“But it wasn't her fault! Can't you see that?”
“What I saw was a skittish young girl looking for a way out,” Desdemona cruelly laughed. “So I gave it to her. I brought purpose and meaning to her life for one shining moment. Believe it or not, she was never very popular at Hellfire. She was too withdrawn, too innocent and meek for their tastes. The night I set her free under the big top she was a crowd favorite from start to finish. Her death was cheered by over a hundred screaming fans. She lasted much longer than they usually do, earning herself great glory as she died. I was surprised by how proud she made me in the end. I didn't think she had it in her.”
“What are you planning on doing with us?” Moto asked as I fell silent, taking in the horror of Desdemona's words.
“We're gonna keep you safe and sound for now,” John said. “Don't you worry about that. You're our new insurance policy on account of Franco saying he's got something extra special planned for you because of all the trouble you've gone and caused. I'm not sure what it is, but I can imagine it won't be nearly as clean and painless a death as hanging is supposed to be.”
“And just how long do you think that will buy you with him?” Moto asked, turning to stare up at John from his knees.
“Why, whatever do you mean, soldier?”
“Don't play dumb, John,” Moto said sharply. “I've seen the way Franco talks to you in front of everyone, including your own men. He's got no respect for you at all. You're not partners. You're his lap dog, sent to do his errands. Look at how quickly he turned on your good pal, Tank. It was like he was just waiting for an excuse to get rid of him. How long before he does the same to you when you're least expecting it?”
“He won't,” John said a little too quickly, but it was clear he was worried about that exact thing. Moto was working his nerves, and it was starting to show.
“What makes you think you're different?”
“Not that I need to explain myself to you,” John sneered, growing more impatient at the perceived need to defend himself. “But just for your information, there were a lot of incidents with Tank since I brought him back, any one of which would be cause for concern. Let's just say that Tank didn't have the type of personality that lends itself to politics. He didn't understand how things worked. The man could no longer see the big picture. All he cared about was getting revenge. No, what happened to Tank, while unfortunate, was sadly inevitable. I understand that now. If anything, Franco showed great restraint.”
“You sure you're not just saying that because you're surrounded by his armed guards right now?” Moto taunted. “Because you sound like you're trying to convince yourself just as much as me.”
“For a guy who's got one foot in the grave, you sure love to run your mouth off, don't you?” John said, turning and winking at his wretched wife. Desdemona let out a false high laugh that made my nerves stand on edge. A murmur of forced chuckles rippled through the men as well.
“I'm willing to make you a deal,” Moto continued, undaunted.
“Now this I've got to hear,” John crowed.
“Lay down your weapons and go, and I won't hunt you down and kill you when this is all over,” Moto said in a slow clear voice. For a moment I couldn't believe my ears. Apparently neither could John. He shook his head from side to side like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. Desdemona's face pulled back into a wide smile as she leered unblinking at my brother. It was far scarier than any other face I'd seen her make.
“Come again?” John said at last. “I don't believe I heard you correctly.”
Laughter rang out all around us, from the Blackshirts to the bikers. In fact, it seemed like we were the only ones not amused.
“I'm going to speak as plainly as I can so you don't misunderstand me,” Moto said, unfazed by the jeering all around him. “You're a coward. Always have been and always will be. You fancy yourself a great leader, but you're just a guy who likes to look like the big shot for making all the calls. When it actually comes down to getting your hands dirty, you get someone else to do it. It's why you had Tank around, and it's why you worked so hard trying to turn my little brother to your side.”
“Go on,” John laughed. “I can't wait to hear where this is going. I had no idea you were a comedian, but this is some good material.”
Moto waited for the laughter to die down before continuing.
“You haven't thought this all through, but I have,” Moto explained. “Soon reinforcements will come, the closest from Edwards, sure, but as I explained they'll want to make an example out of Franco. When they get here they'll burn him to the ground, and anyone who stands by his side. Think about that. They'll surround you from land and sea and push in until every last member of the coup is dead, including you and your wife. If you leave now and head back north you'll have a chance of escaping. I'll even put in a word with the new general about how you cooperated and switched sides at the end. Who knows? If you keep running you might be able to get so far away they'll never find you, all the way up into Canada. I hear up there they take any refugees willing to submit to clean tests and work the land.”
“Let me just get this straight,” John teased. “You want me to put down my weapons and just run away to live on a kibbutz in Canada? Is that what you're seriously suggesting? That's too funny for words.”
“It beats living in Franco's shadow,” Moto fired back. “Waiting for him to decide you're no longer any use to him alive. You've seen the type of man he really is today. Does he strike you as the kind of man who actually keeps his promises? Or even remembers making them?”
“I'll take my chances,” John sneered. “Oh and in case you haven't noticed, you're the one on your knees now, defeated and begging for your life. Not me! You think you're better than the rest of us, better than everyone else because you fight for the weak and protect the innocent, but that's all just a lie you tell yourself to feel superior over everyone. The truth is, you're just a slave. You do what men more powerful than you order you to do, and you call it justice, constrained by your own false sense of morality in a world gone mad. You're weak and weakness has no real place in this world anymore, not since Z Day. It's men like me, men like Franco, men who don't let morals get in the way of doing what needs to be done for the greater good of all, who will shape the future.”
