Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 3 | Dead America-Seattle [Part 1] Page 7

  This may be your last throw ever, so at least make it a good one, he urged himself, and lobbed the metal bottle towards the center of the store, arching it high over the top of the shelving. A second later, it clanged on the cement floor, rattling around loudly.

  The zombies at the registers moaned loudly and began shuffling off in that direction.

  Holy shit, did that work? He shook his head in disbelief. Really?

  His excitement tempered when he heard moans coming from the front entrance. He peeked around the corner and his stomach sank at the sight of a dozen or so ghouls attracted by the noise.

  Gotta move, he thought frantically, you gotta move! He psyched himself up and moved from cover, quickly and quietly going from register to register, pausing at each end cap.

  The footsteps and moans got louder as he got closer to the battery display. As he took a knee at the last end cap just before it, a shot boomed from above, and a corpse crumbled a few feet away.

  Kowalski dashed past it to the batteries. Fuck, what do these things take? He used the scope to check all the battery types, finally shaking his head and opening one of the tool bags. Fuck it, I’m taking everything. He tore the packages from the shelf, grabbing every type of standard battery he could get his hands on.

  Another shot boomed, and another corpse fell. This triggered moaning not just towards the door, but from the aisle he’d thrown the can down.

  Good enough! Kowalski didn’t worry about being quiet this time, running parallel to the front of the store. His footsteps excited the zombies behind him, drawing even more into the store and in his direction.

  He sprinted about forty yards, holding the scope up to his eye so he had some rough idea of where he was going. He spotted a zombie in front of him, but within seconds the head exploded, so he ducked down behind the paint-mixing stand near the front of the store.

  As he caught his breath, he looked through his scope at the main part of the store. There were still several zombies pursuing him, but they were a good thirty yards away and slowing as if they didn’t have him in sight. He looked up at the aisle headers.

  Hardware, door fixtures, cleaning… he read. Fuck, where are these things? He kept scanning until he stopped on one sign that read Home goods. Figuring that was his best chance, he checked, and then sighed when he realized that it was the aisle where the can landed.

  Well, bad luck is at least a form of luck, he thought, so the fates haven’t completely abandoned you.

  He looked up to Doyle, who he hoped was watching him. He motioned to the aisle he needed, that was now filled with zombies.

  A second later, Doyle yelled, “Are you insane?!”

  Kowalski simply looked up at him, giving a big smile and a thumbs up. He imagined his companion sighing and shaking his head.

  “Hang on, I got an idea,” Doyle called back.

  There was a moment of silence, and then bullets started flying. In addition to the boom of the gun going off, there were metal pings coming from the front of the store, and then a high-pitched hissing sound. Kowalski’s eyes widened when he realized Doyle was firing at the propane tanks.

  He had a moment of panic, though he told himself that without a significant spark those things weren’t going to detonate. Still, it’s a risky move, he thought, but it couldn’t be helped. What was done was done.

  At least the zombies from the aisle shambled towards the hissing sound, and he waited for several to go by before moving. As they staggered, one of the ghouls got its sleeve caught on a display, and no matter how much it shifted around, it couldn’t break free.

  Okay fates, I get it, I have bad luck, Kowalski thought bitterly. Can you lay off now?

  He moved up quickly and quietly, hugging the top of the aisle, and darting across the openings in case something else was waiting for him. As he approached his target, another shot went off and the trapped zombie slumped on the display. Unfortunately the dead weight pulled down the metal structure, crashing loudly on the floor.

  Kowalski froze, and then raised his scope, watching several of the zombies that had left turn around and head towards the sound. Nice shooting, Tex, he thought.

  “Sorry, I got you!” Doyle called, and shots rang out at a rapid pace.

  The returning zombies began to fall like flies, and Kowalski didn’t wait, trusting his companion to have his back. Unconcerned with his noise due to the gunfire, he tore forward, sweeping the aisle to make sure it was empty, and then studied the shelves.

  Halfway down, he looked around frantically, hoping the alarm clocks would jump out at him. He finally spotted something promising and picked up a box.

  Supersonic alarm clock, he read to himself, wakes the dead, or your money back. He shook his head. So that’s what causes the apocalypse. At least they get to keep their money.

  He stuffed six boxes into the tool bag and closed it up. “Got them!” he called between gunshots. “Headed back!”

  Kowalski ran down the aisle back towards the maintenance room, awkwardly looking through the scope as he went.

  “Big crowd ahead!” Doyle yelled. “Get to the wall!”

  Kowalski reached the center aisle and looked down towards the target wall, where several zombies came up from the back of the store. He put his head down and ran, trusting that his partner would do his job.

  Blood splattered on his arm as he ran past a zombie, but he didn’t stop. He made it to the side wall, staring at the maintenance room. Several zombies came towards it from the other side, so he took off at a sprint. He pumped his legs as hard as he could, the chorus of moans rising and echoing.

  He pushed his body beyond what he’d ever pushed it before, beating the zombies by a couple of steps, and threw the door open, rushing inside. As he tried to pull it closed behind him, a set of rotted hands grabbed it from the back and pulled.

  Kowalski strained, keeping the door as shut as he could, putting his boot against the doorframe. “Any time Doyle!” he yelled.

  Another shot went off, and the hands fell from the door, allowing Kowalski to slam it shut.

  “Holy fucking balls man,” he muttered to himself as he made his way to the ladder. “I’m never doing that again.” He climbed up, starting at the top when Doyle squatted there, waiting for him.

  “You good man?” he asked.

  Kowalski huffed. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied. “Just hoping I get a promotion from this.”

  “Does rank really matter at this point?” Doyle asked with a light laugh.

  His companion smirked and shook his head. “Yeah, it means I would be able to delegate this to you while I set up here all comfy and shooting,” he drawled.

