DEAD AMERICA
LOWCOUNTRY
PART 1
BY DEREK SLATON
©2021
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +1
Grace stared out the passenger window, looking out over the water. The sun was just beginning to rise over their backs, casting a warm glow on the lapping waves. As they crossed the Hilton Head bridge towards Bluffton, she turned to gaze at her brother, Dante, driving the car.
Growing up, nobody had ever believed they were related. Their features weren’t terribly similar, and then there was the matter of his ebony hair contrasting her honey blonde. At this point, however, they couldn’t look more different.
Her chest constricted as her gaze lingered on his facial scars, scars he had because of her. She traced every dip of his skin, all up his right arm to his neck and face. Her brother didn’t have an eye anymore… because of her.
Grace looked down at her left hand, her own scarring much more minor and not noticeable unless one was looking for it.
“You’re being quiet this morning,” Dante said, side-glancing her.
“What do you expect?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You drug me out of bed at seven in the morning to go on a store run.”
He chuckled. “I’m sorry I interrupted your beauty rest, princess,” he drawled. “But unless I’m mistaken, I’m pretty sure this Super Center has a coffee shop.” The island was a hotspot for the wealthy elite to vacation, which meant that they had to cross to the mainland for something like a Super Center, lest it blight the landscape of multi-million dollar homes and resorts.
“Hopefully they have the IV bag option,” Grace groaned, “because if I’m going to be awake for this funeral I’m going to need caffeine injected straight into my veins.”
Dante smirked. “Pretty sure that’s a Seattle exclusive.”
“Well, sign me up then,” she moaned in excitement. “Only been here three days, and I’m so ready to get back home. Explain to me again why we’re out here for the funeral when nobody else is?”
He shook his head. “You know that Grandma wasn’t close to much of anybody except for us,” he replied gently. “Especially after… you know.”
Grace looked down at her hand again. Fire. Especially after the fire that disfigured him. She swallowed and nodded.
“Okay, I’ll buy that,” she said, “but what I don’t understand is why we’re driving off-island to go to the Super Center at seven in the morning.”
He shook his head. “The pastor asked if I could pick up a few things at the store for the reception,” he explained. “I woke up early and thought it might be good to beat the crowds to the store.”
“Well, thank you very much for including me in your little adventure,” she said with a sigh. “Glad to know you value my advice on which chips pair well with a wake.”
Dante chuckled and reached down, flicking on the radio. “We have a couple more miles to go, why don’t you find us a song?” he suggested, and turned up the volume a bit.
“There have been unconfirmed reports of rioting in Texas,” a radio announcer said. “Federal officials have thus far refused comment, saying that they are aware of the situation and are mon—”
Grace hit the CD button on the dash, and the car filled with crunchy distorted classic rock. She bobbed her head and cranked the volume louder.
“That’s better,” she declared. “Way too early to be dealing with the woes of the world!”
She unrolled the window and waved her hand in the wind as they drove down the mostly empty road for a few more miles. There were stretches of apartments and some strip malls, with a whole lot of wetlands in between.
As Dante pulled into the parking lot of the Super Center, there were already a dozen cars sitting out front, as it was the only thing open in the area. It sat in the middle of a long strip mall, stretching for a couple hundred yards in both directions.
“Well brother,” Grace said as she turned the volume back down, “your master plan worked perfectly. We successfully beat the rush.”
He rolled his eyes. “You joke,” he said, “but I’ll be willing to bet there isn’t going to be a line for the coffee shop.”
“You’re paying, right?” she asked.
“Depends,” he replied with a smirk. “Are you getting coffee, or one of those upscale fancy drinks with forty-seven words in the title that would require me to take out a second mortgage to pay for?”
Grace shrugged. “Well, we are in a resort town,” she said. “It would feel wrong to not go fancy with my coffee. And you’ll gladly take out that second mortgage because it will mean you won’t have to listen to me complain for the rest of the morning that you woke me up before the sun rose.”
“Yeah, that’s money well spent,” he agreed, chuckling.
They got out of the compact sedan, slamming the doors behind them. Dante fumbled around with the key fob, hitting what he thought was the lock, but instead the alarm started blaring, lights flashing on and off.
Grace laughed and shook her head, leaning over and snatching the key from his hand, turning the screeching alarm off.
“Damn rentals,” her brother muttered.
“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to go budget,” she shot back, pointing the key at him. “For an extra ten bucks a day, we could have had a convertible.”
He scoffed. “When I reserved the car, I didn’t think a convertible in October was the best idea,” he explained. “That was before I realized the humidity here is still a hundred and twenty percent, even in the fall.”
“Imagine that, other parts of the country have different weather than Seattle,” Grace said, gasping dramatically. “It’s crazy, I know!”
Dante opened his mouth to respond, but a loud siren cut him off. An ambulance screamed into the lot and screeched to a stop in front of the Super Center.
“That better not be for the barista,” Grace joked, shaking her head.
