Zombies On A Plane_Still Alive Book Three

by Javan Bonds

  The sun was shining down on us and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yadda, yadda. I was about to mention something of the anti-climactic-ness of our escape and how we had made it almost cartoonishly unscathed. Before I could open my mouth, a fat, blue naked man stepped out into the light. His face was covered in blood and gore; he was chowing down on an unidentifiable piece of sloppy meat. Man, I need to learn to shut the fuck up, careful what you wish for and all that, not even think things are going easy. The entire group stopped to stare at it.

  The monster nonchalantly went to town on its bounty with gusto. The blue cannibal realized it had an audience and stopped to look at us in kind.

  My first thought after seeing this creature was: “Santa Claus?” Even through the grotesque, bloody meat, it was obvious that the zombie’s beard and hair were white. This monster made Smokes look like a successful Jenny Craig customer and I noticed a thin coat of white fuzz all over its body. Is this something common? I have not seen this on the younger infected and I have not personally been close enough to an older adult to inspect its body hair. You know, I don’t like the prospect of being mauled and all of that. It would probably make this movie closer to PG if this thing's sheet of hair had been just a little bit thicker below the waist. Of course upon thinking that, I had to look down at Jolly old St. Peevie’s shriveled junk. Imagine a midget nudist living in Antarctica and you would have a close approximation to what hung before me. I would never again want anything for Christmas besides a mind wash.

  Other than it appeared the Blue Man Crew had just recruited a really fat senior citizen, the most noticeable aspect of Peevie Claus was his eyes: they weren’t a single yellow orb.

  Sure, the whites of the eyes still had a yellow tint to them, but unlike every undead I had seen since the beginning of armageddon, the pupils were visible and extra creepy. The pupils were a sickly yellow, the color of a healing bruise. The rest of the eye had the same neon flash as any other infected.

  I gazed up at the blazing sun with stupid amazement. The creature lifted its head from a dismembered morsel to follow my eyes.

  When it realized it was standing in direct sunlight, it dropped its stare back to us, cocked its head like a confused dog, screamed before dropping its meal and rushed at us. “What the–” my question was interrupted by the boom of Smokes’s shotgun. “Sko sko sko mufuckas!” We ran forward past the headless blue Santa-corpse, blood spraying into a pool where the cranium would normally be. Our “run” just became literally a fucking run.

  Are you shitting me? Was that just a one-time thing or can they all come out in the daytime now? Why the hell would they wait until this moment to discover sunlight was cool? We could have broken out of prison yesterday and at least then we would only have had to deal with human antagonists.

  My entire party began mowing down attacking peevies. I questioned the Oracle between shots. “What–the–fuck?”

  “Thangs change, cuz.”

  Yeah, but why? I had so many questions. This shit was like one of those video games that was impossible to beat. There were just no extra lives or cheat codes. God, I miss the Internet sometimes.

  Our true antagonists were everywhere. The evil humans had been nothing more than a slight diversion from the main plot. We were dropping ravenous zombies like flies, blue piles of shit covered, bloody, shrunken testicles surrounded us, moaning, angry, reaching for our yummy flesh. The Expert obviously carried endless supplies of ammo and was holding them back effectively. Maybe she has some of those cheat codes; perhaps she can spare a wall hack. All of us still remained a step away from the water; I managed not to drown myself in the rush.

  After what seemed like hours, we could see the lake open before us. There were dozens of cannibal nudists between us and safety. We began to move on alongside the shore and in the direction of Alex.

  This meant we only had to cover three directions. Why didn’t we just fucking swim, you ask? Well, for one thing I’m about as good at treading water as Gene. Plus, knowing my luck, the peevies would also spontaneously become Michael Phelps!

  We pushed ourselves inside the plane and I shuddered. “I think I have seen more penis today than any time in my entire life.” Aka glared at me with disgust, horrified that I used such language. As if I was the only one that noticed all of the nasty blue genitals bum-rushing us.

  Just as she turned away, she gasped and flung herself back. A blue twig and a set of blueberries suddenly hit and plastered themselves against the outside of the window right at her face. The cannibal nudists were lunging at the plane and trying to get in. Our painful deaths were nearly guaranteed.

  I was looking outside, wondering if we could take off with peevies (not pigs) climbing on the wing. Smokes was at my side but it could easily have been Samuel L Jackson. “Get these motherfucking zombies off my motherfucking plane!”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I really don’t know why I pick these fucking inopportune moments to see humor in things, but that was the perfect parody of a movie quote for the situation at hand. I shouted, “Everybody get to this side of the plane!”

  Somehow the small aircraft did not tip as my over weighty friend hefted his bulk against me. I would compare it to cradling a baby Godzilla. I wonder if his mother had to deal with this when he was a baby. It seemed to work as the peevies followed us on around the outside of the windows. The Expert was thinking on my wavelength again; she rushed to the other side and threw open the door. The Expert was watching and waiting for the undead to try and take advantage of this new opening. She sat there with a pistol in each hand, blowing each monster into the water as it came into her sites. With the right wing almost touching the water, the exploded gray matter and warm blood from the recently shot peevies poured down onto our disgusted huddle. Fortunately, the bulk of The Oracle basically shielded my entire body, so I was spared the majority of gore raining down on me. His left side was drenched in the offal of former humans. I promised myself I would not mention this to him; I really didn’t want to break his fragile resolve while he was controlling a plane we were in.

