Dead America The Second Week (Book 11): Dead America: Heartland Pt. 4

by Slaton, Derek

  Herrera nodded and brought the radio back to his lips. “Yes, sir.”

  “I want a progress report in twenty,” the Captain said.

  “Yes, sir,” Herrera repeated, and clipped the radio to his belt.

  “He just grossly abused his rank, and he doesn’t have the power to do what he just did,” Gilbert snarled. “So you need to get back to the line and maybe I’ll forget your little sucker punch.”

  “You may not take your orders seriously, Private,” Herrera said, voice low and calm. He cocked his rifle with a sharp click. “But I sure as hell do. Now get your shit, and get to the line.” He stared down his nose until Gilbert reluctantly peeled himself off of the ground, scurrying back to the line to pick off zombies.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kersey poured himself a cup of coffee in the quiet kitchenette off of the lobby. Normally a commander wouldn’t step away from the action during an operation, but he’d desperately needed a moment to clear his head.

  I’ve never ordered a soldier to take a man’s life, he thought. Let alone a fellow soldier. He reached up and rubbed his temple as he brought the mug of steaming brew to his lips. With the gravity of this situation, however, he’d felt like he had to make a point, make an example of what happens when you don’t follow orders. This was an important mission.

  This world wasn’t the same as it had been two weeks ago, where this level of insubordination would lead to a court martial.

  New world, new tactics, he thought, and took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and walked back into the command center.

  “Ready to get back at it, Captain?” David asked, standing behind the trio of military operators who were in constant contact with the ground forces. He leaned over and pointed to one of the screens, murmuring to one of the guys, before straightening up and offering a smile to the Captain.

  Kersey nodded. “Yep, let’s have it.”

  David tapped one of the troops on the shoulder, and he pulled up a map of the west side of town. Red highlighted the streets parallel to the highway, with a long stretch still uncovered.

  “The west side squads are moving quickly,” he said, “finding moderate resistance. There have been reports of several houses needing to be breached, but the majority have been locked up tight.”

  “Casualties?” Kersey asked.

  David shook his head. “A few minor injuries, but no bites or fatalities.”

  “How about the aerial coverage?” the Captain asked.

  The lanky man flopped down in his comfy computer chair and rolled to face his workstation, pulling up an aerial shot of the area. Kersey leaned in, and the drone hovered a few hundred feet above the action. There were three blocks of houses across two streets, and six teams moved through them, methodically and with purpose.

  There didn’t seem to be much in the way of zombies on the ground, but if a few staggered out, the teams easily dispatched them. One team vanished into a building, and another stood guard outside. A block over, another team checked a house and then spray painted it, marking that it was sealed up tight.

  “They’re moving at a pretty good clip,” Kersey commended. “Is there an ETA on reaching the interstate?”

  “Not yet,” David replied, shaking his head. “There are some big box stores coming up in about half a mile. Once we get a sense of how overrun they are, I can give you an estimate.”

  “I can work with that,” the Captain said. “How’s the east side doing?”

  His charge punched on the keyboard and the drone view changed to another, flying much higher. The stats in the corner of the screen boasted four hundred feet, giving a more complete view of the western portion of the operation.

  “As you can see, there’s a lot more ground to cover on the east side,” David explained. “But let’s zoom in and see what we can see.” He clicked around and soon took control of the drone. He moved the camera around, giving them a panoramic view of the area.

  There was action everywhere as the teams moved through the dense neighborhood. They moved efficiently and methodically like the other teams, clearing and guarding as they moved. There seemed to be more zombies about, but nothing the teams couldn’t handle, and they still seemed to be moving at a good pace.

  “Hang on, shift back over for a bit,” Kersey said suddenly.

  David panned back, raising an eyebrow. “Spot something, Captain?”

  “There,” he held up a hand to stop the shifting, and pointed to a large black mass in the middle of one of the roads. “Can you get me a better shot of that?”

  His drone commander nodded. “I gotcha.” He moved the machine into position and zoomed the camera in.

  The two men blinked and leaned back in unison at the sight. There were hundreds of zombies in the street, a tight writhing mass of rotted flesh, shuffling towards the teams a few blocks up.

  “Get me the two tandems that are working that road,” Kersey said.

  David fumbled a notepad on his desk, checking numbers on the paper and glancing at the screen, back and forth, and back and forth.

  “Sooner would be better than later,” the Captain said wryly, playful but beneath very tense.

  David murmured, “Almost there.” He glanced a few more times and then rolled his chair to the computer station next to him, bumping the soldier there out of the way. “Sorry, going to be quicker if I do it myself.”

  The soldier held up his hands and rolled back, out of the way. “Have at it.”

  David punched a series of numbers into one of the screens and then hit enter, holding out the microphone to the Captain. “There you go, you’re on with the leaders of all those teams.”

  “This is Captain Kersey, is everybody reading me?” Kersey asked immediately, holding the microphone tightly.

  There was a chorus of four yes, sir check-ins, and he nodded.

  “Good,” he said, and straightened his shoulders. “I need you to secure whatever structure you are currently clearing, then immediately move a block south. You have a few hundred zombies headed your way, and they need to be dealt with immediately. We are monitoring the situation from here and will send reinforcements should you need them.”

