Slaton - Dead America The First Week (Book 5): The El Paso Invasion

DEAD AMERICA: THE FIRST WEEK

BOOK 5: THE EL PASO INVASION

BY DEREK SLATON

2019

CHAPTER ONE

Day Zero +3

9:13 AM

Homicide Detective Rogers leaned his head back against the headrest of his 1970 Boss 302 Mustang, running a hand over the steering wheel lovingly. Hed taken pride in his efforts to rebuild his first vehicle, spending years tracking down original parts and wanting it to be as authentic as possible.

His eyes fluttered closed with images of the jet black car rolling through his head, but perked up immediately at the sound of a sharp whistle.

Now I know youre not trying to take a nap, are you? Detective Brad Stevenson bellowed as he approached the car. He held up a tray of coffee and breakfast tacos, looking almost ridiculous standing next to the car with his five-foot-two powder keg frame.

Just trying to squeeze in what I can, when I can, Rogers replied. The last twenty-four hours have been nuts.

Stevenson nodded. Thats an understatement, he agreed, and then skirted the car. He plonked himself into the passenger seat and passed over the large paper cup, and tilted the tray to display the two tacos. Sausage or bacon?

Bacons good for the heart, right? Rogers asked, patting his chest through the plain polo shirt he donned.

His partner cocked his head. Youre a southern boy, arent you?

Born and bred.

Then, yeah, it is, Stevenson replied with a chuckle. Sorry I couldnt find any gravy for you.

Rogers plucked the bacon taco with a grin. Gonna have to write you up, then. They bit into their breakfast and surveyed the parking lot.

The entire area had been cordoned off to be used as a staging area for the police. Several dozen police officers were moving about, collecting food and ammo, some of them getting emergency medical treatment. Some took power naps on makeshift cots in an erected tent. There were shotgun-wielding guards every twenty feet, keeping an eye on the city that devolved into chaos around them.

The dose of reality sobered the two detectives in a quick nosedive.

Still cant believe this shit is real, Stevenson said quietly.

Rogers took a sip of his brew. You mean the zombies, or the cartel finally invading us?

I may be young, but Ive been working homicide with you long enough to know we were invaded a long time ago, his partner replied with a roll of his eyes.

Rogers barked a laugh. Thats true. Still amazed at how brazen theyve become though. Makes you wonder just how fucked we are.

Well, the military is doing bombing runs in Austin and San Antonio, so Id wager we are somewhere between super-duper and mega fucked, Stevenson mused.

His partner swallowed a particularly large mouthful of taco and cleared his throat, scratching the thinning black hair on the back of his head. You heard any estimates on how many of them flooded over the border yesterday?

Too fucking many man, Stevenson shook his head. I havent heard from anybody I trust, but a couple of guys in the breakfast line were talking about it. They were swearing up and down that fifteen thousand armed cartel members came in.

Rogers let out an exasperated guffaw. Oh, is that all? Were only outnumbered fifteen to one.

Look at the bright side, his partner pointed out. Fifteen to one is a better ratio than the five hundred to one were getting with the zombies.

I knew I liked you for a reason. Rogers wagged a greasy finger at his passenger. Always looking on the bright side of life.

The police radio on the dash let out a squeal.

Emergency SWAT backup is being requested at the east side Mercy Hospital, a female dispatch operator demanded. Heavily armed assailants have taken control of the building and are holding an unknown number of hostages. SWAT, please respond with ETA.

The two officers continued their breakfast, chewing the last bites of their tacos.

SWAT, emergency assistance needed at the east side Mercy Hospital, the dispatch tried again. Please respond with ETA.

Another twenty seconds passed, and there was radio silence. Rogers looked over to his partner and shrugged his muscular shoulders.

What do you think? he asked.

Stevenson licked his fingers clean and wiped them on his jeans. Im all for going to save some beautiful nurses.

I sincerely hope thats because you like a woman in uniform and now because of some debaucherous fetish you discovered on the dark side of the internet. Rogers turned the key in the ignition, and the Mustang roared to life.

Stevenson put up a hand. Hey now, dont kink shame. Some of us are just more enlightened about the finer things in life.

His partner shook his head, cracking a half smile as he picked up the receiver to respond.

SWAT, do you copy? the dispatch asked once more.

Rogers clicked the button. Dispatch, this is Detectives Rogers and Stevenson. I dont believe SWAT is taking your call at the moment. Were in the neighborhood and will provide backup.

Detective Rogers, that is a negative, the woman replied immediately. They are requesting SWAT, not Homicide.

Very well, dispatch, he replied with a shrug. Question though. Have the assailants killed anyone on site?

There was a pause, and then a click. Yes. Numerous fatalities have been reported.

Okay then, Rogers said to her with a large smile on his face. Dispatch, this is Detectives Rogers and Stevenson of Homicide. We are moving out to the east side Mercy Hospital to investigate a mass murder event. If you need us, thats where well be.

The woman sighed heavily through the speaker and Stevenson snorted a laugh.

Very well, Detective, she said begrudgingly. Just make sure you bring some big guns with you.

Rogers snickered before pushing the button again. Dispatch, I am deeply hurt and offended at your implication that I am not heavily armed. May I remind you that I am, in fact, a native born Texan?

Just be safe, Detective, she snapped.

He saluted the radio. Ten-four, dispatch. He devoured the last bite of his taco and tossed the wrapper out the open window. He revved the engine and Stevenson immediately chugged his hot coffee in its entirety, squeaking and waving air into his open mouth in an attempt to cool it off.

Rogers raised a confused eyebrow. You know its a ten minute drive, right?

Ive seen you drive, his partner retorted. Its not exactly conducive to beverage drinking. Caffeine is more important at the moment than preventing mouth burns.

Rogers chuckled. Point taken. He popped the car into gear and hit the gas, burning out the tires and sending white smoke into the air. He peeled out of the driveway and down the nearly vacant street towards the hospital.

CHAPTER TWO

Rogers pulled around the last corner before the hospital, and slowly rumbled behind a row of trees about fifty yards from the action. There were four police cars parked in front of the four-story hospital building, facing the large glass entranceway. Six officers ducked behind their cars, occasionally popping up to fire a few shots, but retreating as soon as automatic gunfire ripped into their cars in reply.

Rogers shook his head as one of the foolishly brave officers began to creep around the car and took a few rounds to the chest. His vest saved his life but he groaned on the ground, likely wishing for death from the hard impact.

We should probably get loaded up here, Rogers suggested. His partner nodded and they exited the car in unison, heading around to the trunk. Rogers popped it open, revealing a small arsenal of weaponry. Stevenson eagerly dove in, picking up an AK-47 and a handful of extra mags. His partner opted for a scoped AR-15.

Stevenson raised an eyebrow. What, no grenades?

Eh, they were on backorder, Rogers replied.

The duo chuckled as he closed the trunk and they moved up to the trees to survey the situation. The battle was a rhythmic back-and-forth, each side firing for a good ten seconds before switching it up.