by Bonds, Javan
Both outer prongs stayed on a parallel path, causing the same havoc on either side. To just below the belly button, the three points were now shredding the gastrointestinal system. Ten times the weight of the two infected worth of steaming, mushy charcoal rolled out the guts and made splashing plops. Before reaching the sternum, my girlfriend twisted the sai before jerking them out, She just ruined any chance these creatures had at continuing their unlives.
☠☠☠
On my left, I noticed Robert sigh before dropping his shotgun and clenching his fists. The Devil’s Pizza Cutter was about to be used for its intended purpose, slashing defense. Lifting his shield, he frisbeed the device at one of the nearest animals. The slicing edge cut into the beast’s throat, causing it to stop and reach up. Stemming the arterial geyser could be attempted, but would never be achieved. It slowly sank into a pool of its own lifeblood.
Before the star emblazoned disc even impacted its target, Captain America was already moving. His unbelievably fast feet fell with what must’ve been enhanced speed. Forming the Superman pose in midair, he made tackling contact with his first victim.
A male, probably not an adult before turning, was knocked flat onto its back. The brass knuckles sank into its chest right above the rib cage. Before wrenching the razors free, Robert brought his thumbs together, severing arteries and more than one vital connection between body and head. Writhing its death throes, the blunatic could only whimper and gurgle, lungs no longer able to receive air.
The rippling slab of muscle that was Robert Coe stood and flexed his massive arms. Gesturing for the closest spawn of Satan to approach, he stepped in its direction when it didn’t move fast enough. Shaking in the socks it wasn’t wearing, it was now within reaching distance of the superhero.
He reared back and cold cocked the thing in the left jaw. What had to be every blackened tooth rocketed from the mouth. At such a speed, I couldn’t be sure, but I think some of them went through the cheek and kept flying. His punch broke the jaw on both sides. Maybe the razor had severed it, but the tongue also flopped out onto the floor. Lower jaw was attached only by skin. Even if the first avenger hadn’t slammed his fist down on the skull, shattering the brittle brain casing and everything it protected, the gaping, bleeding maw that was once a mouth could never possibly be used again for mastication.
☠☠☠
Both comic book characters in front of me continued dismembering the undead. Not yet believing the situation was as desperate as it was, I continued sending bursts from my M4, dropping starving shit machine after emaciated cannibal. Though not in my field of vision, I was able to catch Devin’s hopeless plea to an unseen presence. “No! But...”
Facing him, I came close to asking what was wrong. The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. There was nothing any of us could do. No way could we change what was supposed to be. Somehow, in that brief exchange of looks, I knew he knew. Also, I understood there was nothing we could do to stop it. Fuck!
☠☠☠
Nearly at the end of my last magazine, I moved forward and pulled the bull whip from my hip. A peevie’s head vaporized when the slashing leather came into contact with the blue cranium. There were no bone shards, solid gray matter, or anything large enough to recognize. With just a touch from The Tech’s unexplainably enhanced bullwhip, everything above the Adam’s apple simply turned into a fine powder. Of course, it was immediately consumed by the spouting red from the neck. Liquid tar shot from the other end. It’s fun no matter how many times I do it!
The entire time, we had been moving closer to the children, step-by-step. All we could do was tactically withdraw slowly. Our backs would be against the fort before long. Were we really about to lose?
Though the revenants were still gaining ground, their numbers seemed to be dwindling. They were still coming, but not in the same massive, screaming, stinking, raging swarm. Only an infinite number to go!
My whip went flying, strangely wrapping around the neck of one of the infected. I tugged and heaved, only to drag the trapped monster closer. Pulling out my M9 pistol, I double tapped the thing in the back of the head. Bloodied gray matter erupted from the remaining orb.
Amy, Devin, and Robert all three took part in their own small battles. None of them saw the blunatic charging me. It was hungry like the rest, but it clearly wasn’t on the same level of starvation as its fellows. I could see military tattoos covering its still muscular frame. Though it made me blink, I wasn’t going to lose sleep over laying a former brother in arms to rest.
