Zombie Attack! Rise of the Horde Read online

  “Why not?”

  “I gotta listen in for updates and reports,” he explained, holding up his walkie. “A short conversation could mean the difference between life and death.”

  “Just sounds like gibberish to me,” I protested. We passed a bunch of old buildings that had been burned to the ground. From what was left of them, I could make out a Taco Bell and a Der Weinerschnitzel.

  We must be getting close, I thought. Man, I wish I could have some Taco Bell right now. I'd gladly fight off a hundred zombies for a Nacho Bellegrande® and two Doritos® Locos Tacos with a large Mountain Dew right about now.

  “That's just because it's coded,” he chuckled. “They got radios too so we have to keep changing the meaning of things. A couple of minutes ago a guy said 'blue bird on my shoulder' and another said 'cotton tail on the rabbit trail'—did you catch that?”

  “Yeah,” I shrugged. “Sounds like rhyming phrases from a kid's bedtime story.”

  “Far from it,” John said with a smile. “The first means that we are in route to the gas station. The second means that patrolling units have confirmed we are on the move. We've been sighted coming up Ocean, most likely by snipers.”

  “You have snipers?” I asked with my jaw practically hanging open.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  I was actually pretty terrified. John and his group of military wannabe's were much more organized than I had expected. Sneaking away was going to be harder than I imagined. It was starting to look like I was going to be here a while.

  “King is in the counting house,” a voice squawked over the radio. “Pocket full of rye,” came the reply.

  In the distance I could see the gas station. It was guarded like a fortress. Instead of feeling safe, it filled me with dread. We slowed to a snail's pace then pulled in through a line of armed guards who parted to let us pass. John drove through them like Moses parting the Red Sea and parked.

  “Stick by my side,” he suggested as he hopped out. I followed his lead, giving him a little room as one guy after another came up to him with questions. John had such a relaxed nature it was easy to forget he was in charge of this whole operation. Quickly I began to see that a whole lot of people counted on him for direction, for guidance, for support and encouragement.

  “We're running low on lights,” the first guy reported.

  “Ask Jimmy,” John replied. “He's in village four. Radio over to him.”

  “Thanks,” the guy said and rushed off. The next guy in line stepped up.

  “Janine told me to let you know they are having problems with the water purifier,” the bald man groused.

  “What kind of problems?”

  “I don't know,” the guy loudly sighed, scratching his patchy red beard. “She thinks something is wrong with the filter.”

  “Can you send Gilly over to look at patching it again?”

  “I can, but I'm not sure a patch will fix it this time,” the guy said.

  “We gotta try,” John encouraged him. “If that fails we’ll go to plan B.”

  “What's plan B?”

  “I'm working on it,” John said with a smile. The guy smiled back.

  “Got it.”

  “Good man,” John remarked, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

  “We need more food rations,” a short bald guy explained.

  “Bruiser is bringing back some grub after our border run. How low are you?”

  “Not critical,” the guy admitted. “We're down to beef jerky and protein drinks. Another day and we're going to have guys scrounging in the streets for bags of chips and road kill.”

  “Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” John laughed. “You're starting to look pretty thin as it is. Plus I'm not sure the birds can handle the competition. I've seen you tussle for meat. You're downright ornery when you need to be.”

  As the bald man walked away smiling and shaking his head a short, wiry looking guy stepped up in his place, biting his fingertips in between words.

  “Project Wild Turkey is still in play,” the man boasted, looking at me nervously. John's face changed.

  “Just a minute,” he said, turning to me. “Can you give us a moment alone?”

  I nodded. John put his arm around the small man and they walked away whispering to each other.

  I turned to see the rest of the group hanging back near the gas station office. Benji had found an old arcade game and plugged it in. He was totally lost in a game of Galaga. Bruiser watched from the side, excitedly cheering him on. I walked over to find the Parker twins sitting in the office playing with their newly issued hand guns.

