Zombie Paradise Lost: Still Alive Book Six

by Javan Bonds

  The blue skin and subhuman yellow eyes were scary as fuck, but even the facial structure apparently morphed into something like a demonic alien animal. No, I don’t mean it looked like a cat.

  Of course, the cheeks were gaunt and hollow. Really, it didn’t look like it was only from the lack of food but a natural sickly emptiness. As if any part of these fucking creatures can be considered natural. Besides just that, the lower jaw was clearly sticking out further than that of most Homo sapiens. The top canines also appeared more prominent. Not fangs, but they looked slightly longer than I last remember seeing mine in the mirror.

  Having creeped the holy fuck out of you, just remember that this is all speculation, based on the study of one peevie. Perhaps it was just some kind of fucked up retard in life. I know I’ve been up close and personal with numerous peevies over the millennia we’ve been on the river, I just haven’t taken the time to look at them closely. The fact they usually are screaming, shitting, or trying to bite me draws my attention away from a fucking medical examination!

  The rail-thin monster with an erect and also rail-thin penis hesitantly charged. I held my bat’leth horizontally, about chest level. Stepping forward, I made sure to put both hands firmly around the grips. Not because I have ever dropped the damn thing before. Honest!

  Stepping forward slowly, it was apparent I didn’t really want to get any closer to the damn thing than it did to me! Why the hell do the peevies get aroused when food is in the vicinity? Sure, I’ll admit I get excited to see a steak on the table, but I don’t pop a fucking boner. Admit it, we’ve all noticed dogs get excited about food from time to time, but shit! I don’t remember the last time I saw a peevie when it wasn’t pitching an invisible tent. By the way, this particular invisible tent would have to be exceptionally lightweight. That stake wasn’t going to hold very much up or very high.

  The snail’s pace version of Mortal Kombat collided with disgusting effect. My alien blade was pushed out at the last instant. The inner points penetrated the blue skin between its penultimate rib and the one above on both sides. Yanking my weapon to free it, the shrieking nudist came along with it. Why the hell do I have a problem with getting my steel stuck in ribs? I thought about planting my foot on the stomach and just getting it loose that way, but before I attempted that I decided to try flipping the grips down, bringing the blade up and back towards me.

  I should’ve tried kicking it.

  Maybe because of the poor eating habits of revenants, the skin had become just as weak as the bone. The ribs my blade was currently pushing against caved in under the stress and splintered like toothpicks. Dermis exploded right along with it, breaking open like a rotten tomato in the sun. My blade came free as the belly below the ribs fell open and spilled most of its contents onto the floor. A shriveled stomach was recognizable. I couldn’t tell the difference, however, between colon, liver, pancreas, spleen, or any other organs that rolled out with a sickening plop.

  Alas, it was easy to tell intestines when steaming, shit filled tubes came pouring out, seeping onto the floor. Three fat men that just left an all-you-can-eat buffet couldn’t come close to the amount of wreaking sludge that seemed to roll endlessly from the now dismembered organs. Sloppy logs of mushy, runny licorice crackled as they touched air. Taking in the near consciousness depriving scent of the porridge coated in melted tires was such a fucking bonus. I’d never ask for anything for Christmas ever again!

  The creature could only stare down at its fresh entrails, mouth agape. Accusingly, the bewildered gaze asked an unspoken question. “Why did you do that?”

  I need to start being more efficient in killing the damn things rather than just brutally maiming them.

  “Shit! Hold still and I’ll–“

  Hammer took this late opportunity to step over and swing her massive broadsword between me and the ghoul. The blade zinged through the air, coming entirely too close to me, being brought to the end of its journey after slicing through the neck. Unexpectedly, it didn’t make the pass cleanly, as you would figure a razor-sharp blade to do. I had seen it do exactly as one would guess more than once. Why the hell do weird things occur when I’m around?

  Even though I saw the edge of the sword drive straight through, it was nearly like she pushed Anduril through it sideways! The throat and arteries were forced back to where the hairline of an attached head would be. Dark red blood flowed behind it, causing the floor to be blackened nearly like the animal had been full of feces.

