Zombie Attack! Rise of the Horde (9 page)

“We didn't put it there,” he roared. “I promise you that.
These aren't our homes. We took over this whole block after Z-Day. We are still
finding surprises.”

“So why haven't you cleaned it out?” It seemed like an
innocent enough question to me, but I could see I was starting to push John's
buttons.

Good to know I can
, I thought.
That might come in
handy later.

“Believe it or not, we've got plenty to worry about right
now,” he spat, trying to hide his obvious frustration. “We'll get around to it
when things slow down. I promise.”

“Got it,” I said, trying to act like a dumb kid as I turned
and looked down at my sneakers.

“Come on then,” he ordered. “My office is at the end of the
hall. I wanna talk with you a spell.”

We walked to the back of the hallway and into his office.
After the Nazi war room, it was a bit disappointing how humdrum the place was.
There was a map of the city with a bunch of stuff scribbled on it and crossed
out. From the looks of things it had been a hard month. John sat down behind
the desk and motioned for me to take a chair as well. I sat and stared at him.

“So how do you like our fair city so far?” He said with a
grin. “Not so shabby? Must be nice waking up without worrying that a zombie was
gonna chew your head off.”

“Where is my blade?” I didn't hesitate. I was prepared to go
to war to get my katana back.

“It's safe,” he casually countered.

“Why did you take it from me? You had no right.”

“It's been decided that the citizens of New Lompoc shouldn't
be armed,” John said, casually trying to brush it off.

“Well I am not a citizen,” I challenged him.

“No,” he replied, leaning forward. “You are a guest.”

I sat back and crossed my arms.

“As I was saying,” John continued. “Only armed patrols are
allowed to carry weapons.”

“That's insane,” I interrupted. “So you are telling me that
if a wild pack of zombies were to march through town, the people wouldn't be
allowed to defend themselves? Why? Are you really that threatened they might
question your authority?”

“First of all,” John managed through gritted teeth, the note
of agitation no longer hidden in his usually honeyed voice, “there is no such
thing as a zombie horde.”

“Yeah? Then what ran us out of Vandenberg?”

“Second,” John said calmly, ignoring my taunt. “The armed
patrols of New Lompoc are more than equipped to handle the Unity Gang threat.
Since we took over this territory, we haven't had a single attack—zom or
human related. The people are happy again. Life is finally returning to some
sort of normalcy. You'd see that if you weren't looking for some way to tear us
down.”

“So it's simply share and share alike?”

“Pretty much,” John said. “I get the feeling that you don't
trust me much. I can't say given what I hear you've been through that I blame
you entirely. What is it going to take to win you over?”

“You could start by giving me back my blade,” I said without
hesitation a second time. John laughed.

“All things in due time,” he replied, a knowing grin on his
face. “In the meantime, I was hoping you'd be interested in sticking around and
helping out a bit. Word has it you are both a fierce warrior and a loyal
friend.”

I thought about Sam the minute he said it. God, I hope Benji
didn't mention him.

“Actually, I have other plans if you don't mind,” I said
derisively.

“You mean your brother in Hueneme?”

“That's right,” I answered back curtly. “If you really want
to help me out you'll hook me up with a car and send me and Benji on our way.”

“You and Benji?”

“That's right.”

“You're not interested in taking the twins with you then?”

“That's up to them,” I replied frankly. “They were kind of a
last minute addition, if you know what I mean.”

“I do indeed,” John said with a wink. “I'm sorry to say that
I can't let you leave right now.”

“You can't or you won't?”

“It's not like that, Xander,” John sighed. “Things are
rarely as simple as they seem.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Our little slice of paradise is pretty hot right now,” John
explained. He turned around and pointed to the map behind him. “The Unity Gang
controls most of the west of what used to be Lompoc. We control most of the
east. We control the northern entrance, to a degree. They still find ways to
get around us. They control the southern exit, by and large.”

“So we'll go around them,” I suggested.

