Zombie Slaver (Zombie Botnet Book 4)

by Al K. Line

  Then it was gone.

  Al was back to being regular Al, as normal as he was ever likely to be, and after a second of peace enveloped him he felt something else creep up from his toes to the tip of his head — he became enraged.

  About everything. About the day, the week, the month, the zombies, the Alpha, and the way that Mandy had been treated. And the future that was in store for the little child that he knew was far from like any other child there had ever been.

  All he could do was get them to safety, which meant destroying the man that had brought them here, then dealing with what came next, which he didn't dare think about. The numbers tagged to the infected popped out of existence above their heads and he forgot about them for the time being, focusing his immense anger on the battle that now faced him.

  "Volunteering eh? I like that," sneered Alfred. "So, which is it to be, infection or death?"

  "I am not choosing either. You are to be fighting me now, and the winner will be being me. I see you, and I see all of them," said Al, pointing at the infected. "And he sees it too." Al pointed at Tomas. He saw the alpha zombie swallow, knew that he was aware of it as well. Al, along with the others, had wondered why Tomas had been handed back, it seemed out of character at this point in time. It was as if Alpha had done it without thinking.

  Alfred looked somewhat confused, as if not remembering giving back the child, then shook himself and grinned happily.

  "So, you and me big guy, is that it? I'm not really a fighter though, you know. More a lover." With that he closed his eyes for a second and before he had time to think about anything else Al was swinging his fists and smashing heads. All his frustrations, anger and pent up fury spilled out into the room making him scary to watch. He went manic, as if possessed by forces beyond his control. Kyle gasped, Mandy covered her eyes, and Ven squeezed Tomas tight. The baby was not moving a single muscle, his eyes were clenched tightly shut.

  Bos Bos barked wildly, about to go just as wild as Al.

  Everyone was in the large open foyer, zombies lined either side of the sweeping staircases, one to a step, unmoving. On the floor the remaining humans were surrounded in a circle by even more infected, with Al and their leader center stage. It was just like the fighting pit, but without the pit bit, noted Ven, never one to miss stating the obvious, even if it was just to herself.

  What Al thought was going to be a battle of him against the leader changed fast and he fought, yet again, for his life. But this time it felt different, as if the infected were simply walking to their slaughter. He fought and easily beat down those that came at him, and to the dismay of their leader only a few infected stepped forward and attacked.

  Al was sweating lightly and panting but back in full control, actually feeling good about getting some blood pumping in his veins.

  "That's the way it's gonna be, is it?" said Alfred, staring at the small child, eyes clenched tight. "And to think I was going to spare you, to let you become what nature intended." He lunged for the baby but Al tackled him to the ground. Tomas' eyes opened and he began to cry. Not a loud cry, soft quiet whimpers of tiredness and exhaustion, then he fell asleep before Ven even had time to hush and soothe him. He was totally spent, snoring deeply within seconds.

  The zombies awoke as if from a forced hibernation — things got a little bit messy.

  "They're moving, all of them," shouted a terrified Ven, as the infected came to their senses and began to close in.

  "Move. Now," shouted Kyle, grabbing Mandy by the upper arm, unable to help noticing how soft and warm her skin felt. He caught Ven with the other hand and pulled them toward the door, letting go of them both to swing punches at the infected fast coming to their senses.

  Al was beside them in a second, scooping Mandy up like a little child in his arms and leading the way, barging bodies out of the way to clear a path.

  As they ran out the door Ven could hear Alfred laughing behind them, shouting, "There's nowhere left to hide bitch, I can find you anywhere now. And I would, but I don't need to. Ha, ha, ha," before the pounding rain and the churning wind, and the deafening thunder drowned out any more noise from the collectively cannibalistic inside the building.

  They got nowhere. Outside, facing them from the steps were more infected than within. A lot more. Alpha had summoned them, they had come from all around, and they were hungry.

