Zombie Paradise Lost: Still Alive Book Six

by Javan Bonds

  Taking a closer look at the ripped apart human laying in a soup of nasty, he noticed they clearly weren't his brother. Though the color was discernible being doused in blood, the hair certainly didn’t belong to Kevin. Long, like a girl’s. Mrs. Ashley? Maybe it wasn’t Libby!

  Trying to shake it off, he attempted not to think about the dead person. There was only one place Kevin could be, in the bedroom behind that door. When he reached the closed door, he could feel the heat radiating off it. Remembering Smokey the Bear telling him “not to touch the doorknob of a room that could be on fire,” he started kicking through the thin door frame. I’m coming to save you, Kevin!

  Waving away the thick smoke, Scooter coughed, eventually making his way to the bed. A curtained, four-poster, he lifted the sheer and glanced in. There was his brother, laying calmly beside his sister-in-law. I found them!

  On his knees, he jumped onto the bed and started making his way to them. “Holy crap, I was so worried! I think I got them all. We can get...” the sentence trailed as he drew on his two last living family members.

  Kevin was unmoving and ghostly pale. There was a weeping hole in his side. When Scooter grabbed his hand, he was cold to the touch. The man leaned over Libby as her eyes started open. “What happened?” Scooter began sobbing. “Did you hurt my brother?”

  Libby Ashley Dunlap was lightheaded from smoke inhalation. Dazedly, she started to protest. “No. I just had him lay down and–“

  “And you killed him in the bed!” Scooter interrupted with an angry statement. He knew what she had done.

  “No Scooter! I just–“

  This time, the interruption came in the form of a broken table leg across the face. Teeth shattered and flew from her now broken jaw. “You killed my brother. It’s your turn, now!”

  She mumbled out a negative response from her bleeding, broken, and swollen mouth. In his rage, the large boy ignored her cries and pleas for him to stop. All he could do was wail uncontrollably as he beat the murderess to death.

  Once he finished punishing the woman he saw as a sister, he sat beside the cold form of Kevin. Holding his brother’s hand, he bawled, completely lost. Kevin was his best friend. There was no reason to leave this room if his brother couldn’t come with him.

  “I’ll stay with you, buddy.” his older brother had always been his protector. Now, Scooter would be watching over Kevin. “I love you, Kevin.” he wept while the black smoke grew thicker, making it hard to breathe.

  ☠☠☠

  A few more crazies tried to get into the house. The initial dozens trickled down and finally stopped altogether. The last peevie approaching didn’t even make it to the yard. Three 5.56 rounds careened into it. Well, at least two of them actually hit it, I have no idea about the third.

  This peevie must not have been to the point of starvation like the rest of them, choosing to keep its distance and discover my location rather than simply bum rush the door. It tried to remain hidden as it slowly crept forward.

  I’m sure it wondered what the hell that big gray thing making all the noise was. Was this one not aware humans often carried projectile weapons?

  Stopping repeatedly behind tree after tree to take cover and peek out, it always did so from the left. As it drew on a tree, I scoped in just to the left of the large pine. Just a few more pounds of pressure on the trigger and the firing pin would be sending a trio of pieces of lead to the point my red dot indicated.

  An emaciated, blue cranium poked from around the tree. The rifle bucked, but I was able to see the effects of my burst in fully magnified glory.

  My initial round sliced through the middle of the chin. Lower jaw separated cleanly, at least for a fraction of a second before blood could start flowing.

  The second shot slammed into the closed teeth. Undoubtedly cavity filled, the tiny pieces of bone exploded before the bullet could drive further into the skull.

  Saliva in the mouth must have been boiling hot for the briefest instance. Could you imagine your own spit cooking your tongue? Tonsils surely simmered while uvula boiled.

  The unbelievable heat couldn’t have registered as the entire brain casing rocketed in all directions like wet confetti. Discerning each individual piece was nearly impossible as fragments of skull became high-speed projectiles. Your guess is as good as mine as to what happened to that third full metal jacket.

