Dead Island Ravenous

by Allen Gamboa

  “Dude you’d seriously make some big bucks sucking dick. We’re in a coffee shop and not a fucking lick of coffee!” Washington whispered as the pilot noticed all eyes were now on him. “Good thing ain’t no one else thirsty.”

  “Stow, it!” Jefferson growled lowly. “Think you can make any more noise? Those assholes are out there looking for us so can it.”

  “Sorry.” Kantner said looking like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Keep your weapon on those doors.” The Marine pointed toward the entrance.

  “Roger that Jeff.” Washington whispered.

  “Any suggestions Corporal?” Cho asked as she crawled up next to Jefferson.

  “Shit.” Jefferson sighed and shook his head slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was oversee this whole mess. “Well, Sergeant,” The Marine said giving weight to the other soldier’s rank. “how about we put your Ranger and Washington on the front doors while you, Kate and I check for another way out of here. We probably have a few minutes before those dickheads figure out where we are.”

  “Okay, what about Kantner?”

  “He looks safe for now.” The Marine nodded over to where the pilot sitting behind the counter checking the floor for anything else he could put in his mouth. “We need to get a move on.”

  “Roger that.” Cho signaled for Franco to watch the entrance. The wounded Ranger nodded and crawled over next to where Washington knelt, rifle aimed at the blind covered doors. The Ranger gave Washington a curt nod and both men exchanged a fast fist bump.

  “Kate.” The Marine whispered. “Come with us.”

  “Here.” Cho handed her a case. “Guard this with your life.”

  “No worries Cho.” The firefighter tightly smiled. “That’s the only thing I have left.”

  Jefferson glanced around the abandoned restaurant then back at the two women. “Let’s find us a back door. I don’t plan on dying in a place called THANKS A LATTE.”

  CHAPTER 64: COULDN’T GET HER SMELL OFF ME FOR A WEEK

  Outside the Nitrex Plant

  “Fuck Doc!” Hale groaned as the medic finished applying the compression bandage to the stab wound that was just under his arm pit. The big sergeant lay on his side on a sleeping bag next to the team’s SUV. Doc shook his head and patted the shirtless sergeant on his side.

  “You can lower your arm now tough guy.” The medic said grabbing his pack off the ground and standing up. “And you are welcome. You’re lucky that dipshit missed anything vital. It’s just a flesh wound. Tore up your jumpsuit though. We get back to FedEx I’ll get you some good stitches in that wound. For now, no chest workouts. I know. I know, that’s like telling you not to breathe.”

  “Hurts like a bitch Doc.” Hale winced as he pressed his left hand against the dressing.

  “Quit acting like one and for fucks sake stop playing with it.”

  “Fuckhead sliced me good.” The sergeant let out another groan as he sat up. Squinting, he glanced around and could see Duley and Vannelli were still providing a perimeter for them.

  “Fuck!” Hale groaned again as he got to his feet.

  “Your pussy hurt too?” Cross smiled as she approached the sergeant with her rifle slung across her front. The red head had been deeply shaken when she saw Hale get stabbed and collapse. She just knew that he’d been killed by that asshole Uribe. Cross was more than pleasantly surprised when she’d found the sergeant was just lightly wounded. “Here.” She jammed a wadded-up shirt into Hale’s bare chest resting her hand a little longer than she should have against his hard pecs. “Your jumpsuit got sliced pretty bad. Wear this, It’s Doc’s so it should fit. I was going to give you one of mine but I figured they’d be too big.”

  “Ha.” Hale pulled the shirt over his wide shoulders, stretching it out barely covering the muscle-bound sergeant’s torso. The words ‘Three Finger Prom Date’ were twice their normal size now that they were spread out across Hale’s wide chest. If the shirt was any smaller it would have looked like a half shirt on the sergeant.

  “Don’t fuck that shirt up.” Doc said shoving his med pack into the SUV. “That’s my favorite band besides Gas Station Sushi.”

  “Three Finger Prom Date?” Hale frowned.

  “Give it back then.” Doc slammed the SUVs back doors shut. “I don’t go knocking hair bands!”

