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

by Derek Slaton

  Chad barked a laugh, causing the fallen cowboy to crack a smile. “Come on, let’s get him over by the wall,” he instructed as the smile turned into a coughing fit.

  Blood splattered Rex’s chin and chest, spraying even more across the snow. “Man, if y’all give me a few minutes, I can take a watch.”

  “It’s all good man, I think you’ve earned a break,” Chad replied.

  The fallen man groaned as they propped him up against the stairwell wall, under a little overhang so the snow wasn’t falling on his face. “Appreciate it,” he said.

  “Alan, Don, start seeing what you can see,” Chad instructed.

  The duo nodded in unison and split up, moving to opposite ends of the building. They took out their binoculars and took stock of the city’s situation.

  “All right,” Chad said quietly to Lowell, taking him aside, “I don’t know how Mister Eldon does it, but on my farm we have a rule. You fuck it up, you clean it up. And you see Rex over there? That’s your fuckup.”

  “Whoa now,” Lowell snapped, “you ain’t laying this at my feet.”

  Chad grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the door, eyes hard. “Listen you arrogant piece of shit,” he said, voice low and menacing. “You’re the one who decided to be a hot shot and drive fast. You’re the one who wrecked the car, and as a result, got your boy killed and Rex bitten. So you are going to man the fuck up and take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

  Lowell clenched his jaw, swallowed hard, and then nodded jerkily. “Okay,” he conceded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “He probably doesn’t have much time left,” Chad replied, letting go of the cowboy. “But that man has earned every single second. So you’re gonna watch over him, and when the time comes, you’re gonna put him down.”

  Lowell’s jaw dropped. “I…” he stammered, “I don’t know if I-”

  “Remember what I said to you back in the car?” Chad snarled. “Only difference is that now I’m gonna save the bullet by throwing your ass over the side. We clear?”

  He gulped. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  Chad nodded and pulled out his radio as the cowboy moved over to his fallen comrade. “Emily, come in.”

  “Gonna have to give me a minute,” came the crackly reply.

  He took a deep breath. “I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  8:04 AM

  “Okay, Odell, it’s going to be about three more blocks up on the left,” Emily instructed to the driver. “When you get to the intersection, I want you to stop so we can take stock of the situation.”

  The middle-aged dark-skinned man nodded his greying head. He drive slowly through the residential neighborhood, jaw tight at the sight of what looked like a war zone. Limbs stuck up through the snow, bloody tracks cutting paths between the houses. A lot of the doors were hanging open, some of them houses smoldering from fire.

  He slowed to a halt at the intersection, not wanting to jostle the six people huddled in the truck bed too much.

  Emily scanned the area with her binoculars. “Doesn’t look like a whole lot is going on,” she said. “Pull up around the back side of the building.”

  Odell drive to the large warehouse, a two-story tall building with lots of catwalks and no walls. The alleyway behind was still, fresh snow with no tracks. There was a good thirty yards on either side of the vehicle, and the entire crew hopped down, clustering around the warehouse door.

  Emily stood between the team and the door, raising her hands. “Okay, everybody listen up. I didn’t see any broken windows or doors on the approach, but that doesn’t mean the building is going to be clear. If someone with the sickness took refuge in there, we could have some runners.” She pointed to a short rotund farm worker in the group. “Ken, you’re my mechanic, right?”

  Ken nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, I need you to stay in the truck with Odell while we clear the place,” she instructed, and the driver waved him into the open passenger door.

  “Come on in, brother,” Odell said with a smile. “I got the heat blasting and a thermos of coffee.”

  Ken smiled and clambered up into the cab.

  “We need to split into two teams,” Emily continued. “I need one person with me to go up to the office and get the keys, and the rest are gonna clear the floor.”

  A large man in that looked to be in his mid-thirties stepped forward. He had a massive broad build, like he’d been throwing hay since he was in the womb.

  “I’ll come with you, ma’am,” he offered.

  Emily nodded. “Thank you…”

  “Irwin,” he finished.

