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

by Slaton, Derek

  “Just doing our part,” Terrell said as they shook.

  Coleman and Miles waved at him as he wandered off towards one of the food stands.

  Angie’s brow furrowed. “Your friend not coming?”

  “Nah, he’s better off here,” Terrell replied, shaking his head.

  She nodded and then let out a sharp whistle. A young man in khakis and a polo shirt by one of the baking stands perked up, looking over at her.

  “Can you get Chucky some food and show him around?” she called, and he shot her a thumbs up before heading for the portly man. She clapped her hands and turned back to the soldiers. “Okay, off to Edgar we go!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Angie opened the door to a small insurance office on Main Street. It looked like it was built in the forties and had never been updated, with original brick and everything.

  “This… doesn’t look like the office of a town leader,” Coleman mused.

  The blonde tilted her head back and forth. “Edgar is a bit old-fashioned, and humble,” she explained. “He believes a community leader should be among the people instead of above them, which is why his office is here.”

  The sniper nodded, impressed. “All right, I’ll buy that,” he said.

  Angie led the three of them to the back office, knocking on the wood and glass door.

  After a moment, a male voice from inside called, “Come on in.”

  She opened the door and ushered the soldiers inside. Edgar looked up from behind an oak desk. He looked about twenty-five, with black shaggy hair and a vintage Judas Priest t-shirt. He grinned wide, showing straight white teeth.

  “Hey Angie, you bring by some new friends?” he asked.

  She motioned to the trio. “Well, I was giving Terrell, Coleman, and Miles the tour, and they just couldn’t wait to meet you,” she said.

  The soldiers exchanged surprised looks at their jovial exchange.

  “Is that a fact?” Edgar asked brightly, and waved them in. “Well, come on in and have a seat. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  They sat down in the comfortable chairs across from his desk, still confused and unsure of what to say.

  “Believe it or not, I totally understand the look on your faces,” Edgar said, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. “If I were in your shoes, I would be doing the exact same thing. Before everything took a turn for the worse, I was the mayor of this town.”

  The soldiers chuckled, raising their eyebrows in disbelief. The man leaned back and pointed to a framed newspaper article on the wall that boasted Twenty-four year old insurance broker wins mayoral election!

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Terrell muttered.

  “Yeah, it was kinda crazy,” Edgar admitted, running his hands through his messy hair. “My father and I would always talk about ways to better the town, and finally one day he told me to put up or shut up, so I ran against the six-time incumbent. I had no illusions of winning, until it was discovered that he forgot to pay the registration fee, which meant I was suddenly running unopposed. Less than a year later, the apocalypse happens and everybody is looking to me.” He shook his head and laughed. “Guess we can file this under, be careful what you wish for.”

  Miles crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Gotta love these small town elections, huh?” he asked.

  “No kidding,” Edgar replied.

  “Well, it looks like you’re doing a bang up job here,” Coleman said.

  The mayor smiled. “Well, I do appreciate that,” he said. “Now, what can I do for you boys?”

  “You need to turn off your broadcast,” Terrell said simply.

  Edgar blinked at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “but it’s paid a lot of dividends already. We’ve rescued fifteen people in the last day alone, families with children who have been riding this out alone now have a home because they heard our call.”

  “You need to turn off your broadcast,” Terrell said firmly.

  Edgar stared into those eyes of steel, and swallowed hard, worry etched on his face. “Can you tell me why?” he asked.

  “Because there are bad people who would do bad things to this community if they knew it existed,” the Captain replied.

  Edgar raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you saw, but we have guards.”

  “So did the last town we came from,” Terrell explained. “Now they’ve been overrun by someone who has no problem killing and maiming to get what he wants.”

  The mayor pursed his lips, contemplating for a moment. “But what about the good people out there?” he asked. “Likes those families, and you guys?”

  “You can set up safe houses far from here,” Terrell explained, “check the people out before bringing them here. If you truly want to protect your people, you need to realize there are others out there who want to do you harm.”

  Edgar paused, and then took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to help us set that up?” he asked.

  “It’s not outside the realm of possibility,” the Captain replied.

  The mayor nodded firmly. “Good,” he replied. “Well, I’ll go tell my radio operator to cut off that broadcast immediately until we can get it set up.”

  The office door suddenly flung open, a panicked man rushing inside.

  “Well, speak of the devil,” Edgar said, and then his brow furrowed at the look on his associate’s face. “What’s going on?”

  The radio operator looked at the trio, and then back at the mayor.

  “It’s okay, they’re friends,” Edgar assured him.

  “That…” the operator huffed, “that trading group from Bluffton that was heading up here is in trouble. They just radioed in that they’re under attack.”

  “Under attack?” Edgar demanded. “From who? Or what?”

  “I don’t know,” the operator replied, shaking his head frantically. “I just heard gunshots and they were crying out for help.”

  Terrell got to his feet. “Where?”

  “Adam’s Landing,” the operator replied.

  “Where the hell is that?” the Captain demanded.

  “It’s about an hour south of here, straight down the interstate,” the operator replied.

