Still Alive (Book 7): Zombie Perdition

by Bonds, Javan

  Okay, I take that one back. Things didn’t become over sized; the kiddy pool just became the fucking ocean. Like a Barbie Doll house got shot with the reverse of the Honey, I Shrunk the Kids! laser. Good thing we wouldn’t have to deal with any eighties special-effects. Or giant ants.

  “So where’s the control room?” In response, Gene pointed to a door about half a mile down the hallway to our front and left. Clearly, this building was compact compared to most river lock centers. No wasted space!

  “Really? I’m not walking down a darkened hallway for a fucking hour just so she can push a damn button. I’m calling Easy to do it.” I started reaching for my radio.

  Grumbling, I’m pretty sure I picked up The Tech’s insult. “Ugly bag of mostly water.” With a smirk, he tossed a glow rod to land a few yards from our destination. He just destroyed my only excuse not to walk even further. I’m not asthmatic or anything, my laziness is a choice. It’s a life decision.

  Turning my helmeted head, I gave him the stink eye he couldn’t see. “Fuck you.” At that, he started triumphantly marching in the direction of the green light. Shoulders slumped, I followed with a sigh.

  ☠☠☠

  About three quarters of the way to the door with a “LOCK CONTROLS” sign hanging conveniently overhead, we stopped at a door marked “UNISEX RESTROOM.” I said a door, but it could have been the only other fucking door leading from the dam hallway. I don’t remember seeing the entrance to one other damn room on our cross-country trek. And it just hit me, I needed to piss. Don’t ask me why I didn’t just pee in the damn corner. I chose to enter a completely unlit room. Because I’m smart!

  Gene thankfully chose to crack another glow rod. “I also need to excrete waste fluid.” Well, if he ever said anything sexy before, that was the complete fucking opposite.

  Taking position in front of one of the urinals on the wall, I reached down. Clank! “Oh fuck.” It just now hit me I was wearing armor. “What do I do now?” I could picture having to strip the armor off; barely getting out before I pissed myself.

  “Watch and learn, young padawan.” The comic bookstore owner raised a finger. With his other hand, he reached down and pulled on his crotch. One side came free, allowing it to swing. Velcro? Interesting. And yes, I was also relieved he was wearing underwear.

  “Mine does the same thing?” I questioned as I tugged on the hatch. Now I would just have to fight with the damn body condom to find the fly.

  Hold up. I thought these suits of armor were not only bulletproof but waterproof and all that shit. The fly is Velcro! How the hell does that work? Do they make airtight Velcro? Ah... will of The Screenwriter and all that bullshit. Not my place to question.

  The Tech started a conversation as we both looked straight ahead. There was a bunch of garbled noise coming from his mouth. I wasn’t able to pick it up, just knew that he was speaking.

  Stopping and waiting for a response, he got nothing. Trying again with what I assume was a question, he again received silence. The third time wasn’t the charm. I remained completely unmoving at his next utterance.

  Screeching was his next attempt. “Mo!”

  The yellow river stopped flowing. “What the fuck do you want Gene?

  He seemed irritated that I wasn’t conversational. “I said...do you think we’ll have to deal with any peevies when we get to Columbus Air Force Base?”

  Guaranteed, I was more irritated. “Sure. Now shut the fuck up.” Holding back tears, I began to relax in the silence.

  “What if...” he started again.

  Only a trickle started before I was once more interrupted. “Fucking stop!”

  A few seconds of blessed peace went by. I started to become less tense. It was about to happen. I was so relieved and grateful.

  Before things could start moving, he opened his fucking mouth. Tilting his head, he was obviously listening. “But I don’t hear anything.”

  “Jesus Christ, Gene. Give me a minute of peace!”

  Maybe it’s a disorder... no clue. For my entire life, I’ve not been able to carry on a conversation while I’m in the middle of peeing. Not just that I can’t talk, I can’t even listen! Because of this, I normally go in the stall just in case my neighbor at the urinal were to be one of those damn friendly sumbitches that wanted to find out how every member of my extended family was getting along.

