Zombie Attack! Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Devan Sagliani

  “Bet that threw a wrench into your big plans,” Felicity taunted, trying to bait her into contradicting herself or giving up more information. I could tell by the calm way Sonya carried herself that it wasn't going to work. She was only going to give us enough to get us to go along, if that. We'd have to make up our own minds from there on whether or not we could put our faith in her.

  “If anything, I thought it would make you trust me,” Sonya protested. “Why would I run into the arms of the people who are trying to set me up for murder and have me killed, other than to save your husbands life? You've got me all figured out? Tell me that.”

  “People do a lot of strange things when they're fleeing for their lives,” Felicity smirked. “Maybe you thought you could slip into Freedom Town and blend in, force us to let our guard down so you could continue whatever your real plan is. How should I know?”

  “I risked my life for him,” she said, sounding hurt for the first time. “I could have left him there, but I stuck my neck out to make sure no harm came to him.”

  “So what? You want a thank you? Is that it?”

  “A little appreciation would be nice, sure,” Sonya fired back. “If that's not too much to ask. It's what normal people do when someone saves their life.”

  I fought back the urge to interrupt again, still stinging from my last rebuke.

  “What's normal?” Felicity laughed. She waved her arms about for a moment, looking like she'd lost all sanity. I gazed around to see if anyone else was watching this tense standoff, but no one was. They were all lost in their own personal performances, like a crowded stage full of bit actors all fighting for the spotlight, and good-naturedly trying to outcompete one another. A roar of laughter and applause exploded to the left of us, as a man dressed like a cowboy finished an impressive rope trick. The girls didn't seem to notice. As far as they were concerned, they were the only two people in the world in that moment.

  “You tell me,” Sonya said, softening for the first time as she saw the pain in Felicity's eyes. “Go on.”

  “Normal is waking up to the screams of your favorite student, while the monster that used to be one of your husbands closest friends rips her to pieces less than a hundred feet from where you sleep at night,” Felicity began. A single tear streaked silently down her face. “Normal is worrying every second of every day that each time you say goodbye to the people you love might be the last time you see them. Normal is finding out that there is a price on your husband’s head, that outlaws and bikers are hunting you down for the honor of cashing in on a reward, that the people you've trusted to protect you all along now think you're working in concert with the enemy to destroy everything you've worked so hard to build! That's what's normal now. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't trust you or believe that your intentions are good, just because you say so. And until you're willing to be open and honest about who sent you and why they sent you, I don't see any reason to change my mind.”

  A nearby gaggle of onlookers burst into applause as Felicity ran out of wind. She flushed red and opened her mouth to speak, holding her index finger as if to announce her first point of defense, but they were already gone, pulled into an improv of a panhandler fighting off several bloodthirsty Indians that had just begun running up the path. Sonya saw the frustration in Felicity burning off to reveal what was hiding underneath – fear. Felicity looked terrified for a split second, then seemed to regain control of her emotions as she turned back to face Sonya.

  “I know it's been hard for you,” Sonya started, but Felicity wasn't ready to accept pity from her enemy for fear of letting down her guard.

  “Don't patronize me. You don't know the first thing about it! Or us, for that matter!”

  “I guess you'll just have to ride it out then,” Sonya replied with a resigned look. “You'll see for yourself that I'm telling the truth soon enough.”

  “Why doesn't that make me feel any better?”

  “I know you're probably not going to believe this either,” Sonya responded, looking sad. “But I was really looking forward to meeting you. I had this image in my mind, you know, of us getting along, sharing stories like sisters.”

  Felicity crossed her arms stubbornly and snorted, causing Sonya to falter, but Sonya picked back up again where she'd left off, doing her best to hide her hurt feelings.

  “Things got all mixed up when the Alphas grabbed Xander,” Sonya explained. “I had to act fast so he wouldn't be harmed any more than he already had been.”

  I reached up and rubbed the back of my head, feeling the small bump from where I'd been clubbed. It hurt to press on it, sending a dull wave of pain crashing over my forehead and making me wince.

  “We may be stuck together for the time being, but that doesn't make us allies. Stay away from me and my husband.”

  Felicity grabbed my hand, acknowledging my presence for the first time since she'd lashed out at me. She pulled me away, off toward the bustling saloon in the distance. I jogged to keep up with her angry pace, waiting until she'd relaxed her grip to pull my hand free. The closer we got to the saloon the louder it got until we reached the door, where a deafening roar was held back by two wooden boards on hinges. Felicity shot through it without a second thought, eager to join the sea of distractions inside. I turned and looked back at Sonya. She stared at us with a quixotic smile before a band of jugglers crossed our path, obscuring her from view.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Inside the cramped space of the saloon another world existed, like something out of one of Benji's old comic books. Adults in various costumes hooted and sang and danced with one another, laughing and crying and arguing the whole time. There was a bar with volunteers working overtime to serve up some kind of bright yellow fluid that glowed an eerie shade of neon when the light caught it. Hudson, the Marshal, was waiting for his slug of the toxic-looking stuff at the end of the bar. He was dressed in his best Wyatt Earp costume, but instead of cowboy boots he had on comfortable-looking slip-on Vans, white and blue, with a fierce-looking wave crashing dead in the middle of his toes. He had a foot up on the rail and was leaning his body on the heavy oak, spinning a yarn for a very bored old man in a dusty prospectors outfit. Mid-sentence he turned his head, saw us, and did a double take. His face lit up, as he abandoned his obviously relieved friend, and stumbled toward us with excitement shining in his glassy eyes.

