Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  “LaShell! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shouted, as he yanked the drawer open, spilling out some of the loose contents. He’d ran into his share of crazy women, even been stabbed by one, but he’d never, ever experienced anything like this. As he fumbled around inside the drawer for the Glock he could hear her heavy breathing and wild growling behind him.

  “Fuck!” Shaking in shock and fear, he finally found the pistol and spun around just in time to see LaShell’s blood covered, snapping teeth coming right at him. He noticed her beautiful brown eyes were now just black lifeless holes. Her lovely, shapely body was now just hard and grey. Big drops of drool dripped between her flesh flecked teeth. LaShell let out an inhuman moan and reached for his throat. DonDarrion pulled the trigger on the handgun. The first shot hit her in the chest, driving her backwards. LaShell hesitated for a second then, again, charged at him. DonDarrion fired again, striking her in the shoulder, causing LaShell to drop to the side.

  “LaShell!” DonDarrion shouted, voice cracking. “Stay down! I don’t want to shoot you again!”

  Despite DonDarrion’s warnings, the LaShell thing got to its feet and again charged at the gangster. Closing his eyes and screaming, DonDarrion emptied the rest of the magazine into the attacking LaShell. Ten unaimed rounds finally put the madwoman down. Ears ringing, DonDarrion collapsed against the nightstand. Dropping the pistol to the floor he covered his face with his bloody hands and began crying.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He cried, running his blood-soaked hands back and forth over his shaved head. His mind was currently doing flip flops after being attacked by whatever LaShell had become.

  Minutes later his cabin door burst open and four security guards ran in holding pepper gas and taser guns at the ready. DonDarrion just looked up at the four, eyes filled with tears.

  “She... She tried to eat me man.” He covered his face with his hands and began sobbing. “She fucking bit me!”

  “Bloody ‘ell!” Arton Wells entered the room behind the four security guards. He quickly scanned the scene and shook his bald head, “Cuff him up and take him to the infirmary. Stella?”

  “No.” Stella was kneeling next to LaShell’s still and bloody form, checking for a pulse. Sadly, the guard shook her head. “She’s gone, boss.”

  “Crap on a cracker!” Arton growled, staring a little too long at the naked corpse. “Is that LaShell?”

  “LaShell?”

  “You know the supermodel who was producing part of the Festival?” Arton said, still eyeing the dead, naked model’s body.

  “Oh, shit,” Stella said, as she suddenly realised who it was. “Yeah, mate, it is.”

  “LaShell?” The other guards quickly moved in to have a look.

  “Piss off ya pervs!” Stella shouted. “Give her some respect!”

  “Yeah, yeah, ya wankers!” Arton shoved the guards away. “Have some respect. Stella make sure no one enters this room.”

  “Roger that.” The dark-haired security woman nodded.

  “Looks like we need to call the Harbor patrol.” One of the other security guards said, as he pointed to the discarded handgun.

  “Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell!” Arton cursed, as he watched his men stand the bloodied and battered DonDarrion up. The gangster didn’t offer up any fight, he just stood looking blankly at the floor. “Get him some damn pants! Fuckin’ bloody ‘ell!” He said, shaking his head. Just what he needed before the Festival started. A bloody fucking murder. Celebrity at that! Along with the sudden uptick of assaults, bites and scratches from apparently drugged up Festival goers, this is all he needed. “Get his ass to the infirmary. Keep him away from everyone else for now. Tight lips everyone, we don’t need that news crew to know shit yet.”

  “Roger that.” The security man that held the despondent and sobbing DonDarrion in handcuffs curtly nodded. “Come on, mate, let’s get you patched up.”

  “Smith, have the aid station send a team over fast.” Arton told the security man that was helping escort the distraught DonDarrion. “Keep it on the down low.”

  “Roger that, boss.”

  “Fuck.” Arton pulled some latex gloves from his belt pouch and, not very gracefully, jerked them on. Bending down he picked up the empty handgun. “Shit, how’d this get here?”

  “Money, boss.” Stella shrugged, wanting to cover the naked woman with a blanket but knew it would possibly ruin the crime scene. “Enough money gets you anything.”

  “Yeah.” He made sure the weapon was empty then set it back down close to as exact as he could remember. “Ain’t that right.”

  “Boss,” Stella stood up and pointed at the bullet wounds in LaShell’s body. “Notice anything weird about her wounds?”

  Arton frowned as he stood up and studied the damage that had been inflicted on the supermodel’s naked body. Trying not to stare at anywhere but the wounds, he eventually saw what Stella was talking about.

  “No blood. That’s weird.” The security chief said, as he scratched his scalp, puzzled.

  “She’s not bleedin’ at all.”

  “Damn, that is strange.” Arton glanced over at the other guard. “I see a few gunshot wounds in me time on the force and this here is definitely a first. Good catch, Stella.”

  “So, what’s it mean, boss?” She asked, kneeling down to get a better look at the wounds. “I mean, she’s not even bleeding from that headshot. There’s just some black lookin’ goo.”

  “Fuck if I know.” Arton was truly stumped. “She does look pretty pale. Maybe this guy was into some freaky shit and he shot up her body after he killed her.”

