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Dell Sweet: Wendell Sweet

“The virus is designed to live within the host, but it can live outside of the host. It can stay alive in a dead body for days, even if the body is frozen. In fact that just freezes the virus too, once the body is thawed it will infect any living person that comes along.”

When a catastrophic natural disaster looms on the near horizon, the government releases an airborne virus designed to make the human race tougher, better able to survive. It was developed for soldiers to make them better able to fight, go longer without food and water, and increase their strength. In its virus host it bonds itself to our own cells and helps them to regenerate at an advanced rate, so that even if you die you can rise again. In non combat field tests the soldiers become aware of this, they called the phenomenon Overclocking and looked at it in a positive light. How could you look negatively at being able to live forever? A quick shot of the antidote after the heart had begun to beat again and the virus seemed to slip into remission, leaving a healed body the would come out of the virus induced coma in a few days once again its own.But the virus does something the governments didn’t consider, it never stops working, never truly becomes dormant. Even after the body has ceased any real life, the virus lives on, rebuilding it’s host in a new and potentially indestructible way. Days later, what was dead becomes alive once more. In this book those closest to Project Bluechip begin to pick up the pieces of their world and get themselves to safety. They have heard rumors of a place in the South that might offer safety, but getting there may require a price that is far too high to pay…

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

An apocalypse of epic proportions has shaken the Earth to it’s core. More than 90 percent of the human population has been wiped from the face of the earth. Those that have survived are struggling against all odds to stay alive. Around them the dead lay where they have fallen, but when catastrophe loomed inevitable the government released an airborne virus designed to make the human race tougher, better able to survive. Now in the bodies of the dead the virus designed to save the human race has mutated, continued to work, and the dead are beginning to rise.

In the bigger cities the dead are growing quickly in numbers. Growing intelligent as they continue to change and mutate. They have one thought in their rotting brains, take over the world, and destroy those that live in the process.

The problems our survivors face now are not the dead, but those that have also survived. In their own struggles to survive, gather food supplies and water they do not notice the second apocalypse beginning to build all around them. The Apocalypse of the Undead. With water, food and shelter in short demand they must concern themselves with surviving the balance of winter, stopping other bands of survivors from enslaving them, and in the coming spring try to escape into what had been the south lands to find a place where they can begin to rebuild their society. But strong men have seized control of Los Angeles and intend to take control of our group of survivors too. Enslave them and force them into servitude. If escape is possible, it may be a narrow escape.

… The hallway was nearly completely black. The hallway windows let in the light from outside, but it was very little. He sensed her before his hand brushed against her.

“Don’t you shoot me, Billy Jingo.” Beth whispered tightly…

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

Harlem ~ March 6th

Donita sat on a stool in the kitchen writing in her little notebook. Something was going on out in the world. Something, and the news was covering it up. The local news had been canceled. First at noon and now again at five. There had been no strange weather today, but the time was still off. Really off. The days were longer, no doubt about it at all.

There were fires burning out of control in the projects. No firemen had come. No cops. Nobody at all. There had been Earthquakes, or at least the ground had shaken. Explosions somewhere? Was it Earthquakes? It seemed like no one knew.

Donita didn’t know anyone who owned a phone. A real phone. Real phones were a thing of the past. But a real phone would have been good now, because something had happened to all the cell phones. The bars had dropped to nothing. How could that even be, she had asked Bear. There were towers all over the place! Nevertheless, they had ceased to function, and she now found herself wishing for a real phone.

Bear had rigged up a C.B. radio and they had listened to that for a while. Twice a voice bled through claiming to be from somewhere in Jersey, warning everyone to stay away. The voice claimed the city was on fire. Union City? North Bergen? Edgewater? They didn’t say, but it looked like all of Jersey was burning, just like parts of New York. There were gangs fighting for control of what was left here, probably the same there. The voice went on to say the dead were rising and walking the streets.

“Feds?” Donita asked.

“Feds landed and took over the streets?” Bear supplied.

