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

by Derek Slaton

  Calvin shook his head. “No ma’am, there is not,” he replied, walking out from behind the bar to hand her a can. She thanked him and opened it, resuming staring out at the bridge of writhing hungry monsters.

  “We’ll go over the cars,” Zion finally said after chugging his own can of soda. “We’re going to have to be quick, though. It’ll attract a lot of attention with the noise, and we’re gonna have to haul ass that five blocks to where Adam’s friends are.”

  “So he says,” Brent muttered.

  Zion didn’t bother answering him, because he knew that it was a risk. Those people hadn’t given them any reason to distrust them, but this was the apocalypse, and to trust too easily was to die quickly. They would have to be careful. If there was help there, then great, but if not, then they’d just keep going.

  Calvin let out a grunt as he crushed his empty soda can, grinning at Monique’s unimpressed but amused expression at the faux-manly gesture. “We ready to go, then?” he asked. “Let’s ride out this sugar high.”

  “We go two-by-two,” Zion instructed. “Brent, you’re with me on the left row of cars, Monique and Calvin, you’re on the right. Stay focused, be fast, but make sure to know your footing.”

  The group nodded and Brent put a little weight on his bad foot to test it out. It wasn’t perfect, but the pseudo-nurse had done a good job strengthening it a little. They readied the pipes they’d salvaged from the factory and followed Zion as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Ready,” he hissed. “And go!” He took off at a sprint towards the cars, clambering up onto the trunk of the first sedan. Calvin kept pace with him, and Monique and Brent took up the rear of their respective rows.

  The zombies immediately figured out their meals were running overtop of their heads, and started attempting to get there. One managed to flop onto a low hood, and Zion leapt down from the roof, crushing its head with his weapon and kicking the corpse to the side so that none of the others could use it as leverage.

  Calvin whacked two corpses back from the trunk of a Cadillac, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Monique was keeping up with him. She waved him off, urging him with a hand to hurry up.

  “We’re halfway!” Zion called as he thwacked the head off of another zombie, and glanced back just in time to see Brent trip over a flailing arm.

  The ex-leader screamed as he hit the back window of a compact SUV, the zombie tearing into his calf as he went down. Zion scrambled back over the vehicle, grabbing Brent by the back of his shirt to haul him up onto the roof.

  “Fuckfuckfuck,” Brent babbled as he clutched at his knee, fear evident in his eyes.

  Zion clenched his jaw, offering his hand. The ex-leader smacked it away.

  “You gotta kill me, man, I don’t wanna become one of those things,” he begged, voice strained. “And I don’t wanna slow you down, either. You gotta save our home.” He reached up and clutched at the bottom of Zion’s shirt, eyes pleading. His comrade nodded and stepped back, tightening his hand around his weapon.

  “Promise me you’ll rescue our people,” Brent whispered, as he let his hands fall to his sides, preparing for death.

  Zion raised his weapon high above his head with a firmly sincere expression in his eyes. “You can count on it.” And then he cracked Brent’s skull open.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Fuckin’ Brent, man,” Calvin moaned as they hit the asphalt on the other side, still shellshocked from so abruptly losing their ex-leader.

  Monique shoved him from behind. “Later, we’ve gotta move!” she cried, the zombies easily staggering out of the traffic jam to follow them.

  Zion darted into the residential street at full speed, leading the last two remaining survivors of their rag-tag group of exiles into suburbia. His legs screamed as they pumped, outrunning the horde that, though slower, was large enough that they needed to put as much distance between them as they could.

  “This has gotta be it,” he huffed as a makeshift fortress came into view.

  It was a set of six houses, all with high privacy fences around the back halves, the middle two reinforced with busted cars and sheet metal. In the middle someone had built up the gate between the two center houses, two guards standing on top of a seemingly well-built guard tower.

  “Let us in, please!” Monique shrieked as they reached the front lawn.

  Zion stopped to smash a few zombie skulls of stragglers to give them a few extra minutes.

