Dead America The Third Week (Book 9): Dead America, Carolina Front, Part 5

by Slaton, Derek

  “They aren’t coming this way,” Miles replied, shaking his head at the thirty or so zombies now in the street. He broke away and rushed over to his partner. “Too many of those things.”

  Coleman leaned out and squeezed off a few more shots, missing his target. Several bullets flew back at him, a few ricocheting off of the wall where he hid, and he ducked back beside his friend.

  “I think you may have pissed them off,” Miles said brightly.

  Coleman nodded. “Pretty safe assumption,” he replied, and peeked around the corner again. They were getting a little too close for comfort. “Fall back to the houses,” he said, and after a quick countdown, they broke cover.

  The duo tore towards the closest house, and as they approached it, several zombies appeared on both sides, drawn to the gunfire.

  “Pick where we’re going!” Miles cried.

  Shots rang out behind them, one whistling as it narrowly missed him, and they darted through the yard.

  “In the house!” Coleman yelled, and hip fired his rifle a few times, shattering the front bay window. He didn’t stop moving, diving through it into the living room. He landed on the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him as his chest hit the hardwood floor.

  Miles leapt in behind him, taking a more tactful hop over the threshold as bullets ripped into the house.

  Coleman rolled over and drew his handgun as a zombie ambled towards him from the hallway. As he aimed, Miles rushed over to it, and grabbed the creature by it’s shirt, whipping it around and then throwing it right out the front window. He took a knee and peered out the corner of the window at the six men chasing them.

  He fired a few shots, forcing the men to stop their forward momentum and find cover, or hit the ground. A few of them fired back, and he backed away from the window.

  “Persistent fuckers, aren’t they?” he muttered.

  More windows exploded, and a lucky shot managed to hit the door knob, and the front door swung open by its own accord. Zombies immediately took advantage, and began pouring into the house.

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Coleman growled, and they leapt to their feet.

  The firing stopped for a moment as the zombies invaded the house, and Miles lunged for them. He crashed into the lead zombie with a vicious shoulder bash, sending it into the second one and back out the door. He gave it a swift kick in the chest and they went down the front porch step, clearing the doorway.

  Miles flipped off the gunmen through the open door and then ducked for cover as bullets flew once again.

  “The bird, huh?” Coleman chuckled, shaking his head at his friend.

  Miles shrugged, brushing off one of his shoulders. “Yeah, gotta remind them that they aren’t breaking us.”

  A lamp above Coleman’s head exploded in an array of glass and flowery fabric, and he covered his head, laughing even more at their situation. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get to the school.”

  They crawled along the floor to the back of the house, careful to avoid broken glass, and peeked out the rear entry. When they were sure there were no zombies there, they crept to the corner of the house and Coleman peered discreetly around the corner to see the gunmen were aiming at the zombies everywhere, buying them at least a few moments.

  He aimed and fired, hitting one of the closest men in the chest, dropping him to the ground. “They’re following us for sure, now,” he muttered, and then clapped Miles on the back.

  The duo raced off, leaving the gunmen to fight off the zombies and then come chasing after them. They spotted the school in the distance, about fifty yards away past another row of houses. There was another horde past it, shambling towards all the noise, so both men pumped their legs hard to beat the undead to their target.

  They ran as hard as they could, and the gunfire began to die down in the background. That put them on the clock, and their chests heaved and lungs burned as they sprinted towards the school.

  When they reached the side that faced the neighborhood, they each picked a window, using the butt ends of their rifles to smash the glass. They cleared out the shards and quickly leapt inside a classroom.

  Coleman stuck by his window as Miles swept the room. He listened for movement as he moved quickly and purposefully towards the door, creaking it open and looking into the hallway. There was a glass wall at the front of the building, with several zombies milling about outside, but the hallway itself was empty.

  “Hallway is clear,” he reported as he ducked back inside. “And we have reinforcements out front.”

  “How many?” Coleman asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Miles peeked out again. “Half dozen immediately, god only knows after that,” he replied.

  “Door?” Coleman asked.

  Miles shook his head. “Just like a fire extinguisher,” he said with a grin. “In case of emergency, break glass.”

  His partner smiled as Miles returned to the window, and they exchanged a fist bump before taking up defensive positions at their windows.

  “So how do you want to play it?” Coleman asked.

  Miles checked his ammo. He was down to ten shots in his rifle. “Gonna have to get them real close if I’m gonna shoot them,” he replied, shaking his head. “Can’t afford to miss too many more times.”

  Coleman checked his rifle, counting only six shots left. “Same here,” he said.

  “I say we draw them in,” Miles suggested, “get to another classroom down the hall, then shoot past them and bring in reinforcements.”

  His partner nodded thoughtfully. “Worst case is that it’ll draw them out from cover, so we can take them out,” he mused.

  “Best case is they eat the fuckers to the point where they can’t run when they reanimate,” Miles added brightly.

  His partner shuddered. “With the day we’re having, I’ll settle for drawing them out from cover.”

  “Damn straight, brother,” Miles replied with a dark chuckle. “Damn straight.”

