CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jenny was slumbering in Alexander's bed when she heard the approaching whump-whump-whump from the back of the house. She felt Alexander slip out of bed.

“What's happening?” she whispered. It was still dark outside. Jenny reached for the lamp.

“Leave the light off,” Alexander said. He was getting dressed.

“What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.”

The whump-whump-whump sound drew closer, and the glass in the windows rattled.

“What's that sound?” Jenny asked.

“I'm going to check it out.”

“Wait,” she said, but Alexander had already left the room through the terrace door. “Fuck.” Jenny got out of bed and hurriedly threw on a dress. She was groggy and tired. They'd only gone to sleep a couple of hours earlier, after about three hours of very intense lovemaking. The complementary nature of their powers seemed to feed both their desires and their endurance. Jenny wanted Alexander more every day.

She followed him to the terrace outside his room, and found herself watching a black helicopter descend into Alexander's back yard, inside his walls. The hot wind from the whirling blades blew their hair back.

Alexander took Jenny by the arm and pulled her down beside him as he squatted behind the low stucco wall of his terrace.

“Friends of yours?” Jenny shouted over the thumping din.

“Afraid not,” Alexander said. He raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Manuel! Get everyone moving. We are under attack this morning.”

“Is it Toscano's people?” Jenny asked.

“Could be. You better get inside.”

“I'm sticking with you,” Jenny said. “Want me to kill them?”

“No, thanks. Sweet of you to offer, though. Manuel!” he shouted into the walkie-talkie.

“Yes, yes, we're moving!” Manuel's voice crackled back.

“I want everybody with a pulse to stay inside the house and lay low. Don't shoot unless they reach the doors or windows.” Alexander said. “But get ready to move together. And somebody bring me the Thumper.”

Jenny watched the helicopter descend. It would be on the ground in less than a minute.

Alexander had ramped up his security after a recent trip to Mexico City, saying there was a growing threat from Toscano's Juarez-based cartel. He now kept eight or ten gunmen around the house at all times, under Manuel's direction.

One of the young new gunmen raced out onto the balcony, keeping his head low. He slid Alexander something that looked like a green guitar case, then watched Alexander expectantly.

“Go on back with Manuel,” Alexander ordered him. The young man frowned, cast a longing look at the green case, then returned inside.

When the helicopter was a few feet from the ground, men began jumping out of it, one after the other. They wore black armor, helmets, and goggles, and carried assault rifles. They broke out into four teams of two that fanned across the yard toward the house, moving like wildfire.

“Holy shit,” Alexander said. “Israeli Tavor rifles. That's not Toscano.”

He grabbed Jenny's hand, then pointed with his other hand at the dilapidated building where he kept his two reanimated jaguars. A row of zombies rushed out and opened fire with their AK-47s.

The men in armor dropped instantly to the ground, flat on their bellies, returning fire. Jenny saw a bullet shatter a zombie's skull, but the zombie kept advancing and shooting.

“Over there!” Jenny pointed to a pair of black-armored men that were on the move, running with their heads low. They were dangerously close to the house—a few more yards and they would be underneath the second-story terrace, out of sight.

Four zombies turned and sprayed bullets at the breakaway pair, who then had to drop to the ground and return fire. The invaders' guns slowed the ragged row of zombies, gradually chipping away at them. The zombies, for their part, depended on Alexander for directions and so weren't the most precise shooters. They used a lot of long, wild bursts.

Then a series of booms echoed across the lawn, and the row of zombies were quickly sliced to pieces. A massive machine gun on a mount had swiveled out from within the helicopter, and now it provided cover for the eight men, pulverizing the zombies with hundreds of rounds. The invaders advanced.

“What a mess,” Alexander said. He lifted the lid on the green case and drew out what looked like a sawed-off shotgun. He broke it open and cocked the hammer at the back, then slid in a single round that looked like the Bluebird juice cans Jenny used to drink in elementary school. He snapped the gun closed.

“That's a big bullet,” Jenny said.

“That's because it's a grenade,” Alexander said. He flipped up the sight and took aim at the helicopter below. There was a hollow popping sound that reminded Jenny of blowing air across a glass Coke bottle. The grenade punched the ground in front of the helicopter and detonated, throwing up a huge cloud of dirt.

The invaders hit the ground at the explosion. Alexander broke the grenade launcher open and handed it to Jenny. “Reload.”

“Um...okay.” Jenny copied what he had done, taking one of the cylindrical grenades and feeding it in. She cocked the hammer back and closed the breech.

While she did this, Alexander pointed to the dilapidated building again. A second string of zombies grabbed up the AK-47s and fired at the invaders. The rest of the zombies, seven or eight of them, charged the helicopter, unarmed.

Alexander fired another grenade at the helicopter, and this one struck the whirling blades at the top. The helicopter blades shattered and shot out in every direction. One fragment sliced an approaching zombie in half. Another skewered one of the invading men.

Jenny watched as one big chunk of blade sped towards them. “Watch out!” she screamed, grabbing his arm. They dropped to the floor together. The helicopter blade skipped off the low outer wall of the terrace, then smashed through Alexander's bedroom window.

“That was pretty cool,” Jenny said.

Alexander reloaded the grenade launcher, and this time he aimed for a pair of black-armored men. The grenade struck the ground between them, blasting the two men away from each other. They landed heavily on the ground. The two zombie jaguars leaped out of the shadows, pounced on the two blasted men, and began ripping them to pieces.

“It's fun to be a grenadier,” Alexander said. He held out the launcher to her. “Want to try?”

“Sure.” Jenny reloaded the weapon, then got up on her knees and looked over the wall. She lined up the helicopter in her crosshairs.

The zombies swarmed the helicopter like ants on a rotten squirrel. They hauled out another black-armored man and chomped on his throat, which the bulletproof armor left bare.

“Get moving, Manuel,” Alexander said into his walkie-talkie. “Clean up.”

Below, Manuel and his men opened fire on the few remaining invaders, who found themselves under fire from two directions, the house and the lurching knot of armed zombies.

“Are you going to shoot?” he asked.

“If it's not Toscano, who the hell is it?” Jenny asked. “The government?”

“Does it matter right now?”

Manuel and his men walked among the fallen invaders, shooting the wounded.

“Manuel, the helicopter,” Alexander said. “See if we can get a prisoner or two. Find out who these people are.”

Manuel's team advanced on the helicopter. The zombies stumbled out, clearing the way for them, and then Manuel and two other men stepped inside.

They hauled out another man in a black helmet and matching armor. Manuel stripped off their captive's helmet, revealing a young man with strawberry blond hair. Manuel turned him to face Alexander and Jenny on the terrace.

It was Seth.

“The healer,” Alexander said. “He's the one behind the attack.”

“That asshole,” Jenny said.