Z-Boat (Book 2): Z-Topia

by Suzanne Robb

  “How do you know? Are you sure?”

  “I know, I’ve got a man inside, his information’s been reliable so far. I can only imagine what Richards wants with a boatload of zombies.”

  Trevor nodded. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. Who’s your man inside?”

  “Doesn’t matter, we need to move on this information.” Charlie turned to walk away, but Trevor grabbed him.

  “Charlie, I didn’t know when to tell you this, but Hank disappeared on me for a bit when we were at the last place. I just watched the news coverage. The fire alarm didn’t go off. One hundred and eighty two innocents were killed in the explosion.”

  Charlie felt his knees go weak. He reached for something, anything to hold onto to keep him upright. Almost two hundred people dead because of him. More guilt, more doubts about what he was doing.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie, I had no idea what he was up to. If I’d known—”

  Charlie shook his head. “Not your fault Trevor, we knew something was off about him. We’ll deal with it later. Right now we need to get to that survivor and find out what Richards wants with a boatload of zombies.”

  Trevor nodded and walked away. Charlie felt sick to his stomach. One day he would pay for the things he’d done, there was no making up for the pain and damage he’d inflicted. The best he could hope for was before the decayed hand of death came to drag him through the gates of hell, he’d done something worthwhile for the country he loved.

  * * *

  Ally woke with her hands tied behind her back, a gag in her mouth, a pounding headache, and complete darkness around her. From the rhythmic thumping sound she guessed she was in a trunk. Wonderful, she hadn’t experienced this since basic training when she was a teenager.

  She sighed. What the hell was she going to do now? Mark Richards would have her up on charges of desertion, disobeying a direct order, and a whole list of other things to make sure she either got the death penalty, or life in prison. The fact he ran an unregulated militia didn’t matter, he followed the rules as if he ran the entire military arm of the United States.

  The sound beneath her ear changed, and she knew they pulled off onto a gravel road. She heard voices outside, and then a click and a bright light flashed across her face. A hand reached in and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her out of the car.

  Tossed onto the ground she struggled to get to her knees. Her head ached, and flashes of color danced in front of her eyes.

  “Get her on her feet then bring her to my office.”

  Both of her arms were grabbed and she felt herself being led. Ally tried to take in as much as she could of the surrounding area. From the looks of it she was in one of the Texas compounds.

  The stench of death wafted her way and she wondered what it was from. Then she remembered the cargo on the sub. What the hell was Richards up to? Moments later the goons stopped dragging, a simple door was in front of her. Behind it one of the most devious, underhanded, ruthless bastards waited for her, to pass judgement, to dole out punishment on her. She wanted to scream, her plan to get revenge on those responsible for the death of Marcus just went to hell.

  The thug to her left reached out a meaty paw and knocked on the door.

  “Bring her in already.”

  Reaching for the handle the man looked at her and smiled, his teeth—what few he had—were yellowed and chipped. From the way he eyed her up and down, she had a good idea what Richards would leave her to when he was done.

  The aroma of stale cigar smoke, and something else she couldn’t put a name to hung in the air. The floorboards were well worn with a shiny finish, on the walls a few tattered maps hung, and an old picture of something far too faded to identify.

  As they led her to the desk she forced herself to look him in the eyes, or at least she intended to, but he was busy looking at a display panel on his desk.

  “That’ll be all. Secure the cargo and keep watch for intruders.”

  They forced her into a chair across from his desk then untied her hands, only to retie them to the arms of the chair. The man who leered at her earlier made sure to grin as he pulled the rope tight to the point it cut into her skin. She glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon, or cut the binds with.

  “Don’t bother,” Richards said.

  Ally gazed at him, his eyes as soulless as the last day she stared into them. When he asked her to assassinate someone for no reason other than he didn’t like their politics and wanted to shake things up.

  “I trained you, remember? You will not find a weapon, or anything to undo your restraints, you will be in that chair until I decide you should be somewhere else, understand? As of now, you’re mine.”

  Ally bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. The last thing she needed was to lose her cool. He wanted to bait her, see what upset her and then use it against her. She fashioned an indifferent expression and stared at him—waiting.

  “I bet you’re pretty upset your captain friend died, he was nice enough to hide you all these years. As soon as I saw your face though I knew it was you, Lisa, or Ally as you go by now.”

  Richards stood and opened a small wooden box. He pulled out a cigar, ran it under his nose, and inhaled. His eyes closed for a second then opened again, he held one out to her in an offering manner. She ignored it.

  “Your loss, these are magnificent,” he said as he struck a match across his desk. “You always were one to deny yourself the finer things in life. Though I hear you had a beau back on that tub you called home. Tell me, did he make it too, or did he die like the others?”

  Richards took a few puffs and smiled. “I bet he was a real hero. Did he die saving you? Go out with a bang?”

  Ally emptied her mind and focused on the hatred she had for this man, this monster who ruined her life. She would get out of here, and when she did he would pay. Sinking into her old persona was easier now that Marcus was gone, he’d been a calming presence in her life and with him gone, anger ruled her once more.