  “What's up?” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “I heard you got whopped this morning,” Joel goaded, picking a fight right out of the gate. “Brutal.”

  “I got in a few shots,” I said defensively.

  “Yeah,” Joel shot back instantly. “I heard about your sucker punch. Man, you are lucky that Tank didn't tear you in half for such a low blow.”

  I could feel my face heating up as the anger flooded through me again.

  “I see they gave you guys guns,” I observed, recalling John's earlier remarks on the subject of arming civilians.

  “Of course they did,” Joel bragged. “John knows talent when he sees it.”

  “Made us go through some safety and shooting tests first,” Tom piped up, trying to keep the peace. “Ammo is in short supply. They made a big deal out of explaining that we are supposed to exhaust all other means of fighting before we discharge our weapons.”

  “Does that mean you plan on staying here?”

  “We are all staying here, genius,” Joel chided, escalating the tension between us once again. “The road out of town is blocked by bikers and gang bangers. You'd better wise up and start playing nice if you have any brains at all. This is gonna be our new home for a while and the way you're heading, you're not making any new friends.”

  “I like it here,” Tom offered. “I had hot oatmeal this morning with fresh fruit and a hot shower. It felt like things were almost normal for a minute. Did you get a hot meal?”

  “They probably gave him cold cereal with water instead of milk,” Joel taunted. I decided not to mention the bacon and eggs. The last thing I needed was another fight. The truth was, I was relieved that the twins had bought John's propaganda hook, line and sinker. It meant I didn't have to take them with us when Benji and I snuck off. Suddenly a huge weight felt like it had been lifted off my shoulders.

  Why would John go to such lengths to try to win me over? He hadn’t put that much work into the others so why feed me bacon and beg me to stay?

  “They fed me,” I shrugged. “That shower was something else.”

  “I just stood there for the longest time and let it wash over me,” Tom confessed, his eyes sparkling with the happy memory.

  “Yeah, me too. It was amazing.”

  Joel seemed a little perturbed that I'd stopped feeding into his taunts and insults. Whatever his agenda was, this wasn't it. It was like the guy couldn't stand to see me happy for even a second.

  “I hear you earned a new nickname,” Joel started in again. “Sleeping Beauty, is it?”

  That's it, I thought. I don't have to take this kind of abuse from him or anyone else.

  I balled up my fists and began to march blindly toward Joel, ready to finish the fight we'd started the night before, out on the bridge. I had every intention of smashing his brains in with my bare hands. It took him a minute before Joel finally realized he'd gone too far. I don't know if he thought the rest of John's crew was going to protect him or that I wouldn't respond to his jeers, but he looked truly caught off guard. His eyes dashed to his weapon on the desk then back to me, as if he was considering fending me off at gunpoint.

  I hope he tries, I thought. I'll have that thing out of his hands and shoved down his own throat before he knows what hit him!

  There was panic in Joel's eyes, but he forced himself past that. He puffed his chest an
d prepared for my first blow as I rounded the corner.

  “What?” Joel shouted as I came within striking distance of him.

  “We're going to settle this once and for all, Parker,” I said in a calm, even voice. I thought I noticed a slight tremor move through him, but it could have been my mind playing tricks on me.

  “Come at me, bro!”

  “You ready or what?” I turned to see John standing in the door. Bruiser and Tank were behind him, smiling.

  “Where are we going now?” I asked.

  “To the border,” John replied dryly. “You wanted to see the blockade for yourself, first hand. This is your chance.” He turned and walked back toward the parking lot without waiting for an answer.

  “This isn't over,” I muttered under my breath to Joel.

  “You can count on that,” Joel replied, making a big show out of picking up his gun.

  “Come on, girls,” Tank yelled. “Pull on your dresses and let's get moving.”

  I waited for Tom and Joel to go first, then followed behind Benji, Bruiser, and Tank.

  “Looks like you're equally popular with all the cool kids,” Tank muttered to me. “You make quite an impression.”

  “I made quite an impression on your jaw, didn't I?” I said defiantly.

