Dead America The Northwest Invasion | Book 5 | Dead America-Seattle [Part 3]

off scraps for a month,” he grunted playfully, “how in the hell are you still this heavy?”
“Just lucky I guess,” Baker replied with a lopsided grin.
Bretz secured him and then slammed the door, running around to the driver’s side. He popped the truck into gear and headed off towards the bridge. As he grew closer, there were still several standing zombies, which he bonked as he went by, unavoidable given how they were staggered across the road.
The bridge itself was mostly clear, with only the occasional straggler on it. As he grew closer to the blockade, Hess and Short stood standing outside, picking off zombies within thirty yards of them. There was a truck-sized hole between them, and he easily pulled through. As soon as he was clear, Kent moved his big rig so that the two big vehicles blocked off the entire highway bridge.
Bretz braked to a stop on the other side and hopped down as the other soldiers clustered around him.
“How’s Baker?” Hess asked immediately.
The Corporal nodded. “He’s fine, just got his bell rung when that car detonated,” he explained.
“I gotta admit,” Kent drawled, “up until that point those chopper boys put on a hell of a show. Always wondered what a mini-gun would do to a human body.”
Hess motioned to the tires of the parked trucks, which were coated in a dark crimson goo. “Well, we’re going to be reminded of it until we get rescued, because that stuff isn’t coming off anytime soon,” he said.
“So who is staying behind?” Bretz asked.
Hess and Kent both raised their hands.
The Corporal took a deep breath. “Okay, do me a favor though,” he said. “Take Baker. He’s going to be okay, but with the way the day is going, I need whoever is going to be with me to the main target to be functioning.”
Hess nodded. “Of course, Corporal.”
“Wait,” Kent cut in, raising his palms, “you’re not still moving ahead, are you? There’s only two trucks left! You can only get half the bridge with that!”
“Don’t have a choice,” Bretz replied firmly.
Kent’s eyes widened. “Hell yeah, you got a choice,” he declared. “Stay here and solidify this position. Make damn sure our boys to the east are good. And once they get here, we can move to the north.”
“Wish I could, believe me,” Bretz replied, shaking his head. “But even if it’s only a partial blockade, it’s going to be better than nothing. A significant portion of our troops are coming in from the north, and we need to secure as much of that bridge as possible.” He turned to Short, raising an eyebrow. “Question is, are you game for it?”
“Yes sir,” the Private replied immediately. “We’ll get it done.”
“Good, I like that attitude,” Bretz commended, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hess, Kent, let’s get Baker transferred over.”
The trio moved to the passenger’s side, and Bretz opened the door. Baker stared down at them, looking bewildered.
“Um…” he drawled, “is there something I should know?”
Kent smiled. “Yeah, you’re bunking with us for a few days,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “So toss down your shit so the Corporal here can get a move on.”
“Wait, no no no,” Baker said, waving his hands in front of his face. “Bretz, you aren’t going anywhere without me.” He put his foot on the step, and slipped, grabbing the doorframe to steady himself. “I… I just need a few minutes.”
“That’s time we don’t have,” Bretz said gently. “I need you to get out of this truck.”
Baker stared at him, shaking his head, pain in his eyes. “What in the hell are you going to do with only two trucks?”
“Yeah, we already tried that angle with him,” Kent quipped, “didn’t work. So come on, now.”
Baker reluctantly climbed down from the truck, dragging his bag behind him. He turned and glanced at Short, who had been getting his stuff ready to get back to his own truck.
“You watch after him, you hear?” Baker said, as firmly as he could despite his shaky movements.
Short nodded. “I’ll keep him safe,” he said. “Now you go get some rest.”
Baker patted him on the shoulder and then stumbled off towards the blockade.
“You ready to head out?” Bretz asked.
Short nodded and exchanged a fist bump with Hess and Kent.
“We’ll see you boys on the other side,” Kent said, clapping him on the back.
Bretz offered him a thin smile and then headed for the driver’s seat, ready to face the horrors that lay ahead.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bretz and Short drove down the highway one behind the other, driving slowly to avoid any more wrecks. The closer they got to their destination, the more seemed to be littering the road. Abandoned cars were scattered about, and countless zombies roamed the streets.
The creatures were too dense to avoid, but in small enough groups that the trucks were able to just plow through them.
Bretz raised the CB radio to his mouth. “We have about a mile to go until we reach the interstate interchange,” he said. “Once we hit that, we’ll be less than a mile from the bridge.”
“How far up do you want to get?” Short asked.
“With the way today is going, I’ll settle for just making it to the bridge,” the Corporal admitted. “Anything past that is a bonus.”
“Hear that,” Short replied.
They drove a little further before Bretz slowed to a crawl, and then squealed to a stop.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself.
“Everything okay, Corporal?” Short asked through the radio.
Bretz lifted the receiver to his mouth, shaking his head. “Why don’t you pull up beside me and take a look for yourself?”
The second truck pulled up next to him, and then Short came through, “Some days it just ain’t your day.”
The interchange was a colossal clusterfuck. There was a major pileup, with overturned cars and transport trucks. To add to the mess, there were a few thousand zombies roaming about. They sat there, dumbfounded, before getting back to it.
“You got a map over there?” Bretz