“Aaaaaaaahhhh!” McSmithee screamed, as Carson hungrily gobbled down his digits, blood squirted from his damaged hand and shot all over the dead guard’s face. A jarring pain came from his crotch as Pierre buried his head into his groin jaws eagerly finding his member. The inmate let out a terrifying keening sound as the orderly began to devour his manhood.
“No... no... no.” Dobbs stood tightly grabbing his bleeding wound, crimson leaking through his tense fingers. He was literally frozen to the spot as he helplessly stared at the horrifying things the two blood covered men were doing to McSmithee. He knew he should help, or run for help, but he just couldn’t get his feet to move. The sights and sounds were just beyond his worst nightmares. When the two red soaked men had finished rendering the convicts unmoving corpse, they turned their blood splattered attention towards Dobbs.
“No! Please!” The guard said, desperately trying to move his feet. “Please, no!” Dobbs was now in tears.
The Carson thing slowly rose to a standing position followed by the gruesome Pierre. Both men’s lifeless faces were slick with McSmithee’s blood. Strings of red flesh dripped from their mouths as they quickly opened and shut them. The dead men let out a terrifying moaning sound as they now stumbled in Dobbs’ direction.
“Help!” The guard tried to scream but it only came out as a croak. Dobbs could feel the warmth filling his trousers as he shamelessly pissed himself. Sobbing, he put his shaky and sanguine stained hands out in front of him, pleading with the dead men to stop. That was when he felt the unbearable pain in the back of his right calf. Dobbs looked behind him to see Gimli taking a chunk out of his leg. The man screamed as he tumbled backwards to the ground, landing right on top of Gimli’s back. The other two, then zombies, fell upon Dobbs as he tried in vain to fight off the hungry undead. Carson ravenously tore into his neck, blood spraying like a fountain all over his lifeless, uncaring face. Before he passed out from blood loss and shock, Dobbs saw the reanimated corpse that was once McSmithee stumble to its feet and shakily head his way. The guard, again, tried to scream but this time Pierre had been able to jam his hand down Dobbs throat and rip out his tongue.
PRISON BREAK
“What the bleedin’ ‘ell?” Fred Britten rolled over and sat up in his bunk. Shouts and the far-off jangle of keys from the prison guards pulled him from his nice warm dreams of soft women. He glanced down at the empty lower bunk, looking for his cellie. Fred Ward was already up and pressing himself against the bars trying to get a look at what was going on.
“Quiet!” Ward whispered, as he peered through the narrow spaces between the cool cell bars. Britten tossed off his blanket and slid from the top bunk to the floor.
“What’s going on?” He glanced around the cell as he whispered.
“I heard ya the first time.” Ward put up a hand to silence his partner. Britten just pursed his lips together, frustrated. After several long minutes the sound died down and it was just the mumblings of the other confused inmates. Ward turned away from the bars and faced his cellie. Britten raised his hands in question.
“Something happened in the infirmary.” Ward said in a low tone. “All the damn guards are runnin’ around like scared mice.”
“That is not good mate.” Britten said, worry thick in his voice.
“It may be good for us. They’re busy dealing with whatever is happenin’ in the infirmary, we make a break for it.”
“Now?” Britten furrowed his brows in surprise, still wrapped up in the lull of his romantic dreams.
“Now.” Ward said curtly, nodded and then hurried over to his bunk. Carefully reaching under his pillow he pulled out two, four-inch lock picks.
“That’s the bleedin’ tools Mary swam over?”
“Yeah,” Ward nodded then glanced around making sure none of the guards had returned. “These will open our door. We just need to get the key to the cell block door. I’m not sure if these will work on the big one.”
“No problem, mate.” Britten said sarcastically. “I’m sure ol’ Smiley would be more ‘an ‘appy to give us his.”
“Shut ya gob!” Ward said loudly, as he proceeded to stick his arms through the bars and over to the lock. Using both the picks, he inserted them into the keyhole opening on the other side of the door. After a long couple of minutes, Ward was able to manipulate the lock mechanism and release the door bar. With a loud click, the cell door swung open. Using his free hand, Ward caught the heavy barred door before it could crash into the other side bars of the cell. Tucking the lock picks into his pants, he turned to Britten.
“Ya gonna stand there catchin’ flies or are ya comin’?”
The other inmate just nodded and quickly followed Ward out of the cell and into the dimly lit hallway. The oil lamps on the wall flickered back and forth casting foreboding shadows on the walls. Since their cell was the first one in the hallway none of the other prisoners noticed the two as they stealthily made their way toward the main entrance. Ward stopped beside the wall and put up a hand for Britten to hold up. The musky smell of unwashed men wafted through the night air. Ward was used to all the familiar prison smells. He really couldn’t wait to be out of here. Peering through the open doorway, Ward saw it was clear. He then waved Britten forward.
“Where is everyone?” The other convict asked, a little too loudly.
