Dead America - Lowcountry Pt. 6

by Derek Slaton

  Dante peeked up over the hood and was simultaneously thankful and filled with dread at the twenty-strong horde descending on their enemies. A few fell, but the rest swarmed a limping soldier, sending the last one tearing off towards down, leaving his brother to die screaming.

  He put a finger to his lips, signalling to Ace and Brandt to stay quiet, and thankfully, the ghouls took off after the other mercenary once they were done with their meal.

  “Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Brandt finally hissed, eyes wide.

  Dante shook his head. “No, we need to take out the rest of these mercs,” he said.

  “Fuck that!” the Sheriff growled. “We need to get away from those things! Who knows how many are in town?!”

  “If they get back to QXR and report that we’re here, this whole area is going to be crawling with mercenaries,” Dante argued. “We need to take them out.”

  Brandt shook his head. “Then let’s get out of the area,” he snapped.

  “And go where?” Ace demanded.

  “Survival of this thing is going to count on sustainability,” Dante added. “We can’t just pack up and leave.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, if you stay and help us, I have a safe place you can go.”

  Ace opened his mouth to argue, but Dante put up a hand.

  “The family we met at the hardware store,” he said, and the redneck contemplated a moment, finally nodding. “We can get him to them, they’re out of the way enough.”

  Brandt threw his hands up. “What family? Let’s just go there now!”

  “I’m not going to tell you where they are until you help us get rid of these assholes,” Dante said firmly.

  The Sheriff scowled. “Fine,” he snapped. “What’s the plan, then?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  There was a low moan from the road, and Ace dashed out from behind the police car, drawing his pocket knife. Before the dead mercenary could fully reanimate, he stabbed it in the head. He looked around, and his heart pounded at the sound of moans rising up nearby.

  Dante was the first to spot them, seeing ghouls come around the corner of the station into the parking lot. Brandt fired at them, and the blast hit a zombie in the chest, shredding it but not slowing it down.

  He turned tail and ran, despite Dante’s cry of warning, but it didn’t matter anyway, because more zombies came around the other side of the building.

  “Back inside!” the Sheriff screamed, running for the door.

  Ace lashed out, grabbing his arm and stopping him. “If we go in there we’re stuck there, they’ll swarm the door.”

  “Safer than out here!” Brandt argued, jerking his arm away.

  Dante clambered up onto the hood of one of the cars, making it up onto the roof.

  “You can’t be fucking serious!” Brandt cried, and Ace shook his head.

  “Suit yourself, then, but we’re not saving your ass a second time,” the redneck drawled, and jumped up on top of his own police car.

  The Sheriff waffled for another second, but the zombies were coming fast. Instead of climbing up on a car, he ran for the SUV, diving inside.

  “The tires are flat, idiot!” Ace called, but Brandt didn’t get into the driver’s seat, instead opting to pop up out of the sunroof. He gave Ace the finger, apparently unappreciative of the idiot moniker.

  Dante drew his knife, stabbing at one of the ghouls smacking the side of the car he stood atop. There were enough zombies that the vehicle wobbled beneath him, but he was confident at least that it wouldn’t topple over. He hoped.

  “Try not to waste bullets,” he called over his shoulder. “We also don’t want to make too much noise and attract too many of these things.”

  Brandt scoffed. “As if there aren’t already too many?!” he demanded.

  “Looks like we’ll be saving your ass for a second time,” Ace muttered, realizing that if the Sheriff couldn’t shoot, he wouldn’t be able to reach any heads from the sunroof. Unless he hung out one of the windows, but somehow the redneck didn’t foresee that happening. He wasn’t even sure if he had a blade, anyway, since they’d only suited up he and Henson with vests and shotguns.

  “Should have grabbed Henson’s gun,” he said, dawning on him they could use the extra weapon.

  Dante shook his head as he stabbed another zombie. “We’ll get it after,” he replied.

