Zombie Paradise Lost: Still Alive Book Six

by Javan Bonds

  “Oh thank God! We’ll be able to fix our guns we can’t even fucking use because we don’t have ammo.”

  Samus shrugged. “Well, it’s better than nothing. Pretty good haul. Let’s go home!”

  Sadly shaking my head, I mumbled under my breath. “Good God. What the hell is wrong with these people?”

  28

  Joyous

  Silent. Hidden. Undetected.

  That was the female’s attempted goal each time it closely followed the pale ones every time they left the floating construct. This cycle, there were three. No, there were four! The tiny, hairy one resting on the shoulder of the short, squat one was different but the same. They remained completely unaware of their shadow. It was surprising they weren’t able to smell danger, being in such proximity.

  One of the two shelled creatures carried something that held other things.

  What was this? Where did it come from? And where were they taking it?

  Knowing there would be no opportunity to strike, just as every other time the pale ones were exposed in any form, the peevie grew accustomed to studying the tasty animals. The large, misshapen log was full of some strange items. It was just as perplexing as most of what the animals did.

  It was extremely frustrating not to have a chance at getting just a small taste. Even though the creatures coming away from the construct were usually not the targeted, smooth-headed beast, the bounty of one close to it would be somewhat satisfactory. Knowing Ezekiel Collins would be feeling loss was exciting beyond just the imagining of a full meal.

  Ripping the throat from one of these pale ones would be perfect! It would slowly suffocate, using the last few minutes of life to fight in vain. Dark crimson would flow as it slowly grew weak and eventually sank to the ground in defeat. After losing consciousness, the peevie formerly known as Warden Slice would dig into the chest and search for the beating heart before it went still. Taking a bite from that which was still living would be almost as joyous as listening to the screams of the target.

  These delectable thoughts made the female’s mouth water. It also created a burning inside that was not the pain between the legs that comes once every full night orb. Soon, dreams of devouring the target, Ezekiel Collins, would come to fruition!

  29

  Memoirs of Benji Three

  My copilot Devin Landers, in his Ghost Rider attire, laid his entire weight on the yolk. Our Jedi whirly bird, Skywalker, was pushing the abilities of its MH 60 Seahawk engine to the brink. I was outfitted as Indiana Jones, and our two new compatriots, brothers, Kevin and Scooter Dunlap willed the frame forward through the air.

  Peevies in the area had been riled up. Which meant no one on the ground was safe now. Their companion Colin along with the two brothers had set out that morning with plans to drain, or at least find another way to access the nearby Lattiwood water tower for a reliable source of clean water. His wife, teenage daughter Mary Ann, and Libby were all waiting at home for the returning conquerors.

  Well, not so much the conquerors. Colin was dead, well, that was the only way I can think of him without being sick.

  Their plans had been dashed upon the rocks. Revenants had spotted them and started assaulting the three humans on the tower. The monsters would’ve had three new trophies if not for a duo of Naval Flight Officers (NFO) swooping in to save the day. Two of the trophies had been snatched from the blue jaws of the peevies. Now, we were on our way to secure two more humans. I was hoping our luck would hold out.

  Colin’s home was less than a mile from the Lattiwood tank. As the crow– or in this case– as the Skywalker flies. Being in close proximity to such a horrific battle scene and a legion of peevies meant those survivors were likely to be discovered. Why would the living people not have been found earlier, you ask? I have the same question, probably because it wouldn’t have culminated into such a climactic scene. Or to use another clichè: out of sight, out of mind.

  I’m as thankful now as I was then. This particular trip had been taken without my girl, Amy. I’ll credit Devin for keeping this blood-drenched day off her calendar. The losses of The Crossroads Mall had been devastating for her whether she was willing to admit it or not. Witnessing more despicable acts of brutality and evil from the yellow-eyed spawns of hell would have only been salt in the wounds. There is plenty bad shit going around for everyone to grow used to it. Sometimes, I think those of us that have survived the apocalypse have grown accustomed to loss and death.

