Still Alive (Book 7): Zombie Perdition

by Bonds, Javan

  The revenant disappeared in the all-encompassing flash. After the area was visible again, there was nothing left above the oozing thigh bones. Ghoul was simply obliterated. Not enough mayhem. Where’s the violence?

  “They can throw grenades now?” This’ll be something to report in the next radio conversation with my father. Tonight? Damn! I wasn’t sure what time it was.

  The Tech grumbled. “Well, they won’t be from now on.”

  So wrapped up in watching the disgusting disturbance, I didn’t see Gene toss the next projectile; another white phosphorus. Wisely, he chose to cook it off a second before throwing it. The blast of incinerating magma simply cut the bastards at the center into pieces. Limbs were severed, leaving nearly clean stumps where arms and legs were only heartbeats ago. They were immediately replaced by fucking Kill Bill fountains of blood.

  Cannibals receiving pieces of fire could do nothing but melt like witches on The Wizard Of Oz! Where are the flying monkeys? Holy shit, Mary needs wings! What about the Oompa Loompa midgets? Bradley at least looks short... when sitting down. Okay. Not really. I guess The Screenwriter would be the man behind the curtain. Who could I be? I’m not badass enough looking to be the lion. I don’t want to be the Scarecrow dude. I’m wearing a silver suit, but I’m far too delicate to be the tin man. Fuck! I’ll probably be cast as Dorothy... or Toto. Crow treats me like a dog anyway.

  If the Brotherhood of Steel Paladin didn’t stop making zombie paste at the other end of the corridor, we’d be at risk of drowning in gak that smelled like rotten chicken. The ceiling, walls, and floor of the structure were entirely cement... like a tunnel... underground. This place didn’t appear to be some kind of fallout shelter before we entered. There were no hills surrounding it to be built into. I don’t remember a downward incline anywhere inside. What the hell? Suppose the structure just had to be made of some kind of indestructible material to make our exit as nasty as possible. Imagine the heroes wading through the slop in the trash compactor on the Death Star. Only this time, none of the eyes would be on stalks.

  Peevies were becoming gelatinous puddles on The Tech’s command. It was entertaining to watch them become part of the growing pool of ooze a mile away. Regardless, they were getting closer, paying for each inch in countless unlives. Monsters were piling over each other to reach the vinegar. Without pause, they would simply continue driving forward even if they were physically touching an undead compatriot disemboweled remains or ripped into pieces. The sprinting, screaming charge of the zombies could be described as nothing but insane.

  As they closed on Gene, he selected his scattergun to start what appeared to be a volley of automatic shots. No, I didn’t see him pump the damn thing one time. One of them received a hole the size of a basketball through its torso. Was the entry wound widening? I swear to God, he had caustic rounds or something. Pellets covered in acid? I didn’t even know they made those... or would be legal.

  There wasn’t time to watch the empty, viscously seeping circle grow. The revenant to the immediate rear took the sloppy seconds of the slowing buckshot in its sunken abdomen, just a little to the right of the first victim. Traveling at a lower velocity, the tiny balls of lead came to a grinding halt once penetrating the vital organs. Unfortunate enough not to receive a more devastating blow, it crashed into the scourge before it, writhing in agony on a much more lackadaisical path to blue infinity.

  Stupefied, I watched pellets puncture deadheads and tear through reanimated corpses by the dozens. My sister-in-law hurried ahead of me to line up with Gene. I stood, shoulders slumped. “Well, fuck! Guess that means I gotta move up, too. Joy to the world.” Dragging my feet, I started my trek.

  ☠☠☠

  “Well... just start without me, then,” I grumbled, taking a knee beside Aka, already nearing the end of her first mag. Because I really wanted to be in on the action.

  Once I started squeezing the trigger of my rifle, I realized it was fun as hell. No aiming was really required. Hard not to hit a basic wall of blue, excrement covered bodies. Somehow, this wall was still swelling in our direction.

  Couldn’t tell you how many rounds I’d sent downrange already, but the first impact that I paid enough attention to to remember was worth watching. Repeatedly. In slo-mo, hi-def... and all that shit.

