by Javan Bonds
ZOMBIE
PARADISE LOST
☠☠☠
STILL ALIVE
BOOK SIX
Javan Bonds
☠☠☠
The events of
Book Six: Zombie Paradise Lost
Take place simultaneously as events in
Book Five: Zombie River Run
☠☠☠
“All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield”
John Milton
Prelude
“Mo. Gray Fox here. Do you read?” I was sitting on the main deck with the rest of the crew when the radio sounded.
“Wow. You’re alive. How about those nightly debriefs?” I hadn’t heard from my father at the scheduled time last night, and I’d been somewhat worried. It took threatening not to go to Tuscaloosa to keep my brother from just turning the damn boat around.
He fell into a more conversational tone. “Yeah, sorry about that. We were at the church all night.” I could hear his smile through the radio. “Some temporary replacements are showing up.”
He said this for the benefit of The Oracle. I turned to see my husky friend grinning as if he already knew. I asked into the radio, “Replacements for who?”
“Bob showed up. We also have a preacher now, and a new sheriff.”
I was happily surprised. “I knew Bob had to make it.” Shit, I kind of want to go back now just because Bob’s there. “Why were you at church last night? It wasn’t Sunday.”
He didn’t seem to catch my sarcasm. “Brother Brown was elected as the interim pastor. He gave us quite a story.” My dad’s choice of wording told me that he didn’t believe the story was true.
“‘Gave?’ I take it you considered it was bullshit?”
I could tell he thought so. “Meh. There were a lot of holes in it.”
“But you voted for him anyway?”
He shot back immediately. “No. Neither did your mother or Bob. But everybody else seemed to be in love with the guy.”
He continued telling us about how this charismatic speaker was immediately accepted by almost every resident of the island. Charismatic, huh?
I thought about asking if this guy could become The Dictator, but knew my dad had probably already been thinking about that. After a pause, I spoke into the radio. “We’ve gone through a few dams. Most have been quiet. No losses.”
My dad added on to the end of my sentence. “Yet.”
I begrudgingly reaffirmed, “No losses yet.” It’s like he wanted us to barely make it. If we made it to the Gulf, he probably didn’t expect three of us to be alive. I know as The Hero I would have to be included in the three, but he would only accept that because it’s the way things are supposed to be.
He waited a long moment. “How’s Easy?” I knew it was coming.
“I’m here.” My brother was sitting across from me.
“How’s Aka?” Daddy asked.
“She’s here, too.”
She immediately chimed in, “Hey, Randy.” She, like everyone else I’ve ever met, has already taken to calling my dad by his first name. I was guessing my mom would be “Mrs. Collins.”
Speak of the devil. My mother came into the room and entered the conversation. They managed to talk to Smokes and every other member of the crew. Shit, even Crow got some air time! I sat in lonely silence like an unloved stepchild.
Eventually, my father remembered that I existed. “Hey Mo, your cousin is going to do a few flyovers of the county and look for more survivors.” It’s great that Guntersville now has a big plane with a trained flight crew. I was glad Benji’s skills were being put to use.
I was about to speak when he started again. “If he sees any hordes, he’ll drop some 120s on them.” I was hoping he would do just that.
My mother chimed in. “Elmo, Ezekiel, watch out for one another on your trip.” I cringed at her use of my full first name. We smiled and nodded then realized we needed to answer verbally. We both sounded back that we would.
“Well, good talk. Buzz you tomorrow night.” Daddy was winding down the conversation.
I laughed. “You sure about that? You don’t want to start making them bi-nightly?”
He fell back into his usual radio stance. “Mo. Yes, I’m sure. And no, we will continue with our set schedule.” Ugh. “Gray Fox over and out.”
Well, this carefree adventure is going to be business as usual, no twists and no surprises. Don’t expect to read about any clashes with the evolving peevies. Their northward push started over a month ago, so the damn creeps have to be in New York by now. At least in DC. I can imagine the monsters trying to bite Nancy Pelosi and getting silicone poisoning. Shit, never mind. You can’t kill something that’s already dead, plus she was only at work four days a year anyway!
We won’t come across a single living person. If we do, of course, they won’t have any ill intent. We are all just people trying to avoid becoming naked cannibals! Dammit. I don’t remember coming across any incarnations of The Villain, The Dictator, or even The Betrayer in my fourth journal.
Tomorrow I will start a new journal. It will detail my boredom and our uneventful, short trip as we travel to find The Cure. You can expect absolutely, positively nothing exciting to happen on our zombie river run!
1
For Number One
“...Will be down at the Cinco de Mayo parade on Sunset in about an hour.” The statement finished broadcasting as the radio stations were switched and finally turned off.
Amy the driver, a woman in her late twenties with flowing blonde hair, turned to her female friend in the passenger seat. She also was around the same age but with the shorter golden-blonde hair.
“Like, what kind of coke you want?” Amy asked as she climbed out of the car and walked toward the Exxon.
“A Mountain Dew!” her friend returned.
