Still Alive (Book 2): Zombie Island

by Javan Bonds

  He looked at me and whatever questions he had froze in his throat. “Okay. Let’s get on back.”

  I can’t bring this shit to anyone without crying. I leave it for my journal and let my reader share my DISTRESS.

  Through Gene’s Eyes

  THE SQUAD DECIDED to take out the bridges on the southern causeway first, then the western, and finally the eastern. At the first one we came to, the only thing under the bridge was a galactic amount of poodoo. It’s staggering to see the ocean of droppings these creatures leave behind. They couldn’t just let go in the water so it could float away, they have to make sure to leave enormous piles on the kriffing shoreline!

  We were all surprised when our next stop resulted in some action. Daniel dropped down to the gravel below one of the bridges to make sure nothing useful lay underneath. Under the bridge was almost completely dark compared to our surroundings, he had to squint to make out anything. Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was assaulted by what can only be described as a hobbit or a Smurf. Not as sexually appealing as Smurffette or those tiny beauties from the Shire, this stunted monster more closely resembled an orc or a blue grub from Gears. It flung itself at him, knocking him onto his back. If any of us had tried to back him up with blasters, our construction engineer would surely have met an untimely demise; we couldn’t discern one safely from the other. I realized in a nanosecond I would have to come to his aid with some slice ’n dice.

  I hurled myself down and extended my adamantium claws, prepared to rip into the tiny abomination. The inhuman roars and screams from the beast told me it was intent on getting to the succulent meat below.

  As I drew near, Daniel screamed. “Get this damned thing off me!”

  Roger, Roger. I raced at the little demon like The Flash, making an audible and intimidating sound so my friend knew I was on it. I sprang from my feet and collided with the peevie just as it was about to take a bite out of Daniel’s bare arm. In the future, I must insist the crew wear body armor on these away missions. The hideous blue Ferengi female rolled back into the darkness with true death on her heels. She turned to her left and I jammed my sharpened fist into nothing but air. The monster spun on one foot to come around and sink its filthy teeth into my elbow, but I flicked my wrist and made three gashes in its cheek with my double bladed knives. It stepped back and wiped blood from its face and I swear it laughed—a most disconcerting sound. I took a step back as well, sizing up my foe and creating a space between us large enough for an epic Mortal Kombat showdown.

  I raked my adamantium claws together and rolled my neck, aware that only one of us would walk away from here. I drew on the Force to guide me and lunged at the gremlin. It simultaneously charged me and we came together in the middle of the screen. Its health bar immediately drained as all six of my razor sharp blades sank to the hilt in its potbellied stomach. I pulled back—hot, infected blood gushed from the mortal wounds, yet the creature didn’t cry out in pain or even falter. It merely looked down with surprise and then looked back up at me, seemingly offended I had won the battle trophy. It glared at me with its last ounce of hatred before collapsing to its knees and falling to the side, defeated, and with no extra lives.

  I turned my head and spit before shaking the gory entrails from my blades. “All your base are belong to us, bitch.”

  Seeing that Daniel had already risen and was headed up top, I followed, secure in my victory.

  “I think it was a deformed midget and it had me pinned to the ground. Freddy Krueger over there tackled the thing and ripped it to pieces!” Daniel told and retold the story to our companions of how I had heroically saved him; I would speak not of my conquest.

  Our third and final causeway was louder and just as bloody. We stopped on the pavement before coming onto the concrete bridge and the four of us exited the vehicle in unison. Randy and The Admiral took the lead, this time rifles at the ready. Daniel also cocked his weapon and watched the perimeter. The seniors moved to each side of the causeway, The Admiral tossed a glow rod around the corner before making her presence known to the monsters. She looked around the corner without exposing herself to see what appeared to be a family. A father, mother, and two younglings were catching fish and eating them raw along the shallow water under the bridge. She was nearly enchanted by the loving scene before her. When one of the children caught a fish and turned to let its mother take a bite, Hammer let out a soft “Aw.”

