Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 4 | Dead America-Seattle [Part 2]

by Slaton, Derek

  “You can take that to the bank, Sergeant,” the Corporal replied firmly, meeting his superior’s gaze.

  McCarty nodded. “Good,” he replied, “I like having no nonsense people working with me.” He cocked his head and raised a finger. “I am curious about one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” Herrera asked.

  “Why are you insistent on bringing him along?” the Sergeant asked.

  The Corporal took a deep breath. “Two reasons,” he replied, “One, I’m gonna make damn sure he pays off his debts to the men whose lives he squandered.”

  “And two?” McCarty raised an eyebrow.

  Herrera grinned. “I get to push his ass out of an airplane.”

  The Sergeant chuckled, shaking his head. “I look forward to seeing you in action,” he said.

  The plane suddenly throttled back, startling most of the men, Herrera included. McCarty checked his watch before changing the channel on his headset to speak with the pilot.

  “There’s no way we’re already at the jump zone,” the Sergeant said, turning to face the cockpit. “Why are we slowing down?”

  The pilot shook his head. “Engine is running hot, so I gotta dial it back,” he replied. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to be more than four or five minutes behind the others.”

  “Four or five minutes is an eternity in a war zone, son,” McCarty warned.

  The pilot sighed. “So is the four or five minutes it takes to crash land when the engine catches fire,” he shot back.

  McCarty glared at him for a beat, and saw it returned, so he backed down, knowing that he was right. He nodded in defeat.

  “So what you gotta do to get us there safe,” the Sergeant conceded. “We’ll make it work.” He flipped the channel back to the Corporal. “We’re good, just five minutes behind the others. Which means we’re gonna have to haul ass.”

  Herrera nodded, and then pulled his headset down, leaning over to the man on his right to tell him the situation right into his ear. That soldier then turned and passed it to the man next to him, and so on. Soon, all the soldiers were nodding, accepting the news.

  The plane fell silent of speaking, with the men looking out the window at the moonlit ground, contemplating the task at hand. As they approached the jump zone, downtown Seattle came into view on the horizon, standing up tall. The moon reflected off of the glass of the buildings, as well as the Space Needle.

  Herrera noticed the concerned expression on McCarty’s face, and his brow furrowed. He put his headset back on and asked, “You good, Sergeant?”

  “Yeah,” McCarty replied, shaking his head. “Just hoping this goes better than that debacle we had in Kansas City.”

  The Corporal felt his blood run cold. “You were in K.C.?” he asked.

  “I was,” the Sergeant replied. “Along with a lot of other boys who didn’t make it out.”

  Herrera swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for your loss, Sergeant.”

  McCarty turned his gaze on the Corporal, all hint of concern gone from his stern expression. “Just means we’re gonna have to kick their share of ass, too.”

  Herrera nodded firmly, giving him a thumbs up, wisely deciding not to press the issue further. Another few moments ticked by, before the pilot tapped the Sergeant on the shoulder.

  “We jump in sixty!” McCarty barked, voice carrying to the men clustered around.

  Herrera removed his headset and got the men ready, looking out the window to see the island coming up fast. It was big and dark, with patches of clear field and developments all around it. After a moment, he found the landing zone, an unmistakable dark patch on the southern portion of the island.

  The plane throttled back a little more, allowing them a stable departure. McCarty gave the signal, and the Corporal threw open the door to the plane. He stepped to the side, looking back at Gilbert, who bounced from foot to foot, psyching himself up to jump.

  Herrera reached out and grabbed his parachute shoulder strap, giving a heave to throw him from the plane, prompting a nod of approval from McCarty.

  The other soldiers piled out of the plane in short order, the Corporal and Sergeant jumping last. They plummeted through the air, hurtling rapidly towards the ground. At target altitude, they pulled their rip cords to deploy their chutes, the soldiers floating on the wind.

  At the slower descent, gunfire could be heard popping off sporadically on the ground. Herrera’s heart skipped a beat with each shot that went off, worrying about just how bad it was on the ground. What if the woods were infested with ghouls? They could become living pinatas.

