Zombie Island

by Gamboa, Allen

  “Send his ass or he’s fired!” Arton, frustrated, shouted into his radio.

  “He’s still not going, Chief,” Stella replied.

  “Fuck that shit!” Ray continued his rant in the distance. “I quit!”

  “Chief...” Stella said, offhandedly “Ray just quit.”

  “I heard.” Arton held the talk button down a little too tightly. “Tell that asshole to get the fuck outta my tower and off the island!” He released the button.

  “Ray heard ya, he ain’t too thrilled but he’s leaving.” The disgruntled guard could be heard cursing behind her transmission.

  “Stella.” Arton scanned the empty office. “I’m going to need you to go down there, I don’t have anyone else here. Ego will meet you at the toilets. Try and wake Mark and have him on over watch.”

  “O- Okay.”

  “Sorry Stella.” Arton let go of the talk button. He ran a hand over his smooth, sweaty head.

  “Chief…” Stella’s voice crackled over the radio. “Chief!” There was a distant crack then the walkie went dead.

  “Stella! Stella!” Arton shouted over the radio. Silence was the only reply. The security man wiped a hand across his sweaty face, what the hell was going on?

  “Chief!” Ego shouted across the walkie’s speaker. “We need help!” Ego screamed, then the radio crackled and went dead.

  “Ego! Ego!” There was no reply from the rookie. Arton angrily tossed his walkie across the room into a shelf of binders. Everything was falling apart. Arton slumped into his chair and buried his face in his hands. On his way into the office he’d been attacked by three crazed teenagers. The only thing that had saved him was his baton. The security chief had been able to knock them back and escape into his vehicle. Arton knew from experience that some of those strikes he’d dealt to his attackers were lethal, yet they kept coming. Arton had been able to put some distance between the crazed festival goers with his CanAm, but they still charged after him. The Chief was sure he’d lost them before he’d reached the office. Now Arton just needed some time to... think!

  The door to the security office suddenly flung open and a young, dishevelled dark-haired man burst inside. Arton, startled, jumped back and drew his taser. The wild-eyed man saw the security chief and hurried over in his direction. Thinking the crazy festival goers had tracked him down, Arton fired the taser.

  Before he could even ask for help, Joshua found himself screaming in pain from the shock of the less than lethal weapon. The security Chief continued to pull the tasers trigger as the teenager fell to the floor. Joshua reached up at the security man for help as everything went black.

  HE'S DEAD… BEN!

  Cockatoo Island

  Ben turned away from Ryan’s tent and unceremoniously vomited up last night’s dinner. After several dry heaves, he wiped his mouth on his shirt then glanced back over his shoulder. Anastasia stood behind him with her hand over her mouth sobbing. Ben spun around and slid an arm around her slim shoulders. The two had intended to head straight for the security station to report what they had found in the cave. On their way Ben had decided to give their campsite another check before they did. This was a decision he now regretted.

  “Ana…”

  “He’s dead, Ben!” She cried, burrowing her face into his chest. “Ryan’s fucking dead!”

  “Ana.” He held her tightly trying to give her some comfort. Normally Ben would be thrilled at the close physical contact with his long-time crush, but right now holding Anastasia was the only thing that was helping to hold him together. Keeping him from freaking out. “Ana, we need to get help.”

  “What about, Zoe?” She glanced up at him with puffy tear-filled eyes. “What about Em and Joshua and bloody Sam?”

  “We’ll find them,” Ben said, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Inside his mind he was working overtime trying to figure out exactly what had happened to Ryan.

  “You think Em killed him?” Anastasia asked. Ben noticed she was shaking, maybe even going into shock. The scene inside Ryan’s tent was more than horrific. Holding back the urge to start another round of dry heaves, Ben tried to recall what his old first aid classes had told him to do in cases of shock.

  “No, no way. Not Emma. She wouldn't hurt a fly. Besides she loved Ryan. Maybe Emma went with Joshua and Sam for help.”

