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Zombie Attack! Box Set (Books 1-3)

Page 7

by Devan Sagliani


  “Cool,” I said. “I’m gonna go talk to him. Be back down in a minute.”

  “Okay,” Benji replied, turning back to his game without a care in the world. It was nice to see him finally getting to be a kid again. I could hear the sound of gold coins being snatched up as I hit the top of the stairs.

  There was a hallway with an open door at the end. My instincts told me that John was in there, but I stopped at the first door and pulled it open anyway. I imagined that I’d find a bedroom just like the one I slept in the night before. Sure enough, there was a bed in there. The rest was not at all what I expected.

  Huge red and black flags hung from the ceiling with swastikas in the middle of them. I stood there in shock and looked around the room, seeing that it was stuffed from floor to ceiling with Nazi war memorabilia. There were SS soldiers’ uniforms, weapons, even books. My eyes came to rest on the spine of one sticking out of the bookshelf —Mein Kampf.

  Maybe this is why they hate the racially diverse Unity Gang so much, I thought. John and his friends are white supremacists!

  The tiny little spark of suspicion that I had been harboring quickly blossomed into a fire of distrust. A flurry of wild thoughts ran through my mind as I tried to recall if I had seen a single person who wasn’t white since we’d hooked up with John. None came to mind.

  I knew there was a reason not to like this guy. He’s a racist! That’s why he called the war with the Unity Gang “Helter Skelter.” It’s a code phrase for a race war! He’s like Charlie Manson or something. All those women are probably his sex slaves. I’ve got to get Benji and get out of here as fast as I can.

  I knew I couldn’t leave without my sword. I’d need a plan. We couldn’t just bolt without attracting attention. This was bad! Cold chills ran down my spine as I felt a warm hand clasp me by the shoulder. I was totally screwed!

  “So,” John said in a deep, steady voice. “You’ve found our secret room.”

  Chapter Seven

  I spun around to look directly into John’s clear, cold, blue Irish eyes.

  “Your secret room?” I sputtered. “You’re into this stuff?” The words were out before I could take them back.

  So much for playing it cool, I thought.

  John laughed so hard his whole body shook.

  “It’s a joke,” he said when he recovered. “Lighten up.”

  “So why is it here?”.

  “We didn’t put it there,” he roared. “I promise you that. These aren’t our homes. We took over this whole block after Z-Day. We are still finding surprises.”

  “So why haven’t you cleaned it out?” It seemed like an innocent enough question to me, but I could see I was starting to push his buttons.

  Good to know I can, I thought. That might come in handy later.

  “Believe it or not, we’ve got plenty to worry about right now,” he spat, trying to hide his obvious frustration. “We’ll get around to it when things slow down. I promise.”

  “Got it,” I said, trying to act like a dumb kid as I turned and looked down at my sneakers.

  “Come on then,” he ordered. “My office is at the end of the hall. I wanna talk with you a spell.”

  We walked to the back of the hallway and into his office. After the Nazi war room, it was a bit disappointing how humdrum the place was. There was a map of the city with a bunch of stuff scribbled on it and crossed out. From the looks of things, it had been a hard month. John sat down behind the desk and motioned for me to take a chair as well. I sat and stared at him.

  “So how do you like our fair city so far?” He grinned. “Not so shabby? Must be nice waking up without worrying that a zombie is gonna chew your head off.”

  “Where is my blade?” I didn’t hesitate. I was prepared to go to war to get my katana back.

  “It’s safe,” he casually countered.

  “Why did you take it from me? You had no right.”

  “It’s been decided that the citizens of New Lompoc shouldn’t be armed,” John said, casually trying to brush it off.

  “Well I am not a citizen.”

  “No,” he replied, leaning forward. “You are a guest.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms.

  “As I was saying, only armed patrols are allowed to carry weapons.”

  “That’s insane,” I interrupted. “So you are telling me that if a wild pack of zombies were to march through town, the people wouldn’t be allowed to defend themselves? Why? Are you really that threatened they might question your authority?”

  “First of all,” he managed through gritted teeth, the note of agitation no longer hidden in his usually honeyed voice, “there is no such thing as a zombie horde.”

  “Yeah? Then what ran us out of Vandenberg?”

  “Second.” He ignored my taunt. “The armed patrols of New Lompoc are more than equipped to handle the Unity Gang threat. Since we took over this territory we haven’t had a single attack—zom or human related. The people are happy again. Life is finally returning to some sort of normalcy. You’d see that if you weren’t looking for some way to tear us down.”

  “So it’s simply share and share alike?”

  “Pretty much,” John said. “I get the feeling that you don’t trust me much. I can’t say given what I hear you’ve been through that I blame you entirely. What is it going to take to win you over?”

  “You could start by giving me back my blade,” I said without hesitation a second time.

  John laughed.

  “All things in due time,” he replied, a knowing grin on his face. “For now, I was hoping you’d be interested in sticking around and helping out a bit. Word has it you are both a fierce warrior and a loyal friend.”

  I thought about Sam the minute he said it. God, I hope Benji didn’t mention him.

  “Actually, I have other plans, if you don’t mind.”

