Zombie Attack! Army of the Dead (Book 3) (24 page)

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 nearly 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.

The wave exploded without warning, the walls caving in as it closed out in a massive thunderclap that shook the heavens and sent rain cascading down around me. The force was so strong that it drove me back toward shore, pushing me up onto a sand bar, before it retreated. The water grew calm again as a gentle rain began to fall over it. The stormy clouds that had appeared overhead parted and a ray of sunshine broke through, hitting the water and making it dance with sparkling light, like a golden blanket glistening in diamonds. Apache was simply gone.
 

“You okay?” Felicity asked.

I woke with a start.

“What?”

“You were kicking a lot in your sleep,” she laughed. “And mumbling too. What was it?”

“I was dreaming about surfing,” I remembered, trying to hold on to the images I'd just seen, as they faded like thin vapors of smoke curling into the air. “I think.”

“I'm surprised you two aren't out there right now,” Felicity teased. “Trying to get in one last session before the festivities begin.”

“We would be, but she'd never let him hear the end of it,” I said.

“Don't tell me that the big bad General Macnamara is afraid of his soon-to-be wife,” Felicity laughed.
 

“You know how scary she can be,” I reminded her. “Remember when we first met her?”

“I was never afraid of her,” Felicity insisted, working hard to sit up in bed. “I just didn't trust her at first. There's a difference.”

“Right,” I said sarcastically. I didn't feel like picking a full fight with her before breakfast. These days she was getting her way more and more, but I didn't mind.
 

Felicity started to get out of bed, and I jumped up to help. The blankets fell away revealing her swollen belly. Despite being only six months pregnant, she looked ready to burst at any moment.

“Let me help you,” I said, taking her arm.

“I can manage,” she argued, but held on to my hand anyway as I pulled her up to a standing position. I put my hand on her tummy, and felt a sharp kick from within.

“Looks like I'm not the only one doing some kicking today,” I teased.

“He's been tap dancing on my bladder all morning,” she grumbled.
 

It had been over six months since the big battle at the base had ended with General Helmer rolling up in a tank with the full might of the Unified Armed Forces behind him, and put an end to the military coup that Franco had started and John had tried to finish. The world as we knew it had changed once more, and this time for the better. It took weeks for Moto to heal from the near-fatal wound he'd received in the fight, and in that time he met with Helmer on countless occasions, giving statements about all that we'd been through. Felicity, Benji, and I were questioned as well. Even Sonya gave sworn testimony about her role in securing the Ibogaine and protecting the Project Files, which was the new official version of what had happened.
 

It was decided by the powers that be, that Moto had earned the rank of general for his leadership and bravery. An official ceremony was held in his honor. He gave a small speech and thanked the men who fought so bravely against those who sought to wield power against the defenseless and weak, and reminded us not to forget the brave soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for our freedom.
 

“Let us never forget the terrible price we have paid for our future,” Moto reminded us. “And honor them with the choices we make as we rebuild, forging a new destiny together for all of mankind.”

He could have been a great politician
, I thought with admiration.
Perhaps one day he will be. Who knows? He might even become President.

Eventually, trials were held for those who had participated in the insurrection. Zane and the few remaining Blackshirts who had survived both the firefight and the zombie horde that day were found guilty of treason and sentenced to death by hanging, along with Desdemona, who continued to insist on her innocence even after having countless witnesses testify against her, including me. As general, it was Moto's duty to oversee their executions, a grim burden he seemed reluctant to carry out. In the end, he decided it was best for morale to commute the sentences, opting instead to commit all the guilty parties to a life sentence in work gangs assigned to help clean up and restore shattered communities.

“It makes a lot more sense if you think about it,” Moto explained to those who objected to showing them leniency. “If we kill them, they're off the hook quick and easy. How is that fair? They are responsible for this mess. They should be forced to help clean it up, to see first hand the kind of suffering their selfish and immoral actions caused others. That's true justice, if you ask me.”

Ultimately, I believe he just couldn't bear to see anyone else hung, not after what we'd been through. I know I wasn't planning on attending any executions, including Zane’s or Desdemona’s, who some argued deserved nothing less. The truth was, we needed all the help we could get cleaning up what was left of the world.
 

A plan had been hatched to put the antidote into full production, with Kaya overseeing the entire process from start to finish. The labs had been cleaned out and transformed into full-blown reclamation centers, with scientists and doctors on staff to help save as many people as they could. There were even psychologists brought in to help with the mental distress of the newly resurrected, as well as some religious leaders and a barrage of spiritual healers for those without religious affiliation. Everyone was eager to chip in and help welcome back the former dead. Each new rebirth was like a small miracle, bolstering our spirits and strengthening our resolve to build a new world, a better one than we had known.

It was in that spirit that the military decided to start reclaiming portions of land as well. They started with special units embedded with Ibogaine specialists and doctors, many of whom had left Xanadu to join the armed forces in an attempt to help. First they took back Paradise City, running out the cannibals who fled without a fight, and knocking down a small zombie horde in the process. Moto put Benji in charge of the attack, and the whole mission was such a roaring success that it became the blueprint for retaking other lost cities, including Barstow. Everywhere they went, the opposition crumbled without putting up much of a fight. A few surrendered, but most of them simply hopped on their bikes and fled, leaving behind the spoils of their pilfered loot, and wide-eyed hostages grateful to be rescued instead of eaten or killed for fun. A new light seemed to be shining upon us, with order and peace being restored everywhere it landed. It was around this time that Felicity told me she was pregnant with our first child.

“That's great news,” Sonya exclaimed when we told her and Moto. “I'm so happy for you both!”

“Congratulations,” Moto said, slapping me on the back. “You're going to make an awesome dad. I'm sure of it.”