Zombie Paradise Lost: Still Alive Book Six

by Javan Bonds

  The gas bank attendant screamed in pain. “What the fuck, you stupid bastard!” Enraged Spencer may have been, but he knew the little man didn’t intentionally shoot him. Rather than fire at the idiot, he merely tried to retain consciousness and focus on the demons banging on the window.

  “It was an accident!” the moron screamed.

  Spencer wasn’t willing to argue with the nincompoop. The injured insignificant character reloaded quickly to annihilate the enemy along with rifle rounds from the mayor. With each forceful slam from the monsters, the cracking window spider webbed a greater area. It would soon pose no obstacle to the outside pressure. The number of undead were dwindling, but so was ammunition.

  At some point, Rommel had reloaded his worthless pistol and could only watch helplessly as the revenants hammered the window. He sat with his finger on the trigger of the hammerless pistol. Spencer emptied his last pistol magazine into the beasts and unsheathed his Bowie knife. Nearly a full magazine left, Randy squeezed the trigger as rapidly as he could. Steel would soon be the only protection adequate.

  All the glass in the back frame suddenly caved in with a pop and a thud. The monsters immediately fell on Spencer, lapping up his warm blood on the floor and seat. Rather than simply biting the living human, they grabbed at him. Receiving a few slashes from his blade, they eventually grappled it from his hands. The reanimants eventually had him by his hands dragging him out of the back of the cab, lifting him one over another like a mosh pit.

  The gas bank attendant screamed and flailed as the animals carried him. Realizing what was about to happen, Randy lined his sights up on Spencer. Shooting the man would be immeasurably more merciful than allowing the peevies to slowly take him apart.

  As he was squeezing the trigger, Rommel let out a squeal in Randy’s ear. “They’re taking him!”

  The unneeded exclamation jarred Mayor Collins. Not by much, but just enough that the shot was down just a few degrees from where he intended. It didn’t hit Spencer, but it hit the wrists of the beasts carrying him. They jerked their hands down, and the human fell onto the side of the truck bed. He bounced and began his final descent to the ground, screaming in agonizing horror

  Spencer wheeled his arms in natural reaction to falling. Luckily for him, he landed on his head. His neck snapped, and his skull ruptured. The body may now be picked clean to the bone, but at least he wouldn’t be alive while it happened.

  ☠☠☠

  “No shit, dumbass!” Randy wanted to kill the fool beside him.

  Seeing his last tracer, the mayor knew close combat would soon begin. With only a few enemies left on the truck, he felt better about the odds. Nothing could stop the enemy from coming in, and the rounds from Rommel’s revolver only took down one. They drug the little man out and began carrying him. Randy knew he had one rifle round left.

  In a split-second decision, he decided on exploding the head of a zombie in the bed of the truck not carrying the little man. It might be considered cruel, but the mayor could live with the cold decision. The zombies would deal a severely adequate justice. Though he might feel guilt for this razor-sharp reasoning later, he knew nothing the people of Guntersville could do to Rommel would compare in the slightest to the punishment the murderer would rightfully receive.

  Rommel cried and begged for help as the peevies stood at the tailgate. They held him over the edge and dropped him. His wailing was momentarily stopped by a sound that wasn’t a body impacting the hard ground. The waiting revenants caught the falling man! The group of creatures on the ground screamed in delight. Though small, this cattle would serve to feed the horde for several nights!

  Randy unsheathed his Nexus Blade when the yellow-eyed animals turned back to him. He paused when they stood in the truck bed and waited. They seemed to be tapping their feet! The animals wanted to square off!

  He climbed out of broken window into the bed of the truck. Randy faced his enemies for a brawl to the death! He began slashing and cutting with his sword. The downed beasts succumbed to blood loss or dismemberment. There were two enemies left, pivoting to come at him from separate angles. In all of this blood and shit, he wasn’t expecting to recognize faces.

