George Washington Zombie Slayer

by Wiles, David

  “It’s time to leave,” Reebock said with a smile as he led the small group from the cabin.

  “What about the Redcoat guards?” Beyonce asked. “Are not they certain to recapture us and re-imprison us here again?”

  “That should not be a problem,” he said with a smile as they stepped outside. All of their guards and captors we asleep or fucked up entirely, and in no condition to stop them from leaving. In the dim, pre-dawn, light, the small group snuck back into the American lines, entirely unseen.

  Only a few British sentries were awake at dawn to observe a tall man in a blue hood walking proudly from a recent fight. Although his identity was concealed, all the soldiers had seen him about camp for the last several days. One of the sentries approached him as he walked towards the American lines.

  “I have killed General George Washington,” the blue-hooded man said proudly.

  Chapter 69

  George Washington’s Final Battle

  As he fought in mortal combat by sword with the blue-hooded man atop the clock tower in the center of Yorktown, George Washington realized that this individual was no ordinary foe. His enemy had been well trained in the arts of ninja combat, in the same manner that George Washington had been.

  “You fight well,” Washington complimented the man as they crossed swords repeatedly.

  “You sound surprised,” the hooded man said as he dodged and parried each of Washington’s attacks. “Did you think you were the only American who had been trained as a ninja?” the hooded man asked.

  George Washington then remembered a story Jefferson had told him during his own ninja training, about a small, American boy who had come to Japan many years ago to learn the ways of the ninja. That boy was a remarkable student, but had been turned to the dark side by ambition, anger and greed, and he fled Japan before his own teachers could stop him. It was now certain that this evil boy of legend, now grown into adulthood, was Washington’s foe.

  “I would never have believed that one with true ninja training would fight for these British cocksuckers,” Washington said mockingly. “Not even a ninja traitor who was turned to the dark side.”

  “You are the real traitor here,” the blue-hooded man replied, “for opposing the King!”

  “And you are a coward, Sir,” Washington said, “who is scared even to show his face.”

  “Do you wish to know my identity?” the blue-hooded man asked, laughing and then lowering his sword. Washington lowered his sword also. “I will show you who I am!”

  The blue-hooded man reached up and undid the velcro fasteners that held the hood and masking veil in place. And as he removed the hood, Washington saw the man’s visage and could not have been more surprised.

  The blue-hooded man was Benedict Arnold, one of Washington’s own generals! He was a man and a soldier beloved of Washington, trusted even with the defense of West Point. Now, he had betrayed his country, his army and the trust of his Commanding General. Arnold had switched allegiance for pure financial gain, and stood to be highly rewarded upon Washington’s death.

  “I am sad for you,” Washington said upon seeing his old ally. “Because history will remember you as a traitor… and as a true fucking asshole.”

  With that, the fiery Arnold growled and swung his sword angrily at Washington again, and the combat resumed. The two warriors were locked in a death-duel, a lightning-fast torrent of sword-thrusts and volleys almost too fast to be seen, deadly and powerful. For many minutes, the fighting continued without either man gaining an advantage.

  The sore –groined Cornwallis, afraid even to move, still lay in the corner of the room at the top of the tower, the sock still in his mouth, watching these two ninja warriors fight to the death.

  Yet although they were evenly trained, and Benedict Arnold was younger, and perhaps stronger, an interesting thing occurred as the two men continued to battle. For the longer they fought, Washington seem to gain in strength and quickness and accuracy, while Benedict Arnold seemed to falter. Washington’s sword began connecting in glancing, superficial strikes at first, and then in painful, deep slashes against Arnold.

  “I don’t understand!” Arnold howled angrily. “I should be beating you!”

  “Like the British,” Washington scolded as they grappled, “you will never understand why you will lose.”

  “What do I not understand?” Arnold hissed, before Washington moved in close with his free hand and grabbed Benedict Arnold by the throat.

  “This is our Nation!” Washington said while choking his former General. “We’re fighting for our homes and our lands and our families and our County.” Washington lifted Arnold by the neck and pushed him out onto the balcony. “You’re only fighting only for money and financial gain. And that’s never as strong as the love of family and country! And you also made one, critical mistake,” Washington said.

  “What was that?” Arnold said, choking, as Washington lifted him up and held him over the edge of the balcony.

  “You kidnapped my wife,” Washington said sternly. “And you should never fuck with another man’s snuggle-muffin!”

  With that, Washington let go of Benedict Arnold’s neck and he plummeted, screaming, to the base of the tower, smashing his face into a bloody pulp and breaking his legs. And lying there helpless, not quite dead, the chained zombies all assembled at the base of the tower closed in to feast upon the flesh of Benedict Arnold, and soon devoured him entirely as he screamed, ending the sad legacy of America’s greatest traitor.

  In the corner of the room atop the Yorktown clock tower, the wide-eyed, terrified Cornwallis pissed his own pants as he watched Arnold fall to his death. Washington walked over to the cowering limey General and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up and removing the sock from his mouth.

  “I suppose you‘ll kill me now?” the trembling Cornwallis stammered.

