Z-Boat (Book 2): Z-Topia

by Suzanne Robb

  “I never ordered you to kill them. I thought that was an accident.”

  “You’re a bastard, Richards. You killed my wife,” Charlie interjected.

  Ally had it. “Enough! You’re all a bunch of puppets and don’t even realize it. Trevor, Richards is a prick and used you. Richards, you’ve been played by Allgood, and Charlie, I think it’s time you come clean about who you really work for.”

  Charlie worked his jaw a few seconds and Ally helped him out with an elbow to the nose.

  “I’m the good guy here, Ally, don’t tell me you believe any of the crap Erdman told you on your little stroll. He runs one of the main firms, he’s a power monger.”

  “Really? Then tell me why someone so powerful would be in the middle of the backwoods with us trying to protect you?”

  “You’re crazy. I don’t need help.” Charlie spat.

  Ally smiled. “I’m aware, in fact all of this was probably part of the plan. Get as many of the loose ends in one place and take care of them. Did you really love Clare, or was she a pawn? Part of this screwed up charade you’ve been playing?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Charlie isn’t smart enough to double-cross a three-year-old,” Richards said.

  “You fail to remember he was one of your prized pupils. He learned a whole lot more than you realize and put it to good use. Poor Charlie, follow him to make a difference. Poor Charlie, lost his wife. Poor Charlie, my ass. He’s been working for Allgood since the start and none of you figured it out,” Ally explained.

  Erdman came up next to her and grabbed her arm. “What are you talking about? Richards is the one working for Allgood.”

  “Oh, he is, but Allgood isn’t a stupid man. He knew the moment he was in position to take over he’d need an army to back him. Problem being the Americans disbanded theirs over two hundred years ago when they couldn’t afford it. But a militia would do just as well. All he needed to do was remove their leader so he could step in and dub them military personnel, declare Martial Law due to the zombie outbreak, and take over. Then Charlie would be put in charge since he doesn’t have a shady past, at least not one people can dig up.”

  “You have no proof, you’re just speculating. Allgood needs me. He’d never take me out of the equation. My men are loyal,” Richards blared.

  Ally grabbed Trevor’s display panel and held it up in front of her former leader. His eyes scanned over the network she’d uncovered of the men who’d declared their allegiance to Allgood if he succeeded in taking power. Their DNA seal a blood promise they renounced their loyalty to Richards.

  “I don’t… it can’t…”

  “Sucks don’t it?”

  Charlie lunged at Ally, a small razor blade in his hand. He slashed her face. They fell on top of an end table and it crumbled under their weight. Ally caught sight of the guard moving to help her.

  “Don’t, this prick’s mine,” she ground out.

  Charlie raised his arm again. “This is for nailing me to the wall you, bitch.”

  Ally arched her back and threw him off balance, the razor embedding into the floor next to her ear. She put her hands on his face, thumbs going for the eyes. He grunted with the effort to raise his body off of her then slammed a knee into her solar plexus.

  Black dots swam in her vision and each breath was agony. The persona of Finnegan fought her now, not the man she knew as Charlie. As she gained control of her breathing she focused on her next move. Wrestling on the ground was great, but she knew he had a plan, one that would kill them all so his mission would be carried out.

  “Erdman, get everyone out of here now. He’s got the place rigged to blow.”

  Charlie moved to the side and pulled a gun from a concealed area under one of the couches. She grabbed at it and pulled his arm so it was between the both of them. A crack filled the room, and the pain was immediate and intense.

  Ally looked with annoyance at the burn mark on her left shoulder, a dark red stain blossoming. Charlie’s laughter filled her ears. Reaching down she grabbed the knife she kept strapped to her thigh and brought it up into his chest. The laughter stopped and red frothy fluid bubbled out of his mouth.

  She stood on rubbery legs and took a closer look at the gunshot wound. She’d had worse. With quick movements she grabbed her bag, coat, and the data sticks off the table. The second she hit the threshold of the door she felt the heat of the explosion before she heard it.

  * * *

  Richards glared at Erdman and his guard. Everything had gone tits up and he had no way to get out of it. His men abandoned him, the man he thought was a fool masterminded his downfall. Life couldn’t get much worse, and then he saw Ally emerge from the cabin and cringed. A second later a bright light blinded him.

  In the chaos he thought about making an escape, but the sad reality was the only people he could trust were in front of him. The soldiers answered to Allgood now, and he was a marked man. As soon as the bastard realized Charlie, Finnegan… whatever the hell his name was failed, a new assassin would come.

  The air stank of phosphorous and toothpicks remained of the cabin. Ally saved his life, now he owed the bitch, something else to chalk up to it being the worst day ever. A moan to his left cut off his depressed musings and he saw Erdman’s guard trying pull a large piece of wood from his leg.

  Richards slapped at the mud on his pants and stood walking over to the injured man, he ignored the ringing in his ears. He knelt next to the man and grabbed the wood and yanked. The scream echoed throughout the area they were in. A second later the cocking of a gun stopped his movement.

  “Put it down or I’ll kill you,” said the deep voice of the one they called Hank.

