“I could have brought him back,” Franco roared, suddenly enraged. “Do you have any idea what you've done? You've ruined everything!”
“Just like I said they would,” Tank chimed in.
“Shut up!” Franco turned on him. “You keep your stupid, petty digs to yourself, you overgrown Cyclops, or I will cut the tongue out of your mouth. Do I make myself clear?!”
Fiery anger shone in Tank's one remaining eye. For a moment, I thought a laser beam might shoot out and disintegrate Franco where he stood. Tank just huffed and nodded in reply.
“Good,” Franco snorted, his face flushed with wounded pride. “I'm not going to tolerate insubordination in front of my men. It's the fastest way to sink a revolution.”
“Is that what you're calling this?” Moto laughed in his face. “A revolution? If you really believe that, you're delusional. This is a military coup, plain and simple, a power grab by a madman intent on bending the world to his own will and killing anyone who stands in his way. This is treason.”
“I'm afraid you've got it all mixed up, Macnamara,” Franco leered. “You're the one guilty of treason. You're the one in the cage waiting to be carted off, kicking and screaming, to the gallows. History is full of people like you, simple minded fools with no vision, men wracked with inner guilt and conflict by the choices they need to make to take the human race to the next level, constantly wrestling with their morality. Men like me know that tough choices must be made, especially in times of war. Men like me dare to take bold measures. We do it for the good of all the people.”
“Sacrificing anyone who gets in your way?” Moto said accusingly.
“Gladly,” Franco laughed. “What are a hundred men compared to the fate of all of mankind? It's less than a drop in the bucket, less than a single teardrop, compared to the entire ocean, to every drop of water in the universe. My name will live on forever. History is told by the winners, Macnamara, not the skeletons. When they talk about me in the history books they’ll say I was a visionary, a decisive leader who never let his conscience get in the way of doing what was best for all the people. You won't even be remembered as the cowardly traitor that you are. I'll personally see to it that you are snuffed out of all accounts of recorded history. It will be like you and your miserable family never existed.”
I felt a chill go through me at the delight Franco was taking at imagining our total demise. It was eerie how much pleasure he took in tormenting us, like a serial killer feeding off the fear of his victim’s last moments.
He's a monster, I thought. Never forget that. He may look human, but he's a demon that's taken human form, nothing more.
“When the time is right,” Moto said through gritted teeth. “I'm going to personally kill you.”
“Deluded to the bitter end,” Franco laughed. “Speaking of time, yours is now officially up. Take them to the hanging platform. And someone go fetch Benji. I know he'll want to be front and center for this show. I want him right by my side, so I can share in his joy at seeing these traitors get what they deserve.”
“You did something to him,” I yelled. “You messed with his head somehow. Benji would never find happiness in anyone being killed, not even someone who tried to kill him.”
Franco laughed again, and his men joined in at my expense.
“It's amazing how naïve you still are,” Franco taunted. “Benji is a man now. His eyes have been opened. All men take pleasure in seeing their enemies suffer and die. All men revel in the glory of justice served. You'll see soon enough.”
He turned, and the men parted to let him through. I tried to yell out after him, but he was gone. The doors were opened and men rushed in, beating us with sticks, punching and kicking us all over. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I took a fist to my right eye, then doubled over out of breath as someone else crammed another into my gut, winding me. After a small eternity of being beaten down, we were pulled back up. Our arms were tied in front of us. They shoved rags in our mouths to keep us quiet, and began marching us out to our impending death.
CHAPTER NINE
The men were cheering as we were marched out in front of them into the blinding sunlight. They cracked jokes at our expense, working each other up. Some reached out and smacked our faces as we walked forward. Others spit on us. Some kicked us in the back of our legs as we stumbled on; still others beat our lower backs with sticks to keep us moving. All the while, insults flew at us from every side. I noticed that some of the men looked like they were wearing new uniforms, and their bare arms sticking out were covered in biker tattoos.
Alphas and Unity Gang, I thought. That's how they've been slipping on and off the base. Franco has allowed John to deputize outlaws into his elite unit. He's in bed with the enemy.
By the looks of it, the sun had just risen. Blood from a head wound I'd picked up in the beating soon mixed with sweat from my anxious attempts to fight them off with tied hands, and the mixture poured down into my eyes, making them sting. I choked on dry dust as we were led over the dirt track to the lawn section where a makeshift gallows had been recently assembled.
I wonder how long they've been preparing for this moment, I thought. This must have been part of the plan since the start, to win the rest of the base over by using us as his scapegoats.
The crowd of cheering men parted to let us climb up and onto the platform. They looked like rioters. I wondered how no one else could see they were nothing but lawless bikers in bad disguises. I felt my foot take the first step up the stairs, and heard the creak of the new wood as it supported my weight. A feeling of utter dread began to descend over me.
This is really happening, I realized at last. This is how it's going to end.
I was up on the platform now, and being calmly moved into position over a trap door by one of Franco's men. I turned to see another moving Moto into position.
There has to be a way out of this. Think! You're running out of time!
The man next to me reached over my head and pulled the noose down, looping it over my neck and pulling it snugly into place. The wiry bits of rough rope scratched my throat as I started to panic, pulling in deep breaths.