  “No,” Washington said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  Washington released his neck and Cornwallis fell crying to his knees.

  “I should have tried harder to kill you the first night we met,” Cornwallis blurted out as he wept and sniffled.

  “The first night?” Washington asked

  “The zombie that attacked you and Martha the night we all met those many years ago,” Cornwallis admitted, “I sent him after you both, after you took her from me. I was already creating and transporting zombies, even back then.”

  “You honor-less shitbag!” Washington chastised. “Tomorrow, we’re going to win this War. And I want you alive to see that. I want you alive to witness your own defeat. I want you to spend the rest of your sad, miserable life knowing that your own defeat created …the United States of America!”

  Washington gave his kneeling adversary a mocking kiss right on his forehead, and then punched the weeping, urine-soaked Cornwallis right in the face, knocking him unconscious. Washington could hear many Redcoats running up the stairway of the clock tower after seeing someone fall to his death from the tower and become a zombie supper.

  Washington had only seconds to act. Reaching down to the floor, Washington put on Benedict Arnold’s discarded blue jacket and placed the dead traitor’s blue hood across his own face, just as the Redcoats rushed in.

  “I have thrown General Washington from the tower and killed him,” the now-masked Washington said to the Redcoats. “But he has attacked General Cornwallis,” Washington added. “See that the General is taken to his physician,” he ordered.

  Unaware that the blue-hooded man was, in fact, George Washington, the Redcoats carried out the unconscious Cornwallis, and George Washington simply walked of the tower just before dawn, entirely unrecognized. Taking careful note of British artillery placements and entrenchments, Washington took a slow, happy walk right through the British lines, telling many of them that he had killed General Washington. He smiled beneath his blue hood and headed back towards the Continental Army.

  Chapter 70

  Washington’s Victory at Yorktown


  As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon near Yorktown, Virginia on the morning of October 14, 1781, the Continental Army of the United States was in full preparation for an attack. The American and French forces were minutes away from an all-out assault against the British lines.

  In the Headquarters of the American encampment, all of Washington’s Generals stood assembled in anticipation of the planned military assault that Washington had ordered for this morning. Washington’s aide and former slave Reebock was there also, comforting the still-shaken Martha Washington, along with her slaves Beyonce, Denzel and LL Cool J. They all stared at the distant city of Yorktown in silent concern over the fate of their beloved George Washington.

  As they looked east, they could all see the glowing silhouette of a man walking towards them, emerging phoenix-like from the rising sun. They could make out no details of the tall man, as they all faced the sun, but he walked out past the British lines and right towards the American headquarters. When only a few feet away from them all, they watched him remove a blue coat and hood to reveal the glorious, smiling face of George Washington.

  A great cheer rose up as he revealed himself, and as one they ran to George Washington and surrounded him with hugs and loving embraces. Their General was safe and America’s Founding Father had returned! Martha Washington hugged and kissed him repeatedly, affections which he willingly accepted.

  “My friends,” Washington said, “it’s good to be home.”

  “We wuz so worried bout, you Massah Washton,” Beyonce said. “Lordy me, you done gaves us a fright!”

  “We were fearful for your survival!” Martha Washington agreed. “Though I can’t BELIEVE you jumped off that hang glider and let me fly that thing alone, god dammit!” she chastised him playfully.

  “I knew you would be fine,” Washington said, hugging her again. “And I can see by my walk here this morning that my friend, Reebock, has fulfilled his mission and let the British capture our wagons,” Washington said as he reached out and shook Reebock’’s hand. “And your escape from the British went well?” Washington asked.

  “They are SO fucked up right now, mon,” Reebock laughed. “Totally wasted.”

  “It appears the British defenses are vulnerable to attack,” Washington’s associate, General Greene said. “Your plan has worked thus far to perfection!”

  “Let’s finish them off,” Washington said a last. “General Greene, you may commence the attack.” Another cheer went up from everyone who surrounded Washington and the Generals sprang into action to begin the assault.

  The American and French troops approached the British lines at positions called Redoubts Nine and Ten. From the left and the right of this point they came, first by the hundreds and then by the thousands. With ladders and picks and shovels and muskets, the overwhelming force of American and French soldiers poured forward.

  The battle cry was the same for the French and the Americans: “Attack the British and Kill ALL of the zombies that remained!”

  The poor, fucked up British soldiers were in no condition to offer much opposition. Still stoned and legally intoxicated at dawn, most were too slagged to even load their muskets properly, much less fire them. Some Redcoats tried to stand and fight, only to be shot.

  The few zombies that the British had left were shot and blown to pieces by the continued musket and cannon fire. After facing so many of these ungodly creatures in battle, the Americans wanted these creatures wiped clean from the continent. Now was their chance to eliminate the zombie scourge, forever.

  The fighting exploded forward, with wave after wave of French and American forces falling hard upon the British lines, assaulting, attacking, and pressing forward. On and on the battle raged, until at last the British positions were taken, and the British defenses of Redoubts 9 and 10 had collapsed and were seized.