  “You mean your brother in Hueneme?”

  “That’s right,” I answered back curtly. “If you really want to help me out you’ll hook me up with a car and send me and Benji on our way.”

  “You and Benji?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re not interested in taking the twins with you then?”

  “That’s up to them. They were kind of a last minute addition, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do indeed.” John winked. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t let you leave right now.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “It’s not like that, Xander.” He sighed. “Things are rarely as simple as they seem.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “Our little slice of paradise is pretty hot right now.” He turned around and pointed to the map behind him. “The Unity Gang controls most of the west of what used to be Lompoc. We control most of the east. We control the northern entrance, to a degree. They still find ways to get around us. They control the southern exit, by and large.”

  “So we’ll go around them,” I suggested.

  “It’s not that easy,” he continued. “There are no side roads that lead out. Just a wasteland of trails and hills. If the bikers don’t get you, the cannibals might. And let’s not forget that the Unity Gang isn’t all that concerned with killing zombies. The hills just south of here are crawling with them. Some say the bikers are like old fashioned hillbillies. They set up shacks in the woods and keep zombies tied to the front porch as pets or guard dogs.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I admitted.

  “It’s true,” John said in earnest. “Some even think they are good luck. Others fight them in pits or cages like wild animals, betting on who will win.”

  “Money doesn’t mean anything now,” I said. “What’s the point of gambling?”

  “They don’t use money,” John said. “Out in the badlands people trade sexual favors, food, booze, bikes, and just about anything else they can get their hands on. I’ve even heard stories of bikers gambling away their kids as slave labor to other gang members.”
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  “But why?”

  “Who knows. People with addictive personalities gotta find ways to keep feeding their disorder, end of the world or not. It’s like a sickness.”

  “We can’t stay here forever, John,” I pointed out. “I know you want to convert me to your way of life, but I’m on a mission.”

  “Am I being that obvious?”

  “Yeah, actually you are.”

  “Well,” he said sheepishly, “can you blame me? You’re very gifted for a young man your age. I hear you are good in a fight as well. That you stick up for your friends. That’s brave. We could use good people like you. I’m fighting a war here. I’m trying to bring back a small piece of what we once had. You could be a big part of that. Then, when things calm down, when they are more under control, you can go on your way. What do you think?”

  There was a twinkle in his eyes as he made his obviously contrived confession. He had all the makings of a cult leader. It was clear now why he was in charge. He was charismatic. Other guys might be bigger or stronger or better fighters, but in the end he was clearly the brains of the operation as far as New Lompoc was concerned.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “This isn’t my war. This isn’t my town. I’m just passing through. I have to get to my brother. I can’t afford to get caught up in your fight.”

  “I understand.” He sounded disappointed.

  “So you’ll let us go then?”

  “Of course. I’m not running a prison camp here.”

  “And my sword?”

  “You can have it back when you go.”

  Something’s not adding up here, I thought. This just seems too easy all of a sudden.

  “Well then,” I said, standing up. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Good luck with New Lompoc. Now if you will just give us a car and my katana we’ll be on our way.”

  John smiled but didn’t move. “I told you. You can’t leave right now. The Unity Gang controls the southern corridor. For the time being, you’re stuck with us.”

  Here we go, I thought.

  “So I’m just supposed to stay here forever?”

  “I’m working on a plan to take back the main highway,” he told me. “I was hoping to get some help from you, maybe change your status from civilian guest to patrol?”

  “How do I know you’re not just making all this up to try to trick me into staying?”

  “I am so glad you asked that,” he replied, standing up. “I’ve been dying to show you around. Let’s take a ride.”

  We walked back downstairs. I called out to Benji to come with us. John looked pensive for a minute, like he wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Why do you have a Nintendo Wii?”

  “It’s for first person shooters.” John grinned. “You know, to train up new recruits? We can’t afford to waste real ammunition rounds training in the field, so we do most of them here. Only Benji wasn’t interested in that so he found the one game not suitable for training at all. He’s been at it for hours now.”

  We both laughed. John opened the door and walked out. I followed after him, turning my head from the living room where Benji was saving his game play and crashing into a solid wall of muscle. Looking up, I saw a heavily tattooed man with rippling muscles in a torn Gold’s Gym t-shirt. He had a gun belt on with two firearms showing and a large sword on his back. My katana.

  “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty herself,” he said, flashing a crooked smile down at me.

  Anger flooded through me, robbing me of all reason as I lashed out at him.

  “Give it back to me now!” I pounded both fists into his chest but he didn’t budge an inch.

  “Someone sure is grumpy first thing in the morning,” the man spoke in a singsong voice. “After all the sleep you got I assumed you’d be in better spirits.”

  I stared at him in shock.

  John stepped in to keep the peace. “This is Tank. You met him last night. He is my first in command. The other man in the truck was Bruiser.” John motioned off to the side where an almost equally large man stood smiling at us behind dark sunglasses.

  “Give me my sword,” I said in a threatening voice to Tank.

  He chuckled. “Nice to meet you too.” He stuck out his hand and I slapped it away. My hand stung from the blow. It was like slapping a block of iron. He chuckled again, casting a glance around at the others who were shaking their heads in disbelief at my gall.