  As fate would have it, my arrival at Kmart had a seemingly scripted quality. It saved her from meeting a torturous death at the hands of a cruel, twisted barbarian. So that's good. The script also demanded I not be able to save her mother and sister; who were living just before I got there. Even more reason that she didn’t need to be exposed to the shit we saw today.

  Of course, she'd tell you she wasn’t fragile and didn’t need protecting. She could handle all this and more. Well, okay then, maybe. Contrary to popular belief, however, chivalry is not dead. I will spare the one I love any tragic circumstances if at all possible. She can pay me back later by driving me to counseling.

  ☠☠☠

  “Mrs. Ashley. She don’t know what’s coming.” Scooter mumbled, gazing to our destination. He was looking at a small brick house being encroached upon by a wave of blue. The peevies had been stirred up, and they didn’t have trouble smelling fresh meat.

  I was stupefied. “You didn’t have a radio?”

  Scooter dazedly shook his head in the negative. His brother, Kevin, answered for him. “Well, we did in the truck. Colin didn’t have time to grab it.”

  My eyebrows rose. I spoke to Kevin through the headset, turning to fiddle with the controls on the dash. “Channel? There might still be time!” Setting the equipment to the frequency he indicated, I paused.

  I spoke the first thing that came to mind. “CQ, CQ!”

  After a beat, a female voice came back. “Uh, who is this?”

  I spit out the fastest introduction possible. “Benjamin Collins. Formally with the U.S. Navy. In route to your location in helicopter. Immediate evac required.”

  The same female spoke. She at least understood basic abbreviations. “I hear you coming. Why do we need to leave?”

  She couldn’t see what we could. The blue demons were surging in their direction at nearly the same speed as our chopper.

  It was like a scene from some horrific movie. Emaciated, naked blue monsters writhed and swelled over one another, seeming to be pushed onward by an invisible hand. Like a blue tidal wave of inhuman flesh hell bent on washing away human kind.

  Regardless of where they all had come from, it was easy to see their destination; a small house less than a mile away. How were they moving at such breakneck speeds? A continuous and animalistic, shrieking-roar was almost deafening. Their unquenchable anticipation of delving deeper into the bottomless well of their satiation drove them forward; ever reaching toward new heights of depravity.

  The diseased, filthy mass pulsed from the water tower as if they had a marker on their HUD. Remember those stories about Genghis Khan and the Mongolian horde over a thousand years ago? No animal could've survived being caught in front of this stampeding force. Expectantly, a dark haze hung heavy in the air following the swarm. I was actually surprised to see bark still on most of the trees!

  ☠☠☠

  The helicopter's skids slammed into the earth with the force of a high-powered rifle. It was surprising the impact didn’t warp the frame of the entire chopper. Two women heads down raced from the carport. I could see there was one pistol between them. Things like that make me shake my head and sigh. How the hell do unprepared people survive even in a world that wasn’t blue, and covered in shit?

  Then it happened. Some teacup, miniature, dwarf, rat-dog bounded out of the girl’s arm and hurriedly ran back into the house.

  “Sergeant Peppers!” Reading her terrified scream was easy. Libby bolted for the darkened doorway after the tiny nuisance. Peevies
were charging madly down the hill, only a few hundred yards away. Are you surprised? As expected, the mother hen followed her chick home.

  Throughout my life, I’ve had more than one dog. The comradeship between owner and dog is insanely intense. I loved those canines more than most humans and would have done nearly anything for them. But shit, I didn’t carry around a helpless little noisemaker, that always needed defending. Zombies would have been running away from my dog!

  As Mary Ann turned to go after her daughter, I almost spun to my copilot. “Fuck it! You know how this goes. Let’s just go home.” But I didn’t. Even though it almost made me weep to do it, I stayed in position to helplessly defend more doomed Americans. On one knee, I watched as the horde closed.

