The Corporal nodded and then pulled down on the truck horn a few times, letting out a deafening bleat. He picked up the CB radio and raised it to his lips.
“All right, everybody on com?” he asked, and waited as one by one, the other five soldiers checked in. “Okay, here’s what we’re doing,” he began. “Heading out to the north, the highway is about half a mile up. Hit the outbound lane and haul ass. I want a hundred yards between every truck when we’re out there. We have enough on our plates without risking an accident. Everybody clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, sir!” came through the speaker, and he nodded.
“Let’s move, then,” he said, and replaced the receiver to its holder. He rolled out, the rest of the squad falling in place behind him.
The drive to the highway was short, with the road mostly clear. Bretz looked out to the side at another shopping area, watching Murphy’s men get set up on the rooftops, squeezing off shots to pull the crowd towards them.
Bretz led the convoy up to the highway, making the turn onto the ramp, gaining speed as it went up. The road on the outer loop itself was mostly clear, with the occasional car left abandoned on the side of the road. The traffic on the opposite side was a bit more dense, with several people apparently trying to leave town as the mess had started and failing.
“That’s a hell of a rush hour over there,” Kent crackled through the radio.
“We don’t have those sorta issues where I come from,” Short piped up.
Kent laughed. “What is rush hour like in your hick town there, bud?”
“Only time we ever had traffic was when there was a cow break,” Short replied.
“What in the hell is a cow break?” Baker cut in.
“There’s hundreds of miles worth of fencing around the farms, and it wasn’t always the sturdiest stuff,” Short explained. “Those cows were tricky, always finding a way out. So it was a daily occurrence to see them wandering around the streets.”
Kent barked a laugh. “Man, that is some countrified bullshit right there,” he drawled. “I’m up in Chicago dealing with gangs, neighborhood pit bulls, rush hour traffic, lake effect snow and a thousand other things. Meanwhile, you’re getting outsmarted by cows. How in the hell did we end up in the same unit?”
“I dunno,” Short admitted. “Military brass probably saw you came from a town that thinks pizza is supposed to resemble a pie and thought you had a mental defect. Had to put you in with someone with a functioning brain.”
Kent snorted. “Don’t think I won’t run your ass off the road for badmouthing deep dish pizza,” he quipped.
There was a collection of laughter over the CB, and Bretz cut back in. “We’re going to have to table this debate,” he said, “because we’re approaching Overlake.”
The group calmed down, the seriousness of their mission taking hold once again.
The highway made a large turn around a bend, leading to Overlake, the next large suburb they’d have to pass through. As Bretz took the gentle curve, the road was packed full of zombies and cars up ahead, looking like a major pileup completely blocking the path. He slammed on the brakes, prompting everyone behind him to do the same.
The screeching tires were loud, squealing as the convoy suddenly came to a halt. A loud crash echoed from the back, and the Corporal’s eyes widened.
“What in the hell was that?!” he demanded through the radio.
“Hess done fucked it up,” Kent drawled.
“Wasn’t my fault you slammed on the brakes in the middle of a goddamn curve!” Hess exclaimed frantically. “Couldn’t see you in time!”
Bretz rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What’s the damage?” he asked.
There was the loud wheeze of an engine trying to start, and then nothing.
“It’s dead,” Hess replied.
“Ten minutes into the drive and we’re already fucked,” Baker drawled. “Fantastic.”
“Again, not my fault,” Hess said through his teeth.
“Calm yourself,” Baker shot back. “I wasn’t assigning blame, just stating a fact.”
Mason cut through, “Bretz, down the road.”
The Corporal looked up the highway and saw the horde of zombies a few hundred yards away had started moving in their direction, shambling towards all the noise.
“Hess, grab your gear and get in the next truck,” Bretz commanded. “We can’t stay here.”
“On the move,” the Private replied.
