Dead Island Ravenous

by Allen Gamboa

  “Ammo? Extra troops? Night vision gear?” Hale asked, already knowing the answer.

  “None to spare brother. We're hurting as it is.”

  “Well, what the fuck can you spare?” Hale frowned at his former battle buddy.

  “Good thoughts.” Hansen chuckled. “Got plenty of those.”

  “Yeah, well, take your good thoughts in one hand and shit in the other, guess which one fills up first.” Hale pulled a map out of his tac vest and unrolled it on the hood of their Humvee. “Can you at least give us an idea on what we're going to encounter on the road?”

  “Sure.” Hansen slid back his tactical helmet and glanced down at the map. “The roads are clear for about twenty miles. You’ll get deaders but not a lot. After that it’s like the wild west. Gangs, meat sacks and crazies. You name it.” He placed a gloved thumb on a red line on the map. “216 will be jammed up with vehicles. Looks like the freaking highway of death. Airstrikes mowed down a whole fucking highway full of infected civilians. Real nasty. The roads are pretty messed up. The engineers haven’t gotten to clearing them all yet. That fucking earthquake didn’t help any.” He frowned and scratched his beard. “Bad, bad juju. I guess no one wants to really go near it that highway. There’s a path through, just a real narrow path. The road is for shit. We came in from the north and avoided it all, you’re going to have to plow right through it. Rumor has it there’s a fucking Bigfoot stalking that area.” Hansen smiled as he slapped Hale on the back of his body armor.

  “That’s just fucking spectacular.” Vannelli groaned.

  “Shit,” Hale chuckled. “With the dead running around I believe anything is possible.”

  “Ah, you guys are bad asses. You can handle a Bigfoot.” Hansen laughed as Hale grabbed up the map. “I don’t even think we will be stationed here much longer. Things have gone to shit in the area and word has it that we might be redeployed back to the North. Hell, I don’t even know if we are winning this fucked up war. Anyway, with those cheery words we’ll move the Stryker’s so you guys can pass.”

  “Can I offer some advice on your tactics here?” Uribe asked as he watched Fin and Banjo walk back to their Humvee.

  “Lieutenant Ribe, if I want advice on opening a dick sucking shack I’ll ask you, till then keep your advice to yourself…sir.”

  “Sergeant?” The officer stepped back, shocked at Hansen’s outright disrespect. Seeing the giant soldier standing there and just grinning at him, Uribe quickly looked over at Hale for support.

  “He’s not under your command L-T. We just basically have a thin mutual agreement with the military.” The sergeant reminded him. Hansen gave Uribe his best shit eating grin and nodded.

  “Fuck!” Uribe cursed and stalked off.

  “Well, shit, Hale. Seems you have your work cut out for you.” He extended a bear paw sized hand. “Good seeing you. You might want to give your LT a hug so he doesn’t feel sad.”

  “Damn Deke, you always gotta be a dick?” Hale shouted above the rumble of the Stryker vehicles engines.

  “If not me then it would be somebody else.” Hansen winked. “Good luck with whatever you guys are out doing. Try not to get eaten or butt fucked out there.”

  “I think the buttfucking’s already started.” Hale waved to Hansen as he walked back to their SUV.

  “You cut a guy's head off?” Cross asked Hale as she made for the driver’s side of the Yukon.

  “That’s righteous Sarge.” Cherry Berry said with a tinge of awe in his voice as he climbed into the SUV.

  “Nothing righteous about it.” Hale said watching the other soldiers clear the roadway. “It was just one very bad day.”

  CHAPTER 21: DADDY NEEDS A DRINK

  Aboard the Gulfstream

  “We’re running low on fuel General.” Kantner shouted to the rear of the private jet. Sergeant Cho climbed out of her seat and hurried through the open cockpit door. The Ranger dropped down into the empty co-pilot's seat and glanced at the plane’s fuel gauge. “Not lying there boss.”

  “I know Kantner, Command gave me the coordinates to an airstrip close by.We should be near.”

  “Well, I checked the directions on my GPS and it’s going to be close. Real freaking close. It didn’t help that we had to turn around and head back the way we came.”