  Things became disturbingly still. After years of being around loud, normally airborne vehicles, I learned how to tune out the deafening roar of spinning propellers. Some wouldn’t believe one whose career revolved around jet engines on high-speed rotors could eavesdrop on a whispered conversation hundreds of yards away from inside an AC-130 ready for takeoff, but surprise was a great secret weapon.

  Listening closely, I only detected the breeze blowing across overgrown fields. Lack of bird noises was bothersome. No movement in the house. No more approaching zombies. Nothing.

  Finally, I could make something out in the silence. Crackling, popping. Something on fire? Another moment and I could see thick smoke seeping out from a window on the far side of the house.

  The exact moment I noticed, Devin extended his arm to point where the smoke was coming from. I don’t want to believe he knew the house was burning before it even started, so I just tell myself he just saw a wisp of smoke seconds before I did. It’s how I sleep at night. Alas, he had surely foreseen everything that would happen at least moments before it actually occurred.

  Where were the four people in the house? Where were the peevies? My brain fucking froze up trying to speculate on what could’ve taken place in there. If any of the monsters survived, they sure as hell wouldn’t be taking it easy. If the humans had killed every last revenant, they would doubtfully remain unmoving, even if infected! A headache was coming on while I was trying to decide what I should do. Could the living have snuffed out the unliving with their dying breaths?

  You could bet your ass I wasn’t going in.

  It’s stunning to watch a house burn. Flames engulfed the majority of the residence within moments. Some otherwise abandoned and dilapidated building would not go up is quick. A dry, lived-in house will be swallowed up in no time. This was disheartening. Of the eleven thinking and breathing humans we’d discovered today, not a damn one of them were saved.

  Why were we wasting fuel? Was he just waiting for me to break again and tell him to take us home? I know I’d be dead several times over by now if it wasn’t for him. But he pisses me off. Why does he allow these things to happen? And why does he think he doesn’t have a say? One can decide one’s own fate, but if one knows the ultimate fate of another before the other does, can one make any decisions affecting the other’s fate? I don’t think I can answer such an existential question. At least, not now.

  Nearly weeping, I thumbed in the direction of Guntersville. “Let’s go home.” Before I finished the sentence, Skywalker was already off the ground. Almost a dozen souls lost; in a single day. How much longer could we keep this up?

  30

  The Company Man

  “Isn’t the Lodge at the State Park pretty much in friendly territory?” questioned Stuart as they closed on their targeted search zone.

  No shit, dumbass! I’m not expecting to get jack shit from these time killing trips. The only reason I even have you stupid yokels “scout” is so you’ll bring your tasty little kids with you.

  Brother Brown kept his head facing the road as he drove his truck down the two lane highway. He blinked slowly and spoke, using all the kindness of a guiding shepherd. “Yes, brother. Safety is my top priority. Our Father allows us to take anything initially left, while simultaneously protecting the flock from any danger. It’s a win-win.” The others nodded in agreement with their pastor. Mike was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes.

  ☠☠☠

  None of the others were told they couldn’t bring their kids. I don’t know why these are the only two pieces of meat here for inspection. He smiled as he walked in the direction
of the two girls racing around the playground. Maybe things are happening according to a script. It’s all like it’s supposed to be.

  The Reverend stepped into the sandbox, noticing he sank slightly after yesterday’s drizzle. Though he didn’t speak, the girls were aware of his presence and offered greetings. “Watcha doing, girls?” He questioned the pair, taking a seat on one of the benches.

  A conversation was started and continued, with a fair amount of response from the children. They eventually approached the seated pastor, asking intently about the gathering that was set to take place in the Fellowship Hall after service Sunday night; and of course, what they’d be eating. Discussing the meatiness of chili with the calf before the meal was so exciting he had to cross his legs.

  He was barely able to contain a hungry snarl when a thought surfaced. “Hey! Can you two keep a secret?” As the two girls nodded in agreement, he rose and stepped out of the sandbox. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you two can come over to the house and help me get the meat ready!” Both twins nearly squealed. Brother Brown turned stepping on to the sidewalk. He held out each hand, waiting for the girls to accompany him. Of course, they were eager. Each grabbing one of the proffered limbs.

