Dead America: The First Week Box Set Books 1-7 (Dead America Box Sets Book 2)

by Derek Slaton

  Wagner returned his smile. “Yep.”

  “Peachy,” the Captain quipped and listed his radio to his mouth. “Hey Coleman, you still remember how to fly?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “It’s been a few years, but I’m pretty sure I can get us airborne,” Coleman said into his radio, groaning as he sat up from his comfortable lying position. “Where’s the bird at?”

  “Outside the maintenance hangar, about a hundred yards northwest of your current position,” Terrell’s voice came back.

  The Corporal looked out towards the hangar, raising an eyebrow at the hundred or so zombies between it and him. “Hey Captain, I’m not one to poke holes in your plan, but I think I see a slight flaw in it.”

  “You ain’t underestimating me there, are you Coleman?” Terrell asked, amusement laced in his tone.

  The Corporal shook his head with an exasperated smile. “Well, Cap, from where I’m sitting it’s going to take a hell of a magic trick on your part to make these fuckers disappear.”

  The drone buzzed up to him and seemed to taunt him in the air.

  “You just sit back and prepare to be amazed by Terrell the Magnificent!” the Captain bellowed through the radio.

  Coleman deadpanned at the little camera on the drone. “If you are banking on me being your assistant, just know right now that I don’t look good in sequins.”

  “That’s easily the most disturbing image my mind is going to see all week,” Terrell replied, “and that’s saying something.”

  The Corporal chuckled. “Just doing my part, Cap.” He watched the drone flies by him, and held his middle finger out directly into the camera as it went. The drone lowered down to about eight feet above ground level, and several of the zombies screeched at the noise. It moved away, causing most of them to follow it towards the maintenance hangar.

  When it reached the vicinity of the hangar, it cut towards the front gate to try to draw as many as possible away from the helicopter.

  “That was impressive, Captain,” Coleman admitted, “but there are still about twenty in my way.”

  Terrell chewed his lip for a moment, watching the monitor showing the drone’s camera feed. “Hang tight, and get ready to run,” he finally said into his radio. “And for the love of god, don’t take off without me!”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Cap,” Coleman replied.

  Terrell leaned over Lynch, squinting at the screen. “When you get to the street, see if you can find a high-end car. The ritzier the better.”

  The Corporal raised an eyebrow. “Sports car? Sedan? SUV?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the Captain replied, “just as long as it looks expensive.”

  Lynch flew the drone to the front gate, a throng of zombies in tow. It ducked out into the street and he turned right and left in his search, finally fixating on a cherry red sports car.

  “Got one,” he confirmed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Smack the drone into it as hard as you can,” Terrell replied.

  Lynch gaped. “If I do that, it might destroy it,” he warned.

  “Were you planning on taking it with you to the rally point?” the Captain asked.

  The Corporal looked to Wagner and back. “Um. No?”

  “Then crash it into the car,” Terrell insisted, and Lynch shrugged.

  He hovered the drone above the car, and then executed a perfect nosedive straight into the hood of it. The force of the impact set off the car alarm, loud bleating echoing throughout the base. Most of the remaining zombies perked up at the noise, screeching and rushing to the gate.

  “On the move, Captain,” Coleman’s voice rang through.

  Terrell nodded. “Right behind you, Coleman.”

  The Corporal ran to the edge of the roof and turned around, dropping down to hang from his hands. He swung towards the wall and sprung off it on the way down, landing lightly on his feet and taking off running as soon as he did so. A straggling zombie took notice of him as he bolted for the hangar, and took off running towards him like a free safety chasing down a receiver.

  Just before they were about to cross paths, Coleman stutter stepped, stopping just short of the zombie’s path, shoving it in the back as it flew past him. The ghoul stumbled and fell face first into the dirt as the Corporal continued his sprint, putting significant distance between them.

  A few other zombies nearby took notice of the fleeing man and took off after him, but he made it to the chopper and hopped inside. He slammed the door just in time for rotting flesh to slap against the outside. He flipped the engine on, and peered out to see Terrell running at full speed about fifty yards away, a few zombies of his own chasing him.

