“Did he get good stuff?” Kersey asked, sounding amused.
Bretz glanced at his partner. “Captain wants to know if you got the good bourbon,” he said.
“Aww, hell yeah, Corporal,” Short replied with a lopsided grin. “Top shelf all the way, none of that well bullshit.”
Bretz chuckled. “He says top shelf,” he said into the phone.
“Remind me to give him a promotion once you guys are back safe,” Kersey replied.
Bretz laughed and gave Short a thumbs up. “He’ll be pleased to hear that.”
“Well, you two stay safe,” Kersey continued, “I need to report to General Stephens and let him know what the situation is.”
The Corporal nodded, tilting his head back to let the sun fall on his face. “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”
“You got it,” Kersey replied. “And again, great job today, Bretz.”
“Thanks, Cap,” he replied, and the line went dead. He pocketed the phone and scratched the back of his head, suddenly realizing the stench wafting off of the carpet of the dead was rather ripe.
“So what now, Corporal?” Short asked.
Bretz shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “You want to try out one of those molotovs to make sure they work? You know. For science?”
“Hell yeah!” Short replied, laughing. “I’ll grab a bottle.”
As the kid darted to the front of the truck, Bretz pursed his lips, struggling to keep his composure. The fight was over for the time being, which was a relief, but the future was uncertain. All he could do now was drink some bourbon with a country kid and toss some molotovs onto a horde of undead.
END
Up Next: The action shifts to the southwest as a single ship makes a desperate beach landing in an attempt to create a southern front in the war in “Seattle - Part 4”.
SEATTLE - PART 4
DEAD AMERICA - THE NORTHWEST INVASION
BOOK 6
BY DEREK SLATON
© 2020
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +24
“What do you think, Jinx?” Private Davila asked, leaning on the railing overlooking the main cargo hold. “This the day we’re finally getting off this boat?”
Corporal Eddie ‘Jinx’ Jenkins tongued his cheek. “That’s the rumor going around,” he replied. “Of course we’re heard similar rumors for the last two weeks.” He tilted his head, voice rising in pitch as he mocked, “Oh, we’re getting off in Portland. Oh, we’re headed for Hawaii. Oh look, it’s Fantasy Island, I can’t wait to party with that midget dude.”
“Tattoo,” Davila offered.
Jinx raised an eyebrow. “Tattoo?”
“Yeah, that was the dude’s name, Tattoo,” the Private explained. “He would always yell Da plane, da plane! How do you not know that?”
Jinx rolled his eyes. “How do I not know the name of a specific character from a seventies tv series?” He put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I don’t know, could be because I had a life before the end of the world. Better question is, how do you know the character name? What next, you going to rattle off the crew of the Love Boat?”
“Well, there was Captain Stubing, Doctor Bricker, Isaac the Bartender,” Davila replied, counting off on his fingers.
The Corporal chuckled, shaking his head. “Buddy, I’m going to tell you something that someone should have told you years ago,” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You really need to get out more.”
“Nah, it’s not like that, man,” Davila replied, sharing the laugh. “I spent summers with my grandmother and she loved those old seventies shows. Had stacks of VHS tapes and would watch them over and over again. Even still had the commercials on them. I was so heartbroken as a kid when I found out I couldn’t get New Coke.”
Jinx grinned. “From what I understand, you dodged a bullet there.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” the Private agreed.
The loudspeaker in the cargo hold flicked on with a light squeal and fumbling mic noises before a booming voice echoed in the room. “Attention, all team leaders, please report to the briefing room,” it said. “Repeat, all team leaders please report to the briefing room.”
“Well, looks like the rumors were true,” Jinx said, stretching his arms above his head.
Davila grinned. “Make sure you get us a good assignment,” he said, pointing a finger at his Corporal. “None of this guarding a gas station nonsense. We’ve traveled this far and we’re ready to light these things up.”
“You know it.” Jinx winked at him and they exchanged a fist bump. “Get the squad together at our usual table in the mess hall and I’ll brief you when I’m done.” He headed off towards the briefing room, glancing down at the floor below to see a few dozen men doing the same thing.
This is going to be a packed room, he thought. Guess everybody is chomping at the bit to get off of this boat.
Jinx worked his way down the narrow hallways of the ship, glancing in every room he passed to see them overcrowded with people and gear. When they’d left port nearly a month ago, there wasn’t much time to load things like normal, which meant vital goods like guns, ammo, and food had been thrown anywhere and everywhere they could.
The USS Anchorage, a San Antonio class transport ship was state-of-the art, designed to carry all manner of man and machinery into battle. It was complete with a helicopter landing pad on the surface and a battery of weaponry that would put most other nation’s Navy ships to shame.
Today, however, in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, the ship was vastly different. Instead of cargo holds filled with tanks and vehicles, it housed nearly a thousand soldiers on makeshift bedding. This effectively doubled the intended capacity for the ship, putting a strain on everything from the mess hall to simple things like plumbing.
The close quarters and constant deployment at sea had begun to take its toll on the soldiers, with numerous fisticuffs breaking out over the previous week. The stress of
