Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 11 | Dead America: Seattle [Part 9]

by Slaton, Derek

  DEAD AMERICA

  THE NORTHWEST INVASION

  BOOK 11

  SEATTLE PART 9

  BY DEREK SLATON

  © 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +27

  To the east of the I-5 laid a neighborhood just north of Volunteer Park. Battles raged all along the roads, gunfire cracking in every direction.

  “How much longer until dawn?” Private Bartlett asked as she held her gun at the ready.

  The densely populated area was a mix of high-priced apartments and upscale businesses, and had been home to a large number of young professionals who’d spent their days commuting to their high rise office jobs.

  “Still another hour,” Private Sellers replied, checking his watch.

  Bartlett sighed. “Dammit.”

  Post apocalypse, the area had become a nightmarish collection of zombies, darkened corridors, and danger. This, of course, was made worse by lack of sunlight.

  The two soldiers stood in an intersection with their squad of ten, two blocks to the east of the interstate, surrounded by residential housing. The next street had a couple of stores and some solar powered streetlights, but the trees at the far end blocked the majority of the light.

  Their mission was to keep a firing line and a keen eye to the west. They didn’t have any sort of barricade, which made the whole situation more nerve-wracking, just taking a knee in the middle of the road.

  “Make sure the flanks are covered,” Sellers reminded the troops. “We don’t want any surprises.”

  Corporal Korver rolled his eyes, looking down his nose at the young Private. “Relax kid,” he drawled, “we cleared the yards already.”

  “Our last squad thought that too,” Bartlett snapped. “Then a runner got loose.”

  Sellers narrowed his eyes. “There’s a reason we’re with you now, instead of still with them,” he added.

  Korver paused at the pain in their voices and clenched his jaw. While nothing official had come down the line, he’d heard from some of the others that there were significant losses among the southern force the day before. The last thing he wanted was for rumors to spread around to the others.

  “Potts, Benton,” he declared, “pick a side and cover it.”

  The two Privates moved to the left and ride side respectively, taking a knee and keeping a close, intense watch on the houses to each side.

  All of a sudden Private Galindo fired off several shots from his assault rifle, startling the whole team into high alert.

  When he stopped, chest heaving, Korver turned and smacked him on the arm.

  “Galindo, what the hell, man?” he demanded.

  The Private’s eyes were wide. “I saw movement down the street.”

  “Really?” the Corporal asked, skepticism evident in his tone. “Where? Why don’t you point it out to the rest of us since you can see in the fucking dark?”

  Galindo strained his eyes, trying to get a read on the area where he shot, but couldn’t see anything. “Well…” he trailed off, dragging out the word. “I don’t see it anymore.”

  “Probably because it wasn’t there to begin with,” Korver snapped, pointing a finger at him. “In case you forgot, we don’t have more ammo coming, and we have a long-ass day ahead of us. So unless you want to start fighting hand to hand with those undead bastards, I would suggest you wait for the target to get real close. You don’t have to hit them at a distance, they aren’t shooting back at us.”

  The Private nodded begrudgingly, wincing at the verbal beat down. He checked his ammo reserves, wrinkling his nose when he found only two full mags remaining.

  “Now, everybody,” the Corporal declared, “keep your eyes peeled for movement. We’re past the choke point bridge, so we’re going to get hit with everything coming from downtown.”

  As if on cue, the gunfire coming from the east kicked up, only a block away. It was intense fire, sounding like hundreds of rounds being squeezed off in rapid succession. The group stiffened, muscles tense, and several of them turned their aim towards the noise.

  “Stay steady, everyone,” Korver warned, and they waited with bated breath.

  The firing continued for several moments, and then quickly died down, which did nothing to ease the tension in the troops. They remained motionless and silent, straining their ears and eyes, waiting for any sign of the enemy.

  Eerie moans began to float towards them from the south, and the Privates turned that way, taking aim into the darkness.

  “Nobody fire until you’re a hundred percent sure you can hit the target,” Korver said firmly, still facing the east.

  After several moments of tense waiting, zombies appeared beneath the streetlight at the next intersection, fifty to sixty yards away. At first it was just a trickle, a few small groups of three or four, but by the time those groups had crossed the beam of light, there were dozens coming up behind them.

  The soldiers held fast, the ghouls too far away to shoot.

  “Corporal,” Galindo murmured to his superior, staying as quiet as he could, “hundred or so down the street headed our way.”

  Korver nodded. “Heard,” he replied, voice low.

  The firing to the east had completely stopped, and a full minute went by of nobody saying anything, the only sound the shuffling and groaning of the approaching monsters.

  “Twenty seconds and we gotta start shooting,” Galindo whispered, “or we’re going to get overrun.”

  “Heard,” the Corporal repeated.

  As the soldiers prepared, a set of footsteps came up the road, moving rapidly. Korver strained his ears even harder, hearing some heavy breathing, huffing and puffing. It was too dark to see what it was, runner or human, so he squared his shoulders as it grew closer.

  “Nobody fires unless I do,” the Corporal said quietly. When there was no response, he clucked his tongue and asked firmly, “Is that clear?”

