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

by Slaton, Derek

  “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.

  “That hammer isn’t gonna do much good,” Ayers warned, and Dixon nodded, dropping it and stepping back.

  The duo on the left did a good job of clearing out a dozen or so zombies in a short period of time, bullets ripping through skulls.

  When they were down to about eight, Hurst bellowed, “Need a hand over here!” He panic fired, sending three-round bursts into a crowd of zombies.

  Dixon dashed over, seeing several zombies had made it to the front of the deck. He hopped up on the banister, aiming straight down and opening fire in three-round bursts. The bullets ripped through the tops of the heads as well as the shoulders, depleting his mag. He reloaded as he surveyed the carnage, seeing most of the ones in the front had dropped.

  Ayers approached as Dixon hopped back down from the railing. “My side is clear,” he said, and then glanced over the side. “Damn man, you fucked ‘em up.”

  “Never underestimate what a bit of panic fire can do,” Dixon replied as Hurst resumed single shots into the smaller horde.

  “Clear,” he reported, lowering his gun.

  The soldiers congregated on the right side of the deck, surveying the three dozen bodies sprawled in the grass. Dixon patted Hurst’s shoulder a few times.

  “Come on,” he said, “we gotta find something to let the boys know where to land.”

  The trio headed inside and began rifling through closets, Hurst taking the garage. He entered the main house again, holding a stack of tiki torches.

  “Hey, think this will work?” he asked.

  Dixon inspected them, finding the fuel reserves full. “Lighting the way,” he said, and took a long sniff of the citronella, “and keeping the mosquitoes away. Bonus. Let’s get them set up and we’ll leave them a note on the sliding glass door letting them know where we are.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Herrera and his team hid inside a gas station across the street from the large shopping center. There were four large anchor stores, along with several hundred yards worth of smaller stores. There were easily a few hundred zombies that they could see from their vantage point, milling about in the parking lot area. The solar powered street lights were still bright, just as if it were any other night, except the glow illuminated rotted heads as opposed to Christmas shoppers.

  The soldiers shared a lukewarm bottle of water and some salty snacks.

  “Doesn’t look like that school did nearly enough for us,” Greer said dryly.

  Choi swallowed a mouthful of chips and shrugged. “It got us this far, didn’t it?”

  “Hundreds passed by the church, and that was just from what I could see,” Herrera pointed out.

  Gilbert nodded. “HI would much rather face a few hundred than a few thousand.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Greer agreed, and then sighed. “Still, would have been nice if it was totally clear.”

  Eason took a deep breath. “So how are we doing this?”

  “We’re not going to bother going through the stores,” Herrera replied. “We’re just gonna head around back and go straight for the trucks.”

  Greer shook his head. “Man, that’s one hell of a run on foot,” he said dryly. “Especially if the back of the stores looks like the front. Really easy to get bottlenecked in there.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” the Corporal admitted.

  “What about that pickup truck just across from us?” Gilbert asked, motioning to a shiny truck on the edge of the parking lot. “I mean, we’re going to need transport from the western bridge anyway, might as well kill two birds.”

  Eason nodded thoughtfully. “If we’re going to do that, wouldn’t it be smarter to backtrack to the nearly empty neighborhoods, though?” he asked.

  “Don’t know about you, but all I saw were luxury sedans in the driveways,” Gilbert pointed out. “If we have to plow through these fuckers, we’re going to need something with a little more oomph.”

  Choi sighed. “Downside to being on a rich person’s island,” he said. “Heavy duty trucks aren’t real popular.”

  “Corporal, what do you think?” Greer asked.

  Herrera cocked his head. “Who knows how to hot-wire a car?”

  Choi looked back and forth, and then hesitantly raised his hand.

  The Corporal raised an eyebrow. “That didn’t look very confident,” he said.

  “Because it isn’t,” Choi admitted, lowering his hand. “It’s been years since I’ve done it.”

  Gilbert leaned forward. “Question is, can you do it now?”

  “I think I can,” Choi replied, though his voice didn’t sound sure.

  “We’ll buy you as much time as we can,” Herrera decided. “If it doesn’t work, we say fuck it and make a run for the back, and we’ll worry about transport later.”

  There was a murmur in the affirmative, and Choi nodded, rubbing his hands together to psych himself up.

  “Okay,” the Corporal continued, “we make a perimeter around the truck. Weapons hot, but only fire when it becomes necessary. As soon as that first shot fires, we’re going to be the belle of the ball. Choi, when you get it started up, everybody pile into the back and you haul ass to the rear of the stores. First batch of trucks you see, we get to work. Greer, you’ll be on pickup duty.”

