Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12

by Slaton, Derek

  Terrell cracked a smile at his balls, but didn’t break eye contact. “So, is Benson really a hardened target?”

  “One hundred percent,” the prisoner replied. “The Boss is really keen on protecting what he has, so he keeps his best men close. Ex-military, cops, and hell, pretty sure we have a couple of MMA fighters as well. If you try to pull what you pulled here, you won’t see the sun come up tomorrow.”

  Terrell studied the man before uncocking his gun and holstering it. As he did, he looked over and spotted Coleman walking up the road towards them.

  “Miles, if they move,” the Captain said, “put ‘em down like dogs.”

  Miles nodded. “You got it, Cap,” he replied, and stepped up.

  “How we looking?” Coleman asked.

  “We’re fine here,” Terrell replied, motioning vaguely to the prisoners. “But it sounds like their camp is another story.”

  The sniper crossed his arms. “How bad?”

  “According to our boy over there, they have a small army of military, cops, and MMA fighters. So brute force is probably out,” Terrell replied.

  Coleman cocked his head. “You believe him?”

  “Sadly, I do,” the Captain admitted.

  Coleman shook his head in disgust as the two of them walked back over to the group.

  “So what are we doing, Cap?” Miles asked.

  Terrell took a deep breath. “Still thinking on that one.”

  “I mean,” Miles said, inclining his head towards the prisoners, “what are we going to do with them?”

  Terrell glanced at Coleman, and the sniper shrugged.

  “Don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m not exactly keen on executing prisoners.”

  The Captain grimaced, understanding in the tone that it was a slight against him for opening fire on three captives yesterday, whether it was an intentional prisoner execution or not.

  Coleman’s brow furrowed. “Cap, no judgement about yesterday,” he insisted, putting up his palms. “Emotions were raw, not going to fault you or anybody for that.”

  Terrell nodded in appreciation for the gesture, and then pursed his lips, heading over to the prisoner he’d been talking to. “Here’s the deal,” he finally said. “You keep telling me the truth, and you and your friends just might live through the day.”

  “I can manage that,” the prisoner replied, raising his chin.

  Terrell crossed his arms. “When are you expected back?”

  “Five PM,” the prisoner replied.

  The Captain reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting the watch on his arm around to face him. “So four hours.”

  “Give or take,” the prisoner replied. “If we’re not back by five thirty, someone is bound to come looking for us.”

  Terrell nodded. “All right.” He stepped away, facing his companions. “I say we lock them up tight and throw away the key. If he’s telling the truth, they’ll come get them.”

  “So what’s the plan for their camp?” Coleman asked.

  Terrell looked around the town, finally focusing in on the clothing store. He saw a display in the window with some blood splatter on it, sparking an idea. He walked over to it, stepping through the window and disappearing into the store.

  Coleman and Miles shared a confused glance, but waited quietly.

  A few moments later, Terrell emerged with a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He walked over to the roundabout infield, dropping the clothes onto the ground and jumping up and down on top of them. He smooshed them into the dirt, and then pulled his knife, kneeling to slash a few holes in the jeans and shirt before coming back over to the group with his tattered outfit.

  “Still not following, Cap,” Coleman admitted.

  Terrell held up the clothes. “Since a frontal assault isn’t feasible, I’m just going to walk in through the front door.” He smirked. “As a down on his luck farm boy who has been surviving on his own this whole time.”

  Coleman shook his head immediately.

  “Oh come on,” Terrell said, lowering his arm in exasperation. “You know it’s a good plan.”

  The sniper raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s our only plan,” he said dryly, “not sure I’d call it a good one.”

  The Captain cracked a smile. “I’m gonna go get changed,” he said, and motioned to the prisoners. “You get them locked up and we’ll hit the road.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Terrell stopped the SUV a mile short of Benson, pulling into a gas station parking lot. He got out in his dirtied-up clothes, taking out his knife and slicing the upper part of his arm.

  “Jesus, Cap,” Coleman blurted.

  He shrugged as he sheathed the knife. “Gotta play on their sympathies, and they might be more willing to take me in,” he said.

  Coleman sighed. “So? What’s the plan?”

  “Just going to get in there and scout it out,” the Captain replied. “Figure out how strong they are, try to find a weak spot to exploit, and most importantly, try to find out where they have our nitrate.”

  Coleman nodded and scratched the back of his head. “And where do you want to rendezvous if this goes sideways?’ he asked.

  “Backtrack an exit on the interstate,” Terrell instructed. “There was a truck stop on the corner.”

  The sniper nodded again and took a deep breath. “We’ll stay out of sight until we hear from you.”

  “Or if the sun goes down,” Terrell said firmly.

  Coleman’s gaze darkened. “Cap, we aren’t leaving you here.”

  “If I’m not out by sundown, then you need to get back to town,” the Captain insisted. “You saw what they were planning, and if they have more trained men here…” He trailed off.

  Coleman sighed. “Then hopefully Miles and I can take a few of them out before we get overrun.”

  “Love the optimism, soldier,” Terrell said dryly.

  The sniper grinned. “Learned it from the best,” he said.

