconds to fire that last round and reload,” Susanna replied.

  “Hell, that’s pretty good if you ask me,” the farm hand said with a haughty look. “Especially out here in the snow.”

  “And if we were hunting game or shooting bottles on a fence, I’d agree with you,” Ernest agreed, his voice still the same level calm as when he’d gotten out of the truck. “But, as you said back at the house, we’re at war.” He stepped up beside the farm hand and raised his rifle. “Susanna, would you be so kind as to time my next four shots?”

  She chuckled and shook her head, raising her wrist. “You got it, Ernest.”

  He took a deep breath before raising his rifle and rattling off his shots. One right between the eyes, then a quick throw of the lever to chamber a new round, rinse and repeat. With each impact, the ghouls fell limp, their heads not exploding but the bullets finding their mark.

  After four quick shots, Susanna declared, “Two point eight seconds.”

  “Well, it seems to me, hillbilly, that my twenty-two did the trick,” Ernest shifted his weight to his left hip, cocking his head in amusement. “Four kills in a third of the time it took you to shoot and reload. And while my kills weren’t nearly as impressive as yours, I didn’t spray infected blood all over the place. I still have seventeen rounds loaded up as well, so I can keep on killing. My ammo is also lighter, readily available in just about every store, and thanks to attitudes like yours will be easy to find since it’s not manly enough for you types. Now, you have anything else to say other than to offer an apology to the late great Chuck motherfucking Connors for demeaning his weapon of choice?”

  Glenn shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line, cheeks red with embarrassment. Susanna slowly raised her hand.

  Ernest smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Okay, I’ve got a question,” she said. “Where in the world did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “When I got back from my first trip five years ago, I wanted to learn how to shoot,” Ernest replied. “Turns out those bigger rifles hurt my shoulder too much, so I needed to drop down in caliber. The shooting range I went to would play old westerns to set the mood. They had an episode of The Rifleman playing so I gave a repeater a chance and loved it. Had them make me up a custom one like from the show, since I knew it was my weapon of choice.”

  His four companions stared at him blankly and he sighed.

  “Yes, I’m fully aware that I have way too much disposable income that I can have a custom bright silver repeater built,” he admitted. “But given what you just saw, aren’t you kind of glad I did?”

  Glenn approached him and put a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “All right, city boy, you got me,” he said with a grin. “But after we get through this, I’m gonna show you how to shoot a man’s gun. Cause you can pull that off at twenty yards, but you ain’t gonna be able to do much from a hundred.”

  Ernest laughed. “You got a deal, hillbilly.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mr. Wainwright patted his wife on the shoulder as she and Kristin handed out beverages to the several dozen men and women piled into the house. He headed to the center of the living room and raised his hands as the murmurs grew in volume.

  “Everybody quiet down now,” he directed. “I know y’all have questions, and they will be answered shortly. Your boss, Mr. Eldon and I have some things we need to hash out before we can get this show on the road. In the meantime, while y’all are sipping your coffee and making small talk, get broken up into groups of four or five. I’ll consider it a personal favor.”

  He turned and headed to the dining room, leaving the throng of rugged men and women in cowboy gear to organize themselves. He shut the door, giving privacy to the group huddled around the map on the table.

  “Man, that is one wild bunch out there,” Mr. Wainwright said.

  Ernest looked up at him. “Hopefully they’re like the Wild Bunch cause we got a lot of things that need killing.”

  “Come on Wainwright, let’s have it,” Mr. Eldon urged, rolling his hand in a motion for him to start talking. “What’s your big plan?”

  “Emily, it’s your idea,” the man of the house said gently. “Lay it out for the man.”

  She pointed at the map. “There are three bridges that cross the Missouri,” she began. “From north to south they are the I-94, Main Avenue, and the one ninety-four. We’re going to need a team stationed at each bridge to make sure the path is clear for us to we can set up the snowplows. They’re also going to need to secure the barricades once they have been delivered.”

  “What do you mean secure them?” Ernest cut in. “They should be heavy enough to be secure on their own, right?”

  “They aren’t a perfect fit,” Mr. Wainwright piped up, “meaning we need men in on the bridge to plug the holes between them. We got plenty of sheet metal and bolts that will be reinforced with any cars that are on the bridge. Not going to be perfect, but going to be damned difficult for a group of them to bust through.”

  Mr. Eldon leaned forward. “So, where are these snowplows?” he asked.

