Dead America The First Week (Book 7): Portland

by Slaton, Derek

  Speaking of grunts, two corpses made nearly the same noises as him as they rounded the corner at the end of the aisle. Zion, happy for the distraction, grabbed his baseball bat and easily bashed their brains in, leaving little pops of crimson on the white store wall.

  “So what’s your story, man?” Brent asked as his companion joined him again. “I’ve heard rumors you were a gang member in California.”

  Zion didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said gruffly, pulling down another box of lights.

  “Look, I’m just saying, some of our residents are nervous,” his companion said, his voice in that political tone he liked to hold while he felt he was being a diplomat.

  Zion growled. “And what would you do if it were true, huh?” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “Confine me to a room? Kick me out?” More grunts, and he turned and headed purposefully to the group of zombies that had been attracted to their noise. It took less than ten seconds to dispatch them all by crushing their skulls, and he turned back to Brent, blood splattered across his shirt. “Or would y’all realize that it’s a good thing?”

  The leader took in a breath, seeming to choose his words carefully. But before he could reply, a gunshot sounded from outside. They shelved their argument and each grabbed one of the overloaded carts, pushing them quickly down the aisles to outside.

  As they shoved open the front doors, they didn’t see much going on. There were no zombies, just Jerry and Cory standing in front of a guy sitting on the ground in military fatigues. They pushed the carts to the van and left them there to assess the situation.

  “What’s going on?” Brent asked.

  Calvin stood on top of the van, waving his gun around, eyes wide. “I saw a scope in the woods! This guy is a fuckin’ spy!”

  “Hey, calm down,” the leader said, using that diplomat voice again.

  “I’m not going to calm down, we need to put this guy back where he came from and get the fuck outta here,” Calvin insisted.

  Brent’s brow furrowed. “And where did you come from?” he asked.

  “He wouldn’t tell us, either,” Cory said after it was apparent the guy wasn’t going to answer. “He just begged us to take him with us back to wherever we live.”

  “We should leave him,” Zion said firmly. His gut churned at the sight of the guy on the ground, and though he was immune to Calvin’s panic there was something very wrong about this situation.

  “No,” Brent replied, surprising all of them when he shook his head. “We could use a military guy. We need more manpower to defend the complex.”

  Zion raised an eyebrow. The guy didn’t look like he had very much manpower left in him. “Even a coward who abandoned his duty?”

  “We don’t know if he did that,” Brent replied, steel in his eyes as if he were challenging Zion to continue arguing with him. “His unit might have just been overrun. He could be dealing with some traumatic stuff.”

  “Then he’ll just be a liability,” Jerry spoke up. “We don’t need more people to babysit.”

  “What did you find in the superstore?” Brent changed the subject abruptly.

  Cory held up the mostly empty bag of canned goods. “Not much.”

  “Okay, you two go check out the burger joint over there and then we’ll head out,” the leader instructed.

  The two slunk away, not happy with their dismissal but not wanting to argue. They had a feeling that Zion would argue just fine for them while they were scavenging.

  “We need to leave him behind,” Calvin said again as he slid down the windshield and hit the asphalt hard on his feet. “I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all.”

  “You don’t have to like it,” Brent snapped. “All you have to do is follow orders. And I say he comes with us.”

  Zion clenched a fist. “Something is off about him. I don’t like it.”

  “Look, we can’t just do things based on gut feelings,” Brent began, that diplomatic drone creeping into his tone once again. “I have a responsibility to our people, and it’s not easy to be the one who has to make the tough decisions. But somebody has to do that, and that somebody is me. I know what’s best for the complex, and what’s best is to have the best defense to keep our people safe. I need to-”

  Zion did roll his eyes this time with a scoff. “Listen, you condescending-”

  “Hey!” Jerry called as he and Cory approached, hauling a large keg of beer between the two of them. “No food, but it wasn’t a total loss!” He grinned.

  Brent shook his head. “No, we’re not lugging that thing around.”

  Zion narrowed his eyes. “A real leader would understand the importance of a happy populace.” Slight sarcasm laced his tone, and the two stared at each other for a beat before Brent waved his hand.

  “Fine, load up the keg,” he relented. “And our new friend.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brent led the vans to the front doors of the apartment complex instead of the underground lot, so that it would be easier to load up the supplies to where they needed to go. Everyone bustled out, and Calvin pulled Zion around to the front of the van out of earshot of the others.

  “I’m heading in to prep another apartment,” he said, quietly as if it were some big conspiracy.

  Zion nodded, and as soon as he left he headed to the back of the van where their new friend, whose name turned out to be Benny, stood nervously. A few guys came out of the front to help unload the supplies, and Brent pulled Benny out of the way.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” he said, not unkindly, and led him along the perimeter of the building. Zion followed at a respectful pace behind, not wanting to be overbearing but not quite ready to let this guy have his roam of the place yet.

  He wasn’t surprised to find Jerry had joined him, and the two brought up the rear of the guide group.

