Zombie Hour (sequel to zombie game)

chapter 35

35

They reached the plane in about fifteen minutes. Joe was aching. Tom was lying in the trunk of the car, slumped over, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Where are we going?” asked Joe.

“We are going back to the military base. You will be safe there,” said Henderson. The plane came into view and the car slowed to a stop. Joe should've been relieved that he was in a car again, but he wasn't because of the events he had just been apart of. The murder of tons of people. And zombies. They stepped out of the car. Joe grabbed Tom from the trunk and dragged him to the plane. But something happened once they reached the plane—a recognizable figure stepped out of the plane, carrying a pistol. It was George.

“Well, well, well,” said George, coldly. “I figured I would see you fools here. Oh and you...I thought I had killed you.” He pointed his gun at Henderson. “I'll let you live. For now.”

“What the fuck do you want?” demanded Joe.

“Oh, your heads on silver platters? How does that sound?” He stepped forward, completely coming out of the plane. “You have thwarted me for so long. As well as God. He actually calls to me. He wants me to kill you. You'll be doing Him a favor. This will technically be a human sacrifice to God who will eventually kill you anyway.”

“Monster,” said Joe, “God loves everyone—He doesn't wanna kill anyone.”

“Oh but he does. All the sinners in this world. Sinners like you. Killing the zombies. They are humans with a disease. And you kill them.”

“They are mindless creatures that want nothing more than to kill,” said Joe.

“No. They are humans. And you will pay with your lives for you sins. Get in the plane.”

“No,” said Joe.

“Do it or you will die,” George said, aiming the pistol at Joe.

“Kill me then,” said Joe, “I don't even want to be in a world like this anymore—a world that is survival of the fittest.”

“OK,” said George. Joe braced for impact. He turned his gun on Henderson. Fired. And killed him. He fell to the ground, blood spreading across the pavement.

“He'll die. But I want to make you and your friend suffer before you die. Now get the fuck into the plane.” Joe grabbed Tom and they were herded into the plane. Joe and Tom were tied to a couple of chairs. George stepped into the cockpit of the plane.

“I have had experiences on airplanes before,” he said. “I have flown and learned to fly, so don't you worry.” The plane suddenly roared to life. George pressed his foot against the metal and the plane started advancing forward, slowly at first, but eventually it started to go faster. It rose from the ground and Joe lost it, vomiting.

He hadn't been on a plane for months...years even...and he wasn't used to it. He just sat there, knowing that his time had come, knowing that he would die under the watchful eye of this madman. But he also knew that he had to take the madman with him, that if he—they—were going to die, then George was going to have to as well.

Joe tried to wriggle out of the seat, but he couldn't.

The rope was to tight.

He thrashed around in his seat, trying to get away.

“Trying to escape eh?” said George, hearing the rattling of the chair. “But you can't. The rope is alloy. You can't break out of it—you can't cut out of it.”

Shit, thought Joe.