Bretz stared down the highway, chewing over what their next move should be. There was an off ramp nearby, with another shopping center shortly past that. He stared at it, contemplating, and then finally raised the CB to his lips again.
“Okay, here’s what we’re doing,” he said. “We’re taking the off ramp and we’re making an unscheduled pit stop at that shopping center.”
“Bretz, you know I’ll follow you anywhere,” Baker said slowly, “but do you think that’s wise? We still have five trucks.”
The Corporal furrowed his brow. “And we need six,” he replied firmly. “If we don’t pull this off, our troops to the north are going to have way more to deal with than they can potentially handle.”
“Yeah…” Baker trailed off, sounding nervous but knowing Bretz was right. “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”
“Got Hess aboard and ready to go,” Mason cut in. “How are we doing this?”
Bretz took a deep breath. “We’re just going straight for the back door,” he replied. “Mason, can you and Hess handle it? Or do you need backup?”
“Should be a quick hit and run,” Mason replied easily, “won’t be any big deal.”
The Corporal nodded. “Okay, the rest of you, follow me,” he instructed. “We’re going to spread out over the parking lot and hopefully keep the crowds around us down. Let’s go.”
He popped the truck back into gear and headed out, with the rest of the trucks behind him. They took the off ramp, rolling into a small neighborhood. The side streets were dirty and deserted, with some stragglers and cars dotting the road.
Bretz pulled the truck into the shopping center lot, a smaller center with a single anchor and some side stores. There were about a hundred zombies in the lot, all of which started moving towards him.
“Okay, pick your corner and go,” he instructed through the radio. “And Mason, don’t take too much time. That horde on the interstate is pretty thick. If they get down here, we’re in trouble.”
“In and out, Corporal,” Mason replied firmly. “No problem.”
Bretz watched the trucks move to the opposite ends of the lot, drawing the creatures in all directions.
“Come on Mason,” Bretz muttered to himself, “let’s make this quick.”
The Private pulled his truck down the back alley, rolling over a couple of zombies as he went. There was a satisfying pop as the tire crushed a rotted head.
“Ah, that sound never gets old,” he declared, shooting Hess a grin.
His passenger shrugged. “I suppose we have to enjoy the little things in life.”
“These days it’s about as good as it gets,” Mason replied.
He stopped at the back loading dock of the store, where there were two trucks backed up. There were four zombies wandering around near the back door.
“Just leave the truck running,” Hess suggested, “we’re not going to be long.”
Mason checked the gas gauge, seeing there was still three-quarters of a tank. He nodded in agreement and hopped out.
The soldiers hit the ground, assault rifles at the ready, and opened fire on the zombies by the door, quickly taking them out with precise headshots. They rushed to the back door, and Mason yanked on it, finding it locked.
“Shit, no good,” he growled.
Hess looked down the loading dock and saw that one of the bay doors was open about two feet, enough to provide the workers with some airflow.
“Come on, we got a way in,” he said, and waved for his partner to follow him.
The two men hopped
to the ground and rushed over to the opening, Hess taking out a flashlight and shining it inside. There were several sets of feet in his line of vision, the closest being five yards away.
Hess went silent, pointing it out to Mason before motioning for him to boost him up. Mason laced his fingers together, giving his companion a heave up onto the dock.
Hess drew his knife and slammed it into the back of the closest ghoul, catching its body as it fell and gently setting it on the concrete to avoid making noise. He looked around, seeing the other zombies were easily fifteen to twenty yards away and hadn’t noticed them yet. He quickly went back over to the loading dock and laid down to pull Mason up after him.
The duo readied their knives, wanting to remain stealthy, and headed towards the back office. There were a trio of creatures by the office door that would need to be dealt with, so Hess slid forward and stabbed one in the back of the head, catching the body as he jammed the blade into the temple of the second one.
In the darkness, he missed, glancing off of the creature’s forehead and enraging it. It let out a furious moan and reached for him, and Hess dropped his charge, stabbing the hungry zombie in the eye socket.
