Zombies On A Plane_Still Alive Book Three

by Javan Bonds

  She came back, clearly in a hurry. “Everything’s going great, I just wish you were here! Randy says he needs the radio back. I love you, Mo-Mo.”

  I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a problem using that word around others. It’s not that I don’t love Sarah. It’s just hard for me to say it even if it is meant in friendship. I just closed my eyes and stuttered, “I…love you, too. See you soon.”

  My father returned. “Well, we need to get off here. I’ll get with you on your escape plans tomorrow night. Gray Fox, out.”

  Did anyone else notice how he drops out of his radio lingo whenever he feels like it, but because I don’t have a call sign I’m a DISGRACE?

  ☠☠☠

  19

  Mo Journal Entry 9

  HAMMER ROUSED EACH of us as gently as my father would used to and just as damn early. The sun was barely up! I guess she was in a hurry to be enslaved.

  “Where da food at lady?”

  “We can go to the prison cafeteria.” She paused as The Oracle’s eyes grew wide. “After we go see Mo’s brother.”

  He went apeshit. He screamed, “Aw fuck dat! Imma get me summin’ in my belly now!”

  The Loner, who was not much of a talker, ran his hand over his cat. He soothed, “If you show up alone, they’ll start getting suspicious about the rest of us.”

  The future diabetic calmed at that. “Fine. But we gonna hurry da hell up or I’s eatin ’y’all’s skinny asses.”

  The threat was empty but physically possible. I gave him a little more hope, “I’m sure Easy has some protein bars in his room.”

  He shrugged in satisfaction and slowly got out of bed. We began filing out of the room. No showers, no brushing of teeth–we just took turns standing before the throne and were out the door.

  　☠☠☠

  “Do you know where they keep confiscated materials?”

  “Why the hell would I know that? Just because I’ve been living here doesn’t mean they gave me the key to the city!”

  Really? They don’t give prisoners guided tours of the prison, including a sneak peek at weak points of the fence? I simply sighed, “Do they have some sort of armory?”

  “I guess. It’d be in the main building,” my extremely helpful brother came back. He asked, “You had weapons or something?”

  No retard, we would never carry those evil machines of death! Just because there are marauding paramilitary types and crazed blue cannibals in every shadow is no reason to go around armed. I know my brother isn’t some kind of crazy liberal and wasn’t asking because he just couldn’t believe we would carry something so dangerous, he’s just dense and sheltered.

  The Expert cut in, “That reminds me! Hang on.”

  She stood and walked to the bathroom, returning not long after with a smile on her face and a handful of grenades. I started wondering if she had one of those hollow prosthetic limbs. Maybe the eyepatch is covering up a storage locker; there is no way in hell you can have five grenades shoved up your ass overnight and it simply slipped your mind. I wanted to ask her, “You mean you managed to smuggle grenades and a fucking walkie-talkie into the prison, but you couldn’t stow away a damn pistol?” I thought better of it because I was afraid she would tell me where the grenades had been hidden, or worse, ask me to hide a couple for her.

  “Frags!” she stated with a smile. “No shit,” almost crossed my lips before I realized her response could have been, “Well, not much.”

  I stated the obvious. “I don’t think we can bust out of prison with nothing but grenades.”

  Hammer rolled her eye at me. “I know that. I’ll do some looking around and see if I can find where our guns are then use these things to get into wherever my precious little babies are locked up!”

  My brother put his ripped arm over Aka’s shoulders. “Wait…you expect us to help you escape from a maximum security prison? How do you know we can even shoot?”

  I pointed at him accusingly. “Shut the hell up! I know you like guns as much as I do. Hell, I bet you money you’ve taken her to Hoover Tactical more than once.” Hoover Tactical had the best firing range and gun store in central Alabama. I then swung my finger in the direction of The Loner. “And you were probably in…” I tried to estimate his age, “World War…”

  He picked up the thread. “Actually, I was in the Guard during ‘Nam. They taught us how to shoot.”

  I nodded happily, now knowing that Tychus was not personal friends with Henry Ford and that he had the skills we were looking for.

  Easy looked away and mumbled, “Yeah, we went to Hoover Tactical a few times. Her favorite was the M16.”

  “Sounds like the start of a plan,” began The Expert. “We’ll case the main building and see what we can see after breakfast. We can fine tune the planning tonight.”

  The Oracle was already at the door, gesturing for us to line up and move. “Sko crackas, Imma get me some bacon and GRITS!”

  ☠☠☠

  20

  Casing

  THE SLEDGE WOMAN closed the door, following the other three newcomers out of the room. Warden Slice motioned for prisoners–citizen #263 and his bunkmate, to remain. She knew that Ezekiel Collins had a sibling among the four and hoped this would increase his productivity. “Good job in getting them here, 263. They will be safe and undoubtedly help grow our community.”

  If Mo has anything to say about it, we won’t be a part of your community in a couple of days. Easy smiled and tried to sound sincere. “Anything to further the community.”