  He squinted. “Barry? Tilde?” The male had obviously been shaved completely bald before the infection. Even with fuzz now growing on the top of his head, Randy recognized the peevies. Barry Gage, Bradley’s father.

  The other was female. It was rare to see a female peevie. Most were tucked away somewhere, pregnant with the next generation of monsters. Only older females that were not able to bear children would be on the hunt. There was no need for them not to be good workers if there was nothing in the oven.

  Bradley’s parents! These peevies had been people he knew. Though never close, he was able to recognize them, even being blue and covered in weeks old crusty shit, blood, and mud. There was absolutely no way these two being paired was a coincidence. Were they aware of the past they shared together before the infection? Were they paired as anything more than hunting partners? These were questions The Medicine Man would love to research. For Randy, there wasn’t time to stop and think about it. “Hey, Tilde. Your meatloaf always sucked!” God that felt great to say!

  Both revenants charged the mayor clad in his Storm Knight armor simultaneously. Pushing the creature that was formerly Barry Gage back with one arm, he sliced into what used to be Barry’s wife. He sliced clean to the bone on the front of its left thigh and jammed his sword against the leg bone on the inside of its right thigh. The peevie knew, just as the mayor, that the femoral artery had been sliced. Dark blood began pouring from the gaping gash. There would be only a few minutes left in the creature’s un-life. The reanimated corpse threw itself onto Randy, causing him to lose footing in the slush of undead remains pooled in the truck bed behind them.

  Now on his back, elbow deep in guts, shit and brains, unable to swing his sword in the close quarters fighting; he appeared bested. Mayor Collins smiled as the blue cannibal’s teeth shattered on his reinforced armor. Dropping his blade, he stiff-armed the creature in the throat. It’s windpipe collapsed under Randy's weighted, plated fingers. The animal drew back, gasping and trying to get air into its lungs. Lack of oxygen would render the beast unconscious shortly, but the severed artery would inevitably end its life before suffocation.

  Not forgetting his last opponent, Randy sat up and was knocked onto his back once more by a full body tackle. Peevies didn’t seem enraged more so than usual about the loss of a comrade. The zombie formerly known as Barry put a hand on either side of the mayor’s helmet and attempted to pull the head cover lose.

  Similarly, Randy placed both hands on the once slick head of the demon. An electronic buildup could be heard humming through the armor. The blue cranium suddenly exploded between the Storm Gauntlets.

  What had been a snarling monster now had no face. Everything above the collarbones became like a watermelon at a Gallagher show. The now truly dead body went rigid then instantly limp as the brain was completely destroyed. Nothing significant enough to be a solid tooth remained of what had once been a head. Forcibly kicking itself backward with body jerking spasms the defunct peevie lay on the bed of the truck, convulsing from the residual electric current. Randy could smell an unnatural coppery ozone in the air.

  Randy would never be able to tell Bradley what had just happened here. He thought he himself might be comforted knowing his infected parents had finally been put to peace. But then, he would want to know the details. Randy knew that he would hate whoever did that to his kin. So, Bradley, the paraplegic bodybuilder could never know anything about what just happened. It might leave The Old Friend always questioning and always looking for his loved ones, but being eternally restless would be better than knowing the horrible truth of their demise.

  Unknown to Randy this would be one of the last days he would have both hands. He would’ve used the appendage more if he had known. Driving, climbing a ladder, and pulling a trigger thousands of times wouldn�
��t have been enough and vaporizing what was at one time a friend’s skull wasn't one of the last things he wanted to do with his right hand. But then, it wasn’t his decision.

  5

  Memoirs of Benji:

  One

  Another entry into my memoirs obviously means we had an eventful trip and I made it back alive.

  This day started like all the other days we did a fly-over to find survivors. I don’t think I need to tell you who was flying with me. I’m beginning to think that maybe all the other people who volunteered to risk their lives, rescuing complete strangers, just never show up. Or my co-pilot, Devin Landers, is secretly giving them the heads up that they will most likely meet a horrible death on these trips.

