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BOOK: George Washington Zombie Slayer
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Ch
apter 62

The Dark Revenge
of General Cornwallis

 

 

Lord Cornwallis was about as pissed off
this evening as any Englishman could be, so angry that he failed to have his afternoon tea and pastries. He failed to have his daily manicure and pedicure. He failed even to partake in his usual mid-afternoon masturbation and sponge bath. This was shocking conduct, unheard of in polite English society. A true gentleman was supposed to disregard the difficulties and travails of one’s career and focus instead on the routine enjoyment of life’s pleasures.

But Cornwallis was too upset to care. It was bad enough that his “southern strategy” in the Revolutionary War was being defeated by American General Greene, but he now learned that Washington and a small party had completely destroyed the British Zombie Development Facility just outside of Richmond, Virginia.
Thousands of troops he had counted upon in his battle plans were now no longer available.  Truly, it was a sad day for King and country and, for the first time, Cornwallis actually contemplated the thought that the British might lose the Revolutionary War.

Also, it
appeared that Washington and Lafayette had convinced the god-damn French to ally with the Americans and provide them with ships and troops and ammunition and weapons.  Under normal circumstances, the British held the French in low regard as warriors, believing that France produced lovely wines and cheeses, and generally substandard soldiers. But in this case, with the recent loss of the zombie troops, the arrival of the French generated much anger in Cornwallis.

In his fury
, Cornwallis summoned a tall, hooded stranger into his private office. The man walked with military bearing and poise up to the desk and stood proudly before the General, even though his face was concealed.

“You are certain you have no p
roblem in carrying out my order?” Cornwallis asked the man directly.

“No problem at all, General,” the hooded man replied as Cornwallis scribbled the official order on a small piece of paper.  “Why do you ask?”

“This is the type of order that many men might find…difficult to carry out,” Cornwallis admitted. “I wanted to be certain that you have no reservations about doing something that some might regard as…ungentlemanly.”

“I am no gentleman, General,” the hooded man said plainly.
“Although I aspire to be.”

“Well,” Cornwallis replied, “if y
ou fulfill your mission, I can assure you of a financial payment that will provide …a very prosperous and gentlemanly future.”

“That’s all I ask,” the hooded man said as he took the order from Cornwallis and put it in his pocket. “Fair compensation for services rendered.”

“You may expect payment upon your return with your prisoner,” Cornwallis said happily.  “You may meet us at our new position in a few weeks. I am withdrawing the British army to a city called …Yorktown.”

“I shall return within ten days
with the prisoner you have requested,” the hooded man said before leaving the room and climbing aboard his horse. Cornwallis watched out his window as the hooded stranger rode quickly off into the setting sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 63

A Beacon
To Light The Way Home

 

 

George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin had earned a great victory in the destruction of the British Z
ombie Camp, and some nearby farmers, pleased to be rid of the British interlopers, volunteered to assist the three in the burning of the rotting, stinking zombie and human corpses that were spread across the remnants of the facility.

The Founding Fathers swore them all to secrecy
so that there would be no written or verbal account of the event. To prevent panic amongst the American people and promote societal stability, the existence and destruction of the zombie camp was concealed. History would record Franklin as an inventor and diplomat, Jefferson as a scholar and statesman, and Washington as soldier and President. The three would never be known as zombie slayers and that fact would become lost to history.

For several days, the bodies of the deceased redcoats and zombies were gathered up and placed in a huge pile near the center of the camp. When all the corpses were piled together, a literal mountain of decaying flesh rose imposingly over the site. They were making preparations for their departure
, knowing they would leave immediately upon setting the bodies ablaze now that all the corpses were piled together.

“Where are you off to? Washington asked his two friends
.

“Monticello,” Jefferson replied.
“And then some congressional duties.”

“I’m heading back to Philadelphia, and then back to my diplomatic duties,
” Franklin answered. “And you, General?”

“I’m heading back to Mount Vernon,” Washington said. “And then I shall rejoin the
army. All reports thus far are encouraging and I have ordered the Continental Army to advance upon the British position near a place called…Yorktown.  After their defeats in the Carolinas, the British are in a state of retreat.”

“That seems most promising,” Jefferson stated. “It will be such a relief to shed
our continent of these British cocksuckers.”

“Here, here!” Franklin said in agreement
.

“And we now have
the timely assistance of the French,” Washington added. “After a quick stop at Mount Vernon, I shall eagerly rejoin the army.”

“Shall we set these corpses aflame?” Franklin asked
as the three men stood beside the putrid, mountainous pile of zombie carcasses that towered over the landscape.

“You do
the honors, G, and light them up,” Jefferson said, handing his torch to Washington. “This was your plan, after all.”

“A plan that would have failed but for the two of you,” George Washington admitted. “It’s good to have such friends.”  He leaned forward and touched the tip of the torch to the giant zombie mountain.

The flames started slowly but eventually spread across the circular base of the zombie flesh-mound, and soon the entire base was aflame, with the flames slowly rising upward. The three founding fathers hugged once again and mounted their horses for their respective journeys home, bidding each other an affectionate farewell.

“This is for you, General,” Benjamin Franklin said, handing Washington a brown leather backpack. “Another of my inventions,” he added. “It may be of some eventual use to you. The instructions are inside.” Washington smiled and thanked Franklin.

