Still Alive (Book 7): Zombie Perdition

by Bonds, Javan

  Because he had climbed no more than a couple of steps, falling back wasn’t a death sentence. Regardless, his demise was surely approaching. Head smacking against hard concrete was still painful and probably left him with a concussion. The bleeding holes in his chest, though, they would see him into eternity. A deflated lung and a few splintered ribs meant he would suffer until the end. Raymond tried to inhale deeply but would eventually fade away in wonderment.

  He hoped whoever recovered his remains would see bullet wounds in his chest and say something about them not being in his back. Maybe my fall won’t be seen as that of a chickenshit! No matter what others might say, Raymond would die just as he lived, a coward. Weeping and soiling himself would be his last action.

  ☠☠☠

  On the second story was a small window. At least the room had residual illumination from the full moon upstairs, but there was nothing but complete darkness below Hazi. She swept her pistol around in front of her, but couldn’t aim at what she wasn’t able to see. Out of nowhere, she heard an inhuman scream to her left, at the base of the stairs.

  When she turned to point her pistol in that direction, another monstrous whale sounded from directly in front and below her. Almost losing her balance, she again pivoted. This time, she launched a single round into the empty black.

  In the split-second of the Muzzle flash, she took in a figure standing just in the corner of her vision on the right. Seeming to snicker with a sinister cackle, the shape grabbed Hazi’s shoulder and shoved. With a shrill cry, the female watchman went airborne. No time to properly aim, she fired multiple shots in its general direction.

  All three projectiles went wild, and consequently sparking against the cement. There wasn’t time to send another volley at the beast when her back crashed against the cold, hard wall. Several bones were most likely pulverized with the rocketing contact. Through the excruciating torment, she somehow remained conscious.

  For an impossible second, Hazi seemed to hang there, body clinging to the smooth wall. The suction, or whatever was holding her, suddenly let go. She tipped forward, tumbling to the ground face first. Why didn’t it knock me out?

  “Motherfu–“ was the last sound she would willingly make for the rest of her short life.

  Unable to flail her arms with scapula slicing through her lungs and ceasing all air intake, she dropped like a sack of bleeding potatoes. Noiselessly, she screamed until the front of her cranium impacted the unnatural stone. Facial structure exploded under the intense pressure. Nothing big enough to be considered a solid piece remained of anything in front of the ears. Now, she was clinically brain-dead.

  The monumental terror and unbelievable agony of that final conscious heartbeat were certainly tantalizingly pleasing to The Screenwriter. Undoubtedly, The Audience would agree. Excruciating pain was a delicious treat, reserved for the entertained. No matter how twisted they may be called, a select few can be captivated by nearly anything.

  ☠☠☠

  Sanchez backed into the deep frame of the floor to ceiling window behind and to his left. After a second, the mop holding the door open fell away. What had to be several minutes passed before bare feet could be heard smacking on the linoleum. A few halting steps later, the peevie came into view. It spun around cautiously before making its way to exit the building.

  Though Alonso didn’t realize it, the disinfectant in the water that the mop had been soaked in permeated his clothing when handling it. Undetected, he stepped out into the open, pistol raised. “Hey, motherfucker!”

  ☠☠☠

  No more obstacles. All enemies removed. The path to the opening of this cave is now clear. This one is free!

  Cautiously exiting the small enclosure, the peevie formerly known as Reaca Fielder turned round and round. No movement was detected. It sniffed. There was also not a hint of pale ones in the air.

  Picking up the pace, the animal trotted to the front doors. Behind it, a noise sounded. “Hey, motherfucker!”

  ☠☠☠

  Freezing mid stride, the former human made a slow turn. Alonso could see the thoughts running through its mind. From its expression, it was obvious it didn’t know where he came from. Don’t matter. It knows I’m here now... and that I’m gonna kill it. This will get me lots of points with Reaca!

  He leveled his handgun on the creature, center mass. As he did, it spread its arms out to the sides, dropping its own pistol. It was surrendering. Sanchez paused, not knowing how to react. Should I make a citizen’s arrest or some shit?

