Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3)

by Devan Sagliani

  “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 ne
xt 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.

  “This doesn't look good,” I said, stating the obvious. “You got a second backup plan?”

  “Not exactly,” Benji said. “I wasn't expecting this.”

  “What should I do?” He turned back and stared at Moto, looking for direction.

  “There's nothing we can do,” Moto said, looking frustrated. “We can't outrun their bikes, and if we try to drive through them we'll be turned into Swiss cheese.”

  “What if we put it in reverse?” I suggested, feeling anew the panic rise up inside of me. I knew if Franco got his hands on us again we'd be lucky to just be hung or shot. More than likely he'd use us to quell the rebellion against him, then torture us all during his cruel experiments. After what I'd seen him do to Haki, I was scared stiff for Benji.

  “I don't think that option is available to us any longer,” Moto sighed. I whipped my head around to see John leading a pack of angry Blackshirts in our direction. Many of them had dirt covering their arms and faces, with blood oozing from fresh cuts and scrapes. We definitely weren't going to get any kind of compassion from a troop of armed men we'd just ambushed.

  “There has to be a way,” I shouted, waving my arms in near hysteria. “We can't just let them take us again! You know what they will do.”

  “What other choice do we have?” Moto asked. “We still have value in staying alive for the moment. John will want to hand us over to Franco to regain favor with him, especially after what just happened with Tank.”

  “I'll die before I let that happen,” Benji said. “I'd rather go down fighting, than give him the satisfaction of killing me – or worse.”

  “Agreed,” Moto said without hesitation. “It's going to be all about finding the right moment to make a last stand.”

  “What if that moment doesn't come?” I asked.

  “It will,” Moto assured me. “Remember, these men aren't trained warriors. Most of them are common thugs, street hoods, and hooligans. They may look like a huge force united against us, but the one thing they all have in common is their distaste for rules and authority. When the going gets rough they always revert back to every man for himself. You'll see.”

  “Let's just hope John can keep them from doing something stupid until our big moment happens,” I said, anxiously looking from face to dirty face. They looked eager for mayhem, wild and unruly and ready to do damage.

  “Amen,” Moto agreed. “In the meantime don't give them an excuse. We want them to think we're defeated, ready to cooperate. It's the only way we'll get a chance at all.”

  “Got it,” Benji said at once, nodding his head. I nodded as well.

  “Good,” Moto said. “Now hands up. Here they come.”

  John was now at the driver's side door, opening it and pulling Benji out. He kept his hands up in surrender. Blackshirts swarmed around the vehicle with automatic weapons trained on Moto and me. Acidic panic washed over me in waves as I waited for them to begin firing at us.

  “On your knees,” John said, ordering Benji to a spot in front of him. “And the rest of you join him at once or die.”

  Moto gave me a dark look, reminding me to mind my tongue, before complying. I followed him out of the Jeep, hands up. We both knelt in front of John who looked too frazzled to even enjoy his moment of victory.

  “Good,” John said, sounding tired. “Now stay there and don't move. If you so much as scratch an itch my men will fill you with more lead than a pencil.”

  He turned and walked toward the sound of the roaring motors, his Blackshirts leaning in attentively with their weapons as he left, waiting for a reason to slaughter us. The wall of bikers parted like a curtain and out walked a tall woman in fine clothing, her face covered by a stylish hat. There was something familiar about her that sent chills up my spine. She reached up and removed her hat, erasing any doubt I might have had about who she was. It was the Head Mistress of Hellfire. John took her in his arms and they kissed like lovers who'd been separated too long. They turned and he held her hand as they walked back over to us.

  “So,” she said with a smirk, leveling her gaze at me. “We meet again, young Xander. It's been a long and difficult hunt you've led us on, but it's ended as predictably as I promised, with you and your friends on your knees, once more my captive. No one ever gets away from me. You could have saved us all a lot of trouble if you'd just understood that from the start.”

  “Who are you?” Benji asked, looking up at her in amazement.

  “You need to learn some manners,” she spat angrily, turning her attention to him. “I wasn't speaking to you, was I?”

  John reache
d out and put his hand on her arm and she calmed instantly, a gentle smile returning to her face.

  “I suppose it's your fault,” she said cloyingly to John. “For not properly introducing me.”

  “Listen up, dirt bags,” John said, beaming with pride. “This is my wife, Desdemona.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You're the one who killed Airi,” I said coldly. “Don't try to deny it. I saw her body, or what was left of it, back at the circus.”

  “She disobeyed me,” Desdemona said plainly. “She understood the consequences of her decision. She was to keep watch over you, and let me know right away if anything out of the ordinary happened.”

  “That's what she did,” I protested.

  “After you were gone, she admitted that she'd taken the gag from your mouth and spoken to you,” Desdemona explained. “I knew right then and there I could no longer trust her, that she had grown emotionally unstable, and that she was of a lesser mettle than I desired at Hellfire.”

  “So she wasn't good enough to be your slave and entertain these savages because she had a single moment of sympathy?” I could feel Moto burning a hole in the side of my face with the look he was giving me, but I didn't care. The girl had done nothing wrong, other than having the unfortunate duty of guarding me, and it had cost her her life.

  “Despite appearances to the contrary, my clients prefer girls of the highest caliber,” Desdemona responded patiently, as if she were explaining big business to a small child. “The ones I select to represent me at Hellfire are handpicked for their personal charms, their discretion, and their loyalty. After all, they are a reflection of me, the Head Mistress in charge of providing luxury companionship. Hellfire is my church and the lucky courtesans within that holy sanctuary are like different religions, all leading to a greater experience of the divine, all tongues speaking forgotten truths of bliss. I have no use for girls with bleeding hearts who can't follow orders at my house of worship – only goddesses.”