Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  “You just figure that out?” Zoe chuckled. “Took you way too long, Emma.”

  “Poor girl.” Anastasia shook her head in mock disgust.

  “Ladies,” Emma smirked, “Once you make him shower he ain’t so bad smellin’, plus he’s got a tiny cock so it don’t hurt so bad.”

  “Ha ha!” Ryan shook his head.

  “Sounds like its time for a toast.” Joshua said moving Samantha around on his lap so he could see the others.

  “A toast?” Ben asked. “To what?”

  “To Ryan’s nastiness and small cock. May it not be contagious?”

  “Here! Here!” The others joined in tapping their bottles together and laughing. “To Ryan’s small cock!”

  “Cheers!” Ryan raised his bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “You all ready for tomorrow?” Ben asked, as he put the cold beer bottle to his lips.

  “To see some geezers flopping around the stage and trying to keep their hair pieces together?” Samantha snorted. “No.”

  “Hey,” Joshua gave her a quick peck on her bright red lips. “I like some of that music. You know it reminds me of my Grandad.”

  “I know, Luv.” She patted him on his bare shoulder. “If you weren’t so damn gorgeous I’d hold it against ya.”

  “Wow.” Joshua chuckled. “I’ll take that.”

  “That’s not all you’ll take, mate.” Ryan smirked.

  “What?”

  “I said that’s not all you’ll take.”

  “What do you mean, mate?” Joshua moved Samantha around in his lap and leaned forward closer toward Ryan. The big Maori youth had a glint of menace in his eyes. The other teen, on reflex, leaned backwards in his lawn chair away from Joshua.

  “Fuck, I was just joking, Joshua.” He held out an open hand. The others had grown quite uneasy watching the heated exchange between the two. There was a tense silence for a few seconds until Joshua started laughing. Ryan just frowned, not moving from where he’d pressed himself against the back of his chair.

  “Just fucking with ya, mate!” Joshua slapped his knee. “Damn, you are easy, mate. Not as easy as Ben, but easy.”

  “Fuck you, Josh!” Ryan let out a sigh of relief and joined the others in laughing. “Thought I might have to kick your ass.”

  “Thought.” Joshua grabbed Samantha and lifted her in a straddle position. “You know that’s all it would be. A thought.”

  “Love you too, Joshua.” Ryan took a swallow of his beer as he wrapped his free arm around Emma’s shoulder. The Maori just gave him a quick wave as he began kissing Samantha’s neck.

  “Okay.” Ben cleared his throat, uncomfortable at all the PDA’s. He reached down to the pack between his feet and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. “Brought us a treat.”

  “Mallows?” Anastasia gently pulled herself from Zoe’s embrace. “You’re kidding?”

  “No,” Ben dropped the bag in his lap and removed seven thin sticks. “Not a campfire without ‘em.”

  “Yum.” Zoe grabbed a couple of sticks from Ben and handed one to Anastasia. “Love them.”

  “Good call, Bennie.” Anastasia said, giving him that glowing smile that always melted him.

  “Good thing Beno here was a scout.” Ryan chuckled, as he took a stick for Emma and himself.

  “Always prepared.”

  “And we’re reapin’ the rewards.” Anastasia said, as Ben handed her a couple of marshmallows.

  “Hey, Joshua.” Ben tapped him on the shoulder with the thin roasting sticks. The young man was almost too busy making out with Samantha to notice. “Joshua!”

  “Yeah, mate?” He stopped and glanced over at Ben, mildly annoyed.

  “Mallows?” Ben asked holding the sticks and bag of marshmallows toward him. It took Joshua a couple seconds to focus on what Ben was saying. When he realised it he almost dropped Samantha trying to grab the snacks and sticks.

  “Mallows! Fuck yeah, mate!”

  “Hey!” Samantha frowned as she bounced around in his lap as Joshua juggled her and the food. Ben watched salaciously as Samantha jiggled about in Joshua’s lap. “Wish ya would get as excited for me as ya do these Mallows.”

  “Sorry, Luv.” Joshua gave her an apologetic grin. “But it’s Mallows. I love them things!”