  "Shit, shit, shit. Back inside... fast," said Ven. They ran back in, rushing up the left hand staircase. Al and Kyle took the lead, grabbing infected and flinging them against the wall, over the side, or sent them rolling down the deep red plushly carpeted steps with loud bumps.

  Up they ran, taking steps two or three at a time, until they were greeted by a landing with numerous doors, sterile looking portraits hanging perfectly aligned on both walls. Al grabbed a random door handle and opened it; they ran inside, slamming the door closed behind them. Before anyone had time to look around the door was being pounded. It splintered, infected swarming in, Alfred stomped in with his black boots and kilt, rage throbbing behind dark and unimpassioned eyes.

  He sighed. "Fine, you and me then buddy, then I deal with the rest of you," he said, looking first at Al, then the rest of the group. Eyes purposely avoiding looking at young Tomas.

  The room was huge, it actually took up half of one upper wing of the building. This was the formal ballroom, where guests danced the night away in their finery centuries ago when such occasions were all the rage. With countless windows and doors leading back to the hallway it was dizzying in its scale, now taken over with various expensive pieces of furniture and rugs, all labeled to tell the inquisitive visitors about their heritage. The parquet floor at one end was still bare and Alfred stood there, beckoning for Al to come fight him. Infected kept pouring in, lining the walls obviously still under the control of Alpha — their Saviour.

  "After I've dealt with you, I'm going to let the pack eat your friends," said Alfred addressing Al. "And you," he said, pointing at Ven, "are definitely going to be last. Then I will keep the little fella and make sure he grows up to be what he is supposed to be, not what you think he should be— oof!"

  Al wasn't about to just hang around and wait for the bad man in the skirt to finish threatening them all before he fought, so he took action. He slammed into him while he was still giving his threats and Alfred went down. Al was very surprised however at quite how tough and hard the man felt. Normally the small skinny people were like twigs. He had now dealt with hundreds of the infected and they never felt like too much of a challenge for his huge frame.

  Alfred was different. He was somewhat in control of his body, infected but not in a way the others were. It meant that he didn't have quite such a ruined metabolism. Much of what he ate was now digested properly — the chemical releases within his body changed as he took control of his new existence. Rock hard muscle like coiled steel springs rippled under the skin. He was extremely slim, but it was all functional muscle, honed over the months, improved beyond normal potential because of new and complex reactions happening at a cellular level. The high protein diet did wonders for his strength and endurance, and the chemical cocktails made him unfeasibly strong. He was naturally dosed up to the eyeballs on steroid equivalents released by his own body. Testosterone levels were through the roof, pain receptors blunted to minimal sensation, and blood now pumped fast through his thick coiled veins as adrenaline went into overdrive to better aid him with his fight.

  But for all of this Al was still a huge man — very well muscled, and he had his Mandy now, which gave him a superhuman strength all of his own. Akin to a bear protecting its young.

  He was hungry too.

  They grappled on the floor, the weight of Al seemingly impossible to shift, but Alfred managed to roll away, springing to his feet like a cat. He danced around lithely then jabbed out three lightning fast punches into Al's face, slamming hard into the bridge of his nose, breaking it, flattening it even more.

  Al caught the next punch as it was thrown,
then turned sharply, Alfred's tendons and ligaments strained to stay intact as they were twisted and twisted. He kicked Al hard in the groin and the pressure was released, and as Al bent over Alfred kneed up hard into his face and almost knocked Al off his feet.

  Al recovered fast, still bent almost double he lunged forward, arms open wide and embraced the zombie leader tightly. He stood erect and lifted the small man off his feet and squeezed tight. Alfred just smiled at him and spat in his face. Enraged, Al threw him to the floor and smashed a giant fist right into his mouth. The lip split and teeth were dislodged. Alpha rolled away, dripping thick blood onto the shiny parquet floor.

