Zombie Paradise Lost: Still Alive Book Six

by Javan Bonds

  Luckily, Hammer enjoyed eliminating the enemies of capitalism. In my opinion, people like the Indian ninjas, the bodybuilders, and maybe the super soldier that was The Expert, should have been her full-time bodyguards. At least with Hammer backing me up, Aka, who filled out the skin-tight X-Men Storm outfit, would only have half as much chance of getting killed.

  Amazingly, the name of this lock & dam was on a large, green sign in our line of sight. The C. A. Hoaks dam was locking a man-made lake and looked pretty free of infected. Is it surprising to learn that only the locations where I go, there are countless reanimated corpses causing so much trouble? I’m still not sure of the date or how many decades we’ve been on the river, or even where the hell in Alabama we are. I could just ask, but you know that’s not going to happen.

  Before me and Hammer followed our principal, Aka, into a nest of blunatic cannibals, I wanted to get a haircut. If I was about to be turned into a fucking zombie, I wanted a fresh flattop before I died horribly, damn it.

  Before going below deck to put on my Cylon suit, I spoke to the assembled crew. “Anyone here cut hair?”

  I was, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when The Oracle raised a meaty hand. “I got dis, mufucka.”

  “You cut hair?” I ask hesitatingly.

  “Hells yeah, cuz! I can clip yo mop.”

  Raising an eyebrow. “You gonna tell me you went to school for that?” I almost finished the sentence with “too.” Smokes probably would’ve sat on me and killed me.

  “Listen, weina dumpsta! I worked at my pawpaw’s barba-shop when I’s a kid.”

  I looked at him, confused as to why he wouldn’t think of a better lie. “But your pawpaw’s a preacher.”

  “Naw shit, cracka. I gots two pawpaws!” He held up two fingers.

  Oh! I called both of my grandfathers the same thing, as well. It’s a consequence of having all older first cousins. It can be confusing when speaking to a stranger, so I dipped my head and let it slide.

  I paused again. “Wait. Can you cut... white people’s hair?”

  That really didn’t sound as bad in my head. What? Seriously! Black people have different textured hair than white people! I’m not even going to try to explain the reason I ask that question to you, just read how I was exposed for being a closet KKK member.

  Smokes drew back in shock. “Da fuck, cracka?” I tried to say something to backtrack, but he continued. “You sayin’ I ain’t worthy to cut yo hair cause I’m just a darkie?” It was too late to try and save myself now. I only braced myself to be beaten to a bloody pulp with the race card.

  He threw his voice. “Oh, please massa, gimme permission to cut yo hair, massa! I do’s it fo’ free.” He raised one eyebrow and fell back into his usual verbal stance of being the offended black guy. “I might not even scalp yo white ass head, mufucka.”

  I just dropped my shoulders, realizing I had done it to myself. If I refused the trim now, I would never hear the end of it. But then again, if I let my husky friend put sharp objects against my head, I could possibly die. Oh, and I would still never hear the end of it. There was no recourse.

  “Let’s do this, Big Poppa!” I swallowed the lump in my throat and moved to a chair.

  ☠☠☠

  Giddy like a kid, he rushed below deck to retrieve his equipment. He hustled back up the stairs with an electric razor and a selection of several blades in hand. I had never been so nervous about getting my hair cut I sat down in one of the chairs Crow fishes from every day. He threw one of those capes over me; I had no clue where the hell it came from. The buzzer and the razors probably didn’t exist either until Smokes had a conversation with God or The Screenwriter. They were miracled down to him on a rainbow of fatty snacks.

  I tensed as he clicked the buzzer. “If you fuck this up, you know I’m going to kill you.”

  He chuckled and pointed over to my bald brother. “Cuz, trust me. He likes my stylin’!”

  Wait.

  Easy let Smokes shave his head? That means he let someone that doesn’t have a Masters degree from cosmetology school put their hands on the perfect sculpture, which is his outward appearance? I shrugged. If my brother felt safe with The Oracle putting a razor against his scalp, it had to be okay.

  I relented; glad to be rid of the hair. “Get it over with dude from Barbershop!”