  Within a second or two, the hypothetical threat became real fear as the wind picked up, strong gusts blowing them off course. He held onto his straps, struggling to control the descent, but it was no use. The wooded landing zone quickly became unreachable, as well as the rally point.

  The Corporal looked below to see the soldiers who’d leapt first heading to the high school, careening out of control. At a few hundred yards above the ground, he realized that the majority of the ground was moving.

  He pulled as hard as he could on the parachute, trying everything he could to divert course. Two of the soldiers below were able to shift their descent to the right, crashing hard into the pavement of the parking lot. As they did, the dense mass from the field moved in their direction.

  Two other soldiers weren’t as fortunate, as the wind had blown them too far off course. Herrera watched helplessly as they landed right in the middle of the field, quickly vanishing under a swarming mass of rotted flesh.

  Gunfire on the ground erupted, coming from the two soldiers from the parking lot who’d managed to avoid an instant death. With the ground rapidly approaching, the Corporal struggled to make the turn, getting just enough of it to land on the far edge of the parking lot.

  He tumbled forward, landing hard on the pavement, his chute dragging him across the hard surface. Moans came from nearby, too close for comfort, and Herrera looked up to see a swarm dozens strong grasping at the chute, tangling themselves up in it.

  He quickly pulled his knife and started hacking at the parachute lines, the horde growing closer and closer to him. Panic set in as they reached ten yards away, and he screamed as he sawed at the cords.

  Gunshots rang out rapidly, striking several creatures in the head and dropping them. Herrera looked back to see Private Choi and Gilbert running up to him, guns blazing.

  “What the fuck you waiting on?!” Gilbert barked. “Get up!”

  Choi continued to fire as Gilbert helped Herrera out of his parachute, the Corporal scrambling to his feet. The trio retreated a bit, putting room between them and the horde.

  “You all right?” the ex-Sergeant asked.

  Herrera nodded. “Yeah, fine.”

  “Where are the others?” Choi asked breathlessly. “Where’s Sarge?”

  The Corporal shook his head. “Two of them landed on the field,” he explained. “I don’t know about McCarty.”

  A moment later, rapid gunfire erupted in the south, on the outer fringe of the field. They quickly rushed towards the noise, keeping their eyes peeled for trouble.

  About two hundred yards away they spotted muzzle flashes going towards a slow-moving mass of rotted corpses. As they got closer, they spotted Sergeant McCarty, tangled in his chute cords that had woven in with a horde of zombies.

  They ran hard, raising their assault rifles as they went, and opened fire at fifty yards. The bullets weren’t accurate, but they were desperate.

  At thirty yards, the mass got closer and closer to the Sergeant, who struggled to free himself from the tangled mass of cords. He fired several more three-round bursts before his gun went dry, and the ghouls overwhelmed him.

  Herrera skidded to a stop twenty yards from the Sergeant.

  “What are you doing?” Choi demanded. “We gotta help him!”

  The Corporal shook his head, knowing it was too late. Choi let out a frustrated scream as they watched McCarty reach into his bag,
pulling out a grenade and jerking out the pin with his teeth just as the zombies piled on top of him.

  The gruff Sergeant didn’t even scream as the ghouls ripped into his flesh.

  The trio of soldiers rushed away from the scene, not wanting to get caught in the shrapnel. As they cleared the area, a dull explosion sounded, countless bodies softening the noise of the blast.

  The Corporal walked with determination into the neighborhood beside the school, the entire weight of the mission now on his shoulders.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Herrera, Gilbert, and Choi took a knee at the edge of a neighborhood, looking out over a golf course leading to the country club rally point. Choi kept a watch on the rear, as the fighting through the neighborhood had been tough and consistent.

  “I’m starting to think nobody on this island survived this,” he muttered.

  Gilbert wrinkled his nose. “And apparently everybody was having a picnic, too,” he spat. “Haven’t seen this many of those things out in the open since Spokane.”

