by Joe McKinney
The stewardess was new. She didn’t smile much, but she did set up the few passengers with drinks early on. Come to think of it, where was she on the first flight? I guess the presence of additional people on the plane called for a stewardess.
She seemed nice and smiled whenever she passed my seat.
The only interesting part of getting on the plane was this hot girl that got on with this huge guy in a flower-print shirt. She was short but cute as all get out, with a figure to kill for. She had big perky boobs that poked out of a low-cut blouse. Her skirt was so short I got a glimpse of her upper thighs when she sat down. She laughed at the guy she was with.
A lot.
He must have been the funniest man in the world. Every time he said something to her, she cracked up like he was telling her the greatest joke in the world. He grinned back and wheezed like an asthmatic clown without the makeup.
They ordered drinks and that was that. A few more passengers got on, but for the most part, it was just me in the crap section and the rich snobs in the front.
I watched her from the back. She kept her attention on him, so I got to check her out every time she summoned the stewardess for more little bottles of booze. And she had to keep running to the bathroom.
At one point, the guy opened his bag and dug out a big gold bottle that looked like Cristal. I’m pretty sure that’s what the thing was. Asshole. He sucked it down like it was water. Probably has as much money as God, and with a hot chick like that at his side … I wish I could sit around and drink a two-hundred-dollar bottle of bubbly grape juice.
I guess I got part of my wish when SHE became my only companion. I think I would have settled for the booze.
It was about twenty minutes later when the plane bounced up and down a few times. I didn’t think it was a big deal until we started tilting forward. I’m no pilot, but I know a plane with its ass in the air is a bad thing.
I looked outside long enough to see the engine on the right side sputter, then spit smoke and bird feathers. Then it belched fire. Oh shit! Fire. Plane. Engine. This was not good, not good at all!
I can’t explain my next action. For the life of me, I don’t know what I was thinking.
I started tossing back alcohol like there was no tomorrow.
Come to think of it, there was no tomorrow! I guess if I couldn’t die screwing, I could settle for dying half drunk. So I guzzled cheap liquor and hoped it would hit my brain before we hit the water and exploded into a million pieces.
There was a lot of loud swearing from the front as the pilot tried to level out the plane, but no matter how many times he swore, we still hit the water. The noise was like dropping into hell. A half-second of silence and then screams from a woman. Looking back, I think it was ME screaming. Stuff flew everywhere, and I tasted salt water.
I think being in the back saved me. I remember when we struck. Then I blacked out. When I came to, I was spitting water and gasping for breath.
It was dark, almost night—guess I lost track of time. Smashing into the ocean will do that to you. I was still pretty buzzed and unsure if I had blacked out for an hour or a minute. I was holding on to my seat cushion, and there were plane parts all around me. I floated for a while and slowly sobered up. I called out again and again, “Are there any survivors?” but no one answered.
I floated for a long time and wondered if a shark was going to come along and eat my skinny white butt. I saw the beginning of Jaws over and over in my head.
The water was warm but not like a bathtub. It was more like a sink full of water that has been sitting around for a while. I wondered if I should be concerned about hypothermia. At least the seat was good at keeping me afloat—I bet I could’ve stayed on it for a week.
I was alone, in the dark, and I had no idea which way to go. I kicked my legs and hoped I was aiming for the nearest resort. I was sure they had those things as thick as McDonald’s restaurants in the tropics.
There were no sounds except the water that lapped against me as I swam.
The moon was barely visible behind a cloud. The cloud moved on, but another one took its place. I picked the moon as my new destination and kicked some more.
I’ve never had so much exercise in my life. Kicking, kicking and more kicking. I bobbed like a top even as I tried to push forward. I couldn’t tell if I was making any progress at all. It was all float, swim, float, swim, float, swim until my legs felt like they were stuck in Jell-O.
I floated like this for hours and even closed my eyes a couple of times. Didn’t help much. As soon as I felt like I was drifting off, water would wake me or the stuff would go into my ear.
Eventually, I hung in the sea like a corpse. I bet my skin looked like a prune. My balls were shriveled up and felt like they had retreated inside my gut. I had to wonder how long I could live like this. Then, to my complete and utter surprise, my feet touched sand. At first I jerked them up, because I thought it was a fish or a shark underneath me. Then I looked up and saw familiar shapes.
Trees!
I touched the bottom again and walked forward until I found the shore. I wept in relief and then threw up about thirty times. Old food, burning booze and seawater made a disgusting afterbirth.
I dragged myself up and out of the water and then along the beach, collapsed against a plant of some sort and then crashed hard. Like I said the first day: Screw you, paradise!
When I got tired of talking to the girl, I walked back to the wood and stacked it up again. I don’t know how I will light the fire when I see a plane or boat. Probably have to use my shirt. Or her clothes.
That might not look right. Stuck on the island and I burn the girl’s clothes instead of mine. Still, with that body, even the gray skin … I mean she was hot a day ago …
Holy shit—I am losing it!
She crawled across the sand, following me as I built up the woodpile again. She was just about the most disgusting dog that has ever followed me.
