“Is there enough room to sneak through behind them now?” the Private asked.
Johnson snorted. “You? If you’re up for it. Me? Not a chance in fucking hell.” He put up his hands. “I don’t want to be zombie chow.”
“We could just shoot ‘em.” Baker shrugged.
“No, we’ve gotta do this quiet,” Bretz said. “I don’t want to get into a firefight with these assholes until it’s on our terms.”
Johnson sighed. “So, you want to knife ‘em?”
“I don’t really see any other way,” the Corporal confirmed with a shrug. “Do you?”
Baker pulled out his knife and stepped forward, trying to line up a shot to deliver a blow to a nearby corpse head. As he inched forward, one of the zombies knocked over another and snapped at him.
He leapt back, stumbling and ending up on his ass on the pavement. “Fuck!”
“You all right?” Johnson asked.
“Yeah,” Baker assured him as he got back to his feet, “but that is not a viable plan. Way too fucking risky.”
Johnson motioned over his shoulder. “Maybe we can find something useful in the diner?” he suggested. “Metal post or something?”
“Mason and I were in there earlier,” Bretz put in, shaking his head. “It was gutted.”
Baker sighed. “Do we really need to get in there?”
“They’re protecting it for a reason,” Johnson insisted.
Linda rolled her eyes at the back and forth, and gave George a shove forward. It dawned on him what she was doing, and he dug in his heels, pushing back against her.
“No, fuck no,” he begged.
She grunted with the effort of pushing against his large frame. “Hard way it is, then,” she warned, and reached down to grab his balls in her tiny fist. He shrieked and she used the distraction to shove him closer to the horde.
“Don’t! You fucking bitch, don’t!” George screamed, and the zombies perked right up, ready for their meal.
Linda gave him one last hard shove and he staggered into the group of corpses. He tried to roll away but they immediately tore into his legs, dragging him down to the asphalt.
The soldiers stared in shock, watching the screaming man struggle under gnawing teeth.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Linda snapped.
Bretz and Baker shook their heads and leapt into action, quickly stabbing the backs of as many heads as possible as they fed on their fresh meat. The whole ordeal took less than a minute, all of the zombies dispatched while George moaned and bled out on the asphalt.
Linda stepped forward, staring down at him with icy eyes.
“These guys really hurt you, didn’t they?” Bretz asked quietly.
She jutted out her chin. “You have no idea.” She pulled out her new knife and plunged it down into George’s forehead, preventing reanimation and helping to get her revenge all in one fell swoop. She turned away to clean the blade and sheath it, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heartbeat.
“Johnson, you’re up,” the Corporal said, stepping aside.
Johnson nodded and clambered over the pile of bodies, making quick work of picking the lock. The door opened a hair and he stepped back, readying his gun as Bretz began a silent countdown to breach the door.
The Corporal reached zero and burst inside, flanked by the other two soldiers, Linda bringing up the rear. There was no noise inside, but it was very dark.
“Baker, hit the blinds,” Bretz said, “let’s see what we have.”
The Private felt along the wall and opened the blinds, letting light bathe the hotel lobby. The quartet blinked at the piles and piles of blankets and clothing filling the place, with only a few narrow pathways heading through.
“Christ,” Johnson breathed. “It’s hoarders, Wyoming edition.”
Bretz shook his head, reaching over to flip a button-down shirt over in his hand. “This explains why everywhere we went, we couldn’t find anything of value.”
“What’s it all doing here, though?” Baker asked with a shrug. “I thought they were up at the high school?”
Linda took a deep breath. “Shawn is a bit of a control freak, so this isn’t a surprise,” she explained. “This is probably his rainy day supply cache. So when things get low, he can just off everybody and live comfortably for a while.”
What a charmer,” Johnson muttered. “Bet he’s fun at parties.”
“Well, if I get my way he’s going to be the guest of honor at the party I throw,” Linda said, selecting a red fitted t-shirt from one of the piles to replace her tattered tank top.
