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

by Slaton, Derek

  They opened it up, staring around at the typical shed material, a few bikes, a lawnmower, tools…

  “Now we’re cooking,” Dixon said, picking up a three-gallon can of kerosene. He shook it, noting it was about two-thirds of the way full.

  He looked around for a dish, finding a small dog bowl filled with nails and screws. He grabbed it and dumped it on the floor.

  “Okay, you boys get back to the fence line,” he instructed. “One of you grab a few of the others and some more weapons, and I’ll bring the zombies to you.”

  The soldiers shared a concerned glance.

  Dixon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m a trained professional,” he assured them. “I was doing Jackass-style stunts way before they even had a tv show. Now get moving, they’ll be at the fence before you know it.”

  The two men rushed off, and Dixon took the goods and walked down the street towards the horde. There were over a hundred in the road, all focused on one house, paying him no attention at all.

  He stopped about twenty yards away, staying as quiet as he could. He gently set down the dog dish and poured in some kerosene, filling it up. He looked up and saw a few of the ghouls had acknowledged him, turning to shamble in his direction.

  “Oh good, I get a crowd for my performance,” he drawled and then lit up the liquid in the dish.

  It burned brightly, and he took a step back, picking up the can. He aimed the nozzle down and began to pour. As soon as the stream hit the fire, flames leapt up into it, and Dixon flung his arm side to side, sending plumes of flaming liquid into the horde. After a few good sprays, he reared back and lobbed the canister as hard as he could.

  Flaming liquid spun wildly as the can floated through the air, coating every zombie it came into contact with. Soon, the darkness of the night was illuminated with flaming corpses.

  “Damn,” Dixon breathed, swiping his palms together, “that worked better than I thought.”

  He backed up slowly, watching as the bulk of the horde began to come after him. Some of the ghouls started to collapse from flame damage, and before long, the fire started to tamp down, but the zombies were sufficiently drawn towards him.

  “Hope they’re ready,” he muttered, and turned, jogging back to the tree line, pushing through to the fence. When he reached it, Ayers, Hurst, and two others stood there armed with bats, hammers, and a sharpened pool cue.

  Dixon hopped the fence to join them.

  “I saw the tail end of that,” Ayers declared. “I had no idea you were such a wild man.”

  Dixon smirked. “You should see me when I know I have an audience,” he declared. The men shared a chuckle, and then he continued, “If you men got this, I’m going to go check on the others, and make sure we’re good to go up there. Because once this is clear, we have to do the same thing all the way to the docks.”

  “We got you, man,” Hurst assured him. “Go do what you got to do.”

  Dixon nodded and headed away from the line as the first few zombies approached. He listened to the sound of cracking skulls, smiling to himself in the knowledge that they were one step closer to success.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Herrera led his team through the neighborhood towards the school. They took out a couple of zombies hanging out in the side yard of a house, efficiently and quietly, as if they were more of a nuisance than a threat.

  The group took a knee and looked out at the school, a mid-sized building smaller than the average Super Center. A decently sized pack of ghouls milled about out front, several dozen, it looked like. Towards the back, where the sports fields sprawled, there were almost a hundred monsters spread across. Near the back of the school was a smaller pack, no more than a dozen.

  The Corporal pointed to the rear. “We get in through the back windows, then find our way to the cafeteria.”

  “What about the door on the side of the building?” Greer asked, pointing to a lone door along a brick wall in the center, looking flush with no handle.

  “That looks like a fire door,” Gilbert said quietly.

  Herrera nodded. “That’s our exit point, then,” he confirmed. “Once we set this to blow, we’re going to have to move quickly.”

  “Weapons?” Choi asked.

  The Corporal held up his knife. “Melee only until we set the fire, then all bets are off,” he replied. “Questions?”

  The soldiers shook their heads.

  “Let’s move out,” Herrera said, and then led the group away from the house, sprinting across the street to the school. Their footsteps were loud, attracting a little attention from the field zombies, who turned and began to shamble in their direction.

