The Zombie Wilson Diaries

by Timothy W. Long

  I dropped the food on a rock by the fire so it could cook slowly, then ran back to pick up the cap. It was sort of square and had a wide end that had some flat piece flanged under so that when I laid it on the ground, it stood up and was quite stable.

  I ate and felt more or less full. Some damn French fries would cap off that meal. While I’m dreaming, again, I may as well dream of biscuits and a hot fudge fucking sundae.

  I sat down to work on the piece. First, I ran some of the cargo netting under it and tied it in the center so it made a cross. I left some of the strap through the small hole, long enough to reach the middle of her leg. Then I tied a big lump in the middle, so I could control how much of the straps stayed loose.

  It was about an hour later when she crawled back into camp with her eye fixed on my crotch like it was prime rib. I waited until she got close, then fell on her back and held her down. I pulled her leg back, the one missing the foot, and tried out the new fitting.

  It was a bit tight. I moved the straps around so they didn’t cross each other. Then I put it over her calf and pushed until it wouldn’t move any more. I tapped it a few times, then took the ends I had left hanging, pulled them up and tied them to her knee. Wow, this might work.

  I helped her up and stood her before me. She was very unsteady on the square hunk of metal. I saw the ends bite into her flesh, but I don’t think she cared. She fell the first few times she took a step. Around the eighth or ninth time, she seemed to get her footing and was able to walk a few feet.

  Now she makes a cool “thonk and slide” sound when she walks.

  At least she’s mobile again. I took her top off and tried not to stare at her shriveled breasts. They looked like peaches left in the sun for a few days. I looped the dress over her head and let it settle around her shoulders. She looks a lot better now. What a change!

  “You look much better, babe.”

  Snarl.

  “Really, the color suits your eyes. I mean eye.”

  Snarl.

  Thunk. Slide. Thunk. Slide. At least I will hear her coming now. It was just about as effective as a cowbell.

  Day 27

  My Girlfriend Whines a Lot

  The raft is coming along great! I rolled a pair of logs close to each other and then dragged the tail section from the plane between them. I rolled more logs on either side of those and—looky here—we had ourselves a floating fortress. There was plenty of webbing in the plane, so I took it all out, tore it apart, tied it up with half-assed knots that would make a boy scout cry, and then attempted to wrap the logs together.

  I laid smaller logs next to the big ones in the hope it would help stabilize the craft. Then I grabbed a bunch of strips of palm trees I have been drying out and made more rope out of them, just like I have been using to keep my girl secured. I brought her to the site and let her stomp around a little while I worked. She got a bead on me with her eye, which was getting really dry and nasty these days. I can’t imagine it works. What if she just senses me somehow, like a zombie psychic? Maybe being dead gives her special powers of the mind that I can’t imagine.

  Nah, she is too dumb for that.

  The new foot is holding up surprisingly well. It slows her down a lot, and it is noisy as hell. It sounds like she is a robot with that big heavy metal plate on her leg. I found another use for it. If I put her near a big log and kick the plate under it, she gets stuck for a while before she wiggles it loose.

  The plan was to build the raft until I had no more material. Launch it, see if it floats and then, well, float away. Oh darn! I hadn’t thought of that. How did I get it to move in the water? Perhaps I could try to make some sort of sail with all the clothes I have saved up. I don’t have a way to sew them all together. I would have to make oars.

  I got the first three logs tied together before I ran low on stuff to tie them with. It only left me a half-raft, and I would need to store stuff like food and water on the rest. I don’t have much. I didn’t come across any treasure left by a pirate. Don’t have any souvenirs. I don’t even have my bags from the trip.

  I went back and retrieved some of the clothes and tore them into strips so I could make more rope. The jeans were the best. They were thick, made of strong fabric. The dresses and silk shirts didn’t seem that great, but on closer inspection, the silky stuff was much stronger than I thought. I wound some together and found out I couldn't tear it apart no matter how hard I tried.

  I managed to get another three logs tied together, and it was looking like a proper raft, almost like something you would see in a movie—almost. I found a long stick and tied a couple of pieces of broken luggage to it. I had to tear the hard plastic cases apart with the rock knife, but in the end, I had a broad-bladed oar. It should be strong enough to get me a decent way out to sea.

  I’m in a good mood today. Making the raft has really lifted my spirits. I feel like a new man. I guess I am a new man, as much weight as I have lost. I got a glimpse of my face in the water as I worked and almost didn’t recognize myself. I’ve given up shaving. Without shaving cream, the crappy plastic razors I found the first few days left my face a rash of blazing pain. My eyes looked sunken in, sort of hollow. They looked—wild.

  “Do I look crazy to you?” I asked my zombie, who was stuck with her metal foot under a log.

  Snarl.

  I should write a top 40 pop tune called Snarl.

  “I didn’t think so either, baby.”

  I fished for about an hour, gathering up much more than I usually would. I cooked some of the food, but I put the rest in a luggage piece that was filled with water. It was probably a makeup bag when it was in use; now it’s my refrigerator.

  I went back to fishing, diving deep to dig up oysters in the beautiful blue surf. The clouds were rolling in, and I was sure it would rain before the day was over. That wouldn’t help get the raft built any quicker. Damn!

