Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3)

by Devan Sagliani

  “Hell yay,” Felicity hooted, walking forward to high five Sonya. “Good shot, girl!”

  I turned back to John, who seemed furious now and on the verge of doing something rash.

  “Put the sword down,” Moto ordered. “Now.”

  “It's over,” I said.

  “I'd rather die than let you beat me,” John grunted, his face twisted with raw anger and humiliation. “See you in hell.”

  I knew what was about to happen, but I was completely powerless to stop it. I watched in horror as John drove my katana through Moto, the blade coming out the other side. A look of shock dawned on Moto's face as he looked down and saw the blade sticking out of him, covered in his blood. He fell to his knees as John pulled it out. Sonya screamed at the top of her lungs. John smiled as he turned to me and pulled the handgun from his belt line. He pointed it in my direction. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I turned and made eye contact with Felicity. She stood watching on in horror and shock at what was about to happen.

  “I love you, Felicity Jane,” I said, wanting my last words to be to her.

  “I love you too, baby.”

  The gesture seemed to only make John grow angrier. Consumed by rage and betrayal, he turned the gun away from me and pointed it at Felicity instead.

  “NO!” I shouted, lunging for him and knocking him over, but it was already too late. I heard the crack of the gun as it went off, just before I tumbled on top of John and too late knocked it out of his hands. Sonya cried out again and I turned back looking for Felicity. She was bent over Apache, who had stepped in front of her at the last second, taking the bullet in the chest. It had hit him square in the heart, killing him almost instantly. Felicity cradled his head and cried. He collapsed, and died in her arms.

  “How's it feel to lose everything?” John asked with a cocky grin.

  I brought my fist down hard into his unprotected face in reply. He laughed and spit blood at me.

  “Let's do this, Xander,” John taunted, dragging himself back to his feet and squaring off to brawl. “I've been waiting a long time.”

  The soldiers formed a circle around us as we began to fight. I swung at John's head, connecting twice before he ducked the third punch and brought his fist up hard and fast into my stomach, then followed up with another punch to the chest. I brought my arms down to block him from rabbit punching me in the kidneys, but John stomp-kicked me in the solar plexus while I was defenseless, driving me back.

  “That all you got?” he asked. “The big bad Macnamara? Maybe I was wrong about you. Seems like I might have misjudged you, kid.”

  Fresh anger coursed through my veins, filling me with unforgiving hatred for him.

  “I'm going to make you pay for what you've done,” I promised.

  “The only thing you're gonna do is curl up and die like your pathetic brother,” John laughed.

  If he was trying to trick me into making a false move, it worked. I lunged forward at him, swinging my fists wildly, but only connecting once. John brought several rapid punches to my upper body before driving an upper cut to my chin and slamming my teeth painfully together. I nearly bit off my tongue.

  I jumped back out of reach and brought my leg up in a sweeping high kick to his head. It happened so fast, I thought for sure John would be unable to block it. Instead he seemed to anticipate the move, ducking before stepping in toward me and kicking my other leg straight out from underneath me. I fell hard on my butt, and John lunged at me like a predator moving in for the kill. We rolled around in the dirt, each wrestling for control. Several times he pinned me, but I managed to squirrel out of it by elbowing him or flipping over. Finally we came to rest with him behind me once more, his arm digging into my windpipe cutting off all oxygen. It felt like being hung by a rope all over again as I clawed at him to free myself.

  Think! You've got to do something! You can't just let him kill you!

  “End of the line, Xander,” John exhaled into my ear, squeezing harder than before. “Looks like neither of us is going to live to see how the world turns out after all.”

  Sonya cried as she kissed my brother’s face, and all of a sudden I could hear his voice in my head.

  Remember your training, his words echoed in my mind. Use what you know to your advantage. Make your enemy do all the work. Draw them out and wear them down. Then they will be easy to defeat.

