Dead America The Third Week Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-6 ]

by Slaton, Derek

  “What are you doing?” Angel demanded. “Just gut him and be done with it.”

  Rodriguez shook his head as he began to drag Reed to the SUV, leaving the knife in the wound. “No,” he replied. “He killed one of our own, and he must pay.”

  “That’s what the gutting is for,” Angel argued, miming twisting a knife in his own gut.

  The older man glared at him. “If that’s what your father wants to do, so be it,” he declared. “But I’m not going to make that decision for him, and neither should you.”

  The younger Rivas clenched his jaw, nearly pouting, and then took a deep breath. “Very well,” he finally conceded. “Load him up.” He turned and waved at Leon, still holding the bottle of tequila. “Keep your offering, this is going to be a lot more fun.”

  “Do you want us to load him up?” one of the guards asked, waving at the body.

  Angel grimaced, repulsed. “Hell no, I’m not riding back with that,” he replied, waving his hands in front of his face. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a dead man’s stench out of leather? Leave it for them to clean up.”

  The Cartel guard nodded and got back in the vehicle, followed by the rest of the men.

  Leon watched in silence as they drove off with Reed, a hard knot in his stomach with the knowledge that he was never going to see the kid again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The air horn blared again, signaling that the coast was clear, and Leon’s team came out of their positions, converging in the parking lot.

  Rogers headed out of the command center, crossing his arms. “You think they bought it?”

  “Looks like,” Leon replied with a jerky nod.

  Hammond checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes until they’re back at city hall,” he said. “And maybe an hour or two after that before Reed sets off. He said he’s gonna hold out as long as he can, so hopefully they take their time.”

  “If there’s one thing I know about the Cartel,” Rogers said with a grimace, “it’s that they love to make an example out of people. No quick kills for them.”

  Clara winced, and Trenton swallowed hard, clenching his jaw.

  “I’m sorry you two,” the Detective said gently, shaking his head. “I hope I didn’t come off as flippant. I know the rest of us are desensitized to this type of carnage, but I was just stating facts.”

  They nodded in unison, resolved but quiet as they headed off to gas up the vehicles.

  “Let’s run over the plan one more time,” Hammond suggested.

  Leon cleared his throat. “One hour from now, you detonate the car bomb at the I-10 checkpoint and start a firefight,” he began. “That’ll clear the path for Mathis to get across his checkpoint into the city. You three will fight your way north and east, and get the hell out of the city and back here once the coast is clear.”

  “You remember the car drop-of, right?” Mathis asked.

  The Sergeant nodded. “Corner of Bell and Benton, ten blocks to the north and fifteen blocks east.”

  “Keys will be in it,” the sniper added.

  Leon reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “Mathis, you’re up.”

  “I get in, move to the banker building across from city hall,” he confirmed. “Take my shot, savor the kill for a second, then ditch the gear and get north of the city.” He motioned with his hands vaguely as he spoke. “Hide out at the airport hangars by the base until tomorrow when pickup arrives. And remember, I’m radio silent until I get to the pickup point. Can’t risk one of you guys calling to chat and outing me.”

  Leon nodded and then took a deep breath. “Looks like you guys got it down.” He checked his watch as two SUVs came roaring up the road, skidding to a stop next to them.

  Clara and Trenton hopped out of the drivers’ seats, and walked over.

  “Here you go,” she declared, “gassed up and ready to roll.”

  Trenton raised a hand. “I got the dangerous one.”

  Leon inclined his head to the soldiers, taking a look at his watch again. “And you’d better get a move on in case they pick up speed.”

  The military group loaded up their gear and began to get in.

  Rogers stepped closer to Whitaker. “You be safe, now,” he said quietly.

  “Not getting sentimental on me, are you, Detective?” She smirked.

  He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and then let out a deep whoosh of breath. “And what if I am?”

  Whitaker turned and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, jerking him to her. Their lips crashed together, and she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He barely had time to register what was happening, and put his hands on her hips as his mind reeled with the sudden electrifying sensation of the woman’s mouth on his.

  She playfully shoved him back. “Then you’ll be smart, because I eat that shit up.”

  He stared at her, dazed, and Landry let out a high-pitched whoooo before he ducked into the truck to avoid Whitaker’s glare.

  She winked at the shell-shocked man in front of her. “I’ll see you soon, Detective.” She hopped into the SUV, and Landry turned around in his seat with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Whitaker and Rogers sitting in a tree!” he sang. “K-I-S-S-I-”

  There was the sharp click of a cocking gun, and he swallowed the last of the verse.

  “Okay, I’m done,” he said, putting up his hands and sitting forward.

  Hammond cracked a smile from the driver’s seat, shaking his head as they headed off to war.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mathis parked his SUV off to the side of the road, directly underneath the road sign for Bell and Benton. He jumped out and slung a duffel bag over his shoulder, his sniper rifle and ammo clanging inside.

  The neighborhood was filled with trees, providing some nice shade as he walked along the curb. He lost himself in the soft quaintness of the neighborhood, enjoying the quiet for a few moments before something moved out of the corner of his eye.