  “After what?” Ace asked, sighing at the sheer number of ghouls surrounding them. “This is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”

  “Me too,” Dante admitted. “But we’re here now.” He continued to stab, as did Ace, but soon another problem arose. As corpses fell around the vehicles, the zombies got taller from being able to stand atop their dead brethren.

  “We’re gonna have to move,” Ace said, pursing his lips as he assessed the situation. The last eye socket he’d buried his knife into had gotten him an arm swipe that was far too close for comfort.

  “Any room on the other side to jump down the row of cars?” Dante asked, turning around to face him.

  “Gonna have to be,” Ace replied, taking a deep breath. He raised his leg and kicked a zombie in the chest, slamming it into a few of its friends. Before he could second-guess himself, he leapt for the next car.

  It wasn’t a large gap, only a few feet, but from one slick car roof to another, it seemed more precarious than it should be. When he hit the fiberglass on the other side, Ace’s life flashed before his eyes as his shoes slid on the smooth rounded surface. He vaguely heard Dante yelling for him, but all he could concentrate on was staying on top of the car, staying alive.

  He managed to keep a hold of his knife, miraculously, scrabbling as he slid down the windshield on his belly. A rotted hand grabbed his ankle, and he kicked and flailed, hands squeaking against the car as he struggled to get back up on top.

  There was a hard thump as Dante landed on the roof, the vehicle bowing under the impact. He grabbed Ace’s arm and heaved, dragging his body up on top of the car. The zombie came with him, but at least its mouth wasn’t within biting distance, and Dante fired once with his handgun to end the creature.

  Ace disengaged the ghoul’s grip and got to his feet carefully, the two of them standing back to back on the car.

  “We should be able to take the last of ‘em out from this one, but if not we’ll make the jump down the next two,” Dante said, and the redneck nodded.

  “Thanks, man,” he said.

  “Anytime,” Dante replied, and then swung down, stabbing a zombie.

  Ace followed suit, vigor renewed after his adrenaline-fueled near death, and soon there were only three zombies left, struggling to clamber over their fallen pack.

  Dante bent his knees and then jumped, his feet hitting the lead one in the chest, knocking it back into its companions. Ace slid down the back of the car and joined him in lunging down to stab the zombies before they could struggle to their feet.

  Once finished, the two men stood and admired their pile of bodies, more than a little shell-shocked at how the whole thing had gone down.

  At the sound of a door slamming, they turned towards Brandt, who was shaking his head, face pale. “We gotta get out of here,” he said.

  Ace rolled his eyes. “Plans don’t change just cause a few zombies show up,” he drawled. “We still gotta take out those QXR assholes.”

  “Did the one that reanimated have his gun on him?” Dante asked, inclining his head to the SUV.

  “They took it,” Ace replied, shaking his head. “We going back into town, then?”

  The larger man nodded. “We’ll have to get to the bike, once we take care of these guys,” he suggested.

  “Good call,” Ace agreed, and pocketed his knife, keeping his shotgun at the ready.

  As the trio came up to the main road, the sound of squealing tires rose in the air, and they pressed themselves against a building on the corner. A bullet exploded the brick above their heads, and they ducked and dove.

  Brandt and Ace lunged behind a dumpster,
while Dante darted around the corner. He spotted an SUV skidding out, having spotted him and in the process of turning around. He ran full-tilt across the road and into an alleyway, coming face to face with a pack of five zombies.

  They shrieked when they spotted him, but he didn’t let it faze him, simply dropped his shoulder and took a run. He slammed into the first ghoul’s torso, pushing off of the ground so that it flew back into its brethren. He fired twice, hitting one in the face and another in the throat, and then ran overtop of them, using a chest as a stepping stone to leap clear of the writhing group.

  Once on the other side, he tore down the alley and hung a right, skidding at the sight of a thick copse of corpses. He darted to the right and clambered up on top of a closed dumpster, just as more shots rang out.

  Can’t catch a fuckin’ break, he thought as he whipped around, aiming behind him. There was a blur of black as a mercenary ducked behind a building on the far end. Zombies swarmed the dumpster, reaching up and attempting to grab his ankles. He didn’t like how out in the open he was, but it couldn’t be helped at this point.

