Still Alive (Book 7): Zombie Perdition

by Bonds, Javan

  Shit! Not that one either. I’m not losing my soul. But from what I’ve seen of some of these fucking people, they sure as hell are. Don’t fucking matter what you call it. It’s clear something’s going on. I need to find out what.

  The night duty policeman stepped from his office, nudging Bennett. “The fuck’s going on?”

  ☠☠☠

  50

  Alone and Forsaken

  What just happened was unbelievable. Nearly a dozen people had died in the span of only a few minutes. Having seen the slaughter of so many people in the place, they were now, it felt strangely empty, a void in space-time. Paul and Denise could only gape in utter shock at the scene before them.

  Both people standing in the spotlight knew they had guns trained on them; they just weren’t able to see them. Rawlings spoke out the side of his mouth. “Pick up one of the pistols...now. Point it at Reaca.”

  Though he wanted to scream out and alert his followers, The Wolf was too afraid to speak. She looked over at the closest, handless body. No weapon. Then, she glanced at the one lying down, as if sleeping, against it. Nothing there, either.

  Finally, she took in O’Mahony’s orbless corpse. “Aha!” She took a step to grasp the .380. That would be her last conscious movement.

  Because the hall was so quiet, the high-powered rifle blast sounded louder than a nuclear bomb. The round impacted just at the left corner of her mouth. Moving to Sonia’s body got her far enough away from The Dictator, the gangsters felt comfortable putting a round through her. Paul would never be sure where the sniper was, for the moment, he was sure he was safe from the shooter.

  Almost in slow motion, Rawlings watched as one of his last remaining friends be snuffed out. Her cranium became an exploding soufflé of bone, head cheese, and body fluids found from the shoulders up. As the pieces fell, the orbless cadaver lost rigidity and collapsed. Crimson continued to rocket, heart still pumping. Another Briton just got to the end of everything.

  Marinating in her juices along with nearly every other human on the platform, Denise Goodall received a different demise than all others. While they were all dead or very close to it because of small caliber shots or melee attacks, her fatality came at the hands of a sniper with a high-powered rifle. She doubtfully felt the bullet that ended her, though it was reasonably extravagant.

  ☠☠☠

  What’s a bloke to do? I know they won’t shoot me, being in such proximity to their boss. Knew when I came up here I wouldn’t be walking away. Even if I did, I’d be blue in a few hours. I’m fucking tired, anyway.

  With this acceptance, Paul smiled from ear to ear. “Hey, Reaca?”

  No longer struggling, Fielder seemed somewhat relaxed. He looked up at the man gripping his hands. “Yeah?”

  In a whisper, Paul laughed. “I’m infected.” The Dictator’s eyes grew wide in questioning shock.

  Before he could speak, Rawlings swept his legs out from under him and let loose his hands. Falling flat onto his back, the leader of The Black Hand had the wind knocked from his lungs. Now, Reaca was out of the immediate line of fire. Now the man they were yearning to get rid of could be blown away by shooters from any direction.

  Arms spread wide, and with a smile on his face, Paul turned and faced The Audience.

  Looking up into the bright lights, he spoke loudly, “Well, let’s get it over with!”

  Though he never heard the reports, three large bore pieces of lead crashed into his smiling face. For less than a heartbeat, he felt pressure as they made their way through him. The first round collided with his chin, peeling back skin and bursting every small blood vessel in the area. Before crimson could start falling, bone pushed in, pulverizing itself. Even if survival was possible, the fragmented mouth could never be used for anything close to mastication again.

  Rounds two and three hit him almost simultaneously, on either side of the nose. Eyes started sinking to the center, along with everything else that could be called a feature. Everything from just below the larynx became a chunky paste. The cranium simply burst like an overripe tomato in a vacuum.

  Rounds two and three hit him almost simultaneously, on either side of the nose. Eyes started sinking to the center, along with everything else that could be called a feature. Everything from just below the larynx became a chunky paste—the cranium burst like an overripe tomato in a vacuum.