  He pivoted towards a nearby house, focusing on a mostly-rotted zombie crawling on the ground, missing its legs. He grimaced and shook his head, turning forward and continuing his walk. As he moved, he spotted several more between the next few houses, all dragging themselves by the arms due to their legs being gone.

  That’s a fucked up security system there, he thought with a shudder. Good thing I noticed that before going for cover.

  He walked up the next driveway before heading for the back of the house. If a patrol came by, his cover would be blown, so he crouched and went into covert mode.

  At the back of the house, he took a wide turn around the corner in case there was another legless zombie waiting for him. There wasn’t, and he was able to see clearly to the next side street, with only a waist-high brick fence in one of the yards a few houses up.

  There was the noise of moans and shuffles from the fronts of the houses, but none of the zombies seemed overly excited or interested in the little bit of noise he was making. He hopped the fence, and as his boots hit the ground, a corpse in a polo shirt staggered out of the back patio door of the house. It had a gaping hole in its neck, but its legs were still mostly intact as it stumbled down the back stairs.

  Mathis paid it no mind, as it was moving fairly slow, but he strained his ears at the sound of a truck in the distance.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and ducked down behind the stone fence. He peeked up over it slightly, scanning the trees and gaps in the houses. A pickup truck flitted through them, making rounds, and he flattened his back against the barrier, keeping out of sight.

  The zombie continued its lumbering gait towards him, and he began to sweat. He couldn’t shoot it without drawing attention, and because it was on its feet, he couldn’t really take it out with a melee weapon either without being seen.

  He pulled his handgun and knife, readying himself, heart pounding in his ears as he heard the truck brake to a stop. The sound of doors opening was followed by men spea
king in Spanish, and panic gripped him as the zombie staggered closer. He didn’t want to get bitten, but he also didn’t want to get in a firefight, either.

  When the zombie got into grabbing distance, Mathis lifted his foot and pushed just under its belt, holding it at bay while still concealing his limbs beneath the stone fence. More Spanish prattled in the distance, and then several shots rang out.

  Bullets ripped through the zombie’s torso, splattering rancid blood all over the sniper. He winced and turned his head, keeping his mouth shut, but holding a close eye on the zombie in case it fell on him.

  There was more stern Spanish barking away, and then another bullet took the zombie’s head clean off, sending it tumbling backward into the grass.

  Mathis stayed stock still, holding his breath as the guys talked back and forth, listening as hard as he could to make sure that it wasn’t getting closer. Soon, there was the sound of car doors slamming, and the truck popped into gear and sped off.

  He sighed with relief and pulled a rag from his pocket, wiping the blood off of his face as he gave the vehicle time to get out of sight. Finally, he peeked up to make sure he was clear again, and then continued across to the side street.

  As he moved down the next few blocks, all he saw were more of the legless zombies, and he wondered darkly if it was supposed to be traps, or if the Cartel had simply enjoyed practicing torture techniques on innocent people.

  The thought made his chest clench a bit, imagining the bastards sawing off Reed’s legs. He didn’t know the kid that well, but even still, he didn’t wish that on anyone. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for the young man, and even more steeled his resolve in what he had to do to Tiago Rivas.

  Mathis continued block by block, finally reaching his position before the checkpoint. He ducked down behind a massive plastic play set in someone’s backyard, peeking inside to make sure there were no mini-zombies hiding inside. Once safely ensconced in bright orange and blue, he pulled out his binoculars and scoped out the checkpoint.

  There were two cars blocking the road, with half a dozen men standing about. The truck that had been doing the rounds pulled up and stopped, a trio of men getting out to join the others. They greeted each other in Spanish, laughing and carrying on.

  Mathis took a deep breath. Okay Hammond, it’s on you now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hammond drove the SUV to within view of the I-10 checkpoint, close enough to see where it was, but far enough away that it would be hard to tell that he was there. The road had been completely clear of vehicles in the two main lanes on both sides of the interstate, however, several had been pushed to the sides of the road. A concrete barrier separated the lanes.

  “Whitaker, I believe this is your stop,” Hammond said.

  She saluted him. “See you boys on the other side.” She extended her fist, receiving a bump from each of them before hopping out of the vehicle and heading to the north side of the highway. She vanished from sight behind the cars on the side of the road, and then into the underbrush.

  “Think she’ll be all right?” Landry asked, a rare moment of sincerity.

  The Sergeant barked a laugh. “Those fuckers aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

  “You want me to get this thing hot?” his partner asked.

  Hammond nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Landry hopped into the back and leaned over to the storage portion of the SUV. There was a block of C4 that had been affixed just over the gas tank. He connected the detonator, and flicked it on before handing the firing device to his superior.

  “There you go, Sarge,” he said with a grin. “One click and it’ll blow this bitch and anybody within twenty yards sky high.”

  Hammond nodded. “Thank you,” he said with a flourish, and took it before looking at his watch. “You should probably get into position as well. We’re on a timetable, after all.”

  They also exchanged a fist bump, and then Landry jumped out of the vehicle. He hopped the barrier for the south side of the highway, and ducked down behind the cars, making his way towards the checkpoint.

