Ultimate Undead Collection: The Zombie Apocalypse Best Sellers Boxed Set (10 Books)

by Joe McKinney

  I went back at him with the sharp rock. I was glad that he had dried out a little bit, but he was still far from a regular stiff. His upper body was probably a hundred and twenty-five pounds. How the hell was I going to move it? I would have to slice it open. God!

  She sat on the ground and stared at me with that blank look. I walked over, ran my hand through her hair, and told her she was still beautiful to me. She showed her broken teeth around the gag. She snarled, growled, moaned, and did her usual “I want to eat you” stare with her pretty blue eye. I cleaned out a couple of bug eggs from her dried eye and smashed them on the ground.

  I helped her to her feet, took the log off her lap and let her stretch her legs a bit. She stumbled around in a circle, then went to her husband. She dropped down beside his torso and leaned over to bite him. I shuddered, pulled her off, marched her to the tree, and tied her up again while she fussed at me. I went back, grabbed his leg and dragged it behind me as I headed for the beach. I was hoping some great idea would hit me if I started walking, and hit me it did.

  I had been looking in the wrong direction, which was down. I should have been looking up. Of course. Up!

  I dragged the leg to a tree and looped the nasty thing over my shoulder. It was like carrying a mass of meat that reeked of rotten fish. It dripped and oozed congealed blood. I tried not to gag as I grabbed hold of a branch and tugged myself up. I got one foot on another branch and was soon a few feet off the ground. When I was about fifteen feet up, I maneuvered the leg so it hung over a large branch.

  She couldn’t reach that, not in a million years. I went back for the other leg and put it in another tree. This one was easier, because it still had a shoe on, so I had a way to tie the thing to a branch. It actually stretched between two branches.

  The arm went in another tree, but now I had the torso and head to deal with. I took the rock and went to work on his fat neck. It reminded me of videos where guys are cutting off whale blubber. Each shallow cut separated some flesh, which was white and puckered.

  I pushed his body to roll him over and realized that the head wasn’t that heavy. Didn’t even want to think about what I had to do. I wanted to go fishing, hunt, find some food and then rest for the whole day. My body hurt everywhere from the battle yesterday, and I wanted to sleep.

  I sighed and set the rock against his gut, just under his ribcage, and pushed hard. A terrible noise came out like a long, nasty fart as trapped air escaped from the wound. I fell back as stuff squirted out. The smell was horrendous. I backed away like a crab, my feet kicking at the sand until I ran into her and she tried to sink her teeth into my shoulder. Idiot. She still had her gag on. I jumped to my feet and shook my finger at her.

  No!

  This was getting messy. There were already chunks of him all over the place, and now a river of pink water was leaking onto the sand. I decided to move him close to the water so I could work and have the tide clean up the mess later.

  I dragged him, which wasn’t easy, since I had already removed his legs and arm. It left a line of gore behind him, but there was nothing to be done about it. I would have to move that sand around to clean it up. The rock knife was slippery in my hand, so I rubbed it in sand and started cutting again.

  It took about an hour to get through his gut, but in the end, I got it separated into two halves. I would go through the ribcage and slice him sideways, but it was too hard to cut through all that bone.

  His guts were the worst. They were a putrid gray color with hardly any blood—just lots of water. I dug out his intestines and the rest of his organs and stuff that fell out, loaded those into one of the suitcases and hauled it away to dump in the woods. The bottom of the torso went into another bag, and I dragged it away as well. Now I just had his upper body to deal with.

  Good Christ. Was it Miller time yet?

  One of the bags that washed up had turned out to be a very nice backpack. I loaded his upper half into it, then strapped it on. All kinds of stuff squished together and then fell out of the bag as I adjusted it. I gathered up the parts and put them back in. Staggered forward as the weight shifted, but then I straightened up and was able to move with him back there.

  I went back to the trees and found a nice thick one to climb. I went up about twenty feet and then slid out of the backpack. I fixed it to a pair of branches so he would have a nice view of the water as it came in and out. I made my way down the tree, then went to the beach and bathed in the surf.