  The soldiers ignored them, rushing straight towards the closest window they could find. As they reached the building, Herrera and Gilbert ran forward, jamming their blades into the two closest zombies. Meanwhile, Choi used the butt of his rifle to smash a window.

  “We’re in!” he hissed, and then knelt down, creating a step stool out of his thigh.

  Greer boosted up first, diving inside and immediately hopping up to clear the small classroom. The door was shut, and he checked it to make sure it was secure, and then turned to help the others inside.

  Herrera entered last, glancing over his shoulder to see that the field zombies were still a good distance away. He hauled himself up onto the window ledge and Eason pulled him in.

  “Everybody good?” the Corporal asked.

  There was a collective murmur in the affirmative, and he nodded, heading for the classroom door. He peeked out through the tiny window, seeing nothing but darkness, and pulled out his flashlight.

  “Gonna have to risk it,” he muttered, and then shone the light through the window.

  There was nothing in the hallway close to the door that he could see, so he cracked it open and shone the flashlight down the hall, lighting up half a dozen zombies that immediately turned towards the disturbance.

  “Six down the hall,” Herrera said, “let’s clear ‘em out.”

  The soldiers walked out of the classroom, drawing their own flashlights as well. They stalked up the hallway, ready to throw down with the rival zombie gang. As they approached, Choi and Gilbert grabbed the first two ghouls and flung them up against lockers on opposite sides of the hall to take them out, clearing the path for the others to move up.

  The rest stepped through the gap and quickly stabbed the remaining creatures, clearing the hallway. When they reached the crossroads, the Corporal shone his flashlight in each direction. The main hallway had a few stragglers towards the end, while the other two directions were clear.

  He illuminated the wall, seeing a small sign reading LUNCH ROOM with an arrow pointing down one of the unoccupied hallways.

  “Gilbert, Choi, stay here and make sure our escape route is clear,” Herrera said. “Greer, Eason, you’re with me.” He waved to them, and they joined him as Gilbert and Choi kept their flashlights trained on the creatures at the far end of the hall. Thankfully, the zombies seemed uninterested in the light.

  The Corporal led the other two down towards the lunchroom. He paused before entering, peering through the window, shining his light to see. There were a few zombies in the eating area, some of them tangled up in the chairs, thrashing about in a feeble attempt to free themselves.

  “You two, clear the room,” Herrera instructed. “I’ll handle the kitchen.”

  They nodded as he breached the door. Greer and Eason immediately headed for the zombies, and the Corporal hopped up onto one of the long tables and ran down it, avoiding the tangled mass of chairs on the ground. As he hopped down, he bolted through the double doors into the kitchen, quickly sweeping it for threats and seeing none.

  Herrera removed the candles from his bag, setting them on the front counter and lighting them up. Once they were blazing, he rushed over to the stoves, flipping on every single gas burner but not using the igniter. The hiss of propane filled the air, and he quickly caught a whiff of it.

  “This isn’t
going to take long,” he muttered, and tore out of the kitchen. “Fuse is lit, we gotta move!” he yelled, and the two soldiers broke away from their battle to run to the door.

  As the trio burst out of the lunchroom, Herrera hollered, “We’re lit! Weapons hot!”

  Gilbert and Choi immediately drew their assault rifles and fired a few rounds downrange, striking a few zombies that ambled up the hallway towards them. As soon as the other three joined them, the team sprinted towards the fire exit door at the end of the hall.

  Herrera reached it first, slamming into it, but finding resistance. A few rotted hands pushed their way in, grasping at him.

  “Get down!” Gilbert cried.

  The Corporal dropped to one knee as Gilbert shoved his assault rifle into the door above his head. He fired off a few three-round bursts, shredding the faces of a few ghouls and easing the pressure on the door.

  Herrera pushed hard, and Choi joined him, the two of them staying low so that Gilbert had a firing window. As the door opened far enough, the trigger-happy Private pushed his way through, turning quickly and firing behind the door.

