Still Alive (Book 7): Zombie Perdition

by Bonds, Javan

  “Steve? Marie?” They chose to act as if they didn’t know him. And maybe they didn’t. Anymore.

  Nevertheless, they pushed onward only at the whim of their deluded cult leader. The backup of an equal piece of sporting equipment and a double-bladed fire axe even more so lowered their chances of walking away. Even if not thoughtlessly running to the opened gates of hell, that would be their ultimate destination.

  The married couple tried to stay out of range of Paul while continuing their assault on his fellow. Quite a few feet from their target, they were uneasily satisfied with the distance. Rushing closer, Marie, at Elliott’s left, realized it wasn’t far enough. Unfortunately for her, it was much too late to turn back now.

  Every ounce of strength Paul could muster went into slinging the axe. The blade collided with Marie Silverthorne just above the collarbone, at a straight 180 degrees. Like a Broken Pez dispenser, her head simply popped off. Crimson rocketed from the nearly clean stump her cranium used to rest. After being beheaded so quickly, her body needed a moment to realize it was no longer receiving brain signals. Finally, it dropped in a bowel voiding pile with the decapitated head landing face first in the gooey shit.

  “Baby!” Steve screamed as he turned. Soon, he would realize there was nothing he could do for his wife...or himself.

  It seemed that despite his betrothed’s seemingly painless passing, he would receive violent torment while in this world—all for the viewing pleasure of The Audience. By the will of The Screenwriter, he would receive an end fitting for the silver screen.

  Saunders slammed the blunt blade of his machete into Steve’s right shoulder muscle, just above the collarbone. After a yank, he discovered it was stuck fast in the bone. Next, he took the bat in his right hand and slammed it into the side of Silverthorne’s knee. Crying in unknowable agony, the follower of Miss Cassandra fell over. The angle of the un-cushioned drop caused the rusty knife to spring free. What luck!

  Hitting the floor and rolling onto his back, Steve still grasped the broken bottle in his hand. As Paul walked closer, he waved it in his general direction. “You’re going to hell, unbeliever!” He spoke as if he didn’t recognize his old mate.

  Putting his boot on the hand in question, Rawlings pushed it to the ground. Bones snapped as shards of glass sliced into it. He shrugged and snickered. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure of it. And you’ll be there waiting for us. I don’t know how this crazy bitch converted you or Marie. For Chrissakes, I didn’t even know either one of you were alive. Now, neither of you will be!”

  “No!” He shook his head, violently. “I am one of The Protected. You sinners will be cast down to the hottest pits of hell!” Vainly, Silverthorne attempted to spit up at his former friend.

  Standing over the twisted apostate, he chuckled. “Uh-huh. Well, tell me how that bloody Protection works out for ya.”

  Next, Paul picked his foot up and over the man’s body. He stomped down onto the other hand, shattering almost every bone. He then took his axe blade, pressing down against the wrist. Crimson began fountaining from the radial and ulnar arteries, as his hand was sliced cleanly free. Steve Silverthorne would get to slowly bleed out while staring at the orbless corpse of his wife.

  “You know, we probably are going to hell.” Elliott turned to his friend in shock after watching him strangely enjoy committing murder.

  The other laughed without mirth. “Yeah, well... we know Steve here, will be keeping a seat warm for us.”

  ☠☠☠

  With only another dozen or two of crazed disciples between the tourists and their decided goal, Miss Cassandra Machemer stepped within speaking distance and yelled. “You have defiled our sanctuary. Now, The Protectors will bring you eternal justice. There are only so many chances for repentance. You will come to understand the fury of The Protectors!” When she finished speaking, she pulled a glass bottle from within her tunic.

  Throughout her diatribe, Rawlings was judging the distance between them and the angle at which he would need to throw his fire axe to make contact with Miss Cassandra. He reared his arm back to its limit before throwing it forward with all his might. If not having been limbered up already from the ceaseless brawl since coming onto this level of the Loews, the forceful release would’ve strained more than one tendon. Thankfully for him, the launch was miraculously perfect.