  Greer nodded. “I’ll handle it,” he said, “but where are we getting the truck keys from?”

  “A lot of these stores keep the keys in the back office in case of an emergency,” Herrera replied. “We get in, find them, and move out. The interstate is due north of here. First two trucks take the inner loop, other two take the outer. CB channel eight, and we’ll make the call on where to block the road based on conditions.” He paused, looking at his team. “Ready?” At their affirmative, he said, “Let’s move.”

  The Corporal led t
he group outside, everyone with their assault rifles at the ready save for Choi. They raced across the street, looking both ways and seeing a smattering of zombies in the road a ways down.

  When they hit the shopping center lot, they raced for the truck. There were a few dozen zombies within sight, straight ahead and several stores up. Gilbert and Greer kept them in their sights, coming around the side of the truck.

  Herrera and Eason turned to the right, looking down the other row of stores, seeing an alarming number of ghouls there, easily a hundred strong with the closest being only fifteen yards away.

  “Steady,” Herrera said quietly, “don’t shoot until they move towards us.”

  Both men kept their aim true, waiting for the moment. Choi tried to open the driver’s side door, but it was locked. He tried the passenger side, but it was locked too, so he pulled out his metal baton and gave the corner of the window a hard strike, shattering the glass.

  At the noise, the closest zombie to the Corporal whirled around and stared at them, staggering forward.

  “Don’t shoot, I’ll take it out,” Herrera whispered, and pulled his knife, inching towards the ghoul.

  Choi unlocked the truck and then slid over to the driver’s side, opening the door to duck down beneath the dash.

  As Herrera approached the zombie, it let out an excited moan, which gained the attention of several more ten yards behind it. In turn, they began to moan and shamble towards the truck, setting off a chain reaction.

  The Corporal gulped, adrenaline spiking. “Start shooting, start shooting!” he cried, and raised his weapon. He hit the closest ghoul in the face at point blank range, dropping it. He and Eason began firing single shots, hitting the creatures one by one, but barely putting a dent in the horde.

  Gilbert and Greer stood fast, keeping a close eye on the zombies in the distance as they, too, began working their way towards the truck. As the fire intensified behind them, Gilbert clenched his jaw.

  “How’s it going, Choi?” he barked.

  “A lot better if you’d stop bothering me,” his teammate yelled from below the dashboard. His speech was muffled by the flashlight between his teeth as he stared intently at the wiring. He picked and chose the wires carefully, finally shaking his head and thinking, fuck it. He stripped two of them and sparked them together, relieved as the engine came to life. He tied them together, the engine purring.

  He dropped the flashlight and yelled, “Everybody in!”

  The firing continued as the four soldiers backed up to the truck, and then clambered into the bed. Greer smacked the roof of the cab once they were clear.

  “We’re in, let’s move!” he bellowed.

  Choi popped the truck into gear and raced away, just as the horde reached them. A few zombies made a mad grab, but missed as the vehicle sped away from their outstretched hands.

  They drove around the back of the stores, racing down the street in search of trucks. It wasn’t long before they encountered six of them sitting at the giant loading dock for the Super Center. Choi put the truck in park and hopped out.

  “Greer, you’re up,” he said.

  “Gilbert, on me,” Herrera said as he hit the pavement. “You two, start getting those trucks opened up and keep watch. We might have company soon.”

  Everyone got in position as the Corporal ran up to the back door. They got ready and threw it open before rushing inside, flashlights and guns pointed forward.

  Herrera caught a glimpse of a couple zombies wandering about. He quickly aimed and fired, knocking them out. The soldiers stood quietly for a moment, waiting to hear moans, but nothing came. They scanned the loading dock for the office.

  “Got it,” Gilbert said, and rushed over to the small room. He burst in as Herrera stayed at the door, keeping watch. He heard the doors to the store opening up slowly, putting him on high alert.

  “Hold up, I hear something,” he hissed into the room, and Gilbert froze in his rummaging.

  The Corporal stepped away from the office to get a better view of the doors. He shone the flashlight in that direction and saw half a dozen zombies pouring through. He immediately raised his weapon and fired.

  “Find those keys, Gilbert!” he barked, shooting more ghouls, striking them with great accuracy, adrenaline pounding in his ears.

  “Got ‘em!” Gilbert yelled, emerging from the office with the ring in his hand.

  Herrera fired off a few more rounds, and they raced to the back door, slamming it shut and securing it. “Find the trucks that match these, and let’s hit the road,” he said as Gilbert distributed the keys.

