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

by Slaton, Derek

  “There were a couple more,” Dixon said quietly, “but… they haven’t shown up yet.”

  Herrera nodded. “Okay,” he continued, “we’re going to split up into groups of nine. Pick the seven other you need and send the rest over to me.” He pointed to the table in the far corner. “Gotta do some planning.”

  “They’ll be right over,” Dixon replied, and headed off.

  Herrera headed over to the table and pulled out a map of the island, spreading it out to study it. His original mission had been to take the docks, but now he’d have to adjust course and do the truck mission on the fly.

  “Can I have a word?” Gilbert asked from behind him.

  The Corporal didn’t even look up from his map. “I know what you’re going to say, and you can save it,” he said flatly.

  “I don’t think you do,” the Private replied. “You know I can lead that mission, and you’re letting your personal feelings endanger the whole operation.”

  Herrera shook his head and stood up straight. “Wrong,” he spat, and pointed to the chair to his left. “Sit.”

  Gilbert sat, near pouting, and the Corporal turned the map towards him.

  “Three and a half miles of zombie infested terrain to get to our target,” Herrera said, pointing, and the Private leaned forward to study the paper. “We have half as many men as the mission parameters called for, and only four people capable of driving a truck, meaning we’re going to have to make two trips on the bridges.” He raised an eyebrow. “What would you do?”

  Gilbert studied the map carefully, reading a few of the handwritten notes, and then following several of the lines going north with his finger. All of them went through neighborhoods and paused at a circled building halfway up with CHURCH written beside it.

  “Well,” he drawled, “for starters, given the resistance we found in the neighborhood by the school, I would adjust course right out of the gate.”

  Herrera nodded. “And go where?”

  “I’d go right back through the woods where we were supposed to land, to get to this church rally point,” the Private said with a shrug. “If we cross over some open areas, there are two more wooded areas that will take us all the way up to that church, leaving only a mile or so to the target.”

  The Corporal shook his head. “You heard Dixon, the woods are a nightmare,” he said. “Dark and infested with zombies. You still want to go that route?”

  “Absolutely,” Gilbert replied with a nod. “We’re going to face heavy resistance no matter how we go. At least in the woods, we’d have a fighting chance to lose whatever is pursuing us.”

  Herrera nodded as well. “I came to the same conclusion,” he said. “What next?”

  Gilbert continued poring over the map. “Looks like there’s about six blocks of dense residential housing before the shopping center,” he mused, “so since we’re not going to have an overwhelming force to take them on, we’ll have to improvise.”

  “How so?” the Corporal prompted.

  “Diversion,” Gilbert replied with a shrug. “Car alarms, blow something up, whatever it is, it’ll have to be big enough to draw enough of them away so we can slip behind the lines and move up.”

  Herrera cocked his head. “What about the two trips?”

  “There’s nine of us,” the Private replied, “so four drivers on the trucks, and five riding pickup duty.”

  The Corporal raised an eyebrow. “And if we lose people on the way?”

  “We pick up some ten speed bikes and get our exercise in for the day,” Gilbert replied.

  Herrera nodded. “Now do you see why you aren’t on the docks?” he asked.

  “I really don’t,” the Private replied petulantly.

  “Because blocking off those bridges is the most important objective,” the Corporal said firmly. “If those docks don’t get cleared, the landing party can handle it if need be, even if it takes a couple of waves. If we don’t block those bridges, then they’re going to get overwhelmed once the shooting starts. If something happens to me, I need someone capable who can pick up the reins and deliver.”

  Gilbert sneered. “So you’re back to trusting me?”

  “Fuck no,” Herrera snapped. “Wouldn’t trust you as far as a kindergartner could throw you. But you’re experienced, and despite your major fuckup on the bridge, you’re better equipped to see this through than anybody else in the room.”

  The Private chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll take it,” he admitted. “When do we leave?”

  Herrera checked his watch. “We’re out in ten.”

  “I guess I should get prepped, then,” Gilbert said, and shoved back his chair, heading off to check his weapons.