The only weapon I had was my pistol. Having just dropped the zombie besides the one staring at me, my Beretta jammed. Maybe because of my stupid belligerence, I chose not to call out to the others.
After vainly attempting to rack my gun back to normal, I screamed before throwing my sidearm at the monster. “Motherfucker!”
Feeling the impact against its chest, it halted its forward momentum. Looking down at what I had thrown, it slowly brought its gaze to my eyes. It smiled maliciously. In that momentary stare, It was like I could read its fucking mind.
This one knows what this is; from sometime before? Matters not. Still this one knows what it is and knows how it is used. Not stupid this one. Know we will not get the food we seek. If we not getting it, neither are you.
The demonic creature reached down and picked up my pistol. I’m going to believe muscle memory told the thing to pick it up by the grip. It raised its arm and pointed the handgun first at me then at one of the propane tanks near the fort full of children. There’s no way it wasn’t conscious of what it was doing.
I started running at the thing, screaming an incomprehensible war cry.
It smiled maliciously and pulled the trigger.
No one could react in any way before a round left the barrel of the now miraculously unjammed weapon. I was going to kill the monster... and every fucking one of the evil bastards!
As the tiny piece of lead impacted the container; for a split second, nothing happened. Maybe the tank was empty. Death hadn’t really claimed victory here. I was about to start laughing.
There was a slight hint of blue as the air turned to blue fire consuming the minuscule barricades surrounding those defenseless kids. Everyone and everything was knocked over. The fort and all of its occupants were blown deeper into the cooking area as the entirety of the kitchen was being eaten by an unstoppable blaze. The defenders were blown out into the cafeteria area.
Pops and explosions could be heard as containers of flammable liquid in the cooking area ignited. There would be no survivors in the kitchen and on top of that we wouldn’t be able to get to the food with the freezers being on the other side of the all consuming fire. This was another wasted trip! We got absolutely nothing from coming here.
☠☠☠
Easing as I stood, I realized there wouldn’t be a fight. The former sailor was lying on the floor having received a piece of shrapnel in the temple. Blood was pooling under its head.
“Everyone still alive?” I questioned without even looking around.
Bedraggled calls came from all three of my comrades. Turning to my girlfriend, I noticed my bullwhip on the floor to my side. Convenient. Amy had her sword in her hand. Somehow, my pistol was in my hand. My hat was even still on my head!
“Like, what now, dude?” the blonde Elektra questioned.
I looked over to my copilot. “Well, I doubt we’re getting in the freezers...” His slight shake of the head let me know I was right.
Sighing, I looked up at the heavens. “I guess we're going home, then.”
As the four of us made our way to the door, a young Mexican girl fell out of the broom closet beside the entry. “It’s tranquila and I heard you talking. Does that mean they are ido?”
It was surprising to see any of the survivors alive. “Who are you and where did you come from?” I asked.
She coughed after being in a dusty closet. “Yorley Garcia. I was temerosa Señora Haugen was enojada at
me because I opened the botella she closed so I did not ir con everyone else.” Lucky for her she didn’t. “Where did everybody go?”
I didn’t want to tell a little girl all her friends were smears being scorched in the kitchen. All I could do was look up the door. “They left. You need to come with us.”
“Buena!” She shouted before holding out her arms to Amy. My girlfriend lifted the small child and we made our way outside.
☠☠☠
“So... We just gonna let the school burn down?” We couldn’t really call the fire department anymore. At least I could imagine some injured and immobile peevies alive and burning inside.
Ghost Rider looked at me. “What do you expect us to do?”
My only response was to shrug.
Amy set Yorley on the asphalt. “You, like, ready to go on a helicopter ride?” The child squealed in excitement and Amy responded. “Totally!”
All five humans loaded into Skywalker. We were all exhausted. Other than the joy of killing zombies, we got nothing from our marathon of bloodletting. Wait! We did save a kid. So maybe it was worth it.