“I never asked you,” Washington said to Franklin. “Where did you learn to fight so well? Jefferson and I are ninjas. But …where were you trained?”

“Me?
” Franklin replied simply. “I’m from Philadelphia. ‘Nuff said.” The three men laughed.

“That pile of zombies is already burning bright, even at noon,” Jefferson said
as the three began to ride off. “I imagine it may burn for several days, with the amount of bodies in there.”


It shall be a beacon,” Benjamin Franklin said, “to light our way home.”

With that, the three departed by separate roads. It turned ou
t Franklin was correct. For as evening came on, the distant light of the burning mass of dead zombies created a dull orange glow, like that of a rising sun, which allowed Washington to ride on towards Mount Vernon, even through the dark of night.

 

 

 

Chapter 64

A Kidnapping at Mount Vernon

 

 

George Washington’s slaves Denzel and LL Cool J walked into the main house at Mount Vernon at sunrise and saw the parlor of the home was in complete disarray. Furniture was upended and pieces of broken glass, porcelain and pottery littered the floor. The door to the room had been kicked in, and several wall sconces had been knocked from their mountings. In the center of the floor lay two of the senior Mount Vernon house slaves, Oprah and Beyonce, bruised, bloodied and unconscious.

“Get some water, quickly!” Denzel said
, kneeling beside his fellow slaves. LL Cool J brought a small pail of well water, into which Denzel soaked a clean cloth and applied it to both ladies faces, bringing them both back to consciousness. He carefully wiped small amounts of blood from their heads, but they did not appear to be very seriously injured.

“What happened here?” Denzel asked.

“A blue-hooded man came, in the night,” Beyonce replied, still somewhat stunned.  “I didn’t see his face.”

“He came
and took Mrs. Washington!” Oprah explained. “Kidnapped her!”

Denzel pointed to LL Cool J and said, “Search the house for Mrs. Washington!” LL Cool J ran
out and began searching from room to room while Denzel tended to his wounded friends.

“Do you know who he was?” Den
zel asked.

“With the hood on,
we never saw him, and his identity was entirely concealed,” Oprah said sadly. Both women were crying.

“Well, you must have given him one hell of a fight,” Denzel said to Orprah.  “You both have some serious contusions and abrasions,
and some minor lacerations,” Denzel said, “and possibly concussions.”

LL Cool J ran back into the parlor saying, “There’s no sign of Mrs. Washington in any of the upstairs room, or downstairs. It looks like she was…taken.”

It was at just this moment, after several days riding, that George Washington arrived at Mount Vernon. He rushed inside to find the four slaves in the ransacked parlor.

“My God, what
has happened?” Washington asked after seeing the breakage and overturned furniture inside. The slaves were both surprised and relieved to see him, and Beyonce ran over and hugged Washington.

“Massah Wash
-ton! Beyonce said. “A tall man broked into da house an kidnapp’d Missus Wash-ton las night!” Beyonce cried, tears still streaming down her face. “He done took her to god knows where! Me an Oprah, we tried to fights him off, but he done kicked Oprah in the head like a mule, and den he punched me in da face like Muhamud Ali!”


Lordy me, but dats the gods honest truth,” Oprah said. “So help me Jeezus!”

“Do you know who he was?” Washington asked excitedly.

“Nossir, Nossir!” Beyonce replied. “He wuz wearin a dark blue hood, so his face was hid. We never did sees what he look’d like.”

Just then they heard a horse a
nd rider come up to the house and they could see through the parlor window that it was a messenger. Washington rushed outside to meet him and was followed by all his slaves.

“I have a message for General Washington,” the young messenger boy atop the horse said.

“I am he,” George Washington replied, after which the young man handed him a small white envelope.  Washington opened the letter and found this simple message:

Should you wish Mr
s. Washington returned, alive, you shall accompany this messenger to a location of our choosing, where you shall be given instructions by which she may be returned to you. You shall come entirely unarmed. Failure to comply will result in the immediate execution of Mrs. Washington as a traitor under British Law.

“I’m leaving immediately,” Washington said to his slaves. “See to the operation of the estate until my return.”
Washington threw his sword and pistol upon the ground.

“Of course, Sir,” Oprah replied.

The young boy spurred his horse forward and Washington rode right beside him. The boy told Washington that he, too, was a patriot, but the British had threatened his family with death unless he served as a British messenger.

Washington was not angry with the young man
, whose name was Fedex, but instead was focused on using all his military and martial arts skills in the task of recovering his wife. They had ridden for only a few miles before Washington asked, “Are you going to tell me where were going?”

“We
’re going to the Natural Bridge,” the boy replied, much to Washington’s surprise.

The Natural B
ridge was a gigantic, limestone arch carved out over tens of thousands of years by the flowing waters of Cedar Creek in Virginia. It stood over 200 feet high and over 90 feet wide. It was a most impressive formation, sacred to local Indians and a natural American wonder on par with Niagara Falls.

As a young man, Washington had surveyed
the entire countryside around the Natural Bridge and had seen it many times. He had even climbed up the side of the arch and carved his initials into the stone. His friend Jefferson had later purchased the property and had built a small cabin there, usually unoccupied, as a place of reflection and relaxation.

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