  If his opponent fired enough times, he hoped that the ghouls would go that way, but he couldn’t count on it.

  As soon as a head popped out from around the corner, he fired, missing, but sending the mercenary back behind cover. He chanced looking around to find a way out of his predicament and spotted a ladder across the alley that led up to the roof of one of the main road buildings. He glanced back towards the mercenary, waiting for him to come back.

  He didn’t often commiserate on missing an eye, but this was one of those moments when he wished he had more peripheral vision so he could calculate the odds of his jump while also keeping watch on his enemy.

  More gunfire echoed from the road, and he hoped that Ace was okay if he was fighting the rest of the QXR goons that had skidded up the main road.

  A head popped out from the corner and he fired again, loathe to waste the bullets considering the distance, but it covered him enough that he made the snap decision to make the jump. He backed up against the wall and took a deep breath, running and pushing as hard as he could off of the edge of the dumpster.

  A three-round burst whizzed past him, one narrowly missing his nose as he flew through the air. He didn’t flinch for fear of missing the ladder and managed to grab onto a rung with one hand. He maniacally shoved his gun in the back of his pants, next to the shotgun that was slipping down his pant leg and making it difficult to climb. He quickly gripped the rungs as another three-round burst came his way and hooked a foot up as high as he could.

  Something gripped his other ankle, and he kicked wildly, booting a zombie in the face.

  A few ghouls from the pack tore off in the direction of the gunman, and the mercenary focused his fire on them, giving Dante an opening to try to dislodge his leg without worrying about being shot. He finally managed to disengage the rotted arm and hauled himself up the ladder as fast as he could.

  The zombies quickly lost interest in him as the mercenary continued to fire, and Dante made it to the roof. He ran across as fast as he could, heart pounding at his series of near-deaths, and crouched when he reached the front edge.

  There was more gunfire in the street, and he peered over the edge. The SUV had been abandoned, and four mercenaries stalked towards an alley across the street where, presumably, Ace and Brandt were.

  Dante took aim with his handgun, carefully focusing on the head of one of the guys in the back of the quartet. He fired, and managed to clip his target in the shoulder, and the entire pack whipped around. Before he could aim again, one of them spotted him.

  “The roof!” the mercenary screamed, and all three not injured pointed their assault rifles at him.

  He jerked back from the edge as bullets peppered the tip of the building. Hopefully he’d given Ace and Brandt enough of an opening to regroup. He crawled away from the edge and then stood up into a crouch, heading down the row of buildings. The downtown core was a strip of buildings, so the roofs all connected, and he was hoping he could find a way down in a strategic space.

  The shotgun wasn’t going to do well at long range—what would be ideal would be to grab a fallen mercenary’s assault rifle. He skidded to a stop and changed directions, heading back towards the building where the soldier had been firing at him while he was on the dumpster.

  He had to hop the alley that he’d run down when he was outrunning the SUV, but it wasn’t too big of a gap, and then he crouched, creeping to the edge of the building. He heard moans, but no gunfire, and looked down to see them feasting on the mercenary. While he was happy the ghouls were doing his job for him, it would be difficult getting a gun off of a fresh zombie.

  Some of them were slowing down, it seemed, but the newly reanimated ones were at full steam. Dante shook his head and then moved to the front of the building, taking stock of what the other four were up to.

  Nobody was on the main road, save for a few ghouls tearing across the street to the alley the mercenaries had been fighting with. He looked down at a series of metal bars holding the sign out front of the building and spotted a busted sedan beneath it on the sidewalk.

  Dante hooked his legs over the side of the roof, balancing on one of the bars and testing its sturdiness. Satisfied, he crouched and wrapped his hands around it, lowering his feet to one of the bottom ones. He managed to climb down and hang, with only a few feet between his boots and the sedan.

  He dropped down, but as soon as his boots clanged on the car, moans erupted, and zombies swarmed from around the building.

