Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  LaShell quickly helped Rosie to her feet and both women stumbled out the front door of the restaurant and out onto the front deck. Once the salty ocean breeze hit her, Rosie felt sick again. Breaking free from LaShell, the brunette half fell, half ran over to the deck railing. Bile coming up again she leaned over and vomited over the side. The black and red body fluid splashed all over a group of festival goers. LaShell was surprised the small woman had anything left inside her.

  “Son of a bitch!” The giant beach thug, Cosmo, cursed as he wiped and flung the bile off his face. “Bloody ‘ell!”

  “Damn it!” Zoe spat out some of Rosie’s vomit that had splashed her in the face.

  “Sorry.” Rosie weakly apologized as she stared down at the crowd she’d splattered with her fluids.

  “Fuck off!” The angry, tattooed Cosmo said, giving her the finger as his girlfriend tried to clean the vomit off him. “Betty, I’m gonna hurt someone!”

  “Relax honey.” The skimpily clad female body builder said, trying to calm him down. “Let’s get you to a shower babe.”

  As Rosie was escorted back to her cabin by LaShell, Zoe was still using a towel to clean off the foul-smelling mess. Ana had pulled some baby wipes from her kit and was gently dabbing her girlfriends face with one.

  “You okay, Zoe?” Ana asked.

  “I’m fine.” She said, highly annoyed.

  “What was that about?” Ben asked, glancing from the restaurant deck over to Zoe.

  “Well, I guess we’re not eating there.” Joshua chuckled, as he watched a crowd of vomit splashed diners exit the restaurant.

  “No shit.” Ryan put his arm around Emma’s bare shoulders. “You good Zoe?”

  “Does she look good?” Emma frowned. “Somebody just tossed their lunch all over her face!”

  “Yeah, that is a bad spell of luck.” Ryan said nonchalantly.

  “I’ll take your stuff,” Ben said, as he clumsily added to his already overburdened load.

  “Thanks Ben,” Zoe said, still cleaning off the bile from her face, neck and tank top.

  “That is so gross,” Samantha said, popping another gum bubble. Joshua just shook his head, still wondering if the sex was still even worth it.

  “Come on.” The big Maori motioned toward the sign that directed them to their camping area. “Let’s get to our campsite and get Zoe cleaned up. Maybe we can eat something then, if anyone still feels up to it.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Samantha said, still smacking her gum, “that was pretty gross.” She gave Zoe a judgemental look up and down as if it was her fault she’d gotten vomit all over herself. The other girl just closed her eyes at that and let out a disgusted breath.

  “Come on,” Joshua said, slightly annoyed at Samantha.

  “Did you see that asshole Cosmo get it right in his pie hole?” Ben snickered, using his palm to imitate the vomit striking the thug dead centre in the face. “Splat! I hope he swallowed a big fucking chunk!”

  “He’s behind you!” Ryan shouted.

  “What?” Ben spun around, panicked, almost dropping all his gear.

  “Just kidding mate. He’s gone.”

  “Quit being a dick.” Emma lightly jabbed him in the ribs.

  “That’s like askin’ him to stop breathing,” Anastasia told her.

  “Fuck me,” Ben said, obviously relieved the giant wasn’t really behind him.

  “Well. That was definitely fucking Karma. Shit splattered all over his ugly mug.” Joshua chuckled, then saw Zoe just staring at him. “Sorry Zoe. It’s just that…”

  “No worries.” Zoe waved him off as they started to walk towards the campsites. “If I wasn’t covered in vomit and shit I’d be laughing my ass off too. That fucker got what he deserved.”

  “Hey,” Samantha chimed in as if just awakened from a nap. “Is that ‘Mental as Anything’ warmin’ up?”

  “Fuck if I know, luv.” Joshua rolled his eyes and tried to focus his mind on the upcoming sexcapades.

  “Let’s get a move on!” Ryan said, following the thinning crowd. “Zoe’s really starting to reek!”

