by Javan Bonds
ZOMBIE OASIS
ZOMBIE OASIS
STILL ALIVE
BOOK 4
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Javan Bonds
ZOMBIE OASIS
STILL ALIVE
BOOK 4
Copyright © 2017 Javan Bonds
& If I Only Had A Monkey Publishing
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com or Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental; any references to actual places, people, or brands are fictitious. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For permissions contact: [email protected]
Editing by Monique Happy Editorial Services
http://moniquehappy.com/
Cover by Covers by Christian
http://coversbychristian.com
ISBN-13: 978-1544256863
ISBN-10: 1544256868
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Acknowledgments
My parents always get the first thanks. There’s no way I could get anywhere near to publishing without my dad doing all the work. And of course, my grammar skills would not be criticized near as much without a scolding from my mother.
Thanks to the people that keep me moving. This book wouldn’t exist without Heather Kennedy, Lisa Long, Tony Lord, Missey McCanna, Pamela Turner Seabolt, my always faithful devil dog Sergeant Cynthia Terrones, the greatest MILF in the world, Amy Workman, or the numerous others I forget to mention. Just because I have a bad memory when it comes to names doesn’t mean I forget what you do for me.
Thanks to my beta readers, Mandy Owens, Taft Reeves, Gloria Snodgrass, Kelly Tinnon, and Dr. Tammy Whited. They are my first judges but thankfully not executioners.
Thanks to Emily Traylor, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You will be reading ideas from our brainstorming sessions throughout the series.
Thanks to Donna Shields, my final proofreader. I hope to one day send you a book that you have to make no changes to.
Thanks to Mo Happy, my editor and publicist. You probably wouldn’t have heard of my books if it wasn’t for her. And no, I did not use her first name as inspiration for the main character.
Thanks to my cousin, Benjamin Bonds. He is the complete physical inspiration for Benji.
Thanks to my tattoo artist, Kao Kikuyama. Nearly the complete inspiration for Hirotoro Sako.
Thanks to John O’Brien, the author of my foreword and one of the coolest writers to live. I have many heroes, but it’s hard to find one that’s a nicer guy than him.
Thanks to Craig DiLouie, David Simpson, and Frank Tayell. They are just some of my fellow zombie authors that keep me whistling while I work. Keep it up.
Thanks to Christian Bentulan for another phenomenal cover.
Javan
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FOREWORD
Javan Bonds is a pretty amazing guy. I'm happy as hell to recommend him to you.
Read this book. Live in his world. You're going to like it and hate it at the same time. It will thrill you and scare the crap out of you … but that's what good zompoc books are supposed to do, right?
Anyone who's read even a little about Javan knows the challenges he's faced in his life. Most people might let that stop them, but not Javan. He's met all the obstacles head on with determination, and he turns that energy into wildly creative stories that all of us get to read. You can see the same cleverness and strength in his characters, too. It's one of the many things that make his books worth reading. That and the cannibalism, of course.
Javan and I play in different parts of the same sandbox. We both love horror and action and zombies, and we like telling long, complicated stories about nightmarish stuff. If you like even some of the stories that I've told, I'm not kidding: You're going to love what Javan's doing, not just in this book, but in all his books. They’re big and bloody and full of “Can he really do that?” and “Can he really show that?” moments that you'll remember for a long time, no matter how many zombie apocalypse books you read.
Getting to know this young man and learning about him has reminded me of just how lucky I am to live the life I do. I'm proud to call him a friend, and to have the chance to point you towards the awesome, crazy stories of Still Alive and everything else he writes about. Now you get to be the lucky one: You get to go on the same journey for the first time. I actually envy you.
Enjoy. It's a hell of a ride.
~ John O'Brien
Best-selling author of over a dozen zompoc thrillers, including the series Ares Virus and A New World.
Author page: http://www.amazon.com/John-OBrien/e/B005IDEPP0/
Website: http://anewworldseries.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/A_NewWorld
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJohnWOBrien
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Cast of Characters
(Alphabetic)
Mike Brown: supposed temporary replacement for The Man of God. Formerly in federal penitentiary, claims to have been member of Mexican Mafia. Reformed criminal, now ordained minister. Not trusted by main protagonists remaining in Guntersville.
Akambiya “Aka” Ngona Collins: Easy’s wife. Native of Zambia. Dam technician and Nursing degree (pending). Wears X-Men Storm outfit, carries demonic halberd.
Benjamin “Benji” Collins: second cousin to Mo. Naval Flight Officer in command of Azrael 2, last known functioning AC-130. Arrived in Guntersville over a month after May Day to discover safety and close family.
Debbie (Mrs.) Collins: The Hero’s Mother. Conservative Matriarch. Never uses nicknames.
Elmo “Mo” Collins: The Hero and Chronicler. Acting Captain of the Viva Ancora; Jack of No Trades. Wears Battlestar Galactica Cylon armor, carries Star Trek Klingon bat’leth.
Ezekiel “Easy” Collins: Mo’s brother, The Protector. Bodybuilder and extreme health enthusiast. Trainer, Nursing degree (pending). Wears Marvel Iron Man armor, carries Warhammer 40,000 Hammer.