Mason finished off the third ghoul, but unfortunately the noise was enough to alert the rest of the zombies in the room. They turned in unison, moaning and shambling for the soldiers.
“Find the keys!” Hess barked.
Mason rushed into the office, pulling out his flashlight. Hess raised his rifle and flashlight, finding targets and shooting them one by one between the eyes. After he squeezed off half a dozen rounds, dropping that many ghouls, the swinging doors to the store flew open under a fresh swarm.
He froze in terror at the sight of dozens of monsters pouring into the back room. “Hurry up!” he yelled. “We’re about to get overrun!”
Mason frantically looked for the keys, throwing stuff in every direction, hoping to uncover them. Meanwhile, Hess opened fire, carefully placing shots, spreading out the carnage in hopes that the ones behind the fallen corpses would trip.
His fire intensified as more creatures came in and grew closer and closer, within fifteen feet away.
“MASON!” he screamed.
His companion opened the last drawer on the desk, relieved to find two sets of keys, and grabbed them both. “Got em!” he cried, bursting out of the office. “Let’s go!” He shoved the keys in his pocket and raised his rifle, joining his companion in shooting to buy them time to get to the door.
Mason hit the release bar on the door behind him, but it didn’t open. He shoved it a few more times, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“We’re stuck!” he cried.
Hess shot several more zombies before dropping his empty mag and reloading. He threw himself into the release bar, but the door wouldn’t move. He looked down and saw a slot for a key.
“They must have dead bolted it!” he said.
Both soldiers fired off a few more shots as the zombies reached ten yards of them, the numbers still in the couple of dozen.
“Out the loading dock door!” Mason cried, and they inched forward, continuously shooting as they made their way to the loading dock.
As they grew closer, they saw that several zombies had been attracted to the noise and were now pressed against the opening.
“Fuck, what do we do now?” he demanded.
Hess clenched his jaw and shook his head. “We have to go through them.”
“What?!” Mason cried.
“Get to the front of the store, and we’ll circle around the back,” Hess explained. They squeezed off a few more shots, dropping two more zombies. “Focus your fire on the center of the horde, drop as many as you can, and haul ass.”
Mason swallowed hard, steeling his gaze, and the two men raised their weapons, flashlights illuminating the front line of the two dozen deep horde quickly closing in on them in the corner.
“Now!” Hess yelled, and they opened up in three-round bursts, sending as much lead downrange as they could.
The bullets ripped through the front edge of the mass, dropping several of them and cutting others to shreds, knocking them down.
Hess led them forward, both shooting rapidly as they went, clearing a path through the center of the group. When they got halfway to the door, his gun clicked empty. He clutched it tightly, extending it forward and using it as a battering ram.
He caught one ghoul in the chest, driving it backwards into the others while Mason fired several more shots into the group.
“We’re almost to the door!” Hess yelled, as the zombie he was pushing grabbed his arm, frantically snapping with its teeth to get a bite. He flung it side to side in an attempt to avoid the teeth.
Mason rushed up, lowering his shoulder and bashing into the last group of two zombies by the door. The impact sent them staggering backwards through the door and into the store. His momentum carried him forward through the door, and he stumbled before catching himself and whirling around.
Hess finally managed to throw his attacker to the ground and smash its face in, turning just in time to see a zombie leap on Mason’s back, sending him face first into the linoleum. Hess drew his handgun and fired at the two zombies converging on his partner’s position, tearing towards his fallen friend.
He grabbed it by the back of the shirt, but the ghoul managed to bite into Mason’s shoulder, taking a chunk of him with it as Hess ripped it from his friend’s back. He put the barrel to its head, watching it savor every bite of his companion’s flesh before he blew its brain apart.
Hess looked down at Mason to help him up, but the blood poured out of him, the bite close enough to his neck that he struggled for breath, gurgling blood.