One kid. Out of God knows how many. That was depressing. What’s even worse, it was ultimately my fault they all died. Remember where that monster got the pistol. Why did I throw the gun? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Perhaps there’s nothing I could’ve done differently. Everything in my training ever would tell me not to do something like throw a loaded firearm at my enemy. What the hell possessed me to do something so stupid? I don’t remember making the conscious decision.
There were no disparaging looks from my compatriots. They weren’t blaming me for the deaths of those children. I’ll just have to convince myself there was no saving them. It goes without saying, I’ll continue to beat myself up and suffer guilt for being the cause of such loss of life. Maybe there’ll be a chance soon to save some people.
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43
A House of Gold
“Today... we have finally overcome the infection that burdens us all. Under my leadership, The Nash is now secure... an oasis in the sea of zombies. Our citizenry is now free!” Even though they actually were far from free, there were a few scattered claps and unenthusiastic hoots.
Standing on the stage of what was once the Ryman Auditorium, Reaca gestured for some to rise. “We can’t forget those that sacrificed everything to make our lives better. And the assault team members that survived the events of this day deserve our gratitude! Let’s hear it for...” His eyes flicked down to a piece of paper in his hand. “Sue Crafter, Denise Goodall, Sonia OMahini, Paul Rawlings, and Gareth Stevens!”
Rising along with the others to file onto the stage, Paul’s mind was racing. It’s funny that all four of the others are some of my mates from home. Were they partnered together or was there one survivor each, out of five recon teams? Were there really that few nests left to clean out?
There were usually dozens of strike legions every day. Maybe no one made it from the rest of the groups. I know every one of them heard my suspicions of what Fielder has been doing with the bodies of the fallen, so they’ll definitely back me. Maybe. I hope.
I’m glad there are five of us, just like most of the assault units. Only wish we had some bladed weapons. We’d have no problem taking out that bastard... and perhaps even some of his goons. It goes without saying, we’ll probably all be going down, but at least we’ll be taking him with us. No matter what happens up there, I’m gone either way. Might as well go out with a bang.
☠☠☠
Minutes before Reaca took the stage, all slaves were given a short bathroom break. Paul stood in line outside the men’s, working himself up. I won’t have a chance to turn. Not even infected yet, and I’m already sweating bullets. Take it easy. Be cool.
Rawlings stood in front of the toilet, holding onto the cup full of zombie blood, hidden right where Mortimer said it would be. His hands were shaking. Earlier, they told him he, and a few others, would “be called onto the stage by the boss man.” No way I’ll be able to carry the container with me, take out the shard of glass, and be ready to stab Reaca without freaking the buggers the hell out. Should’ve brought a plastic bag. Hindsight’s 20/20!
“Hurry up man. I gotta go!” a knock and voice came from outside the stall.
Paul took the blood soaked piece of glass out of the cup to place in his pocket. At this point, he realized the bloody fracture of the glazing wouldn’t remain bloodied for long. I don’t have any extra infected blood left. What should I do? If I end up sticking Fielder with just a broken picture frame, it’ll only piss him off. And I’ll still get killed anyway. Gotta make this count! He had to do what he knew he was going to have to do from the beginning.
With a morbid smile and no more thinking, he raised the ranch dressing container to his lips and tilted his head back. All of it was downed in a single gulp. Now, I can slice my own hand... And then cut him!
Next, he flushed the commode before raising the tank lid to leave the empty container floating. Turning to unlock the door, he laughed, attempting to appear inconspicuous. I guess that’s all she wrote. Have at it, mate!” Coming out the door, he fiddled with his zipper as if just finishing.
☠☠☠
I really just bloody did that. Holy fuck me! I’m now a peevie! Nothing to do now but go ahead with my plans. Looks like Reaca will remember me for the rest of his life. Taking his seat, he almost chortled. And that will only be another eight hours!