I felt bad about the bugs, so I sat on her back. I had to cock her head to the side and lean on it with my knee. Big-time wrestlers got nothing on my zombie-hold. I used the sharp end of a shell to dig out the eggs.
Some had started to hatch, so I took them back to the camp and held the shell near the fire until they were black. I figured if I cooked the hell out of them, it would destroy whatever zombie virus might be hiding in them.
I stared at them for a long time. They grew cold to the touch, but every time I held them to my lips, I couldn’t do the deed.
Finally I decided to suck it up and become a survivor. I closed my eyes and dumped the whole blackened mess into my mouth.
They tasted so bad that I almost threw up. I couldn’t even swallow them. I spit the horrid things out and then freaked because of the virus. What was I thinking? There was no telling how it spread. Now I would have to sit around and worry about turning into her. Her without awesome boobs.
I washed my mouth out with some water and sand and then headed to the beach.
The spear theory turned out to be shit. Caught a whole bunch of nothing. While I was staring at the water, waiting for a fin to show itself, I noticed a few little bubbles rising. Stuck my head under the water and looked around until I spotted a gray-and-black shell. Oysters! I found three and cooked them until they opened. Each had a tiny pearl, which I set aside. Then I gobbled the meat down like it was a T-bone. I never cared much for shellfish, but these had me back in the ocean looking for more so fast it would make your head spin.
I spent the afternoon collecting more of the little treasures. While I was ass up in the water, I heard a noise behind me. I spun around and caught a glimpse of grey—though shapely—legs. The rest of her was underwater! Oh God, she was going to drown!
I grabbed her ankle, dragged her out, and flipped her over.
Her face was blue, and water gurgled out of her mouth and nose. Her white dried-up eye didn’t look much better when it was wet. Her one good blue eye followed my movement as I dropped down a
nd pressed on her chest with both hands. Water squirted out in a geyser, and I was stupidly in the line of fire. Blech!
She groan-gurgled a mouthful. When I lifted my hands from her chest, the water was sucked back into her mouth.
She snarled, but I pressed again. This time, I got the hell out of the way. See, I can learn.
“I’m not trying to get it on with you!” I complained when she took a snap at me.
She answered with a fresh gurgling groan. I dragged her to a big log and lifted her off the ground. I was simply too tired for this, so I dumped her, ass up, over the log and left her to drain.
No worse for wear, I took my oysters back to camp. Stoked up the fire and cooked them just like the others. Then I burned my fingers and mouth trying to get at the meat. I saved the pearls again. Maybe I’ll make her a necklace. That will look good when the rescuers arrive; they’ll see that I took good care of her. Plus I could use it as an apology for all the abuse. Yeah, chicks dig jewelry, right?
It’s getting late, so I guess I’ll go to sleep. Tomorrow, I plan to make a rope and tie her to something.
I can still hear her flopping around on the beach. I hope she doesn’t figure out how to stand up in the night. Crap, I better go check the barricade again.
Day 6
My Girlfriend likes to be Tied up
Woke to the sound of an airplane overhead.
I flew off my palm leaf mattress, stood up and took two stumbling steps before I tripped over her. She must have spent all night wiggling around the little barricade. If I had slept another half-hour, she would have had me. One bite and then we would be the perfect zombie couple. They’d find us and name us Dumb and Dumber.
I reared back to kick her, but she turned her head and looked at me with that one good eye. It was just as blue as a summer day and I felt—well, I felt a sense of pity for her undead ass.
Note to self: Make a damn rope and tie her to something.
So the plane (Dee Plane, Dee Plane) flew overheard, and I was jumping up and down like a maniac, screaming at the sky like I was the retard instead of her. I ran for the firewood, but she had scattered it all over the place in the night.
All right, now she is just fucking with me!
The plane flew off into the distance, and it was suddenly quiet again except for my stomach, which decided to growl like a chainsaw. I guessed I’d start with some high-fiber fruit and then try to dig up some oysters later. There was a weird blob of fish that looked like a big limp penis in the shallow water. I don’t know if I can cook it, but what the hell, beats starving to death.
I built up the wood stack again and stomped around, generally miserable. She hissed at me every time I went past her, but that’s okay. She can’t figure out how to stand up and give chase. I scowled at her, and she looked at me with that blank stare. Her gums look a little black today, and her teeth are turning green. I should bring some clean water and try to scrub her down.
That reminds me, she smells like death. Well, what I’m guessing death would smell like. It’s kind of like the smell of meat left out too long. I wonder how long until I run out of food and she starts looking like a steak.
“Want anything while I’m at the stream?” I asked her. She moaned and hissed again.
“Fine, no fruit for you.” I smacked her ass as I strolled away. Showed her ...
There seemed to be more water today. I should really follow the stream and find out where it leads. Maybe I am on the back end of some tropical getaway, lost and starving while some rich assholes are just living it up on the other side of the island. Maybe they have mai-tais, grilled steaks, French fries! Oh my God, I need some real food. On my way back, I looked all around for something to use as a rope. There were no vines hanging from the trees, just a bunch of huge leaves. I tore some down and tested how flexible they were. Wound one up and pulled on it. Then I took down another one and wound them together.
