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

by Derek Slaton

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Stupid shit.”

  “Stupid shit that saved your life,” Kowalski cut in.

  “Come on, what was it? Drinking and conducting?” Mason pressed.

  Bill scoffed. “No they’re pretty harsh on that, so we save our drinking for the off hours” he replied. “Well, I guess I may as well tell you the whole story. One of the local commuter lines got hit with a nasty stomach bug, so they were short on conductors. Needing the extra cash I decided to volunteer to help them out for a couple of weeks. So during one of the runs I did to the south, I’d always get these same commuters coming back on my train every day. I’d get down to take a piss and grab a coffee, and I’d see the same people hopping off the one car.

  “One of them was this bombshell, she always wore these fuck-me pumps and little skirt suits. She had blonde hair, a natural honey blonde, not one of those bleached bitches. It was always down and wavy, lookin’ like she’d just taken it out of the bun she had it in for work. She’d run her hands through it and just shake it out while she strutted into the terminal. I always enjoyed following her back into the terminal, you know how it is.” He smirked.

  Mason shook his head, but he was smiling.

  “So one evening, I take a piss and head over to grab a coffee, and there she is,” Bill continued. “She smiles and says ‘hey, you’re the conductor for the last commuter train, right?’ and I say yeah. I’m not sure where she’s goin’ with this, maybe she left something on the train and she wants me to get her back on or something. Anyway, I’m just happy she’s talkin’ to me. As much as I like checkin’ her out from behind, it’s pretty enjoyable from the front, too.” He waggled his eyebrows and Kowalski snorted. “So, she says she’s super fascinated by trains, always has been since she was a little girl. I’m thinkin’ ‘holy shit, here’s my chance’, and I ask her if she wants to see the engine.”

  “Okay, come on, this is just fantasy land now,” Mason cut in, putting his hands up. “It’s cool if you were just laid off due to budget cuts, you don’t need to-”

  “Don’t stop him just when he’s getting to the good part,” Kowalski joked.

  Bill bristled. “I’m tellin’ you the truth, boy,” he said to Mason. “Now do you wanna hear the story or not?”

  Mason motioned for him to continue.

  “So I ask her if she wants to see the engine, and she gets all excited,” Bill continued, “so I’m thinkin’ there’s no way that this is going where I think it’s going, but whatever, pretty lady wants to see my engine. I’ll give her a tour, enjoy the view, and then I’ve made her day and she’s made mine.

  “I help her up into my domain, and give her a tour. She’s so fuckin’ excited, like she wasn’t lyin’ about likin’ trains. I’ve never seen a girl get so juiced over mechanical parts. I’m havin’ a hard time containing myself, if you get my drift.

  “Turns out, that’s totally okay, because she comes on strong, and before long, we’re fuckin’ like rabbits in the train.”

  “Okay, no way,” Mason said. “This is ridiculous.”

  “You asked,” Bill replied with a shrug. “I’m tellin’. If you don’t wanna know-”

  “I want to know,” Kowalski piped up. “What happened? Did you get caught?”

  “Well, not right away.” Bill scratched the back of his head with a laugh. “But when one of the inspectors found a pair of lacy panties hanging off the fuel gage, she flew into a rage and demanded that the company make an example of me.”

  “Damn,” Mason replied. He paused for a moment. “Apocalypse aside, you think it was worth it?”

  “Fuck yeah,” Bill said without missing a beat. “She blew my fuckin’ mind. I’ll never forget the sight of her bent over my console. The only thing that sucks is that I never got her name. She’ll forever just be the blonde that fucked me out of my job.”

  “I’m still calling bullshit.” Mason proclaimed. “They would have just suspended you for that.”

  Bill got a sheepish grin on his face before coming clean. “All right Mason, ya got me. The real reason just isn’t anywhere near as fun.”

  Everyone other than Mason let out a deflated sigh, disappointed that the mental images of sex fueled antics were nothing more than a figment of their imagination.

  “Well, spill it man. What got you let go?” Mason pried.

