Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3) (21 page)

“Alone and unarmed,” John gloated, leaning over and picking up Franco's gun. “That's just how I was hoping to find you.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” John waved the gun around comically. “I'm burning you. You should have seen this coming. The fact that you didn't says a lot about you. I mean come on, man. Get a clue! The real question here is what the hell are you doing? And where's my old pal, Haki?”

“See for yourself,” Franco blurted, letting out a titter of giggles like a rapid string of high notes being played on a piano.

We all turned at once, and followed his line of sight. The thick glass of the viewing room had been punched out clean, like a clear chunk of bulletproof ice the size of a car windshield. Jagged, star shaped glass spread out in a wide radius from the gaping hole, glistening like a fresh spray of powder blown from winter pines. On the ground, in the middle of this mess, was a tattered carcass made of flayed skin and bloody, shredded clothing. It was Haki, there was no one else it could be, and yet still my mind couldn't seem to wrap around the reality of what I was seeing. He looked deflated and lumpy, like a stuffed animal that's had its guts ripped out. His eyes were solid black and lifeless. Blood poured from his ears and nose. He was missing his lower jaw and his long pink tongue hung out, but it had turned scaly and purple, like something from a child's darkest nightmare.

“You're kidding! That's Haki? What happened to him?” John took a moment to scratch the side of his head with his pistol before pointing it back in Franco's direction.

“It's the serum,” Franco moaned, coming to his senses. “The effect doesn't last. In order to maintain itself, the host has to continue to consume fuel at an almost impossible rate.”

“And by fuel, you mean
people?
” Benji asked.

“Anything living will do, but yeah,” Franco replied somberly, looking lost in thought. “The problem is, sooner or later it's going to run out, and when that happens the biological agent will begin to eat the host in order to survive. By the time I got here, he had already punched his way out of the room. Fortunately, he was halfway back to his normal size by then. Shortly afterward, he fell over and twitched for a long time. I think he's gone now.”

“So much for your big weapon, huh killer?” John laughed cruelly. Desdemona joined him, the sound of her cackling was like nails on a chalkboard to me.

If there is one thing that unites them, it's their love of other people’s suffering,
I thought.

“Guess you're not so smart after all, now are you?”

The 'told you so' tone of his remarks seemed to set off Franco, who immediately launched into an angry tirade.

“You think you can betray me? You're nothing! You like to go around telling everyone you were in the special forces, but we both know that's a lie. You were in the reserves, for crying out loud! That's all you ever were. A weekend warrior at best. You don't have the discipline it takes to see something like this through,” Franco challenged.

“That's what I've been telling him since it started,” Moto chimed in, sending John into a fit.
 

“Shut up! Both of you! Or I'll start with your fingers and toes, feeding them to my pet monsters outside while you're still alive.”

“I take it back,” Franco said, straightening up as if things had suddenly taken a turn for the better. He took a moment to get to his feet, and then dusted himself off. He was like an actor finishing a long performance as one character, and switching immediately into another. He cocked his head at John as he strutted like a proud professor watching a particularly difficult student finally coming into his own.
 

“I always knew you had a spark in you, I just could never get it to come to the surface. That's why I kept pushing you. That's why you're standing where you are right now, instead of ruling over a few blocks of forgotten suburbia in the middle of nowhere. You will never have to apologize for being greedy, not to me. I applaud your ambition. In fact, I want to reward you for it. Together, we’ll make sure you get everything you deserve and more. I promise you that, friend. You have my word.”

“Why thank you,” John sarcastically replied. “Coming from you that means exactly nothing to me.”

John made a big show of loading a round into the Glock's chamber and pointing it back at Franco's head.

“You've put up a good front,” Franco said in a condescending, but friendly, tone. “You've proven your worth of taking on more responsibility, of being my right-hand man, but this has gone far enough. Lower your weapons and I'll make you my new commander. You'll continue to oversee the horde and troops, keeping spoils and plunder beyond your wildest dreams, as we take down California town by town.”

John looked hard and seriously at Desdemona, who returned the glare.

It's like they're communicating telepathically
, I thought.
 

