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

by Derek Slaton

The bigger man raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to the main floor, eyeing up the wiry stoner. “And you’re in fighting shape?” he teased.

  “Hey, I work out,” Calvin replied, flexing lean muscles in his bicep. “Besides, facing off against zombies are more about determination than strength.”

  Zion shrugged. “You’re probably right about that. But strength sure helps.”

  “I like having you watching my back, dude,” the shorter man declared.

  Zion grinned. “Remember that if you ever think about hitting on my sister.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The duo stopped into the armory on the way outside, which was the repurposed security office. When the apocalypse had hit, they’d gathered every weapon they could find in the entire building and put it in here, then added to it as they went on scavenging runs.

  “What can I get for you boys?” the older gentleman attending the armory asked as they walked in.

  “I’ll take one of them hunting rifles, please,” Calvin said politely, pointing at the one he wanted on the wall. “Grew up shooting game with my pops,” he said to Zion. “Growing up in the country and all.”

  “Ah, is that where the weed plants came from, then?” The bigger man raised an eyebrow. “Learn to grow ‘em on the farm?”

  Calvin laughed. “Yeah, actually. Family business. Growing is better out there, but selling was definitely better in town.”

  “Too bad you had to tear down the family business to grow food instead,” Zion said.

  His wiry companion shrugged. “Gotta do what we gotta do in the apocalypse, dude.”

  The older gentleman manning the armory slid a handgun across the desk he stood behind, and Zion pursed his lips with distaste. “A black man comes in here and you just assume he’s good with a handgun, huh?” he asked, and then slid the gun back. “I prefer a more hands-on approach.” He walked around the desk and took an aluminum bat off of the wall, along with an ornate-looking dagger. It had definitely been someone’s show piece, and he checked it to make sure that it wasn’t a cheap replica. It was plenty sharp, and he sheathed it on his belt.

  “A bat and a knife, huh?” Calvin mused as they wandered to the stairwell again to head down to the parking garage.

  Zion nodded. “Neither of them run out of ammo,” he explained. “And they’re only loud if I want ‘em to be.”

  They exited the stairs into the expansive parking garage, where three men stood around two large black vans. Brent whirled around to face the pair, crossing his gigantic arms. He squared his shoulders and looked distastefully at Zion.

  “What took you two so long?” he demanded, nostrils flaring.

  Zion scoffed, and turned on his heel, heading back towards the stairs.

  “Brent, man,” Calvin said, rolling his eyes. Brent took a deep breath and jogged forward.

  “Z, wait,” he called, and his opponent stopped, but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, man, just come on, will you?”

  Zion turned and faced him, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, and didn’t move. “Calvin was telling me on the way down that you don’t have a lot of able-bodied people to help with this shit,” he said. “And I was up all night guarding the perimeter so you fucks could get your beauty sleep. You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you,” Brent muttered, and waved him forward. “Come on, now, please?”

  They rejoined the group and Calvin shook his head at Zion, who simply shrugged. He wasn’t about to take any shit from Brent, when he was the one doing him a favor.

  “Cory and I will take the second van,” Jerry, the biggest hulk of them all, motioned behind him. Having been a personal trainer before the apocalypse, he was definitely a good guy to have around. Cory was only slightly smaller, being his best friend and coworker at the gym.

  Brent nodded and headed for the lead van, Zion and Calvin skirting to the passenger’s side. Calvin opened the passenger door with a flourish.

  “After you,” he declared dramatically.

  Zion shook his head and climbed up into the seat, jerking the door shut right out of Calvin’s hand. He clambered into the middle seat in the back, leaning his gun so that it was accessible as he reached over to slide the door shut.

  Brent started the vehicle, a somber expression on his face. Zion studied him, and not for the first time. The ex-football player had quite the alpha personality, and as soon as shit had hit the fan he’d taken charge of the motley crew of apartment-dwellers. It suited most people, but occasionally he could be a bit of a power-tripping brat, and it was up to men like Zion to put him in his place.

  He tucked his bat between his legs, reclining his seat a bit to get comfy for their ride.

  CHAPTER THREE

  There were only a few straggler zombies that Calvin took out easily from the windows of the vehicle on the way down the long driveway. Not many made it this far, sticking mostly to the city, which was why their complex was a great place to hide out. With the forest too it was difficult for zombies to become hordes as they were too stupid to be able to push through the trees, opting to fall and stagger around instead.

  When they crested the tree line, Zion surveyed the pillars of smoke rising from the city proper. Calvin leaned forward from the backseat.

  “Looks like the smoke isn’t as bad as it was after all that rain we got,” he mused.

  It had definitely lessened. Zion wasn’t sure if that were necessarily a good thing, considering the fires likely took care of a decent amount of zombies. Bright lights also seemed to attract them, and keeping the corpses in the city and away from them was a definite plus. However, for survivors… spreading fire could mean even more trouble for those that were stuck down there.

  “The fuckers are slowing down, too,” Brent said. “I don’t know if it’s the cold or if they’re rotting, but it’s getting easier to take them out.”

