Dead America | Prequel | Ground Zero

by Slaton, Derek

  Dudley and Dalton yanked on the doors, and this time they opened, but only about six inches before there was a metallic clanging sound.

  Dudley gaped at the sight of chains holding the handles shut from the inside. “Something is definitely not right here.”

  Brandon stepped forward, pulling out his flashlight, and shone it through the gap in the doors, peering into the darkness. There was scattered furniture, desks and chairs, and papers on the floor. But no signs of life.

  “Looks like there was a struggle of some kind,” he murmured.

  Dalton swallowed hard. “Must have been really fucking bad if they chained it up from the inside,” he said. “What were they trying to keep out?”

  “Better question is, what were they trying to keep in?” Brandon replied, taking a step back.

  Blanchard raised his baton once again. “Let’s find out!”

  The others got out of the way as he brought his hand down on the frosted glass door. The giant pane shattered easily, cascading to the ground in little shards.

  Blanchard slammed the baton end against the doorframe to retract it and holstered it back up before raising his weapon once again. “Eyes up,” he barked, “let’s go.” He stepped through the door frame, careful not to catch on the jagged glass still stuck in the edges of the metal.

  The other three ducked through behind him, and they fanned out in the small reception area. There was a long hallway in the center of the room leading straight back. The double doors that had once blocked it hung from their hinges as if they’d been nearly torn in.

  “Get a load of this,” Dalton said from the left side, standing over a large pool of blood.

  Dudley pursed his lips as he approached. “That’s either from three separate people, or whoever that belongs to is long dead.”

  “But if they’re dead, then where the hell did they go?” Dalton wondered.

  Brandon walked to the reception window, sliding open the frosted glass to peer into a dimly lit office. It was more of the same. Blood splatters and overturned furniture. He shook his head and turned away.

  “I think we can safely say this isn’t a hoax,” he declared.

  Blanchard raised his rifle as he stared straight down the hallway with the busted doors. “I think I just saw something move,” he said. The other three clustered around him, squinting in the low light. After a tense moment, they all jumped at the sound of crunching glass behind them.

  They whipped around, guns raised, and Candace froze, staring at them with wide eyes.

  “Holy Jesus girl, don’t do that,” Dudley breathed, lowering his weapon.

  Brandon pointed to the door she’d just ducked through. “You need to wait outside,” he said firmly.

  “Oh my god, what happened?” The blonde gasped, her hand rising to her chest at the sight of the giant lake of blood to her left. She rushed towards the reception desk.

  Brandon stepped into her path, putting his arms out to stop her. “You need to leave. It’s not safe.”

  “My best friend Marta was working in here last night,” Candace said, desperation in her voice. “I need to see.”

  Brandon took a deep breath and nodded, allowing the young student to pass and peer through the window. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she stepped back, shaking her head in denial and disbelief.

  “You!” Blanchard suddenly barked, raising his weapon as he stared down the hallway. “Hands where I can see them!” He motioned to his team. “Light, I need light!”

  Dudley whipped out his flashlight, and pressed himself against the corner of the wall, and held his arm out, shining it down the hallway around the busted door.

  There were three people standing down there illuminated by the dim glow, splattered with blood. One of them, a young woman in what was once pale pink scrubs, was missing what looked like a considerable chunk of flesh from her neck. The frat boy next to her had blood all around his mouth, streaming down the front of his stiff-collared polo shirt. A boy on the other side in shorts and a t-shirt was visibly missing pieces of his arms and legs.

  Dudley’s hand shook as he painted the scene with light, and as he pointed it at their milky ghostly eyes, they screeched and sprinted down the hallway.

  “Down on the ground!” Blanchard bellowed. “Get down on the ground!”

  The screams of the three people rushing him downed out his voice, and they did not get down on the ground. They looked murderous and crazed, mouths black as they opened with their inhuman shrieks.

  He had no choice but to open fire.