  “Still doesn’t change the fact we have to get our job done,” Herrera said firmly. He scanned the golf course, seeing small patches of creatures, making the plotting of the path through more difficult.

  “I can’t believe Sarge is gone,” Choi groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face. “What the fuck are we gonna do now?”

  Gilbert clenched his jaw. “We’re gonna listen to the Corporal,” he said. “He’ll get us through.”

  Herrera blinked at the ex-Sergeant in surprise, and Gilbert gave him a confident nod. The Corporal wasn’t sure what had brought it on, though in the back of his mind he had a feeling the Private knew they were in deep shit. If even Gilbert could see that, then he worried they were in the worst shape they could be. He shook his head, assigning his brain to the task at hand.

  “We’re on the move,” he said, “follow close, melee kills only. We don’t know what the situation is at the rally point, and until we do, I don’t want any more attention to us than necessary.” He stared at them expectantly. “Good?”

  Both Privates nodded and pulled out their knives, and he led them out. They ran to the golf course, hopping over the waist-high chain-link fence and darting onto the fairway. There was a group of four zombies there, and Herrera led them up, knocking several over as the trio made short work of them with stabs to the head.

  The country club building was half a mile from their location, with the moonlight doing just enough to illuminate the rolling grassy hills of the course. The Corporal led them through, darting in between smaller groups of zombies when they could, reaching a final duo of ghouls in the way.

  Herrera ran past them, letting the Privates dispatch the undead so he could get within view of the club. He knelt by a tree on the hill, studying the area as the other two joined him.

  “There’s some movement inside,” he murmured as he studied the shuffling beneath some artificial light source. “Looks like they’ve secured the rally point,” he confirmed. “Let’s get moving.”

  They moved quickly across the field, making sure to wave and zigzag a bit in case someone was keeping watch. The last thing they wanted was a friendly fire incident, especially when so many of their team had already been lost.

  As they approached, a tall blond soldier waved maniacally at them. “We got friendlies!” he called back into the room. “Man, are we glad to see you,” he gushed as the trio approached. “Thought you were goners.”

  “Some of us were,” Gilbert replied.

  Ayers looked them over, eyes widening. “Where’s Sergeant McCarty?”

  Herrera shook his head. “He didn’t make it,” he replied. “Lost two others, too.”

  Dixon came around from the other side of the room as Ayers’ shoulders slumped. “What’s going on?” he asked, and spotted the Corporal. “Where’s Sarge?”

  “He didn’t make it,” Herrera repeated.

  Gilbert took a deep breath. “Went out like a beast, though.”

  “Holy shit,” Dixon said, and then turned to the Corporal. “So, you’re in charge, now?”

  Herrera nodded, letting out a deep sigh. “It would appear that way.”

  “Well, I hope you’re up to the task,” Dixon replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “because we got a shit-tastic situation on our hands.”

  The Corporal straightened his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, for starters, whoever thought it was a good idea to land in the woods deserves to have their ass kicked,” the Private snarled, “because it did not go well.” He pointed to the far corner of the room where two soldiers laid on couches, several other men attempting to make a leg splint. “One split his leg so bad the bone was sticking out, and the other face planted into a tree so hard I’ll be surprised if he remembers the last year.”

  “We should all be that lucky,” Choi muttered as they came inside proper, Ayers closing the door behind them.

  “On top of that, we still have seven missing,” Dixon added.

  The trio blinked at him in shock.

  “Christ!” Choi blurted. “We’re already down twelve men, and we haven’t even gotten started yet?”

  Herrera furrowed his brow. “Honest opinion,” he began, “do you think any of them made it and just haven’t found their way here, yet?”

  Dixon immediately shook his head. “That forest was the stuff of nightmares, man,” he declared. “If you were lucky enough to get to the ground in one piece, you had movement everywhere. That moon didn’t do a damn bit of good either, lighting up just enough to scare you shitless. Frankly, I’m amazed that any of us survived it.”