  “Still need to be careful,” Zion replied gruffly. “If it is that they’re just rotting, then any fresh ones will still be fast and strong.”

  Calvin shivered. “Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense why they’re so strong. They’re fuckin’ dead.”

  Zion pursed his lips. Sometimes it was better not to worry about the why behind things one couldn’t change.

  “So what’s the plan today?” he asked, not bothering to turn to Brent.

  The driver nodded in his periphery. “There’s a big strip mall about ten miles north of the city,” he began. “It’s got a hardware store and a big superstore, as well as a few fast food chains. Tools, supplies, and food. Hopefully.

  “Zombie population should be low, considering that it’s not right in the city, so we should be able to just get in and out, easy peasy.”

  Zion stifled a snort. Nothing was ever ‘easy peasy’, but he didn’t feel like arguing.

  There were cars strewn everywhere along the side of the road, some with zombies stuck inside. Families that had been mortally hurt in accidents and left to turn into the undead with their seat belts still on. Banging at the windows with rotting hands and scraping teeth, desperate to get out and eat something warm and living.

  The devastation was real. It was easy to forget what it was really like out here in the peacefulness of the apartment complex, which Zion knew was a good thing. That’s what he wanted for the residents there, for his sister. To just live without worry while the able-bodied people came out into this carnage to provide for them. The less the others had to experience this insanity, the better.

  Stores just off the interstate burned, cars smashed into the fronts of them, zombies peppering the landscape and staggering about. These stores had clearly already been looted, or at least what was left of them. It wasn’t even worth checking with the shape they were in.

  Brent exited the highway, onto a thin street that led to the strip mall. His mouth set into a grim line as he took in the smashed front doors of both the hardware store and the super-center.

  “That doesn’t look very promising,” Calvin piped up, echoin
g everyone’s thoughts.

  Brent cut the engine and checked his weapons. “Well, we’re here, so we might as well check it out,” he declared, and opened the driver’s side door, sweeping his eyes around for any company as Jerry and Cory turned off their van as well.

  They grouped in front of the lead vehicle.

  “This looks like a waste of time,” Jerry spoke up, sounding defeated.

  Brent shook his head. “Only a waste of an opportunity if we don’t use it,” he said. “We’re already here. Since it’ll be an easy sweep, we’ll split into two teams. Zion, you’re with me in the hardware store, Jerry and Cory, you take the super-center.

  “Calvin,” he turned to the wiry younger man, “you climb up on top of the van and keep watch. Don’t fire that rifle unless it’s an emergency, we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Calvin replied with a sloppy salute, and tossed his rifle up onto the roof of the van before clambering up himself. He laid down on his stomach, peering around, and the two sets of two broke off towards their respective stores.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jerry stepped through what was left of the busted glass door of the superstore, shaking his head at the carnage inside. “We’re not going to find shit,” he said with a sigh as he waited for Cory to duck in after him. “This place is a mess.”

  “I miss the good ol’ days,” his friend replied with wistfulness in his voice. “When all we had to worry about was not oversleeping to open the gym.”

  Jerry nodded as they began to move up one of the aisles. “And whether or not we were overbooking.”

  “And how to get more hot girls to buy gym memberships.” Cory smirked. “Remember Danielle?”

  The ex-trainer scoffed. “Of course I remember Danielle,” he replied. “How could anyone forget Danielle?”

  “I hope you ain’t mad, but I gave her a free membership,” his friend said with a grin.

  Jerry chuckled, bumping him with his elbow. “No hard feelings, I gave her a lot more than that,” he said.

  Two zombies staggered around the end of a shelf housing a few random canned goods and not much else, and Cory darted forward to stab the corpses in the head.

  “This isn’t going to make much of a difference.” Jerry sighed, lifting up one of the cans of tomato sauce.

  Cory shrugged. “Might as well bag it anyway. The girls can work magic with whatever we bring back, you know that.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right,” his friend agreed. They bagged up the few cans on the empty shelves and continued on their way. “Might as well check out the back, see if there’s anything left in the storage area.”

  As they came out the other end of the aisle they were in, they froze at the sound of quick footsteps. That was definitely more deliberate and much faster than a zombie. They both drew their guns, quietly stalking after the noise, until they came to the open door of the employee break room.

  Jerry gave a silent countdown and then they both burst inside, guns aimed.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” a man screamed. He was dressed in military fatigues, but cowered in the corner with his hands in the air.

  “Who are you?” Jerry barked, eyes hard and distrustful even as Cory lowered his weapon.

  “Please,” the man begged.

  Cory shook his head. “We’re not going to shoot you man, but we need to be careful, okay? You know how it is these days,” he said gently. “What are you doing here by yourself? Did you go AWOL?”

  The man drew in a deep ragged breath. “P-please, just bring me back to your camp with you. Please help me.”

  Jerry clenched his jaw. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t know.” Cory shrugged at his best friend. “But we can’t leave him here. Let’s bring him to Brent and see what he says.”

  The ex-trainer took a step back, but didn’t stop aiming his gun. “All right, get up. We’re taking you outside.”