  The two men chuckled and exchanged a fist bump. Terrell waved to Miles, who nodded, and then Coleman drove off.

  Once they were out of sight, Terrell headed up to the gas station, stepping through the broken window in the front. He smeared a little blood on one of the shards, just as a failsafe, so that if they asked where he got the cut, he could point it out.

  After setting up his potential ruse, he grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, one of the last remaining ones. He drank half and then poured some over his wounds, sending bloody water down his clothes to stain them.

  “Well, better get hiking,” he said to himself, and then headed back outside towards Benson. It felt strange, being in these clothes, in the middle of the road, with no weapons other than his trusty knife.

  He walked at a brisk pace, but did his best to look disheveled, not wanting people to think he was in top shape if anyone happened to see him. He looked up at the sign that read Benson - 1 Mile.

  With so much time to himself as he walked, the memory of yesterday crept back into the forefront of his mind, haunting him. He replayed over and over Walter being shot, but also him shooting up the prisoners with nothing else but his rage driving him.

  The first memory hurt. The second crushed him.

  You really fucked up yesterday, man, he thought to himself. Not only did you let that boy die due to your own stupidity, but you let your emotions get the better of you. You murdered three men, three prisoners. You can’t be doing that kind of shit, no matter what happens. He shook his head. And what about Coleman and Miles? They going to keep following you after this threat is over? Would you follow you? You gotta clean this shit up before it gets out of control.

  He snapped out of his reverie when he realized he’d reached the town. He came over a hill and saw the little community in the distance. At a glance, it looked to be the same size as Clinton, but it looked more like a rich neighborhood compared to a poor one.

  Every road was blockaded with welded fencing. There were several armed guards on top of every
post, as well as the buildings. There were also dozens of corpses on the ground around the perimeter, putting Terrell on notice.

  Might want to raise your hands and wave as you approach, he thought. They might see blood and put you down without questioning it.

  He immediately put his arms in the air, waving them side to side as he walked the final few hundred yards to the gate. As he approached, he could see one of the guards on the roof pull out a radio and call something in. When he reached twenty yards, one of the guards put up a hand.

  “Would you mind stopping right there for me?” he asked, firmly but politely.

  Terrell stopped, hands still in the air. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, keeping his voice less commanding than usual. “Think it would be okay for me to put my hands down?”

  “I never asked you to put them up,” the guard replied with a shrug.

  Terrell motioned to the dead zombies scattered about. “I saw your handiwork and didn’t want to end up like these folks,” he said.

  “I know you aren’t trying to eat us, so you’re good,” the guard replied, motioning to him.,

  Terrell lowered his hands and the metal gate unlatched. It squeaked open and two men with handguns in their holsters stepped out, flanking a young man. He looked to be about thirty, with dark hair and a medium build. He wore glasses, and pushed them up his nose with a friendly smile.

  “Hi there, welcome to Benson,” he greeted with a soft, welcoming voice. “My name’s Tommy, what’s yours?”

  Terrell scratched at his arm where the knife wound was visible. “You can call me Zeke,” he said, just in case someone in town had heard his name.

  “Good to meet you, Zeke,” Tommy replied, and then motioned to the town behind him. “So what brings you our way?”

  Terrell shook his head. “Honestly, I had no idea anybody was out here,” he said. “I’ve been wandering around these parts for weeks, looking for anything to help me survive.”

  “Been on your own for weeks?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Where are you from?”

  Terrell motioned vaguely behind him. “Little town outside of Charlotte.”

  “Long way from home, huh?” Tommy asked, cocking his head. “How did you end up here?”

  Terrell gazed at the ground, shaking his head. “Bad luck, really,” he said. “I was driving home from the Outer Banks when this stuff started. Wrecked my car and just kind of gave up trying to get back home. Figured if it was this bad here, I could only imagine how bad it was back there.”

  “Well, you are certainly lucky to be here,” Tommy replied, and though his words were friendly he looked the Captain up and down. He focused in on the injured arm. “That looks kind of nasty,” he said, pointing. “What happened?”

  Terrell lifted his arm. “Just got this, actually,” he said. “Your gas station up the road there. I was clumsy going through the window and ended up slicing my arm pretty good.” He held it out, and Tommy headed up to inspect it. He turned towards one of the guards and waved at him.

  “Go check it out,” Tommy said, and motioned to the gas station. The guard nodded and headed off, leaving Terrell glad he’d taken extra precaution.

  Staying in character, he blinked at the man. “Do you think I’m lying?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing personal, I assure you,” Tommy said, holding up his hands. “We don’t mind bringing in new people to our little community, but we have to ensure our citizen’s safety. If that were a bite instead of a cut, it could be really bad.”

  Terrell nodded thoughtfully. “All right, I’ll buy that,” he said. “I mean, if you want to have your doctor check the wound, I’m all for it. Frankly it would be nice to have it stop bleeding all over me.”

  Tommy regarded him again, sizing him up, and then finally nodded. “Of course, where are my manners?” he said. “I’d be happy to take you to our doctor. But a couple of ground rules before you come in.”