  This young man really cared about the proletariat and she wanted to show him the rewards of a true statesman. “You and 264 here don’t have to rush to work today; you’ve earned a leisurely stroll. We have four new healthy sets of working hands, thanks to you.”

  He almost laughed as he thought: I would say only three of those sets are healthy, but instead he grinned as she patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Warden. I do what I can.”

  He and Aka were well away from the door when he felt they were out of hearing distance. He whispered, “The Fried Green Tomatoes lady told me to scope out the armory.” He paused, wondering why Kathy Bates assumed that he would have the opportunity to do so. Perhaps she had been listening to fat Chris Tucker. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal. You mind flirting with some of these stupid guards?”

  　☠☠☠

  Aka cornered some scrawny guard in the hallway and began seductively asking him to show her some “big guns.” After only a few minutes, the rent-a-cop was fumbling out his keys and basically ran to unlock a door. They entered a room lined with more assault rifles than the African beauty had ever seen in one place. The sexually deprived prison employee was near passing out each time she softly moaned as she brushed her hand over several guns. She was unaware of just how seductive she was. This guy had balls bluer than a peevie; she was afraid he would spontaneously combust if she got close to him.

  After only a few minutes inside the room, Aka slowly stood as she giggled, “Thanks for showing me all of this baby. Maybe we can come down here tomorrow and you can show me,” she smiled even wider and let her eyes trail down, “some even bigger toys.”

  He nodded vigorously as he followed her out of the room. “You bet, sweetheart! I’ll be waiting right here!”

  The ebony goddess rounded the corner as she tried to shake off her disgust. She knew it was necessary, but hated flirting with the creepy little guard. This better have been worth it. She nearly screamed when she was pinned between two thick arms. “That was so hot.” she didn’t know her future husband was a peeping Tom, like his big brother. “See? That wasn’t…hard. But I know what is!” She fought to control her laughter. He was just as weird as this Mo character and the nerdy little prison guard she had just tricked. Easy was glad to see that his fiancée was disgusted and asked, “Need a shower? I sure do!” She shrugged, figuring her job had earned her something, so Easy rushed her back to their ROOM.

  ☠☠☠

  21<
br />
  Lust

  SINCE DISCOVERING THE small remnant of the US military residing at this National Guard Armory, Sally Dick kept her legs perpetually spread for Captain Jonathan Bobbitt. No, she wasn’t some kind of nymphomaniac. She wasn’t giving him whatever he wanted out of personal lust, wasn’t remotely in love with him, nor did she throw herself on top of the man because he was a sexually irresistible monster. Sure, she enjoyed fucking, but she’d had better. Her reasons for keeping him overdosed on sex were much more rational. She was doing it for power. The secondary betrayer wasn’t planning a coup, but the clever harpy wouldn’t be distraught if he did somehow tragically die. She would happily make herself the queen of zombie land.

  Sally was aware throughout history that women were the real rulers behind their powerful men. Strong kings were often advised by their wives, and even if much of her time was spent on her knees, she would tolerate it. It goes without saying that preferential treatment can lead to greater opportunities and that takes extra effort. Sally was willing to put forth all the effort it required.

  Even if Bobbitt could see that Sally Dick was only acting as his concubine to become a protected principle, he would not be willing to give up his one pleasure out of some sense of honor or because of morals. It was almost impossible for men to put their job above pussy; Sally knew this and was willing to take advantage of their weakness.

  The other soldiers already treated her like royalty. They gave Bobbitt a knowing glance and a smile whenever they saw him. Soon she would have enough influence to give commands and with the partnership of that redneck truck driver, Bobbitt’s plans to infiltrate Guntersville should work out without a hitch.

  Something came to her mind about taking the next step to command before the attack on the island. The secondary betrayer was gaining power so fast, she decided her dear Jonathan wouldn’t be needed much longer. After all, her redneck was already in place. What was the phrase coined in Vietnam when a soldier threw a grenade at his commander?

  FRAGGING.

  ☠☠☠

  22

  Greed

  HIS MEN TALKED about what they thought was happening or about something that someone had told them they had heard from someone who had been on the island. It had the feeling of Zombieland, people hearing things from people that probably didn’t even exist. Bobbitt had nothing more than hearsay and rumors until his patchwork military company had come across Sally. Having been a resident of Guntersville just recently, she could actually give up to date reports on the island safe haven and the people that controlled the citizens.

  He had to admit that he was a bit envious of this Mayor Collins in his island fortress. The soon to be ousted warlord ruled over seemingly dozens, perhaps hundreds of people. He had secured multiplying livestock, and he had a cache of gold! It made Bobbitt’s mouth water just thinking about a steak; he had been eating nothing but MREs and scavenged cannedgoods for about a month.

  The first thing The Villain would do after capturing the island would be to eat a cow’s-worth of bloody meat. But the best part was the gold. He could imagine himself like a Saudi prince sitting on a golden throne. He had guns and he had the gold. People all thought he was part of the US government, and they would obey his commands, even if he had to slap some of them around. The Villain would gladly be violent to satisfy his greed. No matter what Sally said, he trusted that his men would be able to control the islanders.