  For one thing, I didn’t think it was possible to fire dual pistols simultaneously, but I guess she proved MythBusters and physics wrong. I think I was the only other person in the plane that was hearing the theme song to Halo. Also, try to imagine being inside the drum set at a Def Leppard concert and you will have a pretty good idea of the stress that unloading two XD pistols in the cabin of a small plane puts on your eardrums. I was surprised not to see blood running out of anyone’s ears.

  Captain Sledge smiled, satisfied she had eliminated the tangos and caused irreparable damage to our cochlear nerves. As if she thought we were able to hear, she slammed the door before taking a seat in the back and began speaking. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  Smokes thankfully got out of my lap and it was amazing I did not have any broken bones or ruptured organs. The Oracle started the ignition, picking up speed as I waved goodbye to what looked like a Chippendale’s Chris Farley. We began lifting off as the herd of insane naked people tried to chase us from the shore.

  I already knew the truth, but The Oracle flew over the prison grounds so the others could see The Sacrifice. The Loner’s body lay in a pile of spent casings and a pool of his own blood, playing his final scene.

  He had obviously done his job or we would probably be dead from gunshots. It’s kinda depressing to realize that we are only alive now because of the roles assigned to us. Is that what they call survivor’s guilt?

  I tried to shake off the unsettling mix of doubt and understanding. The Oracle steered us in the direction of Guntersville to save the city. Maybe we would make it in time to save my mother and The Love Interest. It was too late for my father, but maybe I would definitely wreak some VENGEANCE.

  ☠☠☠

  37

  The Breakout

  JOHN POINTED DOWN to his left. “What are those people doing?”

  Herb and John were sitting in
the guard tower, expecting another easy day like usual. When John pointed to the group, Herb lifted his sniper rifle and scoped in on the people moving in the direction of the fence. After entirely too long of his staring at the black girl’s ass, John grunted. “Well?”

  “Oh. They have guns.”

  “Who the hell are they and why do they have guns?”

  Herb continued to keep an eye on the group, they seem to move with some kind of intent. John used his walkie-talkie to call up the Warden and ascertain why there were apparent civilians walking around with firearms.

  “The boss ain’t answering; just keep watching ‘em.”

  He tried the other tower; they had no idea who those people were. John reached for the bullhorn to call out to the armed people down below and Herb kept his aim on the redhead in front.

  He raised the horn to begin yelling as the woman in front lifted something small out of her pocket. Herb asked, “A grenade?”

  She tossed what looked like a baseball to the fence and three seconds later it exploded. The guards drew back in surprise; seconds passed before Herb thought to pull up the rifle, ready to fire.

  The woman drew another grenade and immediately tossed it at the second fence. The smoke had not even settled from the first explosion, she seemed in a hurry. “Fuck me!” John reached over to press the button that would sound the perimeter alarm.

  His partner was a millisecond away from pulling the trigger and stopping these maniacs as a projectile sunk into one side of his neck and exploded out the other.

  John was bathed in his partner’s blood, and was so shocked by the gory death beside him, he froze.

  It took him a second to realize what just happened before he slammed his hand down on the remote for the klaxon.

  Not thinking about where the bullet that just destroyed his friend had come from, he picked up the dropped rifle and began sighting in on the runners below. Before he got his aim, his brains were splattered on the desk beside him.

  The north guard tower was in disarray. They heard a couple of shots but had no clue of the escapees on the far side of the other tower. Greg and Mike were playing cards, taken by surprise when shots were fired and sirens started blaring.

  Mike yelled to be heard and pointed to the administration building. Once he realized there was a shooter on the roof, he quickly lowered to the floor as he spoke. “Shooter on top of main building!”

  Greg similarly lowered and pulled back the action to his sniper rifle. “I saw him! What the fuck is going on?”

  Mike started switching through the short band channels and could tell from the frantic screaming over the radio that the other employees were just as clueless. “Hell if I know! That fucker must have shot John and that other guy!”

  Greg had already assumed this and was planning to take out the gunman. He aimed at the general location of the sniper and quickly rose over the barrier to take the shot.

  　☠☠☠

  Tychus hit the ground, keeping his eye fixed on the guard with the rifle . He had taken out the other tower before either of the guards knew what was going on, but he was sure these two had been paying more attention. The old janitor knew he wasn’t going to make it off these grounds, but he was confident that the others had been given enough time to break through the fences. The wailing of the alarms steeled his resolve.

  Greg raised up from the floor cautiously, gun at the ready, planning to blow this lone gunman away. He shot up from his hiding place, his scope came into focus; he could see only the briefest darkening through the zoomed reticle.