  The round zipped through the forehead of an infected skull and came out near the back at an upward arc. Cranium popped open like a container of pinkish, gooey scrambled eggs. Only knowing something was wrong, the animal stopped all movement. It raised its hand up to the top of its head and started feeling for an injury. Fingers sinking into gray matter, it jerked violently. Before it could confusedly do anything more, the creature behind and above toppled onto it, tilting the pot and spilling the quiche onto the floor.

  That bullet came out at an upward arc? Yeah, it impacted a taller, scrawnier peevie just under the Adam’s apple. The ballistic tip ate through cartilage and sinew to rupture the throat and arteries. Flailing for the briefest of moments, it eventually collapsed onto its fellow in a crawl in front of it. I couldn’t tell which was bleeding more. Not that it mattered anyway, they were both goners.

  The African goddess in the Storm outfit on my right was at least half a dozen magazines down, judging by the empty banana clips lying on the floor. A ghoul turned its face to us while on its hands and knees, mouth agape. Unluckily for it, a round went straight down its throat. Malnourished guts posed absolutely no hindrance as it ripped through the insides and shot out somewhere above the colon. What a shame! I’ll never get to see something you could compare to the Goatse.cx image, just with added diarrhea. The black cloud behind it clung to the air for a moment before dissipating... or simply falling to the ground as a solid fucking object.

  Not specifying the person I was addressing, Gene knew to whom I was speaking. “Kill ratio?”

  He chuckled. “I lost count after the first seventy-five dropped. Not had to respawn a single time this round. I have to be due a level up!”

  Probably sounding a bit Urkelish, I returned. “Well, you better spend some of those attribute points on agility and endurance. Be a fucking brawl in a minute!”

  Dropping the shotgun on the sling, he cracked his knuckles before extending his claws. “Get some!” I could only hang my head.

  ☠☠☠

  Fingers of either gloved hand together, Wolverine claws formed a double, inverted, elongated numeral three. At just the right moment, Gene threw fists to his sides, disintegrating the number of hit points for the couple of plague carriers at his front. Seemingly with no resistance, blades sliced into the nutrition deprived, completely defenseless bodies. Meat split like butter under the razor-sharp adamantium. I guess the sinew and skeletal structure had been so weakened by starvation they didn’t pose a barrier to the razor-sharp steel.

  Cakey excrement, resembling burned Oreo cookies plopped onto the floor amid organs and blood. Somehow, the reeking shit was still visible through the other fluids. I guess The Screenwriter just wanted to remind us we are always surrounded by turds. No matter how many zombies we slaughter, poop will still be the image we see in our last waking moments. That’s a great thought, huh? Counseling might make one forget the ungodly horrors we witness every single day, but damned if we can forget the shit.

  Because our only dam technician had been ordered by her husband to stay behind us, she continued sending rifle rounds down the opposite side of the hallway of Gene. It was clear they were only interested in the precious vinegar, not the humans. Once getting close enough, I guess we became a priority, since we were nearer to them than their intoxicant. Even still, the two of us were a few yards further down the hallway than Aka, so they acted like she was fucking invisible, honing in on either of us. Yeah, I know we’re protecting her and all that shit, it’d just be nice of them to go after her and make it look like we were being useful... besides just saving our fucking selves.

  Tearing my gaze away from the entertainment that was Gene eviscerating canni
bal nudists to my far right, I stepped around and behind my sister-in-law and readied my bat’leth. Hesitantly stepping forward, I spoke to my rear left. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll do all the work.” I made sure to lay on heavy sarcasm.

  She scoffed, continuing to fire her SKS. “I have to stay back!”

  “Sure you do.” About to tack something on about how she needed to be protected by men... because we’re strong and vigilant and all that shit, I instead turned to face the comers.

  Good thing I did, because a peevie was nearly on top of me. Holding my Klingon sword vertically, one-handed, it ran into the points, feet too slick with manure to stop in time. Amazingly, I had a tight enough grip that it didn’t knock the damn thing from my hand. The closest end to the floor didn’t penetrate anything, but the point above that stabbed into the ball sac just below the somehow still aroused penis. The uppermost inner point of the blade drove into the nose, while the one at the top simply pushed into the weak skull.