  Perhaps some would find it creepy that a healthy, adult male would rather stand in front of the toilet than save some time and go to the urinal. No, I’m not jerking off in the Walmart bathroom! I just want some privacy. It’s not even a want, it’s a need.

  There’s one thing worse than those guys that like to chat while standing at the urinal. It’s rare, but you might stumble upon a dude who likes to have a come to Jesus meeting while sitting on the throne. He’s not really a diamond in the rough. But you could call him a something in the something. On more than one occasion, I’ve had the misfortune of meeting one of these bastards.

  I couldn’t even tell you where I was... Walmart... Burger King... maybe the Dollar Tree purchasing baby wipes. Anyway, the last time I ran into one of these guys that talked while shitting... shit talkers... It was one of those awkward moments that you can’t get out of your mind. Well, at least I can’t. And because of that, you know I’m going to detail it here. That way, you won’t be able to wash it from your brain, either!

  ☠☠☠

  Standing in the handicap stall, I was reveling in the silence. Though there was a memorable event in which I was in a similar position in a public bathroom, this time I wasn’t in danger of being chafed... or beheaded. And yes, if a dude in a wheelchair came to the door and said he had to shit, I would have no problem stepping into the other stall. Admittedly, it would be kind of a buzzkill to cut the flow midstream, but I’d gladly step aside to provide for the less fortunate... or disabled... whatever.

  Even with no noise being made anywhere in the store when the door opens, you can usually tell when company has arrived in a public bathroom. Shoes squeaking on the tile, zippers being undone, rustling of clothes, the general sounds of a living person. Apparently, Cupid wearing fucking ninja moccasins and a kilt took a seat in the stall beside me. Good thing I was already standing in front of the toilet with my pecker in my hands. My neighbor’s noxious geyser blaring would’ve scared the piss out of me. The guy must’ve eaten his weight in bean burritos at Taco Bell.

  As disturbed as I was, I choked down a scream and continued with the task at hand. Out of nowhere, he began speaking loudly. Of course, I ignored him, assuming he was on the phone or something. Which is almost as annoying as the people that begin a conversation with you in the bathroom. You’re taking a dump, not at your desk. Be quiet! Well, he certainly wasn’t quiet... beyond the fact he was jabbering.

  “So what do you think?” Abruptly, there was a knocking on the wall between us.

  I painfully came to a halt. “Uh... what?”

  Like I’d been following his entire damn lecture, he sighed. “Gas prices have gone up fourteen cents in less than a week. The stock market is about to bust. Our economy is being propped up. It’s all gonna crash!”

  We were in a fucking bathroom, not a political science study hall. This wasn’t the setting for the subject. “I know what you’re saying.” or something close to it was what I mumbled out before shifting my concentration back to the priority.

  Trying not to pay attention to the bothersome idiot on the other side of the plastic barrier, I picked up scattered words. “Nazi base on the moon... chem trails... modern vaccinations causing autism... shooter on the grassy knoll.” The dude was a fucking nut! And the toxic brine he was mixing up made the air feel sticky.

  Because I was afraid of passing out if I opened my mouth, I chose not to speak. All I could do was whimper in my suffering, mouth closed. Clearly, it was audible to the man destroying the toilet a few feet away.

  “Aww, am I offending you? Are all these inconvenient truths making your little pussy bleed?
Fucking snowflake!” The entire time the guy was talking, he had been straining. Each sentence was followed by more than one wet slap and exhalation of relief. He was still shitting!

  At least twice my bodyweight had to be floating in that commode. For a second, I thought he was going to defile the other stall. The door slammed open and he huffed. “I guess you just can’t handle the truth. Enjoy a shitty present for a shitty person, teabagger!” he said as he rushed out the door.

  What the fuck just happened? I just got cussed at for having a political stance I don’t even have, simply for not talking. All while my olfactory system was being molested by what I would compare to demon’s breath after a night at Olive Garden!