  Emptying a magazine of 5.56 into the surging zombies, I reached for another mag, fully expecting Kevin to pick up the other carbine and assist. It hadn’t dawned on me what his next move would be. Before I could look up, the young man was on the ground, foolishly going to the aid of Mary Ann and Libby. He could’ve at least picked up the damn M4! Good thing he had his little .22 rifle over his shoulder—because that thing was going to do him so much damn good.

  What seemed like several lifetimes before, but had only been a flash between Colin’s home and the water tower. Kevin Dunlap took the opportunity and told me of the romance between him and Libby Ashley. They had been an item before things started “going blue.” When May Day happened, they were thrown together, and they remained inseparable. Fate had seen their love grow at a ridiculously high speed. They were now, for all intents and purposes, married. The two of them were trying, in spite of the apocalypse, to continue the human race. The love of his life was with child and in danger, and he couldn’t think about anything except getting to her. My screams at his back went completely unnoticed.

  Scooter, Kevin’s large, simpleton brother continued sitting on the bench; hands crossed over his lap. He just stared blankly after his sibling. Waving my arm in front of him several times, I finally got his attention. Questioningly, he looked down at me. I jammed a finger at the spare M4 on the deck. Of course, he violently shook his head in the negative. Was he afraid to use it? Or did he really not know how to point the muzzle and squeeze the trigger?

  After a long sigh, I picked up the carbine and started dually slamming blunatics with automatic bursts. Pieces of lead punched lines like ragged notebook holes in random intervals through the front lines. Dark puffs shot forth as an equally dark, oily residue was expelled in the other direction. It was doubtful the tiny bullets killed most of the undead in the second row and beyond, but I was able to take some twisted sense of pride in at least injuring them.

  Some of the discharged feces undoubtedly found its way into a few of the open wounds. Assuredly, this would lead to infection, and they would hopefully die a disgusting and torturous death. Festering and rotting decay was the slow road to the blue infinity, or so I imagined for these evil motherfuckers. The equivalent of gangrene was too quick and easy for these demonic scourges.

  Dozens upon dozens were put down only to be replaced instantaneously. Bodies of the dead or injured peevies were simply pushed aside or trampled into the ground by the oncoming horde; not even given a second thought. It was sickening just how much they didn’t seem to care about their fellows. The prize of human flesh came above all else. Animalistic hunger outweighed any former humanity. Or even a basic need for safety.

  There had to be a fire in my eyes. You couldn’t really call me conscious; I was just killing peevies with reckless abandon. Taking aim and squeezing the trigger? Hell no! I was throwing so much hollow point lead at the approaching ghouls that I don’t even remember Devin calling my name. Had he been using the headset, or just screaming? Actually, he might’ve done neither, knowing it would do no good. That is until he thumped something at me.

  Embarrassed he caught me; I had no idea if I had been laughing, crying, or a mixture of both. Facing my best friend, I attempted to appear blank and emotionless. Looking back, I realized there was no point. He undoubtedly knew precisely how I felt.

  “What?” I questioned through the microphone.

  Without speaking, he merely pointed to the house door under the carport. My gaze followed his finger, and I cried out exasperatedly. “Fuck, not again!”

  It took me a moment to notice what he flicked at me to get my attention. Now, a scarred quarter lay at my feet. Do I really need to tell you which side was facing up?

  ☠☠☠

  Kevin Dunlap wasn’t what you would call a strapping young man. His peers always considered him small, scrawny, and he had often been called weak. Having just graduated high school last year, Kevin received a scholarship for his vocal abilities. Never one for football or any sport, he was a star in choral.

  Years ago, he had fallen for Libby Ashley. The high school sweethearts had been going steady since his freshman year and had planned to marry after she graduated the next year. They had dreamed of children and a long future.

  That all changed on May Day. Just surviving until tomorrow was a struggle. Living for, and keeping each other alive was all that was important. Plans no longer stretched into the distant future, only to tomorrow.

  Without any ceremony or legally binding contract, Colin and Mary Ann witnessed them marry. They swore to be together forever. Nothing could keep them apart. Kevin would make sure he was with Libby until the end.