  “I know. Command had to reroute us to a different air strip. Everything is a cluster fuck right now. No one knows what the heck they’re doing.” She ran a hand through her dark hair and said in an exasperated tone. “I guess the designated airfield was out of service, besides, I thought you said we had enough fuel?” Cho asked a little annoyed.

  “So did I.” Kanter shrugged. “I never was good at math.” He chuckled.

  “Shit, really?” The Ranger looked back at Franco, who was getting a combat nap near the metal cases on the floor. “How long have you been flying?”

  “Long enough. And I was just kidding about the math.” Kantner sniffed, offended by the soldier’s question. The massive hangover did nothing to help his clouded brain. “I have a real damn good feel for these things. I’m what you call a natural.”

  “A natural.” Cho leaned back and closed her eyes. The remaining members of the sergeant’s unit had died so they had to place the possible fate of the human race in a drunken pilot’s hands. Just fucking great. “Kantner you know what you’re carrying is very important. I mean world changing important. Guessing and hoping would be a real bad thing now.”

  “Guessing? I’m a damn good pilot Admiral. Never ran out of fuel or crashed yet. Trust me, I’m a professional. I think we may have taken some hits to the fuel tank when those asshats were shooting at us. Might have us a damn leak.”

  “Of course, just get us there.” Cho glanced out the cockpit windows. The soldier pulled her tactical knife out of her belt and jammed it into the co-pilot’s arm rest. “We don’t make it to the airstrip, crashing will be the least of your problems. And its Sergeant!”

  “I got this.” He looked over at the knife then the Ranger. “Don’t need your bad vibes screwing with my flow. Just go back with your big ass knife and relax….. Sergeant.”

  “Right.” Cho stood up and pulled the blade from the armrest. “Just get us there. Maybe you can make this nonstop party you call a life worth something.”

  “Nonstop party?” Kantner frowned and turned to watch the soldier walk back into the rear of the jet. “Nonstop party? Damn, sergeant, I like that.” Empowered with a new personal motto, the pilot turned back to face the plane’s instrument panel. “Come on baby,” he whispered as he flicked the fuel gauge with his finger. “Get us to that airstrip. Daddy needs a drink!”

  CHAPTER 22: NOTHING PERSONAL

  “That’s a pretty fucked up bit o’ shite you ran into.” The wiry, Irish mercenary Dolan said as he watched Diego climb out of the bullet riddled SUV. “Looks like you got twisted up pretty good at that airbase.”

  “Should have seen the other guy's, guy.” Martone unloaded his weapons from the newly bullet ventilated vehicle. “Makes me glad I invested in American flags. Government is going to have to buy a whole shitload after that scrap up.” Dolan said with a big shit eating grin.

  “I don’t need any shit from you Dolan.” Diego dropped his weapons bag down at the other mercenary’s feet. “You get the briefing from Senor Black?”

  “Yes.” Dolan watched the remaining survivors of Diego’s team unass the battle-damaged SUVs. “We’re ready to go.” He jerked a thumb back at the four black Ford Expeditions and the nine heavily armed men that were dressed like a SWAT team standing idly next to them.

  “You?”

  “Yeah, grab my gear and let’s get a move on.” The big Mexican said, disdain for the Irish mercenary thick in his voice. Diego had always hated the other man, really for no other reason than he was just a straight up disrespectful asshole. The Irishman, in turn, felt the same way about him. Dolan feigned a yawn and slowly looked down at the bag then back up at Diego.

  “Grab my bag.�
� The mercenary leader ordered.

  “Yeah, well…” Dolan reached into his dark wind breaker and drew out a nickel plated .45 that he quickly pointed at the Mexican’s face. “About that….”

  “What the fuck are ya doing?” Diego growled angrily. “Black will have your ass for this!”

  “It’s on his orders.” Dolan said calmly and gave him a quick shrug. “You failed one too many times.”

  “Ah, ya fucking mick!” The Mexican glanced at Martone and Digger, both mercenaries stood frozen in place. Diego could feel the cold sweat start to drip down his back. The mercenary leader knew his time was up. “Black? That evil fuck. He can go to hell!”

  “Ye, but apparently, you first. Sorry Diego. Nothing personal.” Dolan smiled and turned the handgun sideways for a brief second before righting it. “Well, maybe a lil personal Diego.”