  Alpha wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned a cavernous smile. Then with heightened reflexes running at the max, almost making normal time seem to slow down, Alfred spun and kicked out at Al's belly, with unsurprisingly little effect. Al just laughed, but it had the desired effect, the seemingly innocuous kick had made Al let his guard down for a second, and Alfred followed up fast with a lunge straight at his throat. He grabbed hold with a viselike grip with his left hand while he pounded at the side of Al's head with the other.

  Al felt his throat being squeezed until breathing became hard. Try as he might he couldn't get the man off. He ran hard at the wall — a loud crunch signaled to Al that he had at least broken something in his opponent. Alfred dropped to the ground, his right arm limp. Quickly Al brought his leg down hard onto the limp arm, smashing the radius and ulna into irreparable pieces. Al bent and repeatedly smashed his fists into the face, then breathing raggedly he rose and lifted his leg. Al was going to stomp down on this travesty of what was once a human's head and end the madness for good.

  "Wait, I wouldn't do that if I were you," spluttered Alpha from the floor, broken but seemingly oblivious to the pain.

  Al paused, leg lifted, tensed and ready to deliver a death blow to his foe beneath him. He hesitated yet he knew he should finish the fight. He couldn't help but look around the room — he came back to the reality of the situation. There was his Mandy, hands to her face, concern and fear evident. There was Ven, and baby Tomas, and Kyle and Bos Bos, straining at his collar which Kyle had a firm hold of.

  Alfred, or what was called Alfred before the mayhem began, lay wrecked on the floor. Broken, bleeding, totally mangled, yet he was smiling. His mouth was bloody and raw, dark gaps where teeth had been knocked out. When he spoke he did so with a slight lisp, the air sucking in between the gaping voids in his mouth.

  "Ha, ha. You think you've won? What do you think is going to happen if I die? Think you are going to get out of here alive? Look around you." He turned his head from side to side, indicating the eyes that were following his every move, it was obvious that his hold over his undead army was waning.

  Al lowered his foot, looked around again. What was he supposed to do? Then the silence was interrupted.

  "No, Bos Bos, no. Come here, now!" screamed Kyle. Bos Bos had pulled backward sharply, and Kyle was left holding the dog collar without the appropriate dog attached. Bos Bos ran across the room to Al, almost losing control on the slippery floor, nails clipping loudly trying to find purchase. He came to a halt right at the head of the alpha zombie and clamped down vice-like on his throat. He bit down harder, then shook and shook, ravaging the throat and yanking back hard, raising his snout in triumph, a fleshy mouthful his prize.

  He coughed out hard and the lump plopped onto the floor, the body of Alpha limp, his final death a foregone conclusion.

  All hell broke lose in an instant. The hold over the infected could be seen falling away as waves of movement rippled around the room. Eyes darted wildly, mouths opened to moan of their hunger, and they came out of their stupor now that the hold over them had dissipated. In seconds they became aware enough of their surroundings to realize that they could move freely, that food was available for the taking.

  They began to close in on the humans and the very, very naughty dog sat in the middle of a room full of zombies, wondering why he wasn't being praised and given a sandwich for killing the bad man in the funny skirt.

  "Oh, Bos Bos," whispered Kyle, not wanting to shout at him as he didn't really know he had done a bad thing.

  "Um, run?" ventured Kyle.

  "Run," agreed Ven.

  "Damn straight," agreed Mandy.

  "I am wanting to do the running too," said Al, nodding his head vigorously.

  They ran.

  Where to Batman?

  Al bounded over, huge chest heaving, Bos Bos following close behind, realizing something was up and that he may not have actually been quite as good a boy as he had first thought.

  Al grabbed Mandy by the hand just as the infected began to reach for her, and as one the whole group made a desperate dash for the far end of the room. Al, even after fighting the instigator of spreading the zombie hivemind, and not having had the best of times recently, couldn't help but notice how nicely Mandy wobbled about in her blouse as she ran alongside him. Mandy caught his stare and said, "Seriously? At a time like this, you still can't keep your eyes off these." She grabbed one of the wobbly bits and Al nearly had to stop running right there and then; it had nothing to do with fear of infection — other things were getting in the way. He just gulped and said, "You are looking very nice when you do the running Mandy, we should be taking up the jogging I am thinking. I think marathons would be the best running to do, it takes a long time I am being told."