  “Fuck you Ryan,” she said, giving him the bird.

  “Oh, you wish, Zoe.”

  “No, I’ve had a tiny dick before.” Zoe chuckled as she moved ahead. “No one wishes for that mate.”

  UNDEAD

  Cockatoo Island 1863

  Prison grounds

  Major Kidd slammed open his office door and with a loud grunt stumbled over to where the big sword hung over his desk. Kidd had twisted his knee severely in a struggle to fight back the undead demons that were now infesting the island prison. The Major, despite his injury, had been able to dispatch his attackers, but now he’d lost his rifle and exhausted the ammunition in his Navy Colt. A crowd of undead prison guards had stumbled into his path as he returned to his office. He’d been able to shoot four of them before they were too close to fire on. Using his rifle as a club, he’d broke it to pieces as he dispatched the remaining three zombies. Now, unarmed, he painfully limped back to his office to retrieve the last weapon he possessed. The sword he’d been given by Admiral Holloway before he’d taken command of the Royal Rifle garrison in Afghanistan. Kidd deftly removed the sharp and shiny weapon from its display rack. Smiling, Kidd remembered the day he’d been given it and the day he’d finally put it away for good.

  The day he’d been given the sword was just hours before the fall of Kabul. Holloway had passed command of the Rifle garrison to Lieutenant Kidd after Major Ellison had been shot trying to make a run for supplies. Kidd was to hold Kabul until reinforcements arrived. That never happened. The young Lieutenant had ended up having to retreat from the overrun city. His soldiers were outnumbered and outgunned. He knew if he had surrendered his troops would be slaughtered like thousands of other British troops. Escape and retreat was their only option. In doing that, Kidd had saved two hundred of his garrison. To the young officer, that was a win. To the Empire it was a definite loss and Kidd’s career stalled there in the cold Afghan desert. The British Army had been, effectively, all but wiped out. If it hadn’t cost his father a small fortune for Kidd’s Officer Commission, he would have surrendered it right after his return to England.

  The day he’d put the sword away, for good he’d thought, was right after the Maori wars. He’d led men at the Battle of Rangiriri. The New Zealand Wars had been brutal and bloody with the overwhelmed Maori’s being some of the toughest adversaries he’d ever encountered. Fourteen hundred Empire soldiers had gone up against five hundred Maori at Rangiriri. Though the British had prevailed, the New Zealand natives had fought hard taking many casualties on both sides. Major Kidd had been shot through the shoulder trying to climb up one of the Maori defenses. That had been his last war. His assignment to Cockatoo Island was the day he’d hung that sword up on the wall.

  The Major was a firm believer in the good of the Empire, but after years of devoted service, years of losing men and dispatching enemies of the Crown, he had come to think maybe he was wrong. Maybe... well his maybes and outspokenness had got him sent to command a prison island. This was God's payback for all the evil he’d done in the name of King and country. So be it. The Major hefted the sword in his hand. The sound of rifle fire and the smell of burning wood grew closer. The commander would not go without a fight. Behind him, the door crashed open. The Major, groaning in pain, spun around on his injured knee. Three more of the undead things quickly stumbled into his office.

  “Damned Hell spawn!” He shouted, as he swung his sword at the first creature. The razor-sharp blade easily sliced through the skin and bones of the zombie’s neck quickly decapitating it. The head, jaws still working back and forth, flew across the room and crashed onto the floor. The second zombie in his office, tripped over the headless body and fell face first into Kidd’s desk. Seeing his opportunity, the Major jammed his sword into the side of its head. The creature gurgled for a few quick seconds then stopped moving. Kidd yanked the blood covered sword from the zo
mbie that he had pinned to his desk. The third creature made a grab for the Major’s left arm. Kidd was too close in to get a jab at its head. Instead, he rammed the blade into its chest. The zombie groaned and continued to grab wildly at the Majors arms. Using his weight as leverage, Kidd shoved the dead man back against a wall and swiftly pulled the blade from its breast. Stepping back on his injured leg he swung the sword, higher this time, slicing into the zombie’s neck. The demon gurgled as Kidd brought the blade down on it again. Black blood spewed from the creature’s neck stump as the head slapped the floor with a wet splat.