  She smiled. “Irwin. Sorry, too many new people.”

  “It’s no problem, ma’am,” he assured her.

  “Okay, you four need to sweep the building,” Emily said. “There should be a line of plows in the middle, so you’re gonna have to watch every corner.”

  A slight cowboy that looked to be in his mid-twenties stepped forward. “Alex, Barry, Randall, I think we need to stick together,” he said. “Two covering the front, one covering the gaps in the plows, and one covering the rear. It may take a little longer, but gonna be safer.”

  “Good idea, Jay,” Randall replied, and the other two nodded in agreement.

  “I’d head to the right a little when you go in,” Emily instructed. “It’s a little shorter to the end, and there’s a fire escape door. So if you do get overwhelmed you have a way out.”

  Jay nodded. “Will do.”

  “So where are we going?” Irwin asked.

  Emily turned to him. “The main office is straight back of this door. There is a staircase that’ll take us up to it. It’s a big two room office, so be careful when clearing it.” She waited for his nod and then faced the door. “All right, let’s do this.”

  Everyone drew their weapons, except Barry who carried a bulky sawed-off shotgun.

  “Hey Jay, I’ll take the gaps,” he declared. “If anything is in there, this baby will take it out.” They lined up behind him, ready to flank Emily and Irwin going in first. Jay gave a quiet countdown and opened the door.

  The warehouse was cavernous, with at least a dozen snowplows lined up on both sides of the door. The lights were out, but there were enough skylights to provide natural light.

  Emily rushed in first, taking quick glances to either side as they reached the end of the plows. There were no sounds of movement, nor any physical evidence of any struggle. The duo quickly and quietly headed up the metal staircase, sweeping around with eyes and weapons as they went up the final few steps.

  The office had large glass panels overlooking the warehouse floor, and Emily reached out for the door handle.

  “Ma’am,” Irwin said quietly, “let me go in first.” He stepped closer and she nodded before flinging open the door.

  The large cowboy moved in, gun raised, sweeping the room quickly. She stepped in behind him, misjudging the door, and it slammed a lot louder than she meant it. The noise caused Irwin to whip around, leaving his back open for an overweight zombie to surprise him from behind.

  He turned just in time for the large zombie to crash into him, sending the two of them into a wooden desk with a loud crack. Emily stumbled backwards as the corpse sunk its teeth into the cowboy’s throat, hitting the floor hard. The zombie’s head snapped up to look at her, a chunk of flesh dropping out of its mouth with a wet smack. It screamed at her, and she fired once, hitting it right between the eyes.

  Her radio crackled. “Emily, come in,” Chad said.

  Her hands shook as she lifted the radio to her mouth. “Gonna have to give me a minute,” she replied.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he promised, and she clipped the radio back to her belt.

  She trained her gun on the fallen cowboy, shaking as his last breath left his lungs. As soon as his hand fell from clutching at his torn throat, she fired a shot into the top of his skull. Her knees threatened to buckle as she ins
pected the zombie she’d taken down. She kicked it to make sure it was gone, and realized there were no signs of it being bitten.

  Poor man, she thought, must have had the sickness and came here to live out his days. She moved around the office, sweeping the rest of it to make sure she was fully alone. She walked into the back office and found the key box on the wall open. There were two dozen sets of snowplow keys, and she grabbed the first four before hurrying out to the staircase.

  As she reached the first landing a lone shot rang out from the other side of the building, startling her. “Everybody okay?” she called.

  “Yeah, we’re good!” Jay yelled back. “Dumbass here got spooked by a raccoon.”

  She descended the rest of the stairs and met his team at the bottom.

  “Where’s Irwin?” Barry asked.

  Emily shook her head. “One of those things in the office got him.”

  They took a moment of silence before Jay took a deep breath. “So, what now?” he asked.

  “You three are with me,” she said, and handed out sets of keys. “We’re going to drive to the bridge. Mister shotgun here is going to stay here with Ken to make sure our mechanic is safe. And when you collect Ken, tell Odell to be ready to follow us to the bridge.”

