“Good to know they don’t teach subtlety in basic anymore,” Strickland said, raising an eyebrow.
Yates simply grinned. “Didn’t seem like a subtle kind of moment, Corporal.”
“Apparently,” Strickland replied dryly, and then glanced back to Becker. “Did you get what we needed?”
“We have enough food on the truck to last us a couple of weeks,” Jean cut in, “seeds to start growing, and I have all the information we need to keep us stocked until we become self sufficient.”
The Corporal let out a deep sigh of relief. “That is fantastic news.”
Becker furrowed his brow. “Hey… where’s the youngster?”
Strickland clenched his jaw and frowned. “He led a group of ghouls away from us so we could secure the fuel,” he said. “Been trying him on the radio, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”
“He’s a tough kid,” Yates piped up. “He’ll be alright.”
“I hope so,” Strickland replied somberly. “But nothing we can do about it right now, so let’s get this chopper loaded up.”
Becker nodded. “Yes, sir.”
They pulled canned goods from the truck and loaded the cargo holds of the chopper until Paul declared them near dangerously overweight. As he closed the hatches, there was a rustle in the bushes behind them.
Becker and Strickland spun around, aiming their rifles at a smirking Private Goodman.
“You weren’t going to leave without me, were you?” he asked as he trudged towards them, soaking wet.
A huge smile broke out on Strickland’s face as he clapped him on the back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He frowned at the sight of crimson lines criss-crossing the young man’s skin. “Good lord. Is that your blood, or zombie blood?”
“Little from column A, a little from column B,” Goodman admitted. “Took a nasty trip through some brush on the side of the interstate.”
The Corporal gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “When we get back, your first visit is to the infirmary.”
“Yes, sir,” Goodman replied.
Paul leaned out of the chopper. “Hey, y’all ready to get the hell outta here?” he asked. “I know I am.”
Strickland nodded, and waved the Private forward. “After you, Goodman.”
The young man went up first as the helicopter whirred to life, the rest of the team following. They secured their belts and hope soared in their chests as the chopper began to climb into the air, full of food and seeds and gas.
From the air, they watched the fire raging on the bridge at the interstate, hundreds of zombies massed around it, some flailing in the flames. The landing site was completely clear, hopefully leaving their fuel supply safe for the time being.
The sun hung low on the horizon as the bird headed back for their stadium home, each team member thankful in their own way that they’d fulfilled their mission of keeping all of the survivors back there alive.
END
DEAD AMERICA: THE SECOND WEEK
BOOK 5
HEARTLAND - PT. 3
BY DEREK SLATON
© 2019
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +11
The landscape was vacant beneath the midday sun, the Missouri River flowing along the east side of the chugging train into a large reservoir.
Bill focused hard on the tracks, plugging at a brisk pace but keeping a keen eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Even in the middle of nowhere they had to stay vigilant; something could pop up at any moment.
“Can somebody explain to me why we’re trying to get up to Seattle instead of just settling down here?” Private Johnson asked from the window, waving a hand at the beautiful scenery. “Look at this, ain’t nothin’ for days.”
Sergeant Kersey didn’t look up from the map he was holding. “Because the U.S. military is a thirsty beast that requires all manner of resources, most notably oil,” he explained flatly. “And not only are the Canadian oil fields within reach, but Washington state has the fifth highest refinery capacity of any state in the union.”
“Interesting,” Johnson replied, stroking his chin, “but how in the hell did you know that random-ass factoid?”
Kersey shrugged, still staring at the map. “Because General Stephens told me that when I suggested the exact same thing you just did.”
“Great minds, huh?” Johnson chuckled.
The Sergeant shrugged. “Yeah, something like that.”
The soldiers pitched forward as Bill hit the brakes on the train.
“Goddammit!” Johnson cried as he fell down onto one knee. “What is it now?”
Bill motioned out the window. “Pickup truck on the tracks,” he replied.
Kersey folded up his map and they surveyed the cluster of houses on the west side of the tracks. To the east were three nondescript buildings.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Johnson threw his hands up. “There’s like twenty people in this fucking town. How does a truck end up on the tracks?”
Bill shrugged. “Not sure, but we still gotta take care of it.”
“Probably for the best,” Kersey replied. “We’re getting really close to Helena. Might do us a bit of good to regroup before hitting that.”
The engineer nodded. “Probably a good call, as it’s the fifth largest city in the state.”
“What, did General Stephens tell you that one, too?” Johnson groaned as he brushed himself off.
Bill smirked. “Nope, I just paid attention in college.”
Kersey barked a laugh as the train came to a full screeching stop. The three men clambered down from the engine car, and the first box car opened, revealing the rest of their team.
Private Kowalski jumped down first, rubbing his squinting eyes in the bright sun. “Damn Bill, any chance you can get a slow rolling stop next time?” he moaned. “I was firmly in dreamland, then the next thing I know Baker and Mason were laying on top of me.”
“Sorry about that,” Bill replied, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “I figured we were fine out here in the middle of nowhere, but it appears as though I was mistaken.”
“How big’s the job?” Private Baker asked as he stretched his arms above his head.