  From somewhere deep down, he shuddered with anticipation. Oh my God, I love this part just as much as the finale! I’ll shove them into my toolbox. Their idiot father will be riding in my truck with his bound and gagged kids in the fucking back. All he could do was smile, feeling the warmth of the young, tender, trusting hands grasping his.

  Glancing up at the sun before entering the cover of the portico to stand beside his truck, the man of the cloth judged the time of day. “Well, everybody else should be getting ready to leave shortly. The two of you want to go ahead and get in the truck?” At their exciting acceptance, he gestured for them to wait and reached into his pocket. “Want some candy?”

  After just a few minutes, the twins were getting drowsy. Giggling, they both had to sit down on the concrete. Just then, the preacher heard voices approaching. Motherfucker, not yet!

  Turning to raise the lid on one side of the toolbox, he quickly spun back around. “We’re gonna play hide and go seek. You can’t make a sound!” They nodded, doing a bad job of putting on stone-faces.

  Lifting one girl, he didn’t notice that one of her Reeboks flew away and landed near the door. Shoving her quickly into the diamond plated toolbox. He then turned and quickly set eyes on the next girl.

  “Your turn!” As he lifted this one, unbeknownst to The Wolf, the side of the girl's head smacked against the corner of the toolbox. Blood trickled to the pavement as he closed the compartment and locked it with a key.

  ☠☠☠

  Back at the church, the preacher handed Hamric the few supplies that they had scavenged to store in the church food pantry, Hamric attempted to see the good in everything. “Well, that wasn’t a very fruitful trip. Only found a few bottles of cooking oil, couple cans of beans, and a container of dehydrated milk. At least the Lord saw fit to keep us safe during our journey.”

  It sure as hell wasn’t fruitful, you fucking retard. The only reason we went was because I needed to get close to what’s in my toolbox. I’ll be mixing up chili, and you people will be wondering what happened to them. Hell, their fucking dad still thinks they must be waiting back with the other group.

  The preacher jumped down from the bed of the truck after unloading the last of their meager haul. “I need to run to the house. I think I left something turned on at home.”

  Stuart chuckled. “But your wife is with the other group.” No one seemed to catch the joke.

  Finally, Jones waved the supposedly temporary replacement for The Man of God to his truck. “Go on, Brother Brown. You do enough for the community and deserve a break.”

  Mike Brown bowed with almost prostrate humility. “Thank you, brother. I only do what the Lord requires of me.” He brightened and started for the cab. “And if I don’t get to the house, I may require the fire department!” All the men smiled and bid him farewell.

  Driving away from the church and his ignorant herd, he laughed out loud. “They love me. They really love me!”

  Good thing they’re blind.

  Interlude 4

  Again I emerged on the deck a few minutes too late. The roundtable was already chatting with my dad over the radio. Brother Williamson mixed up a batch of trail mix– with extra raisins. I don’t think I have to tell you where I was. Maybe I should start scheduling my daily constitutional earlier so that I can get upstairs on time. But that would require thinking ahead.

  “And then, we’re all standing in the hallway waiting for Landers to finish pissing in the bathroom when we hear a gunshot...” My cousin was telling the assembled crew of this journey to Guntersville.

  Apparently, this is some type of family reunion. I’m surprised Bob wasn’t there because he adds so much to a conversation. And I know Bob isn’t technically family, he’s pretty close though, being one of the only people from The Similar, my parent’s group.

  Easy nodded when he saw me. “He’s here now. What were you telling us about Columbus?”

  My cousin began. “Well, Columbus Air Force Base is probably less than a mile from the Tenn-Tom. You’ll know where to stop because there’s a bright yellow motorboat docked at a little pier directly north of the base. You can’t miss it. If you get off there and walk in a straight line, there’s no way you will miss the place.”