  Whistling true, the metal head tumbled straight. Wooden handle made the exact same overture, repeatedly. Just before one of the double blades impacted the deranged cult leader directly between the eyes, she tossed the fragile container up, nearly touching the ceiling.

  Reeling back with the blow, she grew silent. In the next instant, her eyes crossed when looking up at the firemen’s tool protruding from her face. One tip of the blade was driven halfway into her brain. Though she didn’t understand, she was dead.

  Raising a hand to touch it, not sure if it was really there, blood started squirting from her nose, leaking from her ears, and even dripping from her ocular cavities. Focusing her attention on the item that suddenly appeared at the bridge of her nose, she could only stare in bewilderment. Though it couldn’t be seen in her face in the few nanoseconds, she remained conscious; excruciating agony was surely her last experience. Cassandra Machemer was about to learn the secrets of The Protectors.

  As she collapsed, Paul started racing forward. “Don’t let it hit the bloody ground!”

  Several feet from where it would clearly explode against the carpet, he jumped and dove for a slide into home plate. His hands were stretched to the point where he just knew it would hit and shatter. In a freeze-frame, gravity seemed to shift, and the plane almost violently moved. Just beyond Rawlings’s reach, the bottle hit the floor.

  He didn’t even have to sniff to know what it was. Standing, he called out to his countryman. “I know. It’s vinegar,” he sighed.

  After a deep inhalation, Elliott clicked his tongue. “Right-o, mate!! Guess we need to see if we can get in one of these rooms.”

  Before either of them jiggled a knob, excited, frantic yipping came from below them... from all around. If the monsters were only one floor below, they both knew they would be on them in seconds. On either side of the hallway, they tried each door they passed. Finally, Rawlings pushed down on one lever and fell into the open doorway.

  Hearing the shout of alarm, his friend turned and hooted. “You just saved our arses, matey!” As he said this, he hurled himself through the doorway, over his comrade.

  ☠☠☠

  18

  Memoirs of Benji: One

  My contact at the police department, Sergeant Sako, hadn’t reported any kidnappings or volunteered us for anymore searches in the past couple of days. You could bet I wasn’t going to buzz him and ask if he wanted to perform another fruitless investigation. I got more than my fill of malnourished, shit covered, blue nudity at Cracker Barrel. Finally, I was having a lazy Saturday afternoon of not reclaiming or doing some other life-threatening chore.

  Neal Paradis wasn’t around, probably exercising. Maybe he was running across the island again... or paying a visit to the Running Man, Bradley Gage’s workout gym. Robert Coe was surprisingly at home. I guess he was hanging out with his girlfriend, Chrystal. Just strange not to have seen him today, garbed as Captain America. For once, it was so quiet; it was almost scary.

  Well, quiet...when Amy and I weren’t busy...strategizing...our battle plans... or our next...outing. We had to go over our tactics, repeatedly. Just to make sure we had everything right. You could say we were drilling.

  She rolled off me onto her back. “Are we, like, doing anything today?”

  Raising an eyebrow, I answered with my own question. “You mean besides what we’ve been doing?”

  My girlfriend scoffed. “Like, totally!”

  “You wanna go on another scavenging mission, don’t you?”

  Amy repeated. “Like, totally!”

  Moaning, I whined. “Seriously, Amy... come on!”

  She snicke
red playfully. “Like, okay. Again! But you have to promise, for reals.”

  I perked up...in more ways than one. “Where we going?”

  “Like, Shades of Pemberley.”

  This was confusing. “The what?”

  Amy sighed. “Like, the bookstore in Albertville. It’s totally named from Jane Austen.”

  Widening my eyes, I gestured for her to continue. She did with a growl. “’Pride and Prejudice!”

  Smiling, I finished for her. “And Zombies?”

  The woman of my dreams tsked. “That’s a modern play on a, like, ageless classic, totally!”

  I shrugged. “Whatever. It’s entertaining. You looking for paperbacks?”