  “I don’t know.” Stella stood up. “I’m certainly no expert, but it does look like she was mobile when she was shot. This is just weird.”

  “Rich folks are weird. Look, seal the room until the harbor patrol shows up. We don’t need that camera crew from G’day Melbourne stumbling onto this.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit. Have Smith replace you when he comes back.”

  “Roger that, boss.”

  “This is all I need this fucking weekend.” He stared down at LaShell’s remains just a little too long, remembering some swimsuit calendar or ad he’d seen her in. “Hmmm.”

  “Boss?” Stella looked at him with concern.

  “Uh, just keep the room sealed like I said, Stella. No news folks either! It’s going to be a long weekend.”

  HANGOVER

  Cockatoo Island

  Ben woke to the sound of the band Crowded House singing ‘Something So Strong’ in the distance. Propping himself up on his elbows, he wiped the sleep gunk from his eyes and the slobber from his mouth. The college student definitely felt like he’d been hit by a train. Rolling over onto his back he stared up at the canvas roof of his tiny one-man tent. He’d obviously drank too much last night, the pounding in his head agreeing with him. Reaching around the floor he found his cell phone and glanced at the time. 10-00 AM. What kind of arseholes play music before noon? He covered his face with his right forearm trying to get a quick nap in. The music continued from the stage along with cheers from the crowd. That was definitely no good, Ben couldn’t go back to sleep. The terrible pounding continued in his head, along with the reverberating sounds of the music from the stage. Slowly sitting up cross legged in the stale, cramped enclosure, Ben reached over and dragged his pack closer to him. Unzipping a side pocket, he took out a warm water bottle and quickly drank half of it. Wiping his mouth, he set the bottle down and unzipped the top of his pack. Reaching inside, Ben rummaged around for a few seconds until he finally found what he needed.

  “Ah ha!” He popped the cap on the Ibuprofen bottle and dumped four of the pills into his hand. Swallowing and then chasing them down with the rest of the warm water, Ben now had some hope he just might make it through the Festival. Yawning, still feeling like someone had kicked him repeatedly in the head while he slept, Ben crawled out of the tiny scout tent. The mid-morning sun blasted him and made Ben cover his eyes as he stood up.

  “Morn
ing sunshine.” Samantha giggled, as she sat cross legged in a folding lawn chair outside their tent.

  “Mornin’ Samantha.” Ben rubbed his face with his hand. He noticed Joshua’s girlfriend was wearing another pretty skimpy, two-piece bathing suit. Ben wondered how many string bikinis the girl owned. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Trying not to be an idiot and gawk at her exposed skin, he quickly glanced over at the shirtless Maori that sat in a lawn chair next to her. “How long you been up?”

  “‘Bout a half hour, mate.” Joshua grinned, as he took a swig from the half empty beer bottle. “You look a bit like fucked ass this mornin’, mate. Here.” He reached into the cooler and handed a beer to Ben. “This will help even you out.”

  “Oh, sure. Thanks, mate.” He twisted off the top and took a quick drink. The cool liquid actually felt good going down. “That hit the spot. Cheers.”

  “Don’t ya just luv Crowded House?” Samantha shouted sarcastically, as she tapped her bare foot in the sand. She was out of rhythm to the music in the background, but the way she looked in her swimsuit no one would really even care. Now he truly understood what his friend saw in the annoying girl. Maybe it took a hangover to grasp that.

  “Uh uh.” Ben smiled, then turned back to Joshua, who was straddling the big ice chest. “Anybody else up?”

  “Zoe wasn’t feeling good so she went over to the infirmary, a few minutes ago, Anastasia went to look after her.” Joshua shrugged. “Ryan and Emma are still asleep.”

  “Yeah, I thought they’d be up by now.” Ben glanced out across the rows of tents toward the stage. He could barely make out the band from where he stood. Ben took another swig of the cool beer and looked back over at Joshua. He hoped Anastasia was okay and whatever Zoe had come down with wasn’t contagious.

  “You kidding?” Joshua chuckled. “Those two were rutting like a couple of pigs ‘n heat last night. Didn’t you hear them, mate?”

  “Naw, I was three sheets to the wind, Joshua. Thankfully I didn’t hear shit.”

  “Yeah,” Joshua shook his head as he reached into the ice chest and pulled out another cold beer. “Almost sounded like they were killing each other.” The Maori guffawed. “Didn’t know Emma was that wild.”

  “Joshy!” Samantha popped a gum bubble and waved the useless mobile phone in his direction. “When we goin’ to the stage? I wanna see the bands!”

  “Soon, luv.” He gave her his trademark killer smile, then looked back up at Ben and shrugged. He took a drink from the fresh bottle. “You headin’ to the stage?”

  “Maybe, thought I’d wait for Anastasia.” Ben caught himself. “Oh, and Zoe of course.”

  “Of course.” Joshua grinned. “Can’t forget about Zoe, can we?” He gave Ben a knowing wink.

  “You going to wake Emma and Ryan up?” Ben asked, trying to change the awkward subject.

  “No. Probably be like sticking your hand in a gators mouth, about now.” Joshua took a drink. “Feel free, mate. Don’t let me stop ya.”