Hess scrubbed his hands down his face, brain still trying to process what had just happened. Moans erupted from the loading dock and he shook his head, snapping back to business at the looming threat of death.
“I’m sorry, man,” he said, and swallowed hard before placing the barrel of his handgun on the back of Mason’s head and pulling the trigger, setting him to rest. It was an undignified death, and Hess couldn’t fight off the guilt washing over him, but he had no choice. He couldn’t allow Mason to suffer at the hands of the zombies still here, and he couldn’t risk a runner tearing free.
He dug into his fallen friend’s pocket and grabbed the keys, slipping them into his own, and readied his assault rifle, slamming in a fresh mag and holding up his flashlight to illuminate any target he could find.
He moved swiftly through the store, coming around the corner into the center aisle and seeing several ghouls milling about. His first instinct was to light them up, to make them pay for the death of his partner, but he thought better of it. The less noise and wastage of bullets, the better.
One of the creatures turned towards him, attracted by the light, and began shambling in his direction. Hess let out a huff and kept moving. He moved through the front half of the store, gun at the ready, but pocketed the flashlight as he got closer to the front glass with the sunlight pouring in.
There were a dozen or so zombies near the registers, and another few dozen just outside the front door, attracted to the rumbling of the truck just to the left of the entrance. Hess tried to plot a course through, but none of them looked viable as there were just too many zombies by the front entrance.
I have to signal whoever is driving to get out of the way, he thought, and looked around. There was a register just across from him with two ghouls standing next to it. If I can get over there, I might be able to get his attention.
He drew his knife, knowing he’d have to be quiet about it. He waited for the zombies to look in the other direction and then darted out. He rushed over and slammed his blade into the back of one monster’s skull before immediately stabbing the second one through the forehead.
He quickly dropped to his knee, hiding behind the register for cover. He glanced out the window, seeing Kent sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck, just hanging out.
&n
bsp; Hess pulled out his flashlight and aimed it directly at Kent’s face, clicking it on and off two times rapidly. His charge outside blinked, confused, looking around. Hess sighed and did it again, finally gaining the soldier’s attention.
Kent looked straight through the window and saw Hess crouched there. When their eyes locked, Hess motioned for him to move the truck out of the way. He received a thumbs up, and Kent popped the truck into gear and moved back, the congregating zombies slowly ambling after him.
Unfortunately for Hess, the flicking light attracted several of the zombies at the front area of the store, and they wandered towards him, trying to find the source. He remained under cover, his knife ready in case one of them got too close. He watched as a couple of them wandered by the top of his checkout aisle, moaning, seeming to know that something was close.
He looked back towards the front, seeing only a few zombies inside the store and ten or so just outside of it, although a bit more spread out than before. As he went back into hiding, he inadvertently elbowed a travel mug that was underneath the register, sending it clattering to the ground.
“Dammit,” he muttered as moaning erupted all around him. He sheathed his knife and readied his assault rifle. “Here goes nothing.” He popped up from cover, aiming at the nearest creature and firing, dropping it fast as he turned and tore for the front of the store.
Zombies in front of him turned to screech at him, arms outstretched. He stopped and fired two quick headshots, and then leapt over the fallen, skidding into the front entryway and slamming the double doors behind him.
Ten zombies pressed up against the row of glass doors at the front, shoulder to shoulder and smacking on the glass. Hess raised his rifle, aiming at the first ghoul’s head and swapping to rapid fire mode. He took a deep breath, and then pulled the trigger, running down the line, taking out a line of them in a matter of seconds.
As the corpses hit the pavement, he pushed his way out of the store and into the parking lot. As soon as he was out, somebody blared their horn, and he turned to see Kent’s truck about forty yard away, the bulk of the zombies on the passenger side.
Hess broke into a sprint, running as hard as he could for the truck. As he approached, Kent flung open the door and started firing from the driver’s seat, dropping the few zombies that were directly in his running companion’s path.
Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 31