  “You made it!” he roared, sloshing some of what was in his cup onto his outfit.

  “What is that stuff?” I asked.

  “Prickly pear cactus fruit beer,” he replied, absentmindedly brushing it off his soiled costume. He began to rub at a particularly stubborn stain spreading across his stomach, but it was no use. The liquid had already gone through the fabric, and there was no getting it out. He gave up with a shrug and turned his attention fully back to us. “We sweeten it with honey when we can get our hands on it, or stevia from the herb garden when we can't.”

  “I thought you said alcohol wasn't allowed in Gold Strike?” Felicity questioned, looking nervous at the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of drunks at a bar.

  It makes sense, I thought. She's technically a recovering addict. The last thing she wants to worry about is being peer pressured by a bunch of drunks into relapsing.

  I gazed around at the merry revelers, wondering how many of them would insist on doing shots with the famous Felicity Jane, then turned my attention back to her. She looked anxious, but also a little excited. It had been a long time since we'd seen anything like a celebration, at least since our wedding day at the chapel on the base, and even then it wasn't as spirited as the saloon was turning out to be. I knew there was a part of her that wanted to join in the fun, to cut loose for one night and not worry about little things like being eaten alive by a crowd of walking corpses or having to foil some plot against us by dark forces. I totally understood. I felt the exact same way. I was even curious to taste a sip of the cactus beer, once we'd settled in. For now, it was just important that she felt
safe.

  “Under normal circumstances, it isn't,” Hudson explained, sounding serious for a moment before knocking back the rest of the contents of his cup. He smiled genially at us. “But during the festival we tend to look the other way. People have a need deep down inside their guts, sewn right into them, to cut loose from time to time. That's just nature.”

  “What if something goes wrong while your town is plastered?” I asked. “How will you defend yourselves?”

  I wasn't trying to play devil's advocate, or trying to curry favor with my wife; although after how things had just gone between Felicity and Sonya I figured I could stand to let her know I was on her side, ready to defend her. The truth was, I didn't think it was safe to have a town full of intoxicated people with no warriors on watch. I understood as well as anyone the need for some kind of release. It was a question I had struggled with back in Freedom Town, especially on nights I knew the moonshiners were sneaking around.

  “Cactus beer doesn't have much kick in it,” he said with a wink. “It's not much stronger than your average nonalcoholic beer was back before Z Day. You'd have to drink a whole mess of the stuff to catch a buzz that would last more than an hour. If you make it into mead, now that is a different story.”

  “Still,” I said, trying to knock down the defensive tone in my voice, “you gotta stay prepared for emergencies, don't you?”

  He leaned forward and clumsily put his hand on my shoulder, hiccuping as he spoke.

  “Relax,” he said, long and slow. I could smell the fermented cactus on his breath; he was that close to me now. “It's all under control. I know you've been through a whole heck of a lot before you got here, but you're safe now. You can chill out now. Take a load off. Give yourself a break. It's not good to live in constant fear, son. The mind can't handle it. Every now and then you need to check out for a bit, let yourself go all Hotel California, if you know what I mean, as a preventive measure so you don't lose your sanity.”

  I turned my head to see Felicity taking in his words. She seemed to agree. I could see the tension melting away from her neck and shoulders, as the smile bloomed on her face.

  It's not his inebriated manner that's convincing her, I thought, it's the truth of what he's saying. We've been going so hard for so long, with no room for error. We've paid a heavy price for making the tiniest of mistakes. We've become anxious, scared, defensive, and closed off – but we've had to do that to survive! We haven't had a choice. Maybe now we finally can let go, even just for one night, and allow ourselves to recover.

  I turned back to Hudson at the same time he took his hand off my shoulder.

  “Besides, we've got a state of the art warning system…remember? We'll know way in advance if something is headed our way; we’ll have more than enough time to do something about it. This ain't our first rodeo, kid, if you know what I mean.”

  He gave us both a big, slow, deliberate wink. Felicity let out a laugh at his ridiculous show. She hugged him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Hudson looked at me in embarrassment. He was totally taken off guard by Felicity’s sudden show of emotion. He reached up and held his hat on his head with his right hand, as if he was worried it might just fly off against his will.

  “What was that for?” he stuttered.

  “For everything,” Felicity said.

  Before he could recover, Bad Bart came up behind us, grabbing both Felicity and me in a big bear hug, and lifting us off the ground.

  “You made it!” he howled, squeezing us with so much genuine happiness I thought my ribs might crack. Just as quickly as he'd swooped us up, he set us back on our feet again. I panted for a moment, catching my breath. He patted me on the back, gently this time, looking concerned.

  “You okay, Xander?”