  Regardless, this morning was like any other morning; nothing unusual. None of the thousands of the cadets enrolled in the Collins Rescue Your Fellow Man From Turning Blue School were waiting in the hangar. Imagine that.

  As I walked into the hanger, it was pitch-black, and I began fumbling for a switch to turn the lights on.

  Maybe I’m just a coward. But now whenever I enter a darkened building, especially a cavernous enclosure like an airplane hangar, it scares the shit out of me. On the island, I should know better than to even worry about blunatics charging me, but still, momma didn't raise no fool!

  I eventually found the switch for the lights and quickly turned them on, only to find Devin sitting with his feet hanging out of the door to the plane’s tiny cockpit. Not a care in the world, just spinning a few links of his chain in a small circle in front of him. He was, of course, outfitted in his Ghost Rider’s black, spiked leather jacket. He looked up at me and grinned. “You ready?”

  With him here, I knew there was something I would have to be prepared for. My shoulders slumped, and I sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  ☠☠☠

  Being one of the first search and rescue missions attempted from the air, we followed the main roads out of town and up over the mountain. Reclamation teams had already cleared most of all the highways. This meant there were plenty of landing areas if there happened to be a need for a quick touchdown. Those scouts on land had been pretty successful in rescuing survivors; we were hoping a buzzing airplane would be noticeable to anyone remaining in the area that had been missed, or not turned blue.

  Well, I’m sure any of the yellow-eyed monsters that were awake would probably notice us. Here’s hoping they don’t come out! It was uncommon to see one of the former humans in the open daylight, but not completely unheard of. They’d been nocturnal until about a month after May Day. No one understood why they suddenly seemed to evolve. Is that the right word? Maybe. At least the peevies seem to drastically alter their behavior with no warning. Evolution usually takes generations to be successful. Either way, by this point I’m surprised they’re not already laying out and getting a tan!

  As we approached the Albertville area, we noticed someone flashing a signal from atop the Kmart building near the main intersection of Highway 431 and Highway 75. Drawing closer, we discovered there were several figures actually. I was a little giddy.

  It seemed at first, more than one person had survived, and they were waiting to be rescued! If we had known what kind of animals these sadists were, we would’ve bombed Kmart into oblivion long ago.

  But then a thought hit me. How is it possible for a group of survivors, living in the middle of Albertville, not to see other bands of humans? They should’ve seen the reclamation teams roaring through the city since scouting began. There must have been other groups of survivors they would have come in contact with. There would have been the occasional individual at least. Maybe even a family passing by, making their way to the safe haven of Guntersville. Even if they had passed unnoticed, these people undoubtedly would have seen our scouts! Something smells rotten in the Albertville Kmart, and it is not the rotten produce in the grocery aisle.

  Then again maybe they just decided to remain cautious and steered clear of contact with armored, organized groups of four-wheel driving rednecks, wearing camouflage. Have you ever seen a group of human antagonists in any post-apocalyptic story, that isn’t mostly bearded white guys carrying lots of weapons, wearing Mossy Oak and driving pickups? These people may have been justified remaining unnoticed.

  Maybe I should join in on some land salvaging expeditions. How confusing would it be to anyone to see a camouflaged Asian guy, in a pickup? I might even smoke a cigar or something. The bad guys wouldn’t even put up a fight! Their brains would just explode.

  OK. Are you done picturing an Asian Grizzly Adams, slaughtering zombies with a bullwhip, yet? Back to the story! Well, that is if you think you want to know about even more crazy shit that is beyond fucked up. It’s disturbing to see how twisted humans can be even when we’re an endangered species.

  ☠☠☠

  When we drew closer, it became more apparent that the flashes weren’t signals at all. There was a small war taking place in the Kmart parking lot. That building was the castle being attacked by people with small arms. Wonder who would win the day?

  Just exactly which side portrayed the better intentions, defender or attacker, were still unclear from the air. Who were the good guys? Just as I decided to circle the battle scene again to see if I could decide who was who, the defenders on the roof started launching small caliber rounds at the plane!