  Hammond opened up the center console panel, and pulled out some rope, running it through the bottom of the steering wheel and connecting it to the bottom of the seat. Once it was tight, keeping the wheel steady, he got out of the SUV.

  He opened the back door and reached into the floorboard, pulling out a twenty pound dumbbell. He took a deep, steadying breath.

  “Here we go,” he muttered, and then heaved the weight down onto the gas pedal, sending the vehicle screaming down the interstate.

  As soon as he was clear of it, Hammond hopped the barricade and started running as fast as he could towards the checkpoint.

  The guards began waving their arms wildly as they noticed the vehicle speeding towards them. One pulled out a megaphone, yelling through it to stop. When the oncoming SUV didn’t stop, somebody gave a signal and all of the guards opened fire.

  A torrent of bullets ripped through the vehicle, shredding the interior and pinging against the engine. It didn’t take long for smoke to billow out, and the SUV began to slow down. One of the shooters managed to hit the driver’s side tire, and the vehicle lost control, slamming into the barrier. The screech of metal against concrete filled the air, and the SUV finally came to a smoky stop about thirty yards from the checkpoint.

  Hammond continued to sprint towards it, stopping above fifty yards back. He peeked over the top of the barrier, watching as half a dozen armed men approached the SUV cautiously. He peered past them, noting a few dozen more men standing back at the checkpoint as backup.

  “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “Wish I could have taken more of you boys out, but…” He raised the detonator, readying it. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Hammond hit the button on the detonator. His hair blew back from the force of the blast, which turned the multi-ton SUV into a cloud of dust.

  Afterwards, there was an eerie silence, the only sounds a smattering of gravel and metallic debris falling to the asphalt. As the dust began to clear, ten armed men emerged up the interstate, inspecting their fallen comrades. The ground was littered with body parts, and they stared down at the unmoving limbs with hard glares.

  Hammond watched them fan out and inspect their wider surroundings, and he readied himself, aiming straight down the barricade. He didn’t have to wait long, as two men hopped over the concrete to check the south side of the road.

  He didn’t hesitate, squeezing the trigger to release a three-shot burst that tore into one of the men. As his body crumpled to the ground, his partner leapt back, whipping around just in time to catch another trio of bullets in the center of his chest.

  The gunfire gave away the Sergeant’s position, and he ducked down behind the barrier as a volley of bullets flew in his direction from the remaining men. Chunks of concrete rained down around him, and he covered his head, cursing as some of the bigger hunks smacked into his knuckles.

  He readied himself to return fire, waiting for Landry to make his move. Within seconds, the Private delivered, popping up from behind a trio of sedans on the side of the road. He laid down suppressing fire, spraying wildly in full automatic at chest height. It struck down three of the men, winging one on the arm.

  As the remaining men turned to fire back at him, Hammond popped up, catching two of them by surprise, hitting them in the side with three-round bursts. Before the remaining three could respond, one of the wounded men screamed and shot at him, hitting the barrier.

  A concrete chunk blew off and smacked Hammond right in the face, knocking him right back onto his ass. He sat for a moment, stunned, and reached up to touch his white-hot cheek. He pulled his hand back, seeing blood, and growled.

  “Motherfucker,” he grunted. “You’re gonna pay for that one.”

  He pulled out a grenade, took out the pin with his teeth, and tossed it over the barrier towards the men strewn across the ground. The ones standing screamed in panicked Spanish, an
d the sound of boots on asphalt echoed before the blast went off.

  “That’ll teach ‘em,” Hammond muttered.

  Before he could do a victory dance, however, bullets riddled the wall next to him, and he spotted several men on his side of the interstate, taking up positions behind vehicles on the side of the road.

  He returned fire, missing badly as he hauled himself up and scrambled across the road. He dove behind an overturned pickup truck, and took a deep breath, gathering himself. He looked back to the north side, seeing Landry exchanging fire with Cartel members on his side, a decent thirty yards away but pinned down by the Private’s wild fire.

  Hammond pulled himself up and got into a crouch, peering around to rejoin the fight, but held position as a truck pulled up on the north side with a packed bed. He let out a deafening whistle, getting the attention of Landry, who looked over his shoulder to notice that reinforcements had arrived.

  Nine men leapt from the truck and rushed for the barricade, taking up a defensive position on the north side of the road. Hammond fired over the bumper of the truck, making sure that they stayed on their own side.

  “Any time now, Whitaker,” he grunted.

  As if on cue, she emerged from her hiding spot in the thick underbrush along the north side of the highway. As she hit solid ground, she was level with the shooters who were all fixated on the boys. With a flick of her thumb, she switched her rifle to full auto and took aim.

  Within seconds, her entire thirty round mag was empty, embedded in the backs of nine Cartel members who never saw her coming. Their blood-soaked bodies fell limp on the ground, twitching and convulsing as they bled out onto the road.

  Whitaker rushed forward, slinging her rifle over her back and grabbing one of the fallen AK-47s. She popped up over the barricade and opened fire towards the other Cartel members that were fighting with Landry.

  “Come the fuck on!” she screamed. “Let’s move!”