  “I told you he had a lot of fire,” John bragged.

  “Chill now for a minute,” Tank back peddled. “I’m just holding on to it until John says you can have it back. We share weapons here, like everything else. I saw this beauty sitting there and I knew it was important. I didn’t want anyone else to get a hold of it and damage the blade. Last thing you need is some commando using it to chop wood or pop open locked doors. A masterpiece like this needs to be handled delicately, like a lady.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Now hand it over.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Tank began. “Why don’t we spar for it? You win, you get it back with no questions asked. If I win, I will keep holding on to it for a while. Deal?” He looked over to John to see if he would object, but he nodded his assent. I didn’t know what Benji had told them but it must have been good. They were all eager to see what kinds of tricks I had up my sleeves.

  “Fine by me,” I agreed, stepping back and cracking my knuckles.

  Tank looked surprised by my response.

  I’m probably the first guy to ever challenge him head on, I thought. If not the first, at least the smallest and youngest . . . and maybe the stupidest.

  I walked out onto the lawn and began to stretch. Tank took off his gun belt and set it gingerly on the ground before handing my sword to John to hold. He twisted his neck to the side and it gave a loud pop. I took up my first pose and let him walk toward me, like a moving brick wall made out of human muscle. For a split second I thought about what a terrifying zombie he would make.

  “You want me to go easy on ya?” he asked, looking around to make sure everyone was watching as he popped his knuckles while mocking me.

  The words were barely out of his mouth when my left heel connected with his jaw. When I saw his head turning, taking his focus off of me, I’d stepped forward with my right foot and planted it firmly in the grass. Then I twisted my body as I brought my left leg around as fast as I could, bending at the waist and pivoting to let the loose leg swing freely toward my target—his fat head. I’d seen plenty of big guys taken down by kicks like these in MMA matches, but I wasn’t harboring any fantasies of a first round K.O. I didn’t have the kind of power needed in my legs to pull off a stunt like that, especially against an opponent his size. As my foot came within striking range of his face, I tensed up and let the heel smack him good and hard to get his attention. It was, for lack of a better term, a smashing success.

  I heard a loud crack as I followed through, spinning back into standing position, followed by a round of gasps from our onlookers. Tank’s head twisted to the side but he didn’t go down. He turned back toward me with an entirely different kind of smile. One I was certain his enemies knew only too well just before they died.

  “Okay ya little bastard.” He spat blood on the grass. “You wanna play like a big boy. Just don’t cry when ya get hurt.”

  He advanced toward me, eager to land his first blow with those meaty paws. I tried to sweep his leg but it didn’t budge. Instead, I was knocked off balance and he shoved me over onto the grass. He attempted to bring his weight down on my elbow first, maybe catch me in the head or the back of my shoulders, but I rolled out of the way and he landed on his ass. I didn’t move fast enough though and he was able to pin me with his upper body and keep me from wriggling loose. I punched out feebly at him with my left hand, but he caught it in his mitt-sized palm and squeezed until shivers of raw pain shot down my arm. The more I pulled to free myself, the worse the agony was.
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br />   A plan formed in the back of my mind. If I could roll over in his direction, maybe I could flip my body around and knock him over with both feet.

  Yeah, I thought. And maybe you’ll dislocate your shoulder in the process.

  But I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. I wasn’t leaving without my blade!

  I started to twist toward him, but he must have sensed my plan. He moved so fast it blew my mind. I hadn’t imagined a guy his size could be so agile! He spun around and locked my arm up, crushing my head into the grass with one of his gigantic legs at the same time. Leaning back, he held me in an arm bar. The pain was beyond anything I could describe. He was literally ripping my arm off! I thrashed in pure agony, screaming at the top of my lungs and beating the ground. All the air seemed to go out of my body and, for a moment, I thought I was going to pass out. Flashes of light began to pop behind my eyes.

  “Say Uncle,” Tank teased.

  “No!” I managed. He leaned back again and the pain returned like a wave of sickness. “UNCLE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs while I slapped at the soft grass.

  Instantly, he let up and jumped to his feet. Extending his hand, he offered to help me stand. My first instinct was to try to slap it away again, but I felt dizzy. I reached out to grab his palm, trying to keep the world from spinning.

  “Whoa there,” John cautioned, stepping forward to help. “Easy.”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. Pain was still tingling through my arm and shoulder, but the humiliation was far worse than anything. Sure he was bigger than me, but that wasn’t the point. Fighting isn’t about size. It’s about smarts. I’d seen small wiry monks easily defeat muscle bound madmen because they were smarter, faster, and most of all more controlled. I’d been none of those things.

  If Moto could see me now he would be disappointed, I thought.

  I opened my eyes and stood up. Tank rubbed his jaw with one hand and held me up with the other.

  “Nice kick,” he admitted, “even if it was kind of a cheap shot.”

  “Thanks,” I countered. “Can I have my sword back now?”

  “Sorry, but where I come from a deal is a deal,” he said with a bloody smile. “Better luck next time.”

 

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