  “Seriously,” Cross rested a gloved hand on her rifle. “you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Hale nodded as he slowly tried to reach down for his vest. Groaning he stopped and stood straight up. Cross chuckled as she grabbed up his tac vest and handed it to him.

  “Fine, huh? Why did you pass out then?”

  “Must have took a massive adrenaline dump when Uribe sliced me. I don’t even remember hitting the ground.”

  “Wasn’t pretty. I’m glad you’re okay though Hale.”

  “Ha, Cross. You are a softy.”

  “Don’t push it Sarge.” She said helping him shrug into his vest. “I’m just happy he didn’t fuck you up too bad.”

  “Thanks. Hell, I’m doing just a little bit better than he is.” Hale said glancing over to where Uribe’s corpse lay sprawled.

  “Yeah, well he shouldn’t have been such an ass wad. Dipshit brought a knife to a gun fight” Cross said helping the sergeant with his vest. The red head was very protective of her team, her family. Hale nodded and scanned the area around them. The early morning sun was slowly rising. At least the trip back would be less dangerous. “Where’s that drug Doctor and Speedy?”

  “Oh, man bun? He’s in the SUV with Speedy. Berry’s watching them.”

  “Berry?” Hale smirked. “No Cherry Berry?”

  “Not after wasting all those dead heads.” Cross looked over at Uribe’s motionless body. “What do you want to do with that lump of shit?”

  “Leave him.” Hale grabbed up his rifle from where it was resting against the SUVs fender. He gave it a quick check then slung it over his shoulder. “He wants to add more poison to this world, well, fuck him. You have the sat phone?” Cross nodded and pulled the phone out of a leg pocket. “I guess this mission was as a total fucking bust. Hell, we didn’t even get a reach around.” Hale looked around at his surviving team members. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here. There’s not much more we can do. Go ahead and gas up the transports.”

  “We gassed up the vehicles while you were out.” Cross told him.

  “How long was I out?” The big sergeant asked.

  “Long enough to gas up two big rigs by hand.” Doc smiled.

  “I must be getting too damn old letting a dink like Uribe get the upper hand on me.” Hale ran a hand across his scarred face, the wound in his side ached with the motion. “Doc, you, Vannelli and Duley take the Humvee. Cross with me.”

  “Hey Sarge.” Doc said testily as he pulled his med pack back out of the SUV. “Don’t fuck up my shirt. I had to sleep with this skank that sold them at the concert. She was so nasty I couldn’t even get off.” Doc shivered as he slung his kit and trudged toward the Humvee. “Couldn’t get her smell off me for a week either. Should’ve got a Purple Heart for that. I earned that shirt, so don’t fuck it up.”

  “Hey!” Vannelli shouted from the turret of the Humvee. He had a look of disgust as he pushed the 240-machine gun to the side. “Someone shit all over the gun!”

  CHAPTER 65: I NEVER DID LIKE THAT PRICK

  Camp FedEx

  Once the HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopter had set down in the camp’s landing zone, the side door slid open and a tall, dark skinned man dressed in wood land camo stepped out. As the aircraft’s engines started to whine down, he turned back toward the open door and was handed an ice chest from inside. Sergeant James ‘Redwood’ Williams carried the ice chest in one of his big hands and his Mini-14 rifle in the other as he quickly strode over to where Morgan was standing out of the way of the rotor wash.

  “Morgan, I leave for a week and it all goes to shit!” The big Native American set the cooler down at his feet then
stuck out a gloved hand. “I was going to say it’s good to be home but…”

  “I blame you.” The Major quickly shook his hand then pulled him in for a fast hug. Morgan and Redwood had served together in the regular military. The big Native American had been with Morgan on his mission to capture Mexican drug lord ‘Bob the Butcher’ Camacho. “We didn’t have that gut of yours to give us heads up.”

  “My gut has been fine since I left.” Redwood pulled away and rubbed the front of his tac vest. “Starting to kinda hurt now though.”

  “It should. We have a shit ton of Deaders headed this way.”