  “There’s a huge storage facility on the east part of the city by Lions park,” Emily replied. “The building itself isn’t difficult to get in, but with the streets being flooded with those things, we had to think outside the box.”

  “Which is where I come in.” Susanna raised a hand. “I’m going to be leading the decoy team. We’re going to be the first in, draw their attention, and lure as many of them to I-94 east as we can. We aren’t going to be able to get all of them, but hopefully we can clear a path for everyone.”

  Glenn crossed his arms. “So, you’re just going to have hundreds of those things just latched onto the truck? You ain’t gonna have enough ammo to fend them off.”

  She reached under the table and grabbed
a long metal rod with a trigger on the end. She tossed it down on the table in front of him.

  “A cattle stunner?” he asked. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Each one of these canisters delivers a blow powerful enough to penetrate a cow skull and put it out,” she replied, holding up a Co2 cartridge. “So while I have my doubts it’s strong enough to penetrate your thick skull, the average human isn’t going to be a match for it.”

  “Well that may work all good for you,” Glenn shot back, face reddening a bit with the insult. “But what about the rest of us? We’re not exactly swimming in ammo.”

  “There’s a gun store a few blocks northwest of the capitol building,” Emily said. “We’re going to have a team take it over and runners bringing ammo to the bridge teams.”

  “I can lead that team,” Myles piped up. “I’m familiar with the store so I can get us in and out.”

  Emily nodded. “Make sure you got a good driver who knows the city. Chances are they’re going to have to take more than a few detours.”

  Glenn let out a deep breath. “Well, damn girl, looks like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “If you think that now, just imagine how you’ll feel when I finish,” she replied, giving him a wink, and he blushed, giving her a nod to continue. “There are going to be two more teams. The first is going to get to the roof of the Capitol building. It’s the tallest in the city and will provide a pretty good view of the area. From that vantage point, they’ll be able to direct traffic, call out hordes, and be able to let us know if we’re about to hit trouble. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.”

  Chad raised his hand. “I’ll lead that team. It’s going to be a haul getting up those stairs.”

  “Just make sure you pick a team that can keep up with you,” Mr. Wainwright warned.

  His son nodded. “I’ll handle it, Pop.”

  “And the other team?” Ernest asked.

  “They’re going to be on rescue duty,” Emily replied. “The city may mostly be dead, but there are bound to be survivors. We gotta pull them out and get them to safety.”

  “Hang on now,” Mr. Eldon said loudly, putting both of his hands on the table. “We’re already starting to ration our supplies. If we start taking in more people, we might find ourselves with not enough to go around.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Mister Eldon,” Emily began, her voice level as she eyed him. “You have a pretty substantial farming operation to go along with your Dude Ranch, is that correct?”

  “Yes ma’am,” the older man preened a bit under the praise. “Outside of Wainwright here, I have the largest operation in the area.”

  “So, for planting and harvest season you bring in what, a couple hundred seasonal workers?” Emily asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How many of them you think are going to show up this year?” She raised an eyebrow, and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

  He closed his eyes and nodded slowly as the realization sunk in. “I’m sure between our farms we can scrounge up enough food to get us through the winter.”

  “I thought that might be the case,” Emily replied, satisfied.

  Zach raised his hand. “I’ll head up that team. There are some shopping areas in the south of the city that would be a good place to start. Couldn’t hurt to check for a few supplies as well.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Emily agreed. “But people are the priority. We can always scavenge for supplies later.”

  “And that’s the plan in a nutshell,” Mr. Wainwright spoke up. “We’re going to hit the center bridge first thing, since it’s the direct pipeline to the city and decide from there based on the ground conditions. Anybody have any questions?”

  “Just one,” Ernest said. “If we block off the bridge, won’t they just come across the ice when the river freezes over?”

  “Hasn’t gotten cold enough in years for it to freeze to the point where people can walk across it,” Mr. Wainwright explained, shaking his head. “That said, once we get the bridges secure, we’re going to have patrols go through there to make sure we don’t get stragglers.”

  “Good enough for me,” Ernest agreed, and clapped his hands together.” So when do we get started?”

  “First light,” Emily replied. “Don’t know if this snowstorm is going to stick around or not, so we have to assume our weather advantage is going to leave sooner rather than later.”

  Ernest smiled. “Lucky for me I always wanted to see the sun rise over Bismarck.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  7:33 AM

  “Come in, Mister Eldon,” Emily said into her radio as she watched the fat snowflakes fall heavily on the city streets through her binoculars. The clearing they stood in was relatively safe, but there were dozens of zombies visible across the Main Avenue bridge, flanked by easily a hundred staggering corpses.

