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

by Derek Slaton

“Sir, the President is ready for you in the War Room,” a female voice came through.

  “Thank you, Vicky,” John replied. “Please inform him that we’re on our way.”

  “Yes, sir,” came the reply, and then a click.

  The two men stood up from their desk, gathering up a few of the documents that they knew they would need to show.

  “Whitney, I’d like you to join us in the War Room for the meeting,” Adams said, and she blinked at him in surprise.

  “I’m more than happy to assist you General, but everything I know is in these reports,” she explained. “I’m not sure how much help I would be.”

  “Ma’am, the General and I are both a bit past our prime,” John said with a chuckle. “Frankly, we could use a set of young eyes that can throw out information quickly. We’ve read the reports, but you’ve been living and breathing this for a solid week. You would be a great asset to us in there.”

  The redhead nodded. “Just let me tell my team what I need them to focus on next, and I’ll be in there.”

  “Thank you, Whitney,” Adams said sincerely, and the woman left briskly.

  John sighed as the duo began the walk to the War Room. “Let’s hope the President is in a good mood today, because I don’t think we have a single bit of positive news to deliver to him.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  General Adams and John entered the War Room, which was empty save for President Williams at the head of the table. His presence seemed to fill the room, despite the fact that he looked like he’d aged a thousand years in the span of a week.

  “General, John, thank you for coming,” Williams greeted them, motioning to spots to his right. “Please take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  “Mister President,” Adams said. “I’ve asked my top research assistant, Whitney Hill, to join us for this meeting.”

  Williams’ brow furrowed. “Do you not have all the information?” He eyed the documents the men set down on the table.

  “Yes sir, but she knows it better than anyone in the building,” the General assured him. “She’ll make sure we don’t miss anything.”

  The President sighed, but nodded. “Very well.”

  Vicky poked her head into the room. “Mister President, General. Would anybody like some coffee?”

  “Gentlemen?” Williams asked.

  John raised his hand. “Yes, I would love some, please.”

  “I could use a cup as well,” Adams added.

  “Vicky, go ahead and make a full pot and bring four cups, please,” the President instructed.

  “Yes, Mister President,” she nodded and left, nearly knocking into Whitney as the redhead headed in.

  “Apologies for the wait,” she gushed.

  “It’s perfectly all right, Miss Hill,” Williams assured her, and motioned to the seat on his left. “Please take a seat, and we can get started.”

  She sat across from John, and laid out several reports on the large conference table in front of her.

  “All right,” Williams said. “Let’s have it. What’s the situation looking like?”

  The trio looked at each other, and John finally shrugged his shoulders.

  “There is no good way to put this, so I’m just going to throw it out there,” he declared. “The world as we knew it is no more. The virus has spread worldwide. As best as we can tell, every country on earth has been affected.”

  The President nodded gravely. “How are our allies holding up?”

  “Western Europe was hit almost as hard as we were, since several infected flights from New York and Atlanta landed there shortly after the outbreak,” Adams said. “Given their near complete lack of warning, they were overwhelmed before they knew what hit them. South America was also hit especially hard since they not only had no warning, they didn’t have the sophisticated communication systems to alert their populations.” He flipped through a few pages of his notes. “My apologies, Mister President,” he huffed as he dug through his reports, finally sighing and motioning across the table. “Whitney, would you be so kind as to cover the Far East?”

  “My pleasure General,” she replied. “Mister President, Asia has fared a little better with the plague since they had roughly a day’s warning before it struck. Granted that’s a low bar considering the devastation most nations have faced. Out of all of the countries, China was hit the hardest, with an estimated billion dead already. Most of the Asian nations, China included, were able to set up protective shelters for their best and brightest.”

  “And let’s be honest,” John piped up, “those with the best connections.”

  “Very true,” Whitney replied with a nod. “However, there is a bit of concerning news regarding South Korea. Not wanting to waste an opening, North Korea pushed across the border a few days ago. We don’t know how successful they were, as communication lines with the Korean Peninsula went down shortly thereafter.”

  Williams furrowed his brow. “What about our troops stationed there?” He pursed his lips.

  “They were successfully evacuated to sea and are on course for home,” Whitney assured him. “As are most of our troops worldwide.”

  The President took a deep breath, folding his hands in front of him. “It pains me to know that I’m the President that oversaw the complete and total withdraw of America from the world stage,” he said. “However, I do take some comfort in knowing that if we aren’t successful in the coming weeks, nobody is going to be around to be angry with me.”

  There were some light chuckles around the table despite the morbidity of the joke.

  “Thank you for the update, Miss Hill,” Williams said. “Now what can you-”

  Vicky knocked at the door and poked her head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mister President,” she said, struggling with her serving tray.

  John leapt from his seat and held the door for her. “Nonsense!” he declared. “You are providing us with the elixir of life. You can interrupt us anytime you like provided that pot is full.”

  She smiled at him, relieved nobody was angry with her. “If you need anything else, please let me know, I’ll be right outside.” She set the tray down on the table.