  Eventually, what used to be Paul Rawlings toppled over backward. He’d heard the phrase his entire life, but it had just been proven to be wrong. You don’t always die alone. Maybe Fielder was an enemy, but he was only a few feet away, looking up at Paul when his brain casing exploded. If everyone’s end at the Ryman that night had been as painless on their journey to an undiscovered country, the show would doubtfully have been as entertaining to The Audience.

  ☠☠☠

  51

  The Ultimate Weapon

  Prophecy from The Book of Smokes

  Often seen as a loser, reject, and failure, The Darkhorse will try to redeem a troubled past. Becoming a titled protagonist will afford the underdog this very opportunity. Regardless of prior experiences, The Darkhorse will find camaraderie among the significant fellowship. So intense will these bonds become, the character may become The Sacrifice, giving their life for those that have turned into brothers.

  ☠☠☠

  Since making the city of Guntersville his new home, Neal Paradis had set up residence in the same complex as the people who saved him from a wave of infected at The Crossroads Mall. It was more than roomy in the airplane hangar, appropriated as a barracks. Even with the remainder of Benji’s original crew, plus a couple of wannabe airmen, the giant building was far from crowded.

  The team just stayed relatively close together out of drilled habit. There was also safety in numbers...if the zombies ever became willing to cross the water onto Buck Island, more than one defender within proximity gave the group a better chance at coming out not blue and naked.

  The unit commander, Benjamin “Benji” Collins, and his blonde bombshell girlfriend, Amy Rice, had decided to room in one of the more private offices attached to the overall hangar. It was the choice of the couple, but it undoubtedly would’ve been demanded by the others who didn’t want to deal with the romantic love affair. Neal was just glad to be done with his solitude, beanie weenies, and stale water. Guntersville featured complete safety, company, and even a restaurant!

  Though his stay at the mall was brief, it kept him somewhat active. Keeping watch, going on the occasional scouting mission, and daily survival in a hostile world...it was all more work than one would think. Now, with total peace, the sense of a broader community, and access to almost every modern luxury, people seemed to be getting back into the habit of laziness. Even though it would’ve been easy, the routine of complacency wasn’t one he wanted to restart.

  ☠☠☠

  Cardio and overall exercising were possible, but it just didn’t seem fulfilling to Neal. The rush of taking part in that short combat at the mall was invigorating. That was what he sought. Facing death, fighting by your comrades’ sides, and overcoming the Grim Reaper were as addictive as any first-person shooter.

  Albeit, he had yet to find full body armor, or even a protective suit like Benji dressed as Indiana Jones, Devin outfitted as Ghost Rider, or Amy was wearing the leotard of Elektra. He had to remain on the island with all the other mere mortals. His new friends, though, went on missions into the untamed wastes.

  The only thing keeping him sane was his unwillingness to become just another insignificant Islander. There had to be a reason he was staying prepared. He just knew, someday, somehow, things would fall into place for him to be more than just a survivor. Neal was ready to play his part.

  ☠☠☠

  On one of his last of dozens of daily jogs across the island, he was making his way down Blount Avenue, returning to the airport. As he passed the county jail, he was halted by what sounded like a British accent. “Hey, short stuff!”

>   Hustling in the direction of the runner were two Mandalorians, one accented with green, the other with black. When they came within a few feet, they looked up at him...and kept looking up. “You’re the guy Benji was telling us about, right? The one from the mall?”

  “Since I was the only one that made it, yeah, I guess so.”

  One of the Clone Troopers chortled. “Figured. Seen any beanstalks?”

  Accustomed to the surprise joking of most at his towering height, he returned the sarcasm with a deadpan. “Yeah. Already cut it down.”

  Mahatma gazed at him with a cocked head. “We heard you’ve wanted some armor so you can go on missions.” Neal could only nod.

  “Well, we know what you’re looking for!”

  “Really? Where?”

  Rajesh looked down at his armored, solid white wrist. “I think we got the time. Sergeant Salzman won’t be leaving without us. Let’s go show him!”

