Zombie Attack! Box Set (Books 1-3)

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Zombie Attack! Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 62

by Devan Sagliani


  “Let's have a round of applause for Tank,” he shouted, and the men drowned him out in hoots and cheers, each one bloodthirsty and eager to see us executed and our bodies left to dangle in the breeze like broken wind chimes.

  “This isn't how it was supposed to go,” Tank murmured, but Franco clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I know you're disappointed that you can't tear Xander apart with your bare hands, as John promised,” Franco said. “In fact, it was John who recommended we bestow the honor on you of pulling the trap door lever for that very reason. It will just have to be enough, I'm afraid. Consider it a small portion of what you deserve for being a good and loyal friend.”

  John smiled as Tank shot a confused look at him.

  “Go on, Cyclops,” John shouted. “You heard him.”

  Something is off, I thought. Tank no longer looked happy at all, but the men around him didn't seem to notice or care. He stepped forward and put his hands on the lever that would force the small square of wood we were standing on to spring open, causing us to plummet to our deaths as the noose tightened around our necks and strangled the life out of us.

  “On my word,” Franco said loud and clear. Tank just nodded.

  I closed my eyes.

  Forgive me Felicity, I thought. I'm so sorry, baby. I should have listened to you and stayed in Xanadu. I love you so much. And God, if you're up there listening, I need a miracle.

  I opened my eyes, the anticipation causing me to involuntarily shiver all over.

  “Now!”

  Tank pulled the lever in slow motion. Suddenly images from my life began to flash before my eyes. I saw back to the days when my dad and I used to visit my mom in the cancer ward at the hospital. How frail and thin she'd grown. She reached out to me from her sick bed, her tiny trembling hand covered in veins by that point. She no longer had hair, but had carefully wrapped her head in a colorful scarf. She smelled like lemonade from the swabs she rubbed on the sores in her mouth. She was dying and we knew it. The doctor wanted us to say goodbye, to make peace with her passing. There were tears in her eyes as she spoke to me, answering my adolescent gibberish when I asked what I was supposed to do without her.

  “Just do your best,” she said in a voice that barely rose above a whisper. “That's all you can do in this life. Take care of each other now. I'll be watching over you, I promise. I love you.”

  I'd blocked out that painful image for most of my life, unable to deal with her passing. Over time I'd forgotten the details of her face as well, replacing them with a generic image in my mind, an idealized version of who she was.

  “Why did mommy have to die?” I asked my father before the funeral. He was dressed in his good Sunday clothes, attempting to put on a tie, a job that used to be reserved for my mother on the rare occasions we went to church.

  “So she could be your guardian angel,” he told me. “She's in Heaven now looking down on us.”

  I searched the clouds as we stood by the gravesite at her funeral, looking for a sign of her. As the next few years went by I prayed to her, imagining her in flowing white robes, young and beautiful and radiating light. Those were some dark times, some tough times, and I found peace in being able to talk to her, whether she could hear me or not. Later, when Moto found us and completed our family, I stopped talking to my mom. Life moved on and took us with it. I'd forgotten all about it until I saw the lever reaching the end of the arc, signaling that our deaths were just a moment away.

  Mom, I thought with all my might, if you are still up there, if you can hear me, please help us. I need you now more than ever. Please get us out of this and back safe with the ones we love.

  I felt the door under my feet give way as my body went into an animal panic, erasing all traces of rational thought from my mind. It felt like electricity was shooting through my body, and I became hyper aware of everything as the adrenaline began to kick in. I could hear my heart beating, could feel it like a lump in my throat as I began to fall.

  Those were the longest seconds of my life. They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. I don't know if that's true for everyone, but it was for me. A series of images tore through my mind, showing me everything from rainy days as a child splashing in puddles on the way home from school, to the training sessions on hot summer days with Moto, and to the moment Felicity and I shared our first kiss. My mind froze on the image of her face, unable to let go or move on.

  I'm sorry, baby, I thought. I'm sorry for everything. I love you.