  Chapter Seven—

  Charlie felt the anticipation running through his body. Once they landed the people they rescued went off with some of his other recruits, those he trusted. Usually he spent more time focusing on them and making sure they were adjusting well, but the news of a survivor and what Richards was up to took precedence.

  He took Trevor, Jack, and Mona to break into the compound, the fewer the better. Not to mention with the news of Hank, there was no way he would trust him on a mission like this.

  Richards would have guards, land mines, trip wires, heat sensors, and every other security precaution you could think of, and then some. The man redefined paranoia. Charlie loaded them up in an older model truck with a lead lined uranium core and headed out. From the airfield it was still an hour’s drive.

  They breached the first part of the perimeter with ease, the fence was more a protective measure to keep zombies out, or Charlie thought thinking about the cargo, perhaps it was to keep them in. Trevor pulled out a small device that picked up the tiniest of signals from implants to land mines.

  He scanned the area and nothing appeared, Charlie decided to move forward first. After twenty feet, he didn’t blow up so motioned for the others to follow. Something wasn’t sitting right in his gut, a simple fence, land mines removed, no cameras, and this was one of the most secure compounds Richards ran. The place was his home base.

  His source on the inside told him there were several security measures in place, but from what he could see, they’d either been removed or what awaited them would be something they didn’t expect.

  One of the storage buildings was about four hundred yards in front of them, Charlie flipped down his glasses and checked out the area. Lots of movement, most of it below room temperature.

  The wind carried the unmistakable smell of death. Charlie formulated an idea as to why security was so lax. Two smaller bodies approached at a fast pace, then others, all on the cool side.

  “Damn, they infected dogs
, get ready.”

  All three pulled out their guns and affixed their masks. Seconds later they were surrounded by five snarling dogs, ribs visible through their skin. One of them missed an eye, and had a portion of its stomach hanging out a hole in its side.

  Charlie knew they needed to put them down, and fast, problem was they needed to do it quietly as possible. He knew they would run into problems, and breaching 101 made bringing silenced weapons a must. However, with the snarling of the dogs, the risk of being heard was still there.

  One of the animals leapt at Mona, Charlie fired and the dog’s head shattered, bits of bone and teeth splattered them all. The other dogs went into a frenzy. Before any of them had a chance to fire again Jack screamed as one latched onto his arm. Charlie turned, aimed, but decided the shot was too risky. He holstered his weapon as Mona and Trevor popped off a few rounds at the remaining canines. Charlie ran to Jack, pulling his knife out on the run. He rammed it into the head of the zombie dog and twisted, the skull gave way like wet clay and brain matter oozed out.

  The body fell to the ground twitching then stopped moving. Charlie stole a glance at Mona and Trevor, glad to see they were unharmed, and only one of the damn creatures was left. He examined the area wondering if there would be more, he knew in his gut there would be.

  A hand gripped him and he looked at Jack, blood poured from his arm. The dog’s teeth had been strong enough to break through the protective gear they wore. Charlie stared at his friend, his comrade for the last four years and didn’t know what to say.

  As Jack turned, he looked at Charlie. “Do it,” he said.

  Charlie pulled his gun out and shot his friend point blank. More to deal with later, no time for feelings right now, there was a mission to complete. He turned to face Mona and Trevor when he heard the sounds of more zombie canines heading for them.

  The three turned to see at least a dozen of them in different stages of decomposition. Charlie noticed an eerie syncing to their movements, like they were thinking together, and anticipating, then he saw proof. The dogs moved so they surrounded the three of them, not going in for a direct attack. The damn things could plan.

  He’d never noticed it in the zombies before, but he’d never looked for it either, too busy killing them to save his ass. Perhaps, if he’d observed them he might have realized something, might have learned this tidbit of information before he was surrounded by a pack of undead guard dogs.

  This would be interesting.

  * * *

  “Lisa, you don’t mind me calling you that do you? Though I could get used to Ally, such a pretty name.”

  Ally let the revulsion show as he licked the side of her face. He’d been taunting her about Marcus for the last half hour, but she hadn’t let him get the better of her. While he prattled on enjoying the sound of his voice, she imagined hundreds of ways to kill him.

  Outside she heard snarls and the sounds of claws on wood. What did Richards do, or more aptly what did he plan to do?

  “When I saw the image of you I couldn’t believe it, of course it was too late to do anything about it, you were already out at sea,” he said.

  He stood in front of her leaning on his desk. He took a puff of his cigar and blew the smoke toward her. Ally wanted nothing more than to rip the smirk off his face and shove it up his ass.

  She sat across from the man responsible for the death of Marcus, Brian, Nina, and many other friends. The bile in her stomach rose and she struggled to keep it down.

  “Part of me was happy you were dead, another part disappointed. Now that you’re sitting here in front of me, I can’t decide what I feel. Tell me, what’s it like seeing me after so long?”

  “Nothing.” She knew a non-response would irritate him more than any nasty comment.