  “Well I’m glad you did, because you’re going to lead the docks team,” Herrera said.

  Both Dixon and Gilbert spat, “What?!” at the same time.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Corporal,” Dixon blathered, putting up his hands, “I am not the man for that job.”

  “Corporal, I know we have our differences,” Gilbert cut in, “but you know I can lead that assault.”

  Dixon motioned to the ex-Sergeant. “I tend to agree with him.”

  “Enough!” Herrera snapped. “Dixon, you’re going to lead the dock mission.” He put up a hand to stop Gilbert from speaking. “Take Choi and go help the injured to a secure room here. We can’t take them with us, and we can’t leave somebody to guard them. Make sure they have provisions, because it could be days before anybody gets back to them.”

  Gilbert wrinkled his nose, looking like he wanted to scream, but bit his tongue. “Yes sir,” he mumbled, and headed off with Choi in tow.

  Dixon’s face was pale, his terror showing in droves on his face, staring wide-eyed at the Corporal.

  Herrera stepped forward, putting his hands on the Private’s shoulders to steady him. “Listen to me,” he said firmly, “you can do this.”

  “I respectfully disagree, Corporal,” Dixon replied shakily.

  “When we were back at the airport,” Herrera began, “Captain Kersey and I watched you interact with the men. The Captain marveled at how much trust the team had in you.”

  Dixon blinked at him. “Captain Kersey said that?”

  “Yeah, and we were both impressed, because it’s not an easy thing to get,” the Corporal added.

  The Private took a deep breath. “Corporal, I gotta level with you,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ve never so much as led a boy scout troop, let alone a mission like this.”

  “Well, I just led my first mission less than a week ago,” Herrera pointed out,” and here I am being sent off in the first wave of this assault. If I can do it, you can. Just rely on your men and they’ll pull you through.”

  Dixon nodded, his eyes slowly firming up as he bolstered his confidence. “So… so what do you need me to do?” he asked.

  “Who do you trust the most in this group?” Herrera asked.

  “Private Ayers,” came the immediate reply. “We’ve been together since basic.”

  “Ayers, over here!” He
rrera called, waving for him to come over.

  The Private broke away from guard duty and approached them. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

  “Private Dixon here is going to be leading the dock mission,” Herrera said. “I need you to support him however he needs it.”

  Ayers smirked. “Look at you, getting promoted,” he teased. “We’re gonna wreck some shit.” He held out his fist, and Dixon bumped it. “Frankly, it’s about time they gave you more responsibility.”

  Herrera inclined his head. “See, you got the men behind you.”

  “Okay,” Dixon said firmly, finally seeming to have accepted his fate. “So, we gotta clear the school, then the docks, right?”

  The Corporal shook his head. “The school is a lost cause,” he admitted, “especially with the numbers we have. You’re going to have to find a new rally point a few blocks to the west of the school. And worse, you’re going to have to be quiet about it.”

  “The school that bad?” Ayers asked.

  Herrera nodded. “We lost three men, including the Sarge, just landing there.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Dixon replied.

  “Good,” the Corporal said. “Now, with the men we have left, who knows how to drive a big rig?”

  Dixon pursed his lips in thought. “Pretty sure Choi can handle one,” he mused, “not sure who else.”

  “What about Eason?” Ayers asked.

  Dixon turned to the other men. “Hey, Eason?” he called. “You know how to drive a big rig?”

  A short kid that looked no older than nineteen stood up from the splinting. “In the eyes of the government?” he asked. “Nope.” He held up a hand. “In reality? Hell yeah!”

  Herrera gaped at him. “Is he even old enough to drive?”

  “He’s a country boy, so he probably came out of the womb on a four wheeler,” Ayers replied offhandedly.

  Dixon shook his head. “There’s a mental image I didn’t need,” he muttered.

  “I’ll take him,” the Corporal said. “Is there anybody else you can think of?”

  Both Privates shook their heads.