  Thanks, Benji! I don’t know how I’d ever travel in a direct southern route without your guidance. It’s nearly painful when I realized my entire family treats me like one of those guys that almost drown in the bathtub when he was a baby and ends up living with his mother until she dies from old age. Maybe he was giving simplistic instructions because there were going to be women accompanying us on our journey. You know? Because they’re horrible with directions! Yeah, I just went there.

  I looked at my brother stupidly. “Why?”

  He mentally face palmed as if this had already been explained. “Tell Mo why we need to go to Columbus.”

  He held the radio out to me as if an extra arm length would make an idiot like me understand. Benji spoke through the radio after a sigh. “There’s a Hercules on the tarmac loaded with ammo. We just took a small amount of 5.56. There should be more than enough rounds to last you for the rest of your trip to the ocean.”

  I was glad about that, raiding shitty little pawn shops for insignificant amounts of ammo is the opposite of fun. He made sure to add, “Oh, and we clipped the cargo net before we left.” It’s a good thing he explained that. I would’ve thought someone else broke into a plane after the zombie apocalypse and snapped the safety net when they left.

  Does ammunition not get weathered by the elements? I mean, he’s talking like he just left the fucking door open. Spiders could've gotten in there. Oh shit, I better not mention that to Easy! Whether they’re there or not, he’ll see spiders and end up screaming like a girl before balling up into the fetal position. I’m not going to say it wouldn’t freak the shit out of me to have a hairy tarantula crawling up my arm, but he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when there’s a garden spider on the other side of the room!

  My dad sounded. “So y’all have any trouble with your last few locks in Alabama?”

  A few of the crew looked at me and lightly chuckled before I returned. “Nah. Piece of cake.” I paused for a second before another thought came to me. “Oh! How’s everything going with the gentle giant?” Yes, I knew before I said it that my dad wouldn’t get the joke. The nickname for Michael Brown? Please tell me you got that.

  My mother was within hearing distance. Or maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it with others in the vicinity. He hesitated and quickly spoke. “Uh, a pair of twin girls. Yesterday.”

  It was clear that subject wasn’t to be discussed at this very moment. We just got blown off by my dad!

  “Benji has been going out in some of the smaller planes and rescuing s
urvivors.”

  I cut him off before he could go on. “Isn’t there some kind of helicopter plant or something at the Albertville Airport?”

  He responded like he hadn't completely forgotten there was an airport in Albertville. “Yeah. We need to see if we can find a chopper. That will make landings a lot easier.”

  Daddy broke away from the radio. After several seconds, he again spoke. “Benji has already been there. Recovered a Seahawk and attempted a rescue with it.” Well, not everyone with my last name is completely worthless. Just the ones named Elmo.

  He realized our allotted radio time was drawing to a close before any of the crew did. “Well, I figure it’s about time for bed. Let me know how the next few dams go.” Sure we will if we are not all blue and pants-less.

  “Roger. Ironman. Over and out.” I’m guessing my dad fist pumped at even more unneeded proof that Easy was the good son.

  You know, I just realized my mother didn’t say “I love you” to me. Shit, I didn’t even get to speak to her! She probably had a personal conversation with every member of the crew before I got up here. But God forbid if she’s going to come back into the room an acknowledge one of her offspring. I could only be killed by this time tomorrow. I’m thankful my family is so loving.

  31

  Sako’s Journal Three

  Our Humvee was barreling across the causeway, headed back to the island refuge of Guntersville. The three of us just finished another failed search for missing children. There was reason to believe now that they might have been abducted by a snatcher other than the peevies. I, or at least, the people in this truck, only had just been given reason to suspect this. No one else had even an inkling of suspicion that it could be an islander.

  Buzzing, the radio crackled. “Sako?” That Navy pilot, Benji Collins, must have seen the Humvee.

  I leaned forward, placing my chin on the dash and looking up. Benji had been using the MH 60 Seahawk he and his copilot recently acquired to make scouting/rescue missions. Catching sight of the gray whirly bird racing South over the island, I smiled and clicked my radio. “You caught me. What’s up? Over.” Being a military veteran, I was forced to use at least a little proper radio lingo, even though I was out of the habit.