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

by Derek Slaton

  He swung wildly with his knife, trying to dislodge the arms stuck in the door, and Bretz ran up to join him, kicking the limbs back inside as best he could. Finally, the door latched, and they backed up, breathing hard.

  “All good, Sarge?” Bretz asked.

  Kersey nodded jerkily, and reached into his pocket for the keys. “Yep.” They ran back over to the truck, and Kersey got in. The third set was the charm, and the vehicle roared to life. “So much for being quiet,” he said. “Okay, I’ll take this back to the train and get fueled up, you take the SUV and go pick up Kowalski.”

  “Ten-four,” Bretz said, and headed off to the SUV, lifting his radio to his mouth to instruct Kowalski to be ready.

  Just as he put his foot inside to get into the driver’s seat, gunshots echoed through the still air.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kersey pulled up next to Bretz as he raised his radio.

  “What’s going on over there?” he asked.

  “Looks like a bunch of them just came out of nowhere!” Kowalski replied. “They’re just popping out between the trains, Johnson and Baker are backing up towards the engine car.”

  “Can he hit any?” Kersey asked.

  Bretz nodded. “Can you shoot any from where you are?” he asked.

  “A few, but it’s tight and I’d be worried about ricochets,” Kowalski replied.

  “Negative,” Kersey said immediately, and Bretz nodded again.

  “Sarge says hold your fire,” he instructed. “I’m coming to pick you up now, meet me outside.”

  “Ten-four,” Kowalski replied.

  Kersey nodded to Bretz. “See you over there,” he said, and revved up to bustle up the maintenance road. Bretz quickly hopped in the SUV and tore after him, kicking up dust as he turned to the right to go and pick up their sniper.

  Bill clutched the radio as he heard gunshots from outside, and looked through the windows. He couldn’t see anything on the front side.

  “What’s happening out there?” he asked.

  “Stay inside,” Johnson came back, and then clicked off at the sound of more gunshots.

  “Shouldn’t you guys come in here?” Bill asked, but there was no answer. Kersey had told him not to open the door or go outside, but if it would save his men, then shouldn’t he do it?

  “Don’t even think about openin’ that fuckin’ door,” Johnson came back, as if he could read his mind.

  Bill clenched his jaw. His eyes widened at the sight of a pack of zombies coming into view around the left side of the train, and leaned over the console to stare, openmouthed, at the heads of the dead.

  “They’re coming around the other side!” he cried into the radio, but there was no reply.

  Kersey screamed around the line of trains, pulling up just at the corner of the last train before theirs. He wanted to be close enough to fire, but not so close that an errant bullet could hit the tank on the back.

  He opened the driver’s side window and snaked out of it, sitting on the sill and flipping his rifle off of his back. Zombies swarmed the engine car, smacking the sides, and he drew his eyes up to see Johnson and Baker standing up top, the redneck hooting as he fired down at the hungry horde.

  “We got this, Sarge!” Johnson cried, and fired down, dropping bodies left and right. Baker stood over the other side, taking care of the zombies over there, and Kersey shook his head, lifting his rifle to take out the ones at the front, careful not to hit the train itself.

  Bill gripped his gun tightly, unable to see any action outside. He could see Sergeant Kersey hanging out of a fuel truck off to the side, but couldn’t see what his shots were producing out front.

  “Fuck it.” He shook his head. He had to finish his checks. That was his mission. It wasn’t his job to protect the soldiers, it was the other way around. And if by some horrible fate, they all died out there, at least he could get the train out of the city and try to get in touch with somebody.

  He turned away from the front window and moved back to the engine, pulling a clipboard from the wall and running through the last few gauges.

  A few minutes later, the gunfire stopped. Bill paused, and then hung the clipboard back up, walking slowly to the front of the train. He couldn’t see much through the front window, and he paused by the door.

  His radio crackled. “You can open the door now, Bill,” Johnson’s voice came through, and the conductor’s heart began to beat again.

