George Washington Zombie Slayer (26 page)

“Doctor Franklin called this a
hang-glider
,” Washington said as he grabbed Martha and placed her under the center of the wing. “He says it’s a device with which we can sail upon the wind!” George strapped Martha into the device and then wrapped his arms tightly around her. There was only one safety harness, as the glider was only meant for one person. Holding Martha tightly, they could feel the stiff evening breeze as Washington lifted them both to the edge of the balcony, and pointed the glider in the direction of the Continental Army, less than a mile away.

“We’re going to FLY?” Martha asked excitedly. “Will it hold us?”

“Let’s find out!” Washington said bravely, with a sparkle in his eye.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”
Martha Washington panted as her husband prepared to launch them off the edge of the balcony in the hang-glider.

“Are you ready?” George asked her just as the British soldiers broke through the upper door. He didn’t wait for an answer and instead pushed the glider forward and off the edge of the balcony.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” Martha Washington screamed as the glider caught the wind and sent them both sailing into the evening sky.

       
Chapter 67

       General
Cornwallis And The Blue Hooded Man

For the briefest of moments, George and Martha Washingto
n were truly flying! The strong evening headwind had caught the underside of the hang-glider and held it aloft, much like a ship’s sail upon the open sea. George and Martha Washington were speechless, becoming the first Americans to actually fly.

But
in a few seconds, as the headwind slackened, the glider banked sharply to the left and began a downward spiral around the clock tower. The glider was simply not built to hold two people, and it was too heavy to remain airborne.

“Oh, shit!” Martha Washington exclaimed. “We’re going to crash!”

“No we’re not!” George replied. As they spiraled downward, just a few feet from the tower, George turned the glider sharply to the right, in the direction of the Continental Army, and he leapt from the glider. Martha screamed as the glider, now lightened, soared skyward once again.

“You
will be fine!” Washington hollered as he fell and his wife sailed off into the distance with panicked shrieks. “Just hold on tight!” he yelled.

In freefall, Washington reached
out desperately and grabbed the rope that he had originally used to climb the clock tower and swung to the midpoint of the structure, and hung there for a moment, now unsure what to do. There were a hundred zombies below him, as well as 20 newly arrived redcoats, with muskets pointed upward at him. If he climbed down, he must fight them all.

He decided to climb back up to the balcony at the top of the tower to face the undoubtedly smaller force that would certainly be waiting there for him. Several Redcoats below fired a few shots at him as he ascended, missing him entirely.

Washington climbed back onto the balcony as was greeted by three armed Redcoats with muskets pointed directly at him. Behind the two soldiers stood General Cornwallis and the blue-hooded man.

“Drop your sword,” Cornwallis said angrily, “Or they will fire!”

Washington did as he was told and dropped his sword upon the floor.

“At last
, we have you as our prisoner!” Cornwallis said gleefully. “Tie his hands,” Cornwallis said to the Redcoats. One guard tied Washington’s hands behind his back while the other two pointed their muskets at him. Once he was tied, the guards lowered their weapons.

“Go downstairs,” the blue hooded man said to one of the soldiers. “Inform the Captain of the Guard that we have captured General Washington, and that he should make preparations for a public ex
ecution!”  One guard left and went down the stairs, while two remained.

“You swore to surrender your army, and yourself,” Cornwallis stated.

“No, General,” Washington replied. “I stated I would return to the Continental Army and then I would appear here. I have done both.”

“You lack honor, General,” Cornwallis huffed.
“Using verbal technicalities.”

“You break into my home like a thief, kidnap my wife and hold her as a hostage, for purposes of blackmail,” Washington replied angrily, “and you have balls to say I lack honor?” Washington laughed mockingly. “General Cornwallis, you truly are an ignorant shitbag.”

“Vulgarity and duplicity,” Cornwallis taunted. “That’s what I expect from a Colonial.”

“
Vulgarity and Duplicity is sometimes required,” Washington replied, “in the face of a kidnapping and blackmailing British cocksucker!” Just then, with lightning speed, George Washington raised his two hands with the shreds of rope dangling from his wrists. He was holding a sharpened steel ninja throwing star in each hand, which he had hidden in his back pocket and had just now used to cut the ropes that bound him. And sadly for the British Redcoats, they had lowered their weapons.