  “We gotta move!” he barked.

  The rest of the men rushed out from the school, and the door slammed shut behind them. The field zombies had reached the building, and were closing in.

  Eason and Choi began to fire, clearing out the ones that were closest. Herrera glanced at Gilbert, who was shooting into dozens of creatures from the front yard horde, closing in.

  “Back to the church!” the Corporal yelled, and the group fired a few more rounds before sprinting away from the school.

  When they hit the neighborhood across from it, several zombies emerged from around houses to investigate what the nose was. The group ignored them and kept running, even though their boot falls were gaining attention.

  When they approached the church, there were a dozen or so zombies standing between them and the building. Herrera stopped short about ten yards away and readied his weapon. The other soldiers joined him to create a devastating firing line. As quickly as they began shooting, the zombies dropped, and the battle was over, with well-placed shots to the head.

  Herrera opened the front door they’d left unlocked and ushered the soldiers inside before entering last and slamming it. He peered out the window, seeing zombies coming towards them in every direction.

  “Sure hope this works,” he uttered, and locked the door before retreating to the chapel.

  The soldiers collapsed in the pews, chests heaving, and Herrera joined them, setting down his rifle and cracking his neck.

  “That was fun,” Greer said brightly. “Having PTSD flashbacks to my worst P.E. class.”

  Gilbert shook his head. “Only thing missing were the cheerleaders laughing at you,” he quipped.

  “That never happened to me,” Greer replied, puffing out his chest a bit.

  “Look at me,” Gilbert replied, patting his belly, “might have happened a few times in my day.”

  A chuckle rippled through the men in a much-needed moment of levity.

  Finally, Choi asked, “So, how long until that thing blows?”

  “No idea,” Herrera replied, shaking his head. “I put the candles on the far side of the room, so it might take a while for the room to fill up with gas.”

  “Wait, how big was the room?” Eason asked, straightening up.

  The Corporal shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied, “about the size of this one? Only with lower ceilings.”

  Eason looked around, the wheels turning in his head. “Yeah…” he said, swallowing hard. “We may want to get away from the windows.”

  The soldiers shared concerned glances and then slowly moved to the center of the room.

  “It can’t be that bad, can it?” Choi asked as he took a seat on the floor.

  Eason scratched the back of his head. “Look at the bright side,” he drawled, “we’re going to get attention.”

  The group hunkered down, and then as if on cue, a loud BOOM rattled the building. The windows tittered, a few of them cracking, and the soldiers held their breath, hoping that they wouldn’t shatter.

  Luckily, the windows held, and they let out deep sighs collectively.

  “Damn, they probably heard that at the docks,” Greer said.

  Herrera shook his head. “Let’s hope not,” he said, “we’re going to have enough to deal with without more coming up.” He headed for the window, staying out of sight as he peeked out.

  The zombies that had been in pursuit of them had turned around and headed towards the school, a bright light in the distance. The Corporal nodded and smiled approvingly.

  “Gilbert, set a timer,” he declared, “for the next thirty minutes, we’re on break.”

  The Private let out a deep sigh of relief and hit his watch before laying across a pew on this back. The troops spread out, stretching their tired limbs, and Herrera stayed at the window, keeping watch on the outside.

  He watched the flood of zombies moving towards the explosion. “Come on, you know you bastards want to go to the bonfire.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dixon led Ayers and Hurst toward the docks, stepping over charred remains of kerosene doused zombies as they went. Three others were in this portion of the neighborhood, using cars to block off side streets, while three remained back at the first blocked-off zone to make sure nothing would sneak up on them.

  As they moved, there was an explosion in the distance. The force of the blast wasn’t much, but it was bright enough to light up a small bit of sky in the distance.

  “God damn Herrera,” Dixon said, eyes wide with awe, “guess you aren’t much for subtlety.”