  There was a crackle as the older man came back. “Eldon here.”

  “How is the I-94 bridge looking?” she asked.

  “Half dozen at most on the bridge, and not a whole lot else,” he replied. “Won’t be a problem to take them out and get set up.”

  She nodded. “Just make sure you do it quietly,” she reminded him.

  “Ten-four,” came the reply.

  “Glenn,” Emily continued into the radio, “how’s the one ninety-four looking?”

  “It’s a clusterfuck with a capital C F,” Glenn responded immediately. “Probably thirty of those things on the bridge.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking hard. “Can you see anything on the other side of the river that you might be able to use as a distraction?” she asked.

  “Hang on,” came the reply.

  Emily turned to Susanna at her side. “If they can’t find anything, you may have to swing by there after clearing the gun store route.”

  “We don’t need an escort, Miss Walker,” Myles replied, voice level.

  “I appreciate the thought Myles, but your team is the lynchpin of this operation,” Emily explained. “If we don’t have the ammo, we aren’t going to be able to hold down the bridges. I’d rather delay taking the one ninety-four than risk you guys.”

  “All right it’s your call,” Myles agreed. “My offer stands though,” he added.

  She nodded. “Noted.”

  A gunshot cracked in the distance, followed by the loud bleating of a car alarm.

  Emily raised the radio to her lips again. “Guessing you found something there, Glenn?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “We’ll get this thing secure for you.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she said to him, and then clipped the radio back to her belt. “All right, Susanna, you’re up. Head up Washington then cut across on East Boulevard. Just keep on State til you hit I-94.”

  “What about the path to the snowplow warehouse?” Susanna asked.

  “It’s only a few more blocks and it’s mostly residential once you get past the capitol building,” the older woman explained. “If there’s too much heat we’ll just circle the block to buy us some room.”

  “All right, you’re the boss,” the younger woman replied, and gave her a little salute.

  “Chad’s team will be ninety seconds behind you, and I’ll be right behind them,” Emily assured her. “Zach, if you want to follow us in now, you can.”

  “Go ahead Zack, we gotta stay back anyway so we can help your dad secure the bridge,” Myles said.

  Mr. Wainwright shifted his weight with a playful smile. “Just as a point of order, we don’t really need the help. But we ain’t gonna turn it down.”

  A chuckle rippled through the group before Emily declared, “We’re burning daylight, so let’s get to it.”

  Susanna clambered up into the truck bed, and then smacked the roof of the cab when she got into position. “Let’s get a move on, slow and steady,” she called. “And make sure the plow is dragging, we want as much noise as we can get!”

  A hand e
merged from the driver’s side window, giving a thumbs-up. The driver fired up the truck and headed towards the bridge, the plow attachment on the front scraping against the pavement. It sent an ear-splitting screech through the cold air, an occasional spark brightening up the dim morning.

  Emily headed over to Chad and his five burly team members, dressed in their insulated farm hand outfits. They looked like a pack of denim bears with knit caps.

  “Chad, you got everything you need?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, we got ammo and rations.”

  “Binoculars?”

  “Four sets, one for every direction,” he confirmed.

  She put a hand on his arm. “How do you feel about your team?”

  “I don’t even know these boy’s names,” Chad admitted, “but I’m taking Glenn at his word that these are the best he has.”

  Mr. Wainwright peered through his binoculars. “Thirty seconds.”

  “Looks like I’m about to find out,” Chad said, and exchanged a good-natured fist bump with Emily before they retreated to their respective vehicles. The six farm boys bustled into a large rugged SUV, Emily’s team jumping up into the bed of a truck.

  Susanna watched the plethora of corpses moving behind her. Most of them were moving pretty slow, but a few looked like they might have died more recently and were still warm enough to move faster than the others.

  The driver slowed approaching Washington Street, not wanting to risk spinning out on the icy roads.

  “Turn coming up in about ten seconds,” he yelled out his window.

  Susanna braced herself. “Just don’t fuck it up, cowboy!” she barked back.

  Two of the faster moving zombies managed to grab on to the tailgate, and she fell into a crouch, loading a co2 cartridge into her weapon.

  “Really hoping I’m right about this,” she muttered under her breath as she extended the four foot long metal shaft.

  She pressed it into one zombie’s forehead, and pressed the trigger. The force of the blast caved in the corpse’s forehead, and it fell limp and flopped down into the snow.