Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  “Doc’s already been out to ‘ave a look-see. He didn’t want her over at the infirmary for some reason, prob’ly ‘cause she’s not a boy.” He chuckled at his own joke then broke into a cough. “Look, Gimli. She’s just a sad lass. Nothin’ to be afraid of mate. See if she needs some water or another blanket, it’s getting real chilly in here. Maybe that’ll calm her whining down. Just remember, she’s a bit off. Like I said, don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Gimli said, bending down and scooping up the coin. His voice had cracked a little betraying his state of mind to the other jailer. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then quit pissin’ around and ‘ave a look-see.” Carson smirked as he rested his booted feet back on the desktop.

  “Yeah.” Gimli trembled a little at the moans from inside the cell as he fumbled for the right key. With shaky hand he inserted the door key into the lock and quickly gave it a hard turn to the right. The lock clicked open with a sound that reverberated throughout Gimli’s entire body. The guard, still a little unnerved, glanced over his shoulder at his partner. Carson sat with his hands behind his neck and his eyes closed. Apparently, it was just Gimli that heard the thunderous sound of the lock opening. It was all in the young guard's head. Wiping some sweat from his brow he proceeded to pull open the heavy, iron door. Slowly peering inside the darkened cell, Gimli could see Sarah lying flat on her back, eyes closed. Wishing he’d grabbed an oil lamp before he entered the foul-smelling cell, the jailer quietly stepped a little closer to the woman’s limp form. Sarah had stopped making the weird animal noises and was now just lightly snoring. Relieved, and satisfied that she had finally fallen asleep, Gimli turned to head back out the doorway. That is when Sarah jumped to her feet and hungrily leapt onto the man’s back sending him crashing to the stone floor head first and knocking him out.

  “Hurry up Gimli. Shift'll be up soon and I won’t be able to take all yer money.” Carson still had his eyes closed as he starting humming ‘The Day I Will Be Free’ to himself. That song always made him think of his time in the military. He coughed again and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. Maybe tomorrow he would call off sick. A sudden crashing and growling sound came from inside the cell causing the older guard to sit up and quickly open his eyes.

  “Gimli?” Carson shouted, as he reached for the club that sat next to his stack of half-sovereigns. More growls and other horrible sounds were coming from inside the darkened cell. Carson grabbed the club off the desktop, sending his pile of coins clattering to the floor, and swiftly stood up making a sprint for the open doorway. “Gimli!”

  The bigger guard skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. Carson had seen many horrible things during his time in the military, but nothing like this. Gimli lay face down and unconscious on the cold, stone floor; Sarah sat on the centre of his back with his left arm up to her mouth. On closer inspection, Carson could see the woman was chewing on his forearm, tearing big chunks of flesh away as she ravenously fed.

  “Hey!” Carson shouted, his voice cracked and was high and shrill as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening to his partner. “Let go of his arm ya bloody animal! He’s just a bleedin’ kid!”

  Sarah glanced up with odd, milky white eyes at the big jailer, blood and strips of flesh dripped from her broken teeth and she gave the man a strange and unhinged grin. Gripping the club, white knuckled, Carson took a step back shivering at the sight of the ghoul that was now devouring his fellow jailer, alive. Sarah seemed to disregard Carson’s presence and continued to tear at what remained of Gimli’s arm.

  “Fuckin’ animal!” Carson screamed, as he swung the club heavily at Sarah’s shoulder. The impact of the blow knocked the woman off the guard’s still form and sent her crashing to the floor. Feeling a little more empowered and in control, Carson took a step towards Gimli’s body. Sarah did an odd, fast, jittery movement and stood up. She let out a wet, slobbering growl and charged at the jailer. Holding his ground despite every urge to run, Carson swung the club again; this time he caught Sarah on the right side of her head. The crazed woman let out a big gulp of air, spraying black and red spittle everywhere then collapsed to the floor unmoving.