  Freezing, it haplessly looked at me. I stared back at it, wondering how it was still alive. “Dude, why the hell did you do that? I don’t even know what to do now.” For some reason, I didn’t just twist the blade and kill the fucking thing.

  The scourge gently pulled its head back, hoping that would fix it. It didn’t. After a second, crimson started gushing from the head wound. Because I’m an anatomy major, I could tell it went brain-dead. Body went rigid, yellow eyes stared into nothing, and pounds of diarrhea sprayed into the floor behind it, making wet slaps on the cement. I guess I won. Hooray!

  Just as suddenly, the truly dead undead corpse went slack, collapsing where it stood. Because the upper points were now freed, the third in line was still sunk into the shriveled testicles, and the fourth stabby thing was somewhere between the legs, some kind of pivot occurred. Calculus... trigonometry... some other advanced math I don’t understand.

  As the monster dropped, the upper points of my alien blade moved backwards. The one at the bottom started moving forward and up. It drove into the taint, continued tearing straight up through the ass crack, ripping the colon to pieces, and finally exiting just below the tailbone. Even more steaming sewage ran from the gaping slice. Though I couldn’t see it, poop smacking on concrete is an unforgettable sound. Thank God I didn’t have to look at what I just did to the creature. Shit, and I thought that one earlier looked like Goatse.cx!

  With a lull in the battle, I turned back to the woman dressed as Storm. “You know... Isn’t your thingamajig a thrusting spear?”

  “You mean my iklwa??

  I lifted my chin. “Yeah. That.”

  “It is.” Her foot had to be tapping. “So?”

  “You can thrust it... from a distance. Throw the damn thing!”

  She breathed exaggeratedly. “Think about that.” After giving me a second to contemplate, which, of course, I chose to waste, my sister-in-law continued, “Throwing my melee weapon at the enemy would be a one-shot deal. It would take out one, possibly two peevies. On the other hand, I could continue simply firing my SKS and annihilate at least one per shot.” Again, she waited with a condescending look in her eye. “Which do you think would be a more valuable way to use my time?”

  Wow, Aka just made me feel like an idiot. That’s never happened before. Good thing there were no dunce caps lying around. My grip tightened on the bat’leth.

  “Fine. Whatever!” It just seemed like we were doing more work; physical labor, anyway. Like her slaves.

  Before I could make a remark about how she was mistreating my cracker ass, I looked over to The Tech, still in the thick of the brawl. Both hands were driven to the knuckles somewhere in the chest of a reanimated corpse when another came barreling from his left. Wrapping its arms around his waist, it drove him sideways. Wolverine claws went along with him.

  That peevie he was in the process of killing? Yeah, it stayed the fuck where it was. The blades ripped through lungs, esophagus, cardiac muscle, and everything else in that area. Even the sternum was torn through like a block of soft cheese! It took a second for the animal to realize it was dead. Looking down, it tried to inhale. Voiding its jam packed bowels, it dropped in a crumpled pile of body fluids and chocolate frosting... with sprinkles!

  Gene crashed against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Obviously, the demon’s arms, wrapped around his armored waist, were pulverized. It lifted its elbows, crumpled, destroyed forearms dangling limply. In the jarring fall, the Brotherhood of Steel Paladin’s helmet was knocked to the floor. Even with unusable hands, the zombie pushed through the blinding pain to go for a bite of that tender, scrawny, unprotected neck.

  Dazed from receiving what had to be a concussion, the sci-fi enthusiast couldn’t put up much of a defense. Being The Hero, I threw myself forward, with Klingon bat’leth in both hands at my chest. My blade landed on the thing across the back, right below the rib cage. With the added weight of the Cylon armored me on top of it, the razor-sharp sword sliced raggedly all the way through the blue body below. Screaming and howling filled my ears as the monster was halved. Yes, I fucking did that.

  Now, not able to move without legs, the broken armed creature could do nothing but cry and wallow back and forth. Only the helmet protected my face from floating in more organs than anything should have along with gallons of stinking blood, and sumo wrestlers’ bowels full of putrid tar. To top it off, the dying ass hole was impossibly squirting noxious, black party foam onto my torso. What a treat!

