Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6

by Slaton, Derek

  She nodded, defeated. “I’ll be on this trip,” she promised. “You have my word.”

  Zion gave her a firm nod before heading into the garage. There was a hive of activity as the four kids worked hard on the mowers. Each of them had a tall metal pole sticking out of the front engine block, with a few civilians helping them out by holding stuff up for welding. A few people brought in weights from the gym, setting them on top of the mowers.

  As Zion watched on, he noticed Calvin waving at him beside the truck.

  “Tori says we’re under ten from heading out,” Zion said as he approached.

  Calvin nodded. “Sounds about right, but I need your help with something first.”

  “Ain’t no time to be playing wingman,” his friend teased.

  The sniper rolled his eyes. “Well I already got the girl, so I don’t need a wingman,” he drawled. “What I do need is your brute strength, and thoughts.”

  “Whatcha thinking?” Zion asked.

  Calvin motioned for his friend to follow him to the far corner of the garage. There was a huge stack of cinderblocks there, maybe forty or so.

  “I was thinking, we got that rebar in the truck that we were gonna use as a last resort to stab these fuckers,” he said, “but what if we could trip some of them up?”

  Zion furrowed his brow in confusion, shaking his head.

  Calvin grabbed two blocks, setting them down on the ground about six feet apart, the holes facing each other from side to side. “Now picture that with half a dozen rebar bolts through there,” he said, motioning. “Stack them two high, put a few at the back to reinforce it. Probably ain’t gonna last too long, but it could very well trip up several batches of them. Every minute counts, you know.”

  “That’s true,” Zion replied thoughtfully, “but the problem is that there’s not going to be a way to secure them to the ground, so they’re just gonna get knocked over.”

  Calvin’s face fell. “No worries man,” he said. “Just trying to think outside the box.” He started to walk back, but Zion continued staring at the blocks.

  “Hold up,” he said, forcing his friend to stop. “Your original idea might not work, but we can still use these.”

  Calvin turned to him. “How so?”

  “These things are heavy and rigid,” Zion said, “so if I was to throw them off of the back of the truck, I could knock some of those things over.”

  The sniper grinned. “Zombie cinder block bowling?”

  “Hell yeah,” Zion replied with a chuckle. “Go get one of the trucks out of the main lot and bring it around back. We’ll start getting it loaded up.”

  Calvin nodded and ran off. Zion perked up when he heard buses honking and made his way outside as Wendy jumped out of one of the shuttles.

  “Here for the next load,” she announced.

  Zion checked his watch. One hour and two minutes. “Cutting this close, ain’t you?”

  “Next time we’ll have to steal something that has more than a go-kart engine in it,” she snapped.

  “I’m sure Fingers and Calvin can whip something up,” Zion replied. “Assuming Fingers is still kicking, that is.”

  The redhead nodded. “He’s good, as are the rest of the boys,” she reported. “They did good down there.”

  “All right, let’s move!” Cheryl bellowed from the doorway. “Move your ass like your people’s lives depend on it!”

  Civilians rushed out of the parking garage, carrying bags full of possessions. All they have left in the world.

  Zion turned back to Wendy. “Now you hurry back,” he said. “We’re gonna buy you as much time as we can.”

  “It was eighty-eight minutes door to door, including unloading at the hotel,” Wendy replied. “Add three minutes to get the next load on here, and five minutes to get past the crossroads.”

  Zion wrinkled his nose. “If you want to speed a little, I won’t complain,” he said.

  They shared a nod, and she retreated to the buses. He checked his watch again, clearing the timer and putting in ninety-six minutes, clicking start as they drove off. He stared at the ticking numbers, and his heartbeat quickened a little.

  The final goal was in sight. They had to make it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Two trucks sped down the interstate, ready to encounter the horde. They didn’t have to go far before they ran into Jermaine, who was in the middle of the road, waving them down. They were about three-quarters of a mile away from the crossroads. Calvin and Zion manned the cinderblock truck, and the college kids drove the trailer truck.