  “The part about taking the commuter train work was true.” Bill said, attempting to regain his credibility. “On the third run I got a call about an unruly passenger, so we made an unscheduled stop in some pissant town so the asshole could be kicked off. Turns out the asshole was the son of the commuter line owner. Needless to say this didn’t go ver well with him, so asshole complained to his asshole daddy, who complained to my asshole former boss.”

  “Yeah, upon further review you should have just stuck with the lie” Mason deadpanned.

  There was a round of chuckles through the vehicle, and then Kersey slowed down as they approached the bridge.

  “Shit,” Kowalski muttered. The entire thing was packed full of vehicles. There had either been a traffic jam overrun by zombies, forcing everyone to flee, or somebody had blocked off the bridge on purpose. But it looked too haphazard, not planned enough.

  “Should we try to move ‘em, Sarge?” Bretz’ voice came through the radio.

  Kersey pursed his lips in thought. “Let’s have a look.” He turned to the backseat. “Mason, stay here with Bill while we investigate.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mason replied.

  Bretz, Baker and Johnson met Kersey and Kowalski in front of the bridge, taking a good, long look at it in a loaded silence.

  “Well?” Johnson asked. “We could always just plow through ‘em. The SUVs will make quick work of some o’ them hatchbacks.”

  Kersey shook his head. “I don’t want to risk damaging our vehicles and not being able to get to the rail yard,” he replied. “Getting Bill to a train is priority one. If we can’t do it quickly, then we need to do it as safely as possible.”

  “You think we should go back to the 83 bridge, then?” Bretz asked. “What if it’s just as blocked?”

  Kersey sighed. “If that’s the case, then we can work on making a path on this bridge. But I feel that trying to take the path of least resistance might be our best option right now.”

  “Whatever you say, Sarge,” Johnson replied.

  Baker shrugged. “It makes sense. It’s not really that many blocks over, anyway. If we’re going to encounter resistance, I don’t think taking the other bridge will make it that much worse.”

  “Famous last words,” Johnson replied, and clapped him on the back as the headed back to the SUVs.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The 83 bridge had a few cars smashed up here and there, but was fairly clear. Kersey led the convoy carefully across, keeping eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. Not only were there zombies to worry about, but after what he’d seen in La Crosse he couldn’t help but be wary of any survivors lurking about, especially opposing the military.

  Once across, he turned left on an eerily empty street, away from a big box store. They passed a car wash and a few industrial buildings, and then a hospital on the right.

  Kersey fought the urge to stop. Medical supplies were the most important thing next to food. But they wouldn’t even know what they were looking for, and they didn’t have a lay of the land. Not to mention the amount of zombies wandering around in the courtyard, in and out of the busted-in emergency room lobby.

  Shortly past that was a park, and he had to slow down to avoid debris in the road.

  “What the fuck is that?” Mason breathed, looking out the window to his left. There was an adjacent park, but it was absolutely littered with little crimson lumps. It looked like there had been a massacre, but the bodies were too small to be human or zombie.

  Kowalski pointed to a sign up ahead: Waggin’ Tails Bark Park. Bill gagged.

  Mason shook his head. “Maybe it’s stupid to be sad for a bunch of
dogs… but it’s worse they probably died trying to protect their owners.”

  “Who probably fed on them after they turned,” Kowalski muttered, and the imagery made the other passengers shiver.

  “Okay, be ready,” Kersey said as he pulled into a parking lot, avoiding a few burning cars. “I’m going to drive the walking path through those trees and then we’re in the suburbs. This could get ugly.”

  The soldiers checked their weapons, and Bill grasped his handgun tightly. Kersey eased up onto the walking path, the sturdy grass on either side providing traction for the large vehicle. Bretz stayed right up close to his back bumper, knowing they were about to head into a possible war zone.

  What else was new? They were always about to head into a possible war zone.

  When they crested the trees and hit asphalt once again, the soldiers’ eyes widened.