  This barely noticeable sound caused the undead to halt and take notice. The large male strode quickly in the direction of the sound and could eventually see The Admiral around the corner.

  It let out a deafening screech and Randy simultaneously radioed Captain Sledge. “Are you behind cover?”

  Hammer clicked the walkie-talkie still on her chest harness. “Affirmative.”

  He stepped around the corner and opened up. Rounds from his SKS tore through at least two of them, sending bone fragments and mutilated organs spraying out in front of them.

  The remaining child-thing turned around and began running at Randy. He paused, unsure if he could shoot and kill what used to be someone’s son. The strings of saliva hanging from its chin and frantic, yellow eyes convinced him that this animal was beyond the point of saving and he sent a bullet into its skull. The momentum of the headless corpse carried it to a sliding stop a few feet in front of him. He could only sigh, swallowing back a gag reflex, watching the blood flow slow to a trickle from the arteries. He turned and went back into the cover of the concrete baffles.

  Hammer was about to deal with her own attacker. Not willing to step around the corner, The Admiral drew her sidearm and backed up. As she lifted her pistol, she had the perfect idea that would result in ultimate mayhem. She pulled a frag from her pouch and dropped it on the loose gravel before hoofing it backwards. The daddy monster soon came out into the light, immediately clamping its eyes shut and wailing. It had not noticed the small explosive inches from its feet and this ghoul was about to vaporize. Hammer’s thought was that at least Earl wasn’t the smallest player in that game before the grenade exploded into a giant fireball. The creature disappeared behind a wall of fire and gravel. When the dust settled and the small rocks stopped raining down, The Admiral could see absolutely nothing of the cannibal. It had been completely dematerialized, leaving not even a stain where it had been standing.

  The two elders reached the pavement over the railing at the exact same time. Hammer and Randy exchanged hand gestures to signify that they were both okay. “You guys should really wear some of my power armor. These little forays wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Randy walked closer. “That's a great point, Gene. I’ll have everyone suit up just in case. How many of those suits do you have?”

  “Enough to load down an YT-38 freighter.” I was pleased to be of service.

  He simply smiled confusedly and shook his head. He looked back at the Humvee. “You want to napalm this one, too?”

  Thermite and napalm are completely different substances, but I chose to just nod silently.

  After a productive and exciting day, our final task was to barricade the one river bridge and prepare for its destruction in the near FUTURE.

  Mo Journal Entry 7

  THE NEXT DAY, the strike team split into several groups to make a few stops on our way to the Panhandle. One pair would go to the True Value on the island and look for any ditch diggers or anything capable of moving earth. Another pair would travel to the John Deere Tractor Supply to make a list of any useful machines. The third pair would visit the Guntersville Public Works Department and try to find anything there to move dirt. Always the odd men out, Smokes and I were tasked with checking out the equipment the city construction workers had been using to replace a sidewalk and to look around the island for random construction equipment. You might be as shocked as I was to learn that construction equipment is not housed under flashing arrows and we didn’t find anything beyond the stuff gathered at the sidewalk construction site; picks, shovels, mixers.r />
  Dammit, of course I couldn’t get an easy job like going to the fucking John Deere store. Smokes and I had to be downtown, surrounded by buildings teaming with the walking dead! I probably shouldn’t be worried, couldn't be worse than the pet store. Daddy sure as hell didn’t seem to mind I could be mere feet away from undeath. Smokes could’ve volunteered me for this job when he threw one hand up and clapped me on the shoulder with the other. “We got dis, bra!” I know that as The Hero, I’ve been given divine protection and our seer basically told me I’m invincible, but it’s hard to look at it that way when I’m about to spend the entire day no farther than a wall and one wrong step away from naked blue cannibals.

  ☠☠☠

  “What da fuck we lookin’ fo, anyway?” My only answer was to shrug my shoulders and grunt as I opened the driver’s door to step out of the Humvee.