Kersey motioned to the front of the train. “Single pickup truck on the tracks.”
“Ah, well, I’m going back to bed then,” Baker replied.
The Sergeant shook his head. “You might as well stay up. We’re getting close to Helena and need a game plan.”
“Fifth largest city in the state!” Johnson declared proudly.
Private Mason raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Good… good to know there, Johnson.”
Bill chuckled and shook his head at Johnson’s wide grin, enjoying the look of glee on the Private’s face at looking smart in front of his comrades. He patted him on the shoulder as they began to walk towards the truck.
“Mason, Johnson, make sure that truck is clear,” Kersey instructed.
The soldiers raised their weapons, keeping guard even in such a tiny town. They did a quick sweep around the vehicle, but found nothing suspicious.
“We’re good,” Johnson said, and reached in to pop the gear shift into neutral.
It didn’t take much effort for them to push the truck up over the tracks, and it rolled easily into the grass off to the side.
“So, what’s next?” Mason asked.
Kersey lowered his gun. “We need to talk about Helena.”
Corporal Bretz cleared his throat, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. “Sergeant, if I might make a suggestion first.”
“What is it?” Kersey asked, turning to him.
Bretz pointed to one of the three buildings across the street, boasting B-A-R in big block letters. “I think we should stock up on some, ahem, vital supplies before discussing our next impossible task.”
The Sergeant grinned. “Two drink maximum, boys. We’ll get the rest to go.”
The soldiers whooped as they headed across the street in a pa
ck, guns at the ready to breach the door to the happiest building in town. Kowalski and Bretz took up position on either side, the former giving a nod before turning the handle and throwing it open.
The Corporal rushed in first, swinging his gun around the dim space. It looked to be in fairly good condition despite the apocalypse, and only a single figure moaned and jerked behind the bar.
Bretz pulled out his flashlight and shone it in the direction of the undead bartender, who was missing the bottom of his jaw, tongue dangling down its neck.
“Clear the back rooms,” the Corporal instructed. “I’ll handle this guy.”
Kowalski nodded. “On it.” He jogged off as Bretz casually approached the bar.
He sat down on a stool, peering behind into the small space. The zombie staggered over, gargling all the way, and the Corporal pulled out his knife, stabbing into the creature’s forehead without even standing up.
“That’s the problem with these small town bars,” Bretz said, shaking his head. “It’s almost impossible to find quality help.”
“We’re clear back there,” Kowalski announced as he came back in from the rear room.
Kersey led the rest of the soldiers inside. “Baker, Mason, see what you can do about getting us some light in here. Johnson, why don’t you set us up something to drink?”
“Coming right up, sir,” Johnson replied with a grin, and hopped over the bar. He kicked aside the corpse and got to work, setting up a line of glasses and pouring a double-shot of whiskey for each of his comrades. He held up his own glass, prompting everyone to do the same. “To the best damn group of rail riders I’ve ever known,” he declared.
There was a smattering of hell yeah’s and damn straight’s, and Bill let out a laugh.
“Well, you guys haven’t gotten me killed yet,” he said, “so yeah, y’all are the best in my book as well.”
Everyone clinked their glasses together and took sips of their drinks, relishing in the delightful burn of the alcohol so long denied them.
“Bill, can you join Bretz and I over here?” Kersey asked, waving him to a table in the center of the room. “We could use your expertise.”
“Sure thing,” the engineer replied, leaving the others to cheers a second time.
“Remember, two drink maximum,” the Sergeant said firmly, pointing at the Privates. “I don’t want to end up getting shot because one of y’all is drunk shooting.”
“I’ll keep ‘em in line, Sarge,” Kowalski said with a wink.
Kersey shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m sure you will.” He turned to the table and sat down next to Bretz, who laid out a road map of the area.
“Bill, what do you know about the tracks in Helena?” the Corporal asked as he drew his finger along the rail line.
“There’s a small yard there, I think maybe five, six tracks worth,” Bill replied, leaning forward on his elbows to look at the map. “With any luck, it’ll be empty and we can just roll right through.”
“And if it’s not?” Kersey asked.
The engineer clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. “We may want to consider abandoning this train and finding something at the other end of the yard.”
“Kind of defeats the purpose of clearing a path, doesn’t it?” Bretz raised an eyebrow.
The Sergeant puffed out his cheeks and then cocked his head. “Well, there’s seven of us, including Bill, and I doubt we have more than a hundred rounds left between us. We haven’t been through any town this big yet, and it’s not going to take much for us to get overwhelmed.”
“I’m not sure the General is going to be particularly happy with it,” Bretz replied, and then shook his head, raising his glass. “But fuck it, he isn’t here.”
Kersey laughed. “Cheers to that.”
CHAPTER TWO
Bill slowed significantly about two miles from the city. He and the soldiers were on high alert, ready to stop at a moment’s notice. Mason and Baker stood on the outer railing while the rest of the team were packed inside the engine car.
“What in the holy hell?” Johnson breathed as they came around the bend towards the city.
There were piles and piles of dead bodies on either side of the tracks. Bill eased the train to a stop.