  I was exhausted, but I had to eat. I waded out and dug up some oysters. I got five of them—wow. I chased a crab and took my feast back to the camp. After a night and a day, the fire was down to almost nothing. She watched me as I stoked it back up, but she didn’t say anything. I had to move the little palm tree wall in front so the flames wouldn’t freak her out.

  After a few minutes of silence, I decided to say something first.

  “I’m sorry about your husband. I think he has a good view now.”

  She snarled back at me.

  “I didn’t mean to, you know. It was an accident. I just wanted to get him worn out, then tie him to something. You like it, why wouldn’t he?”

  She moaned at me.

  “It was nothing personal. I bet he was a nice guy and all. He was rich, right? A girl like you would be with a rich guy. Not some dork like me.” I smiled. This is the part where the girl says, “You’re all I need. I don’t care about money, cars and jewelry. I just care about you.” Then you take her to bed for like a whole weekend. The only place I was taking her was to test as an anchor if she pissed me off again.

  She growled at me.

  “We’re better off without him. We don’t need him messing up our relationship, right?”

  Moan.

  “Just you and me, baby. Just you and me.”

  I broke out the rum and drank half the bottle.

  Day 22

  My girlfriend is a Dirty Pirate

  Yesterday, I was concerned about leaving the husband’s blood everywhere. Would it do anything bad to animals or sea creatures? I found a crab this morning. Quick little bastard that tried to snap me a few times. Snapping. I’m used to that after three weeks on a deserted island with a freaking zombie.

  God—I should just kill her and get it over with. Then bury the body and kiss my million-dollar book deal goodbye. I’ll never get on CNN if I off her. I might get a mention when they find her body, but it won’t be the kind of mention I want.

  Maybe I should find a different place for her husband’s parts. I guess I can try finding a soft spot in the jungle to bury him.

  I took my prize to a little arena I had built. When I was a kid, we lived near the water. Sometimes, we would get crabs worked up and put them in a little arena to fight. I had the same idea here, except he would be fighting the zombie disease. And if it caught it, I would just smoosh the little bastard.

  I had a few chunks of her husband’s blood and flesh in the place, just tiny bits of it. The plan was to put the crab in and wait for him to eat some. I don’t know if a zombie crab would even freak me out. I’ve seen enough crazy shit in the last three weeks to last a lifetime.

  The crab marched around in circles, but he wasn’t interested in the blood and bits of goo. I picked some up and tried to feed him, but he fought back by latching onto one of my thumbs. Ouch! I shook him loose and almost tossed him on the fire right then and there.

  I grabbed a stick and let him latch onto that with one claw, then moved it so he could get his other claw on it. Holding him in the air, I grabbed him around the back and angled him up. Took the gooey stuff and pressed it against his little mouth. He tried to fight back, but I pressed until some coated his little feeler things. I took another piece and did the same thing. Then I smeared blood on his mouth.

  Put him back in the little prison and waited. I dug a hole and put seawater in, but it drained into the sand. I got a makeup bag out of my supply of suitcases, filled it with seawater, and put that in the hole with him. He wande
red up to it, trying to fit his body in.

  Ah, shit! I fed him that zombie crap; now I won’t be able to eat him. I looked over at her. She was attached to the tree by her neck this morning. She didn’t exactly smile encouragingly. She moaned at me, low in her throat. I pretended like she was trying to be sexy. Then I thought about the aroma drifting toward me and gagged.

  That brings me back to problem number two.

  She smells. Bad. I mean she smells rotten. It’s not like I can give her a bath with soap. Every time I get close to her, I have to hold my nose or the smell almost knocks me over. I mean she smells like … well, death. For a while, it was the stuff in her stomach, and yeah, I planned to clean that out again today. I was able to cover up the smell of fish and seawater by dousing her in some Old Spice cologne I found in a bag. But now, it just sat on top of the stink.