  There was a quiet chorus of yes, sir, and Korver gripped his assault rifle tightly, preparing to unload if he needed to. A few seconds later, the footsteps sounded deadly close, soon followed by wheezing.

  “Don’t shoot, just run!” the person yelled, voice hoarse from overexertion.

  A male soldier emerged from the darkness, weaponless and covered from head to toe in blood. His eyes were wild, terrified, and as he reached the line, he shoved the Corporal aside and kept tearing past them.

  Korver tried to reach out to slow him down. “Hey—”

  “Run! Run!” the soldier cried, batting him away. He vanished into the darkness on the other side, and the soldiers whipped back to where he’d come from as more footsteps smacked the pavement.

  Korver raised his weapon again, prompting the rest of his team facing that direction to do the same.

  “As soon as you see one, start shooting,” he commanded. “Can’t let runners get a foothold!”

  The soldiers prepared, muscles tense as the hungry snarls and pounding feet grew louder.

  “Going hot,” Galindo warned.

  The Corporal nodded. “Do it,” he replied.

  The Private took aim and fired, prompting the other troops facing south to do the same. Their gunshots were calm and collected, each of them strategically picking targets and dropping them, one by one.

  They kept the slow-moving creatures at bay, the closest still standing about twenty yards away, but the crowd was thicker the deeper they looked.

  A moment later, a runner came into the light from the east. There wasn’t much to illuminate it, but they could make out the fast
moving ghoul. Korver fired first, sending three-round bursts downrange. The first batch ripped into the zombie’s chest, tearing through its tattered crimson fatigues. One round from the second burst found its target, cracking through the bridge of the monster’s nose, sending it flopping backwards onto the pavement with a wet smack.

  As soon as it hit the ground, a dozen more appeared to take its place, racing quickly towards the living and breathing lunch in the middle of the intersection.

  “Open fire, open fire!” Korver screamed in panic.

  The soldiers next to him unleashed a torrent of bullets, everyone shooting in three-round bursts. Most of the shots either missed the bodies completely, or hit harmlessly on torsos and shoulders.

  As the runners grew closer, the soldiers were able to adjust their aim, hitting a few in the head, but several troops resorted to panic fire as the threat grew bigger and bigger.

  One ghoul reached a few yards of Sellers, but both he and Bartlett focused their guns and fired simultaneously, both bullets punching it in the forehead just before it reached him. The creature lurched forward, sliding on the pavement, and coming to a stop just at his feet.

  “Watch it, Potts!” Korver barked, and she stood up from her kneel, retreating while firing into a trio of runners on the left side of the road.

  She was able to hit the leader in the head, but the other shots found throats instead, and the other two took their opening to leap on her.

  The zombies attacked viciously, spraying blood every which way. Potts screamed, her agony palpable as flesh tore from her body.

  “Keep firing!” the Corporal screamed at Sellers and Bartlett, and broke from his position. He emptied the rest of his mag into the feasting zombies, taking them out and plunging a bullet into the now gurgling soldier’s forehead to stop her from suffering and reanimating.

  He didn’t take a moment to grieve, couldn’t waste any precious moments, and simply smacked in another magazine and turned back towards the runners still bearing down on their position. He could make out half a dozen through the darkness, but he didn’t want to assume there weren’t more.

  Meanwhile, Galindo and his team picked up their firing rate, the zombies from the south still growing in number.

  “Last mag!” Galindo yelled, slapping in a fresh mag to continue firing. The others in his group continued, and then Private Benton suddenly turned to the west, unloading bullets in that direction.

  “Contact west!” he screamed. He ripped off a couple of shots towards the yard between some houses. He hit a zombie in the head, dropping it, but more emerged from the shadows.

  Galindo’s team struggled to hold back the horde, the ghouls at the front edge having come within fifteen yards of them.

  “We’re going to get overrun, Corporal!” Galindo cried.

  Korver, Sellers, and Bartlett continued to fire on the runners, working in three-round bursts, and another one dropped. As soon as it flopped backwards, five more joined the handful of others rushing towards their position.

  The Corporal grunted in frustration. “Move to the west!” he barked.

  The trio began to retreat while still firing. Galindo and Barr stood up from their knees and moved back while the three still on the eastern side of the formation continued shooting to the south horde.

  Korver whipped around, joining Benton in pushing to the west, hitting targets in the yard while leading the group towards the alley between the houses.

  “We’re moving!” Galindo bellowed, and he and Barr joined Sellers and Bartlett in firing towards the runners, hitting a few of them.

  Privates Marin and Waller leapt to their feet, the latter grabbing Private Parra by the arm to pull him up.

  Parra looked to the east, his eyes widening at how close the runners were getting. He jerked his arm free and fired, but his aim was off. Rather than retreat, he adjusted his aim and fired again, but missed.

  The military ghoul rushed him, and he froze in terror. By the time he snapped out of it, the zombie was on top of him, ripping at his throat.

  Marin screamed and rushed to his aid, grabbing the ghoul by the back of its clothes. He managed to get it off of Parra, but his hand slipped on the blood-soaked fabric as the ghoul got free, whirling around and launching into his gut, teeth first.