  Doyle chuckled and helped him up, and they made their way back to the roof. Once they emerged from the hatch, Kowalski let out a loud whistle so that the others knew they were back. Martin and Hurley gave a quick wave before going back to shooting.

  Doyle and Kowalski walked to the back of the store, where the latter dumped out the tool bags. They quickly ripped open the boxes and battery packages, assembling them.

  Kowalski fiddled with the controls on one of the finished ones. “All right, here goes nothing,” he said, and then hit the alarm button. Immediately both men covered their ears as the 115 decibel alarm nearly blew out their eardrums. He switched it off. “Fucking hell, that’s loud.”

  “If this doesn’t do it, I have no idea what will,” Doyle replied, and they scrambled to slam batteries into the rest of the clocks.

  They brought all six to the air conditioner unit near the back of the store and aimed them towards the bridge, nodding while covering their ears as best they could before hitting all the alarm buttons.

  The sound was deafening, blasting through the air in alternating beats. They backed away from the clocks and then went to the far end of the back of the store.

  Come on motherfuckers, you know you want to know what this is, Kowalski thought, and both men raised their scopes, relieved to see that some of the creatures from the
bridge at the back started to wander towards them.

  “Hell yeah!” Kowalski cried, raising a fist. “Sonic doom for the win!”

  The men exchanged a high five as they kept watch, surveying more and more creatures coming their way.

  Kowalski pulled out his walkie-talkie, lifting it to his lips. “Hey Sarge, come in,” he said.

  A few seconds later, Copeland replied, “Not sure what that is soldier, but we can hear it down here pretty good.”

  The sniper grinned. “Sonic alarms,” he said loudly, “and if you can hear it there, then you can only imagine what it sounds like up here.”

  “Question is,” the Sergeant countered, “are they working?”

  Kowalski nodded. “They’re starting to,” he said. “Already have several dozen peeling off and coming our way. Only a matter of time until the others join.”

  “Damn fine work Kowalski,” Copeland said. “Damn fine work.”

  The sniper straightened his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Copeland out.”

  The duo of snipers stood and watched as more and more creatures wandered off the bridge, heading towards the sonic distraction.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The alarms had been blaring for a half an hour, and the zombie horde at the barricade became smaller and smaller. The sun began to peek up from behind the horizon, illuminating the horrific carnage on the bridge.

  There was a pile of bodies stretched across the interstate, easily three deep and piled three and four high in some spots. With the soldiers out of reach, and the alarms blaring in the stance, the stragglers on the bridge had lost all interest and wandered away.

  Sergeant Copeland stood proud, nodding in approval of what his men had been able to accomplish. As he admired the scene, Dawson approached.

  “Hell of a night, huh Sarge?” the Corporal asked.

  “Understatement, soldier,” Copeland replied with a sigh. “Understatement.”

  Dawson crossed his arms. “So, what’s next?” he asked.

  “I’m going to keep a skeleton crew here to do some reinforcements on this barricade,” the Sergeant explained. “It barely held a couple thousand, so no way in hell it’s holding back a hundred thousand. I want you to take the rest of the men and start clearing the neighborhoods. Those car alarm batteries aren’t going to last forever, so we need to strike while we can.”

  “Any word on reinforcements or a resupply?” Dawson asked.

  Copeland shook his head. “No, but I’m supposed to talk to the Captain in an hour or so.”

  “Good deal,” the Corporal replied. “If you need me, I’ll be on comm.”

  “Be safe, Dawson,” Copeland said, and watched him walk away and begin to bark out orders for men to follow him.

  Most of the group left, except for five standing at the barricade. Copeland took a deep breath and approached the young soldier who’d been bitten, standing guard as strong as ever. He sighed, showing a brief moment of reluctance as he knew it was time to do what he didn’t want to have to do.

  “Rest of you take five,” the Sergeant said, “get some chow from the Super Center.”

  The four men shared glances, looking at him and then the young soldier. They nodded at him, silently paying their respects and thanking him for his service that night. As they cleared out, the kid stood firm.

  “Is it time, sir?” he asked.

  “It is, soldier,” Copeland replied. “You’ve done a damn fine job. I couldn’t ask for a braver soldier to be under my command.”

  The kid nodded, but remained stoic. “Thank you sir, that means a lot to me.”

  “Do you have any requests?” Copeland asked.

  “Just one, sir,” the young man said politely. “I would like to go out a warrior.”

  The Sergeant shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that, son.”

  “I do, sir,” the kid replied. “If you… do what you need to do right now, it won’t feel like I’m a warrior. It will feel like I’m being put down like an old dog.”

  Copeland nodded thoughtfully. “What would you like, then?”

  The young soldier set down his guns and ammo and pulled his knife. “With your permission sir,” he began, “I would like to hop that barrier and go slaughter as many of those things as I can before they overwhelm me. Using my knife only, so that none of the ammunition goes to waste. Even if there is enough to me to reanimate, I won’t be a runner.”

  Copeland pursed his lips. “You know that goes against direct orders,” he said.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” the soldier replied.

  The Sergeant cracked a smile, impressed at the young man’s quip. He contemplated for another moment, weighing his options, and then nodded.

  “Happy hunting, soldier,” he finally said, and saluted the kid.

  The young man saluted him back, and then hopped the barricade, hobbling towards the zombie horde. Copeland watched, eyes shining, as he stabbed a couple of stragglers in the back of the head before moving up towards the bulk.

  The Sergeant turned around and walked away from the barricade back towards the Super Center for a bite to eat.

  END

  Up next: The next phase of the operation. Corporal Herrera joins a team air dropping onto Mercer Island to create a diversion zone in “Seattle - Part 2”.

  Seattle - Pt. 2 can be found at this link

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08HY4GX2X