  The Continental Army quickly moved its own artillery up to the newly captured positions, and turned the captured British artillery around to face Yorktown. These strategically critical locations overlooked all of Yorktown and the British defenses below. With the high ground taken, there was no place the British could run or hide. The cannon fire began.

  Most of the Redcoats remained asleep, too stoned and drunk to even defend themselves, as Washington’s artillery pounded their defenses.

  Some British soldiers who sobered up ran to the front and offered up a meager defense, too little, and too late.

  Washington’s cannonade was relentless, obliterating the British lines and soldiers and zombies all. Washington personally aimed one cannon directly at the Yorktown clock tower, directing cannon-fire at Cornwallis personally. The bitch-slapped Cornwallis, realizing his headquarters at the Yorktown clock tower was being targeted, fled mere minutes before the tower collapsed, crushing most of the last remaining British zombies beneath it as they feasted on the bones of General Arnold.

  Through the smoke and haze of his cannon fire, Washington peered forward with his spy glass telescope and turned to General Greene.

  “Wait!” Washington said as he looked forward. Greene halted the firing of the cannon for a moment, which allowed the heavy smoke and haze to dissipate. And as they peered ahead in silence, a light wind blew the battle smoke away, and they all saw the British white flag of surrender being raised over Yorktown, Virginia!

  A great cheer went up as the Americans and French spotted white flags being raised all across the City of Yorktown. Cheer after cheer went up as the soldiers realized the Revolutionary War was over. The Americans had won their freedom!

  Soldiers cried and wept and sang and screwed in celebration of this monumental and historical event. Washington shook General Greene’s hand and then hugged him. Many hundreds of American soldiers had gathered around Washington’s tent, watching him in awed silence and reverence.

  “Send out emissaries to the British,” Washington said at last. “Advise them that we will make arrangements for a formal ceremony… to accept their surrender.”

  A thunderous cheer went up after Washington said this, and nearly all the soldiers threw their hats in the air in joyous celebration.

  The most important battle in American history was over, and George Washington had earned final Victory against the British.

  Chapter 71

  The Final Fate of General Cornwallis

  As he hid, crouched alone in a deserted alley in Yorktown, Virginia, Charles Lord General Cornwallis brushed the dust of battle from his urine –stained pants, and realized that he had sustained an injury to his leg, and was unable to walk. He had avoided an American cannonball that had nearly struck him, but the shrapnel from the explosion had severely wounded his knee. Through the thick smoke of the battle, Cornwallis could see a British Redcoat walking by, and called for assistance.

  “You there,” Cornwallis called out. “I am injured and require help.”

  With the noise of battle and the endless cannon fire from the Americans echoing through the streets of Yorktown, his call for assistance was not heard. As was his nature, Cornwallis grew angry at being ignored.

  “Soldier! Soldier!” General Cornwallis now shouted. “You will halt, turn about face, and return here to assist your Commanding General this instant!”

  It would have been better for Cornwallis if he had remained silent, for as the Redcoat turned after hearing his call, the general could now see that it was a zombie soldier that was coming towards him.

  “On the other hand, never mind,” Cornwallis said after seeing the creature approach. But it was too late. Now smelling the blood from the General’s wounded knee, the zombie came steadily forward, fully intending to feast on the flesh of Cornwallis.

  As he was unarmed, Cornwallis looked about for anything with which to defend himself, and spotted a British bayonet lying discarded just a few feet away. He crawled for it as the zombie came ever closer. The zombie grabbed the General’s leg just as Cornwallis grasped the bayonet. Cornwallis spun about with the blade just as the zombie’s teeth bit deeply
into his leg, Too late, he thrust the bayonet into the creature’s head. But Cornwallis had been bitten and he knew it was a sentence of death.

  For a brief moment, Cornwallis considered plunging the bayonet into his own head and killing himself, but he was too cowardly even for that. Kicking the zombie corpse off him, Cornwallis staggered to his feet, and in a few moments, living British officers happened along and assisted him.

  Knowing he was bitten, and seeing the white flags of surrender flying about the city, General Cornwallis cried like a little girl who lost her favorite dolly as they carried him back into the medical tent. He wept even harder when the physician confirmed his terminal diagnosis, which he really knew already. There was no cure for a zombie bite. The fate of Cornwallis was sealed.

  Chapter 72

  The British Surrender at Yorktown

  Emissaries from the British and American Armies met, along with the French, to arrange a formal ceremony of surrender, which was set for October 19, 1781. The British would march nearly 8,000 defeated troops out of Yorktown, and the Revolutionary War would be officially ended.

  As George Washington arrived at the surrender ceremony at the appointed day and time, he was distressed to see that General Cornwallis was not present. Instead, British Brigadier General Chuck O’Hara appeared to offer the formal British surrender. O’Hara could see that Washington was upset, and asked to speak with him for a moment alone. The two men withdrew to a private spot.

  “General Cornwallis has taken… ill,” O’Hara stated. “He will be unable to attend the formal ceremony of surrender.” O’Hara could see that Washington was quite distressed at this most serious breach of decorum.

  “It is quite unusual,” Washington said, “for the General Commanding to fail to appear at a formal surrender.”