  The Sacrifice watched the guard launch himself upright. Thankfully, he had not changed positions before exposing himself again and the stupid prison guard simply popped back into the crosshairs like a shooting gallery target.

  　☠☠☠

  Greg collapsed before he could get a shot off, killed instantly as the heavy caliber round crashed through his skull. His lifeless corpse faced Mike, the rifle with the destroyed scope flung to his other side. Mike could see a clean hole where his eye used to be; light from the hole at the back of his ruptured cranium streamed through the empty socket just before it began filling with blood. There was no way in hell he was going to try to take a shot at this marksman and decided the best course would be to crawl downstairs and hide until this was over.

  　☠☠☠

  Tychus knew the hostile remaining in the tower had retreated after a few seconds of watching nothing; it was that kind of delay. He would attempt to remain vigilant just in case someone took a shot at him from the tower, but he now felt safe to focus on the door leading to the roof. Now that they knew someone was up here, they would surely be coming with guns blazing.

  Two prison employees threw themselves out of the stairwell door without even looking first; all Tychus had to do was squeeze the trigger and his targets fell with ease, peppered with holes. The next assaulters were much slower and careful, opening the door first then ducking away. A shaking hand holding a pistol raised into his vision and The Sacrifice severed it with a 762. Screams from both men echoed in the hallway as the stump pulled back down and grew fainter as the new amputee and his partner ran for cover.

  His attackers were getting smarter; they tossed a smoke grenade to land in front of the door. With his loaded pistols and half a dozen magazines of rifle ammo, Tychus wasn’t afraid to send rounds at random intervals into the smoke. Hundreds of shell casings lay around him; no one had dared to fire back. On his second to last M14 mag, a voice called through the smoke. A shaken man asked, “What do you want?”

  They must have thought he was a disgruntled prisoner. He smiled and offered, “I just wanted to keep you busy.”

  This was Tychus’s final stand and he knew it, but damn if it wasn’t a blaze of glory. He had been a quiet, solitary janitor since leaving active duty all those years ago; as long as Hammer and the others made it home, his death would mean something. He smiled. He was going to give them all the time he could.“If you let me go, I’ll throw down my rifle and come out with hands up.” The Loner detested lying, but had to extend the game as long as possible.

  “You can go wherever you want.”

  The janitor audibly threw down his rifle and armed men began slowly walking through the smoke. One of them already had cuffs unclipped to detain him, he simply waited for them to get closer.

  There were three men less than a handful of feet from him and he pulled both pistols from his waistband. They could take him, but they wouldn’t take him ALIVE.

  ☠☠☠

  38

  Still The Villain

  “FINE, YOU CAN GO.”

  Sally squealed as she made her way into the lead Humvee. Bobbitt was confident she would not come to harm in an armed and armored convoy made up of their Humvee, an LATV, and three heavy personnel carriers. He didn’t want to argue with his only source of pussy, plus he just wanted to get a move on. The lead villain knew how much Sally despised her former overlords and neighbors; it couldn’t hurt to give her a front row seat to their invasion of the island. He decided this is what Marines had felt as they anticipated attacking Iwo Jima. The Captain could nearly picture a squadron of his men raising the Stars & Stripes over the corpses of these traitors.

  He was hoping to have found more armor over the past few weeks, something even heavier than their 40mm grenade launcher and chain guns.

  The Bradley tank that he had been forced to abandon in Douglas had disappeared–fucking hillbillies had probably taken it apart piece by piece and used it to make a moonshine still. This whole endeavor would have been less difficult if his mish-mashed company had stumbled upon an M1 Abrams. Bobbitt silently cursed himself for not sending some men to scout Fort McClellan in Anniston. Oh well, these inbreeds surely won’t stand a chance with their plastic Storm Trooper armor and a few bolt action rifles versus the chain fed mini-guns of the federal government. America would again be victorious over these stupid secessionists!

  Before the faintest hint of dawn st
arted to crest the horizon, The Villain readied himself for glorious battle. Bobbitt, Sally, thirty-two infantrymen, and a four-man SOF crew chugged away in their convoy of an LATV, Bobbitt’s personal Humvee, and three massive MRAPs to capture enemy territory.

  The line of armored vehicles came to a stop on the highway at the top of the mountain. The sniper team climbed out of the LATV, the two soldiers accompanying Bobbitt in his Humvee replaced them in their vehicle. The marksman team headed off to find a good vantage point from which to snipe as all five vehicles again began moving forward.

  The Captain was confused to see the jet-ski and pontoon moved away from the gap between the bridge and the causeway at the bottom of the mountain. He had thought Earl had earlier left it connected, but The Villain could see the gap had been un-bridged.

  He could also see a pair of desert camouflaged Humvees barricading the causeway on the other side of the small guardhouse.

  He quickly grabbed Sally’s shoulder and nearly threw her to the floor, he knew what this was. The captain shouted, “Get down!” He swerved to his left, driving behind a shopping center and a parking lot full of cars. As soon as he began to change direction, a couple of pockmarked spider webs appeared on the windshield.