In an impossibly fast move, Washington threw two ninja stars forward, with one str
iking each redcoat in the neck, and both dropped dead to the floor. Washington leapt forward and did a perfect judo roll towards his sword, which he grabbed in a fluid motion and stopped on one knee, next to Cornwallis, who Washington punched forcefully in the groin. Cornwallis fell breathless to the floor, holding his crotch.

The Blue hooded man drew his sword just as Washington pulled the boot and sock off one of the dead Redcoats, and stuffed the sock into Cornwallis’ mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” Washington teased the fallen General. “Put a sock in it,” he added, unable to resist the pun. The dazed and crotchfallen Cornwallis could only lie on the floor, writhing in pain.

Washington stood now with sword drawn directly across from the blue hooded man.

“You and I have unfinished business,” Washington said, pointing his sword at the man.

“Indeed we do,” the blue hooded man replied, removing his own blue jacket and then pointing his sword angrily at Washington.  “Only one of us shall leave this tower alive.”

“That suits me just fine,” Washington replied.

Chapter 68

Reebock is C
aptured By The British

As Washington fough
t for his life against the blue-hooded man, Reebock slowly led a convoy of three wagons along the Old Mill Road, just past the American lines, along the eastern edge of Yorktown. He was so close to the British position that he could hear the soldiers in their trenches discussing tea and croquet.

The
se wagons had come to the Continental Army just hours after Washington had arrived at Yorktown. They were fully loaded and provisioned at Mount Vernon, per Washington’s message and instructions to his slaves, and driven to Yorktown by slaves LL Cool, Denzel and Beyonce. On this night, Reebock and Beyonce shared the lead wagon, with the two other wagons trailing behind.

“Are you nervous?” Reebock asked Beyonce.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “At Mount Vernon, I’m usually limited to various domestic and household duties. But these tactics of military strategy and subterfuge are well beyond the scope of my normal daily experience.”

“It will be OK,” Reebock said. “Just remember to stick to the plan as we discussed.”

For a moment, they considered aborting the mission as they suddenly observed Franklin’s giant hang-glider sailing overhead, bearing the frantic Martha Washington, who was screaming obscenities as she flew past. But they watched the glider sail well into the lines of the Continental Army and gently touch down within the camp, delivering her safely.

At that moment, from up ahead, a handful of British sentries jumped out into t
he road, with muskets pointed at the lead wagon. All three wagons came to an abrupt stop.

“What’s all this then?” the Redcoat in charge asked, st
epping forward with musket levelled at Reebock and Beyonce.

“
Oh-Lord Jeezus Christ!” Beyonce screamed. “You done scared us jumpin outta da road like dat! Is dis here the army of Gen’l Washington?” Beyonce asked, as the British soldiers laughed. “We has us a delivery of supplies for da army.”

“Blimey,” the chief Redcoat said to the soldier next to him. “These bloody wankers fancied an evening delivery of bits n bobs and
got themselves a tad all turned about.”

Reebock leaned close to Beyonce and whispered in her ear: “I thought the General said they spoke English?”

The British surrounded all three wagons and made all the drivers step down and assemble together. More and more redcoats soon gathered about, soon numbering near a hundred.

“You tossers are in a shambles now,” the Redcoat explained
to Beyonce. “You done found the
British
army, luv!” he added, as the British soldiers all laughed again.

“I TOLD you we shoulda taken dat OTHER road!” Reebock yelled at Beyonce as he looked pleadingly at the British. “Never trust a woman driver!” Reebock added, generating additional British laughter.
Reebock and the other slaves were all escorted to a holding area, shackled and left alone.

“Do you think they believed us?” Beyonce asked.

“I think we’re good,” Reebock replied.

Back at the wagons, the wary British, suspecting some type of trap, cautiously approached the vehicles, muskets at the ready. But as the wagons were opened, the nervous, cautious frowns of the
Redcoat soldiers were soon replaced my bright, joyous smiles of newfound happiness.

For
the wagons were stuffed with barrel after barrel of Mount Vernon’s finest whiskey, and crate after crate of the plantations finest weed, rolled into giant blunts and ready for smoking! All three wagons were nearly filled to bursting with marijuana and whiskey! It was like a scene from a Redcoat’s happiest dream!