  “Hey, I was trying to help him out. This was jammed in his thigh.” Richards held up the bloody piece of wood as proof.

  “Sure it was, back away from him and stay put.”

  * * *

  Ally tried to move and almost passed out. The pain radiating from her shoulders and back was enough to make her want to throw up. She grit her teeth through it and felt another unpleasant sensation. Looking down at her lower leg she saw a large shard of glass sticking out of her calf. Shatter proof, her ass.

  She wrapped her coat around it, now with burn holes—a few of them still smoked—and pulled it out. Her breath escaped her, but returned when the warmth of her blood ran down her leg and filled her boot.

  She ripped a length of cloth off of her shirt and wrapped it around the wound as tight as possible. Glancing around she didn’t know if she was happy or not no one was dead. Her situation had changed within seconds, and not for the better. She still had to play along and now that there were too many to pretend with, at least she could be herself. Whoever that was.

  The people she wanted to take her revenge on were dead, except Richards, but that could change. The man she thought a possible ally was a traitor of the worst kind. Erdman was turning out to be the only person she could trust, if only a little, and she had to figure out a way to deal with the aftermath of what happened at the cabin.

  With difficulty she got to her feet and thought about her options. She could quit, as satisfying as it might be to make Richards squirm, she was enjoying the fact he was a leader with no one to follow him. The man had to be pissed off beyond belief, and letting him sit and fester with the knowledge his men turned on him made her happy.

  She could help Erdman oust Allgood, but didn’t feel like going on another suicide mission so soon after the last one. Her aim was good, maybe there was a future in zombie hunting. So many options, none of them appealing.

  “Ally, you’re okay, thank God. How did you know about the explosives? ” Erdman asked her.

  “He let me sleep through the night, only one reason… he was busy doing something. The others were knocked out as well, and while we were fighting I knew someone like him would have a back-up plan, even if it meant his own death. He wanted you and Richards dead more than he wanted to live.”

  “Yeah, and all
his data from his life as Finnegan. We’ll never know who his contacts were.”

  Ally shook out her jacket and pulled it on. “Don’t see how it matters. Allgood did enough damage to public opinion when it comes to the firms, you have bigger issues to deal with than who is selling out who.”

  Erdman nodded as he wiped at a small cut above his eye. He turned to look at her, and she saw the question in his eyes before he asked it.

  “Help me take down Allgood. You seem like a good person. Hell, you just saved my life. I don’t have many allies, and I don’t trust anyone but Hank right now.”

  Ally shook her head. “It’s not my fight. I could care less who gets all the toys in the end. No one cares about the people, the planet, or the zombies. Everything is a news flash, but then back to regular programming. It’s like no one cares the world is being overtaken by these things.”

  “You’re wrong. I do care, but it was impossible to get anything done when the other two were working against my every move. As we speak Allgood is gaining the trust of the entire world, all for the purpose of putting them in the line of any zombie coming their way. Whoever leads the world now has to put the needs of the people first.”

  “It’s a nice speech, but I have yet to hear about a politician who gives more of a damn about people than the bottom line.”

  “If you give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you.”

  Ally stared at him. He had a kind face with few wrinkles around his eyes. She suspected he didn’t smile a lot after his family was killed. Dark brown eyes similar to her grandfather’s pulled her in. A large part of her, the sane part that went through hell the last few days wanted to say no, refuse all help. If she failed again, let him down, it would be on a global scale. She didn’t need extra guilt.

  Then she thought about the possibility, as small as it might be, that Erdman did give a damn. If she could help put someone in office who cared and did right by the citizens of the world, the scales might tip in her favor when judgement day came.

  She reached out a soot-covered hand and Erdman did the same. The deal was sealed, now what to do with Richards and Trevor? So many decisions to make, she popped another Morphoid, the pain in her leg was clouding her judgement.

  * * *

  Dale typed in the number for the seventh time, greeted again by the same recorded message. His contact was either ignoring him, or dead. The satellite images showed a blast at the location of Myer’s cabin, so he assumed the worst. Too bad, he’d been a reliable problem solver over the years. Maybe something went wrong and they were all killed. A smile spread across his face at the thought.

  A scream outside roused him from his musings. The zombie problem in the city was getting larger than anticipated. Some of them were proving to be more difficult to kill, and a lack of military presence wasn’t helping.

  He sent out a message to all of Richards’s men, confident their leader was dead, not that it mattered he had conscripted them to his service with a DNA seal. If they disobeyed him, they faced a death squad. He ordered them to go to their armory and meet him in Washington near the Old House. 5,986 responses received within five minutes, all affirmatives.

  A quick addendum to drag along any able bodied man found along the way. Since he was all the world had to look up to for guidance, initiating a draft to help save them would be seen as a small price to pay.

  “Sir, it’s time to go. The location’s been compromised.”

  Dale glanced at his guard, he hovered in the doorway with gore and bits of bone splattered across his uniform, a large chunk of his face missing. About to stand, Dale screamed when a zombie pushed his protector clear across the room.

