Z-Boat (Book 2): Z-Topia

by Suzanne Robb

  She laid out the puzzle pieces in her head and tried to put them together. Somehow, some way, they made a picture. Allgood and Joseph wanted the power seat, that was a given. There was someone else though. Someone no one would suspect. Someone who was pulling the strings on both sides.

  She thought of the man talking in the closet, the one she assumed to be Richards. But what if she was wrong? What if it was another spy talking to someone in Allgood’s group? Chances were whoever wanted to take over was at the studio with her. Her list wasn’t narrowed down at all.

  Then there was the mystery of why Washington Old was the place to go. She tried to remember everything she learned in history lessons and from her grandfather. Aside from housing the leader of the country, a symbol of one of the super powers at the time, it was also home to something called the Pentagram. No, that wasn’t right, it was given the nickname after the environmental war, when they decreed North America evil.

  The Pentagon. That was it. A security building, but the place had been abandoned for a hundred years. Then again, maybe not. Her grandfather told her die hard believers refused to leave their posts, stories about old men manning the grounds for the day a leader returned. Fat chance they stuck around this long, no matter how devoted. She laughed at the thought. The only thing roaming the grounds were zombies, which brought her to her last puzzle piece. The creature who refused to die. A secret file hidden on one of Williams’s data sticks spoke of an experiment. Most of it had been scrubbed, but what she salvaged drew a disturbing picture. They experimented on zombies in an attempt to control them. The result was some sort of ultra-zombie.

  According to the data it was vulnerable to the decomposition seen in what they called “regulars,” but at a slower rate. They were harder to kill because some sort of hardening of their bones occurred, and to top it off they were a hell of a lot smarter. They named it an “alter” and as of the last update it was still on the loose in Europe infecting people at an astounding rate.

  Well, they were here now. Someone infected must have taken a transport over here and now everybody got to share in the fun. She closed the display and gazed out the window. Barren wastelands, bits of metal leaning against one another to create a home, concrete monuments to what once was.

  What if one of the altered got hold of Joseph and his crew? Then again he knew about them, he had his fingers in all the pies as her grandfather would have said. No matter what, all paths of thought led back to the Israeli firm leader.

  “Richards, we hate each other, right?”

  He looked at her with a crooked grin. “I guess.”

  “We also have no reason to trust one another.”

  “Right again.”

  “Yet, we’re the only ones who are actually trying to do the right thing. I know why I am, now tell me why the hell you are?”

  Richards glanced at her with a gleam in his eyes. “What? You don’t think people can change? How about I saw the light? Or maybe, just maybe, I don’t like some prick trying to kill me then taking over my men. Good or bad, right or wrong, I want this to end.”

  Ally thought about his answer for a few seconds, but it didn’t sit right.

  “I don’t buy it, there’s something else at stake for you.”

  “It’s personal, that’s all you need to know.”

  Ally laughed and went back to staring out the window. The man had no idea what personal was. Losing your fiancé was personal. Losing your home and friends was personal. Being ticked off at someone for taking your favorite toy, was not personal.

  “Were a couple hours out from Washington Old, you have a particular destination in mind?”

  Ally called up the map overlay on the windshield and let the condition of the city soak in. For decades it had been abandoned, some areas still smouldered from either the missiles, riots, or other acts of vandalism.

  She found the building she was looking for and punched in the coordinates. The Pentagon, more like a triangle now, was in better shape than most of the others. She found a back way in free of most of the wrecks and craters they were discovering while they drove. There was no way to be sure what she would find, but something in her gut told her to go.

  “What the hell are we going there for? You know the others are heading for the House.”

  “I’m sure they are, but they’ll be expecting us, either as friends or enemies. I’d rather not find out the hard way.”

  Richards let the car go into auto mode as they pulled out more rations. Ally figured they might as well eat now, who knew when they would get a chance to again. She held out her hand, happy to see the shaking was minimal.

  * * *

  Joseph walked behind Trevor without a care in the world. They’d arrived at the Old House and within moments he would take the seat of power and have control over this country and the world. Or at least he would broadcast from here with the iconic symbol behind him to rally support.

  He admitted to being worried at first. Trevor’s behavior was odd to say the least, but nothing happened. They ate a few rations, took a nap, and before he knew it they approached the Old House.

  For generations his family passed down a story about a document held here. A piece of paper so powerful an entire nation based its political system on it for centuries. Of course, arrogance got the better of them, so he would be extra careful not to make the mistakes of his ancestors.

  Hank followed along, obedient as ever. Joseph thought he might make a good servant, or secretary.

  Thoughts of walking into the office in the shape of an oval bounced around in his head. When the tall white columns came into view he sighed. The patriot in him wanted to stop and salute the tall pole that once held the symbol of peace and democracy.

  Of course he would have it altered, something to reflect his beliefs a bit more. The giant craters did not deter him, nor did the fact the building was in shambles. The walls gone, the columns holding up nothing but air.

  When they entered the first signs they were not alone echoed around the structure. Joseph smiled, it was time.

