Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 5 | Dead America-Seattle [Part 3] Read online

  DEAD AMERICA - THE NORTHWEST INVASION

  BOOK 5

  SEATTLE - PART 3

  BY DEREK SLATON

  © 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +23

  David walked across the crowded airport, still teeming with life despite the nearly five AM time. The planes from the Mercer Island mission had landed and were being refueled and checked in a few of the hangars.

  He stopped on the runway as a large group of heavily armed soldiers walked across, pausing to give them space. Most of the men looked barely awake, still rubbing their eyes as they matched towards the commuter buses.

  There were hundreds of soldiers dropping their gear by the side of the bus, stretching and taking a seat on the ground. David shook his head, worrying about what those men were heading in to, and how many more were on the way to join them.

  Best trained military in the world. But they’re really up against it this time, he thought bitterly. If I’m going to have faith in anyone to pull this off, it’s them.

  The last few soldiers in the formation passed, looking over at him with curious eyes. It was a strange sight to see a civilian in shorts and a t-shirt carrying mugs of coffee casually int he middle of a military zone. He nodded politely, prompting friendly nods in return. He couldn’t expect all of the general soldier base to know who he was, considering most of his work with Captain Kersey was behind the scenes.

  He headed for the small office at the base of the control tower. He checked his watch, reading 4:58 A.M. He sighed, knowing he was early. He didn’t want to bother the Captain even a second earlier than he was supposed to, making sure he got the proper recharge time he needed.

  He turned around and continued surveying the sights for a little bit, sipping at his fresh coffee. He checked his watch again, and when it clicked over to 5:00, he carefully transferred both mugs into one hand, juggling them to open the door.

  The office was dark, with only stray rays of spotlights from the hangar piercing through the cracks in the blinds. He set the mugs down on a desk and gripped the pull cord on the blinds, opening them up fully, flooding the room with light.

  He looked around, brow furrowed with confusion, not seeing anyone around. “Captain Kersey?” he called. “It’s David.”

  A groan sounded from behind the desk, and the sound of cracking bones and shuffling.

  “It’s five A.M. and I have your coffee,” David declared, “like you requested.”

  More groaning and a hand emerged from behind the desk, fingers curling over the wood to haul up the rest of its body. Captain Kersey peeled himself off of the floor and immediately flopped into his desk chair, rubbing his forehead.

  “Five A.M. already?” he asked hoarsely.

  David nodded and picked up the two mugs, approaching the desk. “Afraid so,” he replied. “But I did bring you coffee.” He wiggled the mug back and forth a little, the hot brew sloshing around inside.

  Kersey reached out without even opening his eyes, and when the porcelain pressed against his palm, he took it and downed half the mug in a single gulp.

  David blinked at him. “Be careful, it’s fresh,” he said, even though it was too late. “Might be hot.”

  “Nothing enhances caffeine like second-degree burns,” Kersey replied, finally peeling his eyes open and even managing a small smile.

  David cocked his head. “Are you sure you got enough rest?” he asked. “I can keep things rolling. I’m used to being up at this hour anyway.”

  “Nah, I got my thirty minutes of beauty sleep,” the Captain assured him, shaking his head. “I’m good for the day.”

  His comm expert raised an eyebrow. “Talk about burning the candle at both ends,” he said dryly.

  “Forget that,” Kersey replied, rubbing his cheek. “I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve just chucked that whole motherfucker right into the fire.”

  David chuckled as he watched Kersey down the rest of his coffee in a single Gulp and set the cup on the table.

  “So, what’s the status?” the Captain asked.

  David took a slurp of his own brew, “The Mercer Island planes have returned and are getting prepped for when we need them next,” he replied.

  “Any word from the Mercer Island team?” Kersey asked.

  His companion shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, “but I really wasn’t expecting to by this point. The first boats aren’t scheduled to hit the island for another couple of hours. If they haven’t made contact by then, I’ll start reaching out.”

  “Good,” Kersey replied with a nod, and swiveled in his chair towards the window. “So, how are we looking outside?”

  David pulled a rolled up stack of papers from the side pocket of his pants. “The attack force for…” he paused to check over his notes, “the Redmond suburb on the far east side of things are gearing up. Buses looked primed and ready to go, so it isn’t going to be long before they head out.”

  “Were you able to locate the people Corporal Bretz needed?” Kersey asked, taking another long sip of coffee.

  His companion nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t easy.”

  “What is these days?” The Captain sighed.

  “I was able to find three Privates, Hess, Short, and Kent,” David explained. “All three have seen combat either in Spokane or the last week as we moved up here. And all three have truck driving experience.”

  Kersey nodded. “That’s…” he paused, stifling a huge yawn and shaking his head to fight it off. “That’s fantastic work.”

  “Captain,” David said slowly, lowering his papers, “I know all the details of the mission for Bretz and his team. I would be more than happy to present it while you find your legs there.”

  Kersey stared down into the empty bottom of his mug and shook his head. “Yeah, let’s find a refill and then go talk to him.”

  “Don’t worry,” his friend replied with a smirk, “I got the pot hidden.”