  “Dat's Ice Cube cracka,” was the only reply before Smokes turned on the clippers and started humming “Today's a Good Day” by Ice Cube.

  ☠☠☠

  I ran my hand up from my neck to the top of my head and whistled. “Oh my God! I didn’t even know you could make it that skintight.” I didn’t feel blood or bone. This was the best damn haircut I ever got. With no mirror, I was only judging by feel, but this was perfect.

  He chuckled with pride. “Told you, cuz! First one free.” I thought about that and then realized what he would be bartering for, food.

  I pulled the cape off as I stood and turned around. “You’re cutting my hair for the rest of my life!” Frowning, I foresaw him dying from blocked arteries or diabetic ketoacidosis in the next couple of years. “Well, at least for the rest of your life.”

  He shot a meaty finger pistol at me before going below to return the equipment. I followed him down the stairs to go in the bathroom and gear myself up in the Cylon suit.

  My bodybuilding sibling passed me in the hall and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. He ran his knuckles against the side of my head. “Holy shit! Skintight, huh?”

  “Same thing I said.” I smiled as I continued to the deck. I forgot to thank him for wishing me luck, the bastard. He did touch me, so maybe that’s why I’m alive now.

  ☠☠☠

  One of the countless multitudes leaped in my direction. It wouldn’t have been able to bite through metal even if it was able to get its teeth against my armor, but it landed on my blade. The monster put me onto my back, and its entire weight was now pressing against my bat'leth.

  The razor-sharp edge caught it between two sets of ribs poking out over the malnourished belly. The pressure caused steel to dig into blue skin. When the peevie realized something hurt, it tried moving, and that only slid the blade deeper. It was screaming in agony when I heard something like balloons pop underwater. I knew what happened. The scream was immediately cut off, and it reached for its throat.

  I screamed at the inhuman monster. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wanting to kill it and be done with the thing. I didn’t want to fucking torture it.

  It stood up and backed away. I was going to have to chase the motherfucker and make it quicker. The thing ran straight past Aka, down the empty corridor lined with blue, dismembered bodies. It started bouncing from wall-to-wall, trying to figure out why it couldn’t breathe.

  I don’t know why the hell I even followed it; it was going to die anyway! Maybe I just felt responsible for putting it in such torment and had to put it out of its misery. Eventually, it slipped in some of the infected blood that coated the floor, sending it into a prostrate position. How long can one fucking survive without oxygen? There’s no way I could sprint a quarter mile down a hallway while I was suffocating to death.

  Running at full tilt, I stepped in my own pool of slippery crimson. I planted a foot to forestall the hydroplaning. Bringing my other foot down, I stopped myself just as I came to the re-animant, spread eagle before me.

  Intending to plant my foot on the ground, it just so happened to land on the privates of the infected. My metal boot tore into blue testicles and smashed the tiny twig. I nearly threw up when I heard two distinct pops. The toe of my boot was sure to mash into the taint and asshole of the beast.

  “Shit! I’m sorry.”

  This was horrible. I wanted to make it quicker and just made it fucking worse. Damn, I felt even worse than if I had left the animal just to suffocate! Quickly, I pushed the tip of my weapon down onto the back of the skull. Ruptured grey matter and stinking blood ran from the wound

  I turned; satisfi
ed I had finally put it at peace, eventually. I raised the genitalia destroying foot and brought it down on the clean floor. Whatever kind of bile or juice that had been in the sagging balls still coated my boot. Planting that foot, I began to take a step to the other. It shot out from under me, and I started going backward in slow motion.

  “Dammit!”

  When I finally hit the ground my helmet popped off and shot behind me. No biggie, I thought. Well, it turns out it was a fucking biggie. My Klingon weapon lay on the ground to my side, and I was reeling. I’m surprised I remained conscious with my head bouncing off the metal helmet. The neck of the suit nearly cut my fucking head off when I first impacted the ground; almost giving me a concussion!

  I was in no shape to do anything besides lay there and mumble vulgarisms. I wasn’t prepared for an attack. Fuck The Screenwriter and the horse he rode in on. You can guess what I got.