  “We have a few empty apartments in here that had been bought but never moved in to, so we’ll get you one of those to stay in,” Brent was saying. “Eventually if we find enough survivors some of the singles will have to double up, which will mean you. All the one bedrooms are taken already by those that already lived alone and like it that way, so our few empty units are two bedrooms which will mean sharing space. There aren’t any three bedroom units here, so no worrying about too many people up in your face all the time.

  “This is where we’re growing food for now,” he continued, motioning to one of the gardens. “We’re working on growing food inside for the colder months, with Calvin being an experienced plant cultivator.”

  Jerry snorted.

  “We’ve got round-the-clock perimeters set up, so no worrying about any zombies coming up here,” Brent said, ignoring his comrade. “What do you think?”

  “S’nice,” Benny replied hoarsely.

  The leader put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about what’s happened to you?”

  The military man shook his head, jerking back and forth violently, lips pressed in a thin line.

  “Okay,” Brent relented with a sigh. “Come on, let’s find you an apartment. I’ll send somebody over with some food for you, too.”

  Zion was glad that Brent didn’t do a full tour, as in he didn’t show him where the armory was. He didn’t trust this guy as far as he could throw him, and showing him the gun cache was a bad idea at this point.

  They stopped at a second-floor apartment and Brent unlocked it, opening the door for their new charge. “I hang on to all the keys, just in case of an emergency,” he explained, pocketing the large keyring. “We all share everything anyway, so you don’t have to worry about people messing with your stuff while you’re out. Get some rest.” He smiled, and Benny nodded wearily, closing and locking the door behind him.

  Brent turned to Jerry with a somber expression. “Stay here and keep an eye on this door,” he said quietly. “If you get tired, make sure that somebody switches off with you. I want twenty-four hour surveillance here.”

 
; Zion’s shoulders relaxed. He was glad that the leader was at least being careful. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours, man,” he promised, and clapped his friend on the shoulder before heading back to his own apartment.

  Monique looked like she’d just returned from somewhere as he entered, as she was just setting a pile of books on the kitchen table. She shrugged out of her coat with a smile.

  “You’re back sooner than I thought,” she said.

  Her brother nodded. “It was a bit of a bust, the stores were looted already. We didn’t get much food, but we got a ton of greenhouse supplies.”

  “That’s something, at least,” she agreed, and then furrowed her brow. “What is it?”

  “We picked up a straggler,” he admitted. “And there’s something… off about him.”

  “Off, how?” she asked.

  Zion shook his head. “We all had a bad feeling. He was cowering in the superstore in military fatigues, all sketched out. None of us wanted to bring him back, but Brent insisted. Now even he put a watch on the guy’s door because he’s being careful… and I just wonder why we even bothered bringing him back. Seems like too big a risk to me.”

  “Z,” Monique said gently, offering a smile to her brother. “I know it’s hard to trust people nowadays. Hell, it was hard to trust people before all of this. But there ain’t that many people left in the world. When we find those in need, especially when they’re alone and vulnerable, isn’t it up to us to protect and help them? Otherwise what kind of world are we building here?”

  One where we survive, Zion thought to himself, but didn’t voice this. He knew better than to argue with her. He simply nodded.

  “I’m going to crash for a bit,” he said. “Wake me up before you head to bed, yeah? I’m going to go relieve Jerry for overnight.”

  “I’ll leave dinner out for you,” she promised.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zion’s eyes shot open at the crack of gunfire outside. Monique burst into his bedroom, stopping short when she saw him sitting up. He dove from the bed, hastily pulling on his jeans from the floor.

  “How did zombies get all the way up here?” Monique worried. “They-”

  Gunshots echoed in the hallways, and her brother’s gaze darkened. “That ain’t zombies,” he replied. This fight sounded two-sided, and unless the corpses had figured out how to use guns, then there was no way that this wasn’t some kind of attack. “Hide.”

  “No, Z, you can’t-” she pleaded, but he grabbed his bat and brushed past her.

  He cracked open their door and peeked out, screams bouncing around the corridor as he saw men in military fatigues dragging people out of their apartments at gunpoint. He shut the door.

  “Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath, and turned to his wide-eyed sister. “Hide. Now,” he demanded, and she nodded jerkily, this time complying with his wishes. She scurried back to the bedroom, and as Zion turned back to the door, it imploded.

  A burly military man burst in, and Zion immediately lunged for him, bat flying. The guy caught it and wrenched it free of his attacker’s grip, going for the throat. Zion ducked, clocking him with an epic uppercut that snapped the meathead’s face back. He took the opportunity to dive on top of him, knocking them both to the floor, where he pummeled the holy hell out of the guy’s face.

  There was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then everything went black.

  ***

  When Zion came to, he was very aware at the cool grass beneath his bare back. He groaned and his sister looked down at him, her expression relieved that he was conscious. He sat up slowly, taking in the clusters of apartment dwellers around him. There were moans and crying and whispered conversations, with more shots and yells from inside in the background.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Monique quietly, barely audible, eyeing the soldiers standing guard over their group.

  She took his hand in hers tightly. “Looks like the military has taken over,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t know what they want, yet.”