“Pretty sure if we dig, we’ll find some party favors in here,” Johnson suggested.
Bretz nodded. “Look around for anything useful. Guns, ammo. A hunting rifle would go a long way towards taking out those snipers on the roof.”
They spread out, digging through the piles of fabric.
Baker lifted a cast iron pan from beneath a pair of khakis, shaking his head. “Man, you’d think in a rural town like this, there would be plenty of hunters.”
“Lots of elderly people here,” Linda explained as she emerged from behind a wall of junk wearing her new shirt. “So probably not as many hunters as you’d think. The group here in town would go up to their cabins by the reservoir up north most weekends, so they probably kept the bulk of the weapons there.”
Johnson wrinkled his nose. “Either that, or there’s a goddamn arsenal at the high school.”
“That too,” she admitted.
Bretz emerged from one of the back offices. “Anybody got anything?” he asked, and received a round of disappointed shaking heads.
“So, now what?” Baker asked.
The Corporal pursed his lips, contemplating, and then suddenly his eyes lit up, a sly smile curling his mouth.
“Oh hell,” Johnson barked. “Last time he had a look like that, I ended up getting chased through some Middle Eastern shitberg by a bunch of pissed off locals.”
Bretz ignored him. “Linda, how bright is Shawn?”
“Um, the highlight of his life is catching a ball,” she scoffed. “You do the math.”
The Corporal turned to Baker. “When you were getting supplies back at basecamp, did you pack any C4?”
Johnson threw up his hands. “And there it is.”
“Wait, wait,” Linda cut in. “Like explosive C4? You do realize I have to live in this town after we take Shawn out, don’t you?”
Bretz raised a finger in the universal sign of holding on. “Just, bear with me, please,” he said, and turned back to Baker.
The Private nodded. “Yeah, got C4, grenades, pretty sure I picked up a grenade launcher or two.”
“Christ, did you pick up Stingers, too?” Johnson blurted.
Baker shook his head. “No, but I did look.”
“Perfect,” Bretz said, clapping his companion on the shoulder. “I want you to go back to the train and grab some C4.”
“Hell, pick up the grenades, too,” Johnson added. “Could come in handy if we get pinned down.”
Bretz nodded. “Yes, good idea. Johnson, I want you across the street on the roof to keep watch. If a patrol comes this way, take them out however you can. Once they see the pile of zombies outside, they’re going to know we’re here.”
The soldiers saluted and headed off to follow their orders, fist bumping as they parted ways in the doorway.
Linda tapped her foot, crossing her arms. “So, you want to tell me why you’re going to blow up my town?”
“Don’t worry, the only thing I intend on blowing up is the abandoned diner in the parking lot,” Bretz assured her.
Her brow furrowed. “What good is that going to do?”
“Well, we don’t have the numbers or the weaponry to do a full scale assault on the school,” the Corporal explained. “Our sniper is a prisoner there, which means we can’t take down their shooters on the roof. We’d be cut down before we could even get to the front door. So we’re going to have to b
ait Shawn if we want to take him out.
“If he thinks we’re going to blow up his stockpile, he’ll negotiate with us for our buddies. That gets us close enough to the door to give us a fighting chance. If we can get inside, we’ll cause a hell of a ruckus.”
Linda drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” she finally said. “I trust you.”
Bretz pulled out his handgun and gave it a quick check. “You know how to use one of these?” he asked.
“Only fired one a couple of times,” she admitted. “I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Well, they don’t know that,” he replied, and held the gun out to her. “If they see you pointing it in their direction, I guarantee they’ll take cover. Could be useful.”
She took it gently, and then offered him a smile. “Thank you. For helping me.”
“It’s why I became a soldier,” Bretz replied. “To help people.” He paused, feeling like he might have put a reassuring hand on her shoulder if not for her recent apocalypse experiences. Instead, he returned her smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your town back.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kowalski tossed another pencil up into the ceiling, wrinkling his nose as it bounced off and clattered to the floor. “Oh, this takes me back.”