  No matter how much the damn libertarians thought they were free, all people obey a powerful government. He knew that Sally hated those people and thought they were Nazis for flying Confederate flags, but he had to admit that–at least from what she told him–they were making things work. She might be stupid when it came to politics and willfully dependent on big brother, but she wasn’t stupid when it came to getting what she wanted. He knew that she was only fucking him to get protection, but he was okay with that; it was a fair price. Bobbitt had a woman that would do things he had not imagined were possible, a bunch of men with a bunch of guns that would follow him to hell, and he would soon have a bunch of mindless peons to control on top of a shitload of gold. He couldn’t wait for that radio message from Earl.

  There would probably be more than one casualty on his side, but the captain didn’t care. All that mattered was getting what he wanted, what he DESERVED.

  ☠☠☠

  23

  Anger

  SHE WAS SITTING behind the desk at Excelsior Comics, waiting for another customer to purchase another book, deck of playing cards, T-shirt, or even an action figure. Since moving in with Gene, Georgia had accepted gold, goods, and even the occasional pre-1965 dimes in exchange for various luxuries.

  She remembered calling Gene on the radio. She got his acceptance of the proposed payment, “pre-1965 dimes contain pure silver,” he told her, “they will work as tender.”

  After she had agreed to live with him, he found her lying in wait in his bed and he nearly fainted. She found his astonishment that she would consider him “her boyfriend” to be adorable. Georgia could actually see herself being with this nerdy little man for a lifetime. He would do anything for her, but her first choice would have been Daniel.

  She was still crazy for the man that was never coming back and it had to be someone’s fault he was gone. She would never let Gene into that part of her heart, the secret corner that always imagined Daniel in the bed beside her. She wondered if all widows felt this way and if she could ever heal. Not only did she miss him, she was angry he was gone. She needed to blame someone for her loss; someone had to pay. That crazy old State Senator was already dead; she needed a living person to hate. The bereaved widow could hate that fat black guy. What was his name? “Toker?” Smoky?” “Smoker?” It came to her: “Smokes!” He didn’t pull the trigger, but he’s the one that cemented the awful truth in her mind and she despised him for it.

  　　 　☠☠☠

  The man wearing the UNSC uniform was adamantly arguing with a member of the construction crew. He screamed, “I don’t give a flying frack, it is feasible!” he came back at every complaint. “Put a solid slant over it as a roof and you can mount the 50 on a steel pole in the middle of the craft.” Someone answered. He screamed, “I know this is just a bass boat but picture it as a PT boat! It will be very intimidating.” Then, “I don’t care what color you call it, you stupid piece of Bantha poodoo. Paint it Bird of Prey green!”

  Finally he’d had enough. “Oh yeah? Well your mother has a smooth forehead!”

  “But who are we trying to intimidate?” came back one of the workers.

  Gene tried to calm himself; anger leads to the dark side. Only someone who had received nearly more wedgies than was physically possible could understand the importance of showing strength even if you think no one is watching. “It doesn’t matter! The people living here need to believe that we can defend them. If they can see the photon torpedoes in the launch bay, it will just be one less thing for them to worry about.”

  The construction workers had been tasked with building this gunboat anyway, so this argument was pointless. Gene felt that he had finally convinced them that a strong defense is a good offense, whether the game was on the Xbox, PlayStation, tabletop, or an active war zone full of peevies.

  Island dwellers only used motorized transportation in the city when transporting something large, so he didn’t have to fight traffic on his moped, as he would have just a few months ago. The only other vehicles were bicycles and the occasional horse (or horse drawn carriage); he wondered why there were no other mopeds or even motorcycles in use.

  Whether or not they ever found someone to operate the hydroelectric dam, he could see that in the near future that he would have to get the traffic lights working when automobiles soon re-appeared. His Jedi training told him that the Force would open up a path.

  　☠☠☠

  He was shaken from his reverie by a transmission over the radio built into his helmet. “Gene, where are you?” Georgia asked f
rantically. “I need you to meet me at the clinic!”

  “What’s wrong, Princess?” He made sure to end almost every sentence like that and she found it endearing.

  “Hunter was playing on the playground over at the Methodist Church with some of the other kids. He fell and broke his arm! One of the parents called me on the radio and told me they were taking him to Dr. George’s!”

  “He’ll be okay, Imzadi. Do you need me to come get you?”

  “No, I got it. The mayor heard the radio transmission and he offered to give me a ride. Said he was going over there anyway.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in a few parsecs.” He tacked on one of his customary lines, “And may the Force be with you.”

  　☠☠☠

  “Tonight?” Randy asked.

  “Yes, a full moon means greater visibility for The Phantoms, meaning more likely success for the mission.” Dr. George was explaining to the mayor the details of the mission and what he could do to help. Randy knew of this NSG unit’s overall goals and would do what he could, especially if there was even a remote possibility of the virus being cured. A vaccine would be worth every cow left in existence.