“It's not that easy,” John explained. “There are no side
roads that led out, just a wasteland of trails and hills. If the bikers don't
get you, the cannibals might. And let's not forget that the Unity Gang isn't
all that concerned with killing zombies. The hills just south of here are crawling
with them. Some say the bikers are like old fashioned hillbillies. They set up
shacks in the woods and keep zombies tied to the front porch as pets or guard
dogs.”

“I don't believe that,” I admitted.

“It's true,” John said in earnest. “Some even think they are
good luck. Others fight them in pits or cages like wild animals, betting on who
will win.”

“Money doesn't mean anything now,” I suggested. “What's the
point of gambling?”

“They don't use money,” John said. “Out in the badlands
people trade sexual favors, food, booze, bikes, and just about anything else
they can get their hands on. I've even heard stories of bikers gambling away
their kids as slave labor to other gang members.”

“But why?”

“Who knows,” John answered. “People with addictive personalities
gotta find ways to keep feeding their disorder, end of the world or not. It's
like a sickness.”

“We can't stay here forever, John,” I pointed out. “I know
you want to convert me to your way of life, but I'm on a mission.”

“Am I being that obvious?”

“Yeah actually you are.”

“Well,” he said sheepishly, “can you blame me? You're very
gifted for a young man your age. I hear you are good in a fight as well. That
you stick up for your friends. That's brave. We could use good people like you.
I'm fighting a war here. I'm trying to bring back a small piece of what we once
had. You could be a big part of that. Then, when things calm down, when they
are more under control, you can go on your way. What do you think?”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he made his obviously
contrived confession. He had all the makings of a cult leader. It was clear now
why he was in charge. He was charismatic. Other guys might be bigger or
stronger or better fighters, but in the end he was clearly the brains of the
operation as far as New Lompoc was concerned.

“I'm sorry,” I replied. “This isn't my war. This isn't my
town. I'm just passing through. I have to get to my brother. I can't afford to
get caught up in your fight.”

“I understand,” John said, sounding disappointed.

“So you'll let us go then?”

“Of course,” John responded without hesitation, adding, “I'm
not running a prison camp here.”

“And my sword?”

“You can have it back when you go,” John promised.

Something’s not adding up here,
I thought.
This
just seems too easy all of a sudden.

“Well then,” I said standing up. “It was a pleasure to meet
you. Good luck with New Lompoc. Now if you will just give us a car and my
katana we'll be on our way.”

John smiled but didn't move.

“I told you,” he casually responded. “You can't leave right
now. The Unity Gang controls the southern corridor. For the time being, you're
stuck with us.”

Here we go,
I thought.

“So I'm just supposed to stay here forever?”

“I'm working on a plan to take back the main highway,” John
offered. “I was hoping to get some help from you, maybe change your status from
civilian guest to patrol?”

“How do I know you're not just making all this up to try to
trick me into staying?”

“I am so glad you asked that,” he replied, standing up.
“I've been dying to show you around. Let's take a ride.”

We walked back downstairs. I called out to Benji to come
with us. John looked pensive for a minute, like he wasn't sure it was a good
idea, but he didn't say anything.

“Why do you have a Nintendo Wii?”

“It's for first person shooters,” John grinned. “You know,
to train up new recruits? We can't afford to waste real ammunition rounds
training in the field so we do most of them here. Only Benji wasn't interested
in that so he found the one game not suitable for training at all. He's been at
it for hours now.”

We both laughed. John opened the door and walked out. I
followed after him, turning my head from the living room where Benji was saving
his game play and crashing into a solid wall of muscle. Looking up, I saw a
heavily tattooed man with rippling muscles in a torn Gold's Gym t-shirt. He had
a gun belt on with two firearms showing and a large sword on his back,
my
katana
.

“If it isn't Sleeping Beauty herself,” he said, flashing a
crooked smile down at me.

Anger flooded through me, robbing me of all reason as I
lashed out at him.

“Give it back to me now!” I pounded both fists into his
chest but he didn't budge an inch.