  He hit them all in a burst of three, center mass as per his training, blood splattering all over the hallway.

  But they didn’t drop.

  Dudley dropped the flashlight as the runners reached the doors, shock overtaking him at how they were still moving while riddled with bullets. Blanchard cried out as the assailants crashed into him, and screamed in shocked pain as three sets of teeth bit into his tender body.

  Dalton was the first to snap out of shock, and he opened fire on the pile of bodies in the center of the room. Brandon grabbed Candace’s arm and shoved the quivering girl behind him, giving her a boost up through the reception window. She pressed her back against the wall, lowering herself to the floor and covering her ears in fear.

  Pieces came off of the assailants, painting Blanchard’s twitching form in human goulash. The frat boy finally dropped, half his face gone as a bullet pierced his eye. The other boy lunged for Dalton, latching onto his hand as he struggled to reload. Dalton grabbed his knife from his belt and plunged it over and over into his attacker’s shoulder and chest, trying to get him to let go.

  He screamed as the boy tore his hand apart with his teeth, and in his panic drove the knife into his skull. The boy immediately dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap of pungent flesh.

  Dalton stared helplessly at the remaining girl, the nurse in the pink scrubs practically feasting on Blanchard’s now still form. Brandon approached, handgun raised, and put a bullet into the back of the nurse’s head.

  The three SWAT members stood for a beat, stock still, brains desperately trying to process what the hell had just happened.

  “Holy shit!” Dudley suddenly cried, eyes as big as saucers as he stared in horror down the hallway. Dalton turned just in time to see a dozen blood-spattered people running full tilt towards him. The first five tore into him before he could even react, tearing his flesh apart as he screamed in agony.

  “Go!” Brandon yelled to Dudley, and then dove through the reception window himself. Just as he shut the glass, he saw Dudley make an escape through the front door, several of those things tearing out behind him.

  Candace rocked back and forth, hands still over her ears, breaths coming in and out in ragged gasps. Brandon dropped to his knees, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though he had no idea how he could reassure her at all.

  They sat in terrified silence as they listened to the things in the next room tear Dalton to pieces with their teeth.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  8:45AM

  The noises of smacking lips and hungry groans dissipated, and Brandon gave it a full minute of silence before he squeezed Candace’s shoulder.

  “We have to go,” he whispered.

  She nodded jerkily, taking a deep breath and wiping at her eyes.

  “Okay, I’m going to open this window and sweep the room,” he said, pointing up at the reception window. “I want you to stay in here until I say it’s clear.”

  She nodded again. “Got you.”

  He stood up and slid the window open as slowly and silently as he possibly could. There was only one of their attackers wandering outside of the front door, but something caught its eye and it tore off. Brandon opened the window the rest of the way and lifted his leg to climb over the desk.

  He froze.

  “What is it?” Candace whispered, staring up at him.

  Brandon couldn’t speak. He could only stare as Blanchard’s corpse began to move.
The fallen SWAT officer’s legs twitched, his arms shooting out to his sides before he sat up straight. His eyes looked like they were covered in a foggy film as they turned to Brandon, and his black mouth opened in an inhuman shriek.

  He launched onto his bloody legs and rushed toward the reception window. Brandon finally remembered how to move and leapt back, drawing his handgun. Candace shrieked and crab walked backwards along the floor, jumping up so that she was behind the living SWAT officer.

  “Cover your ears,” Brandon instructed as he raised the gun, staring down Blanchard, who didn’t seem to have the coordination to get over and through the window.

  The blonde nodded and did as she was told, backing up against the far wall as Brandon approached his coworker.

  “I’m sorry about this, man,” Brandon said, and held out the gun to fire into Blanchard’s throat. His dead coworker continued to groan and gnash his teeth, reaching out with bloody hands for his living companion.

  Brandon took a deep breath and pursed his lips, then held the gun to Blanchard’s forehead. He pulled the trigger, blowing brains all over the reception area, his comrade finally falling limp and quiet.

