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

one, sending it to the side. He was the first to reach the grass and quickly climbed the short incline, about ten feet, with the rest of the group behind.
He glanced back, seeing the others as well as a few dozen zombies within twenty yards shuffling towards them. He turned back to the interstate, coming over the crest of the hill and hitting the pavement.
There were about forty zombies spread out between them and the opposite side. As he paused briefly to plot their course, one creature about fifteen yards away turned to moan at him, but then its head exploded.
Kowalski cracked a smile as the rest of the group caught up to him. “Straight across, we got cover,” he said.
They took off like a shot, running in a straight line as Wade fired at a pretty decent clip. One by one, the creatures in front of them fell, clearing a path.
When they reached the median, Kowalski hopped over the concrete barrier first. As he did, several zombies converged on his position, having been unable to clear the barrier to get to the gunfire noise.
“Move it!” Kowalski yelled. “The hole is closing!”
Doyle, Martin, and Hurley cleared the barrier, the latter barely making it past the outstretched arms. Carver, a few yards behind, hesitated, seeing the window closing. He pulled out his handgun and took aim, firing and hitting one creature in the head. Another zombie on the line fell in a spray of blood and bone from Wade’s bullet.
Kowalski skidded to a stop and looked back. “Move it, Carver!” he screamed, panic rising at his teammates' situation.
Doyle and Martin turned and squeezed off a few shots with their handguns, trying to thin the growing herd around their friend.
“Fuck it,” Carver said, and ran towards the barrier, planting a foot on the median and leaping forward with everything he had. One zombie managed to catch his ankle, stopping his forward momentum and dropping him to the ground.
Before he could even register the pain of his face meeting the pavement, a dozen creatures dove at him, tearing into him with claws and teeth.
As his screams pierced the air, Kowalski grabbed Doyle by the arm. “He’s gone, we gotta move!” he cried, and shoved him away from the carnage.
The quartet slid down the hill on their side of the interstate, getting to the frontage road with handguns drawn. There were a few zombies on the road, with more coming from the side streets and business parking lots, attracted to the gunfire and Carver’s dying screams.
Kowalski stepped through the group, leading them towards the shopping center a few hundred yards away, at a brisk pace. “Only fire if you have to, we gotta shed some of this heat,” he said.
His companions looked lost, ashen faced and unsure of themselves.
Kowalski snapped his fingers, making them look at him. “Carver’s gone,” he said, tone harsh. “We’ll have time to deal with it on the roof. Now let’s move!” he demanded.
The snipers nodded and followed him as he ran towards a side street, making the turn towards the shopping center on the right. Dozens of zombies littered the side street, pouring out from the parking lot.
Kowalski picked up his pace into high gear, the others following suit. They attempted to make it to the truck entrance of the shopping center, but a throng of zombies flooded out of it, drawn to the noise.
He tore off of the street into an overgrown field, trying to cut off the horde. Halfway across, a hand grabbed his ankle, and he instinctively fired down into a zombie’s head, just an inch away from his foot. He stared down at it for a moment, stunned at the close call.
Doyle caught up to him and looked down at the corpse, missing its bottom half, and shook his head. “Way too close for comfort, bud,” he breathed.
Kowalski nodded in agreement and then took a deep breath, continuing their trek. He looked to his left, seeing the zombies from the truck entrance were heading their way now, drawn to his gunshot, entering the grass.
“Gotta get to solid ground,” he huffed, and tore towards the pavement behind the stores, relieved to be out of the tall grass where the undead could be lurking.
He glanced to the left, seeing dozens of creatures moving towards them, but still far enough away that they weren’t yet a threat. To the right was mostly clear.
“Should be a couple hundred yards to the store,” he said, and took off running.
His trio of companions followed him, guns raised and ready for action. As they approached the edge of the building next to a short driveway, they stopped at the sight of a hundred ghouls packed into the area, the back end fifteen yards from their corner.
“Shit, that’s a lot of those things,” Kowalski muttered under his breath.
Doyle looked over and saw the ladder on the back of the store, the same kind as the one Wade had used with the cover over the bottom eight feet of rungs. Unfortunately for them, there was no dumpster in sight.
“Well, there’s our target,” Doyle said. “But we’re gonna need teamwork to get up there.”
Kowalski peeked out again, but a zombie caught sight of the movement and moaned, shambling their way.
“Good enough for me, let’s move!” he urged, and the quartet sprinted across the driveway. As they raced down the back of the store towards the ladder, moaning erupted in front of them. “I’ll cover the front,” Kowalski barked, “start getting up there!”
He stopped just past the ladder, pulling up his rifle and finding the target about thirty yards ahead with his night vision scope. He fired off several shots in rapid succession, buying them some time.
Meanwhile, Doyle crouched and laced his fingers together, giving Martin a boost up to the rung cover. After he was clear, he boosted Hurley up.
“Kowalski let’s go!” Doyle cried, and his team leader fired one more shot before tearing back to him, practically flying up to the ladder.
Kowalski hooked an