“Shut it!” Ward quickly moved down the empty entrance way toward the front door. He could hear the usual sound of John Mort’s snoring. The inmate snores so loud that he couldn’t have a cellimate for fear of a fight breaking out. Ward didn’t know how many nights the codger, who lived three cells away, had kept him up until the wee hours of the morning. Now Ward was grateful for the man’s nocturnal noises. Maybe Mort’s snores would hide some of their escape. Ward moved like a man on a mission, while Britten followed behind all nervous and jittery. Ward stopped at the heavy iron front door of the cell block. He looked back at the two rows of twenty cells. No one had noticed them.
“What do we do now?” His partner whispered. Ward glanced down at the vacant officer’s desk then put a finger to his lips, motioning for Britten to post a lookout. The other inmate nodded and turned to watch for any guards lurking about. Ward stepped over to the desk and carefully riffled through it.
After a few minutes of intense searching, Ward tapped Britten on the shoulder. Britten almost let out a shriek as he jumped.
“I nearly shat me pants!” The convict said a little shaky.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Ward said, voice full of disappointment. “A key would have made it so much easier.”
“Fuck now, mate?”
“I’ll try and pick them. You keep a watch.”
“Try openin’ it first, mate.” Britten nodded in the door’s direction. “Ya never know, you said they was in a hurry. Plus, we’re all locked up.” He smirked.
“Britten...” He started to say something foul to the other convict but thought what the hell and gave the big handle a hard yank. Surprisingly enough the big door creaked open. The inmate grinned and chuckled to himself. What kind of good luck was this? In all their haste, one of the guards had forgotten to secure the door. Ward could not believe his good fortune, especially on a suggestion by Britten. He slowly yanked the door open and glanced out, expecting Smiley to be standing there with that awful grin and his big baton waiting to strike, instead he was greeted by the warm night air.
“Clear?” Britten asked in a whisper. Ward just nodded a response. To his far right, in the distance, he could see the oil lamps of the guards that were all gathered around the infirmary building. Turning back to his cellie, he gave Britten a sly grin.
“Guards are all at the infirmary. Apparently, this is just our lucky day.” He grinned in the darkness.
Ward and Britten scampered along the shadows and cover of the prison buildings as they attempted to make their way to the beach. Both men were astounded by the lack of guards as they carefully passed in and out of the cover provided by the many different
living areas of the prison. Whatever was happening at the infirmary was now definitely playing out in their favour. Ward suddenly heard the jingle of keys and quickly stopped and shoved Britten back against the big cinder block wall. The darkness and shadows kept the two men hidden from sight. Ward placed his hand over his partner’s mouth as two guards hurried by them.
“... Ain’t seen nothin’ like it!” One of the guards said to the other.
“Yeah, but where the fook are they?” The second guard’s voice cracked a little as they made a beeline for the prisons main cell block. “Did ya see all the blood?”
“Looked like a damn scene outta hell...” The men’s voices faded in the distance as they sped off.
“That was close.” Ward said, pulling his hand from over his partner’s mouth.
“Why the ‘ell you do that?” Britten asked indignant. “I can keep me mouth shut.”
“Just helpin’ mate. Don’t be getting’ yer shorts all in a wad. We need to get movin’ while the guards are all busy.”
“Yeah.” Britten nodded, still a little bit hurt from the other convicts embarrassing attempt at keeping him quiet. “Let’s move then,” he grumbled.
“Aw,” Ward said in a hushed tone. “Does yer twat hurt?”
“You didn’t have to cover me mouth like a child, Ward. I’m a grown man for fucksakes!”
“Yeah.” Ward could see if he didn’t soothe his partner’s feelings this whole thing would spin out of hand. Being this close to freedom he needed to get Britten under control before the other convict got them caught. “Sorry ‘bout that Fred. I am. It was just a natural reaction. I apologize mate.” He rested a hand on his shoulder. “We good?”
Britten nodded. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks mate. I’m just wound a little tight. Escapin’ an’ all. They catch me this time I’m never gettin’ out.”
“I get that, Fred.” Ward patted him on the shoulder. “We’re almost there. Hold your mud a little longer and we’ll be free.”
The two convicts could smell and taste the salt air of the ocean as they worked their way farther out of the confines of the prison. Both men knelt down in the cover of the shadows as one of the perimeter guards walked past, nervously swinging his lamp back and forth. Once the man turned back toward the prison, they scurried past the brick retaining wall and down to the beach. The roar of the ocean tide was loud in their ears as they tasted the salty air. Freedom would soon be theirs. Stopping at the edge of the sand, Ward scanned his surroundings, expecting the presence of the patrolling guards. To his surprise they were still alone. Quickly pulling off his shirt and pants, Ward gave out a sigh of relief.
“We've done it.” Ward patted his partner on the shoulder. “We are free men!”
“Not yet, Ward. We still have to swim the bloody thing.” Britten groaned as he yanked off his grimy prison pants.
“Easy peasy, Fred.” Ward’s reverie was interrupted by the sound of feet shuffling across the uneven sand. Reaching down to his discarded pile of clothes he fumbled for the sharp lock picks. No idiot guard was going to stop him from reaching his beloved Mary.
“No bloody way!” Britten stumbled backwards toward the surf as a dark figure stumbled in their direction. In the pale moonlight Ward recognized it as the guard Carson.
