“Yes Major!” Finn nodded. The young guard was also a combat veteran with a foot-long scar across his back from an Afghan blade. Finn had faced dire circumstances before and survived. Even escaping certain death in the past, he was as confused and afraid as the rest of the men. That experience though, had shown him what was really at stake...
“Smiley, you take five men and secure B wing. Same thing.”
“No problem, Major.” Smiley had an awful, tooth filled smile at the thought of being able to inflict uncontrollable pain on others. He found himself with a raging erection. Smiley wasn’t really getting the whole infected, undead thing. He did understand the carnage part.
“Bosco!” Kidd yelled at another guard. “I want you and the rest to set fire to all the wooden structures. And when the housing units are secure we burn them, also!”
“Yes sir!”
“What about the prisoners, Major?” Finn asked, horrified at the thought of burning the inmates alive.
“They burn too. We cannot risk who’s infected and who’s not!” Major Kidd’s face displayed no emotion, even though inside his decision was tearing him up. He could not let this infection, that had only taken two days to savage the island, spread to the mainland.
“But the Superintendent…” Bosco interjected, not terribly thrilled about being assigned to start burning inmates alive.
“He’s dead, men.” The Major said, solemnly. “Those bloody things got him and all the guards in that section. Tore them to pieces.” The men shook their heads in anger, some glanced down at the ground in fear. “Newman, you secure the ferry and the dock. Don’t let any of those demons block our way off this island. I don’t feel much like swimmin’ back home. Boyle, you go with him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“God help us men.” Major Kidd spat on the ground and remembered another short and sweet speech he’d given to his soldiers long ago in Afghanistan. Only this time it wasn’t the angry living, it was the hungry dead that were trying to tear them apart. “We’re going to need it.”
BALLS THRU YOUR ARSE
Present Day - Cockatoo Island pier
“So, our mobile phones won’t work?” Ben said, staring down at the I-Phone in his hand.
“That’s what the security guard told Ryan at the boarding gate.” Joshua shook his head as he carried their weekend kit and ice chest. “Cell towers are down, least that’s what the word is from the renta cops.”
“So, what we gonna do for fun, Joshy.” Samantha frowned and popped a gum bubble at the same time.
“We’ll think of something luv.” Joshua said, giving her a lewd smile.
“Crowded as the line outside yer mum’s bedroom.” Ryan said, watching the crowds of festival goers disembark the two ferries. Their group had been the first ones off the boat. “Eh, Ben?”
“Knock it off, Ry.” Emma said as she sidled up next to him.
“Yeah,” Joshua gave Ryan a little nudge, “Besides Ben’s mum only uses a fast pass. Ain’t no lines outside her door, mate.”
“Ha.” Ben let out a loud, fake guffaw. “Funny. You two should get a show on the ‘go fuck yourself’ channel.”
“Come on boys.” Zoe said, pushing past the group and heading off the pier towards the camping area. “Quit screwing round.”
“Sucks about the mobiles though.” Ryan said, falling in behind Zoe and Anastasia.
“You can still take pictures though.” Anastasia smiles.
“So basically, I have a camera?” Ryan frowned.
“Yes luv.” Emma quickly reached into the pocket of his trunks, pulled out his mobile and snapped a photo of him. “Ah, perfect,” she said showing him the picture.
“This place is great! They have jet ski rentals and kayaks.” Ben glanced around as the group trudged across the white sand toward their designated camping area. Ben struggled with balancing his rucksack and tent but tried not to show it. Zoe, seeing his struggle, gave him a playful little shove that sent Ben cartwheeling into the sand. The rolled-up scout tent flew out of his grip and smashed into the legs of a couple carrying a big ice chest. Both of them tripped over the tent and went face down into the soft sand. The throng of festival goers chuckled as they passed their downed fellow partiers.
“Da fuck, mate!?” The man, who must’ve been at least six-five, or at least to Ben he appeared a giant, spat out some sand and rose to his feet. The shirtless side of beef had a gruesome smiling skull tattooed across his massive chest. The man’s girlfriend still lay in a pile of her own kit and Ben’s tent.
“What the bloody ‘ell!?” Veins were popping out of the man’s over-tanned neck and thigh-sized biceps. Sand ran downwards from the man’s large, clenched fist. Ben had slowly recovered to his knees but was startled into inaction by the angry giant’s outburst.
“Fuck mate! Cock got your tongue?!” The man started to stomp across the thick sand toward the speechless Ben. A small crowd of festival goers had now formed to watch the big man kick the college student’s arse. Ben looked around for any sign of a security guard. To his dismay there was none. Ryan and the others also stood by silently watching the unfolding drama. Zoe took a deep breath knowing it was her fault and she had to do something about it before Ben got his head pounded into the sand. Ana also knew she couldn’t stand by and let her friend get pummelled by the steroid monster. As both women simultaneously stepped forward Joshua ran past them, quickly stopping in front of the angry muscle man.
“Hey mate!” Joshua was big and fit, but still a lot smaller than the angry, ice chest carrying monster that was about to smash his friend feet first into the sand. “You might wanna chill on all that bad karma! You could blow a friggin’ nut sack or something.”
