DEAD AMERICA
GROUND ZERO
BY DEREK SLATON
© 2019
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero - 7:30AM
Brandon Shelton leaned over the stove, giving the egg mixture a good scrambling before leaving it to set into a fluffy omelette. He sprinkled cheese and spinach over it, and then glanced over at Samantha, waiting patiently at the kitchen island. He shot her a goofy grin and she couldn’t help but laugh at his infectious expression.
“You sure you don’t want some ham or sausage in here?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “No, daddy, eating animals is wrong!”
“Ten years old, and already a vegetarian.” He turned back to the pan and muttered to himself, “We’ll see what happens when you’re old enough to appreciate a properly prepared steak.”
Melissa bounced into the kitchen in her yoga outfit, chocolate ponytail bouncing along behind her. Brandon drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he took a moment to admire his wife’s tight body while she leaned over to grab the orange juice.
“Mommy, daddy wants me to eat animals!” Samantha whined.
Melissa chuckled as she poured herself a glass of juice. “And why would he do such a thing?” she asked playfully.
“Because I don’t want my little girl getting teased at school,” he replied. “This is Texas. Some things are sacred.”
His wife rolled her eyes. “We also live in the Liberal Alamo that is Austin.” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “She’ll be fine.” She winked at Brandon. “Besides, that just means more steak for us.”
He chuckled and flipped the omelette, enjoying the hissss of the heat firing up on the egg.
“My yoga class should be over by ten, so if you and Samantha want to meet me at the restaurant by eleven, we can have lunch together,” Melissa said as she filled up her water bottle.
Brandon nodded. “Sounds like a date. We should be finished with her check-up by then.” He slid the finished omelette onto a plate and set it down in front of Samantha with a flourish just as his pager trilled its intrusive ring.
He frowned as he crossed the kitchen to the device on the counter. “Come on, Captain, this is the first day off I’ve had in a week,” he groaned.
“They’re not calling you in, are they?” Melissa’s brow furrowed, disappointment evident in her voice.
He shook his head. The digital readout simply said All hands on deck. “I’m sorry baby, I’ve gotta go.”
His wife pursed her lips as Samantha let out a little whine of disapproval.
“If they’re calling you in on your day off, it must be bad,” Melissa said, putting a supportive hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of Samantha, you go play the hero.”
Brandon approached them and pulled them both into a tight hug. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing major,” he said as he pulled back, noting the look of worry on his wife’s face. “When I was leaving last night there were a few call-outs, so this probably nothing more than them needing another warm body on standby.”
He focused his expression into a reassuring facade. But beneath his exterior, his heart pounded in his chest. In all his years on SWAT, there was only one other All hands on deck moment, and it had been a maniac with an AK-47 laying waste to an office building. Whatever was going on wasn’t going to make for a pleasant day.
He gave Melissa a kiss and then leaned down to kiss the top of Samantha’s head.
“You were supposed to take me to my doctor’s appointment!” She pouted.
Brandon offered her a big smile. “Mommy’s going to take you, but I’ll try to be there for lunch to make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me?” She gave him a sly grin. “So you won’t eat meat either?”
He winced as his wife barked a laugh. “Okay honey, no meat at lunch,” he promised.
“Yay! Thanks daddy!” Samantha cried and threw her arms around his neck.
He hugged her and then set her back in her seat. “Okay, finish your breakfast so you can get going to your appointment.” He stood up and ruffled her hair.
Melissa put a gentle hand on his arm. “Be careful.”
He gave her another sweet kiss. “Always.”
CHAPTER TWO
7:55AM
Brandon hustled through the police station. It was in chaos, people rushing about everywhere, barking orders at each other, but it was only half as full as it should have been at that time of day.
As he entered the SWAT staging area, three of his coworkers were already there, gearing up.
“Well it’s about goddamn time you got here,” Blanchard said gruffly. “We were thinking we’d have to leave without you.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure there’s a regulation against going into a hostile situation without the best trooper in the unit.”
“Well, let’s hope not, because I don’t think Skidmore is making it in,” Blanchard shot back, his salt-and-pepper beard glimmering in the fluorescents as he grinned.
There were laughs all around as they finished gearing up. Brandon shrugged into his vest and slung on his tactical assault rifle.
“What in the hell happened to Skidmore, anyway?” Dalton asked. He was the youngest of the quartet in his mid-twenties, but with his tall frame dwarfing the rest of them, nobody would guess that right away.
Dudley shrugged from beside him, sliding his hat over his bald head. “Probably the same thing that happened to the rest of our team. Out sick with that stomach bug or whatever the hell it is.”
“So do y’all have any idea why we’re in here on our day off?” Brandon asked as he finished dressing.
Blanchard shook his head. “Probably Alpha Team shitting themselves at the sight of a single loser with a handgun. They gotta call in the real badasses to bail em out.”
“I really wish that was the case, Blanchard,” Captain Shultz declared from the doorway.