  The Expert shouted from across the expanse. “Mo! Pull your arms up.”

  The instant I did as she commanded naked flesh smacked against metal. I felt the weight. Still dazed, I realized there was a revenant on top of me trying to grab my arms. It was able to push them down, but not get through them. My fingers were touching my chin. It couldn’t bite me, but it brought its hand up to grapple at my neck.

  Just as it did, Hammer dove to slide mere inches from the bottoms of my feet. She drove Anduril, the broadsword of Aragorn, into the thing’s asshole. It nearly instantly died as the steel ripped through organs and poked out the top of the chest. In the final conscious movement, it brought its hand down to scratch my bare neck.

  Hammer used her massive blade to swing the truly dead corpse off of me where it lay twitching on the floor. Stunned, I sat up and reached to feel my neck, not realizing I wouldn’t have been able to feel anything anyway. Hammer moved closer to me to rest on her knees in between my legs. If I had been able to think about it, this would have weirded the hell out of me.

  She wrapped her armored arms around my neck. “It didn’t get you. It didn’t get you. You’re okay. You’re okay.” She was rocking me back and forth like a mother consoling a frightened child.

  You know, this probably looked strange as hell to the audience; Samus holding and cooing a Cylon. It didn’t bite me; it just scratched me. What if it had saliva, blood, shit, or some other kind of infected body fluid under its nails? It could’ve killed me with just a scratch!

  My senses were rapidly returning as I stood, shaking my gauntlets off. I reached up and put my bare hand around my neck again. No blood. It didn’t feel wet. But that really didn’t mean anything.

  I pointed at the blue body on the floor. “Where the fuck did that come from? And how the fuck did it get there?” I spun, pointing a finger at my sister-in-law. My voice was growing louder with each syllable. “And why the fuck didn’t you stop the damn thing?”

  Aka shrugged, her iklwa lifting from the ground. “I didn’t see it.”

  “And you expect me to believe it didn’t see you?” I was incredulous.

  She again gestured with her shoulders. “It really didn’t seem like it did.”

  There were more raving blunatics headed our way. We could hear them howling and screaming from all the way down here. I guess I can be thankful to The Screenwriter for at least giving us a short lull while I had a come apart on Aka. I jogged back to retrieve my head cover as The Expert charged straight into the blue oblivion.

  ☠☠☠

  Standing with my bat’leth on its end in front of me, my hands against one end, I leaned onto my weapon. I pointed forward without lifting my arms. “See? She loves this shit. Make sure I’m partnered with her from now on.”

  Here I was standing beside my sister-in-law, dumbfounded that she was able to bear being in such proximity to a peeping tom. We were watching The Expert slay every enemy within reach. It was breathtaking to watch Samus’s roundhouse behead nearly a handful of revenants in one swing of her blade. In fact, the bodies would fall, and blood would rocket. I’m still sure most people don’t even know the body can fucking shoot blood like a geyser. It was like we were watching a scene from Kill Bill. There were more dismembered limbs around her than there were on any given day of my playing with Legos as a child!

  Without even thinking about it, Aka basically admitted the rest of the crew had some sort of control over the random drawings. “I’ll be sure to let the others know about that.” Aha!

  There was only the smallest amount of anal seepage from the starving demons when she sliced clean through them or stabbed into vital organs. Her suit of armor was nearly utterly crimson. Hammer’s kill ratio was ridiculous, and I would’ve paid money for whatever kind of hack she was using. Not just a mere console code, this had to be a separate program running in the background. Aimbot and God mode!

  I was still not sure if I had become infected or not. The easiest way to know for sure was to see if the undead noticed me. But that meant I would have to get in between Hammer and some of her glorious victory. Did I really want to put forth the effort like walking to see if the enemy came at me? Maybe I should just let our communist killing patriot destroy all the tangos.

  After the Captain slashed through at least a hundred blue, filthy bodies and we were nearing the exit; I saw a perfect opportunity. One of the slower stragglers, what had to have been an elderly man, a Vietnam vet or something, approached The Expert. The beast moved at a geriatric trot. Stepping up beside her, I watched as she eviscerated another enemy.