  “Uh, no.” Ben held up a hand. “Don’t need the wrath of Ryan this early.”

  “Or Emma.” Joshua smirked.

  “Emma?”

  “Yeah, mate.” He gave him a conspiratorial grin. “She’s not much of a morning person.”

  “What the fuck, mate?” Ben asked in a whisper. Joshua looked over at Samantha who was busy looking through her dozens of selfies and leaned in next to his friend.

  “Summer camp two years ago, mate. Long before Ryan.”

  “No shit!” Ben almost spat out his beer. “Really?”

  “Easy, mate.” Joshua again glanced back over at Sam who was still enthralled with her own photos and was completely ignoring the two. “Keep it on the down low would ya?” He said, carefully pointing at Samantha.

  “S-sure.” Ben slumped back down in his lawn chair and took a long pull from his beer. Everyone but him was getting some with everyone else. Life just wasn’t fair.

  “It was just once, mate. Wasn’t even that good. Long, long before she ever hooked up with Ryan.”

  “Then that’s okay.” Ben’s voice thick with sarcasm.

  “Don’t get all butt hurt, Benny. Emma was never in to ya anyway.” He lightly slugged his friend on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, I know.” He took another swig from the bottle and uncomfortably glanced around him.

  “Besides ya got Anastasia, mate.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well,” Joshua chuckled. “If she ever makes up her mind and decides which way to swing. I think ol’ Ana’s got a definite sweet spot for ya.”

  “Really?” Ben furrowed his brow as he rolled the cold, sweaty, bottle around in his hands. “You think so?”

  “Mate, she’s sweet on ya, if you had a vagina she’d be totally into it. I think Zoe’s just some kinda phase Anastasia is going thru. She’ll come to her senses.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Hell, if I know, mate.” Joshua smiled and pointed at Samantha. “You think I know what goes through their minds?”

  “Josh are we going down to the stage, or what?” Samantha popped another gum bubble. “My ass is falling asleep.”

  “Just tryin’ to help Ben out, luv.”

  “Come on, Joshua, I didn’t come out here to sit on my ass and listen to your friend boo hoo about some lesbian who’s obviously not interested in him.” As Samantha ranted on, Ben’s face dropped at her mean words.

  “Hey, Sam, that’s just rude!” Joshua said, as he sat up in his chair.

  “Not trying to be rude, Ben.” She patted him condescendingly on the forearm.

  “Just trying to keep you from getting your hopes up and feelings hurt.”

  “Well, you’re doing a shitty job, Sam.” Joshua told her. “Sorry, Ben.”

  “No worries,” he said quietly, hurt in his voice. “She’s probably right.”

  “Naw, Anastasia will come around.” He gave Samantha a dirty look. “Just give it time, mate.”

  “Come on, Joshua.” Samantha popped her gum already done with her conversation about Joshua’s nerdy friend and the lesbian. “Come on!”

  “Alright, alright.” Joshua stood up and gave his friend a shrug. “You comin’ mate?”

  “In a bit. I’m gonna finish this beer first.”

  “Alright.” He glanced down at the ice chest. “Samantha hold up, luv.”

  “What, Joshua?”

  “One more beer then we’ll go.” He pulled open the ice chest, grabbed a bottle out and plopped back down in his lawn chair. “Come on, luv, just a few minutes.”

  “Joshua...” Samantha crossed her arms pouting.

  “Let me refuel, Sam, and then we’ll go. I’ll even get us up front. Promise.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay.” Samantha sat down on his lap. “One beer?”

  “Yeah.”

  A GOOD OLD-FASHIONED SEARCH PARTY

  Cockatoo Island

  Anastasia had frantically searched through the crowded infirmary tents and shower areas for Zoe without any luck. She was very worried about her girlfriend’s health. Zoe had been up all night with a fever and severe nausea. Anastasia had tried to get her to go to the Aid station, finally Zoe had had enough and decided to go and get checked out. Without telling her partner, Zoe left for the infirmary area.

  Anastasia first checked the first aid areas and found most of them crowded with festival goers suffering from the same type of fevers and nausea Zoe experienced. None of the paramedics had either seen anyone matching Zoe’s description, or were too busy to give her the time of day. To Anastasia it appeared the whole island had suddenly been swamped by some kind of terrible flu bug. Near the end of her tether, Anastasia found the last Aid station and stepped inside the busy tent. A young hippie couple almost knocked her over as they hurried out of the Aid Station.

  “Hey!” Anastasia shouted, as the two pushed past without even giving her a second glance. “Fuck off, ya two!” Ana’s
fuse was short from being worried about her friend’s wellbeing and dealing with the rude crowds of festival goers. A day ago, she would have never have been able to tell someone to fuck off. If Ben could see her now, he would have been proud of her. Anastasia frowned, why the fuck was she thinking about him at the moment? Zoe was the one missing. Did she have more feelings for Ben than she thought, or would admit? Damn.

  “Can I help ya, miss?” One of the paramedics asked, as he wiped down one of the examination tables. He was wearing a tight black polo shirt that barely contained his tattooed biceps. By his bearing, Anastasia could tell he was ex-military.