  The gunshots subsided and a group of army guys poured out of the front doors, the last few stragglers in tow. They dumped the beaten and bloody victims with the rest of the group, and Zion looked around, mouth in a grim line. Nobody looked like they were in very good shape.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” one of the attackers stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. His uniform looked freshly pressed and he didn’t have a speck of blood on him. “I am Sergeant Holcomb, and I am in charge of this facility now.” He paused for effect, a smile on his face.

  Zion couldn’t help but feel like this guy could give Brent a run for his money in the faux-diplomat department. Except this Sergeant had some insanity in his eyes that did not bode well for them.

  “Please don’t kill us,” somebody begged tearfully.

  Holcomb cocked his head in their direction. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill any more of you than I have to,” he said, sounding sincere and regretful. “I apologize for the theatrics, but I had to make sure that I had you all in one spot and that you understand your place.” He began to pace back and forth in front of the group, one hand still behind his back and the other raising to accentuate his speech. “You see, in times like this, the end times of the world, there is an opportunity. An opportunity for greatness to rise to the challenge. I am rising to that challenge. I am proving my greatness.

  “And so, I am taking this facility. It is mine now. Those of you who are fortunate enough to still have your lives are welcome to stay here, but you must abide by my rules if you are to be my loyal subjects. Obey me, and you will be treated fairly.” He paused, clenching his hand into a fist. “Defy me or my men, and you will be punished.” He snapped his fingers, and a group of his men marched into the crowd to drag certain community members to the sidelines.

  A soldier with a very broken face jerked Zion up by the arm, shoving him towards the lineup and down onto his knees. Monique leapt to her feet and shoved the soldier, attempting to run to her brother, and he stopped her with a sneer, raising his gun to her chest.

  Holcomb pushed down on the gun barrel, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “Shooting dissidents is too easy,” he said calmly, and the soldier backed off. The Sergeant wound his fist into Monique’s hair, and licked his lips uncomfortably close to her ear. “You just earned yourself a spot with these insurgents.” He shoved her down onto her knees in front of Zion, and she scrambled to her brother, clutching his arm.

  Holcomb walked to one end of the line, bending to stare with amusement into Brent’s seething face. “Violence against me or my men will not be tolerated,” he declared, and straightened up, pacing back in front of Jerry, then Cory, then Calvin. “A zero-tolerance policy, if you wish. There will be no warning. You stay in line, or you pay the price, no negotiations or hesitation.” He raised his hand and waved to his men. “This ragtag group of bandits is going to be made an example of. Take them to the center of the city and leave them there.”

  “No, no please!” Tom begged, falling forward on his hands, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Please, I didn’t mean to take a swing, I was just trying to protect my wife, please!”

  “What did I just say?” Holcomb clucked his tongue again. “Zero tolerance.” He stepped to the end of the line where Zion hadn’t moved a muscle, but simply stared daggers up at the Sergeant. “Maybe in your next life, you’ll learn to show your superiors some respect,” Holcomb declared.

  Zion stayed still, eyes hard. “Not done with this life yet.”

  The Sergeant’s eyes widened the slightest bit, and then he straightened, glaring down his nose at what he viewed as scum beneath his boots.

  Holcomb waved his hand. “Exile them.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The group was somber save for Tom’s sniffling as the military transport began to head down the driveway of the apartment complex. They all sat across from each other, hands tied behind their backs securely. />
  “Fuckin’ idiots!” Benny cackled from the front seat, hanging into the back to taunt them. “You shoulda gone with your guts, huh? Now you ain’t gonna make it til tomorrow!”

  The guy with the busted face that Zion had beaten up drove, and glanced over his shoulder to give a smirk that looked more like a grimace to the prisoner in question.

  “You all better be sayin’ your goodbyes to each other,” Benny continued in a singsong voice, “because were we’re takin’ ya, you ain’t gonna last very long, fuckin’ morons!” His voice was a loud maniacal screech, like nails on a chalkboard.

  Zion decided he liked him much better when he was playing subdued PTSD soldier. He looked down at his sister’s grim expression beside him. He wished better for her. But he couldn’t help but feel that she’d be safer with him than back at the complex. Had she been left there by herself, he wouldn’t have been there to run any interference, and who knew what these assholes were going to do to the women.

  As the transport headed into the city, the noise of the engine attracted hordes of zombies.

  “Whoo, look at that!” Benny exclaimed as they ran over corpses, leaving tons to stagger after them in their wake. “They gettin’ ready for their midnight snack! You pussies ready? Ready to be zombie chow?”

  They managed to get ahead of the mob into a large parking deck. Up and up they drove, to the very top of the five story parkade. They cut the engine and the only sounds were the heavy breathing of the prisoners and the echoing groans of the dead as they made their way up to claim their meal.

  “Come on, now!” Benny cried brightly as he opened the back of the transport, grinning ear to ear. “Everybody out!”

  When nobody moved, the other guy reached in and grabbed Calvin’s shoulder, jerking him out and down to the asphalt.