  “S- should we wait for them to return? And what about Zoe?” Anastasia asked, pulling herself out of Ben’s comforting embrace and wiping her tear-filled eyes.

  “Sure, Anastasia. Someone should be coming soon.” Ben said, disappointed their intimate moment was up. His first instinct before she had moved away from him was to give her a kiss, Ben was suddenly thankful he hadn’t acted on it. He saw a beach towel wadded up on Samantha’s lawn chair and scooped it up. Ben then quickly draped it around Ana’s thin, trembling shoulders.

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  “Sit down, Ana.” He carefully guided Anastasia to the empty lawn chair and helped her down into it. Ben reached over to the groups open ice chest and removed a water bottle. Quickly popping the top, he handed it to the clearly frightened girl. “Drink this, Ana, it’ll help.” Anastasia nodded, and took several deep swallows from the water bottle. Satisfied she was now doing a little better, Ben grabbed another water bottle from the ice chest, for himself. He still couldn’t believe Ryan was dead, slaughtered like some kind of animal in his tent. The scene of Ryan’s mutilated body kept replaying in his head. It was like something out of a horror movie, but only worse. The only thing he could compare it to was the few times he’d visited his uncle at his butcher shop. Though his Uncle's shop was much cleaner and orderly. Snapping off the lid of the water bottle he realised his hands were shaking worse than Anastasia’s. What in the world was going on? Once both of them calmed down they would definitely head to the security station. Ben looked back over at Anastasia. She looked so helpless and sad wrapped in the oversized towel. Even though he was frightened as hell about what was going on, he found himself wanting to be closer to Ana. He knelt down in front of her and stared up into her big, brown eyes. Ben could feel his trembling stop and his heart melt. It was now, or never. The odds were never, it seemed, in Ben’s favour but he had to try.

  “Ana?”

  “Ben?” Anastasia frowned, pulling the towel around her shoulders.

  Ben leaned in to give her a kiss when suddenly he found himself flat on his back and Anastasia standing angrily above him.

  “For fucks sake, Ben!” She pulled the towel tight and stomped her foot down near his head. “Ryan’s not twenty feet away from us, DEAD, and what the fuck are you doing? Trying to get some ass from me?” Her voice almost cracked at that.

  “No! No, no!” Ben rolled to his knees. “I’m sorry, Anastasia. I just thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know.” He slowly crawled over to her. “Anastasia, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just scared and I let this whole thing get the best, or worst of me. I just needed some kinda comfort, I guess. I’m truly sorry. Please, please forgive me.”

  Anastasia let out a breath and nodded. “I get it, Ben. This is all so messed up. It’s… it’s okay, Ben, just no more trying to snog me. Alright?”

  “No worries, Anastasia. No worries.” He smiled, a little relieved. “I promise.”

  “Are you really scared?” Anastasia asked.

  “Yeah, I am!” Ben nodded.

  “Good.” She gave him a little smile then leaned forward in the lawn chair and gave him a tight hug. “Ben, what are we going to do?”

  As Anastasia squeezed him in close to her, Ben would never admit to her or anyone else how good it felt. He even felt himself start to get hard as Anastasia’s breast pressed against his chest. Ben had to stop thinking about her body or she would see what an arsehole he really was when he eventually stood up.

  “It’ll be okay, Ana.” He grudgingly let go of her and sat back on his knees trying to hide his erection. “Let’s wait another ten, fifteen minut
es then we can try for the security office. That sound good?”

  “Sure, Ben.” Anastasia nodded, taking another drink from the water bottle, already her shaking had subsided.

  “Maybe the others will come back.” Ben gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Maybe,” Anastasia said, wondering if Zoe was truly lost, or injured, or dead like Ryan. She shuddered at the thought and pulled the towel tightly across her shoulders.