  “You did,” he said without malice. “It's still sore now that you mention it. Hell of a kick.”

  “You planning on retaliating later as well?” I asked. “I'd like to know how many eyes I need in the back of my head to watch my back.”

  “Worry about the zoms, kid,” he shrugged. “I got my eyes on something way more important.”

  “What's that?”

  “The big picture.”

  John stopped at the Jeep and turned to address us.

  “Listen up,” he shouted. “We're going to save a little petrol by taking one vehicle.”

  “How are we all going to fit in there?” Joel asked. John looked irritated at the interruption. I fought back a laugh as the rest of our group gave Joel the stink eye.

  “Tank will ride up front with me,” John explained. “Bruiser is going to ride the tailgate and keep lookout as spotter. The rest of you can cram into the backseat. Worst case scenario if something goes down, the small one can sit on someone's lap.”

  Benji frowned at the suggestion.

  “I guess I don't mind,” he said a bit selfishly.

  “That's a relief,” John retorted sarcastically. “Gentlemen, we are heading into what is for all intents and purposes a fully active war zone. We can be attacked at any moment without warning or just cause. I am only going to warn you one time to do exactly what I tell you to do. We got that?”

  Everyone murmured their agreement.

  “Keep your wits about you and you will make it out alive,” John dramatically warned us. “Now get in.”

  Everyone climbed into the Jeep in the order he suggested, except me. I stopped John before he could get in the driver's side.

  “I need a weapon,” I begged. I was feeling really uncomfortable with the idea of heading into a combat zone unarmed.

  “That's understandable,” John agreed. He reached into his holster and handed me one of his firearms. I took it, letting the weight of it sink in. “Safety is on,” he warned. “You know how to shoot one of these?”

  “I do,” I assured him. “I'm better with my sword though.”

  “Give it a rest, Xander!” John hit the roof. I thought flames were going to shoot out of his eyes. I froze up, not knowing what to say.

  “The gun is fine,” I backpedaled. John gave me a fierce stare then softened.

  “Good,” he managed. “Let's roll.”

  Getting in last meant that I ended up in the middle of the backseat bench next to Tom. Benji sat between Joel and me to keep the peace. I was riding the hump. I could feel every bump in the road from the minute we passed the guards and bounced off the high curb. John took off down the road and immediately the loud roar of the wind blocked everything else out—but luckily I was in the unique position of being the only one able to hear and understand what John was saying. We were literally in our own little bubble, as the saying goes.

  “Why is there so much security at the gas station?”

  “Because of the fuel,” John guffawed. “Obviously, they'd love to take this away from us. We've still got enough gas to keep things rolling another six months at this rate. We use it not only for the cars but for generators and heaters. It's not like there are any more refineries out there turning black sludge into liquid gold. This stuff is more valuable than diamonds.”

  “If they don't have gas, how do they keep their bikes running?”

  “That's what we keep asking ourselves,” John admitted. “Nothing gets past you.”

  There was that flattery again. I knew better than to fall for it but it still felt good. John sure knew how to push people's buttons. Guy made it look effortless.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush.

  “We think they have a stash of their own,” he suggested. “After we regained control of our territory, first thing we did was go house to house and collect fuel. We pulled juice out of old lawnmowers, siphoned it from gas tanks, anywhere we found it. They must have done the same thing.”

  “And you're keeping it all at the gas station?” I asked.

  “Now that wouldn't be very smart, would it?” John showed his devious smile once more. “Let's just say that we got it strategically spread out so that no one raid can rob us of it. Can you leave it at that?”

  “Sure,” I gulped. He never threatened me outright but it sure felt implied, just like the last time I asked for my sword back.

  “All right then,” he crooned. “Let's keep the chatter to a minimum now. We're approaching the border.”