  While I waited on the crab, I took her to the stream and removed her hula girl outfit. That is something else I can do today: make her a new grass skirt. I suppose I could dress her in some of the clothes I found, but if you had a chance to dress a girl up like this, you would do it, right?

  Right?

  RIGHT?!

  I took her coconut top off and sat her in the stream by using my well-practiced zombie-tripping technique. She fell near the edge of the water and tried to bite my arm. I yanked it back from the gag, then double-checked to make sure it was still secure. I loosened it and re-tied it just in case.

  I took a tiny bottle of Head and Shoulders from one of the bags I had found in the tail section. It had maybe half a teaspoon of shampoo in it. I had used half the other day on myself. Now I was going to use my last smear of shampoo on a dead girl. As I scrubbed, some of the hair came out in clumps. I tossed these aside and tried to ignore the open wounds left on her head.

  I washed her body as best I could and picked the bugs from various crevices. Dear Diary, let me just say that you do not want the details of some of the places I had to go to get to them. I washed her all over, but it was not fun. I used to enjoy this, especially her top half, but now she was getting stiff in all the wrong places. Her breasts no longer give way when I push against them. I could feel a lump in there and wondered if she had a cancer growth or something. Then I realized her flesh was shriveling around her implants. I can’t believe I used to think they were real. Just goes to show, zombify a chick and her true colors come out.

  I tugged her away from the stream and into the sun so she could dry off. I tied her to a tree and she stared up at the sun for a while.

  I went back to check on the crab, but there was no change. I pushed him and he turned to snap his claws at my stick. When I went back to her, she was hooting and calling at the sky. I don’t get that. Does she think she can talk to the clouds? I touched her cheek, and she turned her cold face to look at me. A spider had taken up residence by her ear, and it looked like it was checking out the cavity as a place to hide or catch prey. I knocked it off her head, and when it hit the ground, I mushed it.

  Then I ate it.

  It wasn’t that big, and a little protein doesn’t hurt when you are starving to death. It was pretty stupid, though. What if the spider had the zombie virus? God damn it! Was I going to end up spending my entire life worrying about every little morsel I ate?

  I put her coconut halves back on and tied them tight so she looked like she had cleavage again—a little shriveled now, but something to look at just the same. I took my time tucking them in, enjoying how they felt, since in a few more days, they would probably be as hard as potatoes. She stared at the sun, then at me. Whenever her good eye settled on me, she drew her lips back from her teeth.

  I brushed sand off her face, avoiding her teeth. Her dead eye is getting pretty bad. It looks like a raisin and just sort of floats there. I reached out, touched it, and the thing rolled around. It had a hollow feel in the socket, like a dried acorn in a shell when you shake it. How come that doesn’t bother her? I clenched my teeth and touched the eye with both fingers, which was a huge mistake, because it came loose.

  Dropped the eye, jumping back as if it were a bug trying to bite me. Well, that wasn’t so bright. Now she would have a hole. I left her alone for a bit and went out to find some rocks. She walked around in circles. I wonder if she has trouble with depth perception, only having one eye and all. I kept an eye on her the entire time, since both of mine work. I wonder why she doesn’t try to follow or bite me as much as she used to. She was always trying to attack me. Now she wanders around like a lost puppy. I think her body may be slowing down and affecting the way her brain works.

  I brought back some small rocks and held them near her eye. She snarled at me a few times, but there was no snapping. I hoped her body wasn’t going bad and dying. Wait, she is already dead. I assured myself of that fact by putting my head on her chest and listening for a heartbeat again. Nothing, I thought I heard a thump once, a week ago, but there was nothing now.

  She smelled so bad. I dropped the rocks and got the supplies. There was no use in putting it off. In went the enema tube, and I pumped her full of water. She had to hang upside down for a while as the chunks of her hubby drained. Again. It was like I was replaying a bad movie.

  While the stuff oozed out, I went back and checked out the crab. It was still dancing around, and when I put a stick near its head, it snapped at it with lightning speed. That assured me that maybe the virus couldn’t be passed on to other animals. I played around with it for a while, showing it the stick and then jerking it back when it tried to get a piece.