Donita shook her head doubtfully. “I hope so, because it sounded like dead… The dead are walking the streets…” She trailed off and turned her eyes back to the windows; night coming, noise winding up in the projects, low hanging gray clouds that slipped past the windows…

She looked out on the city now. The fires were everywhere. Twice, a few days back, the planes had overflown the city. Bear had been down in the park trying to find out what was going on. She had been alone, jumping at every sound. 

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

Project Bluechip: Watertown NY
Complex C: Patient Ward
Test Subject: Clayton Hunter
Compound SS-V2765
Gabe Kohlson moved away from the monitors. “Heart rate is dropping, don’t you think…” He stopped as the monitor began to chime softly. Before he could get fully turned around the chiming turned into a strident alarm that rose and fell. “Dammit,” Kohlson said as he finished his turn.
“What is it,” David Johns wheeled his chair across the short space of the control room. His outstretched hands caught him at the counter top and slowed him at Kohlson’s monitor.
“Flat lined,” Kohlson said as he pushed a button on the wall to confirm what the doctors one level up already knew. Clayton Hunter was dead.
“I see it,” Doctor Ed Adams replied over the ceiling speakers. The staff called him Doctor Christmas for his long white beard and oversize belly. “Berty and I are on the way.”
“Lot of good that will do,” Johns muttered.
Kohlson turned to him. “Go on in… Do CPR if you want… They don’t pay me enough to do it. I don’t know what that shit is. Look at the way the Doc suits up. Clayton Hunter will be in rigor before anyone gets in there at all.”
“No argument,” Johns said. He wheeled back to his own monitor, called up an incident sheet and began to type.
“Me too,” Kohlson agreed. “Preserve the video, med and monitor data.” He punched a few buttons on his console and an interface for the medical equipment came up. He saved the last 48 hours of data, and then began to fill out his own incident report. These reports might never be seen by more than one person, maybe two if you counted the person that wrote it, Kohlson thought, but it would always be there. Classified. Top secret for the next hundred years or so. And he wondered about that too. Would it even be released after a long period? He doubted it. The shit they were doing here was bad. Shit you didn’t ever want the American public to know about. This incident report, along with the one Johns was doing, would probably get buried deep under some program listing that no one would ever suspect to look into. Or, maybe, it would get burned right along with Clayton Hunter’s body. He glanced up at the clock and then went back to typing.
“Uh… Call it 4:32 PM?” He asked.
“Works for me,” Johns agreed.
“I got 94 for the body,” Johns said.
“Yeah… Yeah, me too. That’s a fast drop, but we both got the same thing. 94 it is… No heart, no respiratory, dead as dog shit.”
“Dog shit,” Johns agreed. They both fell silent as they typed. A few moments later the doors to the observation room chimed, the air purifiers turned on with a high pitched whine, and they could both feel the air as it dragged past them and into the air ducts. The entire volume would be replaced and the room depressurized and then re-pressurized before the doors would open. And that would only happen after the air was tested and retested. A good twenty minutes away before anyone would step foot into the room with Clayton Hunter. …

 The streets had cracked open and had become rivers. The temperature was higher than it should have been. But that didn’t last.

By noon the rain stopped, and I kept expecting to see someone. Emergency workers… Power Company… Somebody. Even a neighbor. But I saw no one at all that day.

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

She had killed the old woman. She had no use for her at all. They had eaten so much of her flesh, that she was useless to them. Couldn’t sit up all the way. The boy had taken one arm off at the shoulder and carried it away like a prize…