  The other phantom made an addition. “The color may be a little different, but the armor’s pretty sexy!” he ended with a laugh.

  They led the extremely tall civilian up the hill to Gunter Avenue. “It’s a good thing these suits are one-size-fits-all, right?” Mattu joked.

  ☠☠☠

  Entering Excelsior Comics and Collectibles, the three walked over to a display featuring the Death Star attacked by Rogue Squadron. To the right of that was an AT-AT harassed by a land speeder. Figurines, comic books, novels, and everything related to the universe, according to George Lucas, transformed this part of the building into a haven for force users. This section of the shop was nothing but Star Wars.

  In front of shelves lined with issues of Bantha Tracks was the reason they came. The untrained eye would see it as almost precisely what both HITs were wearing. Neal was speechless. Both Clone Troopers could only chuckle. Before them stood Boba Fett.

  ☠☠☠

  Paradis came from behind a solid comic book stand. Outfitted as a master bounty hunter, his suit resembled that of both Indians. Resembled, besides the fact that the son of Jango Fett was now a six and a half foot tall ogre.

  Holding the helmet in the crook of his arm, Neal placed it on the counter before doing a spin for the commandos. “What do you think?”

  “Not too shabby.”

  Smiling, he flexed his arms. It nearly scared him when bladed stabbing tools extended from the underside of both forearms. He bit back his surprise and grinned. “Is that all?”

  Mahatma rescinded his commendation with a greater one. “Nice! What else you got?”

  “Well...” he began reaching to his back. “Don’t want to accidentally turn on the jetpack, but...”

  Because the metal had something of a green hue, neither phantom noticed it before now. They both let out a gasp. “Urumi!”

  The man dressed as Boba Fett froze. “What?”

  “Around your waist!”

  “Oh. You mean this belt?” Reaching down, he put his hand around the end of it. “It was just on the armor so I put it back on once I suited up. But I can–“

  “No!”

  His hand let go of it. “Okay. What is it?”

  Both Phantoms were smiling under their helmets. “Your belt is actually a Urumi sword. It’s a Sri Lankan whip blade.” Mahatma pointed to what looked like the end of a snake’s tail. “That’s the pummel. Unwrap the weapon.”

  Freeing the nearly five-foot long instrument from around him, Neal took in the flexible metal device. Intricately acid-etched with reptilian scales, it separated into three different swords about halfway up the body. Each end was the head of a striking cobra with protruding, razor-sharp fangs. This brand could easily battle several enemies at once.

  All three serpentine heads dangled above the floor. He looked at the weapon in his hand, amused. “Jonah’s Three-Headed Snake.” The arm just got its name.

  “Happy now?” the black Tinged Trooper queried mirthfully.

  His fellow HIT laughed even harder. “Of course he is. He’s dressed like us!”

  Goal achieved, all three began heading to the exit. “You got your suit, now we gotta get. People to do, things to see!” Mahatma shot a finger pistol at Neal as they walked out the door.

  Boba Fett’s armor was almost completely a weapon in itself. Neal would be testing it out on the tarmac at the airport until satisfied he was proficient with the tools of a soldier of fortune. Even now, they might be on a mission. But next time Skywalker goes out, you can bet I’ll be on board! The Darkhorse was finally ready to prove himself.

  ☠☠☠

  52

  Lucifer’s Jesuit

  Alan Peacock made sure to look at his wife when intentionally misspeaking. “Mudderfudder deserved it!” Jones just stopped by to inform them of the details of what happened concerning the policeman seeking protection from their man of the cloth. With great joy, he told them of the accidental slip that led to the demise of the intruding racketeer.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, the man of the house questioned. “So what happened to what was left of him?”

  His faithful fellow church member coughed, trying to come up with the words. “You remember the chowder we had at church earlier?” All he could do was chuckle timidly, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Sure was good, wasn’t it?”

  Confused, Alan shot up. “Yeah... But...”