  He unbarred the door and opened it, nearly gagging on the stench of rotten flesh that hit him in the face. There was a sea of bodies around the train, a few feet deep, and the soldiers stood on the other side, guns in hand.

  “You assholes are badass,” he breathed, and Johnson smirked.

  Kersey nodded. “How’s it going in there?” he asked.

  “Ready to go when we’re fueled up,” Bill replied, trying to stifle the shaking of his hands.

  “Just show us where it goes,” Baker prompted, and he and Johnson wandered off to grab the hose from the fuel truck. Bill walked down the steps, adrenaline leaving a heavy exhaustion on his joints, and gingerly stepped on the pile of corpses at the bottom.

  Kersey reached out to steady him and helped him jump down to the ground. “You’re pretty good at following orders,” he commended. “Thanks for staying inside.”

  “I wasn’t about to come out into… this,” Bill replied, waving his arms at the bodies. “I figured I’d be more of a liability than a help.” He peered around the front of the train. “We’ll have to clear those if we want a smooth takeoff.”

  Kersey nodded, and Kowalski and Bretz set to moving bodies out of the way. The Sergeant stayed beside Bill as he led Baker and Johnson to the fuel hookup.

  “Keep alert, soldiers,” the Sergeant declared. “We might have attracted a lot of attention with that shootout.”

  “Bring ‘em on,” Johnson said with a sneer.

  Baker shook his head. “Fuck off,” he scolded, but there wasn’t any venom in his voice.

  Kersey lifted his radio to his mouth. “Mason, come back,” he said.

  The air between the group seemed to go dead still while they waited for an answer. And answer that didn’t come.

  “Private Mason, do you copy?” Kersey repeated.

  Nothing.

  “Fuck,” Baker snapped, stepping back from the train with his fists clenched.

  “He might just be out of range,” Bill said gently.

  Baker glared daggers at him, and the conductor put his hands up, turning back to the fuel line. When it finished, he unhooked it and Johnson pulled it back out of the way.

  “Shotgun,” he said brightly, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but a somber heaviness had fallen over the group. Kowalski and Bretz waited by the door, frowning.

  “We’ll try again when we’re headed back past town,” Kersey assured them. Bretz nodded and waved for Bill to step inside first. Johnson followed, and then Kowalski. Kersey turned to Baker, who was firmly standing away from the door.

  “We can’t leave him,” he said.

  Kersey shook his head. “We’re not,” he replied. “When we get back towards town, I’ll keep trying him.”

  “But you won’t wait if he doesn’t reply,” Baker shot back.

  The Sergeant took a deep breath. “No, we can’t wait if he doesn’t reply,” he said. “We can’t. If he’s not replying that means he’s dead, Private, and we can’t compromise a mission for one man. Even Mason.”

  Baker stared at him helplessly. “I’ll just take the SUV, and-”

  “No, Private,” Kersey said firmly. “If you drive alone into that city, you’re not going to rescue anybody, you’re going to die. Get on the train. That’s an order.”

  Baker growled, but he knew he was beaten, and he stomped up the stairs. Bretz clapped Kersey’s shoulder in understanding and walked up after him. The Sergeant closed and barred the door behind him.

  “So what if there’s zombies on the tracks while we’re goin’?” Johnso
n asked.

  Bill got comfy in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, his heart soaring at the sound of the train rumbling to life with no problems. “Oh, we’ll be fine once we’re movin’,” he said. “That grill on the front of the train is called a cowcatcher. It’s made to knock shit out of the way so we don’t get derailed.”

  Johnson let out a low whistle. “Well, if it can catch cows…”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kersey pulled out his satellite phone, dialing up General Stephens.

  “Stephens,” the General greeted immediately.

  “Hello, General,” Kersey replied. “We’ve secured a train, and heading out to clear a path for you guys.”

  “Great news!” Stephens replied. “How did it go?”