  Calvin banged on the wooden gate. “Please, man, come on, Adam sent us up here, open the gate, please!”

  One of the guards’ eyes widened at the sight of the thick horde of zombies groaning their way up the street. He lifted a radio to his mouth.

  “Permission to open the gates,” he said, and Monique and Calvin turned around, pipes at the ready, to back up Zion in case the corpses got too close.

  He whirled around and pointed his weapon at the guard tower. “I’ll burn this whole fucking place to the ground if you don’t open those fucking gates right now!” he bellowed.

  Both the guards went white as sheets, and hastily opened the doors. The trio bustled inside and helped pull the gates shut as soon as they were inside to keep the horde from slipping in after them. Several guards rushed up to reinforce the gate with wood, metal, and their own bodies, pushing back against the smacking corpses on the other side.

  “What the fuck are you people doing?!” a tall red headed woman stormed over to the trio, eyes blazing.

  Zion reared on her, his own expression dark with anger. “You tried to get us fucking killed!” he yelled.

  “You led the horde here!” she screamed back, pointing at the doors. “If they get in then all of my people are fucked!”

  Monique put a hand on her brother’s chest, pushing him back from the woman who looked ready to wring his neck with her bare hands. “Listen, we appreciate you letting us in, and we want to help you,” she said calmly, hoping to defuse the situation. “We were with Adam and his group on the south side of the bridge and he said you were friendly and could help us.”

  The woman grunted, crossing her arms, as if petulantly accepting this information because of affiliation with Adam. “These gates aren’t going to be strong enough to keep a large horde at bay. What the fuck are you going to do to fix this?”

  Zion stepped forward. “We can lure them away for you. We need to move on. But we need transportation to do that.”

  “And why should I give you anything?” The woman scowled.

  “Look lady, we’re in the goddamn apocalypse,” he said, throwing up his hands to emphasize their surroundings. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but humans are in short supply. And we need to work together if we have any hope of surviving the zombies and the end of the world. We had a home, a self-sufficient place with gardens and people living. And a group of power-tripping military assholes came and took over, exiling a bunch of us and are doing god-knows-what to our people. We need to save them.”

  The woman’s gaze softened, as she took in the trio’s defeated bodies but determined eyes. “Name’s Wendy,” she said gruffly, and waved for them to follow her. “This way.”

  She led them through the fortress, which looked to be about a hundred people strong.

  “I’ll also need a rifle,” Calvin piped up, trotting after them.

  Wendy pursed her lips. “I don’t know if I can part with that,” she said with a shake of her head. “Ammo is a very limited resource.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, I won’t need much ammo,” he assured her. “I can shoot the squirrel off a tick at a hundred yards.”

  She raised an eyebrow as they paused in front of a large bug tent. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

  “Not if you’re hungry.” Calvin shrugged. She sighed and motioned to the tent, which was their makeshift armory.

  “I also need my sister to stay here,” Zion spoke up.

  Monique gasped. “No! No way! I’m coming with you, Z!”
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br />   He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re prepared for what needs to happen when we get back to the complex,” he said gently, taking her shoulders in his hands. “And I’d be able to focus a lot better if I knew you were safe, here.”

  Tears welled up in her big eyes as she wound her fists in her shirt. She knew he was right, but she didn’t have to like it. “Fuck you, big brother,” she said weakly, and he pressed his lips affectionately against her forehead.

  “She can stay,” Wendy replied gently, crossing her arms. “But nothing comes for free. We all earn our keep here.”

  “Monique’s got lots of skills,” Calvin announced as he came out of the tent, rifle in hand. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Wendy turned back to Zion. “There’s a park and ride three blocks east of here, with cars that seem to be in working order, but there aren’t any keys,” she said.

  He grinned. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said.

  Her radio crackled. “The gate’s starting to buckle!” somebody’s voice yelled through, and she motioned to the wall behind her.