  The soldiers all went to work, taking more time than Herrera was comfortable with locating the correct trucks. Finally, all four were inside cabs, starting them up and switching to channel eight on the CB.

  “Okay, listen up,” Herrera said into the radio. “I’m out first, Eason you’re with me, and we’re taking the inner loop. Gilbert, you and Choi are on the outer. Head west onto the bridge. We’re going to go for at least a thousand yards. The further we can get the better, because it’ll give us room to expand this blockade later. Now let’s roll out.”

  He jammed the truck into gear and it lurched forward, taking a moment to get it moving smoothly. The rest of the trucks followed him out in a rumbling convoy.

  As they made the turn onto the road to head north, several of the zombies from the shopping center parking lot poured onto the road. Herrera moved a little to the side to avoid the bulk of them, but still managed to crush a handful under his tires, bringing a smile to his face.

  There was little resistance to the interstate, with the trucker tandems making their respective turns onto the proper interstate loops, smashing into a few straggler creatures as they went.

  The interstate was mostly empty, with a few broken-down cars. The Corporal was amazed at the lack of debris everywhere.

  “Is it just me, or is this interstate eerily creepy?” he asked into the radio.

  Choi crackled through, “The airport here is a major hub, so if anybody coming out of Austin was flying international, it would have spread here quickly,” he replied. “Doesn’t look like a lot of people had time to react.”

  “Maybe,” Gilbert cut in, “or maybe it could have been aliens!”

  There was some light laughter across the radio.

  “Aliens?” Choi scoffed. “Really, man? Don’t tell me you believe in that nonsense.”

  “Dude, we’re driving trucks so we can block off a bridge to prevent the living dead from getting through,” Gilbert replied. “All bets are off at this point.”

  Eason chuckled and added, “Man’s got a point.”

  The playful banter cut short as Herrera caught a frightening glimpse, forcing everyone to slam on the brakes.

  There were thousands of zombies on either side of the bridge, all slowly making their way across.

  “Holy mother of god,” Choi breathed.

  “How far out are we, Corporal?” Eason asked.

  Herrera swallowed hard, mouth dry. “Far enough,” he replied. “Let’s block it off.”

  The four trucks did their best to stretch across the entire four lanes on either side of the bridge, with one truck resting against the barrier and the other doing the same on the opposite side, doubling up in the center.

  When in position, the men got out of their vehicles and stood in silence, seeing the mass of creatures headed towards them.

  Greer eventually snapped them out of it by honking the horn. “Come on!” he urged. “If there’s this many on this side, there could be a whole hell of a lot more on the other.”

  Herrera and Eason exchanged a concerned glance, before turning to hitch a ride back. Before he went, the Corporal pulled out his handgun and fired several rounds into the large wheels of the barricade truck. As the air seeped out of them, they lowered another foot.

  Shots went off on the other side as Gilbert caught on to what he was doing.

  “What was that for?” Eason asked, scra
tching the back of his head.

  Herrera shook his head. “Some of these things may climb under,” he replied. “Don’t want to make it easy for them.”

  Gilbert and Choi approached the gap between the bridges, which was only a few feet wide. They hopped up and jumped over the shot gap, meeting up with the others.

  They clambered up into the truck bed and Eason slapped the roof, prompting Greer to turn it around and head back towards the Shopping Center.

  Herrera watched through the gap in the trucks as the mass of rotting flesh came ever closer.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dixon, Ayers, and Hurst finished setting up the torches for the reinforcements' arrival. Hurst scrawled across the patio door with a permanent marker.

  “What do you think?” he asked, taking a step back.

  Dixon looked at the message: Up the road through the woods. And hurry cuz we got shit to do.

  “Straight to the point,” he said with a chuckle, “I like it.”

  Ayers furrowed his brow. “What if they send a higher up?” he asked. “They might not like that?”

  “Get real,” Dixon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why in the world would they send anyone of importance on this suicide mission”

  “Hey now, I’m...” Ayers replied, holding up a hand, and then paused. “Well. Yeah, you’re right.”

  The soldiers shared a dark laugh at their expendability and then froze at the sound of gunfire in the distance.

  “You hear that?” Dixon asked.

  Hurst nodded. “Sounds like somebody is panicking a bit.”

  “They really need to tone it down, unless they want to draw a crowd,” Ayers said.

  The shots intensified, multiple guns going off in three-round bursts. The trio shared a concerned look and then took off running.

  “We gotta get to the line,” Dixon said as they hopped off of the deck and sprinted as hard as they could back to the tree line. As they ran, they saw a few of the other men that had been fortifying the gaps between houses.