I'm never going to see her again, I thought. I'm never going to see Felicity.
I heard a commotion to my right. I turned to see Moto struggling as they tried to put the rope over his neck. It was no use. The man rabbit punched him hard in the kidneys, and he bent over. The man who had put the rope over my neck helped Moto straighten up, as the other one laced the noose around my brother’s neck and pulled it so tight that Moto's face began to go slightly blue.
I can't believe this is how we're going to die, I thought. After everything we've been through, it just doesn't seem right.
All around us, the men laughed and cackled and spit insults and threw things at us – a raucous mob of motley criminals hungry for blood. The sounds of their evil merriment made my stomach churn. I was starting to shiver all over. A loud, steady clapping from in front of us caused them to settle down. I looked over to see Franco standing before us with Tank, John, and Benji, who had my katana slung over his shoulder. I tried to make out an emotion from the blank expression on his face, but it was no use. His body posture, on the other hand, completely suggested he was with Franco now. He wore the uniform of the elite squad, including the telltale black shirt and lace-up combat boots. His chest was puffed out and he walked with a cocky swagger, making him look like a miniature version of Franco.
“May I have your attention, please,” Franco shouted.
“Hang 'em high!” One man hollered. The rest laughed. Franco took out his pistol and, without hesitation, shot the man in the chest. He fell over dead and the men closest to him parted like a curtain, none wanting to be found guilty of associating with him. A terrified silence fell over the camp. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air like a warning.
“As I was saying,” Franco continued, not the least bit concerned with murdering one of his own men. “We gather here today to see t
hat justice is done.”
He stopped and looked around at the men who were all now fidgeting quietly, like kids trying their hardest to behave at church.
“You may applaud that,” Franco conceded. The men burst into cautious cheers. Franco put his hands up and waved them down to let the men know he wasn't done speaking. They instantly quieted again.
“This man,” he said, strolling over to point at my brother, “until a few days ago was your ranking officer on base, owing to the death of General Conrad. We now know he was responsible for the General's death, that he conspired with terrorists to plot an attack on this very base, that he covered up the theft of highly classified documents, and that he and his accomplices stole a weapon that they intended to use against anyone who dared to stand against them.”
A low chorus of boos went through the crowd. John and Tank sneered, clearly enjoying the show. Tank punched Benji in the shoulder playfully, and to my great surprise Benji laughed and nodded his head. In the place where I thought my outrage should be, I found instead a gaping hole of sadness and betrayal. My heart felt like it was breaking in my chest again. For a split second I wanted nothing more than for them to pull the handle and get it over with.
Anything has to feel better than this, I thought. At least when I'm dead I won't have to see him gloat anymore. Every time he laughs it feels like someone is stabbing me in the chest. I can't believe I once called him my little brother.
“Despite our best efforts to get them to come clean and tell us where the stolen materials are,” Franco continued theatrically, “they've refused to budge an inch. We even offered them mercy; we told them if they helped us prevent a tragic war that would cost the lives of soldiers and civilians, and leave us all open to attack by zombie fiends, that we would let them live out their days in prison. And do you know what they said? They said they'd rather die than tell us. Well guess what? Today is their lucky day. Today is when they get to pay for the error of their ways, and it’s when we get justice for those who have sinned against us. Today they will hang by their dirty necks until the light goes out of their eyes.”
A fresh chorus of cheers rent the air as Franco lifted his arm and jabbed his balled up fist to the sky to drive his point home. He was a master of working up a crowd, a fantastic talent for a man who wanted to lead a devoted cult of fanatics on a path of world domination.
“Tank,” Franco said, turning and extending his hand out toward the giant with the eye patch. “It has been decided that you shall do the honors. You may now take your position by the gallows.”
Tank look surprised at the news, and oddly anxious. He turned to John who simply smiled and nodded, then back again to Franco like there must have been some kind of mistake.
“Come on then,” Franco said. “I know you're surprised, but we still have a hanging to get on with. I can imagine how honored you feel to be selected. I'm sure there are a hundred guys right now who wish they could take your place.”
Tank stepped forward like he was going to be joining us up on the platform. Franco's evil grin widened.
“Let's have a round of applause for Tank,” he shouted, and the men drowned him out in hoots and cheers, each one bloodthirsty and eager to see us executed and our bodies left to dangle in the breeze like broken wind chimes.
“This isn't how it was supposed to go,” Tank murmured, but Franco clapped him on the shoulder.
“I know you're disappointed that you can't tear Xander apart with your bare hands, as John promised,” Franco said. “In fact, it was John who recommended we bestow the honor on you of pulling the trap door lever for that very reason. It will just have to be enough, I'm afraid. Consider it a small portion of what you deserve for being a good and loyal friend.”
John smiled as Tank shot a confused look at him.
“Go on, Cyclops,” John shouted. “You heard him.”
Something is off, I thought. Tank no longer looked happy at all, but the men around him didn't seem to notice or care. He stepped forward and put his hands on the lever that would force the small square of wood we were standing on to spring open, causing us to plummet to our deaths as the noose tightened around our necks and strangled the life out of us.