  I grabbed the bottle of tequila, figuring I could spare a capful or two to sterilize her guts. I let her down from the tree, helped her to her feet, and gave her a few swallows. I took her to the camp and got her cleaned up. She still smelled terrible, so I dumped half a bottle of cologne on her. I didn’t find any perfume in the bags, real shame about that. She would just have to settle for smelling manly.

  Better than smelling deadly.

  I think I need to start sleeping downwind.

  She was far too compliant. I have to wonder what is going on inside her head. What does she think about all day? Does she even see me as a person? For all I know, she sees me as a walking, talking box of KFC fresh from the fryer.

  I used some of the lipstick I had found to paint one of the rocks and jammed it in her eye socket. The color wasn’t so great, a bright red, but I didn’t have any other choices.

  Her grass skirt was destroyed, and I wasn’t in the mood to make anything else for her. I watched her sway as she walked around in circles with just the coconut top on. I didn’t see a need to tie her to the tree. She just ignored me unless I got too close. From a distance, her stone eye was sort of pretty with the lipstick laid on thick.

  I went back to the crab. Poked and prodded him for a while. He moved around in circles and fought the stick. I found myself talking to him. After a while, I started calling him Spike for no particular reason.

  “Tough guy, eh?” I asked in my best … what was that guy’s name? Had his lip curled down and had an accent that was all attitude. Not Pesci. Too young. No it was … oh yeah, Cagney. My impression sucked.

  I bet I could keep this one. Tie him to something like my girl. He wouldn’t be much trouble. I could feed him and bring him fresh water. It was only fair. Besides, his color was gorgeous. He had the most amazing blue hues.

  I turned the stick over and stabbed him through the center. He kicked and flailed, but stopped after a few seconds. I picked off the outer top shell and tossed him in the fire. Smelled delightful, but I'm not taking a chance on the zombie cooties being in the stupid animal. He was a little guy anyway. I can always go spend a few hours looking for another one. Not much else on my calendar today.

  After killing Spike, I took the shell parts and used the file on a large one to shape it into a disc. I cut two small holes in it and used the fake gold chain from one of the pieces of costume jewelry I found a few days ago to construct a string. Then I threaded it into the blue dis
c and tied it to her head.

  Beautiful. Her blue eye is back. The only problem is that now she looks like a pirate.

  Day 23

  My Girlfriend is a Biter

  I went exploring again today, and it was pretty amazing. I have come to the realization that I may never get rescued from this cursed island. I haven’t seen any more planes, and the guys in the boats have not returned. The last two times, they ran off in terror, so why should they bother coming back? One of my biggest fears is that they know the properties of the strange berries she ate, the ones that turned her into a zombie.

  I wonder if this is the sort of thing that led to the belief in zombies in Haiti. Maybe the berries grow there as well. I should really bring some back to civilization. In fact, I am going to do just that. I will put some in one of the medicine bottles I found. Whatever drugs were in them are now long gone. They dissolved in the ocean while the bags were floating around.

  I think one was some sort of antibiotic, because the letters were rubbed off except for the last two, which were “IN.” I’ve taken penicillin and even Cipro once, which has a much longer name and ends with “floxin” or something like that. I took that stuff for an abscess that grew near my ass. It was so gross being hunched up over a table while three or four doctors did stuff back there. The antibiotic made me sick as a dog by the fourth or fifth day, but I took the whole bottle anyway.

  I decided to hit the beach and just walk for a while. Maybe I would find the other side of the island after all. It’s not as hot today as it has been, and some low clouds probably contributed to this. I left her behind. Why tie her up anymore? She just stares at the sun as she hoots and hollers like some weird zombie bird. Zombie birds? Talk about bird flu.

  I’ve been on this cursed island for three weeks, but I have barely explored it. At first, I was worried about getting hurt. I worried about leaving her behind, because I thought she might get loose and ambush me when I returned. Now I know she couldn’t ambush a panda bear on Quaaludes.