  Shit, that kind of settled it. I mean, why would you open fire on a completely unbiased spectator unless you didn’t want anyone to see what you were doing? I was just looking, man!

  I flew on, circling back around, landing on the northbound lane of Highway 431. Touching down we taxied until the plane sat in front of the Santa Fe Cattle Company Steakhouse, and a Bojangles. Devin and I started hoofing it down the highway to meet up with our new allies. Not knowing if they would actually be our allies or not when we got there, but the other guys shot at my plane! My copilot didn’t disapprove, so it would all have to work out. At least that has been the assumption so far. I know, I said assume, and we all know what happens when you assume. “You’re always where you are supposed to be,” right?

  Passing the abandoned Burger King, the only cover between us and Kmart was the China King All You Can Eat Buffet. I could see the attackers taking cover behind parked cars in the lower section of the parking lot which was at a disadvantage due to the hill the Kmart sat on. They just didn’t give off a vibe of being murdering rapists, so I’d give them the benefit of the doubt.

  “What’s going on?” I screamed over the gunfire and shouting of people focused entirely on combat.

  This could’ve been a foolish move on my part. They hadn’t yet noticed me, and I could have observed for a while longer to try and discover their intent. If they were going to be immediately hostile to me, they could’ve just blown us away when I screamed out like an idiot. Before I yelled like a retard, I would’ve hoped Devin would’ve stopped me, if it wasn’t part of the plan. Actually, maybe it was part of the plan for me to get riddled with bullets, so he would allow that. Shit, now I’m scaring myself! Who knows, they could be like I was about the dark, but instead it's about strangers yelling questions in their ears in the middle of a gunfight!

  A startled man looked over at me. “You got a radio?” he yelled.

  I nodded, and he spoke to one of the other men. He turned back to me and told me what channel to switch to. What kind of bad guys, would give me their radio channel and offer to have a conversation with me?

  “I say, State your name and business, boy!” Blinking, I looked to the man yards away, speaking to me through the radio. He didn’t look like Foghorn Leghorn.

  “My name is Benjamin Collins.” Almost forgetting any formality, I quickly made an addition. “I was a Flight Officer in the United States Navy. With whom am I speaking?”

  “Not important.” I guess cordiality went out with civilization.

  After a few seconds, I realized that was all the greeting I was going to get. “Well, what’s going on here
, bubba?”

  I could see the man thumb to Kmart. “Those sumbitches took my wife and girls! They ain’t the only ones they took, neither.” He spits out of his side of his mouth. “We’re here to get them back!” Not-Foghorn Leghorn said through a wet and sloppy mouthful of chaw.

  Well, it looks like I picked the right side; unless these guys enslaved the women, to begin with, and are delusional in “rescuing” them. I know, I know, I’m overthinking it. I do that sometimes.

  “Well, I think we can help you with that.” I turned to tell my copilot to sneak around to the other side of the Domino’s building, which was in a better strategic location than we were in now, and put down a few of the guys on the roof. He was already gone. I hate it when he does that.

  There’s no way to know if he’s already read this entire screenplay or if he only gets each scene just before it unfolds. If he woke up this morning with every minor detail already played out in his head, what the hell’s the point in waiting until now to go over there? Why even follow me to this point? He could’ve gone over there, popped every single one of them, and gone in the building to save the day. Maybe it’s just coming to him one snippet at a time. Or maybe they just had to expend a certain number of rounds before he would be allowed to act.

  From around the corner of the Domino’s building, several small pops sounded. I could tell from the ricochet’s pitch and angle it was enemy fire from the roof of the Kmart. No death screams were heard. The shots from the enemy tapered with each round from Devin’s M4 until things grew completely still and silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

  The four men crouching behind the parked trucks peeked over their cover. No movement. No sound. Nothing. It was like there had been no shooters on the top of the Kmart. How the hell did he do that?