It was about an hour and a half past sunset when Mike took over one of the perimeter guard posts from Susan. It was simply the far corner of the garage complex that overlooked a field and the highway beyond it.
“Quiet?” He asked.
“Pretty much. The dog… what’s that dog’s name anyway?” she asked.
“He doesn’t have one,” Mike admitted. “We, uh… we just call him The Dog, you know. He survived. He got through it same as us; he made it, you know. He’s The Dog.” Mike finished lamely.
“Oh. Sounds like a little guilt there, Mike. Maybe we should all get together and name it,” Susan suggested.
Mike nodded.
“Well, anyway… The Dog kept looking off towards the highway. He didn’t, like, bark or anything. I thought maybe deer, cows, something else. But with the meat drying, it could have drawn anything at all. The fires and so many people should be enough to keep anything away. Even if it’s wolves, they’ll probably stay away, right? I just thought you should know about it.”
Mike nodded. “Could be something, but you’re probably right: Most likely it’s nothing. I imagine the smell of the meat will draw every carnivore in the area. That’s okay as long as they don’t try to bother us. There will be plenty of scraps when we’re gone.”
Susan nodded and he watched her walk off into the darkness. He turned his eyes back out over the highway beyond the field.
After his eyes became accustomed to the darkness Mike could see the dark shapes of cattle grazing in the field, a few deer mixed in with them. He almost missed the radio call, almost wrote it off as one of their own, until he realized it wasn’t.
“Hello the camp,” the voice repeated.
Mike unclasped the radio from his belt and raised it to his mouth and spoke. “I guess you mean us,” he said more calmly than he felt.

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

As it turned out the phone line came in through the back of the house. It was cut, and as with the car, whoever had done it had thought maybe a little more overkill was in order. They had cut an additional ten feet or so of it, and had apparently taken it with them when they had left.

Jeremiah Edison sat on the tractor as it slipped and slid its way down the hill through the gray sheets of rain, he let out a sigh of relief once it reached the bottom. For a second there, he had been sure both he and the old tractor would end up in the creek, but God was smiling on him today.
He slipped the worn gearbox into neutral, and sat looking at the rush of muddy-brown water. The creek was a good four feet above the point of flooding. If he didn’t move the trees that were clogging the creek, and flooding it out, then he might as well just sit back and watch a couple more cows drown.
Jeremiah knew cows, pretty much anyhow, and every one that he and Maggie owned were just as stupid as any other cow he’d ever seen. The cows didn’t understand flooding, they didn’t understand how the water could weaken the banks, and so the big dummies just walked on down to the creek, just like any other day, and got swept away when the bank crumbled under their weight. Three days of rain and four dead cows, and though cows were stupid, they weren’t cheap.
Jeremiah sat in the pouring rain and stared at the creek. Normally, the creek was no more than eighteen inches deep at the most. Course normal wasn’t what it was today, he thought, and wishin’ it was wouldn’t make it so. It was his own damn fault, he reminded himself. Two of the trees that were clogging it had been there last summer, and hadn’t he promised Maggie he’d take ’em out before fall? He had, but he hadn’t, and so here he was in the pouring rain fixin’ to half kill himself to get ’em out.
Looked like the best way, Jeremiah thought, might be to try and snag the biggest one right from the bank. He squinted as he shielded his eyes to peer through the rain. One thing was for sure, sittin’ on the tractor and thinkin’ about it, wasn’t gonna get it. Reluctantly, Jeremiah climbed down off the tractor and edged closer to the bank. The rain was coming down hard, but the section he stood upon seemed solid enough. “Probably what the cows thought,” he muttered as he moved closer.
He walked back to the tractor, unwound a long section of chain from behind the seat, and walked back to the creek. The top of the bigger tree was sticking a good three feet over the bank, and he was glad that it was. He could see that the water was rising faster, and moving along quicker, and he had no wish to get any closer to it than he had to. Quickly, but carefully, he wound the chain around the tree and pegged the links with an old bolt to hold them. Looks good, and solid as well, he thought as he slipped the other end of the chain over the bucket. He genuinely didn’t want to try and turn the tractor around. In fact, he thought, as muddy as the ground was, he’d be damn lucky just to get it back up and away from the creek when he finished.
He gave an experimental tug at the chain, and then climbed back up on the tractor. Carefully, without grinding the gears any more than he surely had to, he shifted into reverse, played the clutch out slowly and brought up the slack in the chain.
“Well God?” He asked, looking skyward, “You keepin’ a watch down here? I could sure use a hand about now, Lord. Amen,” Jeremiah finished.
He let the clutch out a little further, playing the gas pedal as he did, and let the tractor go to work. The over-sized tires spun, caught, and the tractor began to slowly back up the steep bank, pulling the tree out of the muddy water as it did. Jeremiah released the breath he had been holding, and just as he did the chain snapped in two. Jeremiah barely had time to register what had happened when the old tractor flipped, crushing him beneath it.