  Wait a minute... “snowflake... teabagger..?” Was that why he was yelling? I don’t even know what his political stance was. Or what mine would be compared to it. Not that I would really give a shit anyway.

  And no, he didn’t wash his hands. Not only that, I don’t think there was even time for him to wipe. Of course I didn’t, but I had this strange urge to go look in the stall he just vacated to see what type of creature remained. Swamp thing? Loch Ness monster?

  Unfortunately, I never even saw the guy. If I did, I would’ve walked around the store trying to find him, just so I could see if he had poopy pants. Alas, I would never get to find the mystery shitter. Though I could search, I’d never discover the rapist of oxygen that violated my privacy and mean-mouthed me that day!

  ☠☠☠

  After what seemed like a few more hours, I finally relaxed enough to void my bladder. Putting everything back into its place, I closed the shuttle bay doors and started making my way out the bathroom. Obviously, Gene finished a long time ago and had already returned to the hallway. You know, because it was quiet. Like every time I go take a leak, I walked right past the sinks and didn’t flush, just like Mr. Shit Talker. As if they would’ve worked anyway.

  Why did I go to the urinal to begin with if I knew what can happen with someone standing beside me, you ask? Fuck if I know. Could’ve just been in such a hurry to witness nudity that would scar me for the rest of my life. I could tell you I hate it, but if I willingly put myself in places where it would be repeated, you know I have to have some kind of deep, dark, secret fetish. Or maybe I’m just a fucking idiot.

  Before making it to the exit, The Tech barged in. “You done yet? I thought you might’ve fallen asleep.”

  Remembering a guy who actually weighs less than I do nearly had me sobbing, I raised a finger. “Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone about this!”

  The Paladin cocked his head. “About what?”

  Because he didn’t know the history behind my rule of silence when taking a piss, he didn’t understand the stress he put me under or the years he had taken off my life. Also, since I was wearing a helmet, he hadn’t seen the tears rolling down my cheeks. I coughed. “Nothing. Let’s get going!” Yeah, I know I’m smooth as ice.

  ☠☠☠.

  “Not sure this could have been any more boring.” I looked from the entrance of the control room back down to the front door of the building. We had seen no action today.

  Clicking her tongue, Aka sighed as she pushed through the door, “Are you really complaining about not having to work?”

  I nodded, “Yes, yes I am. I only want something if I don’t have it. Once I get it, I normally don’t want it. It’s the circle of life.” In response, she only exhaled.

  As she walked closer to the controls, she let out a squeaking squeal. The Brotherhood of Steel Paladin clenched fists and charged into the room. You can bet the Cylon took his damn sweet time catching up. In hindsight, it probably would’ve been a good idea to clear the fucking room before our sole dam technician entered an enclosure that could’ve been a peevie hive. The fact we hadn’t smelled shit one time today could probably be blamed for our laxness.

  She raised a hand. “It’s okay, guys, Just a suicide.”

  The skeletal remains sat in the chair, head on the desk. Being protective bodyguards, we walked closer, inspecting the corpse. Some kind of large, silver revolver was wrapped in the bony grip. Dried blood covered the desk around the broken brain casing. An unusual sight for those of us that didn’t experience much of the initial outbreak.

  Gene reached around to the front chest pocket and read the name tag, “Bob.”

  Guess we’d never find out the details of Bob’s untimely demise. Had he been infected and simply knew what was going to happen? Maybe his entire family had been bitten and he wanted to be with them. They could’ve even been killed by the peevies in some gruesome way... all while he was on a FaceTime call with them. That’s a great mental movie right there! Shit, perhaps Mr. Bob was just a nihilist that saw nothing left in this world. His story will forever be a mystery.

  Sighing, The Tech reached for his pistol. “We should at least take his ammo.” It all happened within a few seconds but will take a long time to explain.

  Lifting the hand, Gene uncurled the finger bones from around the grip. When he did this, the hand fell away onto the desk. As the arm slid to the edge, it caught the corner of a closed lunchbox and started pulling it with it. Before merely falling off the counter, the lunch pail tipped and spilled open, releasing the stench of a rotten sandwich in plastic wrap. But it also let something else out.

