Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  “Fuck.” Jango's face was a mess of black blood and brain matter. Hardy knew his friend of many years was now dead. Dead because of what? Hardy tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened here. Before the medic could get a grasp on the situation, he heard several screams of pain and terror coming from outside the tent. Knowing people would need his help, he grabbed up a small med kit and shrugged it over his shoulder. Looking around he found a heavy, broken table leg that would work perfectly as a club. The screaming outside seemed to grow as Hardy glanced back at Jango's remains. Holding back tears, he quickly ran out of the tent looking to help those he could and also get some payback for the death of his friend.

  HAUNTED HOUSE

  Cockatoo Island

  “Ben, do you really think she wandered this far off?” Anastasia asked, her voice still a little shaky from worry. The two slowly approached the entrance to the tunnels that led beneath the old prison.

  “Probably not,” Ben shrugged, “we looked near the pier without any luck. You said the Aid stations and showers were a no go. Besides the festival area I haven’t a clue where she could have run off to.”

  “Yeah.” Anastasia crossed her arms as she stared into the darkness of the tunnel. “You don’t think she wouldn’t have gone in there, do ya?”

  “Were you two fighting?”

  Ana slowly nodded. “Yes. She was pissed about some shit, like she always is. Being sick sure didn’t help her mood any. For all I know she could be in that damn tunnel sulking.” Anastasia’s voice cracked, as it betrayed her nervousness about her missing girlfriend.

  “Great,” Ben sighed and raised his hands in frustration. Immediately he felt like a dick at his insensitive outburst. “Sorry, Ana, I’m a little worried, too. We can go in the tunnels but we don’t even have a freakin’ torch.”

  “I have matches,” Ana said hopefully, as she pulled a small book of matches out of her shorts pocket.

  “Uh huh. Matches are just as good,” he said sarcastically. “You start smoking again?”

  “Come on, Ben.” Anastasia grabbed his elbow, ignoring his question. “For me?”

  “Crap.” Ben looked around at the abandoned buildings then back at the darkened tunnel entrance. “Isn’t it off limits or some shit?”

  “Ben.”

  “I don’t wanna miss the bloody Festival ‘cause we’re lookin’ for yer pissed off girlfriend.”

  “Ben.” Ana pleaded, as she flashed him her big, beautiful eyes. He could see the worry in them.

  “Ugh. Alright.” He shook his head and gently grabbed the matchbook out of her hand. “Let’s go. Why do I do this shit, Ana?”

  “‘Cause deep inside you love me, and you’d be the biggest prick if you didn’t help.”

  “Bigger than Ryan?”

  “Bigger than Ryan.”

  “Ugh!” Ben rolled his eyes and headed for the tunnel opening. “C’mon!”

  “Why the hell would anyone go in here to sulk anyway? This is the last place I would go.” Ben felt the first match start to burn his fingertips as they entered the darkness of the tunnel. He tossed the worthless match stick to the dirt and rock floor, then sparked another. Ben really hoped they could just turn around; the damned match didn’t offer much light anyway. “She’s probably back at camp by now. I think we should maybe turn back. Ana?”

  “You scared, Bennie boy?” Anastasia hooked her arm through his left one. By the way she latched onto his arm, Ben could tell Anastasia was a little afraid. “This is kinda like one of those amusement park Haunted Houses.”

  “Yeah, no!” Ben tossed the dead match and struck another. His fingertips were definitely burnt. “What you playin’ at, Ana?” Ben liked the feeling of her touch, but she fucking confused and stirred him up all at the same time.

  “Nothing.” Anastasia’s eyes narrowed in the dark as she pulled her arm out of Bens. “Just being a friend, Ben.”

  “Friends don’t screw with other friend’s feelings. Ouch!” Ben tossed the match away and stuck his burnt fingers in his mouth.

  “I’m sorry Ben. I’m just really freaking out over Zoe, you know?” Ana tried to reach out and touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to...”

  “Ana...” Ben pulled away from her, took a step and tripped over something in the darkness.

  “Fuck! Fuck!”

  “Ben!” Ana reached down to where she thought he’d fallen.

  “I’m okay.” Ben let out a frustrated breath then struck a match. The flame flickered and then seemed to illuminate the section of tunnel. “I tripped on…”, he reached underneath him and pulled out a white tennis shoe, “this.”

  “Ben.” Ana grabbed the shoe out of his hand. “‘That’s Zoe’s shoe!”

  “What...?” He quickly stood up and ran the lit match by where he had fallen. Nothing but rocks and dirt. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Ana nodded, staring at the small tennis shoe in her hand. Suddenly it went pitch black. Ben struck another match and moved closer to Ana.

  “There’s blood on it.”

  “That could be paint.”

  “No.” Ana shook her head. “It’s blood.”

  “Crap! We should go to Festival security, or at least grab some torches from camp. Ow!” Ben tossed the burnt match and painfully struck another. Anastasia just stood staring at the shoe.

  “What if she’s hurt, Ben?”

  “Ana, then we need to go get help.”

