Dead America | Book 1 | Lowcountry [Part 1]

by Slaton, Derek

  Dante fell into a fighting stance, looking around frantically for something, anything he could use to his advantage. He spotted the next end cap, which was bare, leaving a few metal shelves about chest high. He rushed towards them and grabbed the EMT on the way by, clutching his throat and pushing it away from him.

  “You need to calm down!” Dante bellowed, staring into the EMT’s glassy eyes as he tried to snap and chomp at him. The dead hunger there made his blood run cold, and he realized there was a massive wound in the man’s throat.

  This is not a living, breathing human… he thought, his mind reeling. How was this possible? They’d just seen this EMT speaking and walking around normally not ten minutes before.

  The dead EMT continued to thrash about, trying to bite at him. Grace screamed something unintelligible behind him, and Dante knew he couldn’t let it go and get bitten himself. He grabbed the back of the thing’s head and slammed it back towards the metal shelf. He timed it so that when the thing chomped down, he pushed it forward so that its jaws clamped around the metal instead.

  “Dante!” Grace screamed as he reared back to deliver a strike, but he ignored her, hitting hard, driving the head partially through the shelf.

  Teeth shattered and spewed everywhere, the corpse’s mouth hooking on the bottom of the shelf, rendering it stuck. It thrashed violently, limbs everywhere, and Dante backed away from it slowly, standing next to his sister.

  “Oh my god, are you okay?!” she cried, gripping his bicep tightly.

  He nodded, swallowing hard, not taking his eyes off of the flailing corpse. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said absently.

  “What the hell is wrong with that guy?” she demanded, voice shrill.

  Dante shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied, “but I’m not sure he’s still a guy.”

  Bailey screamed, motioning wildly towards the aisle where three more dead-eyed men tore towards them. One was the employee that had fallen and been attacked, and it was clear that something was sinister and unreal about this situation.

  “Is there someplace we can hide?” Grace gushed, but Bailey didn’t answer, staring wide eyed at the approaching men. She grabbed the employee by the shoulders and turned her away from it, giving her a shake. “Is there someplace we can hide?!”

  “The…” Bailey stammered, pointing wildly. “The break room, it’s this way!” She took off like a shot, and Grace followed. Dante grabbed the asshole customer by the collar and jerked him along, the man finally snapping out of it enough to follow.

  Bailey led them to the back of the store, making a turn down the wall. There was a small room about twenty yards down, and she pulled out a set of keys, fumbling with them to get one into the lock.

  Dante glanced down one aisle and saw a young portly couple ducked down behind a cereal display, clutching each other.

  “Get over here!” he barked, waving wildly at them.

  They scrambled out from cover and he waved even harder for them as a few corpses tore around the corner behind them into the aisle.

  “Hurry up!” he bellowed, and Bailey threw the door open so everyone could pile inside.

  Dante waited for the couple to fly in past him, and then darted inside, slamming the door just in the nick of time. Bodies thumped against it from the other side, and he threw the deadbolt, backing away from the door, shaking his head.

  The group stared in horror as bloodied hands smacked against the small window, gnashing their teeth against the safety glass. A familiar head appeared in the window.

  “Jesus fucking christ,” the mean customer breathed.

  The EMT’s bottom jaw was unhinged, missing several teeth, dangling and bouncing against its neck as it tried to smack its way through the door.

  Dante clenched his jaw and walked to the door, pulling the shade down over the window to conceal them in the small break room.

  Bailey raised a shaky hand to her forehead. “What the hell is going on?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The banging on the door continued, and the group stood silent, trying to make sense in their heads of what was going on. The silence broke when the woman from the cereal aisle began to cough violently. Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, trying to steady her in her fit.

  “Are you okay?” Bailey asked, leaning over to check on her.

  “Yeah, just a cold,” the woman finally gasped, straightening back up. “Having some issues shaking it the last couple of days.”

  Bailey nodded. “We might have some cold medicine in the cabinets if you think it would help,” she suggested, motioning to the counter behind her.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” the mean customer bellowed, throwing up his hands. “We just saw people get their throats ripped out and you’re talking about cold medicine?! We need to know what the hell is going on here!”

  The girls shared a look that clearly expressed disdain for his tone.

  “On the way up here, we heard on the news that there were riots breaking out around the country,” the man from the cereal aisle piped up. “Maybe some of those rioters have made their way up from Savannah or down from Charleston?”

  “I don’t know what kind of riots you’ve been in, boy!” the jerk cried. “But last time I checked, rioters don’t typically eat people!”

  “Yelling is getting us nowhere,” Grace cut in, holding out her hands. “We need to be productive and figure out how to get out of this. Now, does anybody have a cell phone?” As everyone fumbled in their pockets, she straightened up.

  Dante patted his pocket, but shook his head. “Must have left it at the hotel,” he said, shrugging at Grace.

  “I got nothing,” the guy from the cereal aisle said, sighing.

  Grace furrowed her brow. “Can’t get a call through?”

  “No, I mean I got nothing,” he replied, holding up his phone screen for her to see. “No service.”