  “Looks like they got hit hard,” Kowalski breathed, surveying the damage. Not one house seemed to be intact, windows and doors blown out. Cars were overturned, some smashed together, some burnt to a crisp. There was new development happening on the right of them, but the wooden framing was busted and all caved-in on itself.

  Kersey took it slow, eyes sweeping the road in front of him, back and forth. A few houses on the left were on fire, and the smoke blew lazily onto the road. Visibility was poor, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as if each follicle were on high alert.

  “Sarge!” Kowalski cried, the first to spot the jagged shadow of a pack of zombies through the smoke.

  Kersey hit the brakes, turning slightly so that Bretz could avoid him if he didn’t stop quickly enough.

  “What’s up, Sarge?” the other driver asked through the radio.

  Kersey clenched his jaw. “We’ve got company,” he said, and opened the sunroof. “Kowalski?”

  The sniper nodded and stood, poking the top half of his body up through the hole, bringing the scope to his eye. There was a short gust of wind, and it blew the smoke clear from the top for just long enough of a moment for him to see just what lay ahead for them.

  “Sarge, it’s a horde up there,” he called down.

  “Fuck,” Kersey muttered. “How many?”

  “I only got a glimpse, but they went over a block up the street, and are covering everything, front lawns, sidewalks, there are a lot,” Kowalski replied.

  “Okay, come back in,” the Sergeant instructed, and lifted his radio to his mouth. “Bretz, we gotta turn around, there’s a horde here that’s too risky to face head on. You take point, take the next side street and then take the next left, we’ll see what we can see.”

  “Ten-four,” Bretz replied, and began a five-point turn to swing around. “Shit, Sarge, there’s a bunch on this side now, too.”

  “How many? They can’t have just amassed out of thin air,” Kersey replied.

  “A fucking sea of them, sir,” Bretz said.

  “We don’t have the bullets to deal with a battle of his magnitude,” the Sergeant mused. “And this neighborhood is in a lot worse shape than the last one we were in. I doubt we’ll be able to forage for weapons here. We need the ammo to sweep the train yard.”

  “But we need to get to the train yard,” Kowalski replied, and as if on cue, the corpses reached the SUV, smacking wet flesh against the fiberglass and windows. The groans echoed in the pungent air, bouncing into them from the sunroof.

  “Let me draw them away,” Mason said, leaning forward from the backseat.

  Kersey shook his head. “What?”

  “I’ll get in the other SUV, they get into this one, and I’ll crank the music and lead them away,” he said.

  Kersey shook his head again. “No, that’s ridiculous. We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Mason jutted out his chin. “Sarge, we don’t have another choice. We can’t just drive over them, because they’ll follow us. We don’t have the ammo to take them all down, and you need to get Bill to the train yard. Two hundred and fifty-thousand troops need those trains.”

  The Sergeant scrubbed his hands down his face. “It should be me,” he muttered.

  “No, you should be heading this mission,” Mason countered. “Let us grunts do the grunt work. When you’re all ready to go, radio me and I’ll leave ‘em in the dust and circle back.”

  “You’d fuckin’ better,” Kowalski said sternly.

  “Bretz, I’m going to need you three to climb over into this vehicle,” Kersey said into the radio.

  A laugh came back. “Sorry, Sarge, I misheard you. It sounded like you said you wanted me, Baker and Johnson to get into your SUV.”

  “That is what I said,” Kersey replied. “Mason is going to take yours and draw the horde away from the train yard.”

  “Alone?” Baker’s voice came through, sounding strained. “I’ll go too.”

  “No, Private, priority is to secure the train yard,” Kersey replied. “Mason can handle himself. Bretz, pull up beside us.”

  Mason slung his rifle over his shoulder and smirked. “Finally, I’ll get to listen to the music I wanna listen to.”

  “Ugh, you’re gonna blast shitty gangsta rap?” Kowalski wrinkled his nose.

  “That,” Mason pointed at his comrade, “is racist.” He stood up, and slid out of the sunroof onto the roof of the SUV.

  “Be safe,” Kersey called, and Mason gave him a salute before clambering over to the top of Bretz’s vehicle.