  I went limp, putting all my weight on John's arm to hold me up. I was no longer fighting him as my body pulled forward, causing his forearm to dig even further into my throat and pulling him with me toward the ground. John didn't have time to consider whether or not I was faking. He leaned forward in an attempt to yank me back and, as he did, I brought my head back as hard as I could in his direction. I could feel the blood spray down the back of my neck as I broke his nose, a sickening crack reverberating in my ears. John cried out, more in shock than pain. He let go of me and brought both his hands to his face, gingerly touching the swelling skin. I spun around and punched him in the crotch as hard as I could, causing him to double over and bringing his face close to mine once more.

  “This is for Moto,” I said, bringing the flat palm of my right hand up hard and fast and driving it into the middle of his face. I felt the small bone catch on my palm as I pushed it all the way up and into John's brain. He stumbled back comically, looking like a scarecrow come to life. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped to his knees, falling over dead.

  Felicity rushed to my side and began hugging and kissing me all over my face, hot tears spilling onto me.

  “You're alive,” she squealed. “Thank God you're still alive!”

  “Moto,” I said, reaching out toward my brother, who was still not moving.

  Felicity helped me over to him. His eyes were still open, but his breathing was shallow.

  “You're gonna make it,” I implored him. “You've got to hold on, man! They've got people on the way, right?”

  “Apache,” Moto exhaled, the word was forced from his trembling lips as if it hurt just to speak. Sonya cried and shook her head no, letting him know that his friend hadn't made it.

  “He sacrificed himself for me,” Felicity cried.

  “It's not your fault,” Sonya insisted.

  “In case I don't make it…,” Moto wheezed, trying to sit up.

  “You're gonna make it,” I interrupted, taking his bloody hand and squeezing it hard.

  “…I just want you all to know how much I love you.”

  “We do, man,” I acknowledged quickly, hoping those wouldn't be his final words.

  “Baby please,” Sonya pleaded. “Don't leave me.”

  “You have to live on,” Moto sagely spoke, fighting to get the words out. “No matter what.”

  His hand went limp in mine and his head fell back at the same time. A long wheezing breath came out of him. A cold feeling settled over me, and the earth seemed to flip upside down. Sonya screamed at the top of her lungs, then threw herself on top of him, sobbing her soul out. It was a heartbreaking sound that made my heart feel like it was breaking into a million pieces.

  At last a group of soldiers came over with a stretcher and began positioning him. Benji and I did our best to pull Sonya away long enough to let them carry him off to the triage tent that Kaya and his men had begun to erect near the main entrance to the labs. I saw soldiers running in and out of the building with medical supplies, bringing them to a guy in a medical mask who was now barking orders to other soldiers around him. The man held up a syringe, flicked it, then stuck it into Moto's arm and emptied the contents.

  “Who are you?” Sonya demanded.

  “I'm a combat medic,” he replied, cutting the bloody shirt off my brother and peeling it away from the wound. “I've been embedded with this unit since Z Day, providing front-line trauma care on the battlefield. Name’s Jim.”

  “What are you doing to my brother?” I hesitatingly asked.

  “Just trying to get him stabilized right now,” J
im explained. “Hopefully, one of the survivors is a proper physician that can help sew him up. I'm glad you're here though. He's lost a lot of blood and will definitely need a transfusion.”

  “What do you mean you need a surgeon?” Sonya looked scared out of her mind. “Can't you just sew him up?”

  “I'm going to do my best,” Jim assured her. “He's got a lot of internal bleeding from where the sword came through. He's very lucky.”

  “He's been run through with a sword,” Sonya shouted, nearly hysterical by that point. “How on earth is that lucky?”

  “It's the location of the wound,” Jim patiently explained. “Any more to the left and it would have severed his spinal cord. Any more to the right and it would have punctured his kidney. Instead it went through his intestines, as far as I can see. That means our two biggest problems are going to be internal bleeding and preventing sepsis.”

  “Is he going to make it?” I asked with trepidation.

  “I'm not sure,” Jim admitted. “Let me ask you this. Is he a fighter?”

  “Yes,” both Sonya and I shouted at the same time.

  “Then I guess it all comes down to whether or not we are able to get him the help he needs.”

  Benji came back with another soldier, a tall guy with wiry brown hair and wild blue eyes.

  “I found a surgeon,” he exclaimed.