  “What the fook was all that?” Carson muttered to himself as he tried to catch his breath and walked over to where Sarah lay sprawled. Using a booted foot, he nudged her in the chest and got no response. Her blistered, pus oozing right arm, dropped to the ground as he jabbed her once more. A moaning came from behind causing him to spin around. Gimli was starting to come to. Shoving his club into his belt ring, he grabbed the wounded jailer by his good arm and dragged him out of the cell.

  “Hold on kid. I got ya,” he said, trying to soothe his injured partner. “Help!” Carson shouted. “We need some fuckin’ help down here!”

  MARY BUGG

  Mary Bugg glanced out across the inky black darkness of the bay that separates Cockatoo Island from the mainland. She was a tall, powerful woman from one of New Zealand’s Maori tribes. Her father had worked on one of the Queen’s frigates and he’d ended up staying in Melbourne. Mary’s mother was a working woman who died of consumption when she was twelve, her father was lost at sea shortly after. Mary Bugg and her older brother and sister became wards of the state. Mary, Nico and Esther were quickly separated. Nico found himself in a workhouse, then moved to a farm. About two years later Mary received a letter from Nico saying his was alive and well working on a horse ranch. Esther was never heard from again; Mary was later informed her sister had also died of consumption shortly after they were separated.

  Alone, the attractive Maori girl soon found that she could survive on her own, that was until she ran into Fred Ward.

  Mary sighed as she listened to the dark water gently lap against the shoreline. The sound was rhythmic and soothing. When Mary had met Ward it was lust at first sight, love came awhile later. The raven-haired Maori found she could depend and, much more important than that, trust the rough shod, petty criminal. Trust was an important trait for the woman that had been taken advantage of too many times in her short life.

  Mary had even reconnected with her brother Nico. The older sibling had been able to actually earn a living and eventually buy a small tract of land in the Outback. Her and Ward occasionally would stay with Nico, his wife and three children. As luck would have it, two girls and a boy. Mary couldn’t have children. The attractive Maori woman was barren. She always figured it had happened when she was violently raped in an alley in Sydney when she was sixteen. Mary had shoved the violent sexual assault into the back of her mind, trying to lock the vile memory away forever. What really hurt her was never being able to have children with the man she truly loved. They’d been together nine years and still weren’t officially married. Ward always told her that they didn’t need a piece of paper to bind them together, they had something stronger, which was their love. He told her he’d try to settle down and do some real work. They both knew that was a lie. He was caught up in the life, he loved what he did. Mary often wondered if he loved it more than he did her.

  When Ward was put away this time and it looked like he’d be locked up for years, Mary just snapped. Ten years was a long time without her love. Mary had come to depend on the wannabe outlaw, something she promised herself she’d never ever do. It had been her idea to swim out to the island and drop off the escape tools. Ward didn’t like it at first, he thought it was too dangerous but she insisted. Finally, Ward gave in. He didn’t fancy being locked up for ten years. He’d miss his freedom and, of course, his hard luck woman, Mary.

  Mary glanced around the darkness to make sure she was alone on the rocky stretch of beach. The only thing she could see were the flickering oil lights from the city. Satisfied she wasn’t being observed by the Harbor Patrol, Mary shrugged off her dress, the sultry December air felt good against her bare skin. Reaching down by her feet she picked up the pack that held the escape tools and shouldered into it. Mary had always been a strong swimmer and the backpack wouldn’t be m
uch of a hindrance to her. Dipping a toe in the black water she was grateful to find it was nice and warm. Quickly looking around once more, Mary dove into the water.

  About halfway across Mary started thinking about sharks. She’d always been told the bay was full of them and now, in the middle of the ocean, she was starting to think maybe she’d made a mistake. Taking a breath, Mary swam several more feet before stopping to rest. The currents weren’t too bad so at least she didn’t have to expend much strength fighting against them. It was just the water was so dark she couldn’t tell if something was below or near her. That was really starting to mentally freak her out. The full moon gave enough light so she could see the island alright, it was what she could not see that was really playing mind games with her. Well, sharks be damned! Mary took another breath and swam faster toward the island.