  I reached the end of the rope and it went taut. Beside me I heard a loud ripping noise that made me picture Moto's neck snapping, followed by an odd crashing thud. I had no such luck. Tank had been right. Whoever measured out the rope for my hanging didn't do it right. I dangled helplessly by the throat as the life was squeezed out of me, my face turning colors.

  I heard people around me booing, loud voices calling out to finish me off. The crowd of Franco's followers, mostly bikers in disguise, began hurling rocks and cans at me.

  “You did this,” Franco hissed at Tank. “Didn't you? You were so caught up in your childish scheme of revenge that you couldn't stand to see them die so easily! You couldn't stand the thought of not being able to rip his body to pieces like you'd been planning since John first captured him in Ojai.”

  There was a chorus of murmurs now passing between the enlisted men, many of whom began backing away.

  “What are you talking about?!” Tank yelled in frustration.

  I could hear ringing in my ears as I kicked helplessly, praying the pain would stop.

  “You snuck out here and messed with the rope,” Franco said, growing louder and angrier. “Admit it!”

  “I'm not taking any more of this from you or anyone else,” Tank said, turning and squaring off with Franco. “I've had enough.”

  Franco kicked Tank's legs out from underneath him without hesitation, leaving the giant sprawled out flat on his back. He withdrew his gun from his holster and pointed it at Tank's massive chest. Tank held up his hands, his single, remaining eye wide with shock at how quickly the tables had turned.

  “Wait,” Tank begged. “I made a mistake. Please.”

  “There's no room in my army for soldiers who can't follow orders,” Franco replied. “Enjoy your one-way trip back to oblivion, freak.”

  Any minute now I'll be dead, I thought, the pain in my throat driving me mad. Please let it happen soon. Please don't let me suffer anymore.

  With lightning speed Benji raced onto the platform, drawing my katana from his back and slicing through my hanging rope. My vision was starting to fade to black. My head began to swim as I lost consciousness. I heard the sound of the gun going off over and over as I fell. My feet hit the earth beneath the platform, but didn't find purchase. I crumpled like a sack of moldy potatoes. Benji plunged through the trap door after me. He sliced the noose and pulled the wiry twine from around my neck. I gasped down air like a thirsty man gulping down water. I saw stars as I tried to sit up. Benji pushed me back into the dirt.

  “Stay down,” he cautioned, doing his best to cover me. “It's about to get ugly.”

  Benji pulled a hidden lever on the underside of the platform and a steel plate swung forward, locking into place in front of us and blocking off Franco and his men. Before they had time to react, the sound of gunfire rang out all around us. I turned my head to see Moto had already managed to work his hands free and was doing his best to remove his noose. Loud screams from in front of me drew my attention away. I looked out from under the gallows platform to see total chaos unfolding right before my eyes. Soldiers in full fatigues were fighting with Franco's men. I could see Tank's lifeless body splayed not ten feet from me. Franco and John were nowhere in sight.

  “What's happening?” I wheezed in bewilderment.

  “We're rescuing you,” Benji explained. “You didn't really think I'd turned on you, did ya?”

  He cut the ropes around my hands, then gave me back my katana.

>   “You were pretty convincing,” I gasped, still not sure I believed he was really with us again.

  “I had to be,” Benji affirmed. “Franco began recruiting men the first week he came on the base. That's when Moto approached me with his plan. He said that if I could convince them that I was jealous of your promotion, of you having your brother in charge, then I could make them believe I'd gone bad. He was right.”

  “You knew about this?” I asked, turning to face my brother, who was now smiling.

  “I ordered it,” he said. “I told you I had a man on the inside.”

  “So was getting hung and almost dying part of your plan?”

  “Not exactly,” Moto shrugged.

  “I was just supposed to get information about what Franco was planning,” Benji explained. “But, as you can see, things escalated quickly.”

  “So you're not part of Franco's elite squad?”

  “Hell no! I tried to give you a clue. I thought when I made up the story of you stealing comic books from me you'd figure that out.”

  “So that's why you said that,” I realized at last. “I thought you'd either lost your mind or Franco had brainwashed you into joining his team.”

