RIZEN: Tales of the Zombie Apocalypse Read Free Page A

allowed to shoot anyone they pleased inside
the ghettos, leaving their mothers and husbands to wail over their bodies, leaving
them to be cannibalized by the other slaves who were desperate for any kind of
food. 
    The White Fist used these poor shells of human
beings as labor until their bodies gave out.
    Many of the survivors from her group had walked away
during these stories, overwhelmed by the disgusting details.  Jacqueline had
implored action, and Antonio had been quick to support her.  None of those who
still retained their humanity were strangers to violence.  Everyone had done
what they needed to survive over the last five years.  That had meant
re-killing “turned” family members, friends, and whole neighborhoods in some
cases.  Antonio had barricaded (and kept clean of infected) an entire city
block for a week before a significant amount of survivors had come flocking in
to help.  It was at Antonio’s fortified block where they all first met, and by
swaying him, Jacqueline swayed all of the others that something had to be done
to get rid of these Neo-Nazi pricks.  They couldn’t simply ignore this
genocide.
    The small group of bandits decided to call itself
the Black Hammer, because black was the opposite of white and a hammer could
surely crush a fist.  The reality was that they were out-gunned by a
hundred-to-one on a good day.
    The dozen or so organized raids that the Black
Hammer had conducted, and the resulting movement of the bulk of White Fist’s
forces to the south, was Antonio’s plan unfolding perfectly.  He’d been a
Captain in the United States Marine Corps what seemed like a lifetime prior,
and his tactical prowess was sharp and unmatched.  Everything was now slipping
into place for a final assault.  The main event, so to speak.
    It was just after nightfall that they were to launch
their attack.  The Black Hammer’s small band of fighters was mounted on their
off-road bikes that could cover the desert in relative silence and speed,
taking full advantage of their electric motors and a lack of headlights.  Those
bikes would circle around to the north entrance of Caucasia and lie in wait
behind the dunes. 
    However, the gated entrance to the south is where
the party would seem to start.  And just as the sun crawled into the
mountainous region to the west, there was a resounding and deep boom in the
distance.  Jacqueline looked towards Caucasia, and sure enough smoke started to
furl away in the desert winds on the other side of the city.  That would be the
truck they’d loaded with ammo and gasoline, and set to function on a remote
control.  Shortly thereafter, gunfire was heard in the distance, barrage after
barrage of ‘pop-pop-pop’ that was indistinguishable from firecrackers. 
Antonio and three of the others had opened fire from covered positions, and the
guards had spotted them. 
    Antonio’s plan was to make the guards think it was
closer to twenty men attacking.  He and the others had positioned automatic
rifle after automatic rifle behind the dunes and would dash in between
positions firing handguns along the way, lobbing grenades.  One man even fired
a mortar.  The perceived size of the fictional attack caused the guards from
the north entrance to run over to help defend the wall. 
    “They’re going,” Sara whispered breathlessly.  She
had stumbled, almost fallen down from a tall sand dune and back to where
Jacqueline and the others were congregated.  In her excitement she almost fell
head over heels down into the sand, her skinny legs flying and her red hair
bouncing in spite of it being tied back. 
    “They’re gone from the fences and the gate… we have
to go.  We have to go now!”  Her eyes burned with urgency.  Jacqueline nodded,
resolving in her heart to finish what she had put in motion.  It still broke a
little bit as Sara dashed away for her ATV, shouldering a scoped rifle.  The
girl was only fifteen years old and thirsty for