  ZOMBIE GREEDY SMITH

  Cockatoo Island

  Mental as Anything had just finished their final set and were clearing the stage when the things that had been Rosie and, the recently turned roadie, Davey charged across the stage. Greedy Smith, the band's frontman, was busy waving to the audience as Rosie shoved past the slobbering, undead Davey and grabbed the unaware singer by the leg, burying her face into his thigh. The crowd went wild thinking this was part of the stage show. As Smith’s arterial blood sprayed the bouncers and audience in the front row, there were loud cheers and excited hoots from the oblivious festival goers. The Davey zombie grabbed another band member that had come to the anguished Smith’s aid. The dead roadie ripped the drummer’s right ear off, then sank his teeth into the screaming man’s throat. The band member dropped heavily to the stage floor with a loud thud as a dark fountain of blood spurted from his gaping neck wound. Less than a minute later the drummer would be back on his wobbly feet, hungry for the flesh of the living.

  “What the fuck?” The bands manager stood dumbstruck backstage as he watched the band members being ripped to shreds and devoured by the crazed man and woman, and now Mental as Anything’s, ravenous drummer. “Get some help out there!”

  The lead singer had suddenly collapsed onto the stage, unconscious due to shock and sudden blood loss. Most of the man’s left thigh was missing, or in Rosie’s crimson spattered jaws. Climbing over Smith’s lifeless body she leapt onto another band members back, snapping her flesh flecked teeth into the soft meat of his neck.

  “You!” The manager grabbed one of the roadies next to him. “Help them!”

  “Fuck you, mate!” The roadie said, as he shrugged his hand free from the manager’s grip and quickly ran off the stage followed by a couple other crew and band members.

  “Get the fuck back here or you’re fired!” The manager shouted, as he watched the terrified roadies sprint off the stage. He doubted that they could hear him above the roar of the crowd and the screams of the band. Looking down at the stage floor, the manager could see the bloodied lead singer crawling toward him.

  “Greedy?” He tentatively reached out to help him up. “You okay, mate?” At that exact instance the manager realised he was no longer looking at Greedy Smith, the legendary frontman of 80’s band, Mental as Anything. Before he could turn and run, the undead rocker grabbed his former manager’s hand and pulled him hard, face first onto the stage floor. With a sickening crunch, the zombified singer bit off his screaming manager’s nose. Jerking himself violently out of the dead man’s grip, the manager slammed heavily onto his back, a crimson fountain exploding out of his now nose-less face. Another zombie roadie, whose intestines dangled from out of a massive stomach wound, grabbed him by the head and attempted to yank it free from his neck. It was a horrible, gory sight as the zombie eventually succeeded in tearing the manager’s head away from his body. The exposed blood, sinew and neck stump of the limp manager’s corpse was too much for the people in the front rows. The stunned crowd, some splattered with blood from the bodies on the stage, were now quickly starting to understand that this wasn’t part of the show.

  A woman who was on her boyfriend’s shoulders, had pulled off her tank top to drunkenly show her saggy breasts to Greedy Smith. The topless woman had suddenly found herself splashed with the warm blood of the headless manager. Screaming and now partly sober, she struggled to climb off her boyfriend's shoulders to escape the waterfall of blood. This caused her boyfriend to also lose his balance and fall backwards into the already panicked crowd.

  The blood covered and topless woman crashed into a couple of teenage boys who really hadn’t been paying attention to the horror on the stage, but instead had been focused on the airborne woman’s naked breast. One of the teenagers had taken several pictures of the bare breasted woman with his mobile, he couldn’t wait to show his other school mates. Both boys went down hard as the upset woman slammed into them, breaking one of the boy’s noses in the process.

  “Fuck!” The boy mumbled, as he grabbed his bleeding face and tried to sit up. The panicking woman pushed him back down as she swiftly scrambled over the boys and away from the front of the stage. Before either of the teenagers could get back to their feet, a wave of front row concert goers turned to run away from the nightmarish scene before them. Unable to stand up, the two boys were crushed to death beneath the feet of the stampeding crowd. Several zombies ran off the stage towards the crowd. A few of them plunged to the ground breaking their legs and arms. The damage didn’t matter to the undead, as they crawled or stumbled to their feet. All that mattered was the hunger.