  The cranium rolled over, a ragged stump facing me. Unsure why, I almost laughed as the dying nerves fired, causing its tongue to jerk around in the mouth, thereby making the uvula bounce up and down. After a couple of seconds, the eviscerated, twitching body fell over into the slop covering the ground in front of it.

  Like a movie or a novel, the horrific events seemed to drag on for an eternity. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Horror was perceived instantly through vision. On paper, it takes paragraphs or pages. Just be glad you are only reading about the disgusting events, and don’t have to watch out for their unfolding smell.

  Completely dumbfounded, I dropped my hands to my sides. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

  Samus looked to me, surely giving me the stink eye behind her helmet. “Because I thought you could handle it!” She didn’t say it, but we all know she was thinking it. “Apparently not.”

  “Really? Really? You really thought I ever had a handle on fucking anything?”

  “Well, I guess I’ll know next time.”

  My only response was to flip her a skyward, left-handed, metal bird.

  Just as I was about to say something, surely stinging to The Expert, a keening sounded from behind her. We both looked to see Mary pivot on Bradley’s shoulder to face the far corner. I knew this building looked bigger from the outside! Obviously, this was the pistol section of the building; the other side must have been the pawn part. That kind of makes sense now. Larry’s Pistol and Pawn, get it? The undead were now coming at us from the outside and through that interior door in the corner. Oh, Joy.

  Why didn’t we just give the damn monkey a gun? She could carry a small .380 or a derringer pistol. It goes without saying she’d be a better shot than me! Now I can't get the image of Mary in a 19th century western women’s outfit, with a garter belt out of my mind. A blue cannibal burst through the door with no time to even take a glance at its surroundings. A thick, gray handled dagger appeared, sticking into the door facing behind it. Oh, the Romulan throwing knife was also sticking through the thing’s neck! It gurgled and kicked a few times before gradually growing still, hanging limply on the short blade.

  Mary just had to prove she was more of a badass than I could ever be. The Innocent sprang from her master’s shoulder, bounced on the display case a good six feet away, wrapped her hands around the knife, pushed off on the truly dead infected to again land on the counter, and then backward jumped to land perfectly still on Daredevil’s muscular shoulder. Don’t forget that in the jump back to her original position, she made sure to do a fucking somersault! Why the hell doesn’t Mary count as the third member of the party? She can do a shitload more work than me. You can bet your ass she’s better at it than I am. Clearly, she’s more efficient with her blade.

  While I was still trying to wrap my mind around the flying-monkey-ninja on the other side of the room, raving nudists were piling unnoticed, through the front door, like opening-night of The Dark Knight. The armored heroine sure noticed. Her mad rush into the coming horde broke me away from my daydreams of the incredible primate. Shit, I was going to have to join in the melee.

  ☠☠☠

  Anduril must’ve been enchanted or had a fucking power up. When Hammer brought her blade around in a half circle in front of her, I swear it actually knocked peevies down that she didn’t even touch. She sliced open at least half a dozen monsters. Another six were lying on the floor with clearly broken bones. Again, I’m not sure how the hell that was e
ven possible, but there it was.

  A torrent of blood and bodily fluids appeared as The Flame of the West disemboweled, dismembered, and completely fucking destroyed every blue zombie and naked cannibal it came in contact with. I was pretty sure I even saw some green blood. Looking a bit closer, I couldn’t see any pointed ears. There was however more than one soft penis about the thickness of an elf's ears. Don’t ask me why I looked or how I know that.

  More than one of the undead was merely cut in half. Insane screaming came as the upper body slid away from the rest of the animals. Organs spilled and squished onto the floor. These ghouls suffered immeasurable pain, but they were probably the lucky ones. They would die while maimed fellows writhed and pleaded with their blue deity for an end to their tribulations.