  The intruder headed for Dale, but his man managed to put himself in the middle. Dale watched in horror as the large, well-trained guard was shredded. Bits of his neck were torn off, blood spurted everywhere, and his eyes remained open, vacant. Dale heard a rumor about experiments Williams ran to turn the things into weapons, from the looks of it he succeeded. This type of attack didn’t resemble anything he’d seen thus far.

  The zombie let the body fall and stared at Dale with an expression making Dale unsure if he should run or shit his pants. He’d never been this close to one before. The problem wasn’t that bad, only the poor were in danger, he didn’t account for this. He was supposed to have an armed militia at his disposal by this point, let a few billion people die, and then take out the monsters and be the hero the world needed. From what he witnessed his plan needed some serious retooling.

  Several screams were heard in the hallway and Dale scanned the room for an exit. As far as he knew zombies were fast, smart, and strong only when well fed or fresh. He watched the thing kneel down and punch a hole in his former guard’s chest. When it pulled out an organ of some sort Dale lost his breakfast.

  Think. He needed to use his head. Severe wounds to the head would take them down, but all he had was a plate and silverware. No way did he plan to get close enough to use a butter knife on the damn thing. As he stood frozen in place he saw the twitch of a black-clad leg and knew in seconds he would be trapped in a room with two zombies. Dale hyperventilated as the two advanced on him.

  He backed into a bureau and scared himself shitless when a vase fell over and shattered next to him. Two gunshots. Two zombies on the floor. Dale watched a young woman no more than twenty years old with shaking hands and a smoking gun. She wore knee-high black boots and a red mini skirt. Mesh stockings with holes and tears with matching top thrown over a grey t-shirt finished the outfit. Dale smiled, until she opened her mouth.

  “You said you would help us, now do something.”

  The girl shut the door and tried to move the bureau in front of it. She grunted with effort and he found himself excited by the sight of her. The filth and tattered clothes did nothing to hide her beauty.

  “You can start by moving your ass now, you know. This stuff is heavy.”

  “Right, sorry.”

  Not used to physical activity, at least of that kind, he helped as much as his weak body would allow. The door barricaded, the girl ran around the room checking the windows.

  “We’ll have to jump if we want to get out of here,” she said.

  “Are you insane? It’s a three story drop.”

  She shrugged. “What’s your plan then?”

  “We wait here until the rest of my guards show up.”

  A groan startled both of them. “Looks like one of them just arrived. Dammit, I should have seen that,” she muttered to herself as she pulled out her weapon.

  Dale watched as she aimed, then moved his eyes to the creature as it zeroed its attention on him. The room echoed as the shot rang out and the zombie’s head blew out from the left side. Bits of brain, an odd green color coated the walls.

  “Hey, Mr. Allgood, if you want to get out of here we need to go now.”

  The sight was horrific. He couldn’t tear his eyes off it. On the media shows and satellite images he was safe, distant. Being in the same room as one of them scared the crap out of him. He wondered how many other people felt like this, and thoughts of how to use it to his advantage swirled through his mind. People tended to make rash decisions when faced with dire situations.

  The girl tugged at his arm and he gazed into her big blue eyes, full of trust. He wondered about the best way to get her into bed.

  “Look, right below the window is a pile of trash. We jump, it breaks our fall, and we go to one of your armored vehicles. We can make it, I promise.”

  Dale nodded and watched as she lifted a chair and swung with her tiny body. Nothing happened, and the door began to give.

  “Shatterproof glass? What the hell for?” she said, annoyed.

  “A long time ago, when the firms took over and this country fell, those with money were concerned for their well-being. As a security precaution many upper scale places did everything in their power to protect their guests.”

  “You mean everything in their power to protect the rich, and don’t talk
to me like I’m an idiot child. I’m twenty-five, not that it matters. Unless we get that window open we’re going to die.”

  “Shoot it out. You know… with the weapon in your hand,” he said in a condescending tone.

  The girl glared at him, but said nothing. At least she was as smart he thought. He stood there waiting for her to do as she was told, unconsciously moving toward her as the onslaught continued on the other side of the door.

  “Bullets won’t work, it’s military grade. I’d need a handball to break it. You should know. You’ve used these things as a barrier to the lesser folk for years.”

  Dale felt panic rise and examined the room for any other way out. The vent was too high and far too small for him to fit in. The window was their only option. He looked at his guard and a thought formed.

  “Search him. He might have one of those handballs you’re talking about.”

  The girl raced to the bodies, checking the holster first to pick up a better weapon and some ammunition, a knife was strapped to her leg, and body armor placed over her top. She looked ridiculous, but he realized she could defend herself and was that much safer. Looking down at his suit and tie he wanted to slap himself for not having the foresight to do what she was doing. Then again, surviving was not a natural instinct to him.

  With trepidation he knelt beside her and felt around for something he could use, ignoring the gore and odd colored blood on them. A clunk was heard and a small round object rolled out of the soldier’s side pants pocket. Dale picked it up and passed it to the girl’s waiting hand.

  “This’ll work.” She smiled.

  She walked to the window with care. The thing was shiny, and had a small seam in the middle. The girl twisted it and red lights flashed in rapid succession. She left it on the sill and ran to the back corner motioning him to do the same.