  “We’ll see if a Mallow does the things I do for you.” Samantha said, a little hurt as she popped a gum bubble.

  “Luv.” Joshua shook his head. “You know I love ya.” He said trying not to lie. There were definitely things he did love about her. “Try one. You’ll dig it.”

  “Joshua.”

  “Just try one.” He lifted her off his lap and stood up, gently setting her down in the lawn chair. Samantha just sat there pouting as he walked over to the fire pit and began quickly cooking the marshmallows on the sticks. The others joined in laughing and joking as some of the stick treats fell into the fire. Samantha crossed her arms as she watched the group having a good time. Rolling her eyes, she let out a heavy breath. Samantha didn’t know what Joshua saw in this group of losers. He was so much better than all of them.

  REMAINS

  Cockatoo Island

  Tom swept the dark tunnel with the flashlight, desperately looking for the pile of bones that the American woman had stumbled upon days earlier. Tom had tried to get back to the site sooner but it seemed like Wells always had a security guard nearby. The old island caretaker had spent years searching the creepy tunnels for the rumoured remains of, not a prison nurse but of, a female prisoner. The recent restoration construction of the underground area must have accidentally unearthed the old bones.

  “Ah, Sarah.” Tom exhaled excitedly as the beam of his light focused on the pile of green tinged bones that lay in a small hole in the ground. It had taken him quite a while to find his way back to this spot, in the darkness all the tunnels looked the same. The old man placed the end of the flashlight in his mouth as he quickly reached into his pants pocket and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of it. Slipping them on, he removed the flashlight from his mouth.

  “I knew you were here.” Tom said quietly, to the bones and himself. The caretaker’s great, great, great grandfather had been a guard on the island when it was a prison. In fact, he had been the prison commander. Stories of the hungry undead walking the island had been passed from generation to generation. Most of Tom’s relatives considered it a tale to scare the children and took it with a grain of salt. He didn’t though, he’d always believed it was true and Tom had spent the greater part of his life looking for some kind of proof. Smiling broadly, here it finally was.

  When Tom Kidd was a preteen his grandfather brought an old chest down from the attic. He had told Tom it once belonged to his grandfather, Major Logan Kidd. Inside the aged wooden chest were several old darregotype and black and white photographs. Tom was amazed at the pictures of ramrod straight soldiers and the natives from far off lands. All of this fuelled his already over-active imagination. Inside the musty smelling chest was also a blood-stained sword in a well-worn scabbard. Tom’s grandfather told him the sword belonged to his own grandfather, Major Kidd. As the young Tom held the heavy sword in his small hands, his grandfather told him the tale of the Major’s heroic fight against the zombies that had infested the island. Tom not only wanted to believe his grandfather's story, he needed to believe it. His grandfather also told him about the inmate, Sarah, who had disappeared down into the dark prison underbelly. Now, here she was or at least her remains were.

  The caretaker slid the empty backpack he wore off and dropped it by his booted feet. Kneeling down near the remains he illuminated them with the bright beam from his flashlight. All those many, many years his family thought that the zombie island stories were just the scary ramblings of an old man who had seen too much as a soldier and prison guard. Now there was some validation to his family’s own history.

  With a trembling right hand, he reached down and touched the grinning skull that stared up at him. Sarah, that was her name, the o
ne that had started it all. Carefully removing the skull, Tom gently placed it inside a pocket of the backpack. Securely zipping the pocket back up, he returned his attention to the rest of bones. As he started to reach for the other remains there was a shuffling sound from somewhere behind him in the tunnel. Sweeping the area around him he expected to see one of the low rent festival security guards bumbling about. Instead he saw the dark shape of a female drunkenly moving his way.

  “For fucks sake,” he mumbled under his breath. All he needed right now was some pissed bird getting in the way of his find. Getting to his feet the caretaker would have to steer her back towards the camp grounds.

  “Here, here luv, can I help you?” Tom stepped away from the pile of remains and walked toward the lost camper. “You know you can’t be down here? It’s very dangerous. Let me help you back to the campsite.”