  “All right, you heard the lady, let’s get a move on,” Jay declared, rolling his hand above his head.

  The cowboys broke formation and headed to the plows. Emily took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment and then straightened her shoulders. She pulled out her radio as she headed to her plow.

  “Chad, come in,” she said.

  It crackled, and then, “Go for Chad.”

  “We got the plows and are about to head out,” she said. “Our route to the bridge looking clear?”

  “Yeah, you should be good to go,” he replied, voice somber.

  Emily furrowed her brow as she got into the driver’s seat. “You doing okay?”

  “Just a hell of a morning,” he replied after a beat. “Get on the road and I’ll fill you in while you drive.”

  She nodded. “Ten-four.” She fired up the plow, satisfied with the loud growl of the engine, and lifted the CB radio to her mouth. “All right boys, let’s do this. Run number one.”

  She hit the garage door button clipped to the sun shade above her head, and the large door at the end of the building opened. She pulled out slowly, leading the caravan of plows out towards the bridge.

  CHAPTER NINE

  8:15 AM

  Myles held a sheet of metal against one of the vehicles while a few of his men bolted it in place, further securing the pedestrian walkways on the Main Avenue bridge. His radio crackled.

  “Myles, you ready to go?” Susanna’s voice came through.

  He whistled loudly to get his team together. “Yeah, Susanna, we’re ready to roll,” he replied into the mouthpiece.

  “We’ve picked up some stragglers, so rather than bringing them by the bridge, we’re just going to head up Ward Street,” she explained. “I’m already past y’all, so get loaded in and come on. Path should be pretty clear for you.”

  He paused, and then clicked the button. “You doing all right on ammo?”

  “Yeah, I got plenty of cartridges left,” she replied, and he didn’t miss the hint of affection in her tone. “Although, if you come across a shotgun I wouldn’t turn it down. Prefer buckshot so I can take out a few of them at the same time.”

  He grinned. “I’ll pick you out something nice.”

  “Always the sweetheart,” she said.

  “I’ll let you know when you can come by,” he promised.

  She clicked over and took a deep breath before saying, “Be safe.”

  “You too,” he replied, and clipped his radio back to his belt. He jumped up into the bed of the lead truck, and addressed his team. “Kolby, Duncan, you’re on me,” he said. “We hit the store hard and fast. You other three know your destinations.”

  The three drivers nodded and made noises in the affirmative, donning their seats in a series of slamming doors. Kolby, a mid-forties ex army veteran, clambered up into the truck bed. He was an old hand at the farm, and a little heavier than the rest, but his expertise in weapons was unmatched.

  Duncan followed, an early twenties dark haired man that looked like he was carved out of marble. He closed the tailgate behind him. The trio crouched as the trucks began to move, ready to pounce as soon as they stopped.

  The tires kicked up fresh powder, fishtailing a little on the slick bridge. Soon they were speeding down to Ward Street to make the turn towards the gun store. Myles’ jaw dropped in horror as they rolled past a small strip mall, all the front windows smashed in, half-eaten bodies littering the parking lot. There were numerous bullet holes in the smattering of cars left behind, and he shook his head at the evidence of so much death.

  The convoy pulled in behind the gun store, a large building taking up half of the block. The solid brick fortress loomed overhead, bars on the windows like a castle. The trio hopped out and rallied at the back door.

  Myles tried the knob but it was locked up tight. He nodded to Kolby, who opened the back door of the extended cab to grab his blowtorch. He clicked it a few times, and got a bright flame flowing. He stepped forward and in a matter of seconds, he burned through the lock, freeing it from the door. He turned off the torch and set it down, drawing his handgun.

  “Quick but thorough sweep,” Myles instructed. “Call out what you see.”

  They nodded in agreement and he threw the door open, leading the charge inside. The store was a super center of weaponry. There were five aisles lining the entire length of the store, broken up by two cross gaps. The front had a massive glass display wall full of heavy duty weaponry, the kinds that every gun fan dreamed of but never had the scratch to drop on it.

