by Bonds, Javan
☠☠☠
Jim searched through the cabinets, hoping frantically to find his prize. Cans. Cans. More canned food. Bingo! There’s some glass jars. Oh well. It may not be the clay jug he was looking for, but he could get a slug while this was in his hand.
Jim pulled the canning jar out of the cabinet and held it in his hand, staring at the sloshing mason jar full of clear liquid. He grinned and in one smooth motion he unscrewed the top, popped the lid, and raised it up to begin guzzling. Coughing and spitting the contents back out, he dropped the jar, spilling the contents onto the floor.
“Tarnation!”
That wasn’t painter’s piss. It must have been some of that white vinegar Shawna made last year. Damn woman needs to start putting some kind of label on her jars to keep them from getting mixed up with the good stuff.
If Jim had any inclination that the meth heads were actually infected and turned into crazed cannibals seeking only to eat raw meat, it wouldn’t have mattered. Now that vinegar, on the other hand, is one of the most mind-numbingly attractive substances known to drive the aforementioned plague victims into a rabid frenzy. This super bait has now been unleashed into the air, it was too late. Nothing would be able to stop the ravenous throng of bloodthirsty infected. If he had immediately knocked over a five-gallon bucket of his homemade bourbon, he wouldn't have killed the scent of the first liquid.
☠☠☠
“Tarnation!” We could hear Jim make a fuss in the house. Devin and I were about to go investigate when he walked out onto the porch. “It’s all right fellas. Ain’t no need to get all worked up. I was looking for some of my corn liquor and I accidentally got a hold of a jar of Shawna’s vinegar. Then I went and spilt it all over the darn place. But I wiped it up.”
I looked at him, dumbfounded. “Vinegar?” He nodded as he walked in our direction.
I nearly had to sit down. How could anyone not know what would happen next? “Do you know what you’ve just done?”
He put his hands on his hips. “I told you I wiped it up! Besides, at least it smelled clean in there. I even spread it around a little bit on the floor.”
Before he finished speaking, distant barks and howls could be heard on the wind. Frantic yipping, akin to the excited calls of coyotes came from seemingly every direction. Halfway between the house and the plane, I turned back to my winged vehicle and gestured for the others to follow. “We gotta move. Now!” Things were about to start getting blue.
☠☠☠
I could already see blunatics racing in our direction down the dusty county road. The beasts had obviously been starving over the past month. There were only so many wild animals in the area. Of course, I can only picture the horrific scene of a herd of cows being ambushed and subsequently slaughtered in the field.
A bovine could weigh nearly a ton more than one of the former humans, but just a handful of humanoids with opposable thumbs and the ability to think and plan could overtake a great number of cattle in just a few minutes.
Imagine a group of dozens of cows lining up in a circle to form a barrier around their young. Even taking into account some of them might have horns, they would stand no chance versus hordes of rabid apes. They would be taken down one by one.
The last few defiant cows would be standing together, bloodied scratches and bite marks over their entire bodies. They were completely unable to protect their defenseless offspring. They might have stomped or driven a few of the blue monsters to the ground, but they would eventually fall.
The plague carriers would rip the animals into shreds, probably starting with some skirt steak, or rump roast. Steaming, raw meat would be pulled in strings as the four-legged animals screamed in pain and terror. Leaving beef bones, licked clean and left in the field for the insects and scavengers.
The family boarded the plane followed by the two of us. I tried the ignition and received a quick spin of the propeller and some sputtering. Are you fucking serious? Of course this would happen now. Devin jumped out to spin the propeller by hand and gave the engine a once over. We were grounded. Why, God?
I leaned out my door and took a shot at the coming enemy while my copilot fiddled with the motor. Jim came out the door behind me, pumping rounds of double ought buckshot into the closest undead. I could tell they weren’t expecting to find humans. It would have been a gift from the god of blue, only these humans had boom makers that threw rocks at a ridiculously high speed.