  Tightening his grip, he spoke. “You think that’s gonna save your blue ass?” Wasting no more time, he sent half a dozen projectiles at the beast.

  A trio of hollow points impacted the ghoul, forming a perfect pyramid between left bicep and pectoral, highest point being just above the armpit. Blood and muscle disappeared in the explosion, almost unnoticeably, revealing skeletal structure. Just as instantaneously, it was replaced with torrential crimson geysering from the ragged gash. Reanimant would’ve cried out in shock... if there had been time between this and the next barrage.

  The left side being knocked back, the next three-round burst made contact with the former human at a different angle, and much lower. The first shot slammed into the head of the flaccid penis. Whether the disconnected tip of the shaft vaporized or was simply blown far away would never be realized, it was never seen. Not that it mattered anyway. Watery red seemed to fountain from the now shortened stump. Even if not for the next couple of rounds, blood loss would be its ultimate demise.

  The second projectile drove through the shriveled scrotum, spilling out a substance resembling soupy pancake batter. It continued on into the left thigh, only nanoseconds before the final bullet also hit in the same general area. The femoral artery was irreparably damaged, sending sprays of blood as the peevie sank to its knees. All it could do was scream for the pain to cease, but it’s prayers to the god of the damned would go unanswered.

  With so many openings in its flesh, it would surely lose consciousness and bleed out in no time. The zombie formerly known as Reaca Fielder wouldn’t be getting the last blue rites. There wouldn’t even be a last meal. Destination was final.

  Should I go over there and double-tap the fucker, or just let it empty out on the floor? Alonso weighed his options. Yeah... save my ammo. Plus, I ain’t giving the damn thing a quick way out. It deserves some pain. Just for being a fucking demon!

  Sanchez took his time walking to the creature, waiting for it to grow silent from whimpering in the fetal position. Making his way to the lifeless body, he kicked it onto its back. Gazing at the fresh scar left by his initial volley, he noticed another mark, further down and to the right. There, just over the heart, was a darkened handprint. It was spattered with crimson.

  Ponderously, his eyes ran up, studying the blank visage. He almost swallowed his tongue. Reaca! But how?

  There was no way to know why or how the leader of The Black Hand had become a peevie. All Alonso Sanchez knew was that he was now an it, and it was now dead. The others gotta be told! There was now a new kingpin of the ruling gang.

  ☠☠☠

  62

  Memoirs of Benji: Three

  Standing on the runway at the airport, I watched Neal do with that suit what I thought was only possible in the movies. Some kind of spikes protruded from his forearms with a rotation of his elbow. The grappling cable shot from his right wrist. Barbs shot out the knee of his armor. And holy shit, there was even a flamethrower under his left hand! I decided against asking about the jump pack and the missile launcher, it was already completely badass.

  That demonstration was more than enough for me. I walked out onto the tarmac. "Hey, Neal! You can stop now." After a pause, I continued."You're definitely going on the next mission with us."

  Even without the rocket on his back, he nearly touched the clouds. "Holy shit. Really?? Kickass!"

  Walking in the direction of the entrance to the hangar, Boba Fett not far behind, my radio su
ddenly buzzed. "Benji. Gray Fox. You read?" I looked up at the sky, seeing it was the middle of the night. Does he ever sleep?

  "Benji here. I read you. What's up?"

  The insomniac mayor responded. "Sergeant Salzman and the Phantoms are investigating another missing child. Want to go help?"

  I cocked an eyebrow at the handset. "But... isn't it... the middle of the night?"

  As if completely forgetting what time it was, I could see Randy looking out his window. "Oh. Well... yeah it is. He works the graveyard shift. Just being productive on the clock, I guess."

  The radio went silent and I nearly heard a foot-tapping. Looking back at my new friend, I gave him a thumbs up. Keeping my eyes to Neal, I spoke loudly into the radio. "We're on it. Got an armored newcomer to bring along." I was afraid Paradis was simply going to run to Skywalker.