  The Corporal picked up the map and stared at the wooded area they’d be heading into. “I really hope Dixon was exaggerating.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Herrera led the group of eight up to the edge of the woods. They stood there, listening to the light rustling and moaning coming from the trees.

  “We sure this is the best way through?” Choi asked.

  The Corporal nodded. “Surface streets are jam-packed,” he replied. “You’re more than welcome to try, but you’ll be doing it alone.”

  “Guess I’ll take my chances with you guys, then,” the Private muttered.

  “How do you want to do it?” Gilbert asked.

  Eason took a deep breath. “Guessing eight of us going together in a big pack isn’t a great strategy,” he said.

  “We go in two teams of four,” Herrera declared. “Choi, you’re with me, Gilbert, I want you to lead the other team along with Eason. If something happens to one team, at least there will be a truck driving tandem left.”

  Gilbert nodded. “Rendezvous at the church?”

  “Yep,” the Corporal agreed. “You all have a map, so you know where we’re headed if you get separated from the group. If things go really south, or you can’t make it to the church, fall back to Dixon’s group and try again a different way.” He pulled out his knife along with a retractable metal baton, jetting it out with a quick flick of his wrist. “We have to move quietly through these woods. One gunshot could doom us.”

  The men exchanged worried glances, clutching their guns with white knuckles.

  “You heard the man, holster those guns,” Gilbert snapped, putting away his own.

  The soldiers complied reluctantly, switching their guns for blades and blunt objects.

  “And one more thing,” Herrera said. “Based on what Dixon told me about the rough landing, it’s unlikely we’re going to find any survivors out here. But we could have runners, so stay frosty.”

  The soldiers shared worried looks about the prospect of runners chasing them through the darkened woods.

  “Let’s head out,” Gilbert cut in. “We’ll see you on the other side, Corporal.”

  Herrera nodded and watched the ex-Sergeant lead his crew down the tree line a couple hundred yards before vanishing into the forest.

  “Let’s go,” the Corporal said, and led his team into the trees. Choi came in behind him, Private Jacobs ducking in next, and Private Anton brought up the rear. They crept quietly and cautiously, knives and bludgeons at the ready.

  The only light were small rays of moonlight piercing through the limbs to illuminate small patches of ground in the darkened woods. The leaves crunching softly beneath their boots sounded much too loud, but they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

  After a few hundred yards, Herrera stopped the group at the sound of significant movement up ahead. He motioned for them to stay put, and slowly moved as quietly as he could to the next tree, looking out into the darkness.

  There was a moonlit patch between several trees with signs of tracks moving off to the side, as well as a few creatures milling about. He looked around on the ground, spotting a rock the size of his fist, and he picked it up, pitching it as hard as he could to the left of the lit area.

  As soon as it landed, the zombies whipped arou
nd towards the noise, moaning and shuffling off towards it. The Corporal waited, holding his breath as a dozen creatures passed through the lit area. If they’d made a play for the visible creatures, they would have been overrun by the ones in the shadows.

  When the immediate threat passed, he motioned for the others to follow him again. They continued to move, the path relatively clear for the next ten minutes or so, the group slow and steady. They worked their way north, only occasionally having to pause for a well timed rock throw or a quick jab to the skull of a lone zombie.

  Herrera brought the group to a stop again, this time at the edge of a picnic area. He peeked out at a dozen or so creatures spread out over the fifty by fifty yard area, most of them hanging out by a gazebo and grill as if it were a family barbecue for the undead.

  As he scanned the area, he looked to the left of the woods, seeing significant movement in the shadows, like a pack just waiting to be unleashed.

  The Corporal pursed his lips and motioned for Choi to join him. “We have to cut across the open area,” he breathed the words as quietly as he could.

  The Private gaped at him, his eyes easily conveying, Are you fucking crazy?

  Herrera pointed to the leftmost edge, and Choi squinted, his shoulders slumping when he spotted the massive amount of movement in the shadows.