  Dante pushed off of the car, sliding down to the road and pumping his legs. The shotgun clattered to the ground behind him, but he left it, glancing over his shoulder at the horde of ghouls chasing him. He made sure the handgun was secure as he ran, and dove through an open door, pulling it shut behind him. He threw the deadbolt, wincing as the bodies slamming into it on the other side made it groan.

  As he turned around to sweep whatever store he’d ended up in, a body slammed into him. It didn’t smell like death, only blood, and the angry grunt that came from its mouth told him it was a life human, not a zombie.

  “I’m going to skin you alive, pretty boy,” the mercenary snarled, his fist connecting with Dante’s face.

  When he regained himself from the surprise of the attack, Dante wedged his knee up between them, pushing hard against the soldier’s gut. He scrambled to draw his knife, but he couldn’t reach down, so settled on gripping the man’s throat.

  They tussled on the ground for a few moments until the mercenary managed to jab Dante into the side enough times to wind him.

  His grip loosened on his attacker’s neck, allowing an opening for another brutal blow to his face. He swung wildly, and gave a great heave with his knee, managing to connect with his attacker’s ear and throw him off.

  As he gasped for breath, he managed to draw his knife, backing up enough to regain his senses before they met again.

  The mercenary didn’t waste time, throwing himself back towards Dante, who raised his blade at just the right time to drive it into flesh. He didn’t hit a vital organ, unfortunately, but buried it deep enough into the man’s shoulder that it distracted him with a scream of pain.

  Dante twisted the knife and then drew it quickly, shoving the mercenary back and then slashing across his throat. As his opponent gurgled and choked, he stabbed him through the eye socket, not wanting to take a chance that he’d been bitten.

  The mercenary’s lifeless body crumpled, and the door began to buckle beneath the weight of the ghouls outside. Dante rushed for the back of the store, now realizing it was full of candy. He had the vague thought that under different circumstances, he would have loved to collect up some watermelon gummies for Grace, and then marveled at how random his thought process could be in times of stress.

  He found the back door just as the front began to crack under the pressure and inched it open. He spotted one lone zombie a few feet away and didn’t h
ear any gunfire. The sound of glass and wood shattering from the front of the store spurred him on, and he burst into the alleyway, lunging to bury his knife into the back of the ghoul’s head.

  Gunfire cracked in the distance, and he hopped the fallen corpse, running down the alleyway to try to find his companions.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As Dante took off into the town, Ace tried to find the source of their shooter. Gunfire followed Dante, and the redneck smacked Brandt’s shoulder.

  “Come on, let’s go around back to the next alley over and flank ‘em,” he hissed, and then took off at a run, not waiting to see if the Sheriff followed.

  He did, however, and they tore around the back of the building, stopping at the corner to the alley to peek around. He caught sight of the glint of an SUV, and the back of a mercenary’s head.

  Ace headed down the alleyway, aiming his shotgun as he got closer and closer, hoping to get close enough to fire at a useful range. Halfway down the alley, the mercenary turned around and raised his assault rifle.

  Ace fired despite being too far away and then ducked behind a cluster of trash cans to take cover from the return fire.

  “Down here!” the mercenary yelled.

  Brandt ran towards Ace, eyes panicked, and then did a baseball slide to join him behind the cans. A pack of ghouls was on his tail, pouring into the alley from the back.

  “Shit,” Ace said brightly. They were boxed in, flesh-eating corpses on one side, a quartet of crazed soldiers on the other. He looked up over the top of the cans, narrowly missing more bullets, and spotted a metal door just on the other side across the alley. “We gotta get in that building,” he said.

  “How the fuck are we gonna do that?” Brandt barked and fired his shotgun into the oncoming horde. He blew apart the top half of one ghoul, tripping up a few behind it.

  Ace popped up as the assault rifle bursts stopped, and fired at the mercenaries, who took cover around the corners of the mouth of the alley. He fired again, darting for the door, and pulled on it, willing it to be unlocked.