  “Prepare yourself, gentlemen. We’re going to have a fight soon. A fight to determine the rightful leader of this country.”

  Hank screamed, and all heads turned in his direction. A man approached them. His lower jaw gone, throat ripped out.

  Trevor fired a shot into the thing’s head. “Hank, hang out in the back. If we’re lucky your screams only alerted half the undead population that we’re here.”

  “Take care of the problem, clear the building, then set up a place you can defend with relative ease. If my sources are right, and they always are, more company will be here soon.

  * * *

  Dale watched as night fell. The sky shrouded them in total blackness, the only source of light coming from the headlights of their car. Janelle slept with her head against the window.

  The silence in the car made him antsy, for over three hours not a single word had passed someone’s lips. He thought about what they’d seen, the men left behind, and the ones catching up.

  How many of the experimental zombies were there? Did they spread as fast as the others? Could the “regulars” be mutated? How the hell were they supposed to fight them?

  “Rogers, that weapon you used back at the studio, where did you get it?” Dale asked.

  A slight hesitation. “One of the guys gave it to me, it’s some sort of prototype. Works pretty damn good if you ask me.”

  “Yes, it does, so there’s only the one?”

  “There’s a case of them in the back of the car, I loaded it before we left. We have eleven total.”

  Dale thought about this. A good number, but something was off. Rogers came out of nowhere and took over his role as leader. Then again Landers didn’t seem the cut and run sort either. Seems like no one knew how to act anymore, or they were showing their true colors. If the latter part was true, things were unraveling sooner than he expected. They needed to get to the capital city now.

  “How far o
ut are we from our destination?”

  Rogers punched in some numbers on the display panel. “We’re ninety-eight miles away, but the debris, wreckage, and giant holes are delaying us. Navigating in the dark will contribute to the problem as well. I’d say we have three or four hours at least.”

  “Fine, just get us there.”

  He didn’t add in that when they hit the capitol the shit was going to hit the fan.

  * * *

  Time was short and he needed to send a warning that plans had changed. He tapped out a message hoping the person on the other end would be able to decipher it.

  As soon as he finished the car veered off the road to avoid a crater. He was getting close and with every mile the pit in his stomach grew deeper. Things weren’t supposed to be unfolding this way, and when he arrived he’d have to figure out a way to gain the upper hand.

  * * *

  Ally knew Richards was up to something, but couldn’t bring herself to care. If he wanted to play spy or mole or whatever the hell he was doing, so be it. There were other far more important things she needed to figure out. Most of the puzzle pieces fell into place, and the few stubborn ones would soon enough.

  The fight between Allgood and Joseph, could it be a hoax? Were they working together? Were they smart enough to pull off something this complicated? Would they put the risk of humanity’s future at stake for a stupid title? Was Richards part of it? No matter who it was she knew there was a second person involved, and it made her angry they fooled her.

  If lucky, she would be able to do a few good things when they arrived at the Pentagon. She hoped what she’d heard was right. Rumors started for a reason, and with luck the ones her grandfather told her were true.

  An hour and a half later they pulled up beside the building, or the remains of one. No longer white or majestic, the burned out remains resembled the scraps she’d salvaged from the bottom of the ocean when they needed extra money. Darkness shrouded the area and not a sound could be heard, no insects, gusts of wind. Nothing.

  Ally loaded up on weapons and made her way toward the building while keeping a wary eye on Richards.

  “Why here? This place has been abandoned for ages. Just look at it.”

  “Stay with the car. I really don’t care.”

  As she faced forward she felt icy fingers on her neck and knew she was close to something. She put on the multi-purpose glasses and took in as much of the area as possible.

  Rusted military vehicles stood guard against invisible forces, skeletons visible inside of some. The ground littered with holes, cracks, and scraps of metal. As she neared the building pieces of rebar stuck out of the ground almost fifty feet high. Chunks of cement scattered around like pieces of dust.

  The inside made bomb testing sites seem like safer living alternatives. Old electrical fixtures lay shattered on the ground, bits of glass were melted to the floor under their feet. Two full sides of the building were gone, but signs of reinforcement were visible, and new.

  Ally readjusted the lenses and noticed rust free metal bars being used to hold up weak areas and clear pathways with no dust on the floor. There were people here, she just didn’t know who. Were they hiding out? Descendants of those who refused to leave? Zombies looking for a meal? A snap behind her caused her to swing around and almost shoot Richards.

  “Hey, careful with that thing.”

  “Sorry.”

  Ally scanned the area to determine where the noise came from but saw nothing. She chalked it up to a condemned building making death rattles. She pressed on, squeezing through one of the doorways.

  The top part was cracked in the center above her, and the left side had given way long before she was born. The hallway she entered was dark and stale air hung heavy against her skin.

  “What the hell are we doing here? We should be at the other place,” Richards hissed behind her.

  Ally ignored him. She could see footprints and intended to find out who they belonged to. Richards saved her life, and so far didn’t ditch her, but it didn’t mean he was a changed man. The more she thought about it, the more of an act it seemed. He was too nice, too perfect.