  “Man, I was starting to get worried!” Jermaine cried as they pulled up.

  Zion leaned on the window. “You know I always come through,” he replied. “So how far out are they?” he asked.

  “About five hundred yards up,” Jermaine said, pointing, “can’t miss ‘em.”

  Zion nodded and cocked his head. “You thin ‘em out good?”

  “Kinda,” Jermaine admitted, scratching the back of his head. “There are some big packs in the front and some breaks, but they filled back in a bit. I used everything I had against them.”

  Zion held out his fist. “I know you did, man,” he said, and after a firm fist bump, he got off of the truck. Calvin slid over into the driver’s seat, and Zion sauntered over to the second truck, where Jack sat behind the wheel. “Okay, start getting set up here,” he said.

  Tori leaned over from the passenger’s side. “I was thinking we set one up here, and retreat about a hundred yards before the next one,” she said, and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Gives us a chance to adjust our strategy if we need to.”

  “Have at it, girl,” Zion replied, nodding. “Your boyfriend and I are gonna ride up ahead to try and slow ‘em up a bit.” He checked his watch. Eighty-seven minutes. “We need to keep them on this side of the crossroads for eighty-seven minutes. So do what you need to do.”

  Tori gave him a thumbs up as Jack began a three-point turn so that the trailer was facing the horde. Zion headed back to Calvin’s truck and hopped up into the bed, waving his hand in the air.

  “Let’s move it!” he cried.

  Calvin popped it into gear and drove slowly down the interstate. The headlights cut through the night, and it wasn't long before they caught a glimpse of the horde.

  Thousands of zombies stretched across the northbound side of the road, with a few on the other side of the median, all moving as one. Zion shook his head when he saw there were only a few breakaway groups that had swelled in strength to several dozen each.

  “Well, looks like those molotovs were a bust,” Calvin called through the back window.

  Zion clenched his jaw. “Hopefully the cinder blocks won’t be,” he said. “Get me in position.”

  His friend spun the truck around so that Zion faced the horde. The red brake lights illuminated the immediate vicinity, but didn’t cut too far into the darkness, only about ten yards or so. He picked up a cinderblock and tested the heft in his hands, loosening his knees and waiting for the undead to get within striking distance.

  The moans and footsteps grew louder with each passing second. After a moment, the first creature stepped into the light, ghouls bathed in a hellish red glow. Zion immediately lobbed the cinderblock at the first creature he saw, smashing it in the face and knocking it to the ground.

  “Inch it up every few seconds!” he called back to Calvin.

  The sniper complied, basically letting off the brake and allowing the truck to move a bit on its own in reverse. Zion chucked a few more blocks at the front edge of the horde, knocking down creatures and causing several more to stumble.

  Gotta break these things up, he thought, and then began launching several cement blocks into the darkness, hearing the impact crunching bones he couldn’t see. After several throws, he smacked the hood of the truck.

  “Let’s get back to the line,” he said. “Gotta see how the lopper works before we use any more of these.”

  Calvin sped up, dr
iving a couple hundred yards up to the first machine. Harold and Missy were there with Jack, making the last minute adjustments. The first mower was the smallest one they had, enough for a small home in the city. The most extended up from the engine, with two metal bars sticking out, one of which just cleared the seat and the other a foot above that. They were staggered, looking like a weathervane.

  “Let’s get this thing started up,” Zion said, “they’ll be here in just a couple of minutes.”

  Harold motioned for Missy and Jack to back up as he turned the key on the engine. It roared to life, idling nicely. He ducked down so he was below the seat before flipping a switch on the control panel. Then he crawled out of the way as the metal spokes began to rotate.

  The three college kids hopped into the back of the truck with Zion as they watched the contraption pick up steam, rotating rapidly. They could hear the blades whipping through the air like a chopper.

  Zion nodded in approval. “That’s certainly going to leave a mark,” he said, and smacked the roof. “Back us up, Calvin.”