“Oh shag me in the morning and call me Sally!” the chief Redcoat exclaimed! “This is the happiest day of me whole fuckin’ life!”

The scene was one of song and jubilation as hundreds of British soldiers flocked to the captured wagons to partake in the captured bounty. The casks of whiskey were quickly tapped and ale mugs appeared as if by magic. The joints and blunts were also quickly dispersed to the eager masses of Redcoats who fired them up almost instantly.

Those Redcoat
s still manning the trenches who remained on duty were not neglected, as their brothers-in-arms quickly passed them flagons of whiskey and bags of weed in ample quantities to sustain them through the evening. Many a hearty whiskey was drunk and many a blunt was smoked that night as the jubilant Redcoats partied all throughout the evening.

The hours wore on and as the drinking and smoking continued well past midnight. The Americans could hear the hearty British drinking songs being sung, and smell the distinct aroma of marijuana wafting across the redoubts. It did not take long before the entire British army was both drunk and stoned, much to
their own delight. Even the British officers, long deprived of any substantial comforts, enjoyed ample samplings of whiskey and weed.

By the thousands the British partied, very nearly to dawn, until the ample supply of booze and reefer was finally, fully consumed. But there was no sad
ness. Each and every man had enjoyed his fill, and more again. And after many hours, shitfaced and laconic, the Redcoats bedded down to a well-earned rest. They slumbered peacefully did the British, mellow and relaxed as only stoned inebriates can be.

In the small cabin where Reebock was being held with Washington’s slaves near the front lines, Reebock picked the locks on the shackles that held them, as Washington had shown him, and the lock on the door of the room where they were imprisoned.

“It’s time to leave,” Reebock said with a smile as he led the small group from the cabin.

“What about the Redcoat guards?” Beyonce asked. “Are not they certain to recapture us and re-imprison us here again?”

“That should not be a problem,” he said with a smile as they stepped outside. All of their guards and captors we asleep or fucked up entirely, and in no condition to stop them from leaving.  In the dim, pre-dawn, light, the small group snuck back into the American lines, entirely unseen.

Only a few British sentries were awake at dawn to observe a tall man in a blue hood walking proudly from a recent fight. Although his identity was concealed, all the soldiers had seen him about camp for the last several days. One of the sentries approached him as he walked towards the American lines.

“I have killed General George Washington,” the blue-hooded man said proudly.

Chapter 69

George Washington’s Final Battle

As he fought in mortal combat
by sword with the blue-hooded man atop the clock tower in the center of Yorktown, George Washington realized that this individual was no ordinary foe. His enemy had been well trained in the arts of ninja combat, in the same manner that George Washington had been.

“You fight well,”
Washington complimented the man as they crossed swords repeatedly.

“You sound surprised,” the hooded man said as he dodged and parried each of Washington’s attacks. “Did
you think you were the only American who had been trained as a ninja?” the hooded man asked.

George Washington
then remembered a story Jefferson had told him during his own ninja training, about a small, American boy who had come to Japan many years ago to learn the ways of the ninja. That boy was a remarkable student, but had been turned to the dark side by ambition, anger and greed, and he fled Japan before his own teachers could stop him. It was now certain that this evil boy of legend, now grown into adulthood, was Washington’s foe.

“I would never
have believed that one with true ninja training would fight for these British cocksuckers,” Washington said mockingly. “Not even a ninja traitor who was turned to the dark side.”

“You are the real traitor here,” the blue-hooded man replied, “for opposing the King!”

“And you are a coward, Sir,” Washington said, “who is scared even to show his face.”

“Do you wish to know my identity?” the blue-hooded man asked,
laughing and then lowering his sword.  Washington lowered his sword also. “I will show you who I am!”

The blue-hooded man reached up and undid the
velcro fasteners that held the hood and masking veil in place. And as he removed the hood, Washington saw the man’s visage and could not have been more surprised.

The blue-hooded man was Benedict Arnold, one of Washington’s own generals!
He was a man and a soldier beloved of Washington, trusted even with the defense of West Point. Now, he had betrayed his country, his army and the trust of his Commanding General. Arnold had switched allegiance for pure financial gain, and stood to be highly rewarded upon Washington’s death.