  The Private leaned in and whispered, “How do you want to play it?”

  “Dead sprint, don’t worry about noise,” the Corporal replied softly. “Just get across and get back to cover, and we’ll lose them in the woods.”

  Choi nodded and then stepped back to relay the message to the others. They clustered around behind their superior, ready to roll.

  Herrera readied himself, giving another scan of the field. They were about fifteen yards away from the left edge where all the movement was, and twenty yards from the congregating barbecue zombies. He gripped his weapons tightly and then took off like a shot.

  He broke from the tree line like a sprinter out of the blocks, his trio of men following several yards behind in a staggered pattern. There weren’t as many leaves on the ground, but the heavy pounding of boots on the grass was enough to alert the zombies in the area.

  He glanced to the right, where a few barbecue ghouls staggered towards him. To the left, dozens of creatures emerged from the trees, moaning and arms outstretched. He wasn’t worried, as there was more than enough space between them. However, as they got halfway across the field, the collective noise of their boot falls had alerted more corpses in front of them.

  He continued running even at the sight of half a dozen zombies shambling out of the woods ahead. They were spread out well, so it wasn’t overwhelming. When he came within ten yards, three ghouls appeared right in his trajectory. Just before he reached them to attack, the sound of rapid footsteps made his heart rate triple.

  A runner burst out of the trees, shoving past a slower zombie and tore towards the Corporal. Herrera didn’t have time to attack, instinctively shoving the fast-moving ghoul to the left as it got close to him. He kept his momentum and slammed his knife into the zombie he’d originally been aiming for and then whirled around at the sound of Anton’s screams.

  The runner latched onto the poor Private’s shoulder, and Herrera stared at the horrific mauling, eyes wide.

  “Watch it!” Choi barked, and darted forward to tackle a creature within an arm's length of the Corporal’s back. He hopped on top of the fallen ghoul and stabbed down repeatedly into its face, sending blood everywhere.

  Herrera snapped back to reality and lunged for another nearby creature, bashing in its head with his baton. Both men returned their attention to Anton as Jacobs managed to slam his knife into the runner’s head as it tore another strip off of his friend.

  “Jacobs, we gotta move!” Herrera cried, seeing the horde of creatures gaining ground past the bloodied duo.

  The Private looked down at his friend, bleeding profusely from his shoulder wound. He reached down to help him up, and Anton immediately snapped off his vest, shoving it against Jacobs’ chest.

  “Take my ammo and go!” he demanded.

  Jacobs stared at his comrade and then gulped, nodding and running off to join the others. Anton picked his weapons off of the ground, let out a primal scream and ran headlong into the crowd of zombies flailing wildly and trying his best to take out as many as possible, while making as much noise as he could.

  Herrera led his two remaining team members into the woods, running as hard as he could through the trees, barely able to see what was ahead. He could hear the other two several yards behind him, but he tried to focus on clearing them a safe path.

  As he approached a tree, a figure emerged from behind it. He grabbed it by the shirt, forced it back up against the trunk, and delivered a few brutal strikes to the head, dropping it to the ground. His chest heaved for a few beats, rage thrumming through him as he berated himself for shoving the runner aside and costing Anton his life.

  “Come on Corporal,” Choi huffed as they caught up, “we gotta keep moving.”

  Jacobs nodded. “He’s right, we gotta move.”

  Herrera nodded, taking another few deep breaths to steady himself. “Choi, take point,” he instructed, and the Private gave a thumbs up before darting off into the woods.

  Jacobs patted the Corporal on the shoulder, giving him an encouraging glance, and Herrera gave him a nod before they followed their teammate.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dixon led his group up the road a few blocks to the west of the school. They’d taken the long way around, venturing south several blocks before crossing over, taking the Corporal’s warning seriously.

  The group of nine moved up the lightly packed street, with several soldiers rushing forward to dispatch zombies with their blades. With the route clear, Dixon led them to a house on the corner.