Randy Collins: Leader of The Similar (Former). Mo’s Father, Interim Mayor of the Island of Guntersville; Survivalist.
Crow: Cook and Crewmate on the Viva Ancora. Permanent Resident Fisherwoman. Given name later discovered to be Rose.
Bradley Gage: The Old Friend. National Champion Sharpshooter, Paraplegic Trainer and Bodybuilder. Wears Marvel Daredevil outfits, carries The Walking Dead Lucille, Negan’s Louisville Slugger wrapped in barbed wire.
Mary: The Innocent. Capuchin Monkey, Service Animal (partnered with Bradley.) Clearly wise compared to most of the other characters. Carries Star Trek Romulan throwing dagger.
Dr. Philip George: The Medicine Man. Cardiologist, Indian, Phantom. Commander in the Indian NSG. Sniper. Wears Star Wars Darth Vader armor complete with voice changer, carries medieval style, double-headed mace.
Roberto “Bob” Martinez: temporary replacement for The Tech. Small Engine Mechanic, General Handyman. Member of The Similar (former). Spontaneously appeared in Guntersville after thought dead.
Sarah Ogle: The Love Interest. Longtime Friend and Love-of-His-Life to Mo. Finally in a romantic relationship with The Hero.
The Phantom HITs: Kumar Jindal, Mahatma Doshi, Rejesh Mattu, and Sanjay Patel. Subordinates of Dr. George, Indian NSG com
mandos. All four wear Star Wars Clone Trooper armor.
Hirotoro Sako: temporary replacement for The Expert. Staff Sergeant, USMC (ret.) Amateur Survivalist, degree in Criminal Justice. Body Amplification Enthusiast.
Petunia “Hammer” Sledge: The Expert. Captain, U.S. Marine Corp, Special Ops (Ret). Owner Bottom Dollar Pawn; Extreme Survivalist. Wears Metroid Prime Samus armor, carries Lord of the Rings broadsword Andúril, The Flame of the West.
Cheryl Slice: The Dictator. Warden of the Joseph A. Davidson State Correctional Facility (Former.) Now infected female with one goal in new life: devouring Ezekiel Collins.
Gene Stanley: The Tech. PhD Mechanical Engineering (pending); Owner, Excelsior Comics and Collectables; Collector of Fantasy/Science Fiction Memorabilia. Wears Fallout Brotherhood of Steel armor, carries X-Men Wolverine wrist blades.
Marlon “Smokes” Williamson: The Oracle. Gangbanger, Dope Dealer (Ret.); Interpreter and Channeler of The Screenwriter.
Sojourner “Soje” Williamson: The Man of God. Farmer, Preacher. Patriarch of the Williamson Clan.
“It’s impossible to go through life unscathed. Nor should you want to. By the hurts we accumulate, we measure both our follies and our accomplishments.”
― Christopher Paolini, Inheritance
Part I
Still Alive
1
Still Alive
ROBERTO MARTINEZ WALKED along the road and remained in direct sunlight. He stayed away from the Diablos in the shadows, but he was always ready to dive into the ditch if a hostile enemy or a vehicle approached. He was one of those that had escaped Jefe’s place when it was first attacked. After spending a few days in Albertville searching for surviving familia and coming up empty-handed, he was now returning to Douglas and discovering mostly scorched earth. The houses he had passed in Albertville were not completely destroyed, but they certainly were here.
He knew what was under the charred remains of Jefe’s casa.
Bob remembered seeing the medico making his way back to Jefe’s bedroom when the federales started shooting. He wasn’t sure who all knew about this underground bunker, but he would be glad to find el doctor still hiding down there. He moved a few pieces of crumbling wood and found the manhole cover which opened to a ladder. This passageway would lead down to the safe room. Bob pulled his trusty pistol from his belt as he opened the door to the shipping container. The mechanic was greeted by nothing but pitch black. He lifted the mini flashlight on his key ring and saw the place was empty. All the safes were opened and gutted. There were none of the lights he had seen when Jefe had originally shown him this bunker for hideaway. Surely those pendejos had found this place and raided it.
The diminutive mechanic turned to make his way to the door with disappointment hanging over his head. His light ran across a package of MREs and a case of bottled water. As he continued to the door, his flashlight settled on a note taped to it. “Viva Ancora with Mo – Randy Collins.”
Bob spent days turning the note over in his head: “Viva Ancora?” He was fairly certain Jefe didn’t speak Spanish and wouldn’t know that “Viva” translated to “alive,” and he had no clue what the other word was. It wasn’t Spanish and he was pretty sure it wasn’t in English. Maybe Jefe was simply trying to send some kind of encrypted message that he was still alive, and Bob could take peace in that.
He sat up from his makeshift bedroll when the realization struck him: “Viva Ancora.” Wasn’t that the name of the boat Jefe’s skinny kid worked on? Bob could’ve sworn to Madre Maria that the kid’s name was Mo! Maybe the kid would give him a tour once he got there. After another few days of living in this luxurious cave, Bob would attempt to make his way to Guntersville Lake. Hopefully he would discover the Jefe Familia on a boat safe from the monstrous. He was a whiz with small engines, and he was sure he would be useful to Jefe.