  Terrell nodded. “Radio them back and tell them help is on the way,” he said.

  “I can send my people if you want me to,” Edgar said, holding up a hand.

  Terrell shook his head. “Nah, this is what we do,” he replied.

  “Is there anything you need?” the mayor asked.

  Coleman raised his hand as he stood. “I could use a sniper rifle,” he replied. “Really anything with a scope will do.”

  “You’ll have it,” Edgar promised, and picked up a walkie talkie from his desk. “Front gate, come in,” he said.

  The radio crackled back, “Front gate.”

  “I need a scoped rifle with an ammo kit waiting at the gate ASAP,” Edgar instructed.

  The voice on the other end replied, “We’ll be ready.”

  “After you, gentlemen,” Edgar said, motioning for the door.

  Terrell led the group out, the mayor included, moving with determination. They walked silently through the town, back towards the front gate. As they approached, one of the guards walked over to them with a high end sniper rifle and ammunition bag.

  Edgar pointed to Coleman. “This gentleman will be taking it,” he said.

  The sniper grabbed the weapon and admired it. “This looks like military grade stuff,” he said in awe.

  “What can I say,” Edgar replied with a little shrug, “we don’t skimp on the essentials here.”

  Terrell extended his hand to the mayor and they shook. “We’ll be in touch,” he said.

  “Be safe,” Edgar said. “We’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The SUV tore down the interstate towards Adam’s Landing. As they approached the small town on Lake Marion, they saw people huddled together behind two vehicles in the middle of the road. Every now an
d then, one of them would pop up from behind cover and squeeze off a few shots before ducking back down.

  “Looks like this is the place,” Coleman muttered.

  Terrell nodded. “Park behind them.”

  Coleman pulled up and screeched to a stop, and the trio got out. Some of the people turned back and looked at them with relief. The leader, a tall lanky twenty something with black greasy hair, stepped forward.

  “You the people from Florence?” he asked.

  Terrell nodded. “That’s us.”

  “Thank fucking Christ!” the guy blurted. “I was starting to run out of ammo.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Coleman asked as he checked his rifle.

  The guy shook his head. “It’s a long ass story, but the immediate news flash is that there are a bunch of assholes that followed us from Bluffton who want us dead,” he explained. “They started firing at us about thirty miles back. So when we crossed this bridge, we decided to make a stand.”

  “Caught them in a choke point,” Coleman mused, nodding in appreciation. “Not a bad move.”

  The guy shrugged. “Well, I was hoping they’d give up and head back, but they’ve been persistent as a rash,” he said. “Pretty sure I caught one of them in the chest, but all that did was piss them off.”

  Terrell looked over the hood of the SUV, seeing three vehicles in the distance. Sunlight glinted off of gun barrels and he frowned.

  “Anything you can tell me about them?” he asked.

  “Fuck man, I don’t know,” the greasy guy replied, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve heard rumors that they’re mercenaries or some shit. All I know is that they have some badass gear and they know how to use it.”

  The Captain turned back to his companions.

  “Mercs, huh?” Coleman asked as a few more shots rang out from both sides.

  Miles pursed his lips. “I’d bet ex-military for sure.”

  “Think they still have respect for Commanding Officers?” Coleman asked, inclining his head to Terrell.

  The Captain took a deep breath. “One way to find out.” He turned to the leader. “I need your shirt.”

  “The fuck you talkin’ about?” the guy demanded.

  Terrell motioned to his white beater. “I need something white to fly.”

  “You drove all this way to surrender?” came the terse reply. “Shit man, I coulda done that.”

  Terrell cocked his head. “Just trust me,” he said firmly, and the leader shook his head as the others looked on, confused. “This man is named Coleman,” Terrell declared, pointing at the sniper. “Nobody fires another shot until he does. Everybody clear on that?”

  The people nodded, arms relaxing.

  “Good,” Terrell replied, and then turned to his companion. “If this goes south-”

  Coleman nodded, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah, I know, kill ‘em all,” he replied. “You’re getting predictable, Cap.”

  Terrell cracked a smile and they exchanged a fist bump. “Here goes nothing,” he said as he took the leader’s offered shirt. He raised the garment over his head, waving it around furiously from behind the SUV. When no shots came his way, he slowly stood up while still holding it high.

  He moved out from behind the vehicle, shoulders tense as he approached the enemy row of SUVs. When he reached about halfway, another lone figure came out from behind cover, heading towards him. They stopped a few yards away from one another, sizing each other up.

  “Don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” the gunman said in a deep voice, sun glinting off of his shaved head topping full combat gear with a tactical vest.

  “Sorry, I was a little late to the party,” Terrell replied, finally lowering his flag arm.

  The man shook his head. “No apologies necessary,” he said. “I’ll just assume your invite got lost in the mail.”

  “Appreciate the courtesy,” the Captain replied dryly.

  “Mind telling me who you are?” the man asked, shifting his weight to one hip.

  Terrell nodded. “I’m Captain Terrell Graham,” he said.

  “Captain, huh?” the guy asked, looking him up and down. “By the looks of you, I’m guessing Marines?”