  The road was filled with ten houses on either side of the street, a quaint little slice of American life. The road ran straight into a row of trees into a dead end.

  “Ayers, Hurst, clear the house,” Dixon whispered.

  Both Privates complied, heading up to the house as the others fanned out to secure a perimeter around the building.

  “Try the knob,” Ayers suggested, and Hurst turned it, finding it unlocked. He nodded to his partner, receiving one in return, and then shoved the door open.

  Ayers burst inside, his companion quickly following, and moved into the living room, where visibility was next to nothing.

  He tripped over a corpse on the floor, and then immediately leapt back, slamming into the wall.

  Hurst barked a laugh, earning a glare from his friend.

  “What the fuck is so funny?” Ayers snapped.

  Hurst pulled out a small flashlight and clicked it on, showing that the corpse on the floor was missing the top part of its head, a shotgun lying on the ground beside it. Ayers shook his head and finally conceded with a laugh, relieved that they weren’t in any immediate danger.

  “If you’re finished shitting yourself, can we clear the rest of the house?” Hurst asked.

  Ayers nodded and the two men glanced in the kitchen, seeing nothing, and then moved down the hallway. As they approached the back bedroom, there was clear moaning and smacking against the door.

  The force of the banging intensified as they moved cautiously moved down the narrow hallway, readying their knives as they grew closer.

  “I go low, you go high?” Hurst asked.

  Ayers shrugged. “Works for me,” he replied. “If you want to be at dead dick level, I’m not going to fight you on it.”

  “Well, I know how much you like to watch,” his friend quipped, chuckling.

  Ayers rolled his eyes. “Just make sure you hold the fucker steady.”

  “Just make sure you don’t miss,” Hurst shot back.

  They reached the door, setting their flashlights on the ground, pointing up to illuminate the hall. Hurst took a knee, readying himself, and Ayers grabbed the knob. He turned it, and a
s soon as he did, Hurst gave it a great heave. It was heavy, but he was able to open it enough that a zombie wriggled through it.

  He immediately shoved his hands up into the creature’s chest, holding it at bay. Ayers stabbed downward, jamming his blade into the top of its skull. Before the creature dropped, however, a chorus of moans erupted from the room.

  “He’s not alone!” Ayers cried, and Hurst reinforced his grip, grabbing the creature’s shirt tightly and holding it in place as a barricade against the several other zombies trying to paw through the door.

  Ayers reached down and grabbed his flashlight, shining it into a duo of creatures pressing against their unmoving brother.

  “When I tell you, lean it to the left,” Ayers instructed. “Okay, now!” he cried, and Hurst moved the corpse, creating an opening for his companion to strike.

  Ayers stabbed one of the zombies in the eye and then leapt back before one of the rotted arms could catch him. “One more, we got this,” he huffed.

  Hurst struggled to hold the ghoul up while his partner found the next target. A second later, a teenage zombie reached past the slumped ghoul, managing to grip his arm.

  “Get this fucker off of me!” Hurst bellowed, and Ayers lined up his shot, stabbing right through the top of the dead teenager’s head.

  Hurst shook off the death grip, and both soldiers waited for a moment, listening to the moaning coming from the room, but not seeing the creature.

  Ayers shone the light over the corpse’s head into the room, and couldn’t see anything. “I hear something, but don’t see it,” he hissed. “We’re gonna have to go in.”

  “Gonna need a second to get up,” Hurst groaned. “You ready?”

  His partner nodded. “Go for it.”

  Hurst shoved the zombie barricade back into the room and scrambled to his feet while Ayers kept watch. The two men slowly entered the room, shining their flashlights all around. The sound of clattering chains echoed, and they both froze at the sight before them.

  “Oh, that’s just fucked up,” Ayers breathed.

  On the bed was an older woman, easily in her late seventies, chained by the arms and legs to a bed, thrashing about. Her mouth was bloody, but it was dried and looked like it had been that way for a while. Hurst shone the light onto the zombies they’d taken out, seeing several bite marks on them.