  “Wait…” The .45 roared one time as the round smashed into the center of Diego’s face obliterating the back of his skull. The mercenaries lifeless body crumpled hard to the ground.

  “Shit.” Digger mumbled wide eyed.

  “A little lesson to all of ya, don’t fuck up.” Dolan said to the other mercenaries. “Martone, grab that bag, we have a plane to catch.”

  “Right, guy.” Martone said pointedly as he knelt down next to Diego’s corpse and began going through his pockets. “Sorry guy,” Martone said as he pulled a Rolex from the dead man’s wrist. “Like Dolan said, ‘nothing personal’.”

  CHAPTER 23: HIS TONGUE WAS ON POINT

  On the Road

  “He couldn’t shoot worth a damn but his tongue was sure on point.” Cross smirked as she guided the SUV slowly around a maze of abandoned and battle damaged cars that crowded the remains of the war torn and earthquake ravaged highway. Air Force A-10 fighter jets had strafed the packed roadway with high explosive and armor piercing rounds as scores of infected civilians broke through the National Guard roadblocks and tried to reach the safety of FEMA controlled security camps. The Government had felt the protection of the uninfected was more important than sorting through the mass of fleeing humanity. The highway massacres along with the firebombing of several cities had caused a major rift in the population's trust of their government. This, unintentionally caused the virus to spread even faster and farther than before.

  “You ever thought about writing romance novels Cross?” Hale asked as he watched the road around them. “Bet you’d be good at it.” Sex talk had always made the big sergeant uncomfortable. Hale firmly believed folks really didn’t need to know your bedroom stuff, Cross was just the opposite.

  “Ain’t no romance involved Sarge, just straight sex.”

  “Watch out Cross!” Hale shouted as he grabbed the SUVs window frame for security.

  The redhead deftly swerved the SUV around a good-sized pot hole in the road. Hale was glad that Cross had missed the damaged road but he was even more thankful for the interruption in conversation.

  “Easy big guy,” She told the sergeant. “I got it, I got it.” Looking back in the rearview mirror Cross could see the hummer quickly weave out of the path of the deep hole in the highway.

  “You going to finish your story?” Berry asked from the back seat. “You know I lost my virginity to a warm bagel.” The boyish contractor offered up, totally unsolicited. The SUV suddenly became silent.

  “Shut up Cherry Berry.” Vannelli said trying to grab a combat nap. “Just do your job and keep a look out for bad guys. No one wants to hear about you molesting bread.”

  “Yeah, bagel fucker.” Speedy joined in.

  “Bagel fucker?” Berry frowned. “I thought we were sharing sex stories.”

  “Yeah, well that's just gross.” Speedy held up a gloved finger to the other contractor.

  “Callate!”

  “But…” Berry whined.

  “Quiet bro,” Duley looked up from his comic book. “I can’t concentrate with all your yapping. Jus’ sit back an’ watch the road. Play slug bug or hell I think there's even an MRE back here you can violate.”

  “Hey…”

  “Bagel fucker.” Vannelli popped open a water bottle. “Now, that’s a better nickname than Cherry Berry.”

  “No..no..no!” Berry pleaded.

  “You guys okay up there?” Doc’s voice crackled over the SUVs radio. The medic had climbed down from the cupola into the passenger's seat while Uribe grabbed some shut eye in the back of the Humvee. “Cross telling naughty stories again?”

  “Copy that.” Hale said into the radio mic. “Maybe you should be riding shotgun over here.”

  “No thanks. You forget I was over in Mali with her. I think I can recite her stories even better than she can.”

  “That’s too bad.” Hale said sarcastically as he tried in vain to dodge Cross’s right fist as it slammed into his shoulder. “How’s the L-tee?”

  “Sleeping like a baby.” Doc’s voice was tinny over the radio’s speaker.

  “Good. We should be getting close to the Nitrex plant.” The sergeant glanced at his watch. “It’ll be dark soon. Wish we would have gotten an earlier start.”

  “Yeah, these roads are pretty fucked up. Looks like they ran some serious shit through here.”

  “At the..” The SUV rocked on the uneven road interrupting the sergeant’s story. Hale clicked back on the mic. “..at the start of all this you had carloads of infected trying to get into the safe zones. The military’s decision was to stop them any way necessary. A lotta hard calls were made in the beginning.”