  “Actually, I'm the leader of the resistance,” Benji said proudly. “We're called Loyalists.”

  “What on Earth does that mean?”

  “It's just a funny name we came up with as a joke,” Benji laughed. “I'm in charge of a unit of soldiers specially vetted by your brother to counteract anything Franco might come up with.”

  “You mean like a military coup?”

  “Exactly,” Moto said.

  “Franco’s decision to follow through with the hanging threw me for a loop,” Benji admitted. “I spent all night coordinating this rescue. We weren't planning on exposing ourselves so soon. We didn’t wanna lose the element of surprise. Then again, I couldn't just let them kill my two best friends. How would I explain that to Felicity and Sonya?”

  “What if the fall had broken my neck?”

  “We took measures to make sure that wouldn't happen,” Benji assured me. “My guys were the ones who set up the gallows in the first place. Once construction was complete, they added the metal shield as well as a side exit to give us a running start out to the front gate. Both ropes were intentionally cut so they'd snap, and you'd fall through to safety. I also had one of my men all set to pull the lever, but Franco switched that at the last minute. I was supposed to get a signal, then leap forward and cut you loose once you were safely under the structure. I wasn't expecting Tank to mess with your rope. He must have switched it out this morning, shortening the length so you'd just dangle helplessly while he watched.”

  “So he was right about Tank?” I asked. “And John just let him do it.”

  All that talk about how I'd killed his friend, I thought, and John didn't seem the least bit concerned that Franco had snuffed Tank out. I thought about the look on Tank's face when he was told he would be doing the honors. He looked horrified, as if he knew it would mean his own death instead.

  “Beats me,” Benji said. “Probably some internal power struggle.”

  “Guys like John and Franco don't have any real loyalties,” Moto explained. “In the end, they'll always put what's best for them over everyone else. That's why we can't let them get away with hijacking the military and using it as their personal army to conquer the world. That's why we're in this fight.”

  “Well then,” I said, feeling the powerful urge to join the fray as the battle raged around us. “What are we waiting for? Let's get to work!”

  “I've got you a lift off base,” Benji said, throwing open the side door.

  “I'm not leaving,” I argued. “No way. I'm ready to fight to the death.”

  “I need you to get Apache and the others,” Moto commanded. “You're the only one who knows how to get into Xanadu. We're going to need that antidote now more than ever. I'm counting on you to make sure it gets here.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm not leaving in the middle of a battle! It's out of the question!”

  “I'm not asking you anymore,” Moto growled. “As your commanding officer, I am giving you a direct order. Do you understand that, soldier?”

  I glared at him, unwilling to answer.

  He's just being overly protective, I thought. He's trying to keep me out of harm’s way, but this is my fight just as much as it is his. Why can't he see that?

  “No time to argue, gentlemen,” Benji advised, cutting the silence. “We've got Blackshirts inbound so it looks like we're all going for a quick ride. That'd be them now.”

  I heard the Jeep before I saw it. It came crashing through a crowd of angry bikers, carelessly knocking them aside like a bowling ball hitting pins. At the wheel a smiling soldier greeted us with a salute.

  “Private Gary Mathers at your service,” he barked.

  “It's about time,” Benji said, crawling out from under the gallows and over the side of the vehicle. He motioned for us to follow. “Any day now gentlemen, if you please.”

  I looked back at Moto.

  “Age before beauty,” I teased, and he laughed in reply. We scrambled into the back of the Jeep.

  “Stick to the plan,” Benji said.

  “Yes sir,” Gary replied without hesitation. He revved the engine and took off, heading along the perimeter wall of the base.

  “We'll double back and rendezvous with our Alpha team once we've gotten him to the extraction point in one piece.”

  Benji sure is growing up fast, I thought. He's come a long way from the scared little kid I had to save a hundred times from New Lompoc to Ojai.

  “How are we going to get out?” I asked. “The front gate is the only way in or out, and Franco's got to have it locked down at this point.”

  Looking forward confirmed my suspicions. I could see a wall of Blackshirts armed to the teeth up ahead, locked and loaded and ready to take us out before they'd let us off base alive. I swallowed the lump of anxiety forming in my already sore throat. After surviving being hung, I wasn't keen on being cut down in a hail of bullets.

