by Joe McKinney
Another step and then I was in the bush. I moved toward the beach where the islanders had made landfall not so long ago. Or was it? Was that a week ago? A month? Twenty years? It seemed that long. Time wasn’t really my friend here. When I was at the hotel, I sure wished time would stop.
Stupid time.
But back to the voices—the ones NOT in my head.
I stepped faster, sure footed like a bush hunter. If this was Africa, I would have purchased a cool hat and whip when I arrived. I might even have a leather jacket, because that’s what the famous archeologist Dr. Jones wore. It might be a hundred and ten, but nothing broke his cool.
The beach was just ahead, and I was now able to make out movement. Not a mirage but people. A lot of people. More people than I had seen in weeks.
I should run out and greet them. I wish I had something to offer, like a tray of ice-cold coconut slices. What the fuck was I thinking? As soon as they saw me, they would probably try to kill me. I had chased them off last time, even if I didn’t mean to.
I stood behind the leaves and watched the men get out of their boats. I was pretty sure it was the same visitors as before. They wore the same kind of clothes. I remembered the big boy with the tropical-print shirt. What, was it on sale at Village-R-Us?
They didn’t look so happy go lucky this time. They looked irritated.
I was hoping my rescuers would arrive with food and beer. These guys were arriving with weapons. They had huge shields made out of leaves woven tightly together. They were also building a whole stack of spears. Then one of them pulled out something different, something that looked like a blow gun. Or a really long pipe. If it shoots darts, then it is silent but deadly in a different way than the coconut-powered gas that I seem to emit on a regular basis.
Ah, shit. They were here, and they were here for me and her Highness. The princess zombie had finally drawn the attention of someone who could do something about her rotted state. I had to get off the island, but how could I make a run for it if they had those cool boats? They would be on me within minutes. Then it would be bye bye, zombie girl and bye bye, big Hollywood paycheck. And maybe bye bye, my life.
I needed a plan. I needed a way to distract them, a way to destroy the boats, and a way to get off the island without getting me and my girl filled with holes. There was no way I could be sure they would let me live. They might be savages, headhunters even! Maybe that was what they were after all along!
I took a few deep breaths and then went to retrieve her.
I led my girl along the well-worn path to the little lake I was so fond of spending my days in. My plan was pretty simple. I was going to hide her somewhere they would never think to look. Then I would go back and take care of them.
Just to be clear, I had no idea how I was going to take care of them.
I used some rope to tie her in a neat zombie bundle. With her hands at her sides and her legs tied together, I was able to tug her into the water. Now this may come as a surprise to you, oh dear Diary, but instead of sinking like dead weight, she floated. I dragged her corpse out to the center of the lake, took a deep breath and then swam for the bottom.
Once I had her on the floor of the lake, which was only seven or eight feet deep, I was able to drag a few large rocks to hold her down there. A few bubbles rose to the surface, but as I sank her, they stopped when her lungs were full of water.
It was time to put part two of my non-plan into effect. I was going to do what I did best.
I was going to hide.
Day 30
My Girlfriend Hates Long Goodbyes
Night fell. It fell hard ... I’ve always wanted to say that.
I found a nice little cubbyhole up above the waterfall. Not much space, and it smelled like shit. Pretty sure an animal lives in here. I wish the little bastard had made it to my camp for a barbecue.
I pulled some giant leaves over the tiny entryway and waited. I heard the men stomping below and talking in some language that may as well have been French. I didn’t understand a single word.
I resisted the urge to look at them, to peek between the leaves and see what they were up to. Of course they passed my girl where she lay on the bottom of the lake. I hoped there were no piranhas or other carnivores in the lake. If she got eaten, I was not getting my movie deal!
So night fell, as I said. I waited and waited until the moon was as high in the sky as I have ever seen. I crept out to the camp the islanders had made and found them passed out, surrounded by these wooden containers that must have had booze in them. It turns out the blow gun was not a gun at all. It had a pipe end that was filled with something black. What were these guys up to?
To make matters worse, a few of the flowers lay limp next to the giant pipe. Holy shit! Were they smoking the zombie berries? If they all woke up dead and howling for blood, I was so far beyond fucked it made my head spin.
I moved along the beach and hid behind rocks and trees when I had to. I didn’t have much in the way of weapons. Just my Swiss army knife. I guess I could cover their mouths, one at time, and slit their throats. With my luck, they would hear me, and the only thing getting cut would be my neck.
The boats were a ways from the camp. I went to them and looked around but didn’t really find anything interesting. Some dried fish in a wrapper. I ate that shit like it was a fucking four-course French meal at Chez Soufflé. They had a bunch of spears and things that I suspected were torches.
They had runners strapped to the sides of the boats. Big things that hung over the side and probably kept the boat from tipping over. I started to cut through one when I got an idea. I didn’t stop cutting, though. That would be part of the fun.
Three boats were all they needed for their army. I took my time at each one, sawing while constantly looking over my shoulder.
Come and kill my girl, will you?