  Not to mention her anger prevented her from forming a coherent string of words into a sentence.

  “So wilful, then again you always were. Did you ever wonder why your grandfather left you to us? Did it ever occur to you he wanted you to serve a higher purpose? Did he ever tell you what happened to your parents?”

  Ally’s curiosity got the better of her, she could tamp down her anger about Marcus and pummel this piece of crap in front of her later for what he did. For years she’d wondered how her parents died, and why she went to the training camp instead of an orphanage. At the time she was too young to ask, and as she got older she learned it was smarter not to question things.

  “Oh, I see you’re interested, that’s a good start. Perhaps I’ll be able to convince you I’m not the enemy you think I am,” he said.

  “Are you being serious? You just told me part of you was happy to know I was dead, then you gloat about killing Marcus, and I’m supposed to choke down that you’re not the enemy I think you are?” She seethed inside, the man was a lunatic, but he might have answers to questions that plagued her the last twenty years.

  “Listen, you don’t have all the information. It’s easy to sit there and judge when you have half the picture, especially when it’s the pretty half everyone wants to see. However, the image I have is not so nice to look at, and the pieces in it might upset you.”

  Ally laughed. “You think after destroying my home, killing my friends and fiancé, you can upset me anymore?”

  Richards took a long drag on his cigar and blew it out with a contemplative look. Ally took a moment to look him over as he got lost in his thoughts. The years hadn’t been kind to him, more wrinkles than scars littered his face, and his hair was gray at the temples.

  “I was friends with your father, we joined this group together. It’s how he met your mother. In fact, she was the daughter of one of the elder members.”

  Ally shook her head. “No, you’re full of it, my father would never be a part of something like this. He would never agree to assassinations and bombings.”

  “That came later, when we first joined we were idealistic, much like you were. We were going to change the world. One day we got an assignment, a simple in an out bomb planting to spook some higher ups touring the poor areas and kissing babies for image ops.”

  Richards stopped and Ally noticed he was staring at a place in time, not the room. His eyes clouded over and a vacant look took over. Just as quick as it came, it disappeared and his eyes turned into the black voids she knew too well.

  “Your dad must have messed up on the timer, your parents didn’t get out in time and were killed in the blast. I wanted to take you in, but your grandfather refused, ‘too young,’ he said. Then when he passed away, per your father’s instructions, you were given to us.”

  Ally felt sick, none of this was right. Her parents had signed her over to this life, what the hell was going on? Her whole life had been fake? A fantasy of a loving family torn apart too young, a grandfather who doted on her with a poor heart.

  None of it was true, she had been fated to end up in the militia no matter what happened. She shook her head as if it would erase the things Richards was telling her, but nothing happened other than her headache coming back. No, he was screwing with her mind.

  “Why should I believe you? What you’re saying makes no sense.”

  Richards nodded and walked to the back of his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a data stick. Inserting it into his desk a 3D image of the contents popped up. Ally scanned the documents, all of them supporting what the bastard in front of her claimed. But she was no fool, things like this were easy to manipulate and falsify.

  “You’ll never make me believe my parents wanted this kind of life for me.”

  “I can see you’re trying to take it all in, must be hard. I didn’t want to tell you, at least not until you were older. You were so promising, had a natural ability, but then you went and screwed it all up by leaving. Do you know what it was like for me to have to chase down my dead best friend’s daughter with kill orders?” he roared at her.

  “You bastard, you were no best friend to him. If you were, you would’ve let me go, and made sure I didn’t hav
e a life like this,” Ally blared back.

  “Things changed, we had to adapt as a group to become a real threat. To ensure a stronger America we had to alter the way things were done. Your parents would have understood.”

  “Never, you’re a psycho, and nothing like them.”

  Richards raised his hand and slapped her across the face. Her head rocked to the side, vision spotty. Great, now the fun begins.

  * * *

  Charlie kicked a zombie dog in the back and heard the spine crack. The wound only slowed the hellish creature. He stomped on its head to put it out of its misery.

  He spared a moment to see how Trevor and Mona were holding up. He felt guilty at first about what they did with Jack, but their options were limited. Surrounded by more than twenty dogs something drastic needed to be done.

  Without thinking Charlie told them to cover him. He knelt and unzipped the chest gear on Jack. Unsheathing his knife he sent a silent prayer of apology up to his friend as he drove the blade into his sternum and brought it down to his gut. When he reached the stomach he twisted it around and pulled out as many of the inner guts of his friend as possible.

  Mona and Trevor looked at him with expressions of disgust, but as the dogs approached their focus became divided between the freshly spilt blood, and their live prey. Understanding dawned on them, and they took a triangular stance, each of their backs to one another.

  At first the shots were easy, there were so many of them to pick from. As the undead canine mob thinned out, and Jack’s body lay there shredded to bits, their level of danger increased.

  Charlie knew letting the beasts feed would make them stronger, but it was a tactical decision he’d had seconds to make. Now they found themselves surrounded by invigorated, smart, and ever-hungry zombie mutts.