Zombies On A Plane_Still Alive Book Three

by Javan Bonds

  I started detailing our plan of escape to my father. I was constantly interrupted by the entire delegation.

  “And then I’ll go down to deal with the guard.”

  “We’ll use He-Man’s face scrubs as an accelerant.”

  “I’ll lay down cover fire.”

  “I’ll keep the guard busy.”

  “Den I’m a fly dese peoples back.”

  He waited until he received only silence, then my father came back, “Well that sounds pretty in-depth. I’m not there so I can’t really suggest anything. Just give me a buzz when you get to the plane.”

  This plan had nearly as many holes as did our first leisurely stroll through no man’s land for condiments. You could also compare it to our severely retarded decision to casually enter a Walmart that could have been teaming with sexually deprived sadists. Our earlier journeys through hell had amazingly worked out, so my dad was clearly putting his trust in The Oracle. Trusting the lives of his children to a drug dealer that would sell our souls for a Twinkie. Putting his faith in a person that was willing to risk more than one life for ketchup, believing we were safe if The Oracle approved of our plan. Let me reiterate again, he was willing to accept a poorly thought escape and decided his offspring could not be harmed because a guy with marijuana leaf decals on his purple Escalade was with us! I feel so loved.

  Mama could be heard approaching the other end of the radio to say a few things to us. Does it really surprise you that she was eager to speak to us on our second and third night only after Easy was found?

  Anyway, she was heard coming into the room, excited. She was moving closer, “Oh, let me talk to–” just then she belted out a deafening banshee scream. She continued as if she had not just nearly brown-noted every person within a mile radius. “Them.”

  My eyes grew wide, initially fearing it was the last exclamation of a person stabbed repeatedly, though I knew what it was, a normal occurrence in the Collins home…she sneezed. Whenever I sneeze, everyone around me has several seconds warning and I have to hold on to something or I will blow myself over. I remember sitting in English class in high school and turning my head to sneeze, it hit Jenna in the face on the other side of the room, proving I’m a mouth-sneezer. But Easy is just as guilty as our mother. You could be in the middle of a conversation with them and they give no warning; their speech just suddenly explodes with a sound similar to that of a cat being run over by a speeding lawnmower. I’m just thankful my dad was only a year or two too young to have been drafted in Vietnam, otherwise my mother’s sneezes would surely trigger Agent Orange flashbacks and we would have all been murdered more than once years ago.

  I know he jumped; everyone does when she sneezes like that, but I didn’t hear him fall to the floor dead from a heart attack. She hadn’t actually managed to scare the life out of him yet. He handed over the radio and she began with her usual motherly questions.

  　☠☠☠

  I had not expected my brother to give her the full story on Aka, how they were engaged, that is, but he did. Of course my mother was thrilled and couldn’t wait to meet her future daughter-in-law. We made sure to inform my dad that my brother’s Zambian fiancée was confident she could run a hydroelectric dam, or at least switch it on. He surely thought it was divine providence foretold by Smokes and handed to us by George Romero or something.

  He casually hinted that we had come to the end of our conversation. He was clearly not worried that we could be riddled with bullets or raped by peevies by this time tomorrow. “Well, those special forces fellas should be headed out here soon and the doc ought to be calling, so…”

  I picked up. “All right, Daddy. I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow when we make it to the plane. Tell Mama and Sarah–”

  My perfect brother loudly interrupted, “I love you, Mama!”

  Dammit, he has always loved to steal my thunder. I might have asked to speak to Sarah; this would have been a perfect time to finally admit my undying, romantic love for her but he just beat down my opportunity. I could be horribly maimed and killed tomorrow. What if this is the last conversation I will ever have with my parents? My last transmission was interrupted by my polar opposite sibling.

  “Ha ha…she heard you, son. Gray Fox out.”

  Thanks, EASY!

  ☠☠☠

  27

  Treachery

  BOBBITT SEEMED WILLING to go at Earl’s pace, which was fine with The Betrayer, though he was almost shocked that the military man was not falling over himself to get on the island before they got more organized with their defenses. Right now they were ripe for the picking.

  Earl spent all day detailing the movements of the guards on the South Causeway, fishing and working in several of the community gardens so that he could eat. This was not some type of hippie commune where everything was free; if you ate out of the community pot, you contributed. He didn’t mind that; earning what you got was how the world worked, in general. This sanctuary would actually be an okay place to live if that redheaded cunt was not one of the bosses. He had learned that the evil lesbo was the town sheriff, but was currently on indefinite leave. He was hoping she’d get back in time for him to personally slit her throat.

  He had looked around Bottom Dollar and decided that the building was buttoned up pretty tight, no easy way to break in. Burning that place to the ground wasn’t really a priority and he would shed no tears, it wasn’t a big deal. If Hammer was here, he would make sure to burn the place down with her alive inside, but for now he had to focus on the bridge guards.