  “You can go up and over here,” she tugged on a rope hanging there, and the trio approached.

  Monique pulled her brother in for a tight hug. “You come back for me, you hear?” she said.

  “Don’t worry Monique, I’ll keep your bro alive and kicking,” Calvin said, puffing his chest out.

  She laughed wetly and wiped her eyes, punching the wiry stoner in the shoulder. “You’d better not die on me either, you little shit,” she said affectionately, and he winked at her before slinging the rifle over his shoulder and grabbing the rope in his hands.

  Zion extended his hand to Wendy. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  She shook it with a nod. “Just hurry.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Calvin hit the ground behind Zion, rifle in hand, and they crept around the corner to see about a hundred zombies pushing against the front gate of the small community. Zion leapt out, banging his bat-sword against the asphalt to cause a ruckus.

  “Hey, cocksuckers!” he bellowed. “You hungry? I’m packin’ a giant one for ya!”

  Calvin kept pace with him as they tore off for the parking area. “We maybe should have waited until we hot wired the car,” he huffed breathlessly.

  The lot was fenced in, but the walkway that used to be locked up behind a gate was hanging open instead. Zion shoved the wiry young man ahead of him, and Calvin tore open the driver’s side door of an impressively shiny truck, popping open the console to grab the wires.

  Zion stood in the walkway entrance, which was about double his width, smacking his weapon back and forth in an impressive display of zombie dominance. The bodies began to pile up, but the horde just kept coming, climbing over their fallen brethren and forcing him to back inside the lot. More flooded in, spreading out of the bottleneck to surround him in a more threatening way, the stench of rotting flesh overwhelming.

  The truck roared to life and he darted around to the passenger’s side, hopping it just as Calvin slammed his own door shut and popped the vehicle into gear. He mowed down the zombies ahead of them, crashing right through the remaining gate as if it were made of paper. Bodies flew everywhere, but what was left of the horde was sufficiently distracted from the small community at least.

  Hope swelled inside of the duo as they sped towards their home. If there was anything left of it, that was.

  “Do you think everyone is okay?” Calvin asked quietly, jaw tense.

  Zion shook his head, more than a little taken aback at the sight of his young friend being serious for once. “Can’t say for sure. But we’ll do what we can. We’ll take out every one of those fuckers, and pick up the pieces after as best we can.”

  They drove off of the beaten path just as the sun was setting, cutting the engine in the trees to keep a low profile.

  “We’ll rest up here for a bit while we wait for nightfall,” Zion said, jumping down from the truck. Calvin rummaged around in the backseat and found a backpack full of crunchy snacks, cheese puffs and salt and vinegar chips. There was a bottle of water too, which was a godsend.

  They lounged in the grass, leaning up against a thick tree trunk, cracking open bags and sharing the bottle of water as if it were chardonnay and smoked cheese. In the apocalypse, it almost was.

  “Well, since there’s a good chance we’re not gonna live to see the sunrise, I gotta know…” Calvin trailed off around a mouthful of cheese puffs. “Are the rumors true? About all the gang shit?”

  Zion swallowed his own mouthful and took a swig of water, contemplating. “Yeah,” he replied with a shrug. “Though I don’t know what the specifics of all of the rumors are.

  But I was in a gang back on the west coast. And I did some pretty horrendous shit for them.”

  “Why?” Calvin blurted, and then clamped his mouth shut as if he regretted asking anything.

  Zion shook his head. “They were like my family, you know? I mean I’ve got Monique, and our ma was out there too, but I didn’t know any other life. They were my brothers, and they took care of me so that I could take care of my sister and ma.” He took a swig of water and then handed the bottle back to his companion. “And I guess there was a level of security that I couldn’t get anywhere else. I was an enforcer, which meant that I was the guy that went out to make sure people paid their dues and their respects. If somebody was fucking around, or doing something that offended the gang, I went to enforce the rules.”

  “Wow,” Calvin breathed, and swallowed audibly. “That’s pretty badass.”