  As he got closer, Terrell let out a scream and the three zombies assaulting the helicopter came running for him. Just before they reached his bolting form, he leapt into the air and executed a stunning flying knee into the lead zombie’s chest, sending it toppling back into his brethren. The Captain stumbled but righted himself just fast enough to fling his way up into the chopper and slam the door.

  “Good to see you, Captain,” Coleman said, as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

  Terrell nodded, chest heaving as he raised his hand and whipped it in tight circles. “Likewise. Now let’s get this bird in the air.”

  “Yes sir!” Coleman replied emphatically, and flipped a few more switches. “Hey Cap,” he said, furrowing his brow. “We seem to be missing the guidance system.”

  Terrell pointed straight up. “We’re going that way.”

  The Corporal shook his head and chuckled before taking off. One of the zombies managed to hold fast to the side of the chopper, but fell from about fifteen feet in the air, crashing into its buddies like a bowling ball into a set of pins.

  “Stay as low as you safely can and try to attract as many of those things as possible,” Terrell instructed. “Lead ‘em out the gate.”

  Coleman nodded and maneuvered the chopper around the camp, about twenty feet above the ground. The low flying drew the attention of every single zombie, despite the car alarm, and they staggered after the helicopter right out of the gate.

  “Captain Graham,” Wagner came through Terrell’s radio, “looks like the coast is clear. We’re going to move.”

  “I gotcha, Colonel,” the Captain replied, and slid open his door, assault rifle at the ready. “If any of them head back your way, I got a distraction ready.”

  “Do you have the coordinates of the rendezvous?” Wagner asked.

  “Negative,” Terrell said, “we’re pulling in the opposite direction. Don’t know how relentless these things are. Doesn’t do much good to clear a path if we lead them right back to y’all.”

  There was a moment of silence before Wagner clicked back. “Understood. If you can, head to the coast and send a message on emergency channel four. I’ll do everything I can to arrange a pickup.”

  “Thank you Colonel,” Terrell said sincerely, “and good luck.”

  “You as well, Captain.”

  The soldiers in the bird kept a close eye on the base as the men exited the buildings and headed towards the transports. Several sporadic shots rang out as they took out the few zombie stragglers left inside. A few of the horde hanging out by the front gate turned, and Terrell hit the ground on his side of them, refocusing their attention on the chopper.

  The men piled into the transports, but as soon as they fired up the engines several of the horde startled and turned back to the base.

  “Kill the engines!” Terrell screamed into his radio, and the trucks went silent once again. “Sit tight for five minutes and let us draw them away from the gate.”

  “Ten-four,” Wagner replied.

  “All right Pied Piper, lead them away,” Terrell said to Coleman, who eased the helicopter down the road, making sure not to get too far away from the horde.

  After a few minutes of inching away, there wasn’t a zombie within five hundred yards of the front gate. Terrell hung out the door, watc
hing from his vantage point as the transports exited the base and headed safely in the other direction.

  “They’re clear,” he said, and got back into his seat, shutting the door.

  Coleman nodded in relief. “So where to now, Cap?” As if on cue, the gas light began blinking, signifying low fuel.

  “I’m guessing somewhere nearby?” Terrell couldn’t help but laugh.

  The Corporal nodded. “Head west?”

  “As good a direction as any,” the Captain replied with a shrug. Coleman rose the chopper several hundred feet in the air and sped up, leaving the horde in the dust to head west.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Man, I can’t believe we pulled this shit off.” Corporal Freeman crossed his arms as he stared down at the infield. There was a tent city being erected there, a few children nearby playing a game of football in the end zone.

  Gardner nodded, stepping up beside his comrade. “You ain’t kidding, brother,” he agreed. “I can’t think of another time it was anywhere close to that level of FUBAR.” He watched personnel ripping the seats out of the lower level of the stadium to make room for greenhouses.