  　☠☠☠

  It was nearing the end of his second day of “looking for a job” to become a productive member of society. Earl sat on the Best Western dock and dropped a un-baited hook into the water, watching the sun set behind the mountains. It took hours for everything to die down. Even with such a small population, the island seemed to be as active as a pre-apocalypse city. Finally, the only sound that could be heard was the occasional laugh or cough from the two men on the bridge. Just as he had practiced, he crouched along the shoreline and stayed on the outer edge of the causeway, the aluminum railing between him and the road. Earl made sure to keep his feet from crunching on the loose gravel.

  When The Betrayer neared the gap in the causeway, where he was basically even with the guard shack on the other side of the railing, he sat down to wait as he came to the waterline.

  He knew that eventually, one of the two armored men would need to take a piss break. The former truck driver had originally considered acting injured at the end of the causeway and calling for help. That idea was discarded because it would be two on one and they always wore their helmets outside of the shack. This practice was so routine for them, he only knew that they were un-helmeted inside the shack because he had seen them snapping their head covers as they exited.

  With one suit of armor taking a leak and probably without a walkie-talkie, Earl could sneak into the shack, terminate the unsuspecting astronaut, silently and quickly. Even if his buddy was alerted, he could not radio for backup and wouldn’t likely go running with his dick hanging out. It had to take some time to get everything back into one of those suits. The radios inside the small building buzzed and a short conversation could be heard.

  An Indian voice sounded over the radio. “This is Foxtrot Niner Mike. Humvee approaching South Causeway. Please bridge the gap so we may cross. Out.”

  One of the soldiers called back, “Roger Roger.”

  One man exited the guard shack and walked across the pavement. This might be his chance. He began to breathe deeply as he readied his knife. The armored guard jumped the rail to get to the jet ski.

  The heavy boots landed on the gravel on the other side of the causeway. Earl quickly slid closer to the water in case he needed to escape. The Betrayer heard the jet-ski start and nearly shit his pants.

  Are they really bridging the gap now? Crap! Earl had no idea what was happening. He lowered himself into the water without a sound. The jet ski came th
rough the gap and turned to stop just beyond him. The former truck driver willed himself into invisibility as the guard killed the engine. Head just above the water, Earl could hear the rumble of an approaching vehicle.

  He watched as a boxy automobile zoomed by, bounced across the pontoon bridge, and disappeared into the night. He could do nothing but guess what reason anyone would have to go out at night unless they were looking for trouble. He was so completely deep in thought he did not even register the guard pulling the pontoon away from the road, stopping the jet-ski again, and jumping back to land.

  Earl was shaken from his stupor as the two watchmen broke into conversation inside the guard shack. He mentally kicked himself for being so easily distracted, trying to push theories and ideas of why anyone would willingly leave the island at night from his mind.

  All he had to do now was wait for some of that instant coffee he knew the guards were drinking to take effect. Eventually, one of them would be making a pit stop.

  　☠☠☠

  Finally the guard armored in white snapped his helmet on as he hustled to the edge of the causeway and started fumbling with his crotch. The former truck driver smiled as he quietly hefted himself over the railing and onto the pavement. He knew that all men felt that pain and had at one point, for one reason or another, had the same battle with their zippers. He crouched, drawing his large knife as he peeked into the surprisingly well-lit guard shack to see that, thankfully, the soldier in red armor was facing the rear of the building. The man was apparently shuffling a deck of cards.

  As he took a crouched step towards the guard, a board creaked under his foot. The guard assumed his compatriot had returned. He called without turning, “Did you find it? I figured out that you can leave the top buckle fastened when–” Earl ended the man’s explanation with a cupped hand over his mouth and a Bowie knife across his throat.

  Dark red blood coated the inside of the shack, spraying like a faucet from the open aorta. The man went slack; Earl let the body slump to the floor as his life spilled down the front of his suit. Even before the body stopped pouring blood everywhere, Earl began stripping the warm corpse of its red armor. As he suited up, The Betrayer found it funny; the sticky fluid was clearly visible against the Crimson steel.

  　☠☠☠

  “Got your helmet on, huh?” questioned the returning guard. He unsnapped his own as he made his way around the table.

  This unobservant fuck didn’t even notice his blood soaked comrade crumpled in the corner to his right. He deserves what I’m about to do to him. Earl turned to face the un-helmeted guard, whose eyes grew wide. Before noticing the knife, he asked the helmeted figure, “Lee! Are you bleeding or something?”

  The Betrayer took a step forward and slashed the standing guard’s throat open with one quick motion. The razor sharp blade split his throat with no resistance. The guard could do nothing but gurgle as he collapsed and clutched at his throat. Rapidly flowing crimson slowed along with his heartbeat.

  Earl was amazed at how easy it all was; it had to be fate that they were meant to take over the island. That stupid bitch deserved to feel a real man give it to her before she was disemboweled. She was going to have a hell of a “welcome home” surprise.

  The walkie-talkie lay on the table behind him. It buzzed with what sounded like a Quickie Mart employee. “This is Foxtrot Niner, Mike. We have completed our current mission and are returning to the island. Please bring the bridge around. Over.”