  A shadow moved ahead of her and she slowed her movements. Richards followed suit and she heard him pull out his weapon. A few of the doors they passed were open, the insides burned and looted long ago. A tremor passed through her hands and she made a fist to fight it off. With a clear head she hated that she used the Morphoid as a crutch, though the benefits of less fear and not thinking about Marcus were nice. She owed Richards a thank you, but would never give him one and he knew it. Standing here, adrenaline coursed through her, the unknown of what awaited them kept her alert. Approaching what appeared to be a barrier she realized what the shadow was.

  “Richards, get ready.”

  “Crap, Ally, why can’t we just go back?”

  Ally fired the first shot hoping to get the zombies to move toward them and causing a bottleneck of sorts at the splintered doorway. Everything worked until several more came out of one of the entryways she hadn’t gone far enough to investigate. Between her and Richards at least fifteen went down. Their bodies in such poor shape bullets penetrated their skulls as if the bones were nothing but wet paper.

  Within seconds they were mere feet away from about half a dozen more zombies, not great odds, but not the worst. Ally’s weapon clicked.

  “I’m out, cover me.”

  She unsheathed the machete she’d taken from the studio. These things were a waste of a bullet if she could slice their heads off with no effort. Something latched onto her leg. She didn’t bother to look down, just stomped with her foot. The smell made her choke, but Richards’s scream made her pull it together. He had two zombies on him. He bashed the skull of one with the butt of his weapon and the cranium cracked like an egg, inky green liquid pouring out and covering the front of his shirt.

  Ally lopped the head off of the other one as it was about to take a chunk out of Richards’s backside.

  There were four left, and Ally swung around so she would at least go down swinging. Richards tried to reload his gun, the task made more difficult due to the trembling of his hands.

  A swing and the machete cut a smooth swath through the face of what once was a waitress named “Cathy.” As the cut half of her face slid to the ground the rest of the body crumpled.

  “Richards, get it together or we’re going to die!”

  Ally smelled the stench a second before two hands grabbed her shoulders. She attempted to wiggle free from the grip, but another set of slippery fingers wrapped around her wrists. Tilting her head at Richards she saw he had been overtaken as well.

  She kicked out and heard the satisfying crunch of a knee bending the other way. The damn thing didn’t go down though. She rammed her foot behind her again to try to knock at least one of the damn things off balance.

  She felt the hand on her left wrist loosen, or to be more accurate the zombie’s skin slipped off and fell to the ground. Richards screamed, but she didn’t have the time to do anything. Holding off these two was keeping her busy, if the guy couldn’t take care of himself—not her responsibility.

  Leaning forward as far as possible to avoid becoming a tasty snack, Ally tried to use her left shoulder to keep some space between her and one of the things attacking her. She felt a strange sensation on her right arm and gazed down, her forearm in the mouth of the one holding her hands.

  She renewed her struggle, but it was hopeless. She reached with her left hand and grabbed a small knife. There was enough room to bring it up and jab it into the eye of the biter. A small pop and fluid spurted out as she drove the small blade in as far as she could. A few twitches and it fell to the ground—the weapon slipping out of her hand.

  “Ally, I can’t hold these things off any longer.”

  “I’m kind of busy.”

  Ally spared a second to glance at her forearm, glad to see the bracer protected her from being bit. She regretted not holding the blade tighter,
then again it would not have done a whole lot of good right now.

  A loud bang echoed down the corridor and Ally wondered how the hell Richards freed himself and reloaded his weapon in such a short period of time. When she wrestled with the corpse trying to eat her, cracked teeth and spittle flying into her face, she chanced a look next to her.

  Richards stood there with a blank expression, green bits of brain oozing down his face. Another shot and the zombie attacking her fell to the ground, the top of its skull plastered to the wall behind her. As the creature fell she watched, engrossed in the strange interplay of the bacteria with the brain inside the cranium.

  “Who the hell are you two and what do you want?” an angry male voice demanded.

  * * *

  “Sir, the Old House is within range. I suggest walking the rest of the way. The roadways are too jammed,” Rogers informed Dale.

  Dale hid the panic rising up in him like a million slithering snakes. “We’re going to take those guns right?”

  “Yes sir, we’ll all be armed.”

  Dale watched Rogers exit the driver’s seat and open the door for him. Janelle followed. Landers met them in the back, his body rigid and fingers tapping the roof of the truck. Rogers doled out the weapons, Dale almost dropping his.

  “They’re heavier than I expected.”

  “Just be careful with the damn thing.” Rogers slammed the hatch.

  “Right, careful. Rogers, lead the way. Consider yourself promoted.”

  “Are you serious? The guy is a moron. My men and I cleared the building, we spilt blood for you and this guy comes out of nowhere and you just promote him?”

  Dale watched Rogers aim the weapon at Landers. Instinct caused the other man to raise his and pull the trigger—nothing happened.

  “Did you really think I’d give you a loaded weapon after everything you’ve done?”