  Mandy stared at him, mouth open, both amazed at the ability of Al to switch off from immediate danger, and secretly thinking that his hands did look nice and big and warm. She shook her head, damn, his presence was infectious, not in a bad, turn you into a zombie infectious way either. She glanced down, easily noting why Al was having problems keeping up.

  Good job he has double stitched trousers on, she thought to herself, unable to mask a smile.

  Ven and Kyle just ran, neither of them thinking of boobs or lumps in trousers at the present time.

  The infected masses were hard on their heels. Bos Bos was barking and kept turning to give them fair warning, but for some reason they were taking no notice and just kept on coming. He felt it prudent under the circumstances to keep running away.

  Bos Bos skidded to a halt eventually at the end of the room, scratching deep gouges in the until now immaculate wooden floor. Kyle threw open the door and they all ran out — there was no corridor left to run down. He thrust open a door on the opposite wall and they all scrambled inside, infected were heading their way from multiple directions, they would be upon them in seconds.

  The room overlooked the front of the building, large windows letting what little light there was in. The storm was still in full force, lightning silhouetting them all as it flashed brilliantly against the ancient leaded glass windows.

  "What now?" panted Ven. "The bloody zombies are everywhere. Where can we go?"

  Everyone hunted around wildly, looking for an escape that simply wasn't there. No way out unless they fought through masses of infected that were completely overwhelming in their numbers. They had no weapons, they had no alpha zombie controlling them, and they were not going to be able to fight past so many to gain their freedom.

  The door burst open and the infected surged in, Al and Kyle ran to fight them, in what they both knew was a futile gesture, but without viable alternative. Kyle swung and swung, kicked and screamed and went wild. His boy, his little boy would be ripped to pieces. Al thrust bodies in all directions, repeatedly smashing skulls against the floor, but it was no use, they were overpowered and overrun in seconds. Infected tore past them, intent on the female flesh and the young boy. Ven and Mandy were grabbed and pulled from side to side, infected fighting over the writhing flesh that sent them crazed with desire.

  Ven dropped Tomas as she was set upon, her protective jacket saving her from immediate death as the infected snapped at her body and tried to rip her throat. Bos Bos jumped on the attackers, but their lack of sensation meant he only stopped the assaults wh
en they were killed. He grabbed one by the face, ripping away from side to side, until it released its grip as it flailed about blindly, eyes nothing more than broken marbles in their sockets. More took its place. Ven's arms were grabbed and she thought she would die by being physically ripped apart.

  Tomas squirmed on the floor, watching as his mother was pulled by the arms — the amassed hordes baying dementedly for her blood. Her screams, as she felt muscles and tendons stretching to ripping point, sent him crawling around manically through the confusion of bodies. All while Bos Bos darted back and forth trying to get the zombies to release Ven. Tomas slipped in blood, his small hands unable to gain traction, so his face slammed into the hard floor. He pushed upward with his little arms to reveal a red stained mouth and cheeks, blood at the corner of his thick lips. His tongue darted out and licked the gooey liquid. Tomas' face began to darken, he heard his mother's screams — tasted her blood on his tongue. Veins crawled over his chubby cheeks and forehead as he pushed up, sitting perfectly still.

  Concentration spread across his pulsing bloody face and he simply closed his eyes, frowned in concentration, and shook his head indicating a silent 'no'.

  Silence.

  Stillness.

  Ven scooped him up and they walked out past the vacant eyes of the infected, all staring inward, controlled by the pulsing purple fractal bulge expanding rapidly at the heart of the hivemind.

  Too Much 'How's Your Father'

  "Okay, that's it, I can't stand this for one minute longer. It's doing my head in. Doesn't he need to have a break for a sandwich or something?" said Kyle, totally exasperated, a little embarrassed, and definitely jealous as hell.