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(Book -7)

Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

Jessie Stone
Somewhere in Illinois
Jessie bent forward and pushed the hair out of Frank’s eyes. The train was stopped, the tracks were gone, Jeremiah thought they were somewhere inside Illinois. Frank had slept through all of it, helped along by some morphine Jessie had given him to make sure he slept soundly.
She listened to the surrounding sounds, the train engine throbbing slowly, almost like a strange heartbeat, something alive. The murmuring of dozens of voices. The slow steady inhale and exhale of breath from Frank.
“Hey,” Jeremiah said as he bent beside her. “How’s our man doing?”
“I think he’s going to be fine, Jeremiah. I really do…” She reached into her pocket and pulled a few vials of morphine free. Annie moved up beside Jeremiah.
“This will keep him pain free,” Jessie said.
“I think you will do more for him than that can do,” Jeremiah said.
Jessie nodded. “I…” She shrugged and her eyes threatened to overflow. “I can’t explain it… I can’t be someone I am not… I care about him. This… This brought us together, made us close, but it is not a substitute for time… That is the closest I can come to the truth… What do you plan to do,” she asked, shifting the conversation to something safe.
“Find transportation… There is a small city nearby, maybe other survivors. Buses, trucks, something that can get us to Oklahoma.” His eyes stayed on her.
“I’ll take care of him,” Annie said. Her hand closed around Jessie’s own, and she shifted the vials into her hand.
Jessie smiled through her tears, reached into her other pocket and pulled a few syringes free, handing them to her as well. She began to speak and the tears came in a flood, she choked back the tears, fell silent and let the tears come. Annie leaned forward and hugged her as she cried. Jeremiah walked away and watched the black column of smoke lift into the sky from the engine. Annie shifted sideways and sat beside Jessie, pulling her head to her shoulder.
The wind picked up, blowing across the waiting cars, tossing long dead leaves into the air, and then it moved on as well: Sweeping across the land, searching out its old friend the sea. …

Willie tried again to move, but it was no use. He had no clear idea of how long he had been sitting in front of the terminal, but while he had sat there, his body had locked up tight. He could not budge it at all, and it made him feel claustrophobic, even though the control room was wide open. …

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

Arlene’s Journal
It’s the night before the six will leave to go back to the outside. I think of it that way… The outside. This place is something I have never had. So much love, so much caring, it overwhelmed me for the first little while. That and the other. Having to kill a man. But it was worse for those who stayed behind when we made our way to this place. If they had not stayed to fight the rest of us would not have been able to get away. David told me what it had been like for them. They had to kill too. They had to kill children that were controlled like puppets. Deadly puppets to be sure, but a puppet is a puppet… a slave.
And now we’re sending them back out again into a world that can’t be any better than it was. It’s worse in some ways. We didn’t have to deal with the dead. The radio tells us they have taken over most of the bigger cities. I just can’t imagine it. But We’re sending them out tomorrow, and all so that we can live a little better. Nothing that we absolutely have to have. We have everything we could ever need right here. But to live better.
To live better we need other things. It makes me wonder if we have changed all that much after all. I hope it is not a move toward the old society. I really hope not. Enough negativity though. They’re going. I voted yes too, and there are thing’s they will bring back that I asked for too.
On a lighter note I think almost every woman in the Nation is pregnant. I guess that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Me, Patty, Candace, Lilly, Annie. Jane, Alice and Amber are pretty sure. There are so many more people here. It seems almost like we grow every week. Maybe we do, come to think of it. Oh and now Molly too, and I wonder who the father is? But how would I ask Molly without sounding too nosy or even insensitive? Babies and more Babies, and thank God for them. They are our real crop. We joke about that, how in a few weeks it will be time to bring in the corn and that’s our crop, but our real business, our real crop, is babies.
Sandy and Susan are thinking about it too, only they both want to get pregnant. They’re trying to decide who goes first. God bless them.
Some times I think I am a long way from my roots. In another respect it seems to me that I have spent my entire life trying to get to this place… This condition… And I am so glad that I am here.
May God go with ours tomorrow as they go back to the outside. Keep them safe. Bring them right back to us. …