  I checked on her, but she was still stomping up and down. I lifted the hem of her dress to inspect her leg wound, and I was hit with the smell of scorched meat again. It made me think of medium rare filet mignons with a side of sautéed mushrooms. I had to force myself to look at her rotting body to stop my mouth from drooling.

  What a mess. I have written it before, and I will write it again. I should just kill her.

  I’ll do it before I push the raft into the water.

  I went back to the construction site and inspected my handiwork again. I pulled on one log and then the other to make sure everything was solidly constructed. The clouds continued to roll in while I tried to work faster. When the rain came, I decided to check out my hatch idea.

  As is frequently the case, the rain didn’t exactly fall like a virgin spring day. It came down in bucketloads. Imagine standing under a shower. Now multiply the shower by twenty. That is what it felt like.

  I jumped up on the hull and slid inside the opening. I had a bunch of palm leaves woven together with twigs that I used as a hatch. The large end was shut with something similar, a wall to protect me from the worst of the elements. That end was up in the air, thanks to the logs, so only a really heavy wave would get inside. I slid it shut and lay down to take a nap. Giant drops pelted the top in a pattern that reminded me of a really angry heavy-metal musician learning drums. Staccato, that is one way to describe it. Fucking loud and annoying. That is another way.

  I was kept more or less dry, even though a small river of water developed in the center of the tail section. I found that if I lay on my side, it didn’t run against my back. I faced the wall and noticed stains for the first time. Probably where the seawater was eating away at the sides. This part of the plane was used mostly to hold the tail in place, or so I surmised.

  It went on for about fifteen minutes at this pace. I was pretty sure it would stop soon; that’s how it usually works. Except for one night when it dumped for several hours, the dousings were over quickly.

  I heard her howl when the first pulse of thunder rolled across the sky. It started a wa
ys out and then felt like a train was going past. I wish it had been a train—a train to Hawaii. Scratch that, a train to somewhere cold, like Finland. Isn’t that where they build the ice hotels? Everywhere you look—ice! Fuck me, but that sounds like heaven after the weeks I have had in this hellhole.

  She howled again as the thunder ripped another one. A few minutes later, I felt impact as lightning cracked into the ground. I popped my head out in the rain to see her struggling against the log. She was pulling against it so hard that the log was actually rocking back and forth. If she kept it up, she would lose the new metal foot I had made for her—or the rest of her leg. Then I would have to tie a stick on there. She would be just a parrot away from becoming a zombie pirate.

  I jumped out of the hatch, which wasn’t as easy as it sounds. I thought I could just get my legs back out, but it turned out it was almost impossible to slither out the opposite way from how I’d come in. I had to go back toward the front, which had a much larger space, and then turn around.

  I moved the palm leaves aside and popped out. The rain hit me and soaked me to the bone. It was pounding against me for all it was worth. I ran to her side and pushed against the log. Her good eye held a look of panic. I think. Kinda hard to judge what was behind that thing.

  The oddest thing happened when I took her slimy hand in mine. And not just the pieces of skin sliding off her dead digits. Yeah, that was gross, but I’m getting used to sick stuff coming out of her various openings. Anyway, I took her hand in mine, and she calmed down right away. She didn’t snarl, she didn’t hoot or growl; she just stared at me until I took a step and tugged her hand. She clumped behind me as I walked back to the raft.

  Now I had a problem. The large part of the tail had that little covering I built. It faced away from the water, and I was hesitant to break it open. It had taken a good bit of effort to create the damn thing. I guess I didn’t really have a choice. As the rain came down and drenched us both, I worked the end of it free, then tugged it off more or less in one piece. The little bit of strap I used to secure it in place came free without tearing, so I pushed it inside the opening for later reuse.

  I crawled inside and then slid around so my feet went backwards. I pushed myself into the space and settled against the sides.

  Now, I know it would be the polite thing to invite my lady friend into the little hovel, but she stinks. I mean, she really smells, and she has stuff falling off her body. I wouldn’t be able to sleep next to that. No one could sleep next to her. Another burst of lightning tore across the sky, and she let out something like a scream behind the gag.

  Poor thing!

  Taking her hand in mine, I pulled her so that her upper body was forced to bend over to fit in the space with me. I backed up as far as I could and then tried to settle in for the downpour. I should have just gone back to camp, but she seemed so quiet now that she was with me. She laid her head to the side so that her eye could stare at me. She doesn’t blink, ever, which is pretty freaky, but that eye can move when it wants to.

  “Is that better?”

  She didn’t snarl for a change. Well look at Miss Smarty Pants. Finally knows when to keep her inhuman noises to herself.

  Lightning lit the sky again. She jumped forward a little but calmed down until the thunder once again shook the ground. Then she let out a high-pitched noise that almost sounded like a whine. I patted her hand and ran my hand over her head, which turned up what I thought was a beetle of some sort. Scratch that; it was a furry spider. I smashed it against the side of the wall, then wished I had saved it for the fire. I learned a few weeks ago that they taste pretty good when cooked.

  She sort of moaned at me. I thought of it as cooing. When the rain and lightning calmed down, it was like a switch went off in her head. She tried to stand up and bashed her head against the top of the plane, so I pushed her out. Of course, she tried to bite me a couple of times.

  Day 28

  My Girlfriend is Falling Apart

  We barely made it back to camp last night before the rain started up again. She slowