Dead America-The Northwest Invasion Box Set | Books 1-6 Read online

  DEAD AMERICA

  THE NORTHWEST INVASION COLLECTION

  PART 1

  BOOKS 1 - 6

  BY: DEREK SLATON

  © 2020

  BOOKS:

  1. PORTLAND - PT. 1

  2. PORTLAND - PT. 2

  3. SEATTLE - PT. 1

  4. SEATTLE - PT. 2

  5. SEATTLE - PT. 3

  6. SEATTLE - PT. 4

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  www.DeadAmericaBooks.com

  PORTLAND - PART 4

  DEAD AMERICA: THE NORTHWEST INVASION

  BOOK 1

  BY DEREK SLATON

  © 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  Day Zero +22

  Zion stepped out of his apartment early in the morning. As the door clicked shut behind him, he looked up the dimly lit hallway towards the stairwell, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light. The only source was from a mirror at the end of the hallway that had been positioned to reflect the sunlight from the outer wall.

  “Really need to add some emergency lighting to the shopping list,” he muttered as he began to walk. A few doors down, he stopped and smacked a door with the palm of his hand a few times. “Yo, Calvin, we got work to do, brother!” he called.

  He waited a moment, hearing low groaning and shuffling from inside. When his friend didn’t come to the door, he smacked it again loudly, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.

  “Don’t make me come in there!” he warned playfully. There was more shuffling, and then muffled voices, which made his brow furrow.

  Zion turned the knob, cracking the door open. As soon as it was an inch side, Calvin appeared, bracing his body against it to keep it from opening further. His hair stuck out in all directions, his face flushed, looking far more frantic than he usually was in the morning.

  “Hey, Zion, man,” he blurted, “can you give me like, two minutes, and I’ll be out?”

  His visitor stared him down suspiciously. “Yeah… I can do that,” he said slowly. “But first, you gotta tell me who else is in here with you.”

  “What?” Calvin asked, voice shrill. “There’s nobody in here.”

  Zion narrowed his eyes. “I heard voices.”

  Calvin opened his mouth, freezing, presumably going over excuses in his head, but none that worked post apocalypse such as I was just watching TV. After a few awkward moments of silence, he sighed and stepped aside.

  “All right, you got me,” he admitted. “But it’s not what you think.”

  Zion smirked. “Which means it’s definitely what I think,” he quipped, and moved into the apartment.

  There was paper and empty bottles everywhere, the picture of a perfect bachelor pad. As he entered the living room, he spotted Tori sitting on the couch, nose wrinkled in embarrassment. Her sandy hair was askew, sticking up on one side, and she pushed her glasses up her nose as she avoided his gaze.

  “Morning, Tori,” Zion greeted brightly.

  She chewed a fingernail. “Oh, good morning, Zion,” she babbled, still not looking at him. “I was… just… getting ready to join the others in the parking garage.”

  “Well, we’ll be down in a bit,” he said gently, smiling and nodding. “Look forward to seeing what you came up with.”

  She nodded like a bobblehead. “You won’t be disappointed.” She grabbed some papers from the coffee table and rushed out of the apartment, throwing a wild grin at Calvin on her way out.

  He shot her back a goofy smile and watched her leave, closing the door behind her. As soon as it was closed, Zion threw his arm around his buddy, shaking him.

  “Hell yeah, get you some player!” he gushed.

  Calvin’s face flushed crimson. “It’s not like that,” he insisted.

  “Oh, you ain’t gotta be shy around me,” his friend teased. “Do you have any idea what a relief it is that I’m not going to have to watch my sister whoop your ass for hittin’ on her one of these days?”

  Calvin bristled. “That’s still on the table,” he said.

  “Come on, man.” Zion rolled his eyes. “You can’t tell me it ain’t what it looks like. Pretty girl waking up in your apartment with hair like that?”

  His friend shook his head and motioned for him to follow over to the couch. There were numerous papers strewn about across the coffee table, despite what Tori had taken with her.

  “Is it safe to sit on that couch?” Zion asked, eyebrow raised.

  Calvin scoffed. “I’m telling you man, it’s not what you think,” he insisted.

  They sat down, Zion playfully looking around for any messes he shouldn’t be sitting on. As he got situated, Calvin rifled through the papers, and pulled out what looked like engineering schematics of a truck.

  “What the hell is this?” Zion furrowed his brow.

  His friend held out the paper. “It’s what Tori and I were working on last night,” he explained.

  Zion grabbed the drawing and inspected it, eyes roving over the badass vehicle with a reinforced front end, spikes, and several other bells and whistles. It was the perfect zombie-killing machine for the apocalypse.

  “So you’re telling me that y’all spent the night drawing trucks?” he asked, gaping.

  Calvin grinned wolfishly. “Not just any truck,” he said, “it’s my future battle truck.”

  Zion blinked at him in confusion. “Battle truck?” he blurted.