  Amy clicked her tongue condescendingly. “Like, if you didn’t know, there’s been a zombie apocalypse. I totally can’t download anything on my Kindle...for some reason.”

  Ignoring the attitude, I looked at her. “Got anything specific in mind?”

  “Not, like, really. Just wanna see what they have and everything.”

  I returned with a joke. “Well, if nothing stands out to you... we can always wait until the next time they restock.”

  She made a show of laughing. “Haha! Might as well get em before they get, like, covered in poop.”

  “Good point,” I nodded. “So... when are we leaving?”

  Grinning seductively, she licked her lips. “Oh... I dunno. I think I, like, have a few things to take care of first.”

  “Just a few?” I questioned.

  Giggling, she pushed me onto my back. “For reals!”

  ☠☠☠

  This trip was totally worth it. Now I’m doing it. Valley girl speak is, like, contagious. But it’s okay. I’m proud to be infected. I don’t think she bit me, but there may have been an exchange of body fluids! Several times.

  Wearing my leather gloves, bomber jacket, and wide-rimmed Fedora, I sauntered over to Elektra as she zipped up her bodysuit. Cupping my hand, I smacked her leotard covered ass, making a loud clap. She jumped and cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder. “Really, dude?”

  I grinned. “Is that an offer?”

  Amy took a step away. “You wish, skank.” At my frown, she teased. “After we get back from the bookstore, we’ll see.”

  Grabbing her by the shoulder, I pulled her along. “We should probably get going then!”

  ☠☠☠

  Devin Landers, the copilot of my AC130, Azrael 2, pilot of our newly procured MH 60 Seahawk helicopter, Skywalker, was on his back on a creeper, working on something underneath the whirly-bird. As the two of us walked closer, he rolled out from his position. Funny, he was already wearing his Ghost Rider get up. I don’t remember seeing any grease on him, like would be expected of one doing mechanic work on a chopper. Hell, there weren’t even any tools in his hands!

  Kneeling in front of Amy, he took her hand and gently kissed her fingertips. “You must allow me to tell you how honored I am to escort you this easy distance, madam. It is indeed a joy to me.”

  Almost melting, she responded. “I thank you sir; I place myself in your capable hands. And the joy is mine.”

  I’ve heard that before. It had to be a quote or a scene from something. Maybe I’m going to step out on a limb and say it’s close to Pride and Prejudice. You know, since he already knew where we were going.

  She hopped up into the crew compartment of Skywalker, and Devin headed to the pilot’s seat. I looked on obtusely for a moment. Had they had a conversation about this earlier? Was this already planned? Am I on candid camera? Eventually, I started making my way around to sit beside Landers. Must’ve already been decided; by someone.

  ☠☠☠

  Skids touched down in the parking lot behind Mater’s pizza, on the south side of Highway 75, just across the street from Shades of Pemberley. It wasn’t too much of a shocker there were cars in this parking lot like in every other. Just being this close to Mater’s made me crave a pizza. Imagining a thin crust, loaded with every topping including anchovies, makes my mouth water.

  What? Anchovies are actually delicious. If you don’t believe me, try it next time you go to a buffet. Oh, wait. I keep forgetting about that whole zompocalypse thing. Just take my word for it. I know I can’t be the only one with good taste. Maybe I could pick up a can, be like Fry in Futurama, the last anchovies in existence.

  Coming to the highway, I stopped walking and squeezed Amy’s hand a little tighter. Once she paused, I looked both ways before continuing. “What the eff, dude?”

  I did a poor job of laughing at myself. “Just a habit.”

  “Like, you worried about getting a ticket for jaywalking?”

  “I’m just so used to following the rules. I’m in the Navy, remember? Well, I was. Everything works because of routine,” I replied.

  Scoffing, she gestured over to my copilot. “Like, so is he.” He didn’t slow his pace, feet moving from concrete to blacktop.

  All I could do was shrug. “He’s seen this movie before.”