I wanted to be brave, but I expected them to wake up at any moment and chop off my head and shrink it for their witch doctor. These guys always have witch doctors, right?
Once I had the runners loose, I crept into the camp and stole a piece of wood that was sticking out of the fire. The men, there were eight or nine of them in all, snored like it was going out of style. One guy was so big I was afraid the island would shift if he bolted to his feet.
I was just stepping away from the huddled bodies when one of them farted and rolled over. I froze and closed my eyes. I figured that if they couldn’t see my white eyeballs, they wouldn’t see me at all. Maybe they would think I was just a dream.
In the movies, this is the part where the guy wakes up, sees the other guy sneaking into their camp, calls the alarm, and the creeper has to beat the hell out of them all.
The only thing that was going to get beat was my ass.
But luck was on my side—for once. I haven’t had a lot of that in the last few weeks. I guess I was due.
He started snoring again—this linebacker dressed in shorts and a rumpled Hawaiian shirt.
I was out of the camp in no time, running to the boats. I uncovered a few of their torches and laid them along the waterside, where they wouldn’t see them. It was just a matter of some blowing while holding the smoldering stick to the side of one.
It was a slow flame at first, but it caught on soon enough. Then the fire was licking up the side of the little craft.
I proceeded to torch the other vessels. I was quite a ways down the beach when I heard the first cries. As soon as they tried to move one, they would be in for a shock.
It was time to GO!
I headed for the water first. I took a dip while the sky lit up near the beach. I’m sure they would be able to drag the boats into the water to put out the flames, but with no floaty things on the ends, they were unlikely to be able to follow me.
I dove into the water and pushed the rocks off her. Her eyes were almost pretty in the water. The one that is still blue. The socket I had covered had a little fish living in it, and that just about scared me to death. There was
hardly any light to begin with, but with her O of a mouth and fluttering nonexistent eye, I was thankful to be in the water, considering I almost shit my pants.
I dragged her to the shore and tried to pick her up. Stupid clothes were heavy, so I stripped them off. I hauled her over my shoulder and then took off for my camp. Water leaked out of her mouth and across my back the whole way. She even burped a few times.
“We are going on a trip. You say I never take you to nice places. Well, guess again, baby.”
Gurgle gurgle.
“That’s right, another tropical paradise where you will hopefully become a star.”
I dumped her in a heap. They had made a mess, going through my stuff. I gathered as much as I could and tossed items into bags and cases. Christ! They would be here any minute!
I found my turtle hat and threw it on the raft just in case I wanted to protect my head from the heat or had to fight another giant zombie. Hah, like that will happen. The little cooler was hanging by a rope, floating a foot from the raft. I grabbed the dress she was wearing yesterday and brought it along. I had been planning to use it to help fix the raft if I had to tie some logs together. Now I had another idea.
I put it on her and led her back to the raft as fast as I could. I tossed her to the floor of my vessel and pushed off. The raft didn’t move at first, so I stood back and kicked it.
Noises behind me. Were they on their way to spear me and steal my raft?
She stared at the water like she had never seen anything wet before. She hooted and snarled at the moon, head tipping back to take in the full circle of white light.
I kicked again, and this time, the raft slid along the logs and into the water. I smiled at my ingenuity and waded along as I pushed it. The surf was barely moving, so it was just a matter of walking it as far as I could and then kicking my legs and pushing away from the beach.
I climbed on board and rowed while pushing her down. The raft was barely large enough for me, let alone her and her stink.
She sat down the next time I pushed her and stared at me in all her naked glory. Before she fell, I got a look at her backside. Her ass has shrunken so that it looks like the butt of a seventy-year-old woman. Her legs, which were once long and flawless, look like blue cheese.
Her breasts, which I couldn’t take my eyes off just a month ago, are these things that look like really big raisins with nipples. The implants are so plain now that I can’t believe I used to think she was real up there. Good thing she is a nightmare to look at. I was able to concentrate on getting the hell out of here.
I put the big dress on her and then tied it around her legs nice and tight. Had to lay her down for that, then I had to fight her to keep her from attacking me.
My hands were shaking. At any moment, I expected the islanders to burst though the jungle, howling for blood.
I had to set her down, but she didn’t fight back much. She just stared at the shape of her husband in the trees and hooted every once in a while. I considered making a gag to shut her the hell up.
I secured her legs together with the dress pulled all the way down to her ankles, then I took the metal piece off her leg and tossed it toward the hollowed tail section. Say hello to my new anchor.
The end of her leg was rotted and smelled terrible. Pus and crap dripped from between the exposed bone and where I thought I had burned it closed, some of the skin had been pulled back, so that critters had been able to gnaw away at the end. I wrapped it in a piece of cloth. I didn’t want to see any barnacles growing on her like her husband, Barnacle Douche-Waffle. God, that guy was a jerk.
I took a pair of thick dry logs I had brought along just for the hell of it. We floated away from the island at a snail’s pace so I rowed every few minutes to get a little momentum.
I had to push her down again. She snarled at me when her head hit a log.