“On my word,” Franco said loud and clear. Tank just nodded.
I closed my eyes.
Forgive me Felicity, I thought. I'm so sorry, baby. I should have listened to you and stayed in Xanadu. I love you so much. And God, if you're up there listening, I need a miracle.
I opened my eyes, the anticipation causing me to involuntarily shiver all over.
“Now!”
Tank pulled the lever in slow motion. Suddenly images from my life began to flash before my eyes. I saw back to the days when my dad and I used to visit my mom in the cancer ward at the hospital. How frail and thin she'd grown. She reached out to me from her sick bed, her tiny trembling hand covered in veins by that point. She no longer had hair, but had carefully wrapped her head in a colorful scarf. She smelled like lemonade from the swabs she rubbed on the sores in her mouth. She was dying and we knew it. The doctor wanted us to say goodbye, to make peace with her passing. There were tears in her eyes as she spoke to me, answering my adolescent gibberish when I asked what I was supposed to do without her.
“Just do your best,” she said in a voice that barely rose above a whisper. “That's all you can do in this life. Take care of each other now. I'll be watching over you, I promise. I love you.”
I'd blocked out that painful image for most of my life, unable to deal with her passing. Over time I'd forgotten the details of her face as well, replacing them with a generic image in my mind, an idealized version of who she was.
“Why did mommy have to die?” I asked my father before the funeral. He was dressed in his good Sunday clothes, attempting to put on a tie, a job that used to be reserved for my mother on the rare occasions we went to church.
“So she could be your guardian angel,” he told me. “She's in Heaven now looking down on us.”
I searched the clouds as we stood by the gravesite at her funeral, looking for a sign of her. As the next few years went by I prayed to her, imagining her in flowing white robes, young and beautiful and radiating light. Those were some dark times, some tough times, and I found peace in being able to talk to her, whether she could hear me or not. Later, when Moto found us and completed our family, I stopped talking to my mom. Life moved on and took us with it. I'd forgotten all about it until I saw the lever reaching the end of the arc, signaling that our deaths were just a moment away.
Mom, I thought with all my might, if you are still up there, if you can hear me, please help us. I need you now more than ever. Please get us out of this and back safe with the ones we love.
I felt the door under my feet give way as my body went into an animal panic, erasing all traces of rational thought from my mind. It felt like electricity was shooting through my body, and I became hyper aware of everything as the adrenaline began to kick in. I could hear my heart beating, could feel it like a lump in my throat as I began to fall.
Those were the longest seconds of my life. They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. I don't know if that's true for everyone, but it was for me. A series of images tore through my mind, showing me everything from rainy days as a child splashing in puddles on the way home from school, to the training sessions on hot summer days with Moto, and to the moment Felicity and I shared our first kiss. My mind froze on the image of her face, unable to let go or move on.
I'm sorry, baby, I thought. I'm sorry for everything. I love you.
I reached the end of the rope and it went taut. Beside me I heard a loud ripping noise that made me picture Moto's neck snapping, followed by an odd crashing thud. I had no such luck. Tank had been right. Whoever measured out the rope for my hanging didn't do it right. I dangled helplessly by the throat as the life was squeezed out of me, my face turning colors.
I heard people around me booing, loud voices calling out to finish me
off. The crowd of Franco's followers, mostly bikers in disguise, began hurling rocks and cans at me.
“You did this,” Franco hissed at Tank. “Didn't you? You were so caught up in your childish scheme of revenge that you couldn't stand to see them die so easily! You couldn't stand the thought of not being able to rip his body to pieces like you'd been planning since John first captured him in Ojai.”
There was a chorus of murmurs now passing between the enlisted men, many of whom began backing away.
“What are you talking about?!” Tank yelled in frustration.
I could hear ringing in my ears as I kicked helplessly, praying the pain would stop.
“You snuck out here and messed with the rope,” Franco said, growing louder and angrier. “Admit it!”
“I'm not taking any more of this from you or anyone else,” Tank said, turning and squaring off with Franco. “I've had enough.”
Franco kicked Tank's legs out from underneath him without hesitation, leaving the giant sprawled out flat on his back. He withdrew his gun from his holster and pointed it at Tank's massive chest. Tank held up his hands, his single, remaining eye wide with shock at how quickly the tables had turned.
“Wait,” Tank begged. “I made a mistake. Please.”
“There's no room in my army for soldiers who can't follow orders,” Franco replied. “Enjoy your one-way trip back to oblivion, freak.”
Any minute now I'll be dead, I thought, the pain in my throat driving me mad. Please let it happen soon. Please don't let me suffer anymore.
With lightning speed Benji raced onto the platform, drawing my katana from his back and slicing through my hanging rope. My vision was starting to fade to black. My head began to swim as I lost consciousness. I heard the sound of the gun going off over and over as I fell. My feet hit the earth beneath the platform, but didn't find purchase. I crumpled like a sack of moldy potatoes. Benji plunged through the trap door after me. He sliced the noose and pulled the wiry twine from around my neck. I gasped down air like a thirsty man gulping down water. I saw stars as I tried to sit up. Benji pushed me back into the dirt.
Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3) Page 12