  They set up their firing line, and readied themselves for their pursuers to attack.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Terrell rushed up a side street a block off of the main drag, Walter running close behind him. He knew there were four people up ahead, hunting and stalking, but with any luck they’d be looking in the wrong direction when he found them. He kept quiet and low to the ground, eyes sweeping everywhere, trusting Walter to stay silent as well.

  They got a block up, stopping behind a row of dense hedges lining the road. Terrell looked up, seeing a row of houses that ran on for several blocks. He studied the area, not seeing any immediate threat other than a handful of zombies. He ducked back down and turned to the kid.

  “Okay, listen up,” he whispered. “We have to evade detection so I need you to stay as quiet as you can. Also, you can’t kill any zombies,” he said.

  Walter’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to ask why, instead just shaking his head so he didn’t make any noise.

  “If they see a dead zombie they can track us,” the Captain explained, and the kid’s eyes went wide with understanding. “You ready?” Terrell asked.

  Walter nodded, and Terrell gave his shoulder a squeeze before popping his head up one more time to look around, making sure the coast was clear. After he was certain they were alone, he took off.

  They stayed off of the road, running in the yard to soften their footsteps with the grass. As they reached a few houses up, a couple of zombies came around the bend. Terrell paused, and then took off across the street, jogging as lightly as he could to the next set of yards as the zombies shambled after them.

  After moving up a few more blocks, a couple dozen zombies wandered in from a side street, forming a wall in their way. Terrell immediately ducked behind a tree, dragging Walter behind him a few houses down from the street.

  The Captain leaned out slightly, peeking at the corpses, and noticed that they were all moving in the same direction, like lemmings that were drawn to something that intere
sted them.

  This could be an opportunity, he thought, and then grabbed Walter’s arm. He pointed towards the house they were outside of, and then took off towards the front door. It was locked, but there was a tiny strip of window on either side of the doorframe. He used his handgun to smash it open, reaching in to unlock the door.

  The sound of glass shattering alerted a few zombies from the traveling pack. Walter tugged on Terrell’s shirt, frantically pointing at them, his lips pressed into a thin, scared line.

  “They aren’t getting in here,” Terrell assured him quietly, “don’t worry.” He headed inside, and aimed into the dim house. “Make sure that door is locked up tight,” he said, and Walter shut it quietly, latching it and then turning the knob an extra time to make sure it was secure.

  Terrell swept the moderately-sized one story bungalow, noting that nothing seemed disturbed or out of place. He assumed the inhabitants must have been away when the apocalypse hit, because there was zero sign of anyone having been touching anything in there at all.

  He went to the kitchen, flipping through cabinets, and found a sealed pack of crackers and some bottles of water. He scooped them up and then waved for Walter to follow him to the back bedroom.

  They sat down on the bed, and he handed the kid a bottle, opening one for himself. “Bud, I’m gonna need you to stay here,” he said, and poor Walter choked as he chugged a large gulp of water. “When I leave, I want you to barricade this door with everything you can move, do you understand?”

  The kid shook his head as he caught his breath. “No!” he argued. “I can help you out there!”

  Terrell put a hand on his young friend’s shoulder. “If it was just zombies out there, you’d be shoulder to shoulder with me, trust me,” he said sincerely. “But I gotta go on a hunt, and I can’t do that if I’m looking over my shoulder to make sure you’re okay.”

  The kid nodded somberly, disappointed but knowing the Captain was right. “I’ll stay in here until you come get me,” he replied firmly, and then took another, smaller sip of water.

  Terrell took a gulp of his own, and then pursed his lips. It was four against one, and that wasn’t even counting the zombies. He didn’t want to scare the kid, but he didn’t want to leave him stranded, either.

  “Walter,” he said slowly, “this is unlikely, but you need to hear it.” He gave his shoulder a squeeze. “If I don’t come back-”

  “You’re gonna come get me,” Walter shook off his hand, putting up his own. “I know it.”

  Terrell nodded. “I know I am, but just in case,” he replied. “If you’re still here in the morning, I want you to grab some of that water in there and just start walking back to Clinton. Just stay on the main road as much as you can. Xavier will send someone out to look for you.”

  “You ain’t gotta worry about me,” Walter replied, putting on a brave face despite the waver in his voice. “I’ll be okay.”

  Terrell smiled and nodded, proud that his young protege was handling the difficult situation as well as he could given the circumstances. “I’ll be back soon.” He handed over the box of crackers, and shut the door behind him. As soon as he did, he heard the telltale sign of Walter shoving something heavy across the floor to block the door.

  Good job, kid, he thought, and then darted to the front door. He peeked out and saw that several of the zombies from the back had congregated outside.

  “Damn,” he muttered. Looks like I’m going out the back, he thought, and then headed for the back of the house. There were only a couple of zombies in the backyard, apparently drawn to the noise as well. Luckily they were a ways away from the door, giving him an opportunity to get out.

  He secured the door behind him before heading across the grass towards the creatures. The first one received a good shove, and toppled back onto its ass. He barreled into the second one, and then jogged past them, waiting about ten yards away for them to get back to their feet. Once they did, he waved his arms to make sure he caught their attention, and they lumbered towards him instead of the house.