  Terrell raised an eyebrow. “Delta, actually.”

  “Delta, huh?” the guy nodded thoughtfully, eyes widening a bit as if impressed. “I don’t say this about a lot of people, but you boys are some bonafide badasses. Ran a couple of missions with some of your friends over in the sandbox. At first I was kind of insulted we were only in a support role, but after seeing what you could do, goddamn. It was like having court side tickets to watch Jordan play. Just magical.”

  Terrell chuckled. “Appreciate the compliment,” he replied. “So, you spent some time in the sandbox, huh?”

  “Did three tours for Uncle Sam, and another two tours with my current employer,” the man explained. “I’ll let you guess who paid better.”

  The Captain sighed. “I’ve seen my bank statements, I don’t have to guess,” he agreed.

  “Crazy world, huh?” the man replied with a chuckle, shaking his head. “One day we’re fighting insurgents in the desert half a world away, and today we’re on opposite sides of a bridge in a zombie apocalypse.”

  Terrell nodded, sharing the dark chuckle. “Crazy is one word for it.”

  “So, Captain,” the man said, spreading his arms. “You tell me what I can do for you.”

  Terrell jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “These kids you’re chasing,” he began. “Now, I don’t know what they did to piss you off, or what your employer told you to do, but I would very much appreciate it if you’d let them come with us. The people who asked me to negotiate on their behalf seem very eager to have them arrive in one piece.”

  The man stroked his chin, contemplating. “You’re gonna be putting me in a tough spot there, Captain,” he finally said.

  “I have no doubt,” Terrell replied, putting up his palms. “Which is why I’ll consider it a personal favor.”

  The gunman nodded. “I can live with that,” he agreed. “I have a lot of respect for Delta and what they went through over there. So you can take them.”

  “Appreciated,” Terrell said.

  “However,” the man continued, putting up a hand, “you should know that there are others who work for my employer who don’t care about anything that took place before this shitstorm started. So it would be in your best interest to steer clear of Hilton Head Island and the rest of the Lowcountry for that matter.”

  “If I didn’t know better,” Terrell replied, pursing his lips, “I would think that was a threat.”

  The man shook his head. “No sir, not a threat,” he insisted. “Just a warning. The men under my command share my sentiments. However, I only have a very small command.”

  Terrell nodded his understanding. He extended his hand, and they shook. “Good luck to you with your employer,” he said.

  “Good luck to you too, Captain,” the man replied, and they broke away, heading back to their respective lines.

  As Terrell reached the line of cars, he tossed the beater back to the shirtless leader.

  “What the hell just happened?” the greasy guy asked as he pulled his shirt back on.

  Terrell crossed his arms. “I talked us out of a bad situation.”

  “So they’re just gonna let us go?” the guy demanded, eyes narrowed.

  “Yep, so let’s get loaded up,” Terrell replied, and the group scrambled to pile into their vehicles.

  “Military?” Coleman asked.

  Terrell nodded. “Yep, and lucky for me, he worked support for Delta a few times.”

  “So he knew not to fuck with us, huh?” the sniper asked, amused.

  The Captain shrugged. “Not sure if it was that, or genuine respect,” he admitted. “Either way, we dodged a bullet.”

  “Well, let’s get back to town then,” Coleman said, “I’m getting hungry.”

  “You two go ahead,” Terrell said, waving at
them. “I’m gonna ride back with this guy.”

  The greasy-haired leader overheard, and then let out a sharp whistle to the guy getting into his passenger seat. “Yo, get in the back,” he called. “This man’s got shotgun.”

  Terrell cracked a smile as he skirted the SUV.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The leader, who’s name turned out to be Maddox, drove back to Florence with Terrell in tow, and a few guys in the back seat.

  “Man, I don’t know what you said to that douchebag, but we can’t thank you enough,” the driver said.

  Terrell nodded. “So what are y’all going to Florence for?”

  “Just dropping off some of my… ahem… special smokable blend,” Maddox replied, a light blush rising on his cheeks. “Cut a deal with the mayor for some weapons and other supplies.”

  Terrell cocked his head. “This have something to do with Hilton Head Island?”

  A tense silence fell over the vehicle, and then finally Maddox swallowed hard.

  “What do you know about Hilton head?” he asked.

  Terrell shook his head. “Not much, though I was just warned to stay away from it.”

  “Well, you’re a badass,” Maddox said with a dark laugh, “so it’s not a surprise they’d want to keep you away from their little dictatorship.”

  Terrell furrowed his brow. “Dictatorship?” he asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Before the end, Hilton Head was a rich folks retreat,” Maddox explained. “Lot of wealthy New Yorkers and other northerners would come down for the summer and take it over. Just so happened that a lot of them were in town for a winter getaway when things went bad, so they took over the island.”

  The Captain blinked in surprise. “With a handful of ex-military mercenaries?”

  “They have a small army,” Maddox replied, shaking his head. “A hundred, maybe even hundreds, don’t know for sure. Frankly, none of us has really wanted to get close enough to count. At least not recently.”