  When she had finally reached the shoreline, Mary flopped onto the soft sand trying to catch her breath. After a few well-deserved minutes of rest, Mary got to her feet, her stomach and legs covered in the grainy white sand. She was actually quite a beautiful sight in the moonlight. Anyone passing by would have stopped dead in their tracks but, luckily for Mary this strip of white, sandy beach was empty. Watching for any movement she saw none and on tired legs she hurried over to where Ward wanted her to hide the tools.

  She meticulously counted out the paces Ward had written down in his letter. She carefully moved along the sea wall the inmates were building looking for the hiding spot. Twenty paces. Mary stopped and glanced around for any guards, no one. She caught the huge shadow of the prison in the distance. The big man-made structure was an imposing sight in the darkness. It sent a chill down her spine and she quickly covered her breasts with her sinewy arms. Something dark and soul crushing enveloped Mary as she stood staring at the prison. Cockatoo Island would have been a nice place to get away from the daily grind of life if it wasn’t for that damned monstrosity that covered most of the island, Mary thought to herself. She shuddered in the warm night time air. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed knowing it was just her head screwing with her. Returning her attention to the task at hand, she dropped the pack at her feet and knelt down behind the wall. At the spot Ward had marked out, Mary withdrew a small trowel from the rucksack and quickly dug a hole big enough to drop the cloth wrapped lock picks into. Once she’d done that, Mary buried the tools and stamped down the sand making it look untouched. Peering around she saw the coast was still clear of any guards. Mary stashed the trowel in her wet pack and slung it over her shoulders. Ever vigilant, she watched for any roving guards, seeing none.

  She found a secluded spot to rest for a little bit before diving back into the blackness of the bay. Smiling to herself she sat down between some large rocks that hid any trace of her. Mary really hoped that Ward appreciated how much she loved his sorry behind. He was probably the only man, besides her brother, that she’d ever risk her life for. Mary used the backpack as a pillow and curled up in the safety of the big rocks. About an hour later she woke from a hard, dreamless sleep. Mary felt a little refreshed from the quick nap. It was still dark and from the position of the moon she figured she still had a few hours before sunrise. Glancing around she saw the beach was still devoid of any guard presence. Good. Wiping some sleep slobber from her lips, she stood and gave herself a good stretch. Turning back to the dark waters of the bay, she nodded to herself and spoke.

  “Come on, Mary, old girl, you can do it.” She whispered trying to give herself a little pep talk. With that she bent down and grabbed up the pack. She didn’t want the bloody guards to find it and think something was amiss. With any luck Ward would be in her arms within a day or two. Looking back over her shoulders she saw it was still clear. Mary slowly walked waist deep into the warm water, the pale moonlight illuminated the Maori women's brown skin giving her an eerie glow. Taking a breath, Mary dove headfirst into the bay.

  BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS

  The Chow Hall

  The mood in the chow hall the next morning was quiet and tense. The old wood and brick building wasn’t the best of places to start out with but today the usual feeling of dread and loneliness was multiplied. As Ward shovelled in a mouthful of, what passed for, oatmeal he couldn't quite figure out the dark change in moods. He’d been up all night excited and worried. Excited at the prospect of escaping the damn hellhole they called an island. Ward was even more worried about the safety of his love Mary Bugg. The criminal knew though, that if anyone could make it back and forth across the bay it would be her. And if Mary failed, he’d be stuck on this damn island for years. Grinding the gritty breakfast around in his mouth he glanced over at his partner, Britten, who was equally disturbed by the underlying feeling of uneasiness in the chow hall. Most of the other convicts had seemed to pick up on the darkness and were silently eating. Even the guards seemed to stick to themselves occasionally whispering to each other and slowly nodding.

  “What is going on this morn’?” Britten asked, almost breaking a tooth on a stale piece of bread.