Molly turned back to the right just as a zombie sprang from the woods and ran straight at her. She fired and dropped low to the ground. The zombie collapsed. The silence was unnerving, and as she raised her eyes the biggest man she could recall ever having seen stepped from the trees. …

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet

The old Chevy idled roughly at the curb.

“Murder…” He waited. “I want you to go in… See what’s what…

“Joe you take the lead… He comes out, you go in… Cappie, you’re on the bag. Register to register… Get the money and get out fast.”

New York
The fires smoldered but no longer burned.
Donita walked down Eighth Avenue towards Columbus Circle. Behind her a silent army followed, numbering in the thousands. From the circle they would take the park.
There were thousands of the living camped out in the park. She could smell them on the air that flowed past her face as she walked. They had believed they were safe in their numbers. They had believed that nothing could touch them with their barricades. And for a time that had been true, but that time was passed now.
She had left rapid city and begun her walk with only twenty five faithful. Jeff, the big red haired man that she had taken months before, was still with her. One of the twins, and several boys who followed. The others had come to her as she walked. The small towns, and the dead cities along the way, added their contributions from those that had gathered in those places. Many waiting for her. There were dozens of cities they controlled now. Dotted along the route she had walked. Some she had called and set in a place of power with the ability to call more of their own to them. Some had been there waiting for her. All had known who she was, and all had bowed to her power.
She had wound up through the southern states, what had been left of Mobile, Alabama had fallen easily, from there they had taken Atlanta, Georgia, and then into the Carolinas, Columbus, Charlotte, Durham, and spreading beyond that into Richmond, Virginia. She had followed the scent of the living from there into the wilderness and looked down on their place of refuge from the ridge tops with her soldiers spread out around her. She had left reluctantly, but with the knowledge that she would be back.
A scatter of wrecked and long burned out vehicles partially blocked the entrance. A line of buses blocked the roads and pathways into the park. Sheet steel was welded over the windows. Holes burned through with Acetylene torches every few feet as gun ports.
She watched as the barrel of a rifle slipped through a ragged hole in the sheet steel. She looked around at her silent army once more and then thrust her head back, face staring up at the moon, and screamed into the darkening night. As a mass they all ran at the line of buses. …

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Dell Sweet : Wendell Sweet


Billy Jingo

It was even later. Once again April was curled into him with her head resting on his shoulder, but this time they were both back from another shower and under the covers.

“You think we’ll be okay?” April asked.

“Yeah… I think we have to move on. We might have to get another vehicle after today…… Besides, we need one that’s not in our names,” Billy added.

“What about that Neo guy… You look a little like him, if you get it right they would never guess it wasn’t you. I mean make yourself up to look like him, you see?” April asked.

Billy nodded. “It could work, but we should wait until we’re out of this state. Just in case. That way no one can remember seeing us… Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Mexico… There are so many nice places down there. You can live like a queen on almost nothing too. We got to get rid of the pot and the heavy stuff too before we go down there,” April said. “They are not kidding if you get caught with that kind of shit over there… Prison there is not like here… You better have family or someone to pay money to feed you or you’ll die… Bad.”