  Candace lowered her hands, wringing them in front of her. “Why did you shoot him in the neck first?”

  “In the firefight I swear it looked like the only effective shot was a headshot,” Brandon replied, still staring at the corpse of his friend in disbelief. “I had to test the theory.”

  “Why the neck?” the blonde asked, voice growing a bit more confident. “The heart would have been a much more effective kill shot, no?”

  Brandon tapped his chest. “Bulletproof.” He reached out and pushed at Blanchard’s shoulders, letting the corpse fall to the floor before he swept the room with his eyes again. He hopped over the desk fully, bringing his gun back up before peeking around the busted doors into the hallway.

  “Are we good?” Candace hissed from the window, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small office. She wanted to get outside. Breathe air that wasn’t tainted with blood.

  Brandon looked down at Dalton’s body, torn into a complete mess. There were exposed bones everywhere, his body ripped to pieces. Brandon took a deep breath and fired a single round into his dead coworker’s forehead.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” he replied.

  She hopped through the window as he collected the leftover ammunition from his dead friends. He grabbed Dalton’s handgun and held it out to the blonde.

  “Here, I get the sense you’re gonna need that,” he said.

  She took it and checked to make sure a round was chambered, and the safety was on before tucking it into the back of her pants. She turned and leaned over Blanchard, snatching up his assault rifle and a fresh mag.

  “Whoa now,” Brandon held up a hand. “Be careful with that.”

  Candace raised an eyebrow. “Officer Shelton, where are you from?” she asked.

  “Born and raised here in Austin, ma’am,” he replied.

  “Well, I was born and raised in a small West Texas town that had more rattlesnakes than people,” she replied as she checked over the weapon. “If I was a bettin’ woman, I’d say I’ve spent more time using a gun like this than you have.”

  Brandon chuckled as she cocked the gun and held out two more mags. “In that case, you’ll probably need these as well.”

  She accepted them and stuffed her pockets before widening her stance with a nod. He approached the front door and peeked out into the quad. Where moments ago there had been peaceful students studying and relaxing in the summer sun, now there were bloodstains and cries and corpses feasting on flesh.

  Brandon let out a heavy sigh.

  “What’s with the sigh, Officer?” Candace asked, finally finding her voice now that she was armed and full of adrenaline. “Don’t be giving up on me now.”

  “Sorry, it’s just…” he trailed off and shook his head, pointing to a tree about forty yards away. She pressed her lips into a thin line at the sight of Dudley, dead-eyed as six corpses ate his limbs.

  “Sorry about your friend,” she said quietly.

  Brandon nodded. “Thanks. I’ll have time to mourn later.” He looked around. “Right now, I’m more worried about getting us out of here. My sigh was in response to Dudley over there having the keys to the SUV we came in.”

  “Well, you’re in luck, Officer,” Candace replied. “Both my boyfriend and I have cars, but you have to help me get to him. You do that, and we’re out of here.”

  Brandon looked down at her with a firm nod. “You have a deal. Where is he?”

  “Classroom building A, room two-seventeen,” she replied.

  He blinked at her. “And how do we get there?”

  “Quickest way is going to be through the Student Union right across the quad,” she said, inclining her head outside. “When we get in, we hug the wall on the right until we get to the double doors. Then it’s down a connecting hallway and up a flight of stairs.”

  Brandon turned his attention back to the quad, reassessing their chances. The coast was mostly clear, but a few corpses rushed into the open doors of the Student Union.

  “Shit,” he cursed. “Those things just got into the Union. We gotta go.”

  The armed duo burst out into the quad, shoes squelching in the fresh blood as they skirted the corpses that would soon be standing up again. There were a few screeches as some of the feasting creatures noticed them and gave chase.

  Screams and shots echoed inside the Union, and Brandon and Candace threw themselves inside just in time to see a terrified-looking security guard disappear under a throng of hungry corpses.