Never took basket weaving, never was a Boy Scout, and I never joined the Navy, although I learned how to crochet as a kid. That lonely summer when Grandmother taught me. You don’t let your grandmother down, Diary, you just don’t.
I collected a pile of leaves and carried them back. Found a pretty red flower growing in the shade of a palm tree and added it to my pile. If nothing else, I should be able to decorate my living space.
I got back and found she had crawled into my little sleeping area and made a mess of it. That would take a while to fix. Okay, enough of this. I sat on the other side of the barricade that wasn’t really much of a fence. I worked the branches back and forth to keep the fence in place, but if she ever goes at it with any force, she will break through it in a few minutes. I’m glad she isn’t that motivated.
I plopped down on the other side of the fence, and she started crawling toward me again. It’s like she doesn’t get how her arms can help her move; she just slithers like a big gray snake. I had plenty of time before she got near me. Her good eye is so dry … Wish she would blink it from time to time.
I should bring some water back for her so I can wet it. If I can cover her mouth, she might be more cooperative. At least she won’t be able to bite me.
I worked on my rope for a few hours and ate the fruit I left out to dry last night. A few small bugs on one meant some extra protein, even though I wanted to puke every time I chewed. I made a game out of how fast I could eat them. I grabbed a bunch of those little hopping sand fleas and shoved them into my mouth just as fast as I could. I found that if I got them in the back of my throat fast enough, I could just swallow and pretend they were raisins.
When I finished the rope, I found it was pretty strong. I yanked on the thing and then stood up and put my foot on one end against the ground and pulled. Looked like it would hold up nicely, at least until it dried out and fell apart.
I dropped onto her back and tried to ignore the smell. Jesus! I hadn’t needed my shirt thanks to the heat, so I tore off the bottom. It took a few tries to get the cloth around her neck and into her mouth without getting bitten.
Gagged, she was, for now, somewhat harmless. I lifted her to her feet and watched her try to keep her balance. She snarled and snapped at me over the cloth. I looped the rope around her throat and set off with her close behind, only she didn’t take well to her leash and fell flat on her face when I pulled too hard.
Oops.
I had to wrestle her stinky ass back on her feet again and decided to tie the rope around her waist instead.
With the first tug, she nearly fell again. Then I got an idea.
I let the slack out and moved to the end of the slack. She raised her arms toward me and moaned under her muffled gag, then stumbled after me. Can’t believe I have to play follow the leader.
I lead her to the stream, to the end away from where I like to bathe and gather water. Then came the delicate art of removing her clothes while she batted and snarled at me. She was wearing a really frilly white bra that spilled out a large pair of breasts when I tugged it down. Well good for her!
Too bad they are as cold as ice and mottled gray.
The rest of her clothes came off. I tossed her panties, because they were just nasty. I don’t even want to think about what they looked like, let alone write about it. Oh God. Cleaning down there should have been fun, but I just wanted to throw up.
She kept turning as I bathed her, doing the bob-and-snap dance. I washed her down with her silky shirt before putting it back on her. It’s see-through and helps offset the color of her skin. Her skirt went back on and hung limply around her waist, making a wet slapping noise as I led her back to camp.
I think I am getting used to being hungry, the constant gnawing ache. Sometimes my skin feels cold and clammy, even though the weather is hot and muggy. I saw a bird rifling through my stuff when I got back, but I was too slow to get him. I picked up a rock and threw it like I was aiming for home plate. It flew under him as he soared into the sky with a squawk.
I bet he would have tasted like chicken.<
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Tomorrow, I will try to build a snare. Maybe I can have a little KFC. I wonder how I will build a snare. Jesus. I don’t even know what a snare looks like.
I tied her to a tree and went oyster diving again. Found one of those long things that looks like a penis hanging out of a shell. It smelled terrible. but I’m gonna cook it in some coconut milk in the shell. Maybe I can choke it down.
When I got out of the water, I saw that she had managed to wrap herself around the tree so she was facing it, rope tight around her body. It took a while to get her untied. One of the starfish I pulled out tried to get away while I worked at her rope. But it only got about three inches. I tossed it on the fire with a grin.
It’s late, and I can barely keep my eyes open. The fire is stoked up nice and high. She doesn’t sleep, but I thought it would be nice to give her a little freedom, so I left the knot on the tree loose. Now she is walking in circles. Her clothes look clean, and her hair is actually nice tonight, not too badly matted. Put the red flower behind her ear, but now it is just hanging there, limp and dead.
She is like a little zombie carousel. Just watching her makes me sleepy. Round and round she goes; if she manages to get loose, away I’ll go.
Day 7
My Girlfriend Likes To Get Wet
Today it rained.
All. Goddamn. Day.
She stared up at the sky for hours as water washed over her body. It turned that shirt transparent again, leaving her breasts looking pretty much like a normal chick’s. I just pretended like she was alive. It was nice to get some relief, so to speak.
Huddled under the lean-to for hours and hours. I talked to her, which is just like talking to myself, since it is one sided. I don’t think about it like that. She is human, or was, so I can justify it in my mind.