  I held up my alien blade. “I got this, Cap.”

  I walked over to the figure, realizing why it was so slow and short. I don’t mean like a short dude, five foot six or something; I’m talking dwarf short. It didn’t have shins! There were feet, just no legs below the knee. And I know you’re thinking that maybe it was just a short dude in life and I’m a horrible person for making fun of one after death. Nope! It wasn’t some optical illusion. It was like Cotton Hill. Come on! You know what I’m talking about! Hank Hill’s dad from King of the Hill. No shins. Ankles appeared attached to knees. Known for the line, “Those damn Tojos shot my shins off!

  Does that type of procedure actually exist? I was more worried about figuring out why this would’ve been done than killing the damn thing — backpedaling to give myself time to think. This obviously had been done on purpose, but the reason was beyond me.

  I stepped forward again, and the animal reached in my direction. That still wasn’t proof, but I was satisfied for the moment. I could still be infected and invisible; it could have been reaching for Hammer.

  Forcefully, I brought my blade up and into its side. Skin ripped, and organs ruptured as the animal fell over its short legs. I slammed the heel of my foot onto the skull, grey matter oozing from every orifice in the cranium, ensuring the destroyed revenant was truly dead.

  Turning, I could see The Expert staring at me. It was obvious her mouth was hanging open inside the helmet. I felt that I had been adequately violent and did a mental fist pump. Hell yes!

  That’s right lady; I’m a badass. I just basically murdered a defenseless, old cripple. Wait. I felt cool until I just wrote that down. Shit, now I feel bad about doing it!

  ☠☠☠

  After the almost daily routine of heaving myself up the rope ladder, I stood facing my brother. My explanation of the journey through the dam interior was a pretty short synopsis. “Then it scratched me.”

  “Are you infected?” Thanks for the kind words and brotherly love, dick.

  “Well, I don’t reckon. The very last peevie in there reached for me.” I bowed my chest. “And then I killed it.” I imitated my swinging motion and stomp to show off some of my badassery.

  My sister-in-law was kind enough to clarify. “It was a handicapped senior.”

  My bald headed sibling sucked in through his teeth and looked at me with disapproval. Thanks, Aka! I really needed Easy to have another reason to be disappointed I was related to him.

  I cut my eyes at her. “Really? You really
couldn’t just let me have that?”

  A simple shrug said it all. “That’s what you get for walking in on me while I’m naked.” I knew this wouldn’t be her final form of vengeance.

  Throwing my hands up, I turned back to my bodybuilding sibling. “I know, chill! I’ll chain myself to the mast tonight.”

  There was no chance I would infect Sarah. I almost wanted to punch her after our first kiss when we were both convinced I had been bitten. That would’ve been her fault. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let it be mine. I’d’ve never heard the end of it!

  Good God, could you imagine that? I already get bitched at, just for bringing her on this damn cruise where she barely has to lift a fucking finger. Even as a stupid zombie, I would rather kill myself than listen to her tell me how much of a mistake I am for eight hours until she turns. But then, she would actually be naked in front of me. That might be okay. I take back what I said.

  The Old Friend broke into my inner thoughts about seeing my girlfriend blue... With no clothes on. “It’s okay man. If I hear you raving, I’ll be sure to come out here and put you down quick.” Much appreciated, Bradley! He would be a good friend and blow my fucking brains out.

  I now sit here in the dark, about to close this notebook up into one of the waterproof bags I habitually carry with me everywhere. Living on a boat, I learned quickly that if I wanted to use shit more than once, you keep it in the waterproof bag. I’ll throw the bag as far out of my reach as I can. If I do turn, at least my last words won’t be covered in shit!

  26

  Worth It

  The peevie formally known as the Warden Slice was uncharacteristically late. There had been a newly born Whitetail fawn recently dropped by its mother, only a short distance back. Just born, it wasn’t yet able to walk. The mother certainly was, and it wasn’t waiting around with a blue one close. When faced with life or death, even a new parent will sometime chose flight over protecting a young one. That was probably the most prudent choice the animal could have made when faced with a starving monster.