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The round little Mexican might not look incredibly healthy, but he knew how to be conservative with his food and survive. Supplementing the freeze-dried, packaged meals with squirrels, nuts, berries, and fruit, he could stay here for as long as he wanted.
As he picked up a few pecans from beneath the largest tree near the road, he heard distant explosions coming from the direction of Guntersville. Not knowing exactly what and only that something was happening down the mountain, he decided to wait a few more days before making his journey to the lake.
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He decided to wait a couple of dias to begin his long walk down to Guntersville. He hoped to find Jefe safe from the blue monsters. Before exiting his home of the past few weeks, Bob stuffed the remaining bottles of water and MREs into his pack. The handyman fixed the note in his gaze. His handwriting was worse than Jefe’s chicken scratch. He could not recall the last time he had been forced to write in English. Even so, the short repairman made his sloppy mark below the first inscription: “Still alive. Going to Guntersville beginning of June. Bob.”
If he was to die on his way, maybe this note would be found by the former owner of this casa. Jefe would eventually find this note where he had left it originally and understand what had happened to Bob.
He made it up the ladder and started the trek.
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Bob felt like a bandito each time he had to force his way into a house. He had to break into a home every night when the sun started going down. He knew he wasn’t committing a crime or breaking in to steal, it was survival. Even though he did take the occasional can of sardines or bottle of Coke, the reason had to do with getting shelter from the animales locas outside.
The handyman was completely alone on this empty and perfectly quiet road. It was almost frightening to not hear the normal sounds of nature, like wild animal calls and the tweeting of birds. The only thing Bob could take from his surroundings to remind him that the world was not entirely dead was the chirping and screeching of an abundance of insects. A change would need to be made soon or ecological problems would arise.
Walking down the road, he was too preoccupied thinking on swarms of locusts and biting mosquitoes to notice the man standing on a porch to his left with a shotgun in his hand.
“Put your hands up!” the man shouted at Bob, jerking him back to reality. After some discussion, the man finally believed Bob was not going to attack his wife and daughter. They talked about it and the man, CJ, decided he and his small family would travel with Bob to what could be safety.
CJ, his wife, Regina, and their young daughter, Tommi, loaded backpacks full of food, water, and any equipment that might be useful on their short trek. When they reached the firehall at the top of the mountain, their Hispanic companion told them to remain there while he went on ahead. It was a good thing they did, because soon after Bob left CJ noticed peevies coming out in the daylight. He then saw Bob running into the closest building, an apartment complex, obviously to hide from the monsters. CJ was counting on the little man to come get them when the coast was clear.
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After leaving the firehall, Bob passed the Shell station across the street and continued down the mountain. He was almost there. About halfway down the incline, he began hearing explosions from up ahead. Bob squinted and could make out military vehicles sitting on the mainland side of the causeway, facing the island. Were the federales attacking more innocent people? He wasn’t sure which side of the land bridge was held by the protagonists and which side held the antagonists. The mechanic decided to make his way over to the apartment building on his left. As he crossed the highway, a small water plane zoomed overhead and passed over the vehicles. One of the trucks opened its rear door and an eruption of meat, blood, bone, and everything else one would expect to see from an exploding sardine can of humans violently shot out the back. The smaller truck over to the side sent some shells in the direction of the plane, and it began smoking. The plane started its final descent on the east side of the island. Bob could only wonder who had just been shot down.
The short repairman jimmied the
lock on one of the doors to an upper story apartment just as screaming, naked people started charging the military trucks. He thanked Dios for keeping him out of the hands of the criaturas outside. At least he could watch the scene at the bottom of the mountain from a rear window.
It was shocking to see the Diablos in the daytime. Even more surprising was witnessing the things attack armored vehicles. As if their hunger drove them to the point of insanity, one would run full on at one of the vehicles to be ripped into shreds by a mounted machine gun. Another would follow right behind to be slaughtered in the same fashion. Chunks of mutilated infected were strewn all around the vehicles.
A few soldiers would occasionally walk up, completely ignored by the creatures. The soldiers would shoot the back of infected, unsuspecting skulls, sending brains splattering to the ground. Bob had been informed by television that the Diablos would pay no attention to a newly infected human. He was sure the soldiers must’ve already been bitten.
Vehicles started coming from the island side of the causeway and mowing down more of the animales. He wasn’t sure what was going on. The federales began to exit their armored trucks and get down on their knees in obvious surrender. The islanders, including one man in a full suit of armor, began searching the federales.
After at least a dozen soldiers in line had been searched and cuffed, the searchers came to one smaller person and simultaneously an infantryman. They were obviously surprised to have found these two. The soldier in question rose to gun down the redheaded woman in front of him as the other person shot the armored man. Both of the injured persons fell, and the soldier began to run away. The redheaded woman rose up on an elbow and gunned down the retreating soldier before beginning a short conversation with the smaller individual, which she then shot. The armored knight stood up and people began rushing to the injured woman as she again collapsed.