  The mean customer growled and smacked his phone before slamming it down on the lunch table. “You know, I bought this at your store,” he snapped, pointing at Bailey as she turned around with a bottle of cough medicine. “Why the hell isn’t it working?”

  She stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen.

  “So that’s how you respond to a screwed customer?” he demanded. “Silence? Why isn’t this working?”

  Grace slammed her hands down on the table. “Hey, dipshit,” she snarled, “does she look like a cell phone technician?”

  He blinked at her, to in shock the young woman was speaking to him that way.

  “Did I fucking stutter?” she snapped. “Does she look like a cell phone technician?”

  He shook his head and stammered, “Um… no?”

  “No, she doesn’t, does she?” she said firmly, standing up. “Now why don’t you quit whining like a spoiled five year old and start helping us figure out our next move?”

  He lowered his gaze, wilting underneath her tone. Bailey gave her a thankful look, and handed the cough medication to the cereal aisle woman, who offered a smile in response.

  “Let’s start simple,” Grace continued, now in control of the room. “I’m Grace, that’s my brother Dante, and this lovely Super Center employee is Bailey.”

  “I’m Connor,” the cereal aisle man piped up as he shoved his useless phone back into his pocket, “and this is my wife June.”

  She gave a little wave before dissolving into more coughs, fumbling with the package of pills. Everyone else glanced at the asshole customer, who rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

  “Fine,” he drawled, “I’m Troy, forty-two, and an investment banker from New York City that makes more in a week than all of you combined in a year. Now if we’re done with this first day of kindergarten bullshit, can we kindly figure out what the fuck is going on?”

  Dante cocked his head in Bailey’s direction. “You’ve been here all morning, haven’t you?” he asked, and when she nodded, he motioned for her to speak. “Do you know what happened with the
attack earlier?”

  “I was in the back when it happened, so I didn’t see it,” she admitted, shaking her head. “There was just a scream, and then a panicked call over the radio for security to come up to the front. After a couple of minutes, the manager came on and told everyone to stay in their sections. I just thought another customer was throwing a temper tantrum…” She glanced at Troy, tonguing her cheek. “Which seems to be quite common in these parts.”

  Before he could get riled up, Dante turned to the young couple. “And you two?” he asked. “Were you here when it happened?”

  “Yeah,” June choked out, swallowing two pills dry. “We were near the back when we heard the commotion. We didn’t think anything of it and just kept shopping.”

  Troy rolled his eyes. “Nice situational awareness, there,” he scoffed.

  “We’ve both spent time in retail hell,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. “We know the kind of shit that goes on. If we had a dollar for every time we’ve heard someone lose their shit at a cashier, we’d be rich enough to own the place.”

  Bailey nodded in silent agreement, suddenly looking tired.

  Dante peered out the window, pulling back the shade just a hair so he wouldn’t give them away. Most of the corpses had moved away from the door, a few of them sprinting up the aisle. He wondered if they’d spotted another poor soul, but couldn’t be sure.

  A creature staggered towards the door, wearing a bloodied Super Center uniform. He looked closely, seeing it had a bite on the back of its leg and shoulder, as well as a few other places. He shook his head.

  “Zombies,” he muttered under his breath, disbelieving. “Really?”

  “The fuck you just say?” Troy barked.

  “Nothing,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

  Troy pointed a finger at him angrily. “Bullshit, you said zombies,” he declared. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  There was a tense silence in the room, as everyone tried to process that information.

  “Dante…” Grace said slowly, confused at her normally level-headed brother. “Did you really say zombies?”

  He nodded, stepping away from the window. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted.

  “You sure those burns on your face didn’t cook your brain a bit?” June asked dryly.

  He ignored her barb, shaking his head. “I know how it sounds,” he replied, “but between ripping off that EMT’s jaw, and Bailey’s coworker who we saw get ripped to shreds running around, I don’t know what else to call them. Regardless, it doesn’t matter what they are. What matters is that they’re fast, vicious, and if we’re going to have any chance of getting out of here alive, we’re going to need weapons.”

  Troy stared down his nose at Bailey. “So do you know where the gun section is, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with condescension.

  She shook her head. “There is no gun section at this store.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” He threw up his hands. “This is South Carolina? How in the holy hell is there not a gun section?!”

  “Apparently too many rich New Yorkers vacationed on the island and complained to the manager about it,” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips, finally having enough of his antics. “Something about offending their sensibilities, so he had it removed last year.”

  He huffed and threw himself down into a chair. “Okay, so what do you have here that we can use to defend ourselves?” he asked petulantly.

  “Baseball bats,” Dante cut in. When everyone turned to him, eyes wide, he spread his arms. “They’re compact, lightweight, and can crush a skull if you hit it just right.”

  Troy rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go again with the zombie bullshit,” he drawled. “I suppose you think we need to destroy the brain or something?”

  “Well…” Dante scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “I already tried ripping the jaw off of one of them, and the thing didn’t so much as flinch. Pretty sure whatever these things are, they don’t care about pain. So if you want to try and gut punch them, you have at it. I’m aiming straight for the dome. One thing I’ve learned over my years of training is that if you hit anything in the head hard enough, it goes down, regardless of what it is.”