  “Yeah,” I managed at last, pulling deep breaths into my lungs again. “You just surprised me is all.”

  “Sorry about that, buddy,” he said, looking nervously from Hudson to Felicity.

  He's huge, I thought, doing my best to recover and hide my shame at being snuck up on, even by an ally. It's a good thing he's on our side. He'd make a nightmare of an enemy fighting one on one, and a terrifying zombie.

  “Xander?” I looked up at Felicity and cleared my throat.

  “I'm fine,” I protested. “Just swallowed, that’s all.”

  “Good,” Hudson said, jumping back in. “Now who wants a cup of Gold Strike’s finest? My treat!”

  “I'll pass,” Felicity said, almost too quickly.

  “Me too,” Bad Bart added. “I like to keep sharp, just in case trouble comes a-knocking.” He gave me a look.

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, actually feeling a little relieved to know someone wouldn't be imbibing.

  “I wouldn't mind taking you for a whirl on the dance floor though,” Bart said, holding his hand out to Felicity. I heard the sound of a banjo doing a solo, then another joined in. Bart and Felicity turned to me at the same time. “If that's okay with her husband, of course.”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “Sounds like fun.”

  Felicity practically squealed at the thought of being able to cut loose. She'd told me more than once about how she used to love to go dancing back before Z Day hit. And about how she'd hated having paparazzi following her around clubs, so she had dressed up in disguise and gone out to regular clubs from time to time, actually waiting in line with everyone else and paying to get in. It felt good to see her finally getting the chance to get some of that out, even in this unexpected way. She took Bad Bart's hand and they moved toward the sound of the music. The crowd parted slightly for them, revealing the full band. There were indeed two banjo players as well as a violin, an acoustic guitar, a washboard, and a guy with a jug. People gathered around, as Bad Bart and Felicity Jane set to dancing a jig. Soon others were joining in. A lanky guy in a red lumberjack's flannel, with a thin, patchwork beard, began calling out an old square dance song. Soon they were all swapping partners every few moves, slapping their thighs, and shouting out along with the announcer. Felicity's face beamed with joy. She seemed to radiate that same quality she'd had when we first met. It was amazing, like watching a wilted flower coming back to life before my eyes.

  “Looks like she fits right in,” Hudson said, “doesn't she?”

  “It sure does,” I agreed, thinking about what she'd said back up on the ridge about it being a town full of actors.

  He put his hand on my shoulder again. I turned to see a serious look creeping back into his face.

  The beer must be wearing off, I thought. He was right. The buzz didn't seem to last too long. Wonder if it leaves a headache, like champagne?

  “Well,” he said, taking in a deep breath and puffing up his chest as he returned to his more official voice from earlier, the one that sounded like the trusted Sheriff in an old John Wayne movie. “Now that the misses is settled in and safe, let's take a little walk.”

  “I don't know,” I shot back. “I don't want to leave her.”

  “She'll be fine,” Hudson assured me. “She's in good hands with Bart. He'd give his life to keep her safe, same as you. Besides, I’ve got a proposition for you and I'd appreciate it if you heard me out.”

  I turned and looked at Felicity again. She smiled and waved at me, already lost in the fun. I waved back just in time for her to see it before a fresh round of 'swing your partner round and round' began and she was swept up into the group dance once more.

  “Okay,” I said, turning back to Hudson. “Let's talk then.”

  We walked outside. It was much quieter once the saloon doors shut behind us, leaving the loud confined space sealed. There were still people performing monologues in the streets.

  “Follow me,” Hudson said, setting off at a quick pace through the crowds toward the houses on the hill. I stood rooted in place and watched him go, unsure about leaving Felicity behind, even for a moment. Hudson stopped when he realized I wasn't with him. He turned back wi
th an easy smile. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  I hesitated.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You still don't trust me?”

  “It's not that,” I said. “I just don't like leaving her out of my sight is all.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I wanted you to see our grow operation. Get a feel for how we sustain ourselves. It's just at the end of the block, near my house.”

  I stood rooted in place, torn by indecision. Something inside of me felt funny, like there was a trick happening I couldn't figure out. It wasn't that I didn't trust Hudson. I did. I owed him my life. There was just this unsettled feeling in my stomach I couldn't shake, as if something was coming.

  You're being paranoid, I told myself. You're going to have to learn to let go.

  “Sorry,” I said, starting to follow him at last. “It's been a rough couple of days. I'm still a little shaken up.”

  “You can say that again,” Hudson laughed. “You've been through hell in a hand basket…and that's just since I first laid eyes on you. I can't imagine what horrors you've seen out there.”

  “Plenty,” I offered. I was now walking side by side with him. I could see the glass panels of the grow house in the distance. We were moving right toward them. “I ran into enough trouble in the last forty-eight hours to last me a lifetime.”

  “That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Hudson responded, sounding nervous for the first time. “What exactly happened with those military guys? And what's the deal with your spirited friend?”

  Friend? What is he talking about?

  I stared at him, obviously confused by his last question.

  “I mean the pretty one with the horse riding skills,” Hudson clarified. “What's her deal?”