  The woman seemed to ignore the caretakers warning and continued her odd gait in his direction. Her breathing seemed much laboured. Concerned, Tom focused his light beam on her face. Suddenly, Tom realised it wasn’t the girls breathing he was hearing, it was some strange, feral hunger.

  “Fuck!” He shouted, startled. The young campers face was bloody and ripped. One of her eyes dangled from its eye socket. The woman’s chest was a mess of torn flesh and exposed organs and ribs. Dark splotches of dried blood covered her clothing and skin. The caretaker couldn’t really get a grasp of what he was actually staring at.

  “Fuck!” Tom stumbled backwards as the obviously undead camper shuffled hungrily toward him. What he thought had been her laboured breathing was the woman’s low, unearthly moaning. This was just more proof the family legends were more than that. Moving backwards away from what he could now only rationalise in his spinning mind was a real zombie, Tom accidentally stepped into the small pit that contained the bones. Sarah’s femur bone easily snapped as he stepped on it. Breaking in half, the jagged edge poked through Tom’s khaki pant leg, impaling itself in his calf. Screaming in pain, the caretaker fell backwards onto the old pile of bones. Many of them breaking, the sharp ends stabbing Tom in the back.

  “Help!” Tom shouted in horror, as he tried to scrabble off the small mound of bones that now painfully sliced through his clothes and skin. The old man’s blood was slick on his hands and arms as he tried to quickly crawl away from the advancing zombie. Tom could feel the sharp ends of the century old bones still stuck in his body. The pain was almost too much to bear. Before he could move any farther the dead woman fell heavily onto his back. Her teeth tore into the side of his neck, tearing away skin and muscle. Tom tried to scream, but only let out a loud gurgling sound. Warm blood spurted from his neck and splashed against the walls of the tunnel. Tom tried to shake the ravenous zombie off his back, but found himself too weak to do so. The undead woman dug her teeth into his shoulder pulling away more of his flesh. Life draining away, Tom slumped face first into the cool, dirt floor. As the famished ghoul continued to feast upon his warm skin, the caretaker’s last thoughts were of holding the huge sword in his young hands. How he now wished it all had just been a made-up story…

  CURE ALL

  Cockatoo Island

  Ryan glanced over at Emma who appeared to be quietly sleeping soundly wrapped up in her sleeping bag. She usually was a snorer. That’s what really drove him crazy, that and her demanding she come before him during sex. Emma tried to make sure she got hers. She always told Ryan, ‘what’s the point of sex if only one of us gets off?’ He had to work hard at that, most times he succeeded but he was only human. Shirtless, he slipped on his board shorts. Ryan had to take a massive piss. Gently slapping her unmoving behind, he crawled over to the front of the tent and unzipped the opening. Climbing out, he stood up and stretched. Scratching his hairless chest, he glanced around their small campsite. Ryan could hear some light snoring coming from Joshua’s tent. Damn, that chick Samantha was hot but what a fuckin’ air head. In some ways he was jealous of Joshua, always getting the babes, but on the other hand he thought he might be in love with Emma. For real. Rubbing his right eye, he looked back at his tent. He felt bad having a shag with Em tonight. She was feeling pretty shitty and he was feeling pretty horny. He always joked with her that his dick was a cure all and that she’d feel better once they fucked. Emma had eventually relented, like she always did, with a tired smile. It wasn’t a cure all and Emma didn’t get hers. In fact, she even felt worse afterwards.

  “Crap,” Ryan said to himself. He felt really bad about that. First time. Maybe he really was falling in love with her. Scanning the rest of the campsite Ryan could see Zoe and Anastasia’s tent was silent. Both girls fast asleep. He never could figure that one out. Anastasia didn’t seem like the carpet munching type. Oh well, he ran a hand through his mussed hair, to each their own. Ryan chuckled as he saw Ben laying fast asleep face down in his one-man tent. Bare feet sticking out the end of the tiny tent. Poor wanker. Fruitlessly chasing a girl who liked other girls. But that was Ben. Always clueless and lost. Yawning he walked a few feet to where there was a big garbage barrel. Pulling his shorts down he gratefully emptied his bladder behind it. There was no fucking way he was going to walk all the way to the toilets just for an after-sex piss. Anyone complained about the smell he’d swear it wasn’t him.