  “Hell yeah, a battle truck!” his friend exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “We’re in the apocalypse, and it’s about damn time we went all Mad Max with this.” He leaned forward as Zion stared dumbfounded at the drawing, grabbing a joint from a little box on the corner of the coffee table and sparking it up. “I ran into Tori at dinner last night, and we got to talking,” Calvin explained as he puffed. “She asked how Fingers was coming along with rebuilding my trucks, and then I made a joke about Mad Max, and then the next thing you know she started throwing out ideas. After that, we came up here and started drawing stuff, and the time kinda got away from us.”

  Zion chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I hope to god you aren’t that oblivious when you are watching my back out there,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Calvin’s brow furrowed.

  “Come on man,” his friend said, tossing the paper on the table, “you have a highly intelligent and cute girl talking about weaponizing your truck, and you didn’t make a move?”

  Calvin took a long drag on his joint and shook his head. “I really didn’t think she-”

  Zion cut him off by smacking him on the back of the head. “Lucky for you, we’re in the apocalypse so her pickins are slim,” he said, pointing a playful finger in his friend’s shocked face, “so you might be able to get another chance.”

  “Wait, you think…” Calvin trailed off, sitting with his joint smoldering away in his hand, forgotten.

  “Hell yeah, I think she’s into you,” Zion confirmed with a nod. “And I’m not just saying that to protect your wellbeing from my sister.”

  His friend thought back to every moment from the night before, finally remembering his weed and taking another thoughtful few puffs, replaying each bat of Tori’s eyelashes and brush of her fingers on his arm as they drew their blueprints.

  He finally scrubbed a hand down his face, groaning. “Apparently I need to start having some coffee with dinner,” he admitted, “because holy hell, how did I miss those signs?”

  “If you’re interested,” Zion replied playfully, “I do teach a course for a totally affordable amount.” He laughed.

  Calvin sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
/>   “Come on,” his friend said, smacking his knees and getting to his feet. “Let’s grab some breakfast and go see what your girlfriend has cooked up in the parking garage.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Zion and Calvin came out of the stairwell to the parking garage. Every truck and SUV had been moved against the far wall, and the cement floor was a disaster zone. There were car parts and bits of metal strewn around everywhere, tools and bins scattered about.

  “This place looks like my brother’s room growing up,” Calvin declared. “If my momma were here, somebody would be getting yelled at for sure.”

  Zion opened his mouth to respond, but a loud metallic clang startled them.

  “What in the holy hell was that?” Calvin demanded, and they rushed into the thick of things, looking around. As they came around a large van, Jack, Missy, and Harold exchanged high fives while standing beside a tall metal structure on rollers.

  Zion raised an eyebrow. “Looks like they built something fun,” he said. He and Calvin wandered over, studying the contraption.

  It was six feet tall, with roughly welded patches of metal in the center. The top two feet had a dozen metal bolts about four feet long, points on the ends. At the back was a giant lever connected to the bolts, with five wheels along the bottom, like heavy duty versions of office chair wheels.

  “My my,” Zion piped up as they approached, “what do we have here?”

  Jack grinned, brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “Hey guys, you like what you see?” he asked.

  “That depends,” Zion replied, cocking his head. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking at.”

  Missy spread her hands, presenting the object as if she were on a game show. “I like to call this the Impaler Three-Thousand.”

  “Patent pending,” Harold added.

  Calvin scratched the back of his head. “Why do you call it three-thousand?” he asked.

  “Because each spike is capable of reaching three-thousand psi, assuming you have someone strong enough to work the lever,” Missy replied.

  Zion eyed his companion with a smirk, “Guessing she isn’t talking to you,” he joked, and there was a ripple of laughs throughout the group, Calvin included. “So, walk me through it,” he said, motioning to the contraption.

  Jack stepped forward, demonstrating as he spoke. “It’s simple enough,” he explained, “you just push it up to the concrete barrier, and pull the lever as hard as you can.” He pulled the lever slightly to the right before slamming it down, and all twelve metal bolts rocketed in between the metal railing above the concrete, all of them hitting around head height with a deafening CRACK.

  Calvin crossed his arms. “Didn’t look like you pulled the lever that hard,” he said. “Hell, I’m pretty sure I can hit three-thousand myself.”

  Jack smirked and shook his head, grunting as he strained to lift the lever back up to the top. As he moved up, it clicked into place in the notches. He gave up a few from the top.

  “Need a hand with that?” Zion asked.

  Jack shook his head and stepped back from the machine. “Nah, it’s all good,” he replied. “We still need to make a few minor tweaks to the springs.”

  “So it’s a spring-loaded death machine?” Zion asked, a wide grin forming on his face.

  “I was wondering why you had those on the shopping list yesterday,” Calvin mused, wagging his finger at the students.

  “You guys found a lot of them,” Missy declared, smiling triumphantly. “Enough to build four or five more of these.”

  Harold rubbed the back of his neck. “But we still need a few smaller parts to complete them,” he admitted.

  “Just put them on the shopping list, and we’ll see what we can do this afternoon,” Zion suggested.

  Missy cocked a brow. “I thought you were doing a run this morning?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Sorry, but Wendy called in last night, and we have to go help them out first,” he replied.