  ***

  “-and that’s when we took state for the first time,” Brent was saying as they loaded up a flatbed cart with glass panels and greenhouse lights. Zion tried not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t really interested in Brent’s glory days on the football field, but they didn’t really have anything to talk about. It was easier to let the leader chatter away and give a grunt here or there to let him know he was still semi-listening.

  Speaking of grunts, two corpses made nearly the same noises as him as they rounded the corner at the end of the aisle. Zion, happy for the distraction, grabbed his baseball bat and easily bashed their brains in, leaving little pops of crimson on the white store wall.

  “So what’s your story, man?” Brent asked as his companion joined him again. “I’ve heard rumors you were a gang member in California.”

  Zion didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said gruffly, pulling down another box of lights.

  “Look, I’m just saying, some of our residents are nervous,” his companion said, his voice in that political tone he liked to hold while he felt he was being a diplomat.

  Zion growled. “And what would you do if it were true, huh?” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “Confine me to a room? Kick me out?” More grunts, and he turned and headed purposefully to the group of zombies that had been attracted to their noise. It took less than ten seconds to dispatch them all by crushing their skulls, and he turned back to Brent, blood splattered across his shirt. “Or would y’all realize that it’s a good thing?”

  The leader took in a breath, seeming to choose his words carefully. But before he could reply, a gunshot sounded from outside. They shelved their argument and each grabbed one of the overloaded carts, pushing them quickly down the aisles to outside.

  As they shoved open the front doors, they didn’t see much going on. There were no zombies, just Jerry and Cory standing in front of a guy sitting on the ground in military fatigues. They pushed the carts to the van and left them there to assess the situation.

  “What’s going on?” Brent asked.

  Calvin stood on top of the van, waving his gun around, eyes wide. “I saw a scope in the woods! This guy is a fuckin’ spy!”

  “Hey, calm down,” the leader said, using that diplomat voice again.

  “I’m not going to calm down, we need to put this guy back where he came from and get the fuck outta here,” Calvin insisted.

  Brent’s brow furrowed. “And where did you come from?” he asked.

  “He wouldn’t tell us, either,” Cory said after it was apparent the guy wasn’t going to answer. “He just begged us to take him with us back to wherever we live.”

  “We should leave him,” Zion said firmly. His gut churned at the sight of the guy on the ground, and though he was immune to Calvin’s panic there was something very wrong about this situation.

  “No,” Brent replied, surprising all of them when he shook his head. “We could use a military guy. We need more manpower to defend the complex.”

  Zion raised an eyebrow. The guy didn’t look like he had very much manpower left in him. “Even a coward who abandoned his duty?”

  “We don’t know if he did that,” Brent replied, steel in his eyes as if he were challenging Zion to continue arguing with him. “His unit might have just been overrun. He could be dealing with some traumatic stuff.”

  “Then he’ll just be a liability,” Jerry spoke up. “We don’t need more people to babysit.”

  “What did you find in the superstore?” Brent changed the subject abruptly.

  Cory held up the mostly empty bag of canned goods. “Not much.”

  “Okay, you two go check out the burger joint over there and then we’ll head out,” the leader instructed.

  The two slunk away, not happy with their dismissal but not wanting to argue. They had a feeling that Zion would argue just fine for them while they were scavenging.

  “We need to leave him behind,” Calvin said again as he slid down the windshield and hit the asphalt hard on h
is feet. “I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all.”

  “You don’t have to like it,” Brent snapped. “All you have to do is follow orders. And I say he comes with us.”

  Zion clenched a fist. “Something is off about him. I don’t like it.”

  “Look, we can’t just do things based on gut feelings,” Brent began, that diplomatic drone creeping into his tone once again. “I have a responsibility to our people, and it’s not easy to be the one who has to make the tough decisions. But somebody has to do that, and that somebody is me. I know what’s best for the complex, and what’s best is to have the best defense to keep our people safe. I need to-”

  Zion did roll his eyes this time with a scoff. “Listen, you condescending-”

  “Hey!” Jerry called as he and Cory approached, hauling a large keg of beer between the two of them. “No food, but it wasn’t a total loss!” He grinned.

  Brent shook his head. “No, we’re not lugging that thing around.”

  Zion narrowed his eyes. “A real leader would understand the importance of a happy populace.” Slight sarcasm laced his tone, and the two stared at each other for a beat before Brent waved his hand.

  “Fine, load up the keg,” he relented. “And our new friend.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brent led the vans to the front doors of the apartment complex instead of the underground lot, so that it would be easier to load up the supplies to where they needed to go. Everyone bustled out, and Calvin pulled Zion around to the front of the van out of earshot of the others.

  “I’m heading in to prep another apartment,” he said, quietly as if it were some big conspiracy.

  Zion nodded, and as soon as he left he headed to the back of the van where their new friend, whose name turned out to be Benny, stood nervously. A few guys came out of the front to help unload the supplies, and Brent pulled Benny out of the way.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” he said, not unkindly, and led him along the perimeter of the building. Zion followed at a respectful pace behind, not wanting to be overbearing but not quite ready to let this guy have his roam of the place yet.