  “Dr. Rosenthal,” he said by way of introduction. “I worked ER for years before the world went nuts. I specialized in patching up gang bangers so they could testify.”

  “If anyone can save Moto, it's this guy,” Benji pointed out hopefully.

  “Let me take a look,” Dr. Rosenthal said, leaning over Moto as Jim pulled the bleeding wound open.

  “It's gonna be okay, right?” I asked expectantly. “You can fix him. Tell me you can make him better.”

  “We're going to do the best we can,” the doctor said, looking grim. “He's lost a lot of blood. I don't want to get your hopes up. That's all I can say. First things first, let's move him into the hospital.”

  “You better make sure it's clear,” I cautioned. “We ran into some serious zombie action coming into the lab earlier.”

  “Kaya and his men are already on it,” Benji reported. “They've gone in and cleared out all the bodies so people can be moved from the triage tent out here, back inside to be operated on.”

  “We don't have any time to waste,” Dr. Rosenthal informed us. “Pick him up and bring him in.”

  We lifted him and brought him to the hospital. Moto's eyes flickered, but didn't open. Jim, the combat medic, saw my expression as I stared down at my brother, so close to death.

  “Don't worry,” Jim encouraged me. “I gave him a huge dose of morphine. He can't feel a thing.”

  We brought him to an operating room, and laid him on the table. Dr. Rosenthal went right to work, hooking him up to an IV and getting the wound prepped. Jim stayed to help, and several other soldiers with medical experience pitched in. One of them began taking my blood right away, draining so much from me that I started to feel dizzy.

  “That's enough,” Jim hollered. “Now bring it over here.”

  The other medic left my side, and took the vials of fresh blood to Jim. Sonya began to sob at the sight of my brother being operated on.

  “Get her out of here now!” Dr. Rosenthal ordered. Felicity and I took Sonya by the arms and gently pulled her out of the room. Once we were in the hallway, Felicity pulled Sonya close to her. They collapsed to the floor, both sobbing as they hugged one another.

  “Maybe we should give them a moment,” Benji said in sympathy. I nodded. We turned and went back outside, looking to help clean up some of the horrific wreckage the hard-won battle had left in its wake. Benji joined Kaya, assisting him to move the drugged and immobile bodies of zombies treated with Ibogaine. I watched him go without saying a word.

  I wandered around the base in a daze. All around me troops moved purposefully, coming and going like busy worker ants. Some were escorting bikers and Blackshirts to the iron cage that had previously been our temporary prison, re-purposing it as a holding cell for soon to be court-martialed soldiers. Others carried previously zombified people, lost in Ibogaine trips, into a medical tent full of cots that had been set up near the gallows. Another group moved the corpses of both those lost in battle and those laid to rest by the antidote, lining them up for identification along the wall of the trench near the front gate.

  I kept walking, unable to process what was happening. I wasn't headed anywhere.

  Eventually I found myself standing at the front gates, watching the people as they came and went. Felicity was by my side, but I didn't remember how she'd gotten there or how long I'd been watching. Our eyes met and I did my best to fight back tears, but she didn't. They flowed freely down her pretty face.

  “Moto,” she whispered.

  “Don't say it,” I pleaded. “Please don't say it.”

  Felicity took my hand in hers, a bittersweet smile flashing across her face.

  “He's alive, Xander,” she blubbered, breaking out into joyful sobs. “He's gonna make it.”

  I pulled her close to me and held her for what felt like a small eternity.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I dreamed I was surfing. It was one of those extremely vivid morning dreams, the kind that I usually slipped into after waking up too early and not wanting to get up or venture out until the sun had burned off the predawn cold.

  It's a weekend, I thought, fighting to get back to where I'd left off. I deserve to sleep in.

  Inside my dream, the sun blazed overhead. The water was a deep, impossible shade of vibrant blue, so intense that it nearly knocked the breath out of me. One minute I was sitting on my board, and the next I was deep in a heavy swell that kept threatening to pitch me off, fighting to regain my balance. The harder I worked to get out in front of it, the more the wave grew, spitting salty sea water into my already stinging eyes and leaving me gasping. It was no use. Faster and faster I shot down the growing wall of water, my heart pounding, my feet slipping on slick patches of fiberglass before digging in again, as I struggled to get out in front of the beast, again to no avail.