  “Maybe that mission we ran a few years back on the Afghan-Iran border?” Webb piped up from his relaxed seat at the dining table, feet up as he munched happily on a stick of pepperoni.

  “Whoa now, we have a civilian in our midst,” Freeman said as he whipped around from the massive window of the club-level box they were in. “Pretty sure that mission was classified, soldier.”

  Marie barked a laugh. “Let me guess, Freeman embarrassed himself and doesn’t want the story told?”

  “Yes,” Frank, Webb and Gardner replied in unison, and Freeman threw his hands up before flopping down in his chair and shoveling beans into his mouth. He scowled at Marie’s expectant expression, and then sighed.

  “All right fine, tell the story if you want,” he muttered. “But if you get court martialed, don’t come crying to me.”

  Webb grinned. “You want to tell this one, or should I?” he asked.

  “You’re the one who got the eyeful,” Gardner replied with a regal bow. “I think you’ve earned the honors.”

  “So, without going into all of the boring details, we’d been tracking this warlord for a couple of weeks,” Webb began, lowering his feet to lean forward as Freeman continued to busy himself with scarfing down his bowl of beans. “He had been giving our boys up north a hell of a time, and command wanted us to bring him in for a chat.

  “So we ended up in this little shithole of a town, maybe a thousand people lived in this place. We were split up into three groups, keeping watch on a few locations we thought he would pop up. Freeman and I were in this small metal shack that I’m pretty sure was used to slaughter goats, because that smell was overwhelming. Well, about four hours into this stakeout, Freeman’s stomach starts making noises like a cat puking up a dying rodent.”

  The offending Corporal raised his spoon in protest. “Now now, in my defense, Afghan food can be hard on some people’s digestive system,” Freeman said, and Frank snorted.

  “Especially when said Afghan food is purchased from an unrefrigerated bucket attached to a 1980’s Schwinn,” Gardner added.

  “Anyway,” Webb continued, “it gets to the point where he can’t handle it anymore, so he takes a break from the line to find a restroom. Which in this case, was a metal bucket hidden behind a dangling piece of sheet metal. Let me tell you, if you think slaughtered goat smells bad, then you’ve never smelled recycled spoiled Afghan food.”

  Freeman wrinkled his nose. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” He pouted.

  “Dude the stench was so bad it alerted the guards across the street,” Webb shot back.

  Marie burst out laughing, her shocked guffaws setting off Gardner and Frank as well.

  “So, here I am, trying to aim my weapon while fighting off dry heaves when one of them hears Freeman doing his business and opens fire,” Webb continued. “Next thing I know, we’re in a full-blown firefight. Bullets are flying, ricocheting off every surface in the building.

  “As I’m hunkered down, I turn and see Freeman crawling across the dirt floor, pants still around his ankles, and the only thought in my head was I’m going to win a lot of bets in the afterlife when we talk about the worst last sights a person had.”

  Freeman simply continued to eat as the rest of the table laughed uncontrollably, ignoring the ribbing from his companion.

  “So…” Marie gasped for air as she struggled to catch her breath. “How did y’all get out of it?”

  “Thankfully, the other two teams heard the fire, and converged on our position,” Webb replied. “The warlord had about forty bodyguards, so there were targets everywhere. Once their attention was spread out, we were able to return fire. I made the mistake of glancing over at Freeman, seeing him on his knees, firing his weapon while his ass illuminated with every muzzle flash. I’ve never openly prayed for death, but damned if it wasn’t a close call there.”

  “I can see why you compared that mission to this one,” Marie agreed. “Horror all around.”

  Gardner raised an eyebrow. “While horrific, there was that one incredible moment. You remember Reyes off the top rope?”

  “That was one of the most surreal things I’ve ever witnessed in person,” Webb agreed, a wistfulness to his voice.

  Marie furrowed her brow. “Top rope?”

  “So we had orders to take this asshole alive,” Gardner replied. “During the firefight, we saw a bodyguard escorting him out of the back of this little restaurant. We couldn’t risk taking a shot at him, so Reyes broke cover, climbed on top of the neighboring building, ran to the back and went full Luchador.

