by Joe McKinney
I left her like that, but I did adjust the coconut halves over her boobs. I pressed them up so she had some cleavage and then tightened the strap so it would stay. It was kinda hot, but it would’ve been hotter if she weren’t so gray.
And dead.
Her good eye kept looking at me. Her dry sandpaper-looking (sandpaper-sounding, for that matter) tongue slid between her lips. Then she chewed on it. Not hard. She treated her tongue more like a pacifier. I took some of my water in a cupped palm leaf and tilted her head back. She snapped at me, but when she was staring straight up at the sky, she stopped, zoning out. I wet her lips, and some of the water ran down her chin. I poured a bit in, then a splash more. She didn’t really drink it, but it filled her mouth, and some ran down her cheeks and neck. The rest sort of gurgled down her throat. Reminded me of when you pull a stopper out of a sink of water and the stuff swirls around.
Wonder if I will have to hang her upside down later and get the water out. She didn’t seem to mind being upside down. She recovered like a champ, back on her feet in no time and with no ill effects.
The rain arrived later, and I tugged the new cover over my shelter. I had been busy cutting up the luggage I found and using it to construct the roof. Large patches of the fabric went into the construction, as did every stray palm leaf and thin branch I could locate. Water hit it and ran down the side. I angled it over the little rock shelter so the water would run off and get caught up in broad leaves and deposited in the big plastic overnight bag with its hard shell. It was a gaudy red, bright as blood, but it was a great addition. I swirled the water around the bottom, having cut out the liner. I had washed the container in the ocean and rubbed it down with sand. The water came faster, so I rinsed it out a few times. I wouldn’t have to trek to the stream tomorrow.
She looked miserable as water flattened her hair to her head. I stood her up and put her one shoe on. It was the only pump I had been able to locate. It made her stumble, but when I moved into the shelter, she walked around looking for me. I liked to think that she missed me, but I knew that what she really missed was the chance to chow on one of my appendages.
She stumbled in the rain like she was doing a little dance as she went around and around the tree. I had to go out and lead her the other way around a couple of times, because she got wrapped up.
Dancing in the rain for me. What a sweetie.
Thunder came later and rumbled across the sky. I pushed myself deeper into the enclosure and curled up with some of the clothes I had dried out. One piece was a floral-print dress that looked big enough to fit two women. I had some string but really no idea how to do an alteration. I had been thinking about how cute she would look in it.
Besides, I kind of like playing dress-up with her. Probably seems weird, but after being on this stupid rock for two weeks, just about anything was entertaining.
Lightning struck the other side of the island, and the ground shook a second later as thunder followed. I heard a noise after that. When I looked, she was freaking out. Another burst of lightning stabbed down, and the air smelled funny. Clean, but with a sharp edge to it.
She tried to pull away from the tree and howled at the blast. I couldn’t leave her like that, but the shelter was too small. I didn’t have anything to tie her to. She would just have to deal with it.
She started hooting and hollering like an animal stuck in a trap. She thrashed against the rope. I knew it wouldn’t hold if she got much more than those slow-motion lumbering steps going. She had broken away from my poor attempts to bind her a few too many times.
I untied the rope from the tree, and she seemed to calm down a bit. I wrapped it around her body so her arms were secure. Another lightning strike and she backed into me, almost knocking me down.
I tugged her close and moved to the little shelter. I took out a pair of socks that were bright green and tied them together, then added another pair to make the thing longer and carefully put it over her mouth so it was completely covered. A sock gag. A normal person would go nuts. Although, I read somewhere that some people like it. Probably married men.
There was no way for her to bite me. I dragged her to the ground, put one arm around her and tugged her body back against mine. She calmed down considerably after that. When the lightning struck again, she bucked against me, but I held her close.
It was nice to lie with a soft woman for a change. The lightning kept striking for a few more minutes and then, just like that, it was gone. She lay still for a while, and it was eerie to hold her, since she didn’t breathe. She was still cold and moved around every once in a while. I sat up and leaned on my elbow to see what she was doing. She had her mouth pressed against the ground. I think she was trying to push the gag off.