  “Yes! Yes, we do!” She nodded now, more than a little scared for her girlfriend.

  “Come on.” Ben wrapped his arm around her and steered Anastasia toward the tunnel entrance. “We’ll come right back! I promise!” His voice was a mix of worry and relief of not having to venture any further into the cave. Ben wondered if Anastasia had noticed the foul smell coming from deep inside the tunnel. After finding the bloody shoe he felt like he should keep it to himself, for now. As they hurried out of the man-made cave, something fumbled around in the blackness behind them. What had once been Zoe staggered across the uneven ground. Wearing only one shoe, the hungry, undead girl clumsily followed after Ben and Anastasia. The hunger for human flesh brewed angrily in Zoe’s stomach as she stumbled out of the tunnel and into the daylight. Ben and Anastasia were already gone, but the ‘Zoe thing’ could smell the luscious scent of warm blood and flesh. It was like a tantalizing beacon drawing her to her prey.

  SNOT AND SLOBBER

  Cockatoo Island

  “Ryan!” Joshua shook the front of the others tent. “Hey, Ryan! Wakey, wakey. Hands off snakey!” Getting no reply from inside, he jerked the tent again. A foul smell suddenly rose from inside. Joshua stepped back, putting a hand over his nose.

  “You okay, Big J?” Samantha asked, as she popped a bubble of the ever-present bubble gum. Samantha had only just come up with the nickname, Big J, in fact she was really proud of herself for it.

  “You smell that?” Joshua asked her, hand still over his nose.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, not moving from the lawn chair. “Smells like someone shat themselves.” Pop. “If they don’t wanna wake up, let's get goin’. We already missed Crowded House.” Pop.

  “Just hold on, Sam,” Joshua said, as he glanced back down at the tent. The horrible smell still lingered through the unzipped opening. Joshua could tell someone was still inside when he was shaking the tent back and forth.

  “Come on, Big J!” Samantha whined, popping another gum bubble.

  “Hold on,” Joshua said, a little irritated. If she called him Big J one more time he’d flip out.

  “Ryan?” Joshua bent down and pushed open the zippered tent flaps, this time the smell was thick and cloying. Joshua almost fell backwards choking at the horrible odour. The young Maori instantly recognised it as the scent of death. Against his better judgement and trying to keep his gag reflex in check, Joshua nervously peered inside.

  “Oh fuck!” He quickly stumbled out of the tent and started to gag. “Oh fuck!”

  “Joshua?” Samantha stood up
and hurried over to where her boyfriend lay on his side, trying to catch his breath. “Joshua?”

  “Sam...” He held up a hand to keep her away. “Just stay there!” Joshua rolled to his feet and wiped some drool away from his lips. The scantily clad girl could see the colour had drained from the Maori’s face. “Stay… Stay back.”

  “What’s wrong?” She stopped a few feet away from him. “You look pale as a ghost.”

  “J-just stay there.” He sputtered as he turned his back to her and stared down at Ryan’s tent.

  “Joshua, what’s happened?”

  “Sam,” Joshua slowly turned to face her. She could see the fear and horror in his tear stained eyes. “R- Ryan’s dead!”

  “What?”

  “He’s dead! His fucking head is gone!” Joshua dropped to his knees and put his hands to his face, crying. “There was blood everywhere, his neck…”

  “No! It can’t be!” Samantha grabbed Joshua by the shoulders.

  “It’s horrible,” he sobbed. “Blood just everywhere. Ryan’s head was missin’. He was torn to shreds. I could see his fuckin’ vertebrae stickin’ out! His intestines were outside of him!” He stopped to again catch his breath and try not to vomit.

  “What about Emma?”

  “I- I didn’t see Emma!”

  “You think she did it?” Samantha asked salaciously, as she looked back at the tent.

  “It was horrible.” Joshua looked up at his girlfriend. Snot and slobber were now flowing freely from his face. The sight almost made Samantha gag. It was at this point she was pretty sure the festival was a no go and she was going to have to find another boyfriend.

  “We have to get help!” Joshua wiped his tear and mucus covered face with his forearm and stood up.

  “Then can we go to the festival?”

  “’Fuck is wrong with you?” Joshua stepped away from her, unable to grasp her callousness. “We need to go get help!”

  “But he’s dead J. There’s nothing we can do for him.”

  “Fuck off!” Joshua shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. “My mate is dead and his girl missing and you wanna blow it off for a fucking show? You’re fucking unbelievable, aren’t ya?” He dropped heavily into a lawn chair and put his head in his hands, uncontrollably sobbing.

  “After we tell security, luv. We can go then?” She popped another bubble and embarrassed, tried not to stare. “After?”

  “After?” Joshua looked up, red-eyed, tears streaking his cheeks. He leaned over and shoved a big finger in her gum popping face. “Fuck off, Sam! Take your gum and shove it up that ass! My friend’s dead!” Joshua jumped up and started to stalk off toward the security office. The big Maori was still cursing and shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Well fuck you, J!” She shouted back. “You’re nothing but a limp dicked twat anyway! I’ll find my own way home, ya prick!”