The animals were falling one after the other, but the overwhelming number of insane flesh eaters meant they were slowly gaining ground. The fact they lost a comrade for every yard of ground gained meant absolutely nothing to an enemy driven by insatiable hunger. Nothing stood between the peevies and their prize.
I emptied mag after mag while Jim kept feeding shells into the tube of his scattergun. Without looking back I shouted at him. “Jim!” He reached up for the pistol in my outstretched hand. He would do whatever it took to save his loved ones.
He filled his last tube with shotgun shells as he let one round from his shotgun go when the muzzle pressed against the bloated stomach of one of the azurite transgressors. The explosion was somewhat muted as the round pulverized blue flesh. The animal was eviscerated by the close quarters onslaught. Blood, jagged shards of bone, liquefied guts, black diarrhea, and every other bodily fluid rocketed out of the back of the creature. The cannibal was immediately cut in two when the lead balls rocketed out towards the horizon, managing to sever the spine completely. Its top half was only attached to the legs by skin and had hit the ground beside the feet. The animal instantly died when everything above the stomach dropped out of the massive wound.
Jim was now using the shotgun as a club, holding the barrel and bashing the butt into oncoming peevies. The smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils as I noticed smoke coming from Jims hands where he was gripping the glowing barrel. He continued to fight without flinching knowing his and his loved ones lives were at stake. Skulls were cracked, jaws shattered, and shoulders crushed as he beat his enemy back. He continued to swing as he launched the occasional pistol round at the horde. A warrior he was, but resistance is always futile.
The revenants were in reach, outstretched arms grasping in the classic zombie combat and chase pose. He put everything he had into a losing battle. At least, he gave his family a chance. “Shawna, hold on to my secret recipe!” I knew he was talking about his recipe for making booze. Really? That’s going to be your final words?
His wife cried out, knowing this was the finale.
Devin had been sending his own rounds over the nose of the plane. He apparently did something to the engine and slammed the cover down. “Give it a go!” He gave the propeller a spin before I turned it over again. It miraculously began working.
I didn’t want to close the door, but I knew even if I told him to get in, Jim would ignore me. I shut the door just as he pressed his back against the side of the plane. As we started to move, he put the pistol in his mouth. I’m not going to detail what happened next. Just know that the peevies briefly forgot about us and focused on the fresh meat.
Shawna and the boy in the back wailed, knowing there was nothing they could do. I yelled at the window and the rabid cannibals surging past. I knew they couldn’t hear me and they wouldn’t take it as me doing anything more than making noise, but I spoke with pure hatred. “I. Will. Kill. Every. Fucking. One. Of. You!”
The villainous monsters massed on the body of The Sacrifice. They greedily ripped shreds of bloodied muscle from bone. Our new friend had just given his life to save every soul in this plane. Jim Tidwell was a hero. We now had two more survivors to add to our community.
I spoke without turning my head. “Did that really have to happen?”
Devin responded solemnly. “I don’t have a SAY.”
☠☠☠
Interlude 1
My radio buzzed at the expected time. “Mo. Gray Fox here. You read?”
“Ten-four, good buddy.” I could tell my dad h
ad a question on his lips. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
It was almost as if a weight lifted every time he dropped into a casual tone. “You remember I told you the other night that a child went missing? Well, she’s still missing, for nearly a week now. And still no sign.”
“Did she just wander off? How did she get off the island unnoticed?”
“She didn’t.” He trusted his guards impeccably to keep a watch out. You know, since two of the really observant bastards got their throats slit by The Betrayer, in my third journal.
All of this sounded perplexing. “So, somebody on the island has kidnapped a kid?” That sounded okay when I said it, but now that it’s on paper, it just looks weird. A kidnapper should nap kids, “kidnapper” is kind of self-explanatory.