  ☠☠☠

  Coming to the door of the bookstore, it could’ve been just another quiet day in a small Alabama city. Nothing around us gave any indication there had been a world-destroying plague sweep over Albertville. Other than the fact that there was no electrically powered anything in sight, no car engines running, and no birds chirped, we could have convinced ourselves it was all a dream, a dream of shit...shitty dreams.

  Strangely, I tugged on the glass door only to find it locked. At a loss, I threw up my hands. A downtown shop closed in the middle of a business day. Why? Oh, wait!

  “Was May 5th a Sunday?” Without tearing my gaze from the pristine paperbacks on the other side of the glass, I questioned Amy.

  Her thinking was nearly audible. “I think it was a... like, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “The door is locked,” I replied.

  Before she could reply, Devin stepped forward and made three loud taps on the door with his fist. He calmly took a step back; hands clasped at ease. Looking at him, I was bewildered. Even so, I also moved back, pulling my girlfriend with me.

  Inside, a woman came from the back of the store; A human female. And she was wearing clothes and everything. Though she had something of an insane look in her eye, she appeared overall healthy. Seeing she had customers, she hurried to fit the key into the lock.

  Opening the door, she greeted us. “Welcome to Shades of Pemberley! Sorry. I hope I didn’t appear closed. I’m just trying to keep the riffraff out.” Oh, so she was one of those peevie deniers.

  Looking around the spotless interior, I breathed. “Well, it seems like you did a good job of keeping them away.” I wonder if she had any disinfectant around. Maybe the smell of something like a library covered her scent.

  She turned, moving further into the store. The three of us followed, we came to what looked like a castle created with bookshelves. Though the front of the store wasn’t empty, the lady had clearly fortified the back quarter into her own safe haven.

  Gesturing to either side, she showcased her collection of novels. “One of our most popular sellers, Claire Legrand’s Furyborn. And over there’s Girl Wash Your Face. This woman really knew her stuff... at least about books of which I’ve never heard. She pointed to either side of the entrance of her lair. “Our George RR Martin and Tolkien sections.”

  Walking inside, she showed us her prized possession. “And here’s my private personal collection of Jane Austen.”

  Oh! So that’s why she named the store Shades of Pemberley.

  By the look on Amy’s face, I knew this was why we came. “Like, you got extras?”

  With a smile, the bookstore owner returned. “Of course. More than one!” She pointed over to a shelf lined with said author.

  As she moved to the indicated spot, I looked at her back. “What’s your name?”

  Our hostess slowed. “Brandi... with an I. What about you?”

  For sure, no insignia was visible anywhere on me. “Benjamin Collins. United States Nav
y.” Even though there wasn’t such a thing anymore, the response was automatic.

  In denial, she may have been, but like everyone else, she asked the same excited question. “Are you here to save me?” I couldn’t help but grunt that I was.

  Brandi turned around fully and brightened. “Oh my God, thank you!” Eyes going wide, she remembered something. “I’ve got to go get Ken, Peyton, Lily, Tanner, and Kenzie. Wait here!” She ran around me, out the bastion, to the backroom, the kitchenette area.

  She grabbed her purse. I heard what I instinctively thought were just car keys jingling on a key ring. Then she hurried out the door and was gone. I’ll never find out, but I’m guessing she wanted to save her husband and kids. Apparently, when she wasn’t reading, she was busy producing offspring.

  ☠☠☠

  Moving with blind ferocity, Brandi Atchison had reached for her handbag on the counter. Having been resting there so long, she didn’t pay attention to the fact the strap had been pushed around behind several glass jars at the back of the countertop. When she pulled her purse, they all went crashing to the floor. There was no time to worry about it; her family was more important!

  ☠☠☠

  If she had a working automobile and was planning to drive to find her family, I’ve got to ask a question. Why the hell didn’t she use it before now? Regardless, I rightfully wasn’t expecting to see her again. But it would’ve been nice to take a survivor back to Guntersville once in a while. Too bad we will never find out what happened to Brandi.

  My copilot pulled his gun around, cocking the charging handle. I was aware of what that meant. Not even rotating my head, I questioned him, “Why?”

  “Supposed to be,” he coldly stated.