“I am sad for you,” Washington said upon seeing his old ally.
“Because history will remember you as a traitor… and as a true fucking asshole.”

With that,
the fiery Arnold growled and swung his sword angrily at Washington again, and the combat resumed. The two warriors were locked in a death-duel, a lightning-fast torrent of sword-thrusts and volleys almost too fast to be seen, deadly and powerful. For many minutes, the fighting continued without either man gaining an advantage.

The sore –groined Cornwallis, afraid even to move, still lay in the corner
of the room at the top of the tower, the sock still in his mouth, watching these two ninja warriors fight to the death.

Yet although they were evenly trained, and Benedict Arnold was yo
unger, and perhaps stronger, an interesting thing occurred as the two men continued to battle. For the longer they fought, Washington seem to gain in strength and quickness and accuracy, while Benedict Arnold seemed to falter. Washington’s sword began connecting in glancing, superficial strikes at first, and then in painful, deep slashes against Arnold.

“I don’t understand!” Arnold howled angrily. “I should be beating you!”

“Like the British,” Washington scolded as they grappled, “you will never understand why you will lose.”

“What d
o I not understand?” Arnold hissed, before Washington moved in close with his free hand and grabbed Benedict Arnold by the throat.

“This is our N
ation!” Washington said while choking his former General. “We’re fighting for our homes and our lands and our families and our County.” Washington lifted Arnold by the neck and pushed him out onto the balcony. “You’re only fighting only for money and financial gain. And that’s never as strong as the love of family and country! And you also made one,
critical
mistake,” Washington said.

“What was that?” Arnold said
, choking, as Washington lifted him up and held him over the edge of the balcony.

“You kidnapped my wife,” Washington said sternly. “And you should never fuck with another man’s snuggle-muffin!”

With that, Washington let go of Benedict Arnold’s neck and he plummeted, screaming, to the base of the tower, smashing his face into a bloody pulp and breaking his legs. And lying there helpless, not quite dead, the chained zombies all assembled at the base of the tower closed in to feast upon the flesh of Benedict Arnold, and soon devoured him entirely as he screamed, ending the sad legacy of America’s greatest traitor.

In the corner of the room atop the Yorktown clock tower, the wide-eyed, terrified Cor
nwallis pissed his own pants as he watched Arnold fall to his death. Washington walked over to the cowering limey General and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up and removing the sock from his mouth.

“I suppose you
‘ll kill me now?” the trembling Cornwallis stammered.

“No,” Washington said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Washington released his neck and Cornwallis fell crying to his knees.

“I should have
tried harder to kill you the first night we met,” Cornwallis blurted out as he wept and sniffled.

“The first night
?” Washington asked

“The zombie that attacked you and Martha
the night we all met those many years ago,” Cornwallis admitted, “I sent him after you both, after you took her from me. I was already creating and transporting zombies, even back then.”

“You honor-less shitbag!” Washington chastised.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to win this War. And I want you alive to see that. I want you alive to witness your own defeat. I want you to spend the rest of your sad, miserable life knowing that your own defeat created …the United States of America!” 

Washington
gave his kneeling adversary a mocking kiss right on his forehead, and then punched the weeping, urine-soaked Cornwallis right in the face, knocking him unconscious. Washington could hear many Redcoats running up the stairway of the clock tower after seeing someone fall to his death from the tower and become a zombie supper.

Washington had only seconds to act. Reaching down to the floor, Washington put on Benedict Arnold’s discarded blue jacket and placed the dead traitor’s blue hood across his own face, just as the Redcoats rushed in.

“I have thrown General Washington from the tower and killed him,” the now-masked Washington said to the Redcoats. “But he has attacked General Cornwallis,” Washington added. “See that the General is taken to his physician,” he ordered.

Unaware that the blue-hooded man was, in fact, George Washington, the Redcoats carried out the unconscious Cornwallis
, and George Washington simply walked of the tower just before dawn, entirely unrecognized. Taking careful note of British artillery placements and entrenchments, Washington took a slow, happy walk right through the British lines, telling many of them that he had killed General Washington. He smiled beneath his blue hood and headed back towards the Continental Army.