  “Don't worry, bro,” Benji said, pulling a remote from the center console. “We've got that covered too.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Several bullets whizzed past us, one hitting the dashboard, another cracking the windshield.

  “Watch your heads,” Moto warned, ducking down. “We've got incoming!”

  I didn't have to be told twice. I glanced back as I crouched down, looking for the source of the deadly projectiles. The entire base was now in a state of open warfare. To my left I saw a cluster of Blackshirts taking cover, trying to avoid being shot, while enlisted soldiers lead by Benji's men, the Loyalists in gray camouflage, flanked in from the left, using them for target practice. On my right it was the exact opposite. Blackshirts terrorized recruits, chasing down the men that ran and shooting them in the back, even firing on men attempting to surrender. In the heart of it all were Franco and John, still standing next to the gallows where we'd left them. Both men were facing our direction, arms extended with handguns trained at us. John let off another shot, closing one eye and licking his lips as he aimed. It went past in a blur, sinking into the back of the driver's seat and piercing through Gary, who gave out a loud yelp. I saw John smile before turning to see Gary slouching over the wheel in shock. There was a fine mist of bright red blood on the cracked windshield. I could hear Gary panting, like he was gasping for breath, as the Jeep began to slow.

  “Sounds like they got him in the lung,” Benji said. “Gary, you okay man? Gary?”

  Benji began to shake the driver, but got only a sad moan in reply. A volley of fresh gunfire exploded directly in front of us as the Blackshirts peppered the front of the Jeep.

  “We're in range,” Moto shouted. “Do it now, Benji!”

  Benji hit the button on his remote. A booming explosion ripped through the air as the wooden guard station at the entrance to the
base disintegrated into a tornado of splinters and concrete, sending the Blackshirts directly in front of it flying, their weapons blown out of their surprised hands. A bright orange fireball shot out of where the roof of the guard station had been mere seconds before, followed by an ominous dark mushroom cloud the color of a pirate flag.

  “Got 'em!” Moto cheered. Benji leaned over Gary and fidgeted with the latch until the front seat dropped back. Moto helped pull Gary into the back with us. He was white as a sheet, wheezing for air. Blood poured from a single point in his midsection, wetting his uniform. Benji quickly climbed into the driver's seat and pulled it back upright. Grabbing the wheel with both hands he accelerated hard, making the Jeep lurch forward into the maelstrom of death and chaos directly in front of us.

  “Hang on everyone,” Benji cried out after the fact.

  I looked back to see Franco barking orders at John, his face twisted in rage now. John visibly shook as he agreed with what he was being told. Franco pointed his gun threateningly at John before abruptly turning and marching back to the lab. John began to jog after us, a sick look on his face.

  I felt the tires of the Jeep rise up as we ran over the first of the Blackshirts still lying in our path, disoriented from the unexpected blast. A cloud of particles from the explosion lingered in the air obscuring our view. Benji did his best to navigate around the stunned-looking Blackshirts as he raced past the remains of the burning guard station and headed off the base. A thick wall of black smoke trailed out in front of us, caught in a current of onshore wind that swept through the base. Moto and I both began to cough violently as we inhaled the dark air, before covering our faces with our arms. My eyes stung and tears leaked out as the toxic smoke wrapped around my face like a heavy bag. I put my head down between my legs, hoping to get a breath of clean air from near the floorboards, while wiping furiously at my eyes to clear them. As I did, I felt the Jeep begin to slow to a crawl, and the engine died down as if it had been shut off completely. That's when I noticed the sound, a loud rumbling echoing in the distance.

  “What's going on?” I asked, coming back up when I didn't get an immediate answer. My vision was blurry, the bright sunlight only making it worse. At last my pupils adjusted, revealing the reason Benji had slowed us to a crawl. Hundreds of bikers fanned out in front of us, Alphas and Unity Gang and Warriors combined into one terrifying assembly, armed and ready to shred us into unrecognizable little pieces.

 

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