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America The Dead Survivors Stories One Kindle Edition

by W. G. Sweet (Author), Wendell G Sweet (Author)

The public had known that there was a meteor on a near collision course with the Earth. The spin doctors had assured the public it would miss by several thousands of miles. Paid off the best scientists in some cases, but in other cases they had found that even the scientists were willing to look past facts if their own personal spin put a better story in the mix. A survivable story. They had spun their own stories without prodding.
The truth was that the meteor might miss, it might hit, it might come close, a near miss, but it wouldn’t matter because a natural chain of events was taking place that would make a meteor impact look like small change.
The big deal, the bigger than a meteor deal, was the earthquakes that had already started and would probably continue until most of the civilized world was dead or dying. Crumbled into ruin from super earthquakes and volcanic activity that had never been seen by modern civilization. And it had been predicted several times over by more than one group and hushed up quickly when it was uncovered. The governments had known. The conspiracy theorists had known. The public should have known, but they were too caught up in world events that seemed to be dragging them ever closer to a third world war to pay attention to a few voices crying in the wilderness. The public was happier watching television series about conspiracies rather than looking at the day-to-day truths about real conspiracies. The fact was that this was a natural course of events. It had happened before and it would happen again in some distant future.
So, in the end it had not mattered. In the end the factual side of the event had begun to happen. The reality, Major Weston liked to think of it. And fact was fact. You couldn’t dispute fact. You could spin it, and that was the way of the old world, spinning it, but the bare facts were just that: Bare facts.
The bare facts were that the Yellowstone Caldera had erupted just a few hours before. The bare facts were that the earth quakes had begun, and although they were not so bad here in northern New York, in other areas of the country, in foreign countries, third world countries, the bare facts of what was occurring were devastating: Millions dead, and millions more would die before it was over. And this was nothing new. The government had evidence that this same event had happened many times in Earth’s history. This was nothing new at all, not even new to the human race. A similar event had killed off most of the human race some seventy-five thousand years before. …

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America The Dead Survivor Stories Two Kindle Edition

by W. G. Sweet (Author), Dell Sweet  (Author)

America The Dead Survivor Stories Two contains books three and four of the series.

Manhattan: Donita’s Notebook March 1st (Night) Quakes, at least three. Warmed up fast, and all the dirty snow that was piled along the streets has melted. Torrential rains. Thunder and lightening in the snow storm that came after sunset. Didn’t last long; turned back to rain. Parts of the projects are burning. Jersey is burning. The sky is red-orange, everything across the river is on fire. No one has come.

War At Home one: Gabe Kohlson moved away from the monitors. “Heart rate is dropping, don’t you think…” He stopped as the monitor began to chime softly. “Dammit,” Kohlson said as he finished his turn. “What is it,” David Johns wheeled his chair across the short space of the control room. “Flat lined,” Kohlson said as he pushed a button on the wall to confirm what the doctors already knew. Clayton Hunter was dead.


America The Dead Survivor Stories Three Kindle Edition

by W. G. Sweet (Author), Dell Sweet  (Author)

America The Dead Survivor Stories three contains books five and six of the Series.War at Home two: Donita: The hunger was terrible, all consuming, and it came in crashing waves. The impulse to feed seemed to be the only coherent thought she had. It was hard to think around, hard to think past. It was all she could do not to rush from the trees, find the smell that tempted her and consume it. Eat it completely. Leave nothing at all…Zombie Fall: Arlene’s Journal: It’s the night before the six will leave to go back to the outside. I think of it that way… The outside. This place overwhelmed me for the first little while. That and having to kill a man. But it was worse for those who stayed behind when we made our way to this place. If they had not stayed to fight the rest of us would not have been able to get away…

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America The Dead Survivor Stories Four Kindle Edition

by W. G. Sweet (Author), Dell Sweet  (Author)

5.0 out of 5 stars    1 rating

America The Dead contains books seven and eight of the series. While seven was released, eight was not and can only be purchased in this volume as there are no plans to release it as a single book.