  The sniper moved, and then they stopped about forty yards from the mower, turning the truck around so that the headlights could illuminate the battlefield. They anxiously awaited the arrival of the horde. It felt like an eternity for them to arrive, with Zion constantly checking his watch.

  It was nearly ten minutes later before the horde came into view.

  The lead zombie shambled towards the weapon and was quickly met with a metallic blow to the face. The impact tore off the front part of its skull, dropping the creature to the ground. More creatures met the same fate, blood and bone spraying everywhere, the moans drowned out by metal whirrs crunching bone.

  The college kids let out whoops and began exchanging high fives, vibrating in their seats.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Zion said tersely, “they’re coming around the sides.”

  They sobered and turned to the mower, and while it did an admirable job of knocking down creatures in the center of the highway, hundreds of creatures walked past it as if it wasn’t even there.

  Calvin popped the truck into reverse and backed up a little as the ghouls got closer to them. As they moved, the mower began to rock back and forth from the constant impact of the blades. Within a few more seconds, it became completely unstable, flipping over onto its side, crashing to a halt.

  Jack pressed his hands to his forehead. “My god, what did we get?” he groaned. “Fifty? Sixty?”

  “That’s not gonna do it,” Missy added, crestfallen.

  Zion checked his watch. Seventy-two minutes. He glanced at the crossroads, seeing it in the distance. He shook his head.

  “No way in hell we’re making this,” he muttered. He looked back at the next mower in the middle of the road, about a hundred yards from their location. “Calvin, get us up to the mower,” he barked.

  The sniper complied, backing up as quickly as he safely could. They reached it and the college kids hopped out of the back to help Tori and Jermaine set up the next lopper.

  Zion leaned out the window. “I need y’all to move that to the next lane,” he said, pointing to the mower.

  “I think it’s more effective in the center,” Tori replied, pushing her glasses up her nose.

  Zion nodded. “Normally you’d be right, but we gotta do something drastic,” he replied, and inclined his head to Calvin. “Get the truck across this lane,” he instructed, pointing out the window.

  “What?” His friend gaped.

  “Get the truck across the lane!” Zion demanded. “Push it up against the end of the concrete median.”

  Calvin shook his head, but didn’t question him, turning and nosing the vehicle against the concrete, nothing but grass on the other side.

  “Make sure those blades have enough clearance on the truck,” Zion said as he hopped out of the passenger’s seat.

  Jack scratched the back of his head. “A horde that size is gonna push through this truck in no time.”

  “Unless I’m up there keeping them off of it,” Zion replied, and the group all froze.

  “Are you crazy?!” Harold burst out, eyes wide. “Those things will swarm over you!”

  Zion simply pointed to his watch. “Sixty-eight minutes,” he said firmly, “and they’re seven hundred yards away. I know those things are slow, but they ain’t that slow.”

  “At least let us stay and fight with you,” Jack said helplessly.

  Zion shook his head. “Nope.” He pointed at the kid. “You need to get the big mower set up back by the crossroads, and figure out some other way to slow them down. I’ll be alright.”

  Harold waved him over while the rest of the group reluctantly piled into the trailer truck to get ready to retreat to the crossroads.

  “Okay,” the kid began, motioning as he spoke, “when they start getting close, you need to turn it on here, and flip this switch. Just make sure you stay low, because those things will kick right on.”

  Zion nodded and extended his fist for a bump, and Harold awkwardly bumped him back. The older man chuckled and waved for him to run back to the truck. After a nervous nod, he took off, and Zion stared towards the coming horde, still a hundred yards away.

  “Looks like I’m gonna have to go all Gandalf on your asses,” he declared. “You shall not pass.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Zion checked his watch. Sixty-one minutes. It seemed like an eternity when the forces of the dead were marching towards him.

  “Seven hundred yards, give or take,” he muttered. “Seven minutes per hundred yards, which means I still need to buy twelve minutes.” He knelt down beside the mower as the ghouls crept within fifteen yards of him. “Let’s get this beast started up.”