  A small bag of potato chips bounced out, followed by a rolling thermos. The pack of snacks was forced over the edge of the desk along with the cylindrical canteen. As the bag hit the floor the thermos landed on top of it, popping out any air in the bag. No big deal, right?

  Sniffing, the comic book nerd picked it up first. “You smell that? Smells like...”

  I inhaled before dropping my shoulders. “Smells like... dill pickles.”

  Smiling, he was proud I so readily knew what kind of chips they were. “Yeah!”

  If not for the helmet, I would’ve face palmed. “Fuck. Seriously, Gene?”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” he grew defensive over distant howls.

  “You still did it.”

  “I was just taking what Khaliss said before me. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same!”

  I shrugged, “Probably,but I wouldn’t’ve fucking knocked everything over in the process!”

  Uncharacteristically, my sister-in-law cut in, “Are you sure about that?”

  I scuffed my boot. “Okay. I at least would’ve tried to stop everything from falling off the desk.”

  Readying her rifle, she made another addition. “And you probably would’ve made it worse!”

  Seeing I was being verbally gang raped, I sighed. “Fuck the both of you.” I used a rhetorical question for defense. “How the hell could it be any worse?”

  Smiling, The Tech pumped his shotgun. “This’ll make it all better!”

  I could only hang my head. Shit. We’re gonna die!

  ☠☠☠

  From our position, we watched a peevie.. two…dozens…every monster in existence pour in through the front door. We were so far down the hall their movements appeared in slow motion. Watching death approach at half speed, I wondered why no one on the Cora was shooting the enemy before they reached the entrance. Probably because Crow was the only damn person on the deck and she didn’t give a shit if we got brutally murdered or not. I guess I could’ve called somebody on the radio, but you gotta remember... foresight’s not my strong suit. Perception has a pretty low count in the SPECIAL section of my Pipboy.

  Without bothering to alert me of his movements, like I was going to be shooting anytime soon anyway, The Tech Force ran up to the bathroom door. This just cemented in my mind that this really was the only other damn door in this hallway. Crouching, he leaned from the entryway with the barrel of a shotgun poking out. I thought he was about to iron sight and unload some buckshot, but he must have quickly scrolled up to set a frag grenade in his hand. Laughing, he reared back, throwing it over handed for what had to be several football fields of distance.

  The device bou
nced once, twice, with ridiculous space between each contact. Before it touched the ground a third time, it exploded in the midst of the first ranks of the zombies. Creatures immediately surrounding the flaming ball of death disappeared in the burning flash. It incinerated those lucky few in less than a heartbeat. Others, though... they wouldn’t be so fortunate.

  Animals along the walls were protected on one side, scalded and trashed on the other. Bones, grenade fragments, and various body parts impaled several ghouls, creating a scarier image of multiple appendaged peevies. Their own weak skeletal structures simply ruptured under the extreme overpressure, popping lungs and bursting organs. Survival might be possible, but walking sure as hell wouldn’t. These things would get to starve to death, lying in crumpled heaps where they fell. I was glad the inhuman monsters would get to suffer. Motherfuckers.

  Another little ball rolled to the feet of one of the rotten creatures. It stopped, bent over, picked it up, and looked at it. It was clear the thing didn’t know what it was, but it knew it was holding something more than just a rock. Before anything else could happen, a white flash enveloped the zombie’s hand. In the next instant, its entire body was consumed by the superheated burst. I don’t think it even felt anything, nor did it have time to realize it was in the gory fast lane to peevie afterlife.

  A Willy Pete canister landed along the wall a few feet short of reaching any enemies. You could bet it would damage the fuck out of them; there were just none within the immediate vicinity. Suddenly, a former human took a running slide, definitely lubricated by shit, to pick the handheld napalm up. After conveniently stopping, it stood and reared back. The instant the grenade went airborne, it erupted.