The Zombie Plagues: Donita walked down Eighth Avenue towards Columbus Circle. Behind her a silent army followed, numbering in the thousands. From the circle they would take the park. There were thousands of the living camped out in the park. She could smell them on the air that flowed past her face as she walked. They had believed they were safe in their numbers, and for a time that had been true, but no more…

The Fold Book One: Doctor Jessie Stone moved through the clinic quickly, her eyes falling on the many faces: Mothers, children, all waiting. She passed the desk, nodded at Vera who held her eyes for a moment.
“Give me five minutes, Vera, then start sending them…” She caught the concern in Vera’s eyes. “One in particular?” She asked.
“Little girl… Infection, maybe pneumonia,” she shrugged. “Sounded bad to me.”
Jessie nodded. “Then send her in first, Vera.” She pushed her way through the doors that lead to the back area and shrugged into a gown before grabbing the first chart off the board and beginning to read.


America The Dead Survivor Stories Five Kindle Edition

by W. G. Sweet (Author), Dell Sweet  (Author)

The city is a refuge… Until they try to leave it…
The trucks stopped a half mile away, and for several minutes there was absolute silence. Just as the sun began to sink, the first shots came. The battle began.
Frank, Jessie, and Jeremiah, had been standing at the front of a line of trees, barely inside them, watching the trucks in the fading light. Jessie heard the crack of the rifle shot, muffled by distance, just an instant before Frank fell to the ground.
Horror struck, she grabbed his hands and dragged him further into the woods. Even as she released his hands, and bent down beside him sobbing, she knew that he was badly wounded. The single bullet had taken him squarely in the chest, and he was losing far too much blood.
Jeremiah hurried to her side, after he realized how badly Frank had been injured. Still, it didn’t fully hit him until he dropped down beside him on the ground. Around them bullets whizzed through the trees, and some of their own began to return fire. Between them they managed to sit him up, resting his back against one of the moss covered tree trunks. Sitting up helped somewhat, his breathing did even out, but a huge amount of blood began to seep from his wounded chest.
Jessie was sure he was going to speak. Convinced he would, when his eyes suddenly slipped shut, and he sagged back down to the ground. She tried to pull him back up. “No,” she cried, as she tugged at his body. But he was too heavy, she couldn’t move him, and he finally slipped all the way to the ground.
Jimmy had run forward when the first shot had rang out, and Gary had been about to join him when he had seen Frank fall. He too had hurried to his side. As he watched, Sandy Watson gently pushed Jessie aside and began to work feverishly on Frank. Sandy was their only hope for Frank, he knew. She knew a little, but the wound looked mortal, and Gary became convinced that Frank was going to die. Might already be dead, he told himself, and if Frank died, was Jessie was going to fall apart? He was surprised when she suddenly stood, angrily brushed at the tears that streamed from her eyes, and headed back toward the front of the trees. Gary followed, Jeremiah behind him. It wasn’t fair, Gary thought, it had happened too damn fast. He hadn’t even been able to say good bye. None of them had. Tears stained his cheeks, as he lifted his own rifle and began to fire at the trucks. Jeremiah stood beside him, Jessie to his other side, and as the light began to fade completely they did their best to take out as many of the others as they could.
The others, whoever they were, had the advantage, Jeremiah thought. They had the trucks to hide behind, and he was sure that a rifle scope could pick them out easily between the trees. He did his best to melt into the tree beside him, concentrated on their heads, and whenever one popped into his sights he squeezed the trigger.
Jessie was carrying a fully automatic machine gun, and two spare two hundred round clips. She sighted on one of the trucks and watched as the truck began to be chewed apart. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release, the truck began to resemble a junk yard relic within seconds.
Gary mowed down the occupants of that truck when they tried to flee, and had just sighted the last one, squeezed the trigger and watched him fall, when he heard Jimmy call out a short distance away. He turned quickly, his eyes searching frantically, but it was next to impossible to see in the shadows. He started to turn back when one of the bullets caught him. No sound at all, just a brief stinging sensation. He stumbled backwards, tried to think about what could have possibly happened, and then slumped to the ground…


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