  “Aw, crap.” Redwood glanced around at the other contractors who were busy readying for the assault. “Up North things are a lot quieter. Where’s the rest of the team?”

  “On a mission about six hours out. Look I have a plan in motion. Dusty is leading the skin sacks away using sound. We’re counting on him being able to get them far enough out that those ass fucks will wander off and their herd will fall apart. Hopefully they’ll forget about this place.”

  “Hopefully. Do we have enough ammo for any kind of stand?”

  “No, not unless you guys have any in that bird of yours.” Morgan nodded over to the men that were unloading the helicopter. Redwood and his team had been assigned to help protect a small Coast Guard unit that had salvaged a cargo ship that wrecked off the coast. Strategic Securities payment had been ten thousand pounds of whatever supplies the cargo ship contained.

  “No, just food and water.” Redwood noticed the disappointed look on Morgan’s face. “Normally that would be a good thing.”

  “Normally, yes.” The Major glanced around impatiently. “Look, the Colonel was running a drug operation using our resources plus he was selling or trading off our weapons and ammo.”

  “I never did like that prick.” Redwood rubbed his hairless chin. “You in charge?”

  “Yep, the Captain was involved too. I got him locked up in one of the empty trailers.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I killed the Colonel.” Morgan said nonchalantly.

  “Killed the Colonel?” Redwood raised a big hand before the Major could explain. “You guys just can’t function without this injun can you?”

  “Apparently not. You good?”

  “Other than landing in the middle of a full blown deader assault, yeah, I’m good. What do you need from me?” Morgan’s radio crackled and a muffled voice came over the handset mic. The Major quickly spoke an order into it then looked back at Redwood.

  “Get the air crew to refuel your bird in case we need to get it airborne, then meet me in the TOC. Load enough ammo, food and water inside for ten for a week!”

  “Copy that.” Redwood used a booted foot to slide the ice chest closer to the Major.

  “What’s in the box?” Morgan asked as he hefted the cooler.

  “A head.” The Major gave Redwood a hard look. “Just open it.”

  Morgan pulled back the lid and peeked inside. Grinning ear to ear he looked over at the sergeant. “Salmon?”

  “Fresh Salmon. Those Coasties were far enough out we only had to put down a dozen or so of those skin bags. I actually had time to fish. It was nice.”

  “Well, hell.” Morgan closed the lid. The radio cracked again and Morgan gave out another order. “Thanks Redwood. I guess maybe we should move North.”

  “Definitely, the terrain and weather thin those bastards out.” Redwood agreed.

  “Hopefully we’ll have time to eat these.” The Major said heading back to the TOC carrying the ice chest. “Get your ass back here as soon as you’re done.”

  “Copy that Major.” Redwood said above his growling stomach. The big native could feel bad things were about to happen.

  CHAPTER 66: I’M GETTIN’ ITCHY

  Thanks A Latte

  “They have to be in there!” Digger told Martone as the two knelt behind the cover of a weed filled water fountain at the front of the large strip mall. Martone glanced over to Ali and Cutter who were prone on the parking lot asphalt, using an old Prius for cover. The Armenian looked to his right and saw the green Mohawked mercenary nicknamed Frog, squatting behind a row of broken and empty vending machines. The Armenian crouched farther down and peered through a small opening in the high weeds. He could see the shop’s front doors shut and the window blinds were all pulled down. Scanning some of the other stores in the strip mall, Martone noticed the doors were all either wide open or broken or nonexistent. None of them were secured or had the windows covered like the sandwich shop. Martone carefully moved back and turned to Digger.

  “See what I mean Martone?” The Australian whispered. “That shop is locked up tighter than a choir boy’s butthole.” The Armenian half-heartedly nodded.

  “You are an expert at choir boy’s buttholes.” Martone said nervously fingering the gold chains around his neck.

  “Any holes a goal mate.” Digger said, not a drop of shame in his voice.

  “Maybe the owner had a piece of mind to secure his shop before he left?”

  “And maybe Madonna doesn’t take it up the ass!” Digger smirked.