“What? What?” The man’s brow furrowed as he turned to the advancing Maori. “Fuck you say, mate?” The man reached down, picked up Ben’s tent in one hand and effortlessly snapped it in two. He let it drop to the ground and gave them a sadistic grin. “You still have somethin’ to say mate?”
Ben’s group knew they were all in trouble. Skull chest looked like he could wrap them all up into a seven-person pretzel without busting a sweat. Joshua, not an avid fan of violence, swallowed nervously as he bravely stepped in front of the downed Ben, wholly expecting to be broken in half by the angry, weightlifting animal.
“Cool it mate! It was just an accident!” Zoe shouted over Joshua’s shoulder. “It was my fault so you wanna hurt someone, have a go at me!”
The steroid giant looked confused now. His bloodlust for Ben was starting to waver.
“Cosmo!” The man’s girlfriend shouted from behind. She’d untangled herself from the mess of gear and Ben's broken scout tent and slowly made her way behind the giants back. Ben noticed she was wearing a very revealing two piece. The red-haired woman was lean, muscular and beautiful. Both were obviously body builders. “Cosmo!” She placed her hand on his bulging left bicep. “Leave the kids alone. It was just an accident. Right?” She gave Ben a knowing look.
“Yeah, yeah!” Ben's head bobbed eagerly up and down. “I am so sorry.”
“See.” She gently squeezed his arm.
“Accident.” The man pursed his lips. “Bloody better watch where you’re going!” He jabbed a meaty finger in Ben’s direction. “Next time Betty or one of your girlfriends might not be here to save you and you’ll be pulling your balls out your arse!”
“Balls out your ass?” Ryan whispered. Emma slapped him playfully on the back, not wanting him to draw anymore of the monster’s ire.
“Come on, Betty.” He turned and scooped up their gear. As they walked away the redhead glanced over her shoulder and gave Ben a quick wink. That look right there would give Ben many sleepless nights of lustful fantasies.
“Think she fancies you, mate.” Joshua said offering him a hand up.
“Good thing she didn’t see you pissed yourself.” Ryan chuckled as Ben stood up.
“I didn’t piss myself.” He checked himself to make sure. “Came real close t
hough.” Ben looked over at Zoe. “What was that?”
“Sorry Ben.” She said sincerely avoiding Ana’s accusatory glare. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t.”
“No worries.” Ben said, quietly picking his broken tent out of the sand. The nosey crowd had now dispersed and mixed into the rest of the hundreds of festival goers. The group started to follow the others through the old brick entrance way that had Cockatoo Island in bold letters across it.
“He was cute.” Samantha said wrapping her arm around Joshua and snapping some gum. “And big.”
“He was huge.” The Maori agreed. “But I could have taken him. And what do you mean he was cute?”
“Hey now! Hold up!” A tinny voice burst from a speaker behind the group. All seven of the friends turned to see a small Can Am Maverick all-terrain vehicle cutting across the sand in their direction. The red ATV quickly pulled up next to them and two men dressed in green shorts and white polos climbed out. Both were wearing the uniforms of the island’s security guards.
“Perfect timing.” Ryan grumbled.
“Here now.” The bald head of security, Arton Wells, stepped over to address the group. “What is going on?”
“A festival, officer.” Ryan grinned. “What’s going on with you?”
“Cut it mate!” The skinny guard with the name tag, Ego, jabbed a finger in his direction.
“Easy, Ego.” Wells waved a hand. “We got a report of a fight over here. Witnesses described your bunch.”
“Us?” Anastasia looked over at her friends.
“Did anyone mention the roided out King Kong?” Zoe chimed in.
“Listen, listen.” Wells raised his hands. “I can tell you’re not troublemakers, you look like a good group of kids so I’ll let you off with a warning. No horse playing, grab asking or whatever the fuck they call it. Okay?” He glanced around the group and made eye contact with each and every one. “Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure mate.”
“Ok.”
Nods.
“Yes sir.”
Nod.
“Yup.”
“Good.” Wells smiled. “No more antics then, I get another report on you folks, I’d hate to have to throw all y’all off the island.” He turned and climbed back into the Can Am followed by the other security guard. “Enjoy the rest of the festival and stay safe.”
“You too, Officer.” Ryan said with a shit eating grin. Once the ATV was gone, he turned to the others. “What a total dickhead. He didn’t even ask about the roid king!”
“Us?” Anastasia reiterated what she said earlier. “Poor Ben was almost the victim.”
“Poor me.” Ben smiled.
“Bloody renta cops.” Ryan shook his head. “Can this trip get any worse?”
“Don’t ask.” Emma told him. “It’s bad luck.”
“No such thing luv.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Come on now, let’s get to that bloody campsite before we get a ticket for breathin’. Freakin’ renta cops!”
VOMIT CONGA LINE
Bambi and Carl’s restaurant
Cockatoo Island
“I thought I was goin’ to have to marry that TSA agent.” LaShell Washington said, shoving a forkful of salad into her shapely, beautiful mouth. DonDarrion and Rosie had joined her for dinner in the small oceanside restaurant. “He had his hands all up in my koolaid. He had nice hands though.”