  “Mo just saved Gene! I need to give him something he’ll never forget.” God just keeps fucking gifting me such blessings.

  Because I already rescued The Tech from ensured infection, he conveniently chose this time to come back to his senses. He stood and thrust a set of claws through the throat of the fading revenant. Even though no longer attached and it was spilling out the guts, somehow the intestines went slack and pooped out even more feces from the rectum. These things are starving! How the hell can each be crammed full of more shit then they weigh?

  Already sitting up, I was only looking at the fountaining anus. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” In spite of myself, I smirked. I suppose it was!

  “You’re welcome,” I looked over at my comrade wearing a suit of armor.

  Still unhelmeted, he fixed his eyes on me and spoke with gratitude. “Mo! I now owe you a life debt. Thank you.”

  I blew his thankfulness off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not watching Enterprise with you anymore.” Sounded like a fair deal.

  Wait a minute. Don’t I remember something about a life debt... Star Wars or something? It’s sacred or some shit... and it’s a huge dishonor to deny it. Well, dammit! I guess that means I know who I’ll be going on every fucking mission with. Maybe I can talk him into staying on the Cora once in a while.

  Standing, I walked over to pick up his helmet. I handed it to him while extending the other hand. He grasped it and pulled himself up. “You’re with me, Buddy,” I said; Because I didn’t really know what else to say. Was I supposed to give him a hug or something? Fuck that!

  ☠☠☠

  My sister-in-law slowed the bursts of 7.62 until they tapered to sporadic shots. Finally, there was no sound. Enemy ranks had been obliterated. Convenient timing... for The Audience. It was like this was planned.

  Hanging my bat’leth back over my shoulder, I spoke to both my compatriots. “Guess that’s all of them,” At least, for now.

  I lifted my radio. “Get the ship through the lock.” All we had to do was wait for the signal to close it again. Having to, I added. “And thanks.”

  “That's what you better say, white boy. We are going through.” Crow came back. At least she responded. Now we just had to be patient. Because I’m good at that!

  ☠☠☠

  At some point hours later, the cook decided to let us know they made a successful pass. We trudged through the swampy hall of detritus, making our way to the exit. Having never been in quicksand myself, I don’t really know if it would be a
good comparison. We weren’t really sinking, it was just a bitch to have to walk through a Hannibal Lecter all-you-can-eat buffet. You can’t forget about the smell. I guess our olfactory systems had become used to the stench of death in the recent millennium. Somehow, none of us passed out.

  It was a long, quiet walk back to the boat. I’ll never get over the creepiness of no birds. Bet your ass we could hear bugs. I could picture flies swarming over the disgusting entrails of the infected we left behind. Imagine them laying eggs and the bodies rotting with billions of maggots, feeding on the rotten muck. Good enough mental image for you? You’re welcome!

  ☠☠☠

  In a sweat, we made it back to the boat. Somehow, it wasn’t zero dark thirty yet. With expectancy, the other two turned to me. Did they really think I’d get the gangplank lowered? “What?”

  Aka was firm. “Make the call.”

  “Um... how about hell no?” I questioned.

  She blew her cheeks out. “But–”

  I interrupted. “But nothing. You’ve seen it happen just as many times as I have. There’s no point in me even trying. You do it!”

  Gritting her teeth, my sister-in-law conceded. “Fine.”

  Lifting her walkie, she took a step away. “Crow?”

  I could hear the letdown in her voice that she wouldn’t get to respond with a racial slur. “What’s up, Aka?”

  She smiled through the radio. “Could you be a doll and drop the gangplank for me?”

  I could picture her knuckles growing white in clenched fists. It angered her that accommodating the ebony sculpture that was my sister-in-law would coincidentally be good for us mother fucking white people. Regardless, she couldn’t deny her. “Sure thing. But only because you asked.”

  “Thanks, hon!”

  As soon as her thumb came off the transmit button, I spoke. “You know you’re doing that from now on, right?” She simply raised her eyebrows.