  “We’re on the move, sir,” one of them replied right away.

  “Someone will be monitoring this channel if you need anything,” Kersey informed them. “Kersey out.” He handed back the headset, and David passed it over to the soldier he’d bumped. They watched with bated breath as the teams quickly wrapped up the houses they were clearing and then moved to the next intersection, three blocks away from the huge horde.

  David and Kersey moved back to the main three-screen drone station, the former waving his soldier back into position to monitor the team’s communication. They watched as the teams got into a firing line, with lone holdouts covering the flank and rear, and then they began to fire. The sustained fire ripped through the approaching horde, and bodies began to fall and pile in the street.

  Kersey pressed his lips into a thin line. Five minutes passed, and the constant firing had definitely reduced the number of zombies left, but there were easily still a few hundred left. The fallen bodies, however, had created a decent barrier to keep the horde from pressing forward.

  “Have one tandem stand guard at the intersection to make sure none of them break through,” he said finally, turning back to the other soldier. “Send the other team back to where they left off.”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier replied, and adjusted his headset to relay the order.

  “Captain, I have Corporal Johnson for you,” David said, holding out his own headset.

  Kersey took it and set it on his head, leaning against the table behind him. “What have you got for me, Johnson?”

  “We had some issues with the trucks, but we’re up and running now,” the Corporal said. “We good to head out?”

  “Stand by,” the Captain replied, and leaned over David. “Can you grab the west side camera and move it to the highway?” he asked.

 
; David nodded. “Sure thing.” He maneuvered the drone so that it was aiming right down the highway, zooming in as far as it could go. There were a few dozen zombies spread out, but nothing that would really pose a danger to the big trucks.

  “Johnson, you’re clear through the shops about a mile or two up,” Kersey said. “Let me know when you hit the interstate.”

  “Ten four, Cap,” Johnson replied.

  Kersey took a deep breath and then clapped David on the shoulder. “Can you get me Bretz?”

  His companion nodded and clacked a few keys on the keyboard before giving him a thumbs up.

  Kersey nodded. “How’s my favorite sea captain doing?” he asked, a lopsided grin erupting on his face.

  “Oh, you know, just picking out which village we want to plunder next,” Bretz replied, equal amusement in his voice.

  “Based on the citizens I’ve seen so far, you may want to skip this town.” Kersey chuckled.

  Bretz joined in. “No shit.”

  “How you boys doing out there?” the Captain asked.

  “We’ve pulled a few thousand to the shores as we move upriver,” the Corporal reported back. “Should be getting close to Post Falls in fifteen or so.”

  In the background of him speaking, Kersey could faintly hear some easy listening music. “Are you guys rocking out to Steely Dan?” he asked, brow furrowed.

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it rocking out,” Bretz admitted, “but the zombies seem to like it okay, so we keep playing it.”

  “Hey, whatever works, right?” The Captain shrugged.

  The Corporal snorted. “Easy to say when you don’t have to listen to it,” he replied dryly.

  “Fair enough,” Kersey replied with a laugh. “Well, you guys can pick up the pace. Johnson and his truckin’ convoy is on the move, so you should be good to hit Post Falls. And feel free to crank it to eleven.”

  “Pretty sure if I did that, Wade would shoot himself,” Bretz admitted, “... or me.”

  “I leave it up to your discretion then.” Kersey chuckled. “Give me a status update once you get into Post Falls.”

  “You can count on it, Captain,” Bretz replied.

  Kersey removed the headset and handed it back to David, who gave him a little salute.

  “All in all, I’d say we’re doing pretty good so far,” the lanky man declared.

  The Captain shook his head and took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “I’ve been in enough operations to know shit can go sideways at a moment’s notice.” He sighed. “So don’t get cocky yet.”

  “Yeah, I can’t really speak from experience there,” David admitted. “Biggest threat I had at my day job was a hawk trying to attack one of my drones.”

  Kersey stared down at him and wrinkled his nose. “Well don’t jinx us, unless you have some spare drones laying around.”

  David pretended to zip and lock his mouth shut, and throw away the key. A laugh escaped the Captain’s mouth at the grown man acting like a little kid, and he clapped his unlikely comrade on the shoulder before turning back to the screen.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kowalski raised an eyebrow at Wade, gun right next to his ear, firing his weapon at a consistent clip and reloading as fast as he could.

  “You trying to go deaf there, bud?” he asked.

  Wade wrinkled his nose. “If it means I don’t have to listen to this shit anymore, I’m all for it.”

  The yacht rock blared on as Kowalski chuckled, drawing zombies to the riverbank. He returned to his own scope, taking aim at some corpses that emerged from behind a waterfront house. He dropped all three, but more quickly took their place.

  “This is a full-on infestation,” Kowalski said, lips twisting into a frown. “I don’t know how we’re ever going to get all this cleared out.”

  “It’s going to take longer than anyone wants to admit,” Wade replied. “Especially with the limited manpower we have.”

  His partner nodded. “There’s what, a couple hundred thousand of us troops left? Against a few hundred million zombies?”