She quieted down, and I considered tying her to the tree again. But I hated the idea of having to get up and bring her back in if the storm returned. I gripped her tighter under the coconut halves and sighed contentedly. I was just starting to drift off when I thought I felt something suspiciously like a heartbeat. Then realized it was just another light blast of thunder. Ah, wishful thinking.
Day 16
My Girlfriend Hates my Friends
The rain stopped by the time I woke up. She kept thrashing around in the night like I was hurting her or something. Just by making her snuggle up to me … jeez. Does she even realize how much I do for her? I mean, I clean her, and let me tell you, that is no easy task. No one should have to clean the stuff I have cleaned from the places I have cleaned.
I keep her safe by not letting her stay in the sea. Like a few weeks ago, when I just happened to see her in the water and pulled her out by her legs. Then getting all of that rotten meat out of her stomach, that one almost sent me over the edge.
I have done my best to keep her alive. I mean, alive-ish? Wait … she is dead … no, undead … so that means I have done my best to keep her dead-alive. Now my head hurts. I hate logic.
She’s a zombie, for Christ’s sake. Everyone knows that when you see a zombie, you have free rein to kill it. But I don’t give in to that urge. In fact, I’ve done everything I can to keep her from getting hurt. But still she had to kick and snarl and move around all night. It was exhausting. After an hour of that, I took her back to the tree and tied her to it.
The thunder and lightning came back and scared her again, so I had to drag her ass back to the camp and hold her down. Finally, I took some clothes and wrapped her as tight as I could so she couldn’t even roll over.
In the morning, the storm was gone. Boy, was I happy about that. I had about a gallon of water, which I drank and washed off in. She watched me take my clothes off and bathe. I couldn’t help but waggle my junk at her. “Yeah, you can’t have this, can you?”
She didn’t answer.
Tired after all that up and down last night. Lucky for me, I don’t exactly have a schedule to stick to and can nap whenever I want. If I can get over the heat, that is. I was thinking about lying in the pool of water with my head on the sandy shore like a pillow. That would be a lot more comfortable than the damn humidity.
Later, I unwrapped her and took her for a walk. I have devised a way to tie her wrist so that I can pull her along. I don’t mean to treat her like a dog, but she does need the exercise, and it’s not like I put a leash around her neck or anything.
The sun was high, and I didn’t have my ball cap handy. I think I dropped it somewhere while chasing her across the island. So I flipped the turtle shell and gave it a once-over. It was lighter than it looked. I had rubbed sand in it to break away the dried meat, then washed it again before laying it by the fire to dry. I put it on my head. She took one look at me and recoiled like I was a monster. I growled at her, standing up with my hands raised. She snarled back.
I’m sure we made a cute couple.
We strolled along the beach, and I took the opportunity to splash water at her as I walked. I had my pant legs pulled up to my knees and walked in the shallow water. She followed but grumbled the wh
ole time. Well, she doesn’t so much grumble as just make these odd noises. I think she is somehow getting air sucked into her stomach while she walks, and then it gets expelled. Which sounds like she is growling and burping at the same time. It may not be coming from her mouth, though, and I don’t want to think about that. Sometimes it sounds like she is farting. Ewwwww to farting zombies.
I have been worried about her rotting, since she is undead and all, so I took the opportunity to take her coconut top and grass skirt off again today and inspect her. I ran my hands over her body and pushed and poked stuff to make sure nothing was going bad. I bet it sounds weird, but if she starts to rot, what am I going to do? I don’t have any perfume I can splash on her. I don’t want a rotting zombie chick around.
We had wandered a bit farther when I heard noises in the distance. I stopped, and she walked into me. She tried to get her hands around my neck. Her mouth hit my neck like a kiss, and it felt like she was nuzzling against me. I took her arm and held her back while I listened to what sounded like voices.