  He could see what was happening. His wife and mother-in-law were trying in vain to keep the raving monsters from breaking down the door. They did a pretty good job of barricading the windows. It was just strange the peevies knew the doors of buildings were weak points. Did they have some knowledge of structural integrity from their past lives? How could a wild animal know the function of a doorknob? Regardless of how, but they seemed to know most exterior doors pushed inwards.

  A dozen yards away, he began shouting. “Hey! Over here, you ugly smurfs!”

  They turned as one, making him their sole target. Dunlap pulled his little .22 from over his shoulder. Every shot would have to count. The small rifle started popping. Merely irritating the enraged nudists. Before they could lunge at the ill-prepared teen, my high velocity rounds began peppering into them.

  ☠☠☠

  The rounds coming from Skywalker may have offered some protection while Kevin was out in the open. Regardless, the Blunatics paid absolutely no intention to me. Instead, they focused on the three warm bodies with hardly any defenses. The boy had somehow worked his way around the peevies and was safely out of my line of fire. Giving my weapon a break to reload, he got his back to the door and started shooting, or knocking them away with his rifle butt. Sure, they were protected by the house on three sides, but barricades could be destroyed by hand much easier than full metal jackets.

  Would you rather: run the gauntlet of automatic bursts; or charge face first into hot lead? Yeah, the zombies might have been stupid most of the time, but they could use their primal brains when it came to food. They know enough that if they can't get to the food, they can't eat the food.

  The boy with the .22 rifle sent multiple rounds at the beasts while backing inside the house. Though most of his shots only wounded the peevies, one of them did drop. He must’ve caught it in the eyeball or some other weak spot in the skull. It went rigid and then violently shot a stream of black foam from its asshole before falling over to its left.

  Standing in front of the women, Kevin was on the top step, nearly ready to back into the house and shut the door. There were only a few feet between him and the peevies. I took the opportunity to open up on his closest attackers. They were going to pay dearly for any ground they gained.

  The first recipient of a 5.56 took the initial round just below the left ass cheek. Thigh muscle exploded all the way around the bone, unwrapping like a sloppy filet mignon. Surely, the femoral artery ruptured before the blue testicles popped like overripe, miniature tomatoes. The insignificant penis vaporized under violent pressure.

&n
bsp; My next round caught the thing square in the asshole. For the briefest of instances, one could picture a blue Tara Reid before the round erupted from the upper pelvic bone. What was left of the urinary tract was grotesquely severed.

  If these two rounds weren’t enough, a final bullet drove into the lower back. It punctured the kidney before the rest of the digestive organs ripped to shreds. Baby diarrhea and thick blood mixed on the ground in front of it as it toppled to its knees. Its Pain had to be excruciating at least until blood loss robbed it of consciousness.

  Miraculously, three peevies dropped with the next burst. I didn’t see the skulls or chests of any of them explode, but the trio toppled over forward. Now the corpses were unmoving except for final dark bubblings from spasming anuses.

  Kevin was able to make it inside and slammed the door. The three within were surely piling objects against the entrances, attempting to slow the nudist cannibals. The seemingly limitless number of undead crammed themselves into the confines of the small carport. Tendrils of black slime clung to the car and every other surface they climbed over.

  Even without the heavy thudding of helicopter blades, I doubtfully would have been able to make much out over the animalistic howls, barks, and strange chittering of the peevies. Wood splintering was not audible, but clearly visible as chips of the door began flying above the zombies’ heads. Of course, the door was made of wood, though, metal wouldn’t have made much difference. Then it would be flying shards of metal; no thanks.

  Fate was a twisted sumbitch.

  The question must be asked. Why was the wood being chipped? How was the wood being chipped? Were they using tools? Thank God there was no electricity; they probably would’ve been using fucking power saws! Assuredly, they were using some simple bludgeoning devices. Still, that’s a huge evolutionary leap for animals that get erections over dill pickles.