After a tense few seconds with my guts twisted up in knots, John broke his stare and began shaking his head. Desdemona's wicked grin told me all I needed to know about what he was going to say.

“Gosh,” John said, the familiar, charismatic 'ah shucks' smile returning to his face. “That is one heck of an offer, buddy. I almost wish I could take you up on it. I really do. But you see, here's the thing. The misses and I just have our hearts set on declaring ourselves King and Queen of California and, thanks to you helping me assemble a gigantic zombie army, that's exactly what we're going to do. But don't you worry for a second. I'm not going to forget about you. I'm not like that.”

John’s smile seemed to grow in proportion to Franco's frown, so much so that it was as if the more John's lips turned upward in delighted smug self-satisfaction, the more Franco’s lips turned down in displeasure, bordering on visible fear. It was clear now that Franco knew he wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this. He'd made a mistake, taken a calculated risk, and it hadn't paid off for him.
 

“In fact, I'm here to personally see to it that you get exactly what you've got coming to you,” John went on, loving every second of his planned-out revenge. “I'm going to walk you down and watch as you’re turned. I'm only sad that my
actual
friend Tank isn't here to see it. He was really looking forward to seeing you killed. He talked about it all the time.”

“If you think I'm going to just let you march me out into a pack of wild monsters,” Franco said in a low growl, “you've got another think coming, pal.”

“Oh, this is happening,” John said, psyching himself up as he locked eyes with Franco. “We can do it the easy way or the hard way, but mark my words, it's going down.”

“You'll never take me alive,” Franco declared, a wild look in his wide-open eyes. “I'll kill every last one of you with my bare hands if I have to, or die trying! I am a trained operative of the Central Intelligence Agency! I answer to no one but the President! I've been waterboarded in Caracas! I've stared down the Shah in Tehran! I've had the soles of my feet beaten before being dumped in the Gobi desert with a bag of snakes tied around my head, and survived to exact revenge on my enemies!”

The veins in his neck bulged as he ranted, but John seemed nonplussed.
 

“You don't scare me! You and your dirty witch of a wife are so far beneath me, I have to strain to even see you!” Spittle flew from his mouth as his face went red with rage.

“The hard way it is then,” John said, before firing three shots into Franco's legs and sending him face first, down to the floor. Franco moaned as fresh blood leaked out of the wounds.
 

“You shot me?” Franco said, looking surprised.
 

“Don't look at me,” John shrugged, “I gave you a choice, after all. It's not like I didn't warn you.”

Franco began to laugh maniacally. It was an eerie sound, hollow and evil and devoid of all humanity. I felt the nerves in my stomach begin to tingle and a growing sense of discomfort filled me as the laughter went on, echoing off the walls of the room.

“What's so funny?” John said, looking amused.

“This is,” Franco howled, pulling a syringe out of his pocket and jamming it into his own neck. John instinctively fired off two more rounds, hitting Franco in the chest. His body convulsed wildly as he fell back to the floor. The empty syringe flew from his hand. It was too late. The transformation had already begun.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Franco began to shudder all over, like his body was hooked up to active electrodes, as violent spasms rocked his entire frame. His chest and arms swelled to the point where his shirt, unaided, tore completely off of him. The seams of his pants came undone almost immediately as his legs doubled in muscle mass. A terrible, high-pitched animal cry came bellowing out of him. It sounded like it started somewhere deep and wet inside his chest, and came rumbling out like an uncontrollable burp. His fingers swelled like sausages, and the nails came flying off like hot popcorn. Blood poured from the bubbled mass of knotted lumps growing on the top of his head, as he sat up and screamed in agony. His eyes had become solid black, just like Haki’s.

John and Francis began firing at Franco's head, but unlike regular zombies, the impact of the bullets seemed to make no difference whatsoever. Franco flinched like a small child being poked by a needle, his face distressed and confused, then he flew into a rage and slapped John with the back of his hand like he was swatting away a pesky insect. John flew across the room and into the pile of chairs on the other side with a loud clatter, dropping my katana directly in front of Franco. I began to crawl to it slowly, as Benji and Moto beckoned me back.