  “Fuck me,” Kidd muttered to himself, as he bent down to catch his breath. Even though he’d just dispatched several of the flesh-eating creatures it was still hard for him to grasp what was truly going on here. Leaning against his desk, he used his free hand to wipe the sweat from his face. Staring down at the two headless corpses he knew the whole damned island would have to be cleansed. Everything burnt to the ground. As he rested against the old wooden desk he heard a shuffling sound from behind. In pain, the Major spun around to see a giant pushing its way through the open doorway.

  “Smiley?” He frowned, momentarily uncomprehending. Then the Major realized it wasn’t the prison guard but whatever demon he’d become. Kidd noticed the bites and chunks of flesh that were missing from Smileys arms and legs. The guard was now one of the hungry undead. Growling, the zombie charged at Major Kidd.

  “No!” He raised his sword as the bigger man rushed at him. The Major tripped over one of the corpses he’d recently dispatched which sent him tumbling to the floor. The horrible stench of death filled his nostrils as he crashed into the hard concrete, the foul creature suddenly fell on top of him. The ‘Smiley’ zombie unintentionally pinned Kidd’s sword hand to the floor with his right knee. The Major could feel the bones in his wrist snap as the drooling thing ground its knee into him. Screaming, Kidd slammed his left fist into the side of Smiley’s head. The guard didn’t feel a thing and with dead, lifeless eyes he continued to try and bite Kidd’s exposed face. The pain of his damaged knee and wrist were starting to overtake his burst of adrenaline as Smiley began to overpower him. The Major continued to struggle against the ravenous demon, not wanting to become one of them. Smiley’s broken and bloody teeth inched closer and closer to his face as Major Kidd started to lose the fight. The prison commander was drained from his recent battles with the dead. With his last bit of strength, Kidd shoved the zombie onto its side and rolled away from it. The creature was faster than he thought, as it grabbed his legs and pulled him back across the concrete. Thinking of his beloved Mariel, who he’d lost to malaria many years ago, Kidd knew if he became one of these things he’d be damned to Hell and never see her again. Using the last of his strength he tried to kick Smiley off of him but to no avail.

  The blast from the pistol was almost deafening. Smiley let out a weird moan then tumbled off of the Major, collapsing heavily onto his side. Confused, Kidd angrily shoved the creature’s remains away from him and quickly sat up.

  “Major!” Finn holstered his smoking Navy Colt. “Thought you were a goner.”

  “So did I.” Kidd glanced back and forth between Finn and the body slumped next to him.

  “Come on sir.” Finn extended a hand to the officer. “Island’s burnin’ and we have a boat waitin’!”

  “Thanks Finn,” Major Kidd said, as he grabbed the guard’s hand with his left. Groaning in pain he slowly got to his feet. Maybe someday he’d be joining Mariel, just not today.

  SEEN ONE YA SEEN ‘EM ALL

  Present Day - Cockatoo Island

  Arton Wells glanced out of the open windows of the security tower that was posted up in the centre of the island. From his point of view, fifty feet up in the air, the security chief could see most of the Cockatoo Island venue. The tower had been constructed shortly before the Festival, someone’s idea of a cheap and efficient security measure. They hadn’t been able to install or, most importantly, afford CCTV yet so the four tower security staff used high powered binoculars to scan for any potential problems. Wells had ten more guards armed with tasers and pepper gas on the ground to respond to any issues. And another six were off duty waiting to come on.

  “Anything?” Wells asked the attractive dark-haired female that sat watching the main stage. He rested a hand on her shoulder. Annoyed at the unwanted intrusion, Stella quickly shrugged off the security chief’s hand. Unfazed, Wells took a step back and crossed his arms. He didn’t need another sexual harassment suit, the last one had ended his career with the Melbourne police force.