“Spent a lot of time in detention, did you?” Kersey asked, spinning the teacher’s desk chair around a few times before turning towards his companion. They’d found a nail file in one of the desks and had taken care of their plastic bonds. The file had broken, but at least they had their hands to occupy themselves.
“Yeah, my sophomore year I was a little hell raiser,” Kowalski admitted. “Pretty sure I spent more time in here than in actual classes.” He threw another pencil and it stuck fast, and he fist-pumped the air with a grunt of victory.
Kersey raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.
“What?” the Private asked. “It’s the little things, Sarge.”
Kersey chuckled, but the moment was short lived at the rattle of the padlock on the outside of the door.
“We have to buy as much time as we possibly can for Bretz to figure out how to get us out,” the Sergeant hissed quietly.
Kowalski nodded. “I can handle that.”
“Just don’t piss them off too much,” Kersey warned. “They need us alive but I don’t think they’d have any issues smacking us around.”
Kowalski just winked at his superior, and they both turned to the door as it opened. One of Shawn’s lackeys rolled in a metal cart with some giant ancient communication equipment that looked like some relic out of a museum.
Shawn strolled in, standing next to it, and waved a hand as if to present them with their prize. The soldiers looked at each other and then back at the cart and then burst out laughing.
“What in the hell do you want us to do with this thing?” Kowalski gasped, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “Call in an air strike over Berlin?”
“It’s old ham radio tech that one of our townsfolk upgraded to high frequency,” Shawn explained, crossing his arms. “So if you wanted to, you could call Berlin, not just order an airstrike on them.”
“Okay, fine, bring it over and let me see what I can do,” Kersey said, and rolled around the teacher’s desk to have a look at the machine.
The lackey rolled the cart over and plugged the radio into the large battery on the bottom. It whirred to life, giving off a low hum.
“Not often you can hear the radiation coursing through the air,” Kowalski quipped, tossing another pencil at the ceiling and missing spectacularly.
Kersey leaned over and began tuning the dials. “So what do you think, Private? Who should we get in touch with?”
“You need to get in touch with the decision maker,” Shawn declared.
The Sergeant rolled his eyes. “That’s great and all, but in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a bit of a nationwide issue going on. Dead rising, and all?” He waved his hand over his head. “So, if you want your ransom for us, we’re going to have to contact who we think we can get a hold of. They can run it up the chain of command from there.”
The blonde huffed, but his shoulders relaxed.
“I don’t know.” Kowalski leaned back in the desk chair he perched in. “What do you think? General Bretz?”
Kersey raised an eyebrow. “General Bretz? I wasn’t aware he had gotten a promotion.”
“Yeah, field promotion,” the Private replied, nodding his head in seriousness. “Very deserving if I say so myself.”
“Okay,” the Sergeant agreed, stifling a smile. “General Bretz it is.” He dialed the radio to their emergency frequency, and reduced the radius to just a few miles. He lifted the mouthpiece to his lips. “Calling General Bretz,” he said. “This is Sergeant Kersey, over.” He paused and waited, but there was just silence. “General Bretz, this is Sergeant Kersey, do you copy?”
“Where the fuck is he?” Shawn demanded, eyes narrowed with annoyance.
Kersey waved him off. “Give him a minute, he’s a busy man.”
“He’d better fucking hurry,” Shawn muttered, cracking his knuckles.
“Sergeant Kersey, this is General Bretz,” the reply crackled over the old radio. “Status report.”
“Sir, we are currently at the high school in Moorcroft, Wyoming,” Kersey explained calmly.
In his best Stephens impression, Bretz replied, “What in the hell are you doing there?”
“Well General, we stopped for supplies and ended up getting a little more than we bargained for,” Kersey said.
“Explain yourself, Sergeant!” Bretz exclaimed, and Kowalski coughed to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble up in his throat at how much fun it sounded like the Corporal was having.