  Jones was only able to offer a shrug. “God’s will.”

  Peacock scoffed. “You’re messing with me. No way Brother Mike would feed us...”

  With pleading eyes, the other looked at him, hoping for a chance to explain. “It was a commandment from the Almighty.”

  Alan exploded with questioning anger. “What? How do you know? And why would–“

  The reporter of the dreadful news put up his hands in a calming gesture. “It was an accident... at first. When the preacher didn’t have any to give him, he lost it. He was trying to kill the preacher with a sword. You saw how close he got!” Jones trailed his eyes down to his attached left forearm.

  He continued with the story. “And he just slipped into the wood chipper. Our holy man wasn’t sure what to do. God told him to not be wasteful. All that meat... Couldn’t go against the Lord’s order.”

  His Christian fellow eased. It started seeming reasonable. “But how do you know all this?”

  Pridefully, Jones raised his chin, speaking of the pastor as if they were buddies. “Mike told me just a while ago. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, it was something he had to do. And when we finally start our battle with those who stand against the kingdom of heaven, God may require us to perform this habitually taboo practice yet again.” He was proud of himself, feeling he was speaking as a mouthpiece for the messenger of Christ.

  ☠☠☠

  After a bit more convincing and prostrating themselves to the Lord in prayer, the Peacock’s finally came to a realization. Contemplating the Scriptures, they understood this action traditionally seen as wicked was now a bidding handed down to them straight from their Holy Savior. What was once seen as evil was now an instruction to be followed with gusto.

  Because the Almighty was using them as His hand, punishing wrongdoers would not only be smiled upon, it was a duty. The Father would take the weapons of Satan and use them to provide for his Faithful. And it sure was tasty!

  ☠☠☠

  Seeking wisdom from the Scriptures, Jones opened his Bible to a page without looking. Deuteronomy 28 “You will then eat your own offspring, the flesh of your sons and daughters the Lord your God has given you, because of the severity of the siege by which your enemies will constrict you.” This was justification enough.

  “Amen!” Came the reply from his brother. There was no way they weren’t being directed by something bigger than themselves.

  Rising from their knees, both men exchanged a handshake. “Thank you, Alan. Would you help me in spreading this message to the other members of the church? We need them to understand completely and be ready to follow Mike...And the Lord.”

&n
bsp; Peacock waved his hand. “No need to ask, brother. I’m with y’all 100%. And I’ll make sure everyone else is, too. When will the next dinner on the grounds be?”

  Smiling, Jones knew Brother Brown would undoubtedly be willing to break bread with their first convert among the congregation. “Well...as long as you promise not to tell anyone...I’m gonna go over to the preacher’s house tomorrow night for some baked ham.” The Wolf just gained another tool.

  ☠☠☠

  Interlude 2

  Mayor Collins picked up his radio around the usual time. “Mo. Gray Fox. You read tonight?” No response.

  One more try. “Mo. Gray Fox. You still alive?” Silence.

  Peculiar. It had been two consecutive nights without a conversation with the Cora. Though Mo would just say he missed talking to Easy, Randy had grown accustomed to hearing from the traveling band. He may have been disappointed, but he wasn’t anxious. Of course, Debbie would be losing her mind after not talking to either of her offspring for so long, but he remained calm.

  Speaking into the handset, he smiled, knowing there would be no reply. “Well, I’ll leave the radio on tonight in case you decide to show up. I got a bunch of stuff to tell you. Gray Fox. Out.”

  ☠☠☠

  53

  Come Together

  Benji, dressed as Indiana Jones, with his jacketed arm over the shoulder of Amy in her Elektra garb, holding the hand of a wide-eyed little girl, walked out the front door of the courthouse. Robert Coe in his Captain America spandex and Devin as Ghost Rider weren’t too far behind. The group brought Yorley Garcia to the center of the after Apocalypse government on Guntersville Island to see what to do with her. As expected, she had no living guardians. Obviously, they weren’t going to let her just wander off or be homeless.