☠☠☠
Inside the gas station, the clerk behind the register was ringing up Amy’s drinks. She put a twenty on the counter to pay for the drinks and the gas she was about to pump.
Suddenly, a seemingly deranged, and naked man came stumbling out of the bathroom in the back of the store. Disoriented, he was running into everything in his path, covering his eyes and screaming like a lunatic.
Like, what’s going on? Crazy old coot must have lost his mind, or is just a perv, totally!
Grabbing her drinks, she ran out the door. Rather than pumping her gas, she jumped into the car and sat down locking the doors. Looking back at the gas station, she could see the naked guy lunge over the counter at the clerk. This day was turning out to be a strange one.
She spoke to herself in a whisper, “What the fuck, for reals?”
Her friend looked at her eyes and followed them. “What is it, Amy?”
The driver grew cold. More naked people were running across the causeway headed directly toward the two friends. Every one of them had a blue tint to their skin and shielded their yellow eyes. “I’m totally not going to that parade. We need to go home, dude.” Amy turned the ignition over and put it into drive.
The girl in the passenger seat saw the blue lunatics rushing forward. “Good idea. What’s going on?”
The fuel gauge may have been on E, but there was no time to get gas. They had to make it home, gather everyone, and get out of town! Radio stations were flipped through, getting only music or static. Either no one knew this was happening, or they were willfully ignorant. Could this have something to do with that sickness down in Mobile?
Luckily, Amy only lived a few blocks away. A couple of left turns and the car swung into the driveway. Slamming on t
he brakes, the driver turned to her passenger. “I’ll go get Mom, Dad, and Lacy. Wait here and keep the doors locked till I get back.” She sprinted to the front door.
☠☠☠
The passenger was getting antsy. She started hearing police sirens, tires squealing, what sounded like cars crashing into each other. There was even a gunshot! She was freaking out. Amy was taking forever.
In the rearview mirror, she saw two naked people running down the next street.
This is not happening. This is not happening! She jumped over into the driver’s seat, just in case her friend never came back.
Finally, Amy emerged from the front door. Behind her ran her parents and her older sister. Her father carried a rifle over a shoulder and a pistol in his hand. The passenger was so ready for them to get to the damn car!
Just then several of the naked Smurfs turned down their street. They saw Amy and her parents running toward the car! There was no time to think. She couldn’t wait any longer.
Sarah threw the car into drive, stomped the gas doing a U-turn in the yard slinging grass and dirt everywhere. Amy screamed while running after her. “Sarah!? Like, where are you going? Don’t leave us!” She wasn’t able to hear Amy’s frantic calls. Sarah had to go somewhere safe.
2
Systematic Annihilation
The Medicine Man, wearing The Dark Lord of the Sith suit, rounded the corner gripping the thick wooden shaft of his two-headed mace. Pulling it on the ground behind him allowed the barbs of one head to spark and make loud noises as it scraped along the concrete. Most would call what he was doing insane.
It was like he was ringing the dinner bell for the blunatics infesting this hydroelectric dam. If he didn’t have a backup or reinforced plate armor, he would still be on the Viva Ancora. But calling the peevies to come out and play was exactly what he was doing. He and Easy were ready.
Easy, The Protector belted out a favorite death metal song, entirely off key. “Unholy death, one last breath. How could you do this to me?..” He was teamed with The Medicine Man to protect Aka on yet another damn, dam excursion. “Wrenching death blood flows free“...
They’d walked her through nearly the entire dam and hadn’t heard a peep from the rabid cannibals. The water level had dropped, the Cora entered the lock, the lock had been closed, the water level had been raised, and the entire process had been completed. The team had remained entirely unmolested.
Now on the return journey, the duo of armored heroes wasn’t going to be satisfied leaving without letting some infected blood. This was boring. Both main protagonists were itching for some action. They were too pumped not to be involved in mortal combat.
“Crossing the burning gate! Genocide! It’s annihilation of the human race!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to rouse up some of the filthy former humans.
Finally, one of the creatures swung open a door with a metal clang. The starving beast stumbled toward the protector clad in Iron Man’s armor. Attacking with no immediate reinforcements, the animal looked astoundingly gaunt. Only a weak and naked former senior citizen would act so unthinkingly.
Easy drew his behemoth of a war hammer from over his shoulder as the animal drew closer on shaky legs. This was becoming nearly effortless. He laughed and looked over to Darth Vader. “We’re going to have to start bringing a bottle of vinegar when we leave the boat! Or make Mo come on every trip.”
He drew the hammer back, waiting for the slow creature to come within his reach. The barely reanimated corpse finally came within spitting distance, arms stretched forward, reaching out, just like a zombie in the movies.
The Protector yelled out the ending of Exist In Sin’s, “Systematic Annihilation” as he brought the blunt end of his hammer down onto the head of the oncoming monster. “Never stopping til the job is done. Spilling blood…..Die.Die.Die.Die..Die!”