Dante shrugged. “If my experience working retail is any indication,” he said, “it’s probably for an employee slitting their wrists in the break room because they can’t take the customers anymore.”
“Did you ever think about seeing a therapist when you were working retail?” she asked, playfully bumping his shoulder.
He barked a laugh. “Guessing you’ve never seen a retail worker’s paycheck.”
“Touche,” she conceded, and waved for him to follow her. “Come on, let’s get that coffee before I’m forced to take a nap in the parking lot.”
They headed for the front doors, reaching the sidewalk as two EMTs nearly ran into the store manager exiting the front. He looked frazzled, eyes large and unblinking, a dark crimson stain splashed across his work vest.
“Oh, thank god you’re here,” he babbled.
“What’s the problem?” one paramedic asked.
The manager threw his hands up. “Some homeless guy went crazy!” he exclaimed. “He just came in and started attacking a couple of customers!”
“Is anybody hurt?” the EMT asked.
The older man nodded, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah, he bit one of the customers on the shoulder,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” the paramedic intoned, blinking in shock. “Did you say bit? Are you sure?”
The manager raised his palms. “I know, it sounds crazy,” he admitted, “but I looked myself. It’s definitely a bite mark. Pretty bad one, too.”
“Okay,” the EMT replied, shaking his head. “Where is the customer now?”
“In my office,” the portly man replied.
“And the homeless man?” the paramedic added. “Is he still on
site?”
The manager nodded. “Yeah, he just…” He shook his head vigorously. “He just wouldn’t calm down. A few customers and I managed to shove him into the handicap bathroom and lock the door. He’s still freaking out, banging on the door. He’s not saying anything, just screaming or moaning… not sure which.”
“Okay, it sounds like he got a hold of some bad drugs,” the EMT explained. “These pushers are cutting stuff with some questionable shit. We’ll take care of it.”
The manager nodded tiredly and stepped aside. He glanced over at the brother and sister standing nearby, and forced a smile. “Don’t worry,” he blurted, “we’re still open. The situation is under control.”
“Sounds like it,” Dante said wryly.
Grace’s eyes softened as she saw the despair on the manager’s face and smiled brightly. “Mister manager,” she said in an overly bubbly tone, “is the coffee shop open?”
He perked up at the pretty girl, asking for his help, straightening his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smiling and nodding. “Best coffee you’re going to find on island or off.” He reached into his vest, carefully avoiding the blood, and pulled out a coupon, holding it out to her. “Here you go, this will get you a free pastry with your coffee.”
“Well thank you,” she replied with a wink, and accepted the coupon.
Dante pouted. “Don’t I get a free pastry?”
The manager blanched, patting down his pockets.
“Oh, he’s just joking with you,” Grace piped up, offering another bright smile, and grabbed her brother’s large firm bicep. “And besides, they’re just empty calories,” she said to her brother. “Can’t risk your physique over that. Come on.”
She pulled on his arm, and he let her drag him into the store. On the way in, he offered the manager a smile and a nod in thanks for the kindness. The manager returned it and then scrubbed his hands down his face in his panic.
As the duo entered the store, they looked over towards the bathrooms where the banging was coming from. A few employees stood by it, arms crossed, looking concerned but staunchly holding their perimeter to make sure no customers went close.
Dante lingered, listening to the snarling and screaming coming from inside.
“This is my absolute favorite time of year!” Grace gushed as she picked up a sparkly pumpkin decoration. “Can’t wait to get back home and decorate the house up right.”
Her brother smiled, thinking back to all the years they’d done a big Halloween production, setting up mini haunted houses for the neighborhood kids to come through. It was a big favourite of hers, and he loved to see her so happy.
As she dug through the decorations, he felt eyes on him, and turned to look at the next aisle. Hiding partially behind the end cap display was a young girl, maybe ten years old, peeking out at him, eyes wide with fear.
Dante offered a friendly smile to her, and turned in her direction, kneeling down to get to her level. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly. “I’m not a monster.” He reached up and ran his hand up and down his scars. “See, they don’t hurt, and they’re not going to hurt you. It’s just the way I look now.”
She swallowed hard, a little more relaxed but still looking afraid.
He stuck his tongue out, making a silly face, and the little girl burst out laughing. An older woman turned around from the vases behind her daughter, and scowled, stepping up and grabbing the girl by the shoulders.
“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Dante stood up, holding up a hand, and the woman recoiled a bit when she looked at his face.
“Your daughter saw me and was scared,” he explained gently. “I just showed her that I wasn’t a monster, that’s all.”
She glared at him, grinding her teeth, and then tugged on her daughter’s hand. “Come on, it’s time to go,” she said sharply, turning on her heel.
Dante sighed. He was used to people being difficult about his injuries, but it didn’t get any easier. The woman had looked like she wanted to rip into him, but likely realized with so many witnesses she didn’t want to become internet famous for a meltdown in the Super Center.
“Why do you do that?” Grace asked, stepping away from the decorations.