“Just remember that I gave you a chance,” Moto said, sounding like a district attorney trying to cut a plea bargain with a petty criminal in an old television crime drama. “When you see the first rows of the Unified Armed Forces marching in unison toward you, leading thousands on to corner and kill you like a rat, remember I gave you a way out, fair and square, a chance to save you and your wife, and you threw it away.”
“You know what?” John leaned over and put his face right in front of Moto. “You're every bit as annoying as your little brother. I can see where he gets it from now.”
“Thanks,” I smirked.
“I think it's time we gave them a demonstration, my love,” Desdemona sang sweetly. “Perhaps a front row seat to the big show will give them a taste of just how we plan on dealing with anyone who tries to get in our way.”
“I couldn't agree more,” John said. “Bring over the cage!”
There was a loud beeping sound as a huge flatbed tow truck came past the first row of bikers, backing up toward us. John put his fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle, signaling the driver to stop. The cage rattled as the truck came to a halt.
“You two,” John said, pointing to a couple of greasy-looking Blackshirts with visible tattoos on their necks and hands. “Help us up.”
They look like John’s followers from New Lompoc, I thought, only he’s disguised them to look like Franco’s treasonous recruits so they’d blend in here. But why?
The two soldiers helped John and Desdemona up and onto the platform. John swung the cage door open and Desdemona walked in.
“Bring them up now,” John ordered.
Without pause, several Blackshirts
pulled us to our feet and shoved us to the back of the tow truck. John’s men were already on the back of the truck, hands reaching down to help us up. The guy who grabbed my hand had a swastika visible on the webbed skin of his right hand between his thumb and forefinger. I stared at it in shock, all doubt erased from my mind that he was from New Lompoc. I opened my mouth to say something, but he silenced me with a wink – shoving me hard and forward into the cage, then following me. Benji and Moto were escorted into the cage by the other impostor soldier, with John following close behind. John pulled on the gate of the massive cage and shut it behind him. It clanged shut with a scary finality. Reaching through the bars, John clicked the heavy metal padlock together, and removed the key. He unfastened a silver chain from his neck, looped it through the hole in the key, then tucked it back into his shirt for safekeeping.
Why is he locking himself in with us? I wondered. What's going on?
“Take their weapons and search them,” John commanded. His men moved quickly between us, patting us down and taking away my katana. They discovered a knife Benji had slipped into his boot and took that as well, handing it to John. He turned it over in his fingers, examining the blade as it sparkled in the sun.
“Is everything in place?” John asked Desdemona.
“Do you really need to ask me, of all people?” she replied, cocking her head to the side.
“No, I don't,” John admitted. “It's just one of the things I love most about you.”
“Whatever you have to show us,” Moto said, “it won't change anything.”
“That's where you're wrong,” John said. “It's going to change everything in a way you can't imagine. Hope you like surprises, because this is a good one.”
Desdemona threw her head back and let out a high-pitched cackle, reminding me of an evil witch working on a potion over a boiling cauldron.
“Release the dead,” John yelled at the top of his lungs. The other bikers around him parroted it back to him, revving their engines and roaring around the remaining Blackshirts in menacing loops. The small cluster of Franco's soldiers pulled together, guns swinging wildly back and forth between different bikers, each waiting for the other to start shooting.
“What are you doing?” Moto questioned him in surprise.
“Isn't it obvious?” John asked with a big smile.
“You're double crossing Franco,” I said, my mouth falling open in shock.
Amidst the chaos, I heard a chorus of low moaning drawing near. Almost immediately after that I caught the scent of putrid, rotting flesh.
“You can't just unleash an army of zombies on the base,” Moto said. “They'll kill everyone, including your men!”
“All my men are safe here with me, or back behind the roaring engines,” John laughed. “Who do you think is driving these biters forward?”
“What about the guys outside this cage on bikes?” I asked. “What if they go down and get bitten?”
“Then I'll have them turned back,” John said. “Look, kid, the first thing I'm going to do once the base falls is round up all the new recruits to my zombie army and inspect them top to bottom. I'm going to want to pick the best ones to give the new serum to and place on the front lines when reinforcements come, right? If any of my guys are among them, I'll simply give them the antidote and bring 'em back, providing they’re not more trouble than they're worth.”
“Even the ones that aren't white?” I asked accusingly.
“We'll do our best to save all that we can,” John said unconvincingly. “After all, this is war and we've only got limited supplies. We've got to prioritize.”
“I don't suppose you've explained that to any of your new biker friends,” Moto shot back.
“Now that you mention it, that might have slipped my mind,” John said with a cheesy wink. “Let's just call it our little secret.”
The first wave of the dead began to pass the tow truck, the stench of them making my nose twitch. I'd forgotten just how overwhelming it was when a full horde was gathered together. The bikers pulled away from the cluster of hunkered down Blackshirts, tearing off just in time to beat the monsters bearing down on them. The Blackshirts didn't have time to turn and run. They began firing into the oncoming wave of corpses, but their bullets made no difference.