  “You horny mate? Looking to have your peanut butter stirred?” Martone grinned.

  “Been a bit Martone.” The Australian said stroking his rifle barrel lewdly. “They have some women with them, hell that don’t really matter. I just need some warm flesh to violate. I’m getting’ itchy.”

  The Armenian ran an anxious hand through his slick pony tail then turned to watch the shop. “Dolan wants us to capture as many alive as we can. I’m sure there will be someone you can dance the chocolate cha-cha with.” Digger just bobbed his head in eager agreement. “You really think they are in there?”

  “Come on Martone, it just makes sense. That’s the only defensible place in the whole bloody lot.”

  “Alright. We’ll give it a go.” Martone spoke into his hand held. “Ali, Cutter. I want you to move to the rear of that shop with the Thanks A Latte, sign on it.”

  “What a silly fucking name.” Digger whispered.

  Martone ignored the other mercenary. “Go around to the back of the place. If any of them try to get out that way shoot to wound.”

  “Shoot to wound?” Martone could hear the disappointment in Cutters voice.

  “Dolan’s orders. You kill one so what. Just don’t kill them all. Remember above all we want the cases.”

  “Bloody fucking cases.” Digger grumbled. “After all this rubbish, there better be some gold-plated pussy inside.”

  “Frog,” Martone said into his radio again ignoring Digger. “when I give the go ahead you follow me ‘an Digger to the front of the shop. We’ll stack up on it and go in from there.”

  “Copy that Martone.” Frog replied.

  “Let’s hurry this up Martone.” Digger rubbed the front of his pants. “I’m about ready to squirt one off just thinking about it.”

  “Guy, you ever shut up?”

  “I’m just jonesin for some ass or some chew. Ya got either Mate?”

  “No Guy, but if you keep running your mouth I’m going to fill it with some Armenian dick. Copy that?”

  Digger nodded dejected. “Copy.”

  “Good, let’s get moving. Cutter, Ali go!”

  CHAPTER 67: YOU GOT A MOTHER?

  Behind Thanks A Latte

  Jefferson glanced out the small window of the steel rear door of the coffee shop. Using his gloved hand, he wiped a thick blanket of cobwebs away from the window. From the small opening in the exit door, the Marine could see the open front of two more stores along with an alleyway that led to a back-parking lot. Jefferson noticed a couple of deaders stumbling about looking for a warm flesh breakfast but no sign of the mercenaries. Jefferson slung his rifle and turned back toward Cho and Kate who stood at the rear of the shop. Both women held one of the metal cases while the third was still with Kantner. Wiping his spider web sticky gloves on his pants he glanced over at the firefighter.

  “Can I get
your Halligan?”

  “Sure.” Kate handed him her fire tool.

  “What’s out there?” Cho whispered.

  “Two meat sacks looking for chow. I don’t see any live bad guys yet but you can bet your ass they’re out there. You two cover me and I’ll slide out and clear the way. There’s an alley that runs to a parking lot. Looks like that might be the best way to go. Get as far away from those mercenary dick heads as we can. See if there’s a working vehicle we can use. The longer we hang out here our chances of surviving drop.”

  “I can find us a vehicle and if it’s got any juice in the battery and something in its tank, I can pretty much get it running.” Cho checked her rifle and moved closer to the door. “I got your back Corporal.”

  “Jefferson.”

  “Jefferson.” The Sergeant repeated his name, this time giving him a quick smile. “You get us out of here with the cases and I’ll take back every bad thing I’ve said or thought about Marines.”

  Jefferson frowned. “That bad huh?”

  “That bad.” She smirked. “Buy you a beer too.”

  “I can always use a beer.” He glanced over toward the front of the shop. “Wash, you guys ready to hightail it out of here?”

  “Yep,” Washington moved back away from where he’d been peeking out one of the blinds. “Looks like those fucksticks are planning to move on us.”

  “We better get gone then.” Jefferson looked over at Kantner. “Ace, get your ass up!”

  “Ace?” The pilot looked around then quickly got to his feet. “Really? Ace?”