  “Nice just to be a lil cog in the whole situation Sarge. Point and shoot. Point and shoot.” Doc chuckled over the speaker. “Let someone else make the hard calls. Sad to say this looks like that damn highway of death back in Desert Storm.”

  “Yep.” Hale could see packs of wild dogs moving throughout the carnage. “I would have hated to be in on this. Just a bad fucking day for everyone involved.”

  “I heard they had one of those Destroyers, the McCain I believe, pound the shit out of Boston.” Hale could hear Doc clearing his throat on the other end of the mic. “Guess they leveled it pretty good.”

  “I hadn't heard that.”

  “Yeah, my brother was living there last time I talked to him. Pretty sure he got out.” The tone in the medic’s voice betrayed his true feelings.

  “He probably high tailed it out of there and is in a safe zone Doc. Don’t sweat it. I’m sure he’s okay.”

  “Uh huh. Heard they nuked Miami too.”

  “I heard that.” Hale said quietly into the mic. “Some fucked up call on the President’s part. They had those cargo ships pouring in with infected refugees. Guess they thought that would work.”

  “Fucking nuke our own soil. What the hell Sarge?”

  “I can’t speak to that Doc. I mean things are pretty fucked up. That shit is way above my pay grade.”

  “Well, maybe this is a sign?”

  “A sign?” Hale frowned. “What do you mean Doc?”

  “The world was starting to get pretty fucking messed up right before the dead started to come back. Maybe this is a reboot?”

  “A reboot?” The sergeant ran a hand across his scarred face. He’d lost his wife and child to this whatever it was. If it was truly a reboot he figured he’d be the one gone not his family. “Only been one reboot Doc and it was a flood.”

  “Well, see here. Flood is kinda boring.” Doc’s tone was now serious. “This, this here is way more fun.” And there it was, Hale thought, that dark side of Doc, the part of him that had followed the medic after he’d witnessed the massacre of Afghan school children by ISIS soldiers. Doc Kegy functioned better at the end of the world than he ever would anywhere else.

  “Doc….” Suddenly the front end of the SUV dropped heavily into a hole in the road.

  CHAPTER 24: IT'S CAUSE I'M BLACK, RIGHT?

  Baker Airfield

  “Fuck!” Jefferson spat as he crawled out from among the debris of the destroyed guard tower. Every bone in his body ached as he r
olled over onto his side and pushed the remains of a window frame off of him. Wiping his face, he blinked a few times then quickly sat up. Bits of broken glass jingled to the ground as the Marine moved to a knee. “Fuck me.”

  “You’re…not…my…type.” Washington groaned as he crawled out of a jumble of twisted sheet metal. The soldier pulled himself over next to Jefferson and collapsed face first on the ground. “You okay?” He mumbled.

  “I don’t know.” The corporal quickly glanced around, remembering they had just been under attack. The explosion had scrambled his brain for a minute. “You alright Washington?” The Marine asked as he started to assess their situation.

  Washington rolled over onto his back and checked his junk to make sure he was intact. Happily finding his manhood was still there he gave Jefferson a thumbs up. “Never been better. What’s the damn SitRep?”

  “Fucked and more fucked.” Jefferson noticed it was starting to get dark and that had caused the flames from burning buildings and vehicles to really stand out. The Marine could see several bodies littered throughout the air strip and around the remains of the buildings. The mercenaries and wandering undead appeared to be long gone. The thought of being unconscious for any length of time around the flesh eaters gave him the chills. Thank God he’d been buried under the collapse of the tower. Stiffly, Jefferson stood up and stretched his battered body.

  “What do you see?” Washington asked weakly as he still lay on his back.

  “Base is wasted.” Jefferson shook his head. “No meat bags hanging around but it also looks like we are the only ones left. Just you and me.”

  “Figures.” Washington groaned and slowly sat up. The Army Specialist held a hand out to the Marine, who grabbed it, and pulled him to his feet.

  “You're heavier than you look Washington.” He patted him on the shoulder as he helped steady him on his feet.

  “It’s all dick weight.” Washington smiled as he nervously glanced around.