“Someone sure is grumpy first thing in the morning,” the man
sang. “After all the sleep you got I assumed you'd be in better spirits.”

I stared at him in shock. John stepped in to keep the peace.

“This is Tank,” he said. “You met him last night. He is my
first in command. The other man in the truck was Bruiser.” John motioned off to
the side where an almost equally large man stood smiling at us behind dark
sunglasses.

“Give me my sword,” I said in a threatening voice to Tank.
He chuckled.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied, sticking out his hand. I
slapped it away. My hand stung from the blow. It was like slapping a block of iron.
He chuckled again, casting a glance around at the others who were shaking their
heads in disbelief at my gall.

“I told you he had a lot of fire,” John bragged.

“Chill now for a minute,” Tank back peddled. “I'm just
holding on to it until John says you can have it back. We share weapons here,
like everything else. I saw this beauty sitting there and I knew it was
important. I didn't want anyone else to get a hold of it and damage the blade.
Last thing you need is some commando using it to chop wood or pop open locked
doors. A masterpiece like this needs to be handled delicately, like a lady.”

“I appreciate your concern,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“Now hand it over.”

“I've got an idea,” Tank began. “Why don't we spar for it?
You win, you get it back with no questions asked. If I win, I will keep holding
on to it for a while. Deal?” Tank looked over to John to see if he would
object, but he nodded his assent. I didn't know what Benji had told them but it
must have been good. They were all eager to see what kinds of tricks I had up
my sleeves.

“Fine by me,” I agreed stepping back and cracking my
knuckles. Tank looked surprised by my response.

I'm probably the first guy to ever challenge him head on
,
I thought.
If not the first, at least the smallest and youngest . . . and
maybe the stupidest.

I walked out onto the lawn and began to stretch. Tank took
off his gun belt and set it gingerly on the ground before handing my sword to
John to hold. He twisted his neck to the side and it gave a loud pop. I took up
my first pose and let him walk toward me, like a moving brick wall made out of
human muscle. For a split second I thought about how terrifying a zombie he
would make.

“You want me to go easy on ya?” Tank asked, looking around
to make sure everyone was watching as he popped his knuckles, mocking me.

The words were barely out of his mouth when my left heel
connected with his jaw. When I saw his head turning, taking his focus off of
me, I'd stepped forward with my right foot and planted it firmly in the grass.
Then I'd twisted my body as I brought my left leg around as fast as I could,
bending at the waist and pivoting to let the loose leg swing freely toward my
target—his fat head. I'd seen plenty of big guys taken down by kicks like
these in MMA matches, but I wasn't harboring any fantasies of a first round
K.O. I didn't have the kind of power needed in my legs to pull off a stunt like
that, especially against an opponent his size. As my foot came within striking
range of his face, I'd tensed up and let the heel smack him good and hard to
get his attention. It was, for lack of a better term, a smashing success.

I heard a loud crack as I followed through, spinning back
into standing position, followed by a round of gasps from our onlookers. Tank's
head twisted to the side but he didn't go down. He turned back toward me with
an entirely different kind of smile, one I was certain his enemies knew only
too well just before they died.

“Okay ya little bastard,” he spat blood on the grass. “You
wanna play like a big boy. Just don't cry when ya get hurt.”

He advanced toward me, eager to land his first blow with
those meaty paws. I tried to sweep his leg but it didn't budge. Instead, I was
knocked off balance and he shoved me over onto the grass. He attempted to bring
his weight down on my elbow first, maybe catch me in the head or the back of my
shoulders, but I rolled out of the way and he landed on his ass. I didn't move
fast enough though and he was able to pin me with his upper body and keep me
from wriggling loose. I punched out feebly at him with my left hand but he
caught it in his mitt-sized hand and squeezed until shivers of raw pain shot
down my arm. The more I pulled to free myself, the worse the agony was. A plan
formed in the back of my mind. If I could roll over in his direction maybe I
could flip my body around and knock him over with both feet.