Zombie Attack! Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Devan Sagliani

  We parked about a hundred feet from the border. John got out and signaled for us to follow without saying another word.

  “Stay close together,” Tank growled as we climbed over the sides of the Jeep. “And keep your mouth shut.” He stared at me specifically before turning his back to me. My sword was only a few feet away from me and I needed it.

  I ought to rip it off his back and give him a piece of my mind, I thought.

  Instead, I followed the group to a staging area outlined with sand bags where a bunch of armed guards were hunkered down with walkie talkies watching the other side of the road. One of them turned around and saw John. He bolted up and ran to him with his hand out.

  “No one told me you were coming,” the man began, but John waved his concerns away with an easy gesture.

  “Don’t worry, Peter,” he said. “This isn’t a formal visit. Just taking some new friends on a little tour of our fine town is all.”

  Peter turned to us and waved.

  “Welcome to New Lompoc,” he crowed with an earnest smile. Those were his last words before the explosion knocked him off his feet.

  Chapter Nine

  It was like it was all happening in slow motion while Peter was waving and saying hello to us. Dreamlike, a bottle somersaulted head over end above him, the glass and fire catching reflections of the sun, sparkling and drawing our attention to it. It arced high over Peter like a satellite in orbit with no hope of ever returning to Earth. The next instant, it came racing back down, the weight of the fuel and the heavy glass bottle dragging it bottom first toward the top of Peter’s head. For a brief moment it seemed like it would smash into his skull altogether. Our facial expressions went from disinterested to horror before his wondering eyes.

  Poor guy doesn’t have a clue what’s about to hit him, I thought.

  As the bottle hurtled toward him it spun less, the force of gravity correcting it until it was right side up with the thick bottom rushing down to kiss the asphalt. The flaming rag atop the sealed neck merrily danced like a wild-eyed, redheaded seductress, lost in the epiphany of the impending destruction it wantonly foretold.

  Before any of us could call out to warn Peter, the Molotov cocktail smashed down next to him, narrowly missing the top of his head. There was a loud explosion as it burst, the flames greedily licking at the embarrassment of riches bestowed, a drooling puddle of pure fuel. Instantly Peter was knocked off his feet. Fiery hell shot up and engulfed his whole body as he screamed in pain.

  In the distance, a man dressed all in blue stood laughing. At his feet were several more Molotov style cocktails waiting to be ignited by his Zippo lighter. Several men rushed to Peter, taking off their shirts and jackets and holding him down to put out the fire consuming him. Peter wailed in agony, panicking and having to be repetitively told to roll over and to not stand up.

  Stop, drop, and roll, I thought. This is why they used to try to teach us that in school.

  The sound of gunfire cracking off took us by surprise. I looked up to see Joel aiming at the man responsible for this tragedy and firing away.

  “No!” John cried out. “Cease fire!”

  Joel wasn’t listening. His face was twisted up with hatred.

  Something inside of him must have finally snapped!

  “Put that gun down now! That is an order!”

  “Come and get me, cracker!” The gang member loudly crowed at us, then turned and dashed toward a cluster of nearby buildings.

  Instead of lowering his weapon and obeying orders, Joel charged forward. He cleared the barricade and began running after the culprit at a full sprint, determined not to let him get away.

  “Stop him!” John ordered to Bruiser.

  Bruiser nodded. He pulled out both his guns and rushed past the cars toward Joel.

  Several men roughly patted Peter to make sure the fire was out. He moaned and shook in shock. Most of his hair and skin were burned away. There was a good chance that he wasn’t going to make it, even if they did get him medical care. I could understand why Joel had been upset, but that didn’t mean he should rush into unfamiliar territory and risk his life.

  For all we know this is a trap, I thought.

  No sooner were the words formed in my mind than the yelling and shooting began. The man responsible for burning up Peter had turned the corner at a full dash with Joel in hot pursuit and Bruiser not far behind him. A second later, five Unity thugs had come running toward them, guns drawn, shooting wildly.