“TSA got small dicks.” DonDarrion poured himself a glass of champagne from the bottle on the table. It was good to be a VIP.
“Sometimes all you need is a small dick, it’s mostly time that matters.” DonDarrion looked down at his food not wanting to meet LaShell’s eyes after that. “What do you think Rosie?” She asked the dark-haired woman that quietly sat next to her enjoying a filet mignon.
“About what?” She replied cutting into the tender meat.
“About TSA having small dicks, girl.”
Rosie suddenly let out a loud, unladylike burp quickly covering her mouth with a cloth napkin. Embarrassed, she glanced around the restaurant expecting horrified stares. The other diners took no notice. Relieved, Rosie replaced the napkin on the table. The filet mignon in front of her suddenly seemed unappealing and she quickly pushed it away. She’d felt sick ever since she had sliced her hand on the bones in the tunnel. The wound that she’d covered with a bandage now seemed to be infected. After dinner Rosie would definitely be seeing the medic.
“Damn, Rosie.” DonDarrion smiled. “That must be some hella good meat. You’re staring at it like you’ve never seen filet mignon before.”
“Sorry,” she smiled weakly. “What?”
“LaShell wanted to know if you think TSA got small dicks.” DonDarrion waved his champagne flute at her. “What you think girl, TSA got small dicks?”
“Well, I don’t know. What do you consider small?”
“Girl, you don’t wanna know what I consider small!” LaShell giggles.
“Besides,” Rosie smiled, trying to suppress her upcoming feeling of nausea. “You can have the biggest cock in the world, but if it doesn’t last what good is it?”
“Amen.” LaShell rapped her champagne flute against Rosie’s. The former supermodel had already had six too many drinks. Under the table she’d kicked off her right heel and was now kneading DonDarrion’s, highly receptive, groin like a lump of bread dough. The money launderer just grinned, trying to not give anything away as LaShell continued to massage his crotch with her long, thin toes. DonDarrion couldn’t wait to get her back to his cottage.
Outside the restaurant one of the 80’s bands were doing a sound rehearsal. Rosie heard the distant familiar music, something she had heard a million times on the radio, but couldn’t remember its name and who did it. Starting to feel worse, Rosie looked up to see a waiter staring down at her. She figured the massive collagen and Botox shots she’d had before leaving for this trip were doing a number on her stomach. Rosie was partially correct. Unbeknownst to her, all those chemicals swirling around in her body were now interacting with the infection she’d received from getting cut by Sarah’s virus filled bones. Instead of being quickly turned into a flesh eating undead, the Botox and collagen had morphed the virus into something else. Rosie was now a carrier of a mutated strain of the unknown zombie disease that had once ran rampant on the island in the 1800’s.
“Everything okay here, ma’am?” The young brown-haired man asked. Rosie frowned uncomprehending. A dull buzzing immediately filled her ears like a bad case of tinnitus. “Ma’am?”
“I…” Suddenly Rosie let out a loud, unearthly belch and then began to throw up what appeared to be at least a half-gallon of black and red bile. The vomit, unfortunately, splashed all over the poor, dumbstruck waiter. LaShell, DonDarrion and a few of the other diners were also caught in the trajectory of Rosie’s nasty body fluids. The foul smell was like nothing the money launderer had ever encountered before and he’d been around his fair share of dead bodies.
“Damn bitch!” DonDarrion jumped backwards as the thick, black bile splashed the table and his face. Other diners began to retch and throw up in response.
A conga line of dry heaves and vomiting made its way through the crowded restaurant. Many of the patrons ran out of the building not wanting to get sick themselves. Seconds that felt like hours passed. Rosie had finally stopped vomiting as others in the restaurant continued to throw up. Covered in her own bile and fluids, she glanced up at the young waiter who had been almost equally sprayed with her waste.
“I am so sorry,” she cried, trying to find a clean napkin. The waiter just stared at her in shock. The table, floors, walls and several other customers were covered in the thick black, red and green bile the small woman had spontaneously excreted. The stench in the restaurant was overpowering and nauseating.
“Rosie!” LaShell had somehow avoided being covered in the mess, though a small amount had gotten on her cheeks and lips. Genuinely concerned, she dabbed her napkin
on Rosie’s face. “Are you okay, girl?”
“No...” She weakly shook her head. “No, I’m not!”
“Let me get you to the infirmary tent!” LaShell said, looking for DonDarrion for help. The gang money washer was long gone, having fled the restaurant before Rosie had finished vomiting. “You little bitch, DonDarrion!” LaShell shook her head angrily. Disappointed that the big man had been scared off by Rosie’s sudden puke sprinkler imitation.
“Just help me to... to... my room, please,” Rosie said trembling. The waiter still hadn’t moved, black vomit dripping off his lips and both his cheeks. Feeling horrible she reached into her purse and withdrew a Visa card. Rosie tossed it on the bile splattered table. “Tip yourself a hundred. I am so... so very sorry.”
Zombie Island Page 10