  “Just means every one of us has to take out a thousand of these things,” Wade said.

  Kowalski aimed and fired to accentuate his point. “Well, I’m going to do my part.”

  His partner smiled briefly, and he aimed, but his next shot missed as the boat suddenly slowed down. “What now?” he asked.

  Kowalski rolled to the side to look at the Corporal on the other boat. “Hey Bretz, what’s going on?”

  He pointed up ahead to a fork in the river. There was a small inlet in the middle, and it appeared to go up for quite a ways around the bend and out of sight.

  “Looks like that cuts up towards the town,” Bretz said. “What do you think?”

  Kowalski shrugged. “I think as long as we get to shoot these undead assholes, we really don’t care where we go.”

  “Love the attitude, Private,” Bretz replied dryly, and turned to Mason who still stood behind the controls. “You heard the man, Mason, let’s go find some more targets.”

  The private nodded. “You got it.” He pushed forward, pulling in ahead of the other party boat, taking the lead in the narrow inlet.

  Bretz pursed his lips as he surveyed the fifteen or so feet on either side of the boat between them and the shores. “Kill the music,” he instructed. “I don’t like how close we are to land. And fire only if necessary.”

  Wade did a barrel roll off of the roof and hit the music, grinning with victorious glee as blessed silence befell them.

  The boats moved quietly up the waterway, only the rumbling of the engines reverberating in the air. A few dozen zombies staggered around on the banks, but they were spread out thinly, and only a few dared to take steps into the water. Others wandered dumbly through the tall grass.

  Around the net bend, there was a clearing on the land, and Bretz squinted at the visible section of the interstate. “Kowalski, can you see anything?” he asked.

  The Private stood up on the roof and aimed his rifle toward the roadway. On the north side of the interstate, there was a massive horde, many of them stuck at the barrier but some flopping over onto the south side.

  “There’s a whole mess of ‘em on the north side of the roadway,” he reported.

  “Can our trucks get through?” Bretz asked.

  Kowalski held out a hand flat and wiggled it back and forth. “South side doesn’t look too bad, but I wouldn’t risk the north side. One jackknife and that whole convoy is fucked.”

  “Mason, I think we got what we came for,” the Corporal said. “Flip us around and take us back to the main waterway.”

  The Private nodded and began a slow arc to turn around. “You got it.”

  As the party boats turned to make their way back, Bretz pulled out his walkie talkie. “Hey Cap, come in, we’ve got a problem here.”

  “What you got for me?” Kersey asked immediately.

  “Whole lot of congestion on the north side of the interstate,” Bretz reported. “At least several hundred but could easily be a few thousand. We have an obstructed view, so we can’t say for sure.”

  There was only a short pause before the Captain replied, “Can the trucks get through on the other side?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but they’ll have a better shot at it,” Bretz replied.

  “I’ll let ‘em know,” Kersey said. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll be in touch if we come across anything else,” the Corporal promised.

  “Be safe,” Kersey replied, and the line went dead.

  Bretz sighed as the boats swung back around the fork. There was only a handful of zombies on the shore, with a lot less coming out of the woodwork than had been before.

  “All right,” he said loudly, “let’s get the tunes going again and you can resume firing.”

  Wade groaned, throwing his arms up dramatically.

  “Sorry, bud.” Bretz chuckled. “Next stop, the state line.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Her
rera stood on top of the toppled tractor-trailer, popping off shots straight down into the sea of zombie heads. A few troops stood beside him, including the recently demoted Gilbert, who was haphazardly firing into the ghouls and missing most headshots.

  “I know you’re pissed Gilbert, but don’t waste ammo,” the Corporal snapped.

  Gilbert wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything, simply slowing down his shots and taking more care with his aim. A few moments later, he lowered his gun and put his hand to his face with a sigh.

  “Keep shooting,” Herrera growled.

  Gilbert sighed even harder. “In a minute, that sucker punch you gave me is stinging.”

  The Corporal scoffed and stormed over to his ex-superior, eyes flaming. “Good men died because of your ego. Nothing you can do will bring them back, but you can be damn sure you’re not going to sit here and whine.” He pointed a finger in the flushed man’s face. “Now start firing.”

  Gilbert swallowed hard and raised his gun, beginning his calculated firing again. Herrera, satisfied, headed back to his spot and looked over the horde. There were hundreds of bodies piled up in front of the truck, which was progress, but the noise had drawn thousands more. Creatures still staggered out of neighborhoods, thickening the count by the second.

  “Keep an eye on things here, I’m going to go check the other side,” he said to the soldier to his left. He motioned to Gilbert. “And don’t let this one give you any trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier replied with a salute, and the Corporal hopped down off of the back of the overturned truck onto the SUV. He slid down off of it and hit the pavement, gazing down the interstate to the west. There were faint moving dots in the distance, and pre-apocalypse he would have assumed cars, but now he knew better.

  He shook his head, not for the first time, at how quickly the world had gone to shit. He reached the other side of the bridge, and there were a few men on top there, picking their shots and taking them. Another SUV was wedged into the side to prevent zombies from popping through but there was still a four foot gap beneath the truck.