“Carson!” Ward raised the lock pick threateningly above his head. “Jus’ let us go mate and I won’t have to hurt ya none!” The guard just let out a weird growl and continued stumbling towards them. “I’m warnin’ you!”
“There’s somethin’ wrong with him, Ward!” Britten shouted, as he could now see the bloodied and torn figure better.
“What?” The thing that had been Carson lept at Ward knocking him to the ground. The undead guard fell on top of Ward, hungrily tearing at his exposed flesh.
“Get the fuck off me!” Ward screamed, as he rolled the zombie off of him and onto its side. The convict swiftly got to his feet, unnerved by the crazed guards attack. The thing that had been Carson, shakily stood up and continued to head toward Ward. The inmate had dropped his lock picks when he was tackled so he raised his fist in a striking position. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you Carson but back off mate or I’ll beat ya to death!” The guard ignored the startled man’s threats and again leapt at Ward. This time the convict kept his feet as he struggled to keep the guard off him. Britten just stood frozen in fear as he watched his partner struggle with the foul-smelling guard.
Carson dug his dirty, broken fingernails into Wards bare shoulders tearing strips of flesh from them. The convict let out a yelp as he tried to pull himself free from the dead man's grip. Ward tripped on the uneven sand and stumbled back into the blood dripped guards’ arms. Carson quickly sunk his crimson-stained teeth into the man’s neck and ripped free a big chunk of flesh. Ward screamed and as warm blood splashed his face, he shoved the cannibal off of him. Staggering to his feet, he grabbed at his rapidly bleeding neck and stumbled toward the water.
“Ward!” Britten shouted to his friend. “Ward!”
“Go!” The other inmate weakly waved to his cellie as he lumbered forward, fatally wounded, into the welcoming surf. Stunned, Britten turned to see the Carson monster swiftly headed in his direction.
“No!” Britten put his hands in front of him as the cannibal charged toward him. “No!”
Ward heard his friend’s futile screams above the crashing of the ocean waves but he was too injured to do anything to help. Bleeding profusely from his wounds, Ward was knocked over by the heavy waves and swept out to sea. His last thoughts were of the beautiful Mary Bugg standing naked in the moonlight, arms open for a last embrace.
“Ward!” Britten screamed as Carson made a big slash across the inmate’s bare chest making a ragged furrow in his flesh. Britten cried as he fell backwards into the sand. Carson tripped over his legs and ended up crashing on top of him. Britten tried to put up a fight as the undead guards’ teeth snapped shut over his thumb and forefinger. With a loud crunching sound, Carson pulled the man’s digits free and quickly chewed them to a bloody pulp.
“Ward!” Britten let out another scream that turned into a gurgle as Carson ripped open the convict’s throat with his hands and shoved it in his mouth.
Britten collapsed back onto the sand, tears running down his cheeks. The last thing he saw before he vanished forever was Carson’s terrifying, snapping jaws coming back for more of his flesh.
BAD MOJO
The Next Morning - Cockatoo Island
“What a fuckin’ night.” The guard, Finn, said as he and another gaoler stared down at the savaged remains of Fred Britten. The inmate lay on the beach an apparent victim of a shark attack. Large chunks were bitten out of his chest and arms. His fingers on his right hand had all been chewed off and most of his head was missing. Britten’s corpse was also soaked and bloated from the sea water. Apparently, the current had washed the dead man back onto the beach.
“Who found him?” The senior guard asked.
“Godfrey, he saw a bunch of birds circling the beach and came down here to have a looksee.”
Finn just nodded as he studied the body before him, not relishing having to dump Britten’s remains in the canvas sack the younger guard carried.
“That is a nasty bit o’ work.” The other gaoler bent down and shooed away the massing flies. “Looks like some of his ‘ead is gone.”
“Sharks.” Finn sighed and glanced around the beach. “I guess it don’t matter what it tastes like to them. Can’t imagine old Britten was very fillin’ or tasty.”
“Fillin’ enough.” The guard stood up. “Think we’ll also find his buddy Ward?”
“One can only hope.” Finn crossed his arms. “His cell was empty, so I guess he’s out in the bay somewhere bein’ shark chum. He’s the least of our problems. We ‘ave a Doctor, orderly and four missin’ guards. Now, that’s a problem.”
“See all that blood outside the infirmary?” The guard shivered. “Somethin’ just ain't right.”
&
nbsp; Finn nodded in agreement. “Yeah, bad mojo for sure.” He patted the rifle that was slung across his chest. “Ain't nothin’ we can’t handle though.”
“I don’t know Finn.”
“Look mate, ain’t nothin’ in God’s green earth that a rifle can’t stop. In fact, my rifle here is a problem solver.” He glanced back down at Britten’s mangled corpse. “Bet I can even kill the ol’ shark that ate Fred with it.”
“Sure, Finn.” The guard unconvincingly replied. “Besides, that shark did us a favor. Couldn’t have ‘appened to a better pair o’ assholes.”
“Sure enough, help me bag him up and at least we’ll be done with this mess.”
Zombie Island Page 6