  “Never smoothly,” the Sergeant admitted. “But we got what we needed. Managed to fuel up enough to get us back to you, hopefully the refuel stations on the way are working so we don’t run into any complications.”

  “Excellent,” Stephens replied. “I have a team working on mapping out routes to get everyone northwest, should the order come down.”

  “Hopefully that’s sooner rather than later. The locals really don’t like us.” Kersey replied.

  Baker lifted his radio to his mouth. “Mason, come in,” he said, peering out the window at the city as they passed through it.

  Zombies drawn to the noise emerged from the streets, between buildings and cars. Some of them stuck against the railings, others, like lemmings, fell down to the gravel below lining the train tracks.

  “Mason, come in, fuck, come on,” Baker tried again.

  “Problem, Sergeant?” Stephens asked.

  Kersey sighed. “Mason drove into the city by himself to draw a horde off of us so we could complete the mission. We haven’t been able to get back in contact with him.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Stephens replied. “Keep trying, John. But don’t forget what he sacrificed himself for.”

  Kersey nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  “Keep me posted,” the General said. “Talk soon.”

  “Ten-four,” the Sergeant replied, and ended the call.

  “Mason!” Baker yelled into his radio. They were two-thirds of the way through the city, and his heart sank into his shoes. “Fuck.”

  “He knew what he was doing,” Kowalski said quietly.

  Baker shook his head. “I know that,” he huffed and swept back past them be alone at the back of the car.

  “Is the General happy?” Bretz asked.

  Kersey nodded. “You bet.”

  “Almost through town,” Bill called back over his shoulder. “You want me to stop and wait?”

  Kersey took a deep breath. “No. We haven’t heard back from him, it’s unlikely we will.”

  Bill nodded and the train flew out of North Platte, leaving behind zombies staggering around on the hot tracks. As the Lincoln Highway swerved in to run parallel to the tracks, movement caught Johnson’s eye and he did a double take.

  “Is that a car?” he asked.

  Kowalski leaned forward to look. “Is that an SUV?”

  “Hey there, Sarge,” Mason’s voice came through the radio, his death metal still going in the background. “Leaving without me?”

  Baker tore to his feet from the back of the car. “What the fuck?”

  “Mason, where the hell have you been?” Kersey said into his radio. “We tried to reach you.”

  “I couldn’t circle back, so I zig-zagged around town and decided to speed out this way to lose the horde,” Mason explained. “I figured I would see you since the highway follows the tracks.”

  “Sonuvabitch,” Johnson said with a laugh.

  Baker smacked Bill on the shoulder. “Stop the train!”

  “I’m slowin’ down, keep your panties on,” Bill replied good-naturedly. “Can’t just slam on the brakes on these puppies.”

  “We’re going to stop,” Kersey said into his radio. “Get ready to pull over.”

  “Ten-four,” Mason replied.

  As soon as the train came to a stop, Baker unbarred the door. Mason pulled over and jogged down the grass ditch between them, hauling himself back up the other side.

  “You fucker, we thought you were dead!” Baker cried.

  Mason smirked. “That sounds like a personal problem,” he retorted, and his companion smacked his shoulder as he came up the stairs. “I’m starving,” he announced. “Anyone got any Cheetos?”

  END

  PORTLAND

  DEAD AMERICA: THE FIRST WEEK BOOK SEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +6

  “Smells good,” Zion said as he entered the kitchen of the small apartment he shared with his sister, Monique.

  She grinned. “Eggs and potatoes, just like momma used to make.”

  Her brother pulled up a stool and sat on it, his linebacker build looking almost comical on such a small seat at the island counter. Monique couldn’t help but chuckle at him as he audibly moaned while shoveling potatoes into his mouth. She was five years older, and even in their twenties it was hard not to see the little boy he used to be.

  She filled her own plate and faced him, standing at the island to eat her own breakfast. “I hope momma’s doing okay,” she said quietly, pushing her eggs around with a fork.