Oh my God! I wanted to run and yell for help at the top of my lungs. After two weeks on this heap, I was going to be rescued at last. But what to do about my girl? No one would understand, and they might try to hurt her. I didn’t have a lot of rope with me; most of it was tied to the tree, so I would have to make do. I dragged her to a fallen branch and tied her wrist to it. The log it was attached to was huge. There was no way she could drag it with her.
I checked the binding again and decided it would have to do. I set off down the beach. The vegetation grew out almost to the water here, and I hadn’t really explored much past it. The tide was out, which made it easier to get around.
I came upon a scene that almost brought me to my knees. I felt tears stain my cheeks as I choked back a sob.
Pulled up on the sand was a boat with a long outrider like you see the Hawaiians or Polynesians ride in. There were long poles on it that the men obviously used for rowing. I wanted to shout for joy, but there was no one at the boat. I stumbled toward it like I had just found a steakhouse.
Then I saw two men leaning over near the edge of the vegetation and studying one of the weird flowers that my girl ate the first day. The thing that killed her and made her into a zombie.
“Hey!” I yelled.
One was on his feet in a flash. He was shirtless but had on a pair of Bermudas with a bunch of flowers all over them. Had a big old necklace of teeth and one that was some sort of flowers like a lei. He snatched a small spear that was at his side and stared at me like I was a ghost.
“Hey, help, I’ve been stuck here for two weeks! My plane crashed and I …”
The other was on his feet, but he wasn’t looking at me. Neither was the first one for that matter. They stared past me at something in the distance.
“Guys, you need to help me get off this island!” I walked toward them across the hot sand. I already had visions of being taken to their village, where I would be treated like a god, fed real food, and then returned to civilization like a conquering hero. I was sure to make the talk show circuits, be on the radio and have Hollywood knocking down my door. I might even have to come back here with an expedition and show them how I lived. People go crazy for that stuff, and I would give it to them.
They spoke to each other in low tones and started backing away toward the beach. I held out my hands. Why were they acting like that? Oh my God! I yanked the turtle shell off my head and threw it aside. I bet it scared them. Their eyes went wide, and they turned and ran for the boat.
“No! Wait!” I yelled.
A shape brushed into me, then shambled toward them. She had gotten loose from her binding and looked ready for dinner. One of them threw a spear in haste and ran to the boat. The slim piece of wood missed her by about a foot and sank into the sand. The other guy was already pulling the tiny boat into the sea. She still had the cover on her mouth. She wasn’t any danger.
“She can’t hurt you! Wait! Please come back!”
But they were already in their boat and rowing like the thing was on fire.
She stumbled to the water and just kept going. I had to go after her and grab her around the waist to haul her back to the shore. She struggled, trying to turn and bite me. I took her to the shore and deposited her on the sand in a heap.
I hope they come back.
They have to come back.
She stared at me silently and then came after me like I was one of them instead of the guy who has been taking care of her. She had her hands out and, with her slow shambling walk, was about as dangerous as a pissed-off puppy. I walked away from her.
I pulled the spear out of the sand and walked back toward her with murder in my heart. I held the weapon low, but when I got closer, I moved it over my head as if I were going to throw it. If she keeps this up, I will never get off the island. She just scared off my first real rescue attempt. Dammit!
Life and death. Er, death and death. I could have just ended her then. I could have ended her any time. But my dilemma was there again. If I killed her, I would lose my only companion.
Maybe I’ll kill the bitch tomorrow.
Day 17
My Girlfriend Wants Some Time Apart
I couldn’t sleep. Tossed and turned all night on the little palm-leaf mattress. Tied her up a ways off and ignored her snarls. I half hoped those guys would return in the middle of the night and kill her for me. I can’t seem to do it. I guess I am just too chicken shit.
What if they never come back and I am stuck here for years? Years with her. She will probably fall apart before a month passes. I doubt her body will be able to hold up to all the crazy stuff on the island. Something is going to come along and eat her, or she is going to wander into the water one day when I’m not looking.