  One of the undead leapt into the mass of festival goers, landing on top of several of them. Ripping and tearing and biting, the blood and flesh flecked dead man had infected at least a half dozen more people.

  SOME KIND OF PAEDO!

  Cockatoo Island

  A group of about twenty panicked festival goers almost ran Arton Wells over as they frantically escaped the rows of portable outhouses, near the shower area. The security chief saw a teenage boy headed his direction and grabbed him by the neck of his white t-shirt.

  “What the bloody ‘ell is goin’ on here?” He said, practically pulling the boy off his feet.

  “Let go, ya asshole!” The freckled teenager tried to squirm out of Arton’s grip. “You some kind of paedo?”

  “Shut up!” He growled. “Why is everyone runnin’?” The boy just stared defiantly at Arton, eyes burning holes right through him. The shaved headed security chief gave him a hard shake. “Answer my damn question!”

  “You told me to shut up!” The boy smirked.

  “Listen ya bellend! No smart ass shit!” The security chief’s face was now beet red. Spittle flew from his lips as he spoke. “Why ya running?”

  “Hey, say it, don’t spray it!”

  “Enough, you little cum stain! Answer the fucking question!” The boy could see and sense the security man was almost at the end of his tether with him. “Now, why... ya... runnin’?”

  “‘Cause there’re some crazy fuckers back there biting an attackin’ everyone. Now let me go ya paedo!”

  “Biting people?” Arton frowned and released his grip on the boy, just enough to let him pull free and run off, cursing the security chief as he did so.

  “Fucking paedo!” The boy shouted, as he disappeared off into the crowds.

  “Bloody ‘ell!” Arton shook his head, as more people ran past him. Murder, riots, folks biting folks. They definitely weren’t paying him enough to handle this shit. Drawing his reloaded taser, he headed over to where all the commotion was. The rookie he sent out should have already had this situation under control. In fact, the rookie... Arton stopped in his tracks. The rookie stood before him covered in blood, chewing on a human arm. A string of sinewy flesh dangled from his crimson stained teeth. A woman’s armless body wriggled uncontrollably at his booted feet. Arton staggered backwards a few steps, not really comprehending what he was seeing. Fighting back the urge to throw up, the security man steadied himself as he glanced around. In fact, his security flunky wasn’t the only one eating people. A whole group of blood covered festival goers were devouring arms, legs and any other body parts of their victims that lay before them. Some still moved at their attacker’s feet, like the woman between the rookie’s legs.

  “My God,” Arton muttered to himself. The zombie security guard was suddenly aware of the other man’s presence. He dropped the half-eaten arm and spun around in the chief’s direction. Tripping over the now turned woman’s squirming bo
dy, the rookie fell face first to the ground. Still moaning and chewing on the cooling flesh that was still in his mouth, the dead man scrambled up to his feet. Bloody drool poured out of the rookie’s mouth as he stumbled after the security chief. It was then that Arton realised he still had the weapon in his hand and quickly let go the last charge from the taser. The weapons barbs sunk deep into the rookie’s neck as Arton squeezed the trigger hard. The charge sent the undead rookie to his knees. Arton squeezed the trigger again until there wasn’t any juice left in the taser. The dead man fell backwards, his undead brain now a fried mess. The burning smell of flesh, kinda like barbecued pork, almost made Arton puke. Now, the armless, dead woman had crawled out from under the rookie’s corpse and was making her way toward Arton.

  “No! No!” The chief tossed the useless taser away and drew his expandable baton. With a fast, hard swing, he smashed the one-armed woman across the chest. The blow knocked the woman to the side, but didn’t stop her. Black blood flying from her angry, snapping jaws, she again reached for Arton. The chief frantically swung his baton again and again at her head, a no, no in any Police officer manual. But this was a dire situation. The baton strikes crushed in the side of her skull, splashing fetid black blood all over Arton’s polo shirt. Letting out a sad moan, she collapsed to the ground, unmoving.