The four SWAT officers turned to their Captain as he entered the room, face pale and somber. That was never a good sign, and Brandon’s stomach plummeted into his boots.
“Don’t mind me,” Shultz said, waving them off. “Y’all finish getting suited up. Y’all have places to be.”
“What gives, Captain?” Dudley asked as he laced up a boot. “Why are we here on our day off?”
Shultz took a deep breath. “Around 6:45 this morning, we got a call from a U.T. Campus Officer saying there was a major disturbance at the student medical center,” he began. “Now normally we would have just dispatched a couple of uniforms over there to check it out, but it so happens that the campus officer in question was one of my old partners from way back in the day. He said they needed the SWAT team, and I could hear that something wasn’t right in his voice, so I complied. We heard nothing from then until this call came in to 911 at 7:25.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit play on a recording.
“911, what is your emer-”
“OH MY GOD SEND HELP! SEND HELP!”
Brandon froze at the sound of utter fear in the man’s voice. It was the embodiment of intense desperation, the sound of a man that had seen something horrendous.
“Sir, I need you to calm down, what is your name and where are you?”
“I’m with SWAT we need every available officer at th-”
The sound of gunshots interrupted his yelling, and there were screams in the background.
“Sir? Is everything okay?”
“They’re fucking everywhere!”
“Where are you, sir?”
“U.T. Student Medical Center! Send everyone!”
There were more gunshots, more screaming.
“Die,
motherfucker! Die! Die!”
There was a clatter that sounded like the phone had been dropped, and then a very close scream of utter agony. Brandon let out a ragged breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding. His fists clenched and shook.
The Captain turned off the recording. “There are a few more shots and screams before the line goes dead. We’ve tried every form of communication we can think of, but to no avail. None of the SWAT team members are responding, and phone service in the area is out of commission.”
The faces of the team were greenish-white, eyes wide.
Brandon pursed his lips. “Rewind it a bit, Captain?” he asked.
“What the hell would you want to hear it again for?” Dudley blurted.
Brandon held up a hand. “Just. Please.”
Shultz pulled the recording back a bit, and they listened carefully as the last few shots rang out.
Brandon nodded. “There.”
“There? What do you mean, there?” Dudley threw up his hands.
His coworker held up a finger. “If you listen closely, you can hear that every single shot is coming from our man. That means that whatever is in there, didn’t take him down with a weapon. Or at least not with a gun.”
“Who in the fuck would do that?” Dalton put in, raising his rifle. “When you got one of these bad boys staring down range at you, you’re taking cover, not rushing into the bullets.”
“I know one way we can find out,” Blanchard stepped forward. “Get your shit and let’s go.”
“There’s a geared up SUV waiting for you in the garage,” Shultz told them. “Get up to campus, find out what’s going on, and report back any way you can.”
There was a chorus of yes sir, as they headed out towards the garage, determined but terrified.
CHAPTER THREE
8:30AM
“Fucking Austin traffic, man,” Dalton lamented as he drove the SUV through downtown. “We’re three miles away from campus and it still takes twenty damn minutes to get there.”
Dudley nodded. “Hell, pretty sure we could have walked it faster than this.”
“Yeah, but then we would have had to put ole Blanchard here down like an injured horse when his knees disintegrated from all that activity,” Brandon joked from the passenger’s seat.
Blanchard punched the back of his coworker’s headrest. “Bitch, I ran a Ten-K last month! When’s the last time you walked further than the distance between your couch and your car?”
“I know, I could live to be a hundred and never understand the appeal of paying someone for the privilege of running long distances.” Brandon shook his head.
“Fuck you man,” the older man shot back. “It was a fundraiser.”
Dudley raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, for what?”
“Hell if I know!” Blanchard shrugged. “It was one of them child-killing diseases or something. I just did it because I wanted the medal. Ladies go crazy for a man wearing one of those.”
Dalton snorted. “I’ve seen the women you date, man. You could have gotten the same reaction with a sixer of High Life and a couple of dollar scratcher tickets.”
The SUV erupted into laughter, even Blanchard joining in. They sped through a yellow light to get them into the front parking lot for the University campus. The lot was jam-packed with cars, but Dalton screeched to a stop at the far end in a pickup zone and the four of them bustled out into the sunlight.
A few students nearby eyed the four heavily armed SWAT officers on the sidewalk, a young couple carrying books brushing past them in confusion from the other side.
Dalton shook his head. “All right, when someone spots the dire emergency, can you let the rest of us know?”
“Any idea where the student medical center is?” Brandon asked, turning to his youngest coworker.
Dudley shrugged. “Man, it’s been years since I’ve been on this campus. No idea.”
Blanchard waved to the closest cluster of students, holding their books and eyeing the men curiously. “Yo, kids,” he called. “Got a question for you.”
“Yes, Officer?” one of the girls replied, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
He smiled. “Where’s the student medical center?”
“Up those stairs there, then it’s straight across on the other side of the quad,” she said, and pointed behind them. “You can’t miss it.”