  “Your house, your rules,” Terrell said, putting up a hand. “No problem.”

  “If that turns out to be a bite,” Tommy said, motioning to his wound, “or if you have a bite on you, my friend here will execute you on the spot.”

  Terrell nodded. “Sound plan.”

  “I’m also going to have to ask you to turn over any weapons you might have,” he said. “If we find that you are trustworthy and invite you to say, you’ll have an opportunity to earn them back.”

  Terrell’s brow furrowed. “Earn them back?”

  “Yes, we have some of the finest warriors in the country residing in our fair town,” Tommy said proudly. “And if you are so inclined, you'll be given the opportunity to try out for our security force. It’s rigorous, but you look like you can handle yourself. Especially if you’ve been out here on your own this entire time.”

  Terrell nodded at the compliment, offering a smile.

  “Excuse me just for a moment,” Tommy said as his walkie-talkie chirped. He held it up to his ear for a beat, and then clicked the button. “Thank you, come on back,” he said, and turned to Terrell. “Well, looks like your story checks out. Now, what do you say we get you to the doctor?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Terrell followed Tommy and the guard into Benson as the gate closed behind them. He looked back and noted three heavily armed guards with assault rifles and combat gear locking it up.

  “Man, you boys aren’t messing around, are you?” he asked.

  Tommy shook his head. “No sir, we take the health and safety of our community very seriously,” he replied.

  He led them down the block, lined with various storefronts, most of them open. There were a few general stores with various goods, a hardware store, and even a candy store. A couple of young girls, maybe nine or ten, came out of there each holding a candy bar, excitedly skipping along. Terrell blinked in surprise at how normal it all seemed, as if this weren’t the apocalypse. There was no adult escort, just two kids getting candy together.

  There were several civilians wandering around, not in combat gear or carrying weapons of any kind, just going about their day of downtown shopping. It was surreal.

  “Looks like the apocalypse just bypassed this town,” he said.

  Tommy took a deep breath. “Don't let the quaint small town life fool you,” he said, leaning in a little. “A lot of blood sweat and tears have gone into making this a reality.”

  “Having some troubles are you?” Terrell asked innocently.

  His guide nodded. “You could say that.” He led them up to a storefront on the corner. In a previous life it looked like it had been an electronics store, but as they approached it seemed to have been turned into a makeshift doctor’s office. Tommy opened the door and headed inside.

  As Terrell followed him in, a twenty something blonde woman in nurse’s scrubs greeted them.

  “Hi Tommy,” she said with a smile. “Who is your friend here?”

  He stepped aside and motioned to Terrell. “This is Zeke, and he needs some stitches and a quick once over for bites.”

  “I think we can handle that,” she said, and waved the newcomer forward. “Zeke, why don’t you follow me to the back and we’ll get you fixed right up?”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Terrell said politely, and shot her a thousand-watt smile, turning the charm up to eleven. He mentally patted himself on the back as she blushed a little before turning to lead him to the back room.

  The nurse patted an empty padded chair, motioning for him to sit while she retrieved a tray of supplies to stitch him up.

  “So,” Terrell said as he sat down, “it looks like things are pretty nice here. Definitely a lot nicer than any other place I’ve come across.”

  She nodded as she pulled up a rolling stool next to him. “Oh, it’s fantastic here,” she replied. “Sure, we don’t have much in the way of power or some of the other creature comforts of old, but we can lay our heads down at night and not have to worry about anything coming to get us.” She paused as she picked up a set of angled pliers. �
��Well… for the most part.”

  He studied her worried gaze as she picked up a curved needle, and offered her another smile. “I wouldn’t worry,” he said gently, “it looks like this place is locked up tighter than a Catholic school-” he paused, the end of that thought being girl on prom night, but that didn’t seem appropriate given his current audience. “During the summer,” he finished lamely.

  She didn’t pay much attention to his hesitation, focusing on threading the needle. She began to stitch him up, lips pursed in concentration, and he hid his wince at the pain of the metal breaking his flesh.

  “Well,” she finally said as she got into a rhythm, “there are some bad people out there that want to do us harm.”

  Terrell raised an eyebrow, cocking a sly smile. “Who would want to do a pretty girl like you harm?” he drawled. “You point them out to me and I’ll take care of them.”

  She blushed again, and shook her head. “Not me personally,” she clarified as she kept stitching. “Just everyone in our town.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked softly.

  “There’s…” she paused her movements, tightening the thread. “There’s this other community out there that’s been hunting down and killing anyone who dares to leave our town.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re pulling my leg.”

  “No, I’m serious,” she insisted, meeting his gaze. “They’ve killed a lot of people.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they want everything we have,” she said, swallowing hard. “They keep stealing goods from all of the stores, hoarding it for themselves. And if anybody dares to confront them…” She shook her head. “Pop. Bullet to the head.”

  Terrell chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, conflicted feelings bouncing around in his chest. On one hand, he knew he’d done a lot of killing, but for the most part it felt justified because they’d started it first.

  “Well,” he finally said, “hopefully somebody can put an end to those hostilities. Seems like a crime to keep a pretty girl like you up at night worrying.”