  Myles headed straight ahead through the gap in the aisle, looking up and down to check for enemies. “Aisle two, clear,” he whispered.

  Kolby and Duncan flanked him closely, each aiming down one side of the aisle as he moved forward. Myles stopped at three, and saw two zombies to the ride. He raised a hand to his team, signaling two, and they nodded.

  Duncan and Myles leaned into the aisleway, each aiming at a zombie head, Kolby covering them from the back in case of unwanted attention. They fired simultaneously, one zombie going down and the other taking a bullet in the neck. The latter screamed and rushed them, meeting a hailstorm of bullets from the startled duo. It finally dropped, but the silence that followed was broken by a moan from the front of the store.

  The trio turned to see a gigantic zombie in survivalist gear stomp around the end of the aisle to face them. The only blood on him dribbled from his mouth, proof that he’d been a sick man who’d tried to prepare as best he could.

  Myles took a knee as they opened fire, the zombie sprinting towards them with surprising speed for its size. It reached him first, and he shoved against its chest so that Duncan could fire point blank. The impact sent the creature flopping backwards, spraying Myles in an impressive splatter of blood and brain matter.

  They froze stock still, straining their ears in the empty store, waiting for any sign of more corpses. After a few beats, they relaxed, and Myles stood up, picking chunks of flesh from his hair.

  “Ah, sorry about that, man,” Duncan said thinly.

  His companion laughed, tossing a piece of brain to the tiles with a wet smack. “Well, at least you didn’t miss him with that last shot.” They shared a chuckle and he clapped both men on their shoulders. “Come on, let’s get the trucks loaded up. Ammo and semi-auto first. They are good on hunting rifles, but they’ll need something to take on multiple zombies if they draw too much attention.”

  “What about basic gear?” Kolby asked. “Lights, night vision, stuff like that?”

  “Save it for the second load,” Myles replied. “This trip is all about defense, we can stock up on other essentials while they’re gone.”

  They rushed through the aisles, gra
bbing every bit of ammo, magazines, and heavy duty assault rifles as they could carry and ferrying it back to the trucks. The drivers stood guard, making sure that the noise from inside hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention.

  One by one, the trucks headed off towards the bridges full of gear, and as the last one sped off, Myles shut the back door and secured it with a metal bar. He looked around and noticed a heavy looking display for camping supplies.

  “Duncan, give me a hand with this,” he said, and the strong farm hand grunted as they shoved the heavy display against the door.

  “Well, now that we’re snug and secure, where you want to get the stash set up?” Kolby asked.

  Myles pointed up. “Let’s pull stuff to the roof,” he said. “I know it’s gonna be a bitch, but we have to assume the next time they, or anybody come this way that they’re going to be bringing company.”

  “All right, I’ll start staging stuff by the ladder to the roof,” Kolby replied. “Pretty sure I saw some rope ladders in the next aisle. Might come in useful.”

  Myles nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s get to it, and I’ll call in the progress.” He walked over to the glass counter and pulled out his radio, checking out the shotguns on display.

  “Susanna, you copy?” he asked. While he waited for her to come back, he grinned at the sight of a hot pink shotgun on the rack. He picked it up, and shook his head, knowing that if he gave it to her she’d shoot him with it.

  “You make it to the gun store okay?” Susanna came in.

  He raised the radio back to his lips. “Yep, and the first load is on the way to the bridges. You wanna come by and pick up your new toy?”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” she replied. “We’re south of the Capitol building, so should be there in about ten minutes or so.”

  “I will be on the roof,” he said. “Be safe.” He clipped his radio back to his belt and then his eyes lit up at the sight of the perfect gun. “Oh yeah, that’s the one.”

  Minutes later, he stood on the edge of the roof, finding the lazily falling snow almost peaceful. A few zombies staggered out of the alleyway across the street, ruining the feeling, slipping and staggering on the slippery surface. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, imagining a slapstick silent-movie type of jingle as the zombies struggled to stay on their feet.