Blanchard winked at her. “Appreciate it, ma’am.”
“One more question,” Brandon piped up, stepping forward. “Did y’all hear any big disturbances like an hour or two ago?”
The students shrugged before the girl replied, “Not really?”
“What do you mean, not really?” Brandon’s brow furrowed. “What did you hear?”
“Well, it sounded like someone was lighting off a bunch of firecrackers,” she said, chewing her lip again. “That went on for about twenty minutes or so, and then it just stopped. We’re a few blocks away, so it didn’t really bother us that much.”
Brandon nodded. “All right, appreciate your time.”
The officers bustled up the stairs and onto the quad. The grass glimmered in the morning sun as if no horrors had ever touched it, students hanging out under the golden glow with their books and headphones. Several multi-story buildings lined the area, with a large clock tower at the far end.
It was like something out of a stock photo, and the officers were just as flabbergasted as they’d been when they first arrived.
“Man, everybody is gawking at us,” Dudley said, amusement lacing his tone. “This must be what it’s like to be famous.”
Dalton barked a laugh. “Or what it’s like to leave the house without wearing pants.”
“Nah, not like that,” the younger man replied. “If that were the case, the ladies would be responding to me in an entirely different way.”
“Well, they’re currently not laughing their asses off, so you’re probably right,” Blanchard teased.
Brandon reached the student medical center first, ignoring the trio of laughs happening behind him at Dudley’s expense. He looked back and forth at how many students were coming in and out of the other buildings, but this door was completely void of activity.
“Man, this is bullshit,” Dalton piped up. “There ain’t no emergency here.”
Blanchard groaned. “I swear, if Alpha is playing a prank on us I’m gonna whoop some wholesale ass. Ain’t nobody gonna be spared.”
Brandon shook his head. “Something isn’t right,” he declared. “Look at all these other buildings. Everybody is going in and out like it’s a normal day at the office. But the entire time we’ve been walking, nobody has even approached these doors, from either side.”
“All right boys,” Blanchard said, sobering. “Let’s get our serious face on.”
They clustered around the frosted glass, Dudley and Dalton stepping to either side as they get ready to throw them open.
Brandon nodded to Blanchard. “Count us down.”
His companion nodded and raised his weapon. “Three. Two. One…” He took a deep breath. “Go!”
Dalton and Dudley pulled hard on the doors, but they didn’t budge. They relaxed their postures, and each yanked again, but they were locked tight.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Dudley muttered.
Brandon frowned. “Everybody try your radio for Alpha team.”
The quartet fiddled with their radios, trying different frequencies to call out to the other team. There was no response on any channel. Brandon put his hands up against the frosted glass but was unable to see even blurry shapes in the darkness.
“Ideas?” Dalton asked.
Dudley tried to peer through the glass as well, and then sighed, taking a step back with a frown as he gave up.
“Fuck it,” Blanchard snapped. “I’m breaking the glass.”
Dudley put up a hand. “But what if it’s just a hoax?”
“What if it’s not?” Brandon shot back, stepping away from the door.
“If it is,” Blanchard replied as he pulled out his metal retractable baton, “it’ll be Alpha’s fault, not ours.” He raised his hand to bring it down on the door.
“Hey!” A shrill voice froze the four of them, and they turned to see a blonde female student standing behind them, complete amazement in her gaze. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Door’s locked,” Blanchard replied with a shrug, and wiggled his baton. “I was about to use my key.”
She pulled a keyring from her pocket and jangled them up in front of the SWAT member. “How about a set of real keys?”
“Yeah, that’s probably better,” Dalton agreed, smacking his older companion’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t want his old war horse to tear his rotator cuff or something.”
“What time does the medical center usually open?” Dudley asked.
The girl blinked at him in disbelief. “It’s a medical center. It’s always open.”
Blanchard gave her a sardonic look and jiggled the handle of the door, showing that it was locked. “You were saying, ma’am?”
“Please spare me the ma’am, just Candace,” she replied, though her voice was a bit absent as she stared at the door, perplexed. “Why is the door locked?” She approached the doors and began to extend her key, but Brandon grabbed her wrist. “Excuse me?” she snapped, wrenching her arm from his grip. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m Brandon Shelton of SWAT,” he replied firmly, and held his hand out for the keys. “You need to let me do this.”
Candace eyed him warily. “Why?”
“Because less than an hour ago, our other SWAT team made a frantic 911 call from in there,” he explained calmly. “It sounded like really bad things were going down. It’ll be safer if you let me handle it.”
She pursed her lips, and then gently placed the keyring in his hand.
“I’ll need you to hang out here while we go in, okay?” Brandon confirmed, and she nodded, taking a few steps back.
He turned the key, and the deadbolt gave a dull thunk. The quartet resumed their original breaching position, weapons once again at the ready.
“Breach take two,” Blanchard said, raising his gun. “Three. Two. One… go!”
Dead America | Prequel | Ground Zero Page 1