I stoked up the fire in the night, but I had to do it behind the lean-to so she didn't see it. After almost two weeks, it still scares her to see a roaring fire. I have never threatened to push her in. I don’t know why she goes bat-shit insane when she sees the flames. She’s like a child that has been burned and knows to fear flames. But as far as I know, she hasn’t been hurt by fire. Stupid Franken-zombie-chick.
Read the stupid romance book by the flickering light. The book was about a woman who lost her firefighter husband in a massive inferno at a skyscraper. He somehow pulled out nearly everyone in the building, but he went in one last time. He just had to be a hero instead of calling it a day and cracking open a cold one. Now she is settling for a cop, but she is scared that he’ll be killed in the line of duty. And, as if she didn’t have enough problems with men, she has a crush on her boss at work. God, what a stupid story. Who thinks this stuff up?
The book did get wet while floating around in the big hunk of luggage, so it was crinkly. Every time I turned a page, I thought it was going to fall out. Too bad she pissed me off so bad. Otherwise, I would’ve read to her. She seems to like that.
The mosquitoes were pretty bad. I’ve found that they stay away when she is near. They certainly don’t land on her and bite her. If they tried to bite her, I wonder if they would catch the virus? Oh no! What if they passed the disease onto me that way? If that was going to happen, I’m sure it would have by now, since I have been bitten about a million times. Stupid bugs. Some nights I want to roll around in the fire to stop the itching. I bet that would scare her off for good. Me running around in flames.
I lay awake and wondered how to kill her. I knew I would have to somehow destroy her head. I was thinking of using a rock, but if it was small, I would have to hit her a few times. I don’t really like blood, and I don’t like hurting people. I really didn’t like the idea of seeing her putrid brains splattered on the sand.
I suppose I could stick that spear in her eye and stir like I was scrambling eggs. But I bet that would be just as gross as using a rock. The stuff would probably leak out of her like liquid putty.
The way to make sure she’s dead for real would be to remove her head. I would need the kn
ife for that, or maybe my little black hand-ax would do. The Swiss army knife would take a long time to cut through her neck. It would probably get stuck in her spine, and then how would I pop those bones apart? I might even break the blade trying to do it.
Maybe I could find a nice thick chunk of wood and smash her head. That sounded like the best idea. I could swing it like a baseball bat. If I did it hard enough, she wouldn’t even make a sound; she would just drop to the ground, dead—or dead again. I dropped a melon once, and the sound was like a hollow gurgle. That’s exactly what her head would sound like. Gross! I wish I had a safer way to do it, something more humane, but I don’t have a gun or a stick of dynamite.
I thought about looping a rope around her neck and hanging her from a tree. Maybe dropping her from a distance would snap her neck. I could try doing it with my hands, but I think that only works in movies.
Morning came slowly. The sun rose while I tossed and turned. I missed my bed, the little apartment that Ally and I shared in Los Angeles. I wonder how she’s doing. Does she miss me? She probably thought I was dead and wanted to move on. My poor Ally. Here I am contemplating killing a woman, and she is stuck at home worrying about me. How am I going to explain all this to her? She is the jealous sort, and I’m not looking forward to telling her how I rescued a dead chick and lived with her for a few weeks on a deserted island.
I strolled past her like she wasn’t even there as I went about my daily chores. I ignored her hoots and moans and just kept working. I bathed, dug up some oysters and even a couple of mussels. I had an idea to make a seafood soup but had nothing to cook it in. Found a few little crabs and added them to my catch, then picked up a coconut. That would be a treat, a cup of sweet coconut milk to wash down the food.
I set the shellfish by the fire and added some wood. Cut a hole in the top of the coconut and drank half the milk in one massive swallow that almost made me spit it back up through my nose. The crab popped, and some stuff came out of its mouth, so I took it off, cracked the shell and ate it steaming hot. Burned my mouth because my hands were shaking from being so damn hungry.