  Johnson was the first to pop up, shaking his head. “Crazy fuckers, how are we all gonna fit in there?”

  “You could always sit on Bretz’ lap,” Mason replied with a smirk.

  Johnson muttered to himself as he stepped over to the other SUV, lowering himself into the backseat, narrowly missing kicking Kowalski in the head. Baker was a little more graceful, dropping down to sit between the redneck and Bill.

  Bretz paused a moment, reaching out to shake Mason’s hand. “See you later, Private,” he said firmly, and his companion nodded with a smile.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, and then dropped into the driver’s seat.

  By this point, the zombies were going absolutely crazy, so upset that their boxed meals weren’t opening up for them.

  “Guess you’re gettin’ in the trunk,” Johnson bellowed, and Bretz shook his head.

  “Fuck no, I’ll stay up here,” he replied, and dangled his legs into the sunroof, planting his ass firmly between two lengths of roof rack. Kersey cut the engine, turning off the lights, and pulling out the keys so that there was no incessant beeping.

  Mason revved his engine, and a sudden blast of loud death metal exploded into the air. Kowalski laughed and shook his head. His companion gave him the devil-horns through the window, and then squealed the tires, putting the car into gear to start plowing through zombies. He moved slow enough that they could keep up, but drew them back towards the 83.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Baker said quietly, and the mood in the car was somber as the distorted power chords faded away into the distance.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The air in the SUV was thick with trepidation. Bretz eventually ducked inside and closed the sunroof, as it seemed that some of the zombies were too interested in the breathing meal up on top of the vehicle. There was enough leg room that he was able to sit backwards on the center console, facing the three in the backseat.

  “He’ll be fine,” Bretz said quietly, studying Baker’s fearful expression.

  His comrade shook his head. “I know. I mean, there are about a billion things that could go wrong, but he’s tough. As long as we don’t leave without him.”

  “I’m not leaving him behind,” Kersey replied firmly.

  “If anything happens, at least he knows to just follow the train tracks back towards Kansas,” Bill supplied, but Baker just glowered at him.

  “They’re starting to thin out,” Kowalski cut in, in his level tone. Everyone looked outside, and he was right. The zombies were no longer shoulder to shoulder—there was definitely more breathing room.


  It felt like forever for the horde to finally break up into a few stragglers. They didn’t seem to be interested in following their brethren, but it was only a dozen or so.

  “Wish I had ol’ Betsy with me,” Johnson said wistfully, and Bill raised an eyebrow at him.

  Bretz laughed. “You sure seemed to have fun with that spiky truck,” he said, and the redneck nodded emphatically.

  “Okay,” Kersey piped up. “I think we’re on enough of a decline that if I put it in neutral we’ll roll back without making too much noise. Bretz, head back up top and see if you can get a better lay of the land.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, and opened up the sun roof, climbing back up onto the roof rack. The smoke wasn’t as thick anymore, and the few zombies milling about didn’t even seem to notice him. He drew his hunting knife and laid down flat on his belly, holding onto the rack and entwining his feet in the sunroof so that his arm was within headshot distance of the enemies that would be going past.

  Kersey put the shifter into neutral, and eased off the brake. The SUV began to roll backwards, as he’d hoped, and slow enough that it wouldn’t attract too much attention. Bretz grinned as a few zombies thwacked off of the back bumper, staggering and being flattened by the big tires.

  He managed to stab two on the way by in the skull, dropping them in crumpled heaps to the ground. Soon the street was clear, and he flipped over, sitting up so he could look down into the driver’s seat.

  “Clear behind us, Sarge,” he reported. Kersey gently turned the wheel, looking behind him to guide the SUV half-into a driveway before there was no more gravity pulling them backwards. He turned off the headlights and started the engine, and then eased back onto the road, trying not to rev too loud. When it looked like they were in the clear, he sped up a bit and they wound through the rest of the suburb, fingers on the trigger.

  Mason leading the horde away had been a one-time thing. If they encountered anything to that magnitude again, they’d be in a shitload more trouble.