“Sheesh, I’m trying to help you here.” I blew up the enema bag, screwed on the end and tied it tight so it wouldn’t leak. I set that in front of her and grabbed the shirts. The logs were first. I used one shirt to secure one log under each arm. The inflated enema bag was next. I used the other shirt to tie it under her chin. I figured it would keep her head from dipping in the water and make her float better.
I tugged her off the raft and pushed her into the water. Just as I had hoped, she floated like a weird zombie top. Or like one of those bobbers you put on a string before you drop it in the water to let you know when a fish nibbles at it.
I crawled up on the raft and picked up my oar. I rowed away, only pausing once to give the island the bird with both hands. Stupid island. I hope I never see you again. Stupid island visitors. I hope you guys can get home someday.
She snarled at me from the water where she was dragged along behind. Water kept splashing up into her face, but she didn’t care.
I sat on the top of the tail section and rowed twice on one side, then twice on the other. Still, the current carried us away. I tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle. The raft was dragged along the side of the island instead of away from it, but soon enough, my old home was falling into the distance.
I stared out at the ocean, at the beautiful blue water as we were carried farther and farther away. I felt a sense of relief, a sense that I would soon be picked up or land on a civilized island. I know there are islands everywhere out here, because I saw them on the maps, and they weren’t that far apart.
After a few hours, the sun started to set and I lost track of the island. I was going to have to trust to the current. I looked in every direction, but there was no sign of land yet. I looked back at the island, or where I thought the island had been, but there was no sign of it. All I saw was beautiful blue water.
Water water everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I couldn’t even tell in what direction I was floating. That’s when I realized I may have made a mistake. I was stuck on the open ocean with a few days’ food, a little bit of water and an undead zombie chick.
Damn it! I have to hang my ass over the side of the raft and take a dump. Hope that stuff doesn’t float into her.
Day 3?
My Girlfriend Ain’t no Juliet
I’m writing while sitting in the hatch of the raft.
It’s a bumpy ride, so I have to write slow.
I have been at sea for three days, I think. The lack of food and water has made me a very unhappy raft camper. I thought for sure I would hit another island in a day, two at most. Now it’s day three on the water. I feel like shit. I feel lost and miserable. I finished the last romance book last night as I stared at the sea. Fifth time I read that one, and it wasn’t any better than the first. I read them aloud so she could listen, but she has somehow become turned around and can’t even see me. All she does is moan. I have to put up with it day and night.
Moan moan moan.
My lips were so dry that the act of licking them was like licking a dry potato. My body was weak, and I felt like I hadn't eaten in a week. I ate all of my supplies in a day and a half. Note to self: If you are going out to sea, bring more food!
The water was gone in a day. I tried to ration it, but I sweated out so much that I felt dehydrated a few hours after we left. Getting in the water didn't help the feeling much, though it did help me cool off.
I planned to get in the water later and turn her around. If I get too depressed, I guess I can just let go and float until I can’t float anymore. All of my worries would be over. She would have to hang out until someone found her. She’d float for weeks, and with any luck, predators wouldn't eat her.
But it was too much to leave her to chance. I really would have to do her in if it came to that. I would have to find a way to bash in her brain at last.
Cold at night and too hot during the day. Everything was wet. I tried to dry out my clothes, but water splashed over the side of the raft every few seconds, so it was a losing battle. I had some coconuts left, but the tool I use to cut them open slipped in my wet hands yesterday and went over the side. I scrambled f
or it, but the last log was already loose, and I was too afraid to put any more weight on it.
Not much more to write today. I want to keep the diary dry, so I will stop here. Only a few damn pages left anyway. Another day and my gut feels like it has never had food in it. I feel so tired and thirsty. I know that seawater will kill me, and I also know it tastes terrible. Of course, I had to try some just to see how bad it was. Sure I was on the island and tasted it every day, but never when I was this thirsty. It just pissed me off when I got some in my mouth. Cold and wet, but it sucked the life right out of my tongue along with any moisture. If that albatross flew by right now, he would probably shit on my head.
She hooted every once in a while. When the moon came out at night, she freaked a little and moaned like she was horny. I talked to her, but she just stared at me. So bored. I started reading one of the books again, but that had no effect on her.
Is that smoke?
Did they figure out how to chase me down? Maybe they built a giant steamer out of the parts of their boats and are after me. They plan to burn us on the boat, kill my girl. God, I’m delirious.
Land at last. I think the tide caught us and slingshot us around the side of the island. I fought it, wrestled control back and even made some progress in getting to the beach.
It was almost time to make landfall.
Time to prepare to hit the beach. I will write more if I don’t piss off some natives and get speared. Or cooked. Or both. I don’t even know what day it is. I think I have been missing for thirty-six days or maybe it is thirty-five. Yesterday was miserable, and now I have fresh problems. Oh, Diary, I should have just stayed on the first island.
We landed all right and we were greeted like heroes, just like I had always imagined. Looks of awe turned to disgust—wait, I am getting too far ahead. I’m just so tired. I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.