  Randy returned with a question. "Permanent protagonist?"

  I was aware of his beliefs. He came to accept everything about our lives being played out like a movie. One of the "characters" away with his son, my cousin, Mo, on the Viva Ancora, spoke of events and individuals chanced upon since the beginning of the zompocalypse as phenomena planned by something supernatural. Though this power could be thought of as God... Or any deity, really... Mayor Collins only referred to it as "The Screenwriter."

  Not nearly as faithful as Randy, I was beginning to come to some of the same conclusions. After watching some of the impossible shit Devin pulled off up to this point, it's hard to deny our lives are being directed by something bigger than us. Perhaps everything is set to a script. I don't see a live studio audience. And where's my royalty check?

  Smiling at Neal as he hurried past me, I spoke into the radio. "Why not?" Going on, I pressed transmit. "All right then, I'll get with Landers on the coordinates.”

  Continuing, Mayor Collins sighed. “You heard about Hunter??”

  This made me alert. “No. He's okay?”

  The other end of the radio relieved me. "Oh yeah, now he is. He went missing a couple nights ago. Says the preacher kidnapped him. No way to prove it. And of course Brother Brown denies it. Don't know why the boy‘d lie. And I ain't liked the pastor since he got here, anyway. So he's never been too fond of me."

  Almost dropping the radio, I thought back on what Sako said. Something about those twin girls being on one of the scavenging missions with the preacher, just before they were reported missing. "I had no idea. How’d he get away?"

  As if unquestionable truth, he returned. "Sako saved him."

  My blood ran cold. "And he can't verify Hunter's story?"

  Morosely, he spoke. “I’m sure he would. Just nobody's seen him since then. And the preacher said he was just sitting at home when Sako busted in and cut his arm off. Must've skipped town after that." Randy made sure to go heavy on the sarcasm.

  I joked bitterly, "Yeah... since he has so many other towns to go to."

  The mayor of Guntersville snickered, "Yeah. Anyway, I just figured I'd let you know in case you heard Hunter went missing. I'll buzz your copilot here shortly. Gray Fox. Over and out."

  Similarly signing off, I clipped the radio back to my belt. This gave me a hell of a lot to think about. There was now a new mission to complete, so I would put all other thoughts on the back burner. But I still had too many questions, just from my short talk with Randy.

  Mike Brown could be a pedophile. But if he was, what was he doing with the kids when he finished with them? Was he just dumping them across the water? As of yet, I didn't recall seeing any healthy-looking, child peevies. As a matter of fact, I rarely remember catching a glimpse of a single blue, naked kid, hungry for my flesh. Where the hell are the young ones?

  Not that we talk every day, but now I know why I haven't heard from Sako for a while. Where could he be? I just don’t see him as the type to randomly attack law-abiding citizens without provocation. This case wouldn’t be closed until the truth was discovered!

  With the disappearance of a fast friend, suspicion first given to me by him now reinforced and pretty much verified, my mind was racing. Heading inside, I found, of course, my copilot already geared up, ready to fly. Obviously, he already woke Amy. Did Robert even go home or even take that leotard off? Regardless, there were three readied heroes in Skywalker, waiting for Indiana Jones and our new Mandalorian compatriot.

  ☠☠☠

  Spotlight on the nose of the chopper came on to focus on the earth before us. A landing zone would need to be found. In the air just crossing over the coast of the mainland on the western side of the island, the gray mass in the air hopefully scared the watery shit out of some blunatics. Conveniently, when the luminescence flooded the road just in front of the Fredericks house, it centered on a police squad car, in the process of coming to a halt anyway. Glad we’d now have at least a couple new sets of armor backing us up on this one.

  Skywalker touched down on the blacktop just as the automobile killed the engine at the mouth of the driveway. Now, we were facing, through the windshields, a Clone Trooper and... Robocop? Looks like Salzman had a new suit. Kind of fitting, because of his profession. Get it? He’s a policeman. Never Mind.