  “Oh, okay,” she said, nodding, “that gives us time to work out everything we’re going to need for the lopper.”

  Zion and Calvin exchanged a glance, saying in unison, “The lopper?”

  The college kids grinned, and Jack motioned for them to follow him. They walked to the far corner of the garage, next to an area completely bathed in sunlight. Tori sat on the ground tinkering with a small weed-eater sized engine connected to a long six-foot handle that jettisoned out from the base. Above the engine was a metal post that was six feet high, with a trio of plastic arms sticking out of the top in a four-foot radius.

  “Okay, I’m intrigued,” Zion said, gaping at the machine.

  Tori looked up and regarded them, smiling warmly at Calvin. “Hey guys,” she said, “give me just a minute and I can give you a demonstration.”

  Zion nudged his companion playfully as she looked down again, and Calvin blushed, wrinkling his nose. They approached the machine, and Zion flicked one of the thin plastic arms jetting out from the center.

  “Not sure if this is gonna do a whole lot of damage,” he mused.

  Tori shook her head. “Well, this is more of a proof-of-concept prototype,” she replied. “Wanted to make sure the concept was sound before we sent you two out shopping.”

  “All right,” Zion agreed, “so what does it do?”

  The blonde held up a finger, signifying she needed a minute. She finished tinkering with the engine and then primed it. “You may want to take a step back,” she warned. “It won’t kill you, but might leave a mark.”

  The duo took a few steps back, waiting with bated breath. Once they were clear, Tori pulled the ripcord and the engine sprung to life. She moved back to the handle that stood at her waist, with a motorcycle throttle attached to the right side.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  Zion gave her a thumbs up, and she hit the throttle. The center metal rod began to spin rapidly, and the plastic arms whirled like a helicopter. It started to move so fast that they were barely visible.

  The audience nodded appreciatively, impressed.

  “Jack, the can!” Tori called over the loud engine.

  Jack looked down and grabbed an empty soda can from a pile on the ground next to his feet and then lobbed it at the blades. The machine shredded it into pieces, sending debris flying against the back wall. Tori grinned as she flicked the power off and turned back to the duo.

  “If that can was any indication, I’d say your little test worked,” Zion declared, holding up a hand.

  The blonde nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I’m pleased with it,” she agreed, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Although I think the impaler three thousand should be our priority.”

  “Why?” Zion asked, brow furrowing. “This thing looks like it could tear those bitches to shreds.”

  Tori tilted her head back and forth. “Don’t get me wrong, this thing will do the job when the time comes,” she assured him. “However, it’s going to be heavy. Like it will take three of us to move it into position heavy.”

  “Which means,” Harold added, “for it to be effective, we’re going to need a horde to be headed in our direction.”

  “And even then, it’s just going to thin some of them out,” Missy piped up.

  Zion crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Still, if you make it heavy duty enough it could help out.”

  “What would you need to make a real one of those?” Calvin asked.

  “We have most of the main components,” Tori replied. “The metal and blade components, anyway. We even have the gas.”

  Zion cocked his head. “But…”

  “We need engines,” the blonde finished. “The weed eater engine I used on the test isn’t going to pack enough punch.”

  Calvin pursed his lips for a moment. “So what are you thinking?” he asked. “Go karts?”

  “I was thinking,” Tori replied, “riding lawn mower engines?” She held up her hands as the duo shared a concerned look. “I would have thought those
would be plentiful,” she quickly added. “I can’t imagine too many looters targeting those.”

  Zion nodded. “Problem is, they’re out of season, so a lot of smaller stores stopped carrying them,” he pointed out.

  “There’s always that super garden center in the mall,” Calvin suggested.

  His companion shook his head. “That mall is a clusterfuck and a half,” he replied.

  “I thought you were luring zombies away,” Jack piped up. “Why not just do the same there?” he asked.

  “We tried,” Zion explained, “and we were only able to get the ones outside to follow. The ones inside just didn’t want to come out the doors, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to play doorman for them. So we just locked them up inside.”

  Tori nodded, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’ll see if I can come up with a workaround.”

  “Although when we’re out raiding, I’ll keep and eye out for some,” Calvin said quickly. “Never know what we’re gonna find.”

  She smiled, eyes lighting up as she regarded him.

  “Just write down everything you need,” Zion said. “We’ll take care of it as best we can.”

  “Thanks, Zion,” Tori said, and then her eyes flicked back to his companion. “Thanks Calvin.” She shot him a little wink, and a goofy grin broke out on his face.

  “We’ll be back this afternoon, so have your shopping list ready,” Zion said, and led his swooning friend away. “We need to get going.”

  “Yeah,” Calvin added, “you know how Wendy gets when we don’t show up on time.”

  “Monique ain’t much better,” Zion added, and they shared a chuckle as they headed back across the garage.

  “Oh good, you two haven’t left yet,” Cheryl called as she emerged from the stairwell.

  Zion waved to her. “What’s up?”

  “Just got a call from the cattle drivers,” she replied, “and they landed a big one.”

  “How many?” he asked.

  She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a pencil. “Their best guess was eight to ten thousand.”