  “Do something,” Tom screamed.

  “We can’t,” John protested. “If my men open fire they might hit your brother or Bruiser.”

  Joel just missed getting shot in the face by throwing himself at the ground. Bruiser wasn’t so lucky. Being a big guy, he had a lot of momentum going as he ran full tilt to try to catch Joel. By the time Joel ducked down to avoid the muzzle being pointed at his face, it was too late for Bruiser. He didn’t even know what hit him. The gun went off and the top of Bruiser’s head came apart in a spray of blood, hair, and skin. He was dead instantly. Bruiser’s full limp weight came crashing down on top of the gang member who killed him, pinning Joel’s legs to the ground at the same time.

  “Joel,” Tom yelled in panic. “Get up and run!”

  Joel frantically struggled to free himself, eventually pulling his legs out from under Bruiser’s nearly headless corpse. Shots rang out from my right side as John’s men took out two more Unity Gang thugs, causing the rest of the ambush squad to retreat back behind the building. All we needed was for Joel to get back over the line.

  “Why aren’t they shooting anymore?” I asked out loud, but no one answered me.

  I looked at the buildings surrounding the intersection for signs of eyes in the windows but couldn’t make out any.

  “Hurry,” Tom hollered.

  Joel began to limp back toward us. The man who had thrown the explosive concoction brazenly walked out from behind his safe spot, pointing his gun at Joel.

  “Behind you,” John cried out, but it was too late.

  Before Joel could turn and see what was happening, the man fired off two shots at him. The first pierced through his upper leg and came out the front of his jeans, covering them in blood. He faltered and began to pitch forward. He put his hands out to brace his fall, like a little kid. The second shot seemed to cut across Joel, entering somewhere in his back and coming out his chest. A tiny spray of blood came from between his lips as he fell flat to the ground.

  Shots rang out from all sides as Joel fell out of the line of fire. The gang member jerked as the volley of bullets pierced him as if a live wire of electricity was running through him. He fell over, twitched briefly, then went still.

  Tom wailed in disbelief at the horror unfolding before him. Tank and another patrol member held him back. John rubbed his brow and shook his head in disgust. Joel’s head moved as he started to get up, but he fell back to the ground. Then he began to slowly crawl toward us.

  “Let go of me!” Tom shouted. “We’ve got to go help him!”

  “It’s not safe,” John howled.

  At that moment, almost as if to back up his warning, a pack of four zombies came wandering out from down the street. The air rumbled as the sound of motorcycle engines roaring to life besieged our senses. We heard loud yelling and hooting as the bikers fled the scene.

  “Where did they come from?” Benji asked in surprise.

  “Unity Gang probably brought them with them,” John yelled over the crackle of gunfire that ensued. “They keep ‘em as pets and fight them. I told you it was bad.” John turned and stared at me.

  It was too much to take in at once. Things had gone from bad to plain psychotic. Joel was still inching forward, pulling himself along. He wasn’t going to make it. What started out as four or five zombies was now easily up to thirty. John glanced around. They were coming out of buildings in packs. The gunfire wasn’t doing much to slow them down. Their bodies seemed to absorb the rounds. Only a direct shot to the he
ad would stop them from advancing.

  “Get back in the Jeep!” John yelled. “We’re leaving now!”

  “No!” Tom cried out in protest. “We have to save Joel! We have to save my brother!”

  “It’s too late for that,” John hollered back. “Now get in or get left behind.”

  Benji scrambled up into the Jeep. He curled up in a ball in the backseat, keeping his head down and covering his ears. The sound of gunfire was all around us, like a chorus of exploding high grade fireworks. I followed him in, taking the passenger seat. John started the Jeep and put it in reverse. Tank dragged Tom, desperately kicking and screaming, to the car.

  “Get in or I’ll knock you out,” Tank warned him.