  “Thank you, Vicky,” Williams said, and she nodded before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her.

  There was a quiet moment of contentment as everyone poured their coffee, taking a few long sips before focusing back on their task.

  “Okay,” Williams finally said, setting his mug in front of him. “Where were we? Oh, yes, the home front. How bad are things here?”

  “Generally speaking, the larger the city, the harder it got hit,” John explained. “Cities with international airports were the worst. Obviously the Texas big four cities were decimated as they were closest to Ground Zero. Austin and San Antonio are nearly a complete loss, partially because of the bombing runs we did in an attempt to distract the news media and buy us precious hours to enact our plan. Which is going surprisingly well, I might add-”

  “Forgive the interruption John,” Williams cut in and put up a hand. “But I’d like to hear more about how hard we were hit before moving on to how we’re fighting back.”

  “Of course, Mister President,” John replied, flipping through his notes. “Cities like New York, Boston, LA, Atlanta, and Chicago are near total losses. The streets were flooded with zombies before anybody knew what was happening. Those who weren’t infected or killed are trapped in their buildings without any hope of escape or rescue. Our best guess is ninety-eight percent dead in those cities, and will be close to one hundred percent within a few weeks.”

  Williams nodded grimly. “What about overall numbers?”

  The two men began to dig through their papers.

  The President turned to Whitney. “Miss Hill, why don’t you field this one?”

  “Of course, Mister President,” she replied, turning one page of one of her reports. “Conservatively, we’re putting the number of dead at eighty-five percent, but more than likely it’s prob
ably at ninety percent. Unless drastic measures are taken in the next day or two, our projections have ninety-eight percent of the population dead by the end of the month.’

  “Mother of god,” Williams balked, all of the color draining from his face. “Why so high?”

  “A wide variety of factors,” she replied. “Aside from the obvious zombie attacks, there is a dwindling food supply which will not only cause starvation, but prompt violence as groups of desperate people fight for the scraps that remain. We’re also well into flu season, and without easy access to medication, it won’t take much for it to decimate a group of survivors.”

  The President shook his head, chewing his lower lip for a moment, contemplating the near total destruction of his country.

  He finally sighed. “Does anybody have any good news?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. “General? How is your stadium plan going?”

  “We were able to secure approximately twenty-seven thousand key personnel at eighteen stadium fortresses throughout the country,” Adams said. “We have everything from engineers to scientists to gunsmiths. Everything we need to mount a proper war effort when the time comes.”

  “And these stadiums are secure and well stocked?” Williams asked.

  Adams nodded. “That’s correct. They are locked down and have enough basic supplies to keep them afloat until their greenhouses begin bearing fruit.”

  The President raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I’m bad at math, but if ten to fifteen percent of the country is still alive, then where are they all at? If we only have thirty some-odd thousand in our fortresses, and a few hundred thousand troops, that leaves about thirty million people unaccounted for.”

  “Small towns have proven to be very resilient,” John explained. “Not only are they statistically prone to be armed to the teeth, but their isolation from large populations have allowed them to turn their entire towns into fortified outposts.”

  “While we haven’t been actively looking for them on satellite, we have discovered the existence of a few hundred of these communities,” Whitney added. “In all likelihood, there could be thousands of them.”

  “That is fantastic news!” Williams exclaimed. “Small town America is what put me in the White House, and knowing they are still alive and kicking will certainly give a great boost to my re-election campaign.” He barked a laugh and the others followed suit, happy to have the tension broken, if only for a moment. “So, how can we help them out?” he asked.

  “Well, Mister President, right now, we have a quarter of a million troops sitting in rural Kansas,” Adams said. “A lot of this year’s harvest has yet to be shipped out, so there is a plethora of food. If we spare a couple thousand men, we could get them running convoys to these communities.”

  “That is an amazing idea, General,” Williams said. “I want to make this our top priority. Use any means necessary.”

  John took a quick breath. “With all due respect Mister President, before we do anything else, we need to figure out what to do with the military.”

  “Why do we have to do anything with them?” Williams asked. “You all just told me that rural communities are flourishing and are relatively safe. And they’ve got to be extra safe with the greatest military in the world there.” He waved his hand in a dramatic arc. “General, just have them set up a perimeter and protect Kansas. Turn it into the Heartland Safe Zone, it will be a beacon of hope that radiates throughout the land.”

  John and Whitney glanced at each other with drawn expressions.

  “Sure,” John said gently, “we could do that, assuming the goal is to turn Kansas into the largest all-you-can-eat zombie buffet in the world.”

  William’s glared at him. “I don’t appreciate the attitude, John.”

  “Well, sometimes a little attitude is necessary to get the point across,” his confidant shot back.

  Williams folded his hands in front of him. “Very well. State your case.”

  “Well, for starters,” John said, “they’re surrounded.”

  “They’re in the middle of nowhere!” the President cried. “Have you ever driven through Kansas? It’s like god was creating a civilization for the ages, but ran out of building material after Wichita.”