  “I guess,” Zion replied with a shrug. “At the time I felt like hot shit, you know? Chest puffed out, gang at my back, workin’ hard to make ‘em proud. I didn’t have to worry about nothin’ or nobody. People fuckin’ cowered when I entered a room, and if they didn’t they would be by the time I was leavin’.

  “Now, after the end of the world… I guess it all just seems so petty. I feel guilty for a lot of the shit I did. I disappointed my ma a lot of the time, and I tried to justify what I was doing because I was taking care of her. But when she put her foot down and told me she’d disown me if I didn’t get Monique the fuck outta L.A., well… family comes first.”

  Calvin nodded. “I guess shit must have gotten pretty hairy for that to happen,” he replied, playing absentmindedly with the cap of the bottle. “But at least, even if you do feel guilty about some of the shit you did, it wasn’t totally petty. You got all kinds of fighting experience to use in the apocalypse.”

  Zion chuckled. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” He shook his head, sobering a little and looking at the inky sky. “I just wish I knew if she was alive. I wish we’d have brought her with us. If I’d have known this shit was going to happen…”

  “Ah, man, you couldn’t have predicted the zombie apocalypse, come on,” Calvin said.

  His companion got to his feet. “Now you sound like my sister.”

  “Speaking of your sister…”

  “Don’t even fuckin’ say it,” Zion snapped good-naturedly, pointing a finger at his wiry friend. “If we live through the night and save our home, you can profess your undying love to her face, and then we’ll get to watch as she skins you.”

  The blood drained from Calvin’s face and he nodded jerkily. “Deal.” He got up, stretching his back and slinging his new rifle over his shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “At the back of the parking garage there’s an exit-only door that probably won’t be guarded,” Zion said as he began to trudge through the near blinding darkness of the forest.

  Calvin followed the sound of his footsteps, brow furrowed. “Probably?”

  “It’s our best chance to sneak inside,” came the reply. “We’ll get up to my apartment, and be able to get a lay of the land from there, since the window is pretty central. Then we’ll figure out a plan of attack based on where the enemies are.” The sound of his knuckles cracking echoed in the thick woods. “We show zero merc
y. No fucking survivors. We’re going to make an example of these bastards.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “So if it’s exit-only, how the hell are we going to get it open?” Calvin hissed as the two approached the door, the prediction of it being unguarded having been a good one. Zion ducked around the corner where there was a barred window, still with the missing pane of glass that he remembered.

  “Get ready,” he whispered. He slid his weapon through, managing to get his arm through the bars up to the elbow where his biceps were too wide to fit. He poked the release on the door, and then tightened his grip, giving a valiant jab and pushing it open just enough for Calvin to slip his fingers inside.

  Zion pulled himself back through the window and they slipped into the dimly lit parking garage, shutting the door quietly behind them. They stayed low behind the row of cars, though they didn’t hear any movement echoing about. They scurried over to the door leading to the main stairwell for the building, but Zion shoved Calvin out of the way at the sound of somebody coming downstairs.

  Thankfully it was just one man, and he burst into the parking garage, whistling a jaunty tune and not even paying attention to his surroundings. Zion wasted no time whacking him in the back of the knees with his bat-sword, dropping him easily.

  Calvin pointed his rifle at the kneeling man, who put his hands up over his head obediently.

  “You,” he spat, clearly remembering them. His face clenched with anger, but he didn’t make a move against them. Zion checked the stairwell for anyone else, but it was clear.

  “Where are all of your men posted?” he demanded as he walked back over to their prisoner, tightening his grip on his weapon.

  The military grunt looked curiously at the weapon that had caused the current throbbing in his legs, and wrinkled his nose. “Everyone’s in the courtyard eating,” he said with a sneer. “Your people are compliant as kittens. They know they have to cook and entertain us, or they die.”

  “Entertain?” Zion’s eyes blazed as he imagined exactly what that meant.