  The Captain laughed and wagged a finger at him. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Corporal Bretz, Private Mason, and Private Baker fiddled with their gear as their three new team members approached.

  Private Kent straightened, reaching them first. “Are you Corporal Bretz?” he asked.

  The Corporal didn’t look up from his gear. “Yep,” he replied flatly as he packed up several days worth of MREs.

  The three newcomers shared nervous glances as they set their stuff down, taken aback by the lack of acknowledgment.

  “Oh, well,” Kent replied, running a hand over his bald head, “I’m Private Kent. This is Private Short, and Private Hess. We were told to report to you by some assistant to Captain Kersey.”

  Bretz and his duo finally looked up, assessing the three soldiers that were easily in their early twenties.

  “I wasn’t aware we were babysitting on this mission,” Baker said dryly.

  Kent’s gaze darkened. “Hey now, we’ve seen action just like you boys have,” he snapped. “So drop the fucking attitude, will you?”

  Baker clenched a fist and pointed a finger at the kid, “Now you listen here-”

  Bretz put a hand out, smacking his palm into his subordinate’s chest. “I think what my friend here is saying,” he drawled, “is that he would feel a whole lot more comfortable knowing what kind of experience you have, since you’ll be watching his back and all.”

  Short stepped forward, patting Kent’s shoulder to try to defuse him. “I did a tour in the sandbox,” he said.

  Baker blinked, h
is annoyance melting away. “Wow,” he replied. “A whole tour?”

  “Yeah, as a transport driver,” Short explained. “I’d be willing to bet I saw more IEDs go off in that one tour than you saw in however many you were there for. And if that’s not a good enough resume for you, I was on one of the decoy teams in Spokane, and I somehow walked away from Kansas City as well.”

  Hess crossed his arms, voice level. “Two tours as a transport driver,” he began, “line fire team in Spokane, emergency rescue team in Kansas City.”

  “Transport driver for a tour,” Kent said, raising his chin with a sneer, “wasn’t in K.C. but I was a part of the initial clear teams for the surrounding cities. Line fire team in Spokane.”

  Short spread his arms. “Let’s put it this way,” he said, motioning to his companions, “if these were normals times, the military would have moved all three of us up the ranks a notch or two for our experience. But given how everything is fly by the seat of your pants insane at the moment, promotions have kind of taken a back seat to merely surviving the day.”

  “So are we good enough for you?” Kent demanded. “Or should we go report to the grunt line?”

  Mason and Bretz glanced at Baker, and he chuckled and nodded.

  “Yeah, good enough for me,” he said, and stepped forward to shake hands with the youngsters. “I’m Baker, that’s Mason, and of course, that’s Corporal Bretz, who will be leading us through his particular suicide mission.”

  Mason groaned. “I really wish you’d stop calling these suicide missions,” he protested. “If they were really suicide missions, we would have died a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Not my fault I’m stubborn,” Baker shot back.

  Mason scratched the back of his head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it is.”

  The group shared a laugh as they continued to organize their gear. There was a large pile of MREs on the floor, along with ammo and other various items.

  “Make sure you pack up plenty of rations,” Bretz instructed, “because if we pull this off, we’re going to be on our own for several days.”

  Kent grimaced. “Oh good,” he drawled, “nothing like our very own zombie-infested vacation.”

  “Not the worst vacation I’ve ever been on,” Baker quipped.

  “Oh yeah?” Short asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where was that?”

  Baker sighed. “Cabo.”

  The trio of newcomers stared at him curiously.

  “Cabo?” Kent asked. “How in the hell do you fuck up Cabo?”

  Mason shook his head. “He refuses to tell us,” he said. “Our best guess so far is that he got drunk, found a new friend, and brought back a souvenir that he didn’t intend to.”

  “I keep telling you that’s not it,” Baker muttered, shaking his head.

  Mason and Bretz both rolled their eyes.

  “Nah, I’m with Mason,” Kent said, motioning to his new friend, “it’s definitely an unwanted souvenir.”

  Baker scowled. “Don’t you start too,” he warned, “or I might have to come over and teach you some manners.”

  “Is that what you said to your friend to start your evening to forget in Cabo?” Kent shot back.

  “Naw, that’s what his date said to him,” Short added, smacking Kent in the shoulder. “Take a good look at him, don’t he look like the discipline loving type?”

  The group, minus Baker, erupted into loud laughter, just as Kersey and David reached them.

  “Good to see everyone is getting acquainted,” the Captain declared.

  The three new recruits perked up to attention, while the other three just continued casually packing their gear.

  Kersey waved his hand at the youngsters. “Please, guys,” he said, “it’s way too early in the damn morning for that. Keep getting ready.” Another yawn escaped his mouth, and he covered it with his fist. “Oh man, sorry.”

  “You all right there, Cap?” Bretz asked, brow furrowing.

  “Yeah, just,” Kersey replied, and took a sip of his coffee, “lots I gotta be awake for. Which is why I’m going to have my friend David here walk you through the mission.”