  Tom tried to pull himself free but Tank grabbed him by the arm and yanked him around, delivering a hard punch to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. Tom doubled over and Tank wasted no time throwing him in the back of the Jeep. Tank was only part way in the vehicle when John took off, slamming the pedal to the floor and leaving a trail of rubber behind.

  Tom lay next to Benji, crying mournfully. Tank didn’t say anything. I opened my mouth to speak, but John cut me off.

  “Not a single word,” he growled, his voice low like a coiled snake ready to strike.

  I shut my mouth. We rode in silence until we got back to the first neighborhood. John pulled up in front of his house and shut the engine off.

  “Everyone inside the house now,” he demanded. There was no longer any pretense of friendliness about him. We climbed out of the car and stood staring at John, waiting for further instructions. He looked like he was about to explode.

  Now we’re seeing the real John, I thought. A coward who leaves fallen men behind.

  My look must have said all of that and more because John suddenly turned on me.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you for one day,” he said. “Tank, see to it that these brats are secured until I decide what to do with them.”

  “My pleasure,” Tank replied.

  “Lock them in the secret room and put a guard on them,” John barked. “I’ve got some business to take care of and I don’t want them causing any more trouble or even accidentally getting anyone else killed.”

  Before Tank could reply John floored it, taking off down the street.

  “Well, ladies,” Tank began with a slimy grin. “You heard the man. Let’s go.”

  He marched us upstairs to the room covered with Nazi memorabilia. I hadn’t bothered to tell Benji and Tom about the decor. Their surprise was as genuine and deep as mine when I first saw it.

  “You like it?” Tank asked. “I decorated it myself.”

  “You did this?” Benji asked in surprise.

  “Yep,” he proudly responded. “I’m a bit of a collector, or at least I was before Z-Day. John’s house burned down during the riots so I offered him mine to set up headquarters in. There is some reading material you can flip through while you wait to see what John plans to do with you.”

  “You can’t keep us locked in here like prisoners,” I feebly objected.

  “That’s where you are wrong,” Tank corrected me. “We can and we will. Consider yourselves lucky. If it were up to me I’d just take you out back and shoot you for what happened back there.”

  And if it were up to me I’d chop off both your hands and leave you to the zoms, I thought.

  “My brother is still out there,” Tom cried out suddenly. “We have to go back for him.”

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this kid, but by now your brother is either dead or craving some serious brains. It’s his own damn fault too. I never seen anything like that before. It was like he had a death wish.” Tank spit out a string of curse words that made Benji blush.

  Tom’s jaw clenched and I could see he was plotting how to repay Tank for his insult.

  “That’s his twin brother,” I said. “Show some sensitivity.”

  “I thought you two hated each other,” Tank replied.

  “We didn’t hate each other,” I fumed. “We disagreed. Besides that’s no reason to leave him to zombies. How would you feel if someone did that to one of your family members, then laughed about it?” An evil look came over Tank’s face, like a dark cloud throwing a moody shadow across his eyes and forehead.

  “I’ve known Bruiser almost my whole life,” he said in an even, steady voice. “He was better than a brother to me. He’s saved my life countless times. Now because of your idiot brother’s actions, he’s dead.”

  “Sorry,” I offered as guilt flooded over me.

  “Save your apologies for John,” Tank roared, his tone hard as nails. “I don’t give a crap what you children think. Just remember this, you ever talk that way to me again and I will twist your head off like a dinner chicken. Now sit down and shut the hell up.”

  Tank shoved us deeper into the room and slammed the doors. He locked them from the outside.

  Of course, I thought, picking myself up from the ground and testing the handle. The secret room locks from the outside. That’s why John wanted to keep us here. Tank wouldn’t want people just wandering in and discovering his Nazi obsession. Before Z-day he kept it under lock and key. After the world came apart, and he was helping to run a white paramilitary splinter group that was fighting off mostly minority gang members, it wouldn’t matter if people knew he was a bigot.

  “It’s locked from the outside,” I explained without them asking.

  “What do we do now?” Tom wondered, pacing back and forth and chewing on his fingernails.

