The Zombie Game by Glenn Shepard Read Free Book Online Page A

room looked around at Farok’s men. One of the guests stood to leave the room but the guards blocked his exit.
    Farok’s guards dragged General Moza to the adjacent bedroom. On the bed were the bodies of his bodyguards, Simbau and Hajar, as well as the bodies of all the other guards. Blood still flowed from deep gashes in their necks.
    Moza looked from one dead man to the other and then back at his assailants. His face paled and his eyes opened wide. As he opened his mouth to call out, a man slashed his throat with a jambiya dagger. His words bubbled through the blood that flowed over his windpipe.
    A second man in Farok’s assembly stood and was about to speak when he heard the gurgling utterances of the dying man. Quickly, he sat down.
    “Sirhan, you wish to speak about my authority? The floor is open for your remarks,” Farok said softly.
    “No. I have nothing to say.”
    “Anyone else wish to have the floor?” Farok said, raising his voice.
    The stone-faced men sat in silence as they watched one of Farok’s guards enter the room with his knife still dripping blood.
    Farok spoke quietly. “Never let it be said that I don’t welcome your criticism. I invite any or all of you to voice your opinions now.”
    They looked back and forth at each other until one of the turbaned men spoke with a crackled voice. “No, mighty Emir. We are all pleased with your excellent leadership and wish to serve you.”
    Farok smiled. “I’m happy you appreciate all that I have done for you.” His thin lips twitched as the volume of his voice rose. “I am the son of Allah and I receive my orders from Him. He’s commanded me to continue to assault the Great Satan, America, and I’m an obedient son. The Great Satan fears me and those who ally with me. My enemies, whether in this room or anywhere in the world, will be dealt with harshly. General Moza is an infidel who dared to challenge my authority. Allah talks to me and tells me of those who speak out in opposition to me, whether in a great audience or in the quiet of their own homes.”
    He looked each man in the eyes and took a deep breath. Then his normally pale face turned blood red as he screamed, “My dictates will be obeyed! You will follow my leadership! Is there anyone here who will not heed these words?”
    The room was silent.
    Farok’s voice became quiet again. “Now, then, before I begin this meeting, does anyone else have anything to say?”
    A man in the front row stood. He was Muhammad Junco, chief of a splinter cell with former ties to AQAP, Al Qaeda Arabian Peninsula. “I praise your leadership. My concern is that our funding here in Yemen is inadequate to meet our needs. I lack the yer to pay men to fill my army. I ask that—”
    “It is good you brought that up,” Farok interrupted. “My friend, that’s the first item on my agenda tonight. I’ve targeted ten billion dollars in assets to fill ISIS bank accounts around the world. That’s twenty-one point five trillion yer. Plenty of that will go for your forces here in Yemen.”
    Junco took a deep breath.
    “Yes,” Farok sneered. “That will be sufficient to satisfy the needs of your people and all the others represented here. With that, I will lead our people to victory over all our enemies and give our Islamic brethren the respect we’ve been denied.”
    “Thank you, Sire,” Junco said meekly. “What can my people do for you?”
    “I’ll need fifty of your best men to assist with my plans to humble the Great Satan. Fifty strong and brave warriors who will follow my every order to the minutest of detail and be willing to lay down their lives for Allah.”
    “When will you need their services?”
    “By Friday. In four days.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Beneath the National Palace
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
    8:58 a.m.
    A RAT MOVED AMONG the rotting bodies, sampling bites of several corpses. It bit through the sock of one man’s leg. The leg shot up abruptly, throwing the rat hard against the wall. The