  The never-ending urine stream made a tinny sound against the garbage barrel. The sound was so loud he figured it would wake the others. When it didn’t Ryan figured everyone was well knackered, having drank way too much. Well, that should make a fun day of hangovers and shitty music.

  Giving himself a good shake, he pulled his shorts back up and quickly walked the few feet over to his tent. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to get up and piss again. After sex whizzes were usually challenging, two stream affairs. Unzipping the front flap of their tent, he started to climb back in. Maybe in the morning Ryan would apologise to Em. Suddenly, two familiar cold hands grabbed him by the face and jerked him violently down inside the tent. Before he could react or let out a scream, one of Emma’s dead hands clumsily reached into his open mouth and grabbed his tongue. Ryan tried to protest but his words just came out as meaningless blather. Lying on his back he used both his hands to try and grab at Emma’s. Ryan couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening, this all happened too fast to comprehend. Emma’s eyes were dark, milky and unfocused, not those of the girl he’d just been inside. Ryan tried to pull her hand from his face as Emma forcefully ripped his tongue out of his mouth. Ryan quickly started to choke in his own blood as he tried in vain to scream. Ryan’s screams turned to mumbles as he thrashed about in ungodly pain. Blood painted the inside of the tent as Ryan rolled about in agony, throwing the Emma thing off of him. His hungry, undead lover passionately chewed on his tongue as he fought hard to not pass out from the sudden blood loss and shock. Ryan realised that he still had more urine than he thought in his bladder and it all spilled down his board shorts. Rolling onto his stomach, he slowly crawled toward the zippered tent flap. His chin and chest were completely soaked in his blood. With a shaky hand, Ryan reached up for the zipper tab. As he did so, Emma grabbed his arm and hungrily tore the meaty flesh from his forearm.

  “Noooo…” The young man mumbled as he fell onto his back. The insatiable Emma swiftly straddled him on their, now bloody mess of, sleeping bags. Ryan could see the dark red trickling from her overworked jaws down to her pert exposed breasts. Not too long ago this same naked body had given him pleasure, now it was just unimaginable pain. Running his hands across her nude body, Ryan left bloody smears. It would have almost been beautiful if it wasn’t horrifying. With the last of his strength he tried to shove Emma off of him but found himself unable. The naked, blood splattered Emma seemed to possess more strength dead than alive. Moaning in excruciating pain, Ryan again tried to push her off him. Emma bent down, as if to kiss him, and ripped his nose from his face. This time Ryan couldn’t scream, he tried to but nothing came out. As he watched his lover greedily chewing on his flesh, he finally slipped into peaceful darknes
s.

  COYOTE UGLY

  Cockatoo Island

  DonDarrion woke with a dreadful pain in his arm. The usual deep, joyous slumber after sex was interrupted by a sharp, intense ache in his left arm. Whatever was causing his distress made him sit straight up and yell out in sheer agony. Quickly opening his eyes, he saw to his horror that the naked LaShell was laying on her stomach chewing on his left forearm. Munching on it like it was a drumstick from Colonel Sanders. In his nightmare scrambled mind, it reminded him of that old saying ‘Coyote Ugly’, as in that chick was so nasty I had to chew my arm off so I could get away without waking her.

  “Bitch!” DonDarrion jerked his arm out from LaShell’s mouth. Her teeth gnashing at the escaping flesh. The big, naked man rolled of the bed and tripped himself up in the blankets. Left arm still in excruciating pain, he fumbled around the faux wooden floor trying to get away from the feral woman. LaShell growled hungrily and leapt off the bed, crashing into DonDarrion’s blanket covered legs. Suddenly, he could feel the painful bites as the crazed woman found his exposed calves and immediately tore into them. DonDarrion quickly kicked her loose and scrambled for the gun hidden in his nightstand.