  Demonic creatures not killed outright had to stare at their own organs that were vital in the digestion process. It’s beyond understanding to see so many empty and shriveled stomachs. None larger than a peanut, lying among intestines that were bursting at the seams with what looked like chunky chocolate pudding. If these things were starving, how were they crammed full of shit? If all these blunatics had been female, I’d suggest they add more fiber to their diets.

  The Expert’s apparently magic bone crushing broadsword left quite a few naked cannibals with a caved in pelvis, destroyed hips, smashed ribs, and some broken spines. The peevies lying awake but unmoving must have been paralyzed.

  Hammer stepped to the side, gesturing with her elbow for me to come forward. I called to her back. “Come on, Cap! What I did to the first one was bad enough. You really gonna make me torture more of them?” Well, shit. Just then the second wave started coming through the door, tripping over their dead and dying comrades.

  It looks like I was up at bat again.

  ☠☠☠

  The Old Friend watched his own ceaseless blue tide swarming through the interior door from the other side of the building. He readied Lucille while the familiar on his shoulder brandished her tiny blade and hissed through her toothless mouth. The animals had to come through the door, past the corner of the glass counter, and then turn to make their way to the bodybuilder clad in red spandex.

  Slamming the Louisville slugger directly into the nose of the first comer, my former classmate shouted gleefully. “Home run!”

  The baseball bat caved in most of the skull without much resistance. Noses immediately exploded under pressure, driving back into the sinuses. The roof of this peevie’s mouth folded upwards as its teeth rained down. Yellow eyeballs burst when touched with the barbs, sinking in with the rest of the face. Everything in front of the ears pushed violently back into the braincase. The rabid nudist was comatose before it crashed to the hard floor, cracking the other side of the skull like an egg. Bloody grey matter, mucus, saliva, and running feces pooled on the floor below it to form a congealing greyish substance.

  Lucille plowed through a blue throat on the right as a peevie approached Bradley’s left side. Yellow eyes were locked on The Innocent with reckless abandon. She casually waited for the creature to draw close, opening its mouth wide for a scream and a bite. As it came near enough for Mary to reach, she raised her dagger without paying much attention and shot it straight into the zombie’s gaping mouth. Blade sliced through uvula, rupturing tonsils, and jamming into the back of the throat so forcefully, the blood coated tip could be seen protruding from just below the skull.

  Gallons of blood geysered from the oral cavity, ensuring nothing would ever be swallowed in the few short minutes of life the thing had left. It’s stinking bile-like tainted blood sprayed all over Bradley’s tire. I’m glad he was wearing gloves. That’s icky!

  He shattered the kneecap of a revenant as another surged passed its doomed compatriot. The old friend swung his bat further past where he struck his original target. The jagged barbs slammed into the back of the thighs before Bradley yanked upwards. Arterial blood and shit mixed as the peevie bellowed and dropped to its knees.

  Without being ordered, Daredevil’s service monkey hopped to the ground to reach into the maw of the quickly fading demon she dropped. Jerking her bloodied knife free, she stepped over to the creature crying and holding its weeping knee, launching herself onto its shoulder. The carnivorous ape stared at the brutal imp silently. A warning never came as the dagger handle appeared, protruding from the left eyeball. She kept her hand on her tiny sword and rode the beast down to the ground.

  As if I didn’t feel useless enough, she strode over to jam her blade into the back of the re-animant’s skull that was already minutes from blue eternity. As she wrenched her blade free from the leaking brain casing, she glanced in my direction with a gleam in her eye. “What now, bitch?”

  ☠☠☠

  I was so entranced watching the superhero and his unbelievably badass simian sidekick send the scourges to their true deaths, I wasn’t able to assist in the raging battle to my front. Turning my helmeted head, I noticed The Expert was decapitating or penetrating the brains of the few living monsters still screaming on the floor. At least she was ending them quickly!

  Just to let Samus know I can pull my own weight, I rushed over to one of the fallen creatures to put it out of its misery. I slammed my bat’leth between its eyes, driving the blade to the floor on the other side of its skull. Making myself look hard-core, I brought the upper point to me, causing the cranium to burst apart.