Dante shook his head. “People shouldn’t be afraid of me because of how I look,” he explained. “I’m just like anybody else.”
“I understand that,” she replied, “but one of these days someone is going to beat your ass.” She crossed her arms.
He winked at her with his good eye. “There’s a reason I took up MMA training,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Grab a cart and come on,” she said. “Let’s get what we need and go find my coffee.”
He grabbed a cart from the corral and they headed for the back of the store where the grocery aisles were. They headed down each one, peeking around, but couldn’t find the soft drinks.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Dante said politely to a young woman in a vest working an end cap display.
“Yes, si…” she trailed off, jaw dropping when she looked up at his face. “Oh my god, I am so sorry sir,” she gushed, waving her hands in front of her face. “I didn’t mean to react that way. It’s just, you caught me off guard, and that’s really not an excuse, it’s just—”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, holding up a hand. “My ex had the same reaction when I asked her to marry me.”
The woman’s mouth stayed open, but no sound came out, her face horrified at how to deal with the situation.
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Grace said, stepping forward. “He’s just joking.” She paused and glanced at her brother, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, you are joking, right?”
He smirked and nodded.
“See?” she said, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “He’s joking.”
“I’m sorry…” he trailed off, checking her nametag. “Bailey. Just having a little fun.”
She looked relieved, and let out a deep whoosh of breath, offering a smile. “I’m so glad,” she said, and cleared her throat. “But I mean, what happened?” She clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes widening again, horrified she’d just blurted that out. “Oh my god,” she said through her hands, and then moved them to her reddening cheeks. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Please, just ignore me!”
“It’s really okay,” Grace said gently. “My brother Dante here pulled me out of a fire years ago. He’s quite the hero.”
Bailey nodded, looking grateful that they overlooked her social missteps. “Very brave of you,” she said. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”
“Any woman would be lucky to have him,” Grace said, waggling her eyebrows. “Brave, responsible, extremely fit. He’s a catch, my brother.”
Before either could respond, somebody barked from behind them, “Hey, if you’re done chit-chatting, can I get some help over here?”
Bailey glanced around Dante to see a man in a button-down shirt and shoes that looked more expensive than her car. “Excuse me just a moment,” she said, holding up a finger to the duo, and heading over to the impatient customer.
“What in the world are you doing?” Dante hissed to his sister.
Grace shrugged with a smirk. “Just trying to be your wingman.”
“Wingman?” he asked, eyebrows reaching his hairline. “I’m old enough to be her father.”
She cocked her head. “So?” she shot back. “Maybe she’s into older guys. And let’s be honest, it’s been a while for you.”
“How in the hell do you know that?” he demanded.
She crossed her arms. “Am I wrong?”
“Well… no,” he admitted through his teeth, and then shook his head. “But still! How the hell do you know that?”
She smirked, but before she could answer, the asshole customer’s voice rose.
“You need to learn how to do your job, girl,” he declared. “How do you
not know if you carry it?”
Bailey wrung her hands in front of her. “Sir, I’m sorry, this isn’t my usual store,” she stammered. “If you can just give me a minute—”
“Oh, so you’re going to waste more of my time?” he snapped. “Fucking worthless kids not caring about their jobs.”
Dante clenched his jaw and turned towards the man.
“Just don’t hit him,” Grace hissed, reaching out to tap her brother on the shoulder.
“No promises,” he muttered, and walked over, stepping in front of the young woman. “You really need to learn how to talk to people properly,” he said.
The man sneered. “Nice rug burn there Chachi,” he mocked, “you must be a hit with the ladies.”
“Not the only thing I hit,” Dante said, staring him down.
The man glared back at him, fear and tough-guy syndrome warring in his eyes. Before anything could escalate further, a loud scream pierced the air from the front of the store, followed quickly by a second.
“What the hell was that?” Dante asked as all four of them turned towards the source.
The mean customer crossed his arms. “Probably broadcasting your ugly mug on the TVs.”
Before Dante could respond, a few gunshots went off rapidly, causing the quartet to flinch. Bailey immediately pulled out her radio, bringing it to her lips.
“Front line, what’s going on up there?” she demanded.
There was no response on the radio. Before she could try again, a male employee came tearing down the aisle towards them. Three people ran behind him, gaining on him as he hobbled, one of his legs bleeding crimson all over the tiles.
“Help me!” he screamed, reaching for the stunned group. “Help me!”
They watched in horror as two of the people chasing him tackled him from behind. The kid screamed as they bit into his flesh, one into his thigh, the other for the neck.
Bailey screamed, tears flooding her cheeks, and the asshole customer threw up his palms as one of the EMTs bypassed the tussle on the floor and tore towards him.
“What the fuck?!” he cried, taking a panicked step back, frozen in fear.
Dante lunged forward, grabbing the EMT around the waist and flinging it backwards. The snarling and bloody man hit the ground hard, but immediately scrambled to its feet, rushing him again.
Dead America | Book 1 | Lowcountry [Part 1] Page 1