  HEAD AND CIGARETTES

  Cockatoo Island

  If Rosie was still alive, she’d hate the fact that her designer heels were broken and ripped to shreds due to her dragging them across the multiple surfaces of the festival areas. Still clad in her stained and torn Kate Spade dress, the thing that was once Rosie stumbled over toward the festival stage. A bouncer stood watching the far backstage entrance for any concert goers that wanted to sneak inside and get a peek at the acts, or actually reach out and touch them. Bored, and running a hand through his dirty mullet, the security man had just finished his second pack of cigarettes and was watching Rosie stagger his way. Davey Gollihar had spent thousands of hours in his folk’s basement playing Guitar Hero and hoping for that one big break. Standing here behind the stage, guarding a door and listening to 80’s bands definitely wasn’t it.

  He’d read some fucking roadies’ book, or “memoirs” as it said on the jacket cover, and thought it sounded like a helluva good time, full of arse and drugs. Well, the only arse he’d seen was the arse cracks of his fellow roadies. The drugs, well they were there but you had to pay for them. Right now, Davey thought the guy who wrote the book was full of shit. Right now, he’d rather be back home in his mum’s stinking basement playing Guitar Hero or fucking with his mates on Fortnite. Watching as a drunk middle-aged groupie stumbled toward him wasn’t as fun as you’d think it would be.

  “Hey!” Davey shouted, as Mental as Anything’s, “I didn’t mean to be mean!” erupted from the band on stage. “This way is closed, luv. The beer garden’s back where ya came from, maybe ya should go back there.”

  The raggedy woman continued her drunken walk toward the mullet wearing bouncer. The thin man shook his head, annoyed that now he was going to have to do something. The only reason Davey took this job guarding the exit was because of its lack of traffic. Maybe he could get some head or at least a cigarette from some old gal wanting to meet the band. Stepping her way, he put out his tobacco stained hands to stop her. Davey had actually never had to resort to any sort of violence for any reason in his short life. He wasn’t really even sure how to stop the odd, old lady that was still headed his direction. Letting out a loud sigh of annoyance, Davey shook his head, raising his voice he again shouted at her.

  “No, luv! You don’t belong here. Staff only!” That was the exact moment he noticed the smell. “Damn, lady! You crap yourself? I mean some of the guys are into that.” He chuckled to himself, then Davey saw how fucked up Rosie really was. Blood-stained, torn dress and her eyes were a strange milky white.

  “Fuck, lady! What’s wrong with you?” Davey took a nervous step backwards. Rosie quickly made an awkward swipe at the roadie. The dead woman somehow succeeded in grabbing his right hand and jerking him toward her.

  “Hey!” Davey screamed, his voice going up several octaves as he tried to pull his hand from her tight grip. Jagged teeth suddenly chomped down on his fingers. Bones crunching, blood spurting, Davey wailed uncontrollably as he painfully yanked the remains of his hand out of her mouth, her jagged teeth ripped the flesh of his hand as he did so. Sobbing and cradling his bleeding and destroyed hand, the young man spun around and stumbled for the stage door. Davey’s shoulder slammed hard into the unmoving door, tripping him up and causing him to fall to his knees. In excruciating pain and shock, Davey reached up with his good hand and fumbled around for the door handle. Blood spurted from the roadies’ destroyed right hand, as he frantically struggled to find a way to open the door. The pain and blood loss were almost too much for him to take. As the Rosie creature staggered in his direction, Davey weakly kicked his legs at her in a futile attempt to keep the creature at bay.

  “Keep back you…bitch!” Davey spat. Rosie continued to hungrily move in his direction, neither caring nor understanding his words. Using the last of his strength, Davey pulled himself up and turned to open the stage door, his only route of escape from the flesh-eating monster. Letting out an ungodly scream, the Rosie thing fell on Davey’s back, driving them both through the doorway and onto the stage behind it.

  I AIN'T GOING

  Cockatoo Island Security Office

  “Are you bloody kidding me?” Arton Wells growled into his walkie.

  “No, it’s a fucking madhouse down there!” Stella’s voice sounded worried and frightened. “The whole area near the shitters has gone crazy!”

  “Fuck!” Arton let go of the talk button and glanced over at Ego, the only other security man in the office. All his other staff were already trying to put out the growing ‘fires’ that were spreading throughout the island. “Ego, get over to the public toilets and see what’s going on!”

  “Okay.” The long-haired rookie nodded as he grabbed up his gear and hurried out the door. Arton clicked on the talk button of his walkie and spoke.

  “Ego is on his way.” The security chief released the button.

  “The new guy? Chief we need more people down there. There’s a lot of shit happening all over. The Aid stations are all fucked up!”

  “Then send Mark and Ray! I’ll deal with the Aid tents!”

 
“Mark ain’t doin’ too good. He’s passed out.”

  “Shit! Send Ray then!” Arton said into the walkie.

  “Copy that!”

  “I ain’t going! I don’t make enough to get fucked up! This whole place is fucked!” Ray could be heard in the background over his walkie.