“Didn’t expect to see this,” Bretz said, taking in the walls of rotted flesh. “Sarge, what do you think?”
“It’s like someone is making a mass grave,” Kersey replied, motioning to the excavation equipment off to one side.
Johnson blinked a few times. “There’s gotta be what, a few thousand bodies there?”
“Easily,” Bill replied, and stifled a gag as the scent permeated the cabin. “Judging by the smell, I’d peg it even higher than that.”
Kersey clenched his jaw. “Let’s keep moving. We need to see what’s going on in Helena.”
The engineer nodded and eased the throttle forward, inching them forward into the city. As the skyline came into view, the soldiers leaned forward in confusion.
“Sarge, are those lights?” Bretz asked, eyes widening.
Kersey pulled out his binoculars, stepping right against the window to peer at one of the buildings several hundred yards ahead. Even in the late afternoon sun it was clear there were floodlights on.
“Unless I’m going blind,” he replied, “those are indeed lights.”
Bill slowed to a gentle stop again, staying short of a makeshift barricade blocking the tracks. Somebody had put up a fence, and it extended on either side of the tracks in either direction. A trio of pickup trucks approached up the railroad, and Kersey stepped out of the cab to join Baker and Mason on the front, weapons at the ready.
“Lower your guns,” the Sergeant said, “but keep them ready. Given that pile of bodies we just passed, whoever is in charge of this town has some firepower. Might be a good idea to get on their good side.”
The trucks stopped on the other side of the fence, in a V formation, and a short fit white man with black hair jumped out of the front vehicle. He strolled up to the barricade, as casual as if it were a normal summer day.
“Well howdy,” he greeted, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “If I had to venture a guess, I’d say y’all aren’t from around these parts.”
Kersey chuckled. “What gave us away?”
“Not to insult yer sneaking ability, but riding into town on a big ole train is a dead giveaway,” the man replied with a toothy grin. “Plus, as much as I hate to admit it, tourism has been a bit down the last few weeks. In fact, nobody has come through here in quite some time. So anybody new is gonna be raisin’ my suspicion.”
The Sergeant spread his palms slowly. “Well, if you’ll have us, I have a few boys here who could use some quality R and R.”
“Definitely a possibility,” the man said, and cocked his head. “But first, why don’t you tell me who y’all are and what y’all are doin’ here.”
“My name is Sergeant Kersey, U.S. Military,” Kersey explained. “I have a team of five plus my civilian train engineer and we are clearing a path to the Northwest so the bulk of our men in the Midwest can make their way up there.”
The man raised his chin thoughtfully, shifting his weight to one hip. “The Northwest, huh? Something big going down?”
“That’s the current rumor,” the Sergeant replied, with what he hoped looked like a noncommittal shrug.
“All right, good enough for me,” the man replied, and gave a thumbs-up to the trucks behind him. “Why don’t you boys lock up your train and your rifles and I’ll take you to meet Mayor Hogan.”
Kersey took a deep breath. “You don’t honestly expect us to go with you unarmed, do you?”
“Not at all,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Sidearms are just fine. In these difficult times, we are trying our best to live in town the way it was before all this. And frankly, having a group of army men walking around with assault rifles isn’t the best way to be achievin’ that.”
The Sergeant nodde
d. “Fair enough. We’ll be right down.” He stepped back into the cab, followed by the Privates outside. “Leave the rifles in the cab, sidearms only.”
“That’s leaving us awfully light,” Bretz replied, pursing his lips.
Kersey shrugged. “Not like we really have the ammo for them anyway.”
“This is true,” the Corporal agreed bitterly, and unslung the large gun from his shoulder.
“All right, everybody on their best behavior,” Kersey said firmly, looking each man in the eye in turn. “Bill, no matter what happens, you’re with me. Always. We clear?”
Bill nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay,” the Sergeant said, letting out a deep whoosh of breath. “Let’s go check out the mysteries of Helena.”
CHAPTER THREE
Kersey and Kowalski rode in the backseat of the main man’s truck, Bill nestled comfortably between them. The dark haired man—whose name had turned out to be Seth—drove across the outskirts of town and then onto the road and into the heart of it, his companion in the passenger’s seat stoic all the way.
The soldiers gawked at the stores along the street fully lit up with power, the town almost looking normal.
Kowalski did a double take at the sight of a man at the grocery store helping an older lady load up paper bags into her car. “I have so many questions,” he blurted.
“In due time, sir,” Seth replied with a chuckle. “Mayor Hogan will gladly answer all of yer questions.”
“But I’m just… how?” Kowalski stammered. “It doesn’t look like anything has even happened here. It’s like the apocalypse jumped overtop of you.”
Seth took a deep breath. “As I’m sure you noticed when you rolled in, the apocalypse most certainly did not skip us over.”
“I’m… I’m sorry.” Kowalski’s face drained of all color. “I’m truly sorry for saying that. I really didn’t think before I spoke.”
“It’s alright,” their host replied. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. And I can only imagine what y’all have seen out there. We only got a brief glimpse of it before the TV went dark. I can see how our town is a bit of a shock to you.”
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