Chapter
70

Washington’s Victory at Yorktown

As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon near Yorktown, Virginia on the morning of October 14, 1781, the Continental Army of the United States was in full preparation for an attack. The American and French forces were minutes away from an all-out assault against the British lines.

In the Headquarters of the American encampment, all of Washington’s Generals stood assembled
in anticipation of the planned military assault that Washington had ordered for this morning. Washington’s aide and former slave Reebock was there also, comforting the still-shaken Martha Washington, along with her slaves Beyonce, Denzel and LL Cool J. They all stared at the distant city of Yorktown in silent concern over the fate of their beloved George Washington.

As they looked e
ast, they could all see the glowing silhouette of a man walking towards them, emerging phoenix-like from the rising sun. They could make out no details of the tall man, as they all faced the sun, but he walked out past the British lines and right towards the American headquarters. When only a few feet away from them all, they watched him remove a blue coat and hood to reveal the glorious, smiling face of George Washington.

A grea
t cheer rose up as he revealed himself, and as one they ran to George Washington and surrounded him with hugs and loving embraces. Their General was safe and America’s Founding Father had returned!  Martha Washington hugged and kissed him repeatedly, affections which he willingly accepted.

“My friends,” Washington said, “it’s good to be home.”

“We wuz so worried bout, you Massah Washton,” Beyonce said. “Lordy me, you done gaves us a fright!”

“We were fearful for your survival
!” Martha Washington agreed. “Though I can’t BELIEVE you jumped off that hang glider and let me fly that thing alone, god dammit!” she chastised him playfully.

“I knew you would be fine,”
Washington said, hugging her again.  “And I can see by my walk here this morning that my friend, Reebock, has fulfilled his mission and let the British capture our wagons,” Washington said as he reached out and shook Reebock’’s hand. “And your escape from the British went well?” Washington asked.

“
They are SO fucked up right now, mon,” Reebock laughed. “Totally wasted.”

“It appears the British defenses are vulnerable to attack,” Washington’s associate
, General Greene said. “Your plan has worked thus far to perfection!”

“Let’s finish them off,” Washing
ton said a last. “General Greene, you may commence the attack.” Another cheer went up from everyone who surrounded Washington and the Generals sprang into action to begin the assault.

The American and French troops approached the British lines at positions called Redoubts Nine and Ten. From the left and the right of this point they came, first by the hundreds and then by the thousands. With ladders and picks and shovels and muskets, the overwhelming force of American and French soldiers poured forward.

The battle cry was the same for the French and the Americans: “Attack the British and Kill ALL of the zombies that remained!”

The poor, fucked up British soldiers were in no condition to offer much opposition. Still stoned and legally intoxicated at dawn, most were too slagged to even load their muskets properly, much less fire them. Some Redcoats tried to stand and fight, only to be shot.

The few zombies that the British had left were shot and blown to pieces by the continued musket and cannon fire. After facing so many of these ungodly creatures in battle, the Americans wanted these creatures wiped clean from the continent. Now was their chance to eliminate the zombie scourge, forever.

The fighting exploded
forward, with wave after wave of French and American forces falling hard upon the British lines, assaulting, attacking, and pressing forward. On and on the battle raged, until at last the British positions were taken, and the British defenses of Redoubts 9 and 10 had collapsed and were seized.

The
Continental Army quickly moved its own artillery up to the newly captured positions, and turned the captured British artillery around to face Yorktown. These strategically critical locations overlooked all of Yorktown and the British defenses below. With the high ground taken, there was no place the British could run or hide. The cannon fire began.

Most of the Redcoats remained asleep, to
o stoned and drunk to even defend themselves, as Washington’s artillery pounded their defenses.

Some British soldiers who sobered up ran to the front and offered up a meager defense, too little, and too late.

Washington’s cannonade was relentless, obliterating the British lines and soldiers and zombies all. Washington personally aimed one cannon directly at the Yorktown clock tower, directing cannon-fire at Cornwallis personally. The bitch-slapped Cornwallis, realizing his headquarters at the Yorktown clock tower was being targeted, fled mere minutes before the tower collapsed, crushing most of the last remaining British zombies beneath it as they feasted on the bones of General Arnold.

Through the smoke and haze of his cannon fire, Washington peered forward with his spy glass telescope and turned to General Green
e.