  Troy contemplated for a moment, and then begrudgingly nodded.

  “Bailey, where is the sporting good section?” Grace asked.

  She swallowed hard. “About six aisles down to the left,” she said, motioning. “Bats should be in the middle of an aisle, at least they were in my store.”

  “Okay, Troy,” Dante said, rubbing his palms together. “You ready to do this?”

  The banker blinked at him incredulously. “Fuck you, if you think I’m going back out there willingly,” he scoffed. “I’m content sitting my happy ass here until the cavalry comes.”

  “This shit just started twenty minutes ago. The EMTs are already wiped out, we’re outnumbered, and the cell network has collapsed,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go out on a lib and assume help ain’t coming.”

  Grace nodded. “Connor’s right,” she agreed. “We gotta go out there and get weapons so we can fight our way out.”

  “Well, if he’s so right, then let him go out there and risk his skin,” Troy snapped.

  June coughed and shook her head. “My hubby is a lot of things, but a fighter ain’t one of ‘em,” she wheezed. “Hell of a stiff breeze can knock him flat on his ass.”

  “Well that’s obvious if he’s letting you do all the fighting for him,” Troy said dismissively, waving her off. “What kind of man does that, huh?”

  Connor’s eyes darkened. “The kind of man that knows she has a bigger dick than anybody in this room,” he declared, “and she’ll gladly fuck you with it if you don’t lay off.”

  June glared at the banker, and he withered under her intense stare.

  “So, what do you say?” Dante asked, regarding Troy. “You wanna man up and help me out? Or do we get to sit back and watch June bend you over a table?”

  The banker’s eyes flashed, but he bit his tongue and got up from the table. “All right hotshot, let’s get this over with so I can go on my way and never have to look at your ugly mug again.”

  “Fine by me,” Dante replied. “You follow my lead, you good with that?” he asked.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Troy muttered.

  Grace reached out and grabbed Dante’s hand, drawing her lower lip between her teeth and looking up at him with side eyes. “Brother, you be safe out there,” she said.

  He winked at her with his good eye and smirked, playfully motioning to his face. “When have you ever known me to play it safe?”

  She forced a smile. “Just try,” she whispered, “for me.”

  He nodded and then turned to the group. “Now listen,” he said, “there’s a good chance we’re going to be coming in hot, so you be ready to slam this door as soon as we’re through.” He looked at June. “Can you be ready to help?” he asked gently.

  She coughed, but gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry,” she replied, “my fat ass will make sure that door stays shut.”

  Dante blushed a little. “My apologies, I wasn’t implying—”

  “Aw honey,” she replied, waving him off. “You ain’t got nothing to apologize for. I know what I am, and frankly it’s about damn time I put it to good use.”

  He nodded at her, glad she hadn’t taken it personally, especially considering his own physical traits that got addressed all the time. “Okay, we move quick and silent,” he said, turning to Troy. “If there’s trouble in the aisle, I’ll handle it while you grab the bats. Once they’re in hand, we haul ass back here to regroup. You good with that?”

  The banker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he drawled, “let’s get this done.”

  Dante snapped his fingers. “Hey.” He stared him down. “Are you good with that?”

  “Yes, I’m good,” Troy said firmly.

  Satisfied, Dante turned to his sis
ter. “You be ready for us,” he said, and peeked out the window once more. The immediate coast was clear, so he cracked open the door, and he and Troy slid out of the break room as silently as they could.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dante led Troy away from the break room, taking slow quiet steps towards the sporting goods aisle. He looked across, seeing a sign on top of one five aisles down that read baseball, basketball, soccer. He pointed and looked back at his companion, who nodded.

  He paused at the end cap, peering down to see if the coast was clear. He motioned for Troy to follow him and then darted across to the next end cap. The next one was clear, and when he stopped at the third, he spotted three zombies feasting away on a helpless twitching victim.

  The creatures munched away, tearing flesh from bone, their meal convulsing as the last of their life left their body.

  Dante turned to Troy and held up three fingers and then put one to his lips to signal there were three ghouls and they needed to be silent. Troy nodded, eyes wide, and then they moved as quickly as they could across the way, keeping their footfalls as silent as possible.

  Dante checked the next one, and glanced back at his companion, who was checking to make sure the feasting corpses hadn’t noticed them. He gave a thumbs up, and so they moved up to the final aisle.

  Dante looked down and spotted a lone zombie standing near the bats. He turned and nodded to Troy, holding up one finger. They shared a firm nod, and then Dante made the turn, creeping up the aisle.

  The zombie stood transfixed by a light glaring off of a metal display, moaning and clawing at it. Dante kept his eye on the ghoul, and the baseball bats on the shelf between them.

  If I can reach one of those, then we’re in business, he thought. But when he was within five steps of the equipment, the ghoul turned towards him, letting out a growl and sprinting forward.

  “Get the bats!” Dante bellowed, and rushed the zombie, lowering his shoulder. He hit it in the gut, and wrapped his arms around its knees, flinging it onto its back. He put his entire weight into his knees, pinning its chest, and held its face down by the throat with his strong hand.