“Xander no,” Moto warned as I reached my hand out for the blade. An earsplitting crack went off again, and my blade jumped slightly as John fired off a round at me and hit the handle instead.
 

“Don't even think about it, Xander,” John screamed, climbing back to his feet.
 

I scampered back to Benji and Moto, who had propped up the broken slab of glass and were hiding behind it. Just as I ducked into place, John fired three more rounds, one hitting Francis and two slamming into the barrier we were cowering behind. I flinched and held my breath, certain that I'd been hit somewhere, but the glass had held. The hot slugs were visibly indented in the surface above us, a spider web of cracks extending out from them like ripples from a rock thrown into a calm lake. I let out a small sigh of relief as Francis keeled over directly in front of Franco.

“Oh hell,” John yelled. “My bad, Francis. Sorry about that.”

If Francis harbored any ill will over the mistake of being shot in the chest, causing his lung to collapse, it didn't last long. Franco now loomed over him, having grown to nearly eight feet tall and almost tripling in size. The veins of his stretched muscles visibly throbbed as he leaned over and wrapped his massive hand completely over Francis's head, palming his face. Franco lifted Francis into the air, kicking and thrashing. A nauseating pop echoed in the room as Franco whipped Francis around, snapping his neck. Francis gave a series of final twitches before going limp. Franco then took Francis's legs in his other hand and brought the dead man up to his terrible mouth, chomping into his stomach and causing blood and guts to spill out over the floor. Desdemona screamed at the top of her lungs, and Franco stopped chewing his fresh kill to roar back in her face, silencing her. She sat down in shock, unable to close her mouth or even blink.

John came up behind Franco and once more let loose a volley of bullets into the giant’s muscular shoulders and the back of his bumpy head, with almost no effect. Franco raised his right leg, then kicked backward blindly, connecting with John square in the chest and sending him cartwheeling across the room once again.
 

Franco sullenly returned to devouring Francis, as if nothing had disturbed him; tearing the bloody corpse apart in big chunks and swallowing it down in greedy gulps. Benji winced and turned away, but I couldn't. I just continued to stare, spellbound and horror stricken. When Franco had eaten the middle out of the man, he threw the remains aside. Francis's legs came to rest near Desdemona, spraying her face and clothes with blood as they landed with a disgusting, wet thud. She didn't make a peep, but just stared at the carcass, a look of absolute terror now in her eyes.
 

Franco came lurching over to us next, since we were closest. He punched down on the glass, making it crack further, but once more it held.

“It can't take another one of those punches,” I whispered. “It looks like it's about to crumble any minute now.”

“What are we going to do?” Benji asked, terrified.

Without saying a word, Moto rolled out from behind our makeshift shield and popped up to his feet, waving his arms and hollering at Franco.

“Hey you,” Moto shouted. “Over here, you big dummy!”

Franco turned to Moto and let out a loud cry of hunger and rage. He had stopped growing, but now looked intent on maintaining his size, even if it meant gulping down every last one of us.

“Moto! Look out!” I cried, as Franco swung his right fist toward my brother. Moto dove toward Franco and rolled head first between the monster’s legs, coming up on the other side into a sprint. Moto grabbed my katana off the ground and kept moving toward Desdemona, but he wasn't fast enough. Franco charged after him, catching up in a few clumsy steps. He wrapped his fist around Moto's waist and pulled his kicking feet off the ground. Moto let out a cry of pain, as Franco squeezed his guts hard.
 

“Put him down!” I screamed, but it was too late. Franco was already pulling my brother toward his horrible, gaping mouth, preparing to take the first bite.

“Moto!” I cried out deafeningly once more.
 

“Use the sword!” Benji screamed beside me.
 

That was it! There was still a chance so long as he had my katana. Moto brought the shining blade up and over his head, stabbing Franco's right eye out. Franco erupted with an angry cry and shook Moto hard, but my brother managed to hold onto the weapon. Franco stomped both his feet in pain and anger. He jumped up and down several times, and screamed as loud as he could. The glass we were hiding behind shattered into a million tiny little pieces. I stood up and stared at the spectacle in front of me. He still had Moto gripped in his fist, and was once more bringing him toward his mouth.