  “Look at dis, homey!” I thought by his excited tone that perhaps Smokes had actually found something useful. All I could do was slap my forehead as I turned to witness his discovery. “Really, a fucking jackhammer? We’re digging through dirt, not concrete. Plus that needs electricity.”

  “Fuck you too, white bread!”

  I sure as hell wasn't going to use that beast.

  The rest of the ridiculously unfruitful search was just as painful. We successfully recovered a wheelbarrow, six wide shovels, two post hole diggers, and Smokes’s beloved jackhammer. On the list of tools I made that we were unable to carry were a small concrete mixer full of dried concrete, a machine that made curbs, and –I question my sanity sometimes –I also listed one of those boxes on wheels you push to paint lines on the road.

  ☠☠☠

  I came to a stop in front of Cherokee Elementary, just a few hundred feet from where we planned on severing the Panhandle. I was hoping that Smokes and I had dragged enough ass that most of the work would be done by the time we got there, but my dad pulled up just after we did and explained that the earth moving would begin tomorrow. Not that I ever contribute anything more than necessary, but often my procrastination does not seem to make a difference. It’s almost like work can’t be done without me, but I don’t understand why, since I never seem to get any important duties or even really do anything. It’s like I’m being paid back for skipping out on the work that happened when we went to the Enterprise and now I have to be present for all the manual labor. Until my dad brought it to my attention, I had not noticed the ranks of heavy machinery parked across the road. I guess I’m exaggerating; it was only five or six tractors. I swear to God, the John Deere dealership and True Value Hardware are actually in fucking downtown, yet I didn’t hear a tractor one time today!

  "We got a ditch digger, a couple of skid loaders, two excavators, and a bulldozer,” my dad bragged. I had fully expected they would come up with enough machinery for this task. There was only one question: a bulldozer? I have spent my entire life near Guntersville and I’ve been on this island thousands of times; not once have I seen a bulldozer anywhere on it! I could see the bulldozer, I’m not denying it exists, I’m simply pissed I didn’t know about it until now.

  I looked at the tractors and then over to his Humvee. It was loaded to the gills with dynamite. As usual, I regretted speaking before the sentence was finished. Of course, I spoke it anyway. "Oh. We got some shovels and a jackhammer…”

  The Oracle actually pumped his fist in the air when he heard me say jackhammer. I could do nothing but drop my face into my hand. Fighting through the embarrassment, I began unloading our measly hand tools, propping them sadly up against the bulldozer. I heard my dad and Hammer from across the road. "He’s got post hole diggers. Could we use those for the dynamite?"

  Wow, maybe I’m not a complete failure! The two of us stooges had actually found some useful equipment. The zombie prophet cheered right in my face. "Told ya bitch. Dey gonna like my shit!”

  　　 ☠☠☠

  Day three of making our “island” a true island was the day our demolition/construction began. You won’t be surprised to learn my truck was the last in the convoy to park. The Tech and Daniel The Builder began racing to the post hole diggers that would lead to making things go boom. They headed straight to the marked-off section of ground designated as our future channel. Again, I felt accomplished; Daddy and The Expert had gone to retrieve that paint-box-thingy that I had listed could be of use later. I should get paid for being so prepared. I didn’t even bother opening my door, so entranced was I watching them in action. They enthusiastically jammed the post hole diggers repeatedly into a single spot, each pulled a stick of dynamite from their pocket like it was a firecracker, used a Federation Zippo and a Red Bic to ignite each fuse, dropped their cylinders down the two holes then hoofed it out of there. This was the first time I could recall watching a real stick of dynamite explode, and I know it’s just dirt, but shit! I wasn’t expecting a twenty foot geyser of earth raining back down in at least a five foot square crater who knows how deep! Hammer and Daddy quickly mounted an excavator and immediately drove to their craters while the remaining six of us, including Mary, made our way to the shovels.

  Now, I was raised on a farm in Alabama. I am completely capable of driving a skid loader. Pretty sure I could quickly learn to drive a bulldozer. No one gave me instructions to do so, I just followed the lead of The Oracle, who had obviously paid attention at the task briefing. I had never seen a handicapped person use a shovel, The Old Friend sure as hell showed me. It was almost funny when Mary jumped off his shoulder and started slinging dirt by hand like she had understood the plan and her place in it all along.