  John shut off his radio and we rode in silence. I could hear screaming in the distance and the roar of motorcycle engines. The barricade came into plain view. There was no mistaking it. A row of bullet ridden cars cut off one side of a major street from the other. The New Lompoc side was clean and covered with guards. The old Lompoc side was filled with trash, burning tires, and rowdy bikers hooting and hollering as they raced back and forth up and down the street. The sight of it made John's point on its own, but I was starting to suspect that had been the whole reason for dragging us out here. We parked about a hundred feet from the border. John got out and signaled for us to follow without saying another word.

  “Stay close together,” Tank growled as we climbed over the sides of the Jeep. “And keep your mouth shut.” He stared at me specifically before turning his back to me. My sword was only a few feet away from me and I needed it.

  I ought to rip it off his back and give him a piece of my mind, I thought.

  Instead, I followed the group to a staging area outlined with sand bags where a bunch of armed guards were hunkered down with walkie talkies watching the other side of the road. One of them turned around and saw John. He bolted up and ran to him with his hand out.

  “No one told me you were coming,” the man began, but John waved his concerns away with an easy gesture.

  “Don't worry, Peter,” John cooed, addressing him by name. “This isn't a formal visit. Just taking some new friends on a little tour of our fine town is all.”

  Peter turned to us and waved.

  “Welcome to New Lompoc,” he crowed with an earnest smile. Those were his last words before the explosion knocked him off his feet.

  Chapter Nine

  It was like it was all happening in slow motion while Peter was waving and saying hello to us. Dreamlike, a bottle somersaulted head over end above him, the glass and fire catching reflections of the sun, sparkling and drawing our attention to it. It arced high over Peter like a satellite in orbit with no hope of ever returning to Earth. The next instant, it came racing back down, the weight of the fuel and the heavy glass bottle dragging it bottom first toward the top of Peter's head. For a brief instant it seemed like it would smash into his skull a
ltogether. Our facial expressions went from disinterested to horror before his wondering eyes.

  Poor guy doesn't have a clue what's about to hit him, I thought.

  As the bottle hurtled toward him it spun less, the force of gravity correcting it until it was right side up with the thick bottom rushing down to kiss the asphalt. The flaming rag atop the sealed bottle merrily danced like a wild-eyed, redheaded seductress, lost in the epiphany of the impending destruction it wantonly foretold.

  Before any of us could call out to warn Peter, the Molotov cocktail smashed down next to him, narrowly missing the top of his head. There was a loud explosion as the bottle burst, the flames greedily licking at the embarrassment of riches bestowed, a drooling puddle of pure fuel. Instantly Peter was knocked off his feet. Fiery hell shot up and engulfed his whole body as he screamed in pain.

  In the distance, a man dressed all in blue stood laughing. At his feet were several more Molotov style cocktails waiting to be ignited by his Zippo lighter. Several men rushed to Peter, taking off their shirts and jackets and holding him down to put out the fire consuming him. Peter wailed in agony, panicking and having to be repetitively told to roll over and to not stand up.

  Stop, drop, and roll, I thought. This is why they used to try to teach us that in school.

  The sound of gunfire cracking off took us by surprise. I looked up to see Joel aiming at the man responsible for this tragedy and firing away.

  “No!” John cried out. “Cease fire!”

  Joel wasn't listening. His face was twisted up with hatred.

  Something inside of him must have finally snapped!

  “Put that gun down now! That is an order!”

  “Come and get me, cracker!” The gang member loudly crowed at us, then turned and dashed toward a cluster of nearby buildings. Instead of lowering his weapon and obeying orders, Joel charged forward. He cleared the barricade and began running after the culprit at a full sprint, determined not to let him get away.

  “Stop him!” John ordered to Bruiser. Bruiser nodded. He pulled out both his guns and rushed past the cars toward Joel. Several men roughly patted Peter to make sure the fire was out. He moaned and shook in shock. Most of his hair and skin were burned away. There was a good chance that he wasn't going to make it, even if they did get him medical care. I could understand why Joel had been upset, but that didn't mean he should rush into unfamiliar territory and risk his life.