“We’ve been apprehended by the town’s leader, a man named Shawn,” Kersey explained. “He wishes to trade our freedom for supplies. Food, water, the basics.”
Bretz clucked his tongue. “So, just so I understand the situation, you failed your mission by getting captured by a bunch of civilians who have decided to wage war against the United States of America?”
“What?!” Shawn blurted, eyes going wide. “No, we’re not waging war, we just want food!”
Kersey held up his hand to signal him to quiet down. “General, I don’t know if they’ve declared war on the nation…” he began.
“Bullshit!” Bretz barked. “They kidnapped U.S. soldiers for their own selfish gains! And as you know Sergeant, we don’t negotiate with hostile forces, be they foreign or domestic. Since you have sensitive information that could be used against us, I’m afraid we’re going to have to Ripley this situation.”
Shawn gripped his hair in both hands. “Ripley the situation?!” he cried. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means they’re going to nuke the site from orbit,” Kersey said.
The blonde’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “What?! They’re going to nuke us?!”
“It’s just a figure of speech,” Kowalski cut in, struggling not to look extremely amused at the situation unfolding before him. “It’s more than likely just a barrage of tomahawk missiles.”
“Well, General,” Kersey continued into the radio, “what can I say? We had a good run. Had to come to an end at some point.”
Shawn dove forward and snatched the mouthpiece from the Sergeant’s hand. “Oh, General, don’t blow us up!” he begged. “Please, we’re sorry, we aren’t waging war on the USA.”
After a few tense moments of silence, Bretz suddenly burst into laughter. “Oh, stop shitting yourself man, we’re just fucking with you.”
Shawn’s eyes widened in realization and as Kowalski dissolved into laughter, his eyes narrowed with menace. “Do you think this is a fucking game?” he growled into the radio. “I will straight up murder your men.”
“No you won’t,” Bretz replied confidently.
“Oh really?” Shawn sneered. “Strong words from someone who doesn’t have any cards to play.”
“Why don’
t you come take a look out the window?” the Corporal asked.
Shawn shook his head. “Hell no, I’m not stupid.”
“Jury’s still out on that one,” Kowalski quipped.
“Relax, Shawn,” Bretz came through. “Nobody is gonna take a shot at you. We’re not going to risk our men’s lives like that. Especially when we know you’re going to waltz them out the front door for us.”
The blonde chuckled, but it sounded forced. “That would be one hell of a trick there, General.”
“It’s Corporal, actually,” Bretz replied, amusement in his tone, “but the promotion was nice while it lasted.”
“General, Corporal, I don't really give a fuck!” Shawn snarled. “You have ten seconds to give me a reason not to kill these two and send every man I have out to hunt you the fuck down!”
Bretz sobered quickly. “Find a window and look to the west,” he demanded.
Shawn grunted and waved at one of the guards to open the shutters on the west side of the room. “What am I looking for?” he asked.
“We found your hotel stash,” Bretz replied, and then an explosion rocked the building.
A fireball rocketed into the sky, from the direction of the hotel, and as Shawn regained his footing he let out a loud roar. “What the fuck?!” he screamed into the radio. “I’m gonna kill you and everybody you know! Starting with these two right here!”
“Relax, that was the diner,” the Corporal said, as if placating a small child.
“What?” Shawn asked, bewildered as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “The diner?”
“Yeah, the diner in front of the hotel,” Bretz explained. “Just a warning shot to let you know we weren’t bluffing.”
The blonde growled in frustration and sat down on one of the desks. “All right,” he said finally. “What do you want?”
“We’re going to be at the west side parking lot in ten minutes,” Bretz said. “I want your men off the roof, all the shutters closed, and you alone are going to escort the prisoners out to us.”
“No, fuck that,” Shawn replied immediately. “I’m not coming outside alone. You get what you want and then I’m dead.”
Dead America The Second Week (Book 2): Dead America: Heartland Part 2 Page 6