  He turned the key and hit the switch before rolling out of the way. Within seconds, the blades rotated rapidly, the breeze from the whipping metal blowing cold on his face.

  He nodded, bouncing from foot to foot, psyching himself up for the upcoming battle before hopping up into the back of the truck. He inspected the cinder blocks, seeing about two dozen remaining, as well as a few lengthy pieces of rebar. He picked up the first block, looking at the coming horde.

  Zion took a deep breath, pulled his arm back, and then flung it forward, sending the cement flying through the air. It went about four rows deep into the horde, cracking a ghoul in the face and dropping it.

  He didn’t waste any time, continuously grabbing blocks and lobbing them as far as he could, doing everything he could to create gaps in the crowd, trying to relieve the stress on the machine. After half a dozen throws, the first batch of zombies reached the truck, gently pressing up against it, reaching out for Zion’s legs.

  He stepped back as far as he could and threw a couple more blocks, creating little pockets within the mass. He picked up a piece of rebar and began using it like a spear, forcefully jamming it into the skulls of the zombies at the edge of the truck. The first few slumped over the edge of the bed, giving him a buffer from the reaching monsters behind.

  As he did this, the first batch reached the lopper, delivering on the promise. Luckily the blades rotated away from him, so the body parts shot into the wooded area beside the road.

  With the zombies directly in front of him taken care of, Zion went back to tossing blocks, this time focused on the groups approaching the mower. He lifted one over his head and threw it almost straight down, knocking over several creatures before they reached the spinning blade of death.

  The process went on for several minutes, Zion taking a breather from throwing blocks to resume his rebar attack, thinning out his area so he had room to operate.

  But eventually, enough of the thousand-strong horde pressed up against the truck that it began to move.

  Zion threw more blocks, knocking over creatures closer to the truck than the lopper, which allowed for the ghouls to bunch up around it. There was a repeated sickening thump, thump, thump from the mower as a batch of zombies entered the kill zone all at once.

 
He glanced over to see it start to wobble, the pole causing the engine to smack up against the interior walls of the mower. Just as another group of creatures walked into it, he saw it failing, and knew it was time to abandon ship.

  Zion leapt from the back of the truck, narrowly missing one of the blades that broke off and snagged the bed of the truck. He darted forward several yards before stopping to turn around. The machinery held back the bulk of the horde for nearly a minute, before the weight of the ghouls forced a hole between the mower and truck.

  He looked at his watch. Fifty-four minutes. He nodded to himself, pleased with what he’d managed to accomplish.

  Just need five more, he thought, hopefully the big boy lopper can do it.

  He turned and jogged back to the line near the crossroads. It only took a few minutes to reach the college kids, doing some last-minute adjustments on the massive lopper in the middle of the road.

  “Holy shit man, you okay?” Calvin blurted, approaching from the truck.

  Zion nodded. “Yeah, that was not a lot of fun,” he admitted, “but it did buy us some time.” He glanced at the mower and noticed they’d attached six-foot chains to the bottom rung of the blades. “Is that gonna work?” he asked.

  Missy shrugged as she checked one of the connections. “In theory,” she replied.

  “Good enough for me,” Zion replied with a nod. He looked back at the truck and trailer, and inclined his head to Calvin. “How much rebar we got left?” he asked.

  The sniper shrugged. “I don’t know, fifteen sticks or so?”

  “Let’s hitch it to the trailer,” Zion suggested, motioning as he spoke, “jam it through the sides so it sticks out as far as possible.”

  Calvin cocked his head. “What are you thinking?”

  “We still gotta buy at least five minutes,” Zion explained, “and even with the upgrades, I don’t think the lopper is gonna be able to handle it.”

  His friend nodded, recognition dawning on his face when he realized what he was suggesting. “So you’re gonna sacrifice the truck?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry, it’s Fingers’ truck, remember?” Zion asked with a lopsided grin.