  “The doors are there!” Candace cried, pointing past a group of students that tore off in different directions from the now-abandoned coffee shop.

  Brandon nodded, moving forward with his gun raised. “I’ll take point, you cover the side,” he said, and the blonde raised her own weapon, following dutifully.

  A few zombies leapt up from the security guard and tore towards them, but Brandon dropped them easily with shots to the forehead. He opened the double doors and swept the hallway, noting only a young couple cowering in the corner to the left. Candace motioned to them as she breached the doors.

  “Come on, we have to go!” she urged.

  The boy got up, a bloody rag wrapped around his hand. He grasped the girl with his good hand and dragged her along, whimpers echoing behind the armed pair leading the way.

  “Where are the stairs?” Brandon asked.

  Candace waved ahead of them. “End of the hall on the right.”

  He picked up the pace, the four of them running as hard as they could. Inhuman cries cut through the air behind them like bullets as a dozen or so corpses barreled into the hallway behind them.

  Brandon reached the door at the end first and threw it open, holding it open with his body for the others as he fired into the pursuing horde. He managed to fell two of them, barely tripping up the others as they scrambled over to get to their meal.

  Candace led the way up the stairs, peeking out the door to the second floor, her heart leaping when she saw there were no creatures skulking about. She waved the young couple through.

  “Get to room two-seventeen,” she instructed, and they took off as she waited for Brandon to catch up. He whipped past her and they slammed the door shut behind them on the stampede of corpses thundering up the stairs.

  “Grab that broom and shove it in the handles,” he grunted as he pressed himself against the metal door.

  The blonde pursed her lips. “I don’t think that’s gonna hold very long, Officer.”

  “Doesn’t need to,” he replied. “Just has to buy us time to get to the classroom.”

  Candace sprinted over to the mop bucket and broom that had been left in the corner, and then rushed back, jamming it through the handles as securely as she could.

  “Go,” he instructed, and she nodded, turning tail and running full tilt for room two-seventeen. Brandon waited until s
he was about halfway there and then pushed off of the door. He was barely eight steps away when the sound of splintering wood echoed behind him, and he skidded into the classroom as the broom exploded, zombies pouring into the hallway. He dove into the classroom and Candace slammed the door behind him, locking it and pressing her back against the door.

  Brandon and the other girl dragged the heavy professor’s desk over and pushed it against the door, effectively blocking it.

  They backed away from the door, chests heaving, sweaty and blood spattered and disheveled.

  “What in the world are y’all doing?” a girl asked from her desk, pulling a set of white earbuds from her ears. “We’re trying to study in here.”

  The quartet turned to look at the three students sitting at desks with books and papers everywhere, working on school work as if there were nothing amiss outside.

  “Study time is over,” Brandon declared, and one boy’s eyes widened when he recognized his girlfriend, armed to the teeth and bent over to catch her breath.

  “Candace! Are you okay?” he asked as he rushed over to her. “Why do you have a gun?”

  She nodded, reaching up to clutch his arm in relief. “Two guns, actually,” she huffed, offering a smile. “But yeah, I’m okay, thanks to Officer Shelton.”

  The young man extended his hand to Brandon. “Thank you, Officer, I’m Matt-”

  He was cut off by the door rattling in its hinges, loud bangs as the corpses slammed into the door. The girl with the earbuds leapt from her desk in shock.

  “Who… who’s out there?” she gasped.

  “I think a better question is what’s out there,” Brandon replied, shaking his head. “But the answer to both is things that want to harm us.”

  The boy from the hallway held up his hand and removed the bloody rag, revealing a missing pinky and clear teeth marks in his palm. “No shit,” he said, “look what they did to my hand!”

  “Did you get bitten?” Candace asked.

  “No, blondie, it was a firm handshake gone awry,” he snapped. “Of course I got bitten!”