  David’s eyes widened as all six soldiers turned to him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Oh, okay,” he stammered, “just gonna jump on in.” He pulled out his maps, fumbling the papers a little. “Okay, here we go.” He spread out one of the immediate region, and one of a small town, on a nearby table. “Gentlemen, if you will please focus your attention on the small town map and we’ll get started. What you are looking at is the town of Redmond, a quaint little suburb to the northeast of downtown Seattle. While you can’t really tell from this crop, it is the first signs of civilization as you approach from the east.”

  Baker raised his hand.

  David tongued his cheek for a moment, hesitating as he tried to remember his name. “Yes… Baker?”

  “Yeah,” the Private replied with a nod, lowering his hand. “When you say little, you wanna quantify that a bit more?”

  David raised a hand, tilting it back and forth in the air. “Well, it’s little compared to some of the other suburbs,” he replied. “Pre-war, there were about seventy-five thousand people living there.”

  “You and I have very different definitions of little,” Baker retorted.

  The communications expert grimaced. “My apologies,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “The good news is, you aren’t going to have to go very deep into Redmond to get what you’re looking for.” He pointed to a circled area on the southeast portion of town. There were several large white-roofed buildings making up a substantial shopping center. “According to our satellite imagery, the trucks you need to complete your mission are in this shopping center on the southeast portion of town. Now, the satellite imagery also shows a heavy zombie population, but you will be embedded with a moderate sized strike force who will be there clearing out the town.”

  “How big?” Short asked, without raising his hand.

  David glanced at him. “We’re sending a team of seven hundred and fifty to secure Redmond. A squad of a hundred will be tasked with escorting you to the site before rejoining the others. You are to get in, secure half a dozen trucks, and head out.” He slid over to the larger area map. “Now.” He took a deep breath. “This is where things get tricky.”

  “Pretty sure it’s all tricky,” Kent quipped, “but go on.”

  “With the trucks secure, you’ll be hopping on highway five twenty south,” David continued, “which will lead you to your destination. Unfortunately, it also means you have to go through the town of Overlake. It’s smaller than Redmond, but the last images we have show a significant presence of zombies on the road.”

  “Can we go around them?” Mason asked.

  David shook his head. “Wouldn’t recommend it,” he admitted. “A lot of the surface streets are covered in trees, but the areas where we can see the road appear to be crowded. You’re going to just have to push through.”

  “And what are we supposed to do when those fuckers get wedged in the wheels?” Baker asked, throwing up his hands. “Or stall out the engine?”

  Kent smirked. “You could always hitchhike.”

  “Would you pick me up?” Baker scoffed.

  Kent winked at him. “Not after hearing your Cabo story.”

  Laughter rippled through the group again, and Bretz waved a hand to get them to settle down.

  “The most difficult portion of this drive is up next,” David said, raising his voice a bit to get them to focus, “the four-o-five interchange. The good news is, you’ll be on the ground, so no risk of running off of a bridge. The bad news is, it’s most likely going to be densely packed.”

  Mason leaned his hands on the table. “So, how are we supposed to get through there?” he asked.

  “Air support,” David replied.

  The soldiers glanced around at each other and nodded, impressed.

  “Air support, huh?” Baker asked, rubbing his hands together. “What
we got?”

  “Two Apache gunships,” David replied. “They’ll need a thirty-minute window to arrive, so you’ll have to plan accordingly, but call them in and they’ll clear a path for you here.” He pointed to the stretch of road.

  Baker raised his hand, and the communications expert reluctantly motioned to him.

  “If we have Apaches,” the Private began, “then why are we risking our lives to go block these bridges? Why not just blow them to hell and call it a day?”

  David looked at Kersey, who appeared to still be half asleep.

  The Captain startled when he realized everyone was looking at him and cleared his throat. “Because somebody way above our pay grade has decided that infrastructure like this has to be spared,” he explained. “They feel like this city is going to have to be usable once we take it over, and we won’t have the manpower or resources to repair the bridges.” He took a long gulp of his coffee.

  “Great,” Baker said with a sigh, “so we’re expendable, huh?”

  Bretz patted his shoulder. “Nah, bud, just you,” he said, “they’re actually rooting for the rest of us to come back.”

  There was another light round of chuckles, and Kersey raised his mug to David to encourage him to continue.

  “Okay,” his friend said, “once the gunships clear the way for you, the first target is the five-twenty bridge over Lake Washington. Two trucks will need to block this off to protect our soldiers who are advancing from the east. The other four trucks are to keep going towards the main target, which is the I-five bridge just north of downtown.”

  They leaned over to have a look at the bridge, seeing a major interchange just south of it.

  Bretz pointed to it, tapping his finger. “That interchange going from the five-twenty to the five looks problematic,” he said. “Can we call in the Apaches to help us out there?”

  “Unfortunately not,” David replied, shaking his head. “They have a one-way ticket to the ships just offshore. In order to get more people on, they had to ditch a lot of non-essentials, like missiles and fuel.”

  Mason scratched his head. “So how are we supposed to get across, if we can’t get to the bridge?” he asked.