☠☠☠
44
Mo Journal Entry 3
The man who initially approached us, Junior, was a jovial old guy with a big family. I couldn't really be sure if everyone with him was a relative. Actually, most of them did share a lot of looks. Maybe Sharon Jean was his wife. At least a few of the kids were his, and every other individual at the table had to be a cousin or brother... possibly cousin/brother.
He and three other men, all stunt doubles for Grizzly Adams, led the entire crew to a giant picnic table. Still getting used to our surroundings, we sat down with what seemed like dozens of other people. Breaking into smaller conversations, we prepared to feast.
Leaning over to our host, I spoke. "I guess you are set up then?"
Junior gave a goofy smile. "Damn right, son! We got it pretty easy now without them government taxes and shit. Only thing I miss is Bud Light. Homemade stuff ain't near as good. But... it'll still get ya tore up!" Raising an eyebrow, I noticed pitchers of a yellowish liquid being brought to the table.
I imagine Junior and several of his brothers, or whatever the hell they were, snickered, questioning my worth as a man when I chose to stick with my water. I know it would be polite to partake of what is offered by hosts. Grateful I may be, I’m just not willing to drink straight from the horse's bladder to show my appreciation. If they had some moonshine though... then I'd be getting shitfaced.
Cornbread came out. Next, there was okra, black-eyed peas, and more than my weight in turnip greens. It was all followed by the most juicy, succulent slices of steak I ever saw! Though I wasn't sure what kind of spice they used, I had to get Sharon Jean to give some to Crow before we left.
I was probably going to cry if he said it was, but it had to be asked. "Is that a pig?" Remember from my fourth Journal, the story about my allergy to pork? Of course you do.
Chuckle-burping, he shook his head. "Naw. This is ten times better!"
Waiting for my plate to be passed down, mouth watered and I nearly moaned as it drew closer. The smell of the most gorgeous, tender looking, marbled steak I had ever seen with obligatory sides was beyond belief. I had dreams about meals like this at home, Mama just always found something else to do besides cook. Especially for me!
I guess because there are so few people left in the world, it makes everyone feel more generous. Hell, even I offered to give people basically anything... and I'm normally an asshole. These country people were obviously friendly. We could tell that the instant we met Junior.
<
br /> Raking my utensils together, I was about to start devouring the meal. "So is it deer? Gator? This looks amazing!"
I sliced through the succulent meat, tender as filet mignon and speared a juicy chunk with my fork. As I started toward my watering mouth with a bite Junior leaned forward and grinned, exposing his mouthful of crooked teeth. "Gator season ain't for a few more months. Them damn blue monsters have some pretty good meat on ‘em."
Freezing in place, my eyes grew wide. "What?" My utensils clanged on the table. "This is peevie?"
From the look on his face, this wasn’t the moniker commonly given to “them damn blue monsters,” at least not locally. Regardless, he knew what I was talking about. He looked surprised I would have a problem with this. "Yeah. So?"
"They… used to be… people." I said blankly.
Cocking his head, as if he was confused. "But they ain't now. Plus, they taste a helluva lot better." He shoved a juicy chunk of former people meat in his mouth and began to chew. I could taste vomit in the back of my throat.
What the fuck does that mean? Immediately, I made a query, "How do you know..." my question trailed.
Sharon Jean picked up in defense of her husband. "They're just animals! We're using 'em the way God intended."
It's debatable that they're just animals. Or that God intended for humans to become rabid apes. They could have their fill of long pig; I wouldn't knowingly be a cannibal. Anyway, how the hell did they not get infected eating zombies before now?
"How can you eat it without getting infected?"
Swallowing his mouth full of peevie and cramming another chunk of meat in his mouth, the redneck chortled. "I seen it happen. Ya just gotta cook it twice."
How the fuck did anybody find that out? Just like poke salat; did somebody cook it, eat it, and die? All before their buddy picked it up. "Hey, maybe we just need to cook it again!"