He had an edge to his voice. “I think so. There’ve been people searching with nothing found so far. We’ve started an official investigation. But I am concerned Mo. The parents of the missing child aren’t suspects but they are pretty calm about their child being missing.”
“Wait. Do you think they did something to their own child?” That would be some sick fuckers.
“No I don’t. There’s something else happening. I think those of us that have survived the apocalypse have grown accustomed to loss and death."
That’s not good either. Too bad The Oracle and I are not there. Our Sherlock Holmes skills would have the mystery solved in just a few chapters. Wait, am I Sherlock, or is he? Well, he does call me Watson sometimes.
My father continued. “And this preacher might be bad news. Martin Williamson is a lawyer, and he said he remembered hearing this guy’s name concerning bad checks and other legal issues down in Birmingham. It’s a common name, so maybe he heard about somebody else, but we should probably ask him for clarification.”
He could’ve been a bank robber, but that is the last crime that would matter nowadays. Well, he’d still be a criminal nonetheless, and I don’t think I’d trust him with much. If he were a bank robber, he probably wouldn’t have any money from his heists. What good would it be?
I was jumping to conclusions. “So this preacher is a thief and a child molester?”
He chuckled. “That’s a little hasty. As I said, he might not even be the guy Martin heard about. And there’s no reason to suspect he had anything to do with the kidnapping. Why do you think that?”
Oh, because it just seems like something the fucked-up bastard that is The Screenwriter would put into play.
“No reason.”
My brother came onto the deck to join in the conversation. “So has Benji made any flyovers?”
My father answered. “Yeah. He’s actually picked up a few survivors. Unless they’re hiding underground, there don’t seem to be a lot of zombies left.”
Does that mean they’re dying off? Maybe they’re migrating north. It would be great if we could one day soon repopulate areas besides just islands. Maybe I could just move somewhere far away. The revenants are apparently only following me.
“How are things on that end?” He added.
Oh, just peachy! I’ve been almost killed more than once, and I’ve eaten nothing but fish since I left the island. God, I miss TEOTWAWKI restaurant. Easy cut in before I could start complaining.
“Everything’s okay here. We’ve been running into fewer and fewer peevies the further we go.” Says the man who doesn’t have to go into nearly every fucking dam on the river! He made sure to tack on, “Well, at least on the trips Mo doesn’t go on.”
The other end of the radio signaled the conversation was drawing to a close. “Well, your mama got Ruby Sparks on DVD. I guess we’re about to go watch it.”
Thanks, Daddy, just brush off your only children, the ones that you're almost guaranteed never to see again. For a stupid romantic comedy. And Ruby Sparks? At least put on Tin Cup!
Mr. “Easy” Clean spoke before I could, “Tell Mama I love her!” You know, I might’ve been about to say the same thing. Now if I say anything, I'll just look like I'm sucking up after my brother.
“Will do. Gray Fox over and out.”
☠☠☠
11
Mo Journal Entry 3
BEFORE THE GRUELING task of passing through the dam in whatever city we were in, the crew noticed a Piggly Wiggly right off the riverbank that didn’t appear to be ransacked. I had absolutely no idea where we were. Well, I knew we hadn't crossed the state border from Alabama into Mississippi. I’m aware I could've just looked at some of the damn road signs to at least get a general location and direction, but that’d require a minuscule amount of observance. I’m going to stumble around like a clueless moron before I do anything like take the time to pay attention to my surroundings.
We decided this would be as good a place as any to pick up some luxury food items. Some would call our liberation of consumer goods “thievery”, but I choose to think of our raids as “recapturing materials” that would otherwise go to waste. My justification for partaking in said material relocation would be easily knocked down if it were really to come into question. Let's say the owners of this particular grocery store happen to find me years down the road. All of the sudden now, after surviving the zombie apocalypse, Mr. and Mrs. gas station owner demand payment in the form of paper currency, that isn’t worth anything more than toilet paper; I’ll be sure to scrounge up whatever cash I still have.