  The engineers had exploded more dynamite than was probably humanly safe in one day. They broke ground from the south side of the highway to about twenty feet from the shore and were now shoveling with us. The plan was to make this channel about twenty feet wide and twenty feet deep. We would leave earthen walls at each shore until the channel was sufficiently deep, and then blow the shit out of the walls with dynamite. The leaders and the engineers even planned ramping roads for the vehicles to safely drive in and out of our big hole. God and George Romero had to be smiling down on us…the skies remained clear for this entire task.

  ☠☠☠

  On the fourth day, I was beginning to think that I could be considered one of the engineering geniuses when the concrete mixer and the curb-planter were added to our growing list of on-site machinery. Maybe I should’ve gone to school for engineering, or at least been a construction worker...I would have been amazing at holding the "stop" and "go" signs to control traffic. Our canal grew in depth and width, while our earthen wall simultaneously gained height by noticeable feet with every glance. The tractors occasionally went over to a mobile fuel pump that I was confident had just magically appeared. It wasn’t there before we started, and I don’t remember anyone leaving to retrieve a fuel tanker, though I’m sure Hammer wanted one for her fleet.

  ☠☠☠

  The digging on the southern side of the two-lane highway was nearly complete. The Oracle, who remained miraculously no healthier, began singing. "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming ‘fore to carry me home…"

  I chuckled. “You do know this is not The Shawshank Redemption, right? Daddy doesn’t have a shotgun to guard us and I don’t think he’s wearing mirrored sunglasses."

  He stopped shoveling and narrowed his eyes at me. "Listen cracka, shut yo white-ass mouf or I start bustin’ out some hardcore rap."

  Now, I’ve spent my entire life listening to Country music and am a diehard Classic Rock man. But I just can't get into Rap. I'm not offended by it, and it's not a racial thing; hell, I’m not an Eminem fan either. The sad truth is I can’t follow it, rappers rap faster than I can hear, and I need lyrics to complete the package. That music is as much an art form as any other type of music, it’s just not my thing. And when I say "Country and Rock," I mean Alan Jackson and Patsy Cline or Tom Petty and Pat Benatar, not Rascal Flats and Taylor Swift or Maroon 5 and Rihanna, if you follow me. Call me narrow minded
if you like; I prefer to say I'm a purest.

  His threat got me thinking, some of that old school rap has a good beat. "You Know ‘Big Poppa’?”

  He looked back down and began shoveling. For a moment I thought he might be ignoring me and was about to suggest another song. But he was only gearing up. He spontaneously began pouring out an impossibly exact impersonation of Notorious B I G. My jaw dropped. holy shit, he should have started doing this yesterday...we'd be finished by now!

  ☠☠☠

  As the work crew finished our lunch break that day, Daniel looked at The Oracle. "Do you know ‘Back at One’ by Brian McKnight?"

  The entire group stopped moving and slowly turned to stare at Daniel The Builder. The poor guy defended himself. "It’s the only recent song by a black guy I can think of!"

  I could sympathize. I didn’t have a giant repertoire of newer R&B or Rap myself, that’s just part of being a white boy from the country in Alabama. When you are surrounded by other dirty and sweaty men, you should not be thinking about gushing love songs. Even though that is a pretty good one.

  Smokes turned back and began crooning as he walked. "One, you're like a dream come true…"

  Was The Oracle like one of those digital jukeboxes with every song in history on it? I’m going to have to remember to ask for “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” or “Free Fallin”!

  ☠☠☠

  We were definitely on a mission, so days started running together after that. We would get up and get ready, shovel dirt all day, return to the Cora when it started getting dark, and do it again the next morning. I had no idea what day of the week, I wasn’t even completely sure of the month, but the weather was getting cooler. It turned out that it was still May, working outside so damn much just fucks with your internal thermostat.