☠☠☠
3
Introduction:
Memoirs of Benji
My name is Benjamin “Benji” Collins; former naval flight officer in the United States Navy. I’d been taking the day off at Naval Base Ventura County the day the dead began to walk. My second-in-command, Devin Landers, somehow already knows every action that will be taken, as if this script has already been rehearsed. There’s no way to know if it’s he who is all-knowing, or if he is merely channeling another.
My mother is Korean; most people find it strange to hear a southern accent coming from an Asian dude. All those names have been thrown around, and I take them with a sense of pride. Call me a redneck zipper head, a slant-eyed hillbilly or a corn-fed chink. You can expect the same southern colloquialisms you would get in a journal by any other hillbilly from Alabama, like my cousin, Mo Collins.
Follow the chronicling of my after Armageddon adventures in these memoirs. Remember, if you find this notebook unfinished, I’m either dead or naked and shitting in the woods.
☠☠☠
After returning to my Alabama home with a remnant of my crew, we made contact with a large group of survivors on Guntersville Island. This group, lead by Randy Collins, an older cousin of mine who I saw more like an uncle, was currently the interim mayor of the city of Guntersville. After severing all land connections, he had made the tiny island of Guntersville a sanctuary for survivors of the zombie virus.
The walking dead or zombies, commonly called peevies, short for “plague victim,” aren’t technically reanimated corpses. Sure, thinking of them as mindless, soulless, undead revenants was easier and didn’t weigh on the conscience like admitting they were actually only turned into rabid animals. It was less disturbing for me to picture my bullet going through the blackened, un-beating heart of a dead person than to think that I’m murdering a sick, incoherent individual with no control over their actions.
Anyway, Randy decided that I, as the leader of the only military trained aircrew, should do some flyovers of the local area. We might find some humans in need of assistance. After we save them, then they'll be offered the opportunity to join our growing band of living people. We have plenty of space on our island refuge, and we’re always adding territory.
I decided that taking one of the smaller planes abandoned at the airport, made more sense than blowing Azrael 2’s fuel on these short scouting trips. If we did spot a massive horde of undead on one of our journeys, we’d hopefully have time to get back, take the AC130 up, and drop some great balls of fire on the blunatics. It was doubtful we’d see more than a handful together at one time; however, if I learned anything from my time in the Scouts it was; be prepared.
Large numbers of the infected hadn’t been seen very often in the area since before I arrived on the island. On our flight to my childhood home within Marshall County in my heavily armed aircraft, leading a crew of several servicemen, we witnessed the despicable brutality of the evil known as peevies. The loss of quite a few of our comrades on the cross-country trip was more than enough evidence of their inhumanity.
But the monsters were apparently starving to death or migrating out of the area. We hadn’t seen the dozens or hundreds that had been decimating the towns and cities across the country beginning on May Day.
4
Into The Storm
While most of the core characters set sail on the replica pirate ship Viva Ancora, in search of the cure for the infection that has swept the globe, Randy Collins, his wife, and a select few of the protagonists remained on Guntersville Island. As of late, temporary replacements had been showing up to fill much-needed roles.
☠☠☠
Before the Cora left the port to travel down the Tennessee River, Gene, The Tech, had one last treat for Randy. Having been suited up in War Machine’s Storm Knight Armor and brandishing the obligatory Nexus Blade, the interim mayor of Guntersville couldn’t imagine what Gene could possibly do to be more of a badass. He pulled up in the marina parking lot in his Humvee to find the gangplank lowered and waiting for him.
Not even to the top of the gangplank and the
mayor could see Gene rushing from the stairs. “You have to see this. It’s stellar!” Randy could see the young engineer was carrying a set of what looked like Under Armour gloves. These gloves were intricately wired, leading to a small box in his other hand.
Mayor Collins was excitedly puzzled. “What’s that?”
The Tech answered his question with one of his own. “Have you ever used a Taser?”
Randy thought about it and shook his head. “Not that I can remember. But I have seen them used plenty.”
Gene grinned wickedly. “Well, you will never need one when you put these babies on. Roxorz!”
Randy could only smile and laugh as he closed in on Gene. “What’s it do?” He knew whatever excited The Tech this much had to do something extraordinary.
After sliding the gloves on, Gene pressed a button on the small box. “I hate wasting food, but this will be worth it!” He lifted a largemouth bass from a bucket of water.
The robotics engineer gestured for Randy to stay where he was and stepped further away. He held the fish up and away, placed both hands on it, and gritted his teeth. An electric buzz could be heard. Suddenly, the fish exploded as if it had been jammed full of C4. Wet smacks could be heard as tiny chunks of meat plopped onto the deck. Splashes in the water sounded. The mayor had a hard time believing what he had just seen.
“The fuck, white boy! You got fish on me!” Crow screamed from her fishing spot.
“Sorry!” Gene sheepishly threw an apology in her direction.
Her acceptance of the apology was to wander below deck while mumbling something about motherfucking white people.
Randy walked closer to his young friend. “That was awesome, Gene! You could’ve just told me, though. Seems like an unnecessary mess.” He looked The Tech up and down, who was now spattered from head to toe with fish chunks and translucent scales.