“Don't look away,” John called out to us. “This is the good part.”
I couldn't look away if I wanted. My eyes were locked with the terrified soldiers as the zombies washed over them like a rogue wave, biting into arms and legs and faces with impunity. Screams rent the air as the men were torn to pieces by the hungry demons. Almost immediately after the onslaught, a rolling cry of angry moans rippled behind us and off into the distance. It scared me how long it went on.
There must be thousands of undead, I thought. How are they controlling these monsters?
But the truth was obvious. They weren't anymore. They were simply unleashing the beasts and letting chaos rule. For a moment, I wondered if John even had a plan to put everything back together again if things turned out as he envisioned.
The cries died down and soon all we heard were the groans of zombies as they moved past us, heading out to the sounds of fighting and gunfire on the base in the distance. Despite the fact that they were traitors who wanted to kill us just moments before, I found myself feeling sorry for the men who had just died. I couldn't help it. There were so many hungry zombies biting them, pulling apart their carcasses and devouring the hot meat in greedy mouthfuls, that it was clear there would be nothing left to bring back once the horde moved on. My stomach churned as I looked away from their mangled corpses, now barely distinguishable from a pile of bloody black rags.
“You never planned on working with Franco did you?” Moto asked at last. “Everything you told my brother back in Ojai, everything you've said since, was all a ruse. You've been waiting for this moment to arrive so you could betray Franco and take over.”
“Well now, I wouldn't say that exactly,” John protested with a shrug of his shoulders. “In the beginning I liked a lot of what Franco had to offer. But as you saw, things kinda deteriorated between us as time went on. I didn't care much for the way the power went to his head, or for the way he spoke to me. You were right about that. It was pretty obvious he didn't plan on holding up his end of the bargain anymore. As your brother will attest, I can't stand people who give their word and then go back on it. It's a personal pet peeve of mine. Drives me nuts. ”
“Which gives you the right to break your word,” I sneered.
“Exactly,” John nodded, not getting my jab. “This way works better for me anyway. I never was one for rules and regulations and all that military nonsense. Up at the crack of dawn, doing more than most folks do all week before six a.m., all of that. It's unnatural.”
“Whatever you've got to tell yourself to justify what you've done,” Benji said in a low voice, “you're still a murderer. Plain and simple. You might not see it, but everyone else does.”
“I never really did buy your whole Benedict Arnold routine, you know,” John chuckled. “Franco sure did though. Man oh man. It was just what he needed to hear at the time too.”
“What's your point?” Benji spat.
“My point is that it's all relative to the situation at hand. You needed Franco to trust you so you could betray him, but you don't see what you did as wrong because you've got this blinding sense of righteousness. In reality, it's not all that different from what I'm doing now. Hell, at least I tried to give him a chance. You on the other hand, went in knowing full well your intentions were rotten, smiling to his face and being his whipping boy. So excuse me if I don't feel all that bad being called names by a pimply faced kid who doesn't know his elbow from his…”
“How does this end?” Moto interrupted, turning John’s attention back to him.
“Once Franco is out of the way, we'll control the most powerful army known to mankind, along with the most powerful biological weapon. After that, anyone who gets in our way o
r tries to stop us will become food for my loyal troops.”
“You're crazy if you think you can control them long enough to take over the world,” Moto said. “The bigger they get, the stronger their hive mentality becomes. Eventually, they'll just turn on you and your men.”
“He's right,” I joined in. “I've seen it before. They work together to knock down walls and buildings to get at living people. You won't be able to shut them off.”
“Who says I want to see it end?” John laughed. Desdemona joined in.
“What good are they if you can't make them stop?” Moto demanded. “There will be no one left to rule over.”
“World domination is Franco's dream,” John explained. “Not mine. My wife and I had something different in mind. We're happy just putting a barrier between us and the rest of the country for the foreseeable future...or what's left of it anyway.”
“Everybody wants to live in California,” Desdemona laughed. “That's always been the case. It will be even more appealing once word gets out about our new attractions.”
“Hellfire and the Circus of Pain are just the start,” John continued. “We eventually plan on opening a network of similar spots up and down the coast from San Diego to San Francisco.”
“You're setting up franchises?” I asked, feeling confused.
“Franchises,” John chuckled. “I like that. That's funny. After we take out the powers that be we plan on establishing clean communities, similar to New Lompoc, where people of breeding and culture can congregate without fear of being attacked by zoms, or assaulted by lawless gangs. They can set up anywhere else they want, take over any piece of land that suits them and turn it into the world’s biggest biker bar. I could not care less, as long as they keep away from suburbia.”
“Doesn't seem fair,” Moto said, playing devil's advocate all of a sudden. “Your biker pals put their butts on the line for you, but they don't get to live in your shiny white paradise?”
“Oh, they'll be taken care of all right,” John smirked. “Don't you worry about that.”
Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3) Page 14