It was expected, so the plan was set to go scavenge the grocery store. Before the call to draw straws, Smokes was nearly jumping up and down and shouting, “Pick me, pick me!”
I gave him the thumbs up and decided I would go. If the Oracle was excited about going into an abandoned building, I figured no main protagonists would meet their demise today. Not to mention, I was hoping that appearing to show courage and take initiative might get me some leeway the next time I drew a short straw to go open a fucking dam.
Apparently, three are required for these shopping sprees. My brother chimed in, “I’m going too.” I almost shed a tear at the thought Easy wanted to protect me. He continued with the reason I should have been expecting. “I gotta see if they have any protein bars in there, all we have are fiber bars.” He cocked a preposterous eyebrow at all the female shipmates.
My baldheaded brother then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Even though you’re going, I’m okay with it. But only because he’s going” he gestured to The Oracle. Easy must’ve been assuming that because Smokes was hungry, this would be a cakewalk. Boy, was he dead wrong.
I’ve never understood why ladies always have a stockpile of those damn fiber bars. Do they have that much of a problem dropping the kids off at the pool? I don’t think I have IBS or anything, but I can eat a handful of raisins on the main deck and will barely be able to sprint down to the toilet without shitting my pants! The female peevies sure as hell don’t have a problem letting loose with their brown geysers, maybe human flesh loosens up some of their plumbing. Not that I would encourage the fairer sex to become cannibals, just saying maybe there’s something to a raw meat diet.
☠☠☠
Standing in a nearly empty parking lot I was wondering why The Oracle never wore armor. Here I was in my Cylon armor alongside testosterone driven Ironman with his comically monstrous Thunder Hammer over his back. I guess he is just too massive to wear pretty much any of Gene’s superhero costumes and the Juggernaut suit is pretty much pointless with no protection for the arms.
The Oracle urged us into a seemingly unmolested building. I think my brother used one finger to separate the sliding doors. “Mon’ mufuckas! Dey gots to be Wata-melon Kool-Aid in da Pig!”
As we entered I thankfully only detected a faint musty smell coming from the rear of the building. This was where the fresh meat would have been located before the collapse of society. It had been so long since May Day, there would be no rotten meat to offend our nostrils. Everything had since been consumed by either bugs or bacteria, who have themselves all moved on. Any dogs or coyotes woul
d have thought they had gone to dog heaven if they had found this place. The doors had remained sealed at least from large animals until we entered. Perhaps peevies or something even more evil and sinister to this world, like cats, hadn't been the ones to feast on this bounty. It was only a wish that man’s best friend had gotten some small benefit from our downfall. Still, I doubted all dogs went to heaven when the world ended. Those that did survive the first days had to eke out an existence rife with suffering.
We made our way back to the snack aisle where we would find products like Kool-Aid and potato chips. I know we would need to grab non-perishables. But after forgetting what nearly everything tastes like besides fish just drives one to find really sugary and really salty foods.
I don’t remember him pushing it before now, but The Oracle began dumping every single shelf of Kool-Aid packs into a buggy. “Sharkleberry? That doesn’t exist! They quit making that stuff in the 90s!” I was seriously upset I had missed the re-release of the best flavor of Kool-Aid ever.
Now that I think about it, maybe there was no re-release. Smokes could've simply just wished it into being as we came into the store. Maybe he should try that with some flavors of Doritos. I can’t believe there’s no Tacos at Midnight flavor yet!
After a few hundred pounds of the mix had been added to our cart, The Oracle eyed the next product down the line: a box of Tabasco Cheez-Its. He looked to the point of either passing out or bursting into tears. Immediately, he began ripping the bag open and downing handfuls. It was impossible to understand his elated babbling around the mouthfuls of yellowish orange oven-baked snack crackers. Crumbs that weren't sticking to his nose, lips, and chin spilled down the front of his shirt. Eventually they began splattering to the floor.