  Hurst shook his head. “Please don’t get any ideas,” he begged, looking down at the charred corpses. “You’ve already done a good job of burning shit down.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dixon assured him, “I got out with my eyebrows still intact, so I’m calling it a win. Plus, if Herrera asks, we can always say we didn’t see anything.”

  “If it keeps you restrained, then I’m all for it,” Ayers quipped.

  The three soldiers kept their rifles ready as they headed down towards the docks. They were two blocks away from the water, and could already hear the lapping of waves jostled around from the wind.

  At the next intersection, they stopped in the middle, looking both ways. There was a small pack of zombies down a block to the south, and a lone zombie to the north.

  “Don’t see much of a threat here,” Dixon said quietly. “Let’s keep moving, the others can handle it if these guys get frisky.”

  He led them towards the docks, stopping at the end of the road. The only thing separating them from the water was another row of houses.

  “I can only imagine what these cost,” Ayers muttered.

  Hurst smirked. “Maybe if we all pool our money together, we can rent it out for a weekend.”

  “Nah, I’d rather just take it by force,” Dixon replied, and readied his rifle. He led them across the street, stopping at the front door of the nearest house and peeking in the movement. There was a little movement inside, towards the back. “Two at the back,” he said quietly. “Ayers, you’re with me, Hurst, you clear the first floor.”

  They nodded, and he turned the knob, pushing it in quickly. He crept inside with Ayers right on his heels, aiming in tandem and each taking out their targets with a single shot. Hurst swept the first floor, stopping at the stairs.

  “Clear!” he declared.

  “Hit the second floor,” Dixon instructed, “we’ve got the back.”

  Hurst headed up as the other two walked to the back door. They opened it up, revealing a large patio. Dixon stepped out, looking straight out at the water. He couldn’t help but admire the moonlit sand, and then Ayers grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back inside, quietly shutting the door behind them.

  “What the hell?” Dixon hissed.

  Ayers shushed him, and then motioned to the window. Dixon looked out, and t
hen spotted several zombies to either side of the deck, stretching down several houses. He cursed himself for being so distracted by the water.

  “Well, that’s not going to work now, is it?” he muttered.

  Another lone shot went off upstairs, startling the duo. They looked out at the zombies that were moaning and looking around for the source of the noise.

  A few moments later, Hurst entered the room. “Not much upstairs, just-”

  “Shhh!” Ayers hushed him, and Hurst blinked in confusion. His companions motioned to the window, and he peered out, wrinkling his nose. Dixon waved for them to follow, and the trio retreated to the living room.

  “How do you want to handle this?” Hurst asked quietly.

  Dixon pursed his lips as he reloaded his rifle. “Pop in a full mag,” he said, “we pick off a few from the deck and bring ‘em over to us. If there aren’t too many, we bottleneck them up on the stairs and grab a meat tenderizer from the kitchen and do some work.”

  “And if there are too many of them?” Ayers asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Dixon shrugged, holding up his rifle. “That’s why we have the full mags.” He led the group into the kitchen, stopping by the drawers and rummaging around until he found a large meat tenderizing hammer.

  “How did you know they’d have one?” Hurst wondered.

  Dixon smirked. “Place like this with a view like that,” he drawled, “and you know they’re grilling a lot.”

  “Remind me to check the liquor cabinet before we head back,” Hurst replied. “Can’t grill without a drink in the hand.”

  Dixon chuckled. “Just make sure you stash it well,” he warned. “Don’t want to be sharing any with those boat boys who have been lounging around at sea for the last month.”

  “What side do you want?” Ayers asked.

  Hurst inclined his head. “I got right, you go left?”

  Ayers nodded and slid the door open. The three men stepped outside, getting into position, with Dixon waiting at the stairs in the center.

  The duo took aim and fired within a second of each other, quickly popping off several rounds, dropping ghouls on either side of the house. Moans rippled through the air as creatures on both sides emerged from the shadows. What had initially looked like a dozen swelled into three dozen, all of them hungry and coming their way.