  “He jumped off and landed on top of the two of them. Before the rest of his bodyguards knew what had happened, he had the target in the back of the car and on his way out of town. Craziest thing I ever saw!”

  There was a quiet ripple of laughter, but the team sobered up quickly at the cold reminder that their teammate was gone.

  Webb raised his glass. “To Reyes.”

  “And Owens,” Gardner added, lifting his own glass.

  Freeman nodded and extended his own. “And Cole.”

  Everyone else followed suit, and they all took a sip for their fallen friends as Bill Huff walked into the club box.

  “I’m sorry,” he paused, “am I interrupting?”

  “No you’re good Bill, come on in,” Frank said, shuffling over and offering him a seat. “We’re just relaxing and shooting the shit.”

  He nodded his thanks and approached the table. “Well if anybody has earned it, you guys have.”

  “Ahem!” Marie grunted playfully.

  Bill inclined his head to her, putting up a hand. “My apologies. Guys and girl who could whip the hell out of these guys.”

  She preened. “That’s better.”

  “So how’s our new home looking?” Frank asked.

  “We’re a little over our target capacity, but Captain Graham and his team did an exemplary job with the supplies,” Bill replied. “We should be just fine while we wait for the crops to come in. In fact, the extra manpower has come in handy. We’re already about twenty percent of the way there in putting up the greenhouses, and the farmers we recruited are putting in the first seeds as we speak. So in about six or seven weeks, we’ll be dining on fresh produce.”

  The Captain nodded. ”How are the VIPs getting settled?”

  “We got everybody processed and sheltered, although some of them are stuck in tents in the infield for the moment,” Bill admitted. “The engineering conference wasn’t as fruitful as originally hoped, but you were able to secure forty-five engineers and engineering students across a variety of fields. I relayed the info to D.C. and John Teeter wanted me to give you his personal thanks.”

  Frank smiled. “Hopefully they can do some good.”

  “John seems to think they will, once they know what the battle plan is going to be,” the older ma
n replied. “At the moment they are still scrambling to acquire and protect assets.”

  “Well, if Charlotte is any indication, it’s going to get real bad out there,” Freeman piped up.

  Marie cocked her head in interest. “Speaking of that, any word on how the rest of the country is doing?”

  “John didn’t go into much detail when I asked.” Bill shook his head. “But suffice it to say, these are not good times. I’ve known the man thirty plus years, helped him navigate some of the words quagmires in history, and I’ve never seen him this concerned.”

  A thick air of somber recognition fell over the table. If the people at the top were doubting the success of the human race, then things were dire.

  Bill’s radio crackled. “Come in Charlotte Fortress, transport ship alpha is inbound.”

  “Say what you will about Captain Graham,” Frank declared, “but the man has timing.” A chuckle flitted around the table as he extended his hand to Bill. “You mind if I take this one?”

  “By all means, Sir,” the older man replied and placed his radio in the Captain’s hand.

  “Come in alpha, we hear you and are ready for your arrival,” Frank said. “Now with the formalities out of the way, can you please put my good buddy Captain Terrell Graham on the line?”

  There was a long silence. “Captain, it’s Bennett and Foster. Terrell’s not with us.”

  Frank sat up straight, face going white as a sheet. “Bennett, what’s going on?”

  “Just after we took off, Fort Bragg got overrun,” the Corporal explained. “Captain Graham and a few others were safe in the command office, but we don’t know much more than that.”

  “Why in the fuck didn’t you go in after him?” Frank snarled.

  “We had our orders, Sir,” Bennett snapped. “He said that supplying you was the priority, and they didn’t even have a proper read on their situation. We did a quick flyover before heading this way, and there wasn’t a whole lot we could have done. There were hundreds of those things rampaging through the base, and they were making quick work of the men who were there.” He paused, and the group seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation for what came next. “Sir, he wanted me to give you a message. He’s going to work his way towards the city, and when he gets close, he’ll find a way to signal you,” Bennett explained. “He’s resourceful, he’ll be all right.”