  My knees nearly buckled when bloody scrambled eggs and snot rolled out into the space between the halves of the skull. Fuck! Now I get that “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs,” commercial. Except this time it wasn’t drugs. It was a mother fucking Klingon Bat’leth!

  I drew the picture of me doing all the work and the fragile old lady spectating. “It’s okay, Hammer. I got ‘em!”

  The Expert was surely rolling her eye behind the faceplate. “Thank God for you, Elmo.” In response, I grimaced. Where are the delusions now!

  Not one damn zombie came through the front door. If they had any olfactory receptors left and were within a mile, they must have been able to sense the literal metric tons of rotten potting soil and the Sea World-sized swimming pool worth of stinking infected blood. Any blue bystanders in a parking lot could undoubtedly see their dismembered brethren splattered on the glass door and carpeting the floor. Even mindless husks were smart enough to avoid walking into Captain Sledge’s House of Horrors. We could finally fucking relax.

  Over my shoulder, I noticed the incredible duo, separated only by species, now mopping up the last few stragglers coming through their door. The Old Friend lowered The Walking Dead bat to the level of his knees. At just the right moment, he flicked his wrist up to knock against the pelvic bone of a former human. Of course, this pulverized the twig and blueberries on the way. Scrotum basically exploded before penis lodged somewhere above the intestines.

  Mary lifted her dagger in front of her, pointed down. She jumped just over the now stunned peevie, wrapping both feet and hands around the handle and landing perfectly in the center of the skull. She drove the blade on down to the hilt. As yellow eyes rolled back into the monster’s head, she rode the now truly undead to the floor, violently yanked her blade free as she landed. Executing a perfect roll, in the only clean spot on the floor, she somehow did a mid-air somersault, bouncing off the wall to land on her master's shoulder.

  What the fuck? There’s no way she did that. She’s just a monkey! I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it. Aren’t I supposed to be on a higher evolutionary plane than her?

  Looking over at the armored heroine, I propped on my bat’leth. “So... should we go help?”

  She chuckled. “Nah, they’re taking care of business!” We continued taking it easy while watching the horde be decimated.

  ☠☠☠

  Slinging some fifty shades of grey matter from Lucille, Daredevil spoke without looking at us. “Thanks for the help, guys!”

  I laughed. “You didn’t need us. You had that tiny fucking ninja to back you up!”
Conceding the point, he shrugged.

  “Well, I guess that’s all the Ruskies. Let’s grab some ammo!”

  ☠☠☠

  Motherfucker. Are you shitting me? Every damn shelf where ammunition would have been was completely bare. Even the back room was empty of shells. There wasn’t even a damn brick of .22!

  We nearly turned the entire place upside down looking for one bullet. Bradley made his way into the room at the very back of the building; the area set aside for a shooting range. The Old Friend finally found something. “Aha! Here you go, Hammer.” He tossed a .45 ACP magazine to her. “Full mag. Almost.” He glanced over to the body of the man that held the pistol with a now empty well.

  There was no way to know if this was Larry, an employee, or just some random customer. The survivor obviously secured himself in this vault of a room, safe from the peevies. Only later did he discover being secure didn’t mean shit if you didn’t have food. Maybe there was some freeze-dried stuff in the pawn shop.

  The guy didn’t want to risk going out and getting bitten. Or maybe he just didn’t want to go on as one of the last living people on earth. He made himself comfortable on a throne of sandbags, put his 1911 in his mouth, and spoke his last muffled goodbyes. The mummified corpse told us he did this a long time ago. Surely, he wouldn’t have been alive by the time we got here.

  There wasn’t a note, and nothing scratched onto the cement wall. Sealed into this room, his stench was completely blocked off from the zombies. I guess it was just saved for the dumb bastards that first opened the door. Us. Boy, ain’t we fucking lucky!

  Stupefied, I tried to wrap my mind around all the shit we just went through. “Nine rounds of .45? That’s it?”

  Hammer held up a duffel bag nearly bursting at the seams. “I got a bunch of repair kits for the ARs!”