  You can do this, I thought. Concentrate harder!

  A rogue wave came rippling back from the shore, causing my board to jump three feet in the air. The behemoth I'd been trying to ride nearly doubled in size as it absorbed the new waves of kinetic energy, and came to a peak at full tsunami height. A dark shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see the curl towering over me like a skyscraper. My board kissed the water with a brief hiss, then shot out like waxed metal on hard ice, nearly throwing me in the process. I ducked down and steadied myself for hard impact, but it didn't come. Suddenly I felt a rush of water hammering down behind me, and a loud crash like a building falling down. The wave had broken at last, sending me shooting out into calmer waters with a fountain of liquid silver spraying behind me. Lodged snugly in the eye of the hurricane I was safe as I rode out of the mess, leaving it all behind. I could still feel my heart kicking wildly in my chest, but I no longer had anything left to fear. The worst was behind me.

  I made it, my inner thoughts swelled in triumph. For a while it didn't look good, but you kept your head together and didn't panic, and in the end you pulled it off!

  My legs began to feel weak as I rode the smaller hump of rolling water in front of me, ready to kick out of what was now nothing more than a three-foot swell. I turned the board back toward the sprawling ocean and paddled quickly out past the break. When I reached the front of the lineup once more, Apache was there waving at me with a huge, welcoming smile. As I came closer, he laughed at the relieved look on my face.

  “What's so funny?” I asked.

  “You are,” he chortled, unable to hide the tears spilling from his eyes. “The way you paddled out, I would have thought zombies had come back again and learned how to swim.”

  “I'm glad you found it amusing,” I said sarcastically, “I nearl
y broke my neck out there. I don't even know what happened. The wave turned out to be way bigger than I thought it was. Suddenly, I was in way over my head and terrified I might drown. I felt like I was fighting for my life!”

  “Fight all you want,” Apache offered. “It makes no difference. In the end it's all the same.”

  “Maybe to someone sitting way out here in the safe zone it is,” I huffed. “I was caught in that crazy swell, old man. I was freaking out, wishing it was just a wave pool at an amusement park so I could press stop and get off in one piece.”

  “You can't stop the waves, but you can learn how to surf.”

  The words sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard them.

  “What's that? Some kind of tribal elder wisdom?”

  “Actually, that's from Jack Kornfield,” Apache laughed. “But if it helps you remember, then go ahead and believe what you want. I don't think he'll mind much.”

  “I never got a chance to thank you,” I said, gratitude flowing from the depths of my heart. “Or to say goodbye.”

  “No need for either,” Apache smiled.

  “If it wasn't for you, my wife would be dead,” I argued.

  “Who's to say? Either way, try to remember what I told you. It works in life too, you know,” Apache reasoned, his smile growing even wider, “not just out here in the water. Everything is always in motion, always changing. When you understand that, you'll finally be able to just let go and know real peace. In the meantime, keep working on your cutback.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, a wall of water steadily rose between us. Apache calmly turned and rode over the edge, hurling fast and wild down the unforgiving chute of roaring tide, and letting out a loud animal howl of pleasure as he went. It was easily the biggest wave I'd ever seen in my life, far superior to the one I had just survived, and still Apache seemed calm and relaxed as he rode.

  He's not stressed out at all, I thought in surprise. He seems to effortlessly glide along, knowing right where he needs to be to avoid wiping out.

  The wave began to peak and soon the white tip came folding down over him, turning the mountain of ocean water into a smooth blue wall of flowing suction, hungry and powerful and above all, mesmerizing. Apache dug his arm into the wall of water to slow himself down, slotting into position like a needle from an antique record player slipping into the grooves of soft, time worn vinyl. I was hypnotized as I watched it pulling him toward the center, the green eye of mystery churning at the heart of the swell. Deeper and deeper he fell back, but still he never looked concerned for even a moment. He looked more alive and happy than I'd ever remembered seeing him in real life. He let out a deep laugh, then winked at me. It was the last thing I saw before he was pulled into the roaring spume.