  Marin wailed and pulled his handgun, shooting the zombie through the top of its head.

  Waller stood stunned, seeing his friends bleeding and wounded from zombie bites, sealing their fates.

  “Waller, move!” Galindo bellowed, bringing up the rear of the retreat.

  The grieving Private raised his rifle, aiming at his bleeding friend.

  Marin immediately threw his hands up, palms out. “Waller, no, no!” he begged frantically. “Let me keep fighting, let me—”

  Waller pulled the trigger, hitting his friend in the forehead. He immediately let out an agonized scream, angry at the situation. He whirled to face the west, stomping after his team, and then froze as Galindo raised his rifle, aiming past him.

  Waller whipped back around, but it was too late. The monster that used to be Parra scrambled to its feet and launched itself through the air, tackling him and biting into his bicep. Waller groaned and hissed in pain, punching the zombie in the head to try to dislodge it.

  Galindo chewed his lower lip and then fired a three-round burst, hitting both Parra and Waller in the top of the head, leaving them both limp on the road. Before he could think too hard about it, he turned and rushed after the remains of his team at the far end of the alley.

  “Where are the others?” Korver asked, but the Private just shook his head, not needing to vocalize what had happened.

  “Where are we going, Corporal?” Sellers asked, eyes wide.

  Korver rubbed his forehead. Down to six, including himself. Just six. “Not sure yet,” he admitted.

  “There’s an apartment building on the next block,” Benton suggested. “That should provide us enough cover until this horde passes.”

  The Corporal shook his head. “No, we have to move south.”

  “South?” Galindo gaped at him. “You saw how many of those things were there. And hell, that doesn’t include the runners.” He shook his head wildly. “That’s suicide!”

  Korver narrowed his eyes. “We have orders to hold this line and that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he said firmly. “If we don’t, then we’re going to get wiped out on this side of the water.”

  “What about the zombies that overran the line to the east?” Galindo demanded. “You want to take them out too?”

  Korver nodded. “If we can.”

  “I think there’s a storefront near the far end of the block to the south,” Bartlett piped up, holding up a hand. “We might be able to fend them off in there if we can get to it.”

  Sellers nodded. “I saw it too.”

  “Gotta admit,” Benton added quietly, “I like the idea of being inside more than being exposed out here.”

  Bartlett nodded emphatically. “And we might be able to draw over some zombies from the next street up as well.”

  As Korver contemplated the Privates all trying to convince him, Galindo turned and fired several shots down the alley at a few zombies stumbling into it.

  “Fuck it,” he grunted. “Anywhere is better than here.”

  “Let’s move,” Korver finally agreed, and led the team out of the alley and into a grassy area separating the two rows of buildings. The group raced down the area, aiming down the alleys as they crossed to make sure there were no surprises inside.

  When they reached the end of the row, standing outside a mid-sized single story building, Korver immediately went to work on the lock. Galindo and Barr aimed back to the north, popping off a few shots at zombies that had followed them back down.

  “Well, at least we know they’ll follow us wherever we go,” Galindo muttered.

  “We got a runner,” Barr said, whipping behind them.

  Galindo clenched his jaw. “Make that two,”
he said. “Sellers, Benton, get in here.”

  The two Privates stepped up and readied their weapons, but he shook his head.

  “We’ll handle shooting them,” Galindo said.

  Sellers furrowed his brow. “What do you want us to do?” he asked.

  The runners passed the slow-moving zombies, still about thirty yards away.

  “If we miss,” Galindo said, “you need to hold them at bay.”

  Sellers and Benton shared a concerned look.

  Barr shook her head. “Just get low and grab them,” she explained. “We’re only going to need a second to finish them.”

  “Damn well better,” Benton muttered.

  Galindo and Barr tracked their targets with their barrels as they grew closer. They waited until they were within ten yards before pulling the trigger.

  Barr’s shot pierced the zombie’s forehead, sending it tumbling back to the ground in a heap. Galindo’s shot was a dull click instead of a loud boom.

  “Fuck,” he said flatly.

  Sellers dove forward, dropping to one knee, and lashed out with his fists, catching the zombie by the belt and shirt. The momentum sent it tumbling over him, but Sellers anticipated it and twisted, smacking it into the ground. He used every ounce of his strength to hold it down, and Galindo pulled his handgun to execute the beast at point-blank range.

  “Appreciate the assist,” he said.

  Sellers clenched his fists as he got to his feet. “Next time you want me to risk my life,” he growled, “make goddamn sure there’s a bullet in the chamber.”

  Galindo opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. He’d fucked up, and his teammate was absolutely right.

  “Got the door,” Korver called, stepping aside, “let’s move!”

  The six soldiers burst into the store, the Corporal brought up the rear to secure the door. Sellers, Bartlett, and Galindo pushed through the store, which turned out to be a trendy clothing boutique, clearing it quickly. When they reached the front, they stopped, staring out the front windows, which were nestled into a waist-high wooden wall.

  “Mother of god,” Sellers breathed, “that’s a lot of zombies.”

  As they waited on the others they stared at the sea of ghouls outside, slowly shambling past them to the north.