  “You feeling it too?” Ward asked. His thick-headed cellmate just nodded as he ripped his bread into smaller pieces, dumping them on top of his oatmeal. “They have a couple of guards from the brick factory workin’ chow today. I heard there was some kind of sickness goin’ around.”

  “Maybe they found ol’ Mary?” Britten whispered through a mouthful of oatmeal and bread.

  “Shut your cake hole!” Ward snapped. One of the guards glanced over in their direction, just mildly interested in the convict’s outburst. Ward smiled at the guard then took a drink from the metal cup filled with the sludge they called coffee. Seeing there wasn’t a problem, the guard turned to watch the rest of the chow hall.

  “Mary is fine,” he said quietly, trying to ease his own fears for his wife’s safety.

  “Sorry mate.” Britten whispered. “I was jus’ thinkin’ out loud.”

  “Don’t think.” Ward winced as he took another drink of the nasty coffee. “Can’t we get some tea around here?”

  “Then that would be a bit too humane.” Britten chuckled.

  “Probably break the Queen’s back.” Ward smirked.

  “I apologize ‘bout what I said ‘bout Mary. I guess I’m just kinda riled up about ... well you know.”

  Ward nodded and brought the metal cup up to his lips. “Mary is fine. If they’d found out anything these bulls would have thrown us in the hole by now.” He took a sip from the coffee and frowned. “Something else is botherin’ our gaolers.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.” He set the cup down on the table. “Maybe they ran out of tea.” Britten laughed at that as he shovelled an oatmeal covered piece of bread in his mouth. Ward gave him a quick smile, but in his gut he knew something bad was brewing.

  All day long the guards were busy or distracted by something that had happened the night before. Ward had been worried that maybe something terrible had befallen his beloved Mary and that maybe Cockatoo Island would now be his permanent home. The work gang on the seawall was unusually quiet this morning. Even the ever-dependable John Mort wasn’t flapping gums, spouting off some of his usual nonsense. Smiley and the younger guard, Finn, led the team of gaolers that supervised the inmate work crew. Ward noticed both men looked tired and their uniforms were more wrinkled than usual.

  “Ward?” Britten whispered, as he carried a bucket of cement over to where his partner stood near the seawall. Ward held the handle of a wheel barrow with his left hand and gave him a quick signal with his right hand to be quiet. Britten gave him a curt nod which really surprised the other man that he had understood.

  “Day dreamin’ there Captain?” Smiley asked as he approached Ward from behind.

  “No, sir.” He replied through clenched teeth. Ward made a mark with his booted foot. That should be the exact spot where Mary had buried the lock picks. Ward turned and faced the larger man. “Feeling a little under the weather, that’s all... sir.”

  “Yeah... well…” Smi
ley coughed into his paw sized hand. Ward could tell the guard was sick. “Quit acting like a li’l’ twat and get back to work… Captain.”

  “Sir.” Ward nodded. The other guard, Finn, had heard the exchange between both men and found it odd that Ward hadn’t been confrontational and Smiley hadn’t threatened him with his baton.

  When he finally found the lock picks buried where he and Mary had agreed upon Ward was relieved, knowing she had least made it to the island and not been captured by the prison staff or eaten by sharks.

  “Arrrggghhh!” Ward jumped a little at the screams that erupted behind him. Instinctively dropping the handles of the wheelbarrow he’d just grabbed, Ward quickly turned in the direction of the noise. Other inmates on the work crew had also stopped doing their jobs and were staring past him.

  “Well, fuck me, mate!” John Mort said, rubbing his sunburned head as he gave Ward a sly, sideways glance. “Looks like yer boy has finally gone loony.”

  “What-?” Ward saw Britten flopping around on the ground like a fish that had run aground. His partner was snarling and spitting, trying real hard to foam at the mouth. Finn and some of the other guards were standing, along with the work crew, watching Britten’s act. No one was sure what to do. Even the giant guard Smiley stood dumbstruck.