  “That’s right, come get me,” he said quietly. He knew they wouldn’t have been able to get inside, but if he could ease the kid’s mind he would. If there were a bunch of zombies banging on the back door, that would probably just freak him out the whole time Terrell was gone.

  Satisfied with the distraction, Terrell ran through the yards, cutting in between houses as he caught up with a lumbering set of creatures. He remained behind the cover of the houses lining the road and kept pace with them, hoping they’d lead him to pay dirt.

  He didn’t have to wait long, as a shot rang out soon enough, dropping one of the zombies in the group. He couldn’t see where the shot had come from, but the zombies quickly did the work for him, moving as a single unit towards the noise of the blast. It boggled him how they were so easily able to locate the source of a noise that echoed—perhaps their dead ears muffled it like earplugs so they could easily locate where gunshots were coming from.

  He watched from his hiding spot as the creatures moved up towards a house across the street. Another shot rang out, and he watched as four men broke cover, two going to the right and two going to the left.

  It was too fast to tell which group Mario was in, although he was concerned one of the teams was headed back towards the house Walter was in. He shook his head. He didn’t have time to be paranoid. There was no reason why they would be searching every house, and find the kid.

  The zombies broke into two groups, drawn to the noise of both footsteps. A smaller group shambled after the duo to the right, tracking them.

  Looks like you boys are first,” he thought with a dark grin. He watched them carefully as they ran across the street, bypassing the first house they came to. Terrell gave chase, staying behind his row of houses to remain out of sight.

  The two men scrambled for a couple of blocks, eventually reaching a restaurant building a block on the other side of the main road. Terrell was out of cover, so he ducked down about sixty yards from them, watching as they broke out the front door window to get inside.

  A few moments later, he heard a muffled gunshot coming from inside, quickly followed by another one.

  If they’re fighting, I can move, he thought, and then rushed out from behind cover to dart across the road towards the restaurant. A couple more gunshots cracked from inside, stopping when he hit the parking lot.

  With the distraction over, he raced to the side of the building, flattening himself against the bricks next to a window. He glanced inside carefully, seeing that the duo had taken out several zombies and were doing a slow sweep of the dining area.

  When they weren’t looking, he rushed towards the back, stopping between windows to stay out of sight. He peeked inside again, noting one of them walking dangerously close to the windows, starting at the back. He readied his rifle, just in case.

  Terrell held his breath as the man reached the back set of windows, but he didn’t look out of them, simply closed the curtains and then worked his way back to the front of the store. Terrell peered in once his back was turned, and saw his partner on the other side of the building, doing the same thing.

  Ammo is limited, he thought, contemplating. Hard to pass up a point blank shot like this.

  Terrell gripped his rifle tightly, waiting to strike. He watched through the corner of the window as the man closed the curtains on one set before coming up to the one he stood outside of.

  The oblivious man stopped at the window next to Terrell, looking out for a second before wrapping his hands around the curtains. As soon as his arms were wide, the Captain popped his rifle out from behind the corner, firing a quick three-burst blast.

  The bullets tore through the glass and hit the man in the chest, dropping him. Terrell immediately leapt through the window, landing on top of the wheezing man as he struggled for his last breath, lungs like Swiss cheese.

  “Benji!” the other guy yelled, and drew his gun, firing towards Terrell who had safely scampe
red away under a table.

  His living opponent panicked, rushing over towards his fallen friend. Terrell checked his gun, seeing that it was out of bullets, but not wanting to risk the noise of a reload. He laid in wait, tucked away, for his chance.

  The gunman rushed around, looking for the source of his friend’s death, and ran right past Terrell’s hiding spot, giving him the opportunity to get the drop on him. The Captain popped out of hiding, smacking the rifle out of the man’s hands and bringing his palm up in a vicious strike to his face, staggering him backwards.

  The gunman was average height, but large with a healthy beer gut and swollen arms. He growled and fell into a fighting stance.

  “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he spat.

  Terrell barked a laugh. “Unlikely,” he drawled, “but by all means, try your luck.”

  The gunman let out a yell before bum rushing him. Surprised by his speed, Terrell attempted to grab a chair and swing it, but he wasn’t fast enough and the man was able to wrap him up in a bear hug. He picked Terrell up off of the ground, causing the chair to clatter to the floor, harmless.

  As he squeezed the Captain around the waist, Terrell extended his arms wide before boxing the guy’s head hard with his fists as hard as he could. The first blow staggered his opponent, but he didn’t let go. Instead he screamed and squeezed even tighter.

  Terrell responded by repeating the blows several more times in rapid succession, which eventually got too painful to handle. The guy dropped his charge, and the Captain fell onto his back flat on the ground, spine stinging from the powerful bear hug.

  The gunman regained his focus, and rushed towards the downed Terrell like a coked out yeti. As he got close, Terrell rolled out of the way underneath a table, letting his opponent stomp by.

  The Captain leapt to his feet as the man threw a table out of the way and rushed him again. This time, Terrell gave a low straight kick, catching him in the knee and forcing him off-balance. He was able to step out of the way as the pained man stumbled forward, grabbing onto the back of his shirt collar and pulling it back.