  “Just some small stuff. Bunch of old guys prancing around on the stage,” Stella said, as she let the lanyard affixed binoculars drop to her ample chest. “Nothing to worry about, Chief.” Stella looked everywhere but at the security boss.

  “Good, good.” Wells avoided staring at the woman’s breast as he tapped another of his staff on the shoulder trying to make it look not so awkward. The man-bun security guard nearly jumped at that. “You okay, Mark?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” man-bun nodded. “Just feeling a little shitty,” he coughed, “I’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t be getting us all sick up here,” Stella told him.

  “I won’t.” Mark wiped his mouth. “I’m good. I just wish we had a can up here so we don’t ‘ave to climb up and down the ladder when we gotta piss.”

  “The promoters are two fuckin’ cheap to spring for better digs. Hell, they can’t even afford to fix the cell towers. My damn mobile is now good for nothin’ but takin’ pictures,” Ray, another security guard chimed in.

  “Right, I can bring you all a bucket.” Arton nodded, having working mobile phones would have been a big help to the tiny security force. Arton tapped Mark on the shoulder again. “Keep frosty everyone. Heads on a swivel. We don’t need any problems. And keep your bloody binos off the women’s showers.” He looked over at Ray and Monk, who were obviously focused on the open women’s showers area.

  “Ah boss, it gets bleeding boring up here,” Monk groaned, as he put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes. “Gives me something to look forward to.”

  “I don’t need you all jerking off up here while shit’s goin’ on.” He glanced over at the female security officer. “Sorry Stella.”

  “No worries, boss.” Stella smiled. “I jerked one off before I came to work.”

  “Funny, now keep your eyes off the showers and let’s make sure these good folks are safe.” He grabbed up his walkie talkie and headed for the stairs. “Call me if you have any problems.”

  “Sure, Chief.” Stella’s voice was thick with sarcasm. She despised their boss. He was always checking her out, making her feel uncomfortable. Stella was glad he was heading out to patrol the island. Wells made her skin crawl.

  “Probably headed to the showers himself.” Mark chuckled as soon as Wells had exited the tower, climbing the fifty feet down to the ground. He suddenly broke into another small fit of coughing.

  “You okay, Mark?” Stella asked.

  “Yeah, just got something stuck in my throat.”

  “That’s what she said.” Monk chimed in from where he sat, still watching the woman’s shower area. “Nope. The Chief ain’t headed for the showers.”

  “Smells like you could use a shower yeself, Mark,” Stella smirked.

  “Some tourist threw up on me on my way in to work. Used some baby wipes from the first aid tent to clean up but I don’t think it worked so well.”

  “Yeah, ya ain’t wrong.” Stella grinned as she picked up her radio and listened to the traffic from the other security officers.

  “Ain’t wrong about what?”

  “That it didn’t work well, you reek. Baby wipes just smear that shit around.” Stella chuckled as she shook her head. “Why don’t you hit the showers then come back up? Do us all a favor.”

  “Stella,” Mark coughed into his hand then looked up. “You just wanna see me naked.”

  “Eh,” Stella shrugged, picking up he
r binoculars. “Seen one ya seen ‘em all.”

  “Hey!” Monk pointed up into the sky in front of him. “Ain’t that a helicopter? Always wanted to fly in one of them.”

  “Yeah.” Mark said looking through his binoculars at the approaching airship. The sound of the helicopter engine and rotor blades grew louder as it flew closer. “Should we call the boss?”

  “Naw. It’s the chopper from News Eight,” Stella told the others. “Boss said they have a small landing area on the far side of the island. I guess they’ll be doing flyovers and some other news shit for the festival.”

  “Cool,” Monk said, waving his left hand at the approaching aircraft.

  “Knock it off ya nerd!” Ray shouted at him from his post behind the excited eighteen-year-old. “You’ll make us all look like idiots!”

  “Too late for that,” Stella said, resuming her scan of the festival. “Way, way too late for that.”