  Six boots and a pair of stiletto heels touched the ground before the rotors went quiet, moving in the direction of our three new fighting comrades. I knew the Phantoms had become close with the Japanese investigator dressed as Rorschach but did Salzman know of his suspicions? Did he share them? Was he thinking, as I was beginning to, the lost kid wouldn’t be here, but on the island? Was all this doubt worth having? At some point, would any of my questions be answered?

  They similarly made their way to us, silver armor in the middle of the two white. The Sergeant reached over his shoulder. “Check it out, fellas!” He unsheathed some kind of revolver with a fucking sword on the end. It looked like a peacemaker with a sharpened machete on the barrel.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Nice. Where’d you get all that?” I gestured to encompass his armor as well.

  One of the Phantoms answered before he could speak. “Gene Stanley’s place! The Tech always has new toys for us.”

  That guy that gave me this Indiana Jones get-up? Well, he was the reason almost all of us were wearing armor. Who knew? Maybe he was more than just a super nerd.

  Rolling my head to the right, I questioned the trio. “So...this it?” Already knowing the answer, I didn’t bother waiting for a response. “Y’all ready?”

  Sergeant Salzman spit to his side. “I guess. Not like we’re going to find shit, anyway.”

  Okay then. Maybe we are on the same line of thought. I cocked my head at him. “Brown?”

  As our group began walking, he swiveled his head and scowled. “That’s what I’m thinking. We can always hope I’m wrong.”

  “Guess we’ll find out in there.” my head nodded in the direction of the abode in front of us.

  Robocop clicked his tongue. “I fucking doubt it. But who knows?”

  I wasn’t hopeful either. Hunter wasn’t a liar. But, it seemed like Salzman was a by the book cop just like Sako. Nothing outside the law could be done to come close to the truth. At least, not by us. Only shrugging, I trudged on alongside my companions.

  ☠☠☠

  With Collins and Landers in the lead, we all came to a stop at the foot of the front steps. Other than one set of footprints leading from the residence, this house appeared to have been completely untouched since May Day. Well, besides the preacher and his salvaging team coming here a few hours ago through another entrance, there were definitely no revenants inside. This shit would assuredly be less work than the past few houses me and the HITs had been dealing with.

  And when I say footprints, yes, there were actually fucking blackened, shitty, bare tracks leading away from the door. Yeah, they were aged, but don’t ask me how the hell they were still visible after so long. Do zombies cover their marks? Even if this is some kind of super-smart, fucking Einstein peevie with the ability to be stealthy, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of them. There�
��d be random sprays of shit all over the property if this was a nest. At least I’ll be able to take a fucking load off.

  ☠☠☠

  There was a smearing of shit coming from out of the house, but it didn’t appear we were entering a hive. The owner of the house must’ve gotten bit, turned inside, and ran away, never to return. As I opened the glass security door, my nose wasn’t assaulted by a disgusting mush of carpet. There were no blunatics rushing to get a taste of my delectable flesh. We entered an almost clean, completely quiet living room. Clothing stripped off as the infected former homeowner hurried for the door was notable. This would be easy. Or so I assumed.

  ☠☠☠

  The eight of us split into four pairs to search. Why were we searching an obviously empty building anyway? Just going through the motions, I guess. On our way upstairs, the bounty Hunter made an inquisitive noise, stopping at the first door we passed. It was cracked open.

  Pushing the door open, he made his way inside. I stopped and followed. Of course, this room was also immaculate, like every other one in the house. The thing worth noticing was what I could only describe as a fuck ton of freeze-dried food. Mr. Fredericks was clearly a prepper. A lot of good it did him.

  One wall was lined nearly halfway to the ceiling with buckets of packaged food. Another featured shelving units crammed with bottled water and various seasonings. There were solar flashlights, camp cooking gear, and everything else in a survivalist’s wet dream throughout the rest of the room. Why didn’t the church group take some of this? Probably, they just didn’t have the means to make such a massive haul, being only a search party. They would surely be back for it tomorrow.

  “Dude, I gotta see if there are any of those freeze-dried ice cream bars. I love that shit!” Came from Boba Fett.