  Shit, Earl thought. I hate to give the defenders even more troops, but I don’t want to set off any alarms by ignoring the call. He uncovered his face and spoke quickly into the radio, “Roger Roger! Out.” Earl dropped his helmet back down and hurried outside to move the pontoon attached to the jet-ski. Once the vehicle had bounced onto the island side, he left the gap bridged.

  Now he didn’t feel rushed and sauntered back to the guardhouse. The Betrayer casually informed the captain of his progress. “Hey, Bobbitt, the way’s clear whenever you feel like coming.”

  They had discussed that the main attack would not begin until sunrise. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t in a rush. With confirmation from the other end of the radio, Earl headed to his next objective.

  If any peevies were to wander across the connecting bridge, it could only help by adding to the chaos he was hoping to create. Earl had also discussed this part of the plan with the captain; without the mayor, the Islanders would have even more trouble rallying. Cut the dumbass hillbilly head off the snake and the rest of it will be pretty easy to take down. Treachery was Earl Buckalew’s favorite sin–it always paid OFF.

  28

  Under Observation

  “THE BRIDGE WAS in place as we reached it so we just slowed down and bounced on over,” The Phantom began his report. “We drove a few hundred meters past the mouth of the causeway and found the designated spot in the gas bank parking lot. The Humvee stopped in the corner of the lot and we were met by complete silence. The young bull put up no struggle as I walked it a distance in front of the vehicle’s lights, luring the animal with a large container of feed. I secured the bull to a light pole and stepped back to watch and wait.”

  The man cleared his throat and looked at his teammates. “Mahatma manned the mounted 50, Rajesh and I watched the flanks with our rifles, and Sanjay waited with a net gun. Animal howls and shrieks could be heard intensifying as the predators drew closer; these sounds were obviously not from coyotes or other identifiable local fauna.

  Figures began to appear in my night vision monocular; definitely bipedal. We confirmed them as our targets. They became progressively aroused as they drew closer to fresh prey.”

  He paused to control a shudder, swallowing hard. “It was more than a little frightening to watch animals, beasts, that had been people not that long ago snarling, hissing, and growling as they formed a semicircle around the calf. The squad decided via radio that our subject for capture would be a small male, a child, near the far left of the line. With a final radio click, Mahatma began opening fire from right to left, mowing down the infected as they barked and screamed in confusion.”

  The Phantom closed his eyes, remembering the slaughter, but continued his report.”Rajesh flipped the headlights on; the infected were so driven by bloodlust and hunger that they attempted to dodge the flying bullets and continued to press forward to their meal. The dozen or so had quickly been cut down to three, and we began hammering the two others with small arms fire. Sanjay simultaneously lined up to trap our chosen afflicted. The former human, err, boy, lunged for the defenseless bovine, getting its last meal before being imprisoned.”

  He looked at the ground, considered his words, then continued. “It was a terrible waste, but the risk of spreading sickness through tainted meat was too great. I put a single bullet through the calf’s brain. Three of us quickly exited the vehicle and began the tedious task of getting the entangled plague victim into the back of the Humvee.”

  Randy guessed this had to be Kumar. It actually wasn’t entirely impossible to tell The Phantoms apart after spending some time around them. “Well,” he said, “I’m just glad none of y’all got hurt and got back with the peevie. Where’s it at?”

  The hit gestured, “Follow me, it’s sedated and secured.”

  The mayor wasn’t afraid for his own safety, but he knew to be cautious. As he walked down the hall, he thought about how he had just seen one zombie cause the destruction of more than one supposedly safe community in way too many movies.

  The door flew open and the mayor immediately double-checked. “It’s tied down and sedated right?”

  Dr. George smiled, “And there are four operators with assault rifles at the ready.” The Medicine Man was confident that there was no chance their subject would make it out of this room. Even though the confidence of millions of others in history and fiction had led to their demise, he was sure this thing could go nowhere.

  A pale blue, filthy, completely naked young man lay strapped to the table b
efore them. Every person in the room could barely tear their eyes from the form, you could compare them to children in a biology lab intently studying a live insect with a pin through it. The blue tint to its skin appeared almost gray, and Randy nearly asked if that was normal for all of them. He silently chuckled. Being from Alabama he compared this to a blue cow; upon closer inspection it was easy to see that the cow was not actually blue but grayish.

  The doctor had it hooked up to an EKG machine and was monitoring its other vitals. He had already taken a urine sample for testing; being out in the elements, it had to be full of infections. Lying quietly, it appeared to be nothing more than a bluish teenage boy. But the team all knew that they could not make the mistake of thinking of this monster as an innocent, diseased human.

  The pulse was somewhat erratic, but living outside on a diet of raw meat could cause this; the cardiologist saw no need to worry about its immediate demise. Even the genitalia appeared completely normal besides the discoloration. He tried to push thoughts of dissection from his mind, he needed a living research subject for as long as possible.

  Randy wasn’t really sure what to do. He asked, “So what now?”

  “We will keep this room blocked off and I will do some tests with UV light when it wakes up. I can devise useful tests to perform on it for the rest of its life.”

  “Do you think you can get a cure or vaccine or something out of it?”