  Zion stopped shoveling and reached out to grasp her hand. “Mo, you know she’s fine. Ty is taking care of Compton, there’s no way he isn’t. It’s probably locked down tighter than a drum with our old gang holding the fort.”

  “Yeah.” She pursed her lips. “I just can’t help but feel like we should be there, with her. If we hadn’t left…”

  “If we hadn’t left, then she’d have been mighty disappointed in me,” Zion cut in. “Escaping the gang life was best for both of us, and you know that. Momma knew it, and that’s why she wanted me to take you away from Los Angeles.”

  “I know,” Monique replied with a sigh. “It’s just… if I’d have known the apocalypse was going to happen, I maybe would have stayed. Or brought her with us. It would have been nicer to be together.”

  “Nobody could have predicted this,” Zion said with a shake of his head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  Monique took a bite of her potatoes and decided to change the subject. “How’d everything go out there last night?”

  “It was quiet,” her brother replied with a shrug. “Few stragglers here and there, but this place is secluded enough that we don’t get many zombies out here as long as we don’t make too much noise.”

  “I guess it’s a blessing that the city lost funding for this area,” his sister replied thoughtfully. “I mean, it was nice that the place was so cheap, but it was going to be nice to have shops and stuff being built around here. I remember feeling like it was really too bad that we didn’t move into the city instead of this apartment building in the middle of the woods.”

  “Definitely better we ended up here,” Zion agreed. “If we’d have been in the city that would have been a whole different ball game during the outbreak.”

  “Yeah.” Monique nodded.

  There was a light knock on the door, and Zion put up a hand to his sister before walking over to answer it.

  “Hey, Z,” Calvin greeted, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. He was a wiry little guy, the same age as Zion but probably a third of his weight. “I’m workin’ on a new project, and I could use your help.”

  “I’m not interested in your projects,” Zion replied, though not unkindly. “There’s more to our survival right now then your weed plants. Plus we’re going on a run this morning, in case you forgot?”

  “That’s the thing, I got rid of the weed plants,” Calvin replied, putting up his hands. “The maintenance closet was full of all kinds of vegetable seeds, I guess the original plan for this place was to grow food as foliage in one of the courtyard gardens. I figured if we change my grow-op into an indoor farm, we’ll be set for fresh food.”

  Monique
nodded her approval from behind Zion, who stared in shock at the stoner.

  “My apartment is pretty much just a giant greenhouse now,” Calvin continued. “Brent said that we can grab more lights on our outing today so I can start retrofitting other apartments.”

  “That’s…” Zion shook his head. “That’s great.” He turned to Monique, and pulled her into a hug, planting an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Be careful,” she replied, worry knitting her brows.

  He smiled. “Always.” He left the apartment and closed the door behind him.

  “Dude, your sister is so gorgeous,” Calvin groaned as they wandered towards the stairwell, and then clapped his hands over his mouth, fear widening his eyes as if he hadn’t meant to say it.

  Zion just laughed. “Man, she would chew you up and spit you out again,” he assured him. “Keep that in mind if you ever get the bright idea to say that to her face.”

  “I thought I was going to die just there,” Calvin admitted.

  “Again,” Zion said, an amused smirk on his face. “Keep that feeling in mind if you ever decide to hit on my sister. I don’t need to threaten you. She could kill you with her bare hands.”

  Calvin gulped. “Is it bad that makes her even hotter?”

  “Ugh.” The bigger man rolled his eyes. “You white boys are suckers for punishment.” He shook his head. “What’s the mission today, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject as they descended the stairs.

  “We’re heading to that strip mall just off the interstate, about ten miles away to the north,” Calvin explained. “Just a regular supply run, but also for lights for more farming.”

  “Would have been nice to sleep in after my night shift,” Zion muttered.

  His companion shrugged. “There’s just not enough people fit to fight. You’d think there would be in a building that can house seventy people, but I guess years of office jobs have made ‘em weak over time.”