  “Yes, I’ve driven through Kansas, Mister President,” John replied gently. “I’ve also looked at a map and can see that there are eight major cities within a couple hundred miles of where our troops are. There are already reports coming in that tens of thousands of zombies are finding their way out of Kansas City and Oklahoma City.”

  “Just yesterday there was a major conflict outside of Oklahoma City,” Adams piped up. “Took forty thousand troops the better part of a day to stem the tide. And that was only a fraction of the zombie population in the city.”

  “And that’s just one city,” John continued. “Imagine if Dallas, or Chicago, or Denver empty out and head towards the troops? Hell, imagine if all of them do? General, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing that our fighting men and women don’t have enough bullets to handle that kind of horde?”

  “Are there enough raw bullets?” Adams shrugged. “Perhaps. Is there enough manpower to handle multiple fronts with that level of zombie power? Absolutely not.”

  Williams sat back and sighed. “Okay, so the Heartland isn’t the answer. Where should they go?”

  “Texas is out, that’s for damn sure,” John replied.

  Adams nodded. “We’re going to need a place that has farmland.”

  “And oil,” Whitney added.

  “And that is geographically isolated,” John said.

  Adams leaned forward. “And as limited in population as possible.”

  “Well, that eliminates the entirety of the east coast,” Whitney said.

  “What about Florida?” Williams piped up. “Surrounded by water on three sides. They’d only have to defend the northern part of the state.”

  “That’s a great plan,” the redhead retorted, “until a hurricane comes.”

  The General raised a hand to soften the blow of the President’s idea shot down so brutally. “What about Arizona and Nevada? Limited population, access to some West Texas oil fields. Farmland may be an issue, but plenty of sun for greenhouses.”

  “Plus, who doesn’t like Vegas?” Williams rolled his eyes.

  “Too much of a risk of California emptying out and overrunning us.” John shook his head. “I mean, unless you want to pull a Lex Luthor and nuke the San Andreas Fault Line.”

  The President raised his hands. “If you could possibly come up with a solution that doesn’t involve me becoming a super-villain, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  “Oh, come on, Mister President, you’d look great bald.” John grinned.

  Williams ran a hand through his hair. “Might become a necessity when we run out of shampoo.”

  The men shared a laugh when Whitney shoved a map into the center of the table.

  “Seattle,” she said.

  There was an awkward silence before the President leaned forward and asked, “Come again?”

  “The answer is Seattle,” she repeated. “It’s more or less geographically isolated, with the Rockies on the east and the ocean on the west. Portland is a couple hours to the south, but with only one real path to get there. Vancouver is a bit of a concern since we wouldn’t want to get into a two-front war, but we could utilize our air superiority and take out the bridges in the city.”

  Williams blinked at her. “You want me to authorize a military strike on a foreign land?”

  “They’re Canada, what are they going to do?” Whitney shrugged. “Hell, they’ll probably apologize to us for being an inconvenience.” There was a chuckle, but she didn’t even crack a smile as she leaned over the map, pointing. “There’s access to oil, farmland, and we’ll have a port so our troops coming back from Asia will have a place to land.”

  The men sobered up and glanced at each other, nodding their heads.

  “Well done Whitn
ey,” John said. “I believe you may have picked the invasion point.”

  “I commend your research, Miss Hill,” Williams added. “Do you happen to have any thoughts on how to move a quarter million troops from Kansas to the Pacific Northwest?”

  She bit her lip. “Still working on that one, Sir.”

  “This might be a good time to get General Stephens on the phone,” Adams piped up. “He’s in charge of the troops down there.”

  Williams leaned forward and pushed a button on the conference phone. “Vicky?” he asked.

  “Yes, Mister President?” she replied immediately.

  “Can you get General Stephens on the line for us?” the President asked. “He’s heading up our troops in Kansas.”

  “Yes sir,” Vicky replied. “I’ll call when I have him on the line.”

  “Thank you,” Williams said. “Looks like we have time for another cup of coffee.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The quartet studied various reports, enjoying a second cup of hot brew that soothed them to their bones. They couldn’t help but ride the high of having something to plan for, something versatile and productive to do despite the situation of the world falling apart around them.

  The phone beeped and Williams tapped it.

  “Mister President, I have General Stephens on the line for you,” Vicky said.

  The President nodded. “Thank you,” he said. There was a click, and he cleared his throat. “General Stephens, this is President Williams.”

  “Sir,” Stephens replied.

  “I also have General Adams, top advisor John Teeter, and top researcher Whitney Hill,” the President added.

  “Gentlemen. Ma’am,” Stephens said.

  Williams set down his mug of coffee. “General, can you please give us an update on the ground there?”

  “Certainly, sir,” Stephens replied cordially. “The last twelve hours or so have been trying. A horde of nearly fifty thousand strong started migrating out of Oklahoma City, and another one about half that size has started coming out of Kansas City. We were able to move the necessary men around to stem the tide and both fronts are now pacified.”