  “Nothing we can do. We wait and try to come up with a plan.”

  “We have to help Joel,” Tom reiterated. “We have to go back for him.”

  “I agree,” I said. I looked over at Benji and he nodded. “First chance we get we have to make a break for it. We’ll grab Joel on the way out of town and never look back.”

  “How are we going to get out of Lompoc when the Unity Gang controls the highway out?” Tom asked. “You saw what they’re like. They’re animals who killed my brother for no reason at all. It’s not like we can just explain that we’re not part of their war and they’ll let us pass through.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we will find a way.”

  I sat down with my back to the doors and closed my eyes to think. Things were not going according to plan at all. Somehow I knew they were going to get worse before they got better. I felt guilty about Joel’s death, even though it wasn’t my fault. Yeah I didn’t like the guy. He kept challenging me. He kept picking fights for no reason. He was a pain in the butt from the minute he saved us at Vandenberg. That didn’t mean I wanted him dead, did it? No. It didn’t.

  I was exhausted from the events of the day and my mind was starting to play tricks on me. I was going to leave Joel and Tom behind. That’s the truth. I was going to grab Benji and sneak out of town the first chance I got. Now I was going to have to risk my life again to try to help Tom. But how? Nothing came to mind but more problems when I asked myself that question.

  Without even realizing it, I drifted off to sleep again.

  Chapter Ten

  The sound of the door unlocking woke me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I scrambled to my feet and hurried over to the bed where Benji had passed out. Tom sat in the corner staring at the wall, as catatonic as Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It had grown dark outside. I quickly scanned the room for signs of a clock. All I saw were Nazi symbols and swastikas.

  Abruptly, the door swung open and Tank stood there looking as intimidating as ever. “Rise and shine, kiddies,” he sang out condescendingly. “It’s dinner time.”

  The cute girl I had seen earlier in the day stepped out from behind him with a tray full of soup bowls. She walked into the room and set one down in front of each of us. The contents looked like piping hot beef stew with a square of yellow corn bread on top. When she set the bowl down in front of me, she stared deeply into my eyes for a long time. Up close she was even more beautiful
than I had imagined. I was speechless. Then without a word she turned and marched quickly out of the room.

  Another woman I didn’t recognize came from behind her and gave us all large glasses of water. I gulped half my glass down at once. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.

  “Easy there runt,” Tank scolded. “You’re only getting one bathroom break, so take it slow, amigo.”

  “Where’s John?” I demanded. “I want to talk to him.”

  “And people in hell want ice water,” he said in a mocking voice. “In case you hadn’t noticed, John’s a pretty busy guy. He’ll get to you when he has time, princess. Now eat your chow and shut your yap.”

  Tank slammed the door shut and locked it again.

  “You think it’s safe to eat?” Benji delicately turned over his portion with a large spoon, like it might explode at any second.

  “I guess so,” I said, taking a cautious first bite. It tasted good, really good. “Tastes fine to me.”

  “What if he poisoned it?”

  “I think if John wanted to kill us he would just take us out and shoot us,” I mused.

  “Yeah,” Benji agreed. “Or let Tank twist our heads off like chickens.”

  I turned and looked at him in shock. He laughed. I tried to fight it back, but soon I was laughing too.

  Things have just gotten ridiculous so fast, I thought. I looked over to see that Tom wasn’t eating. He’d turned himself more toward the wall and was muttering under his breath. He was taking what happened to Joel pretty hard. It made me stop giggling.

  “That’s not funny,” I said, spooning in a few bites. “Eat up. We’re gonna need our strength.”

  We chowed down in silence for a while. When I reached the bottom of the bowl I found something unexpected. At first I thought it was a seasoning leaf. I dug at it with my spoon to unearth it from the soil-colored sludge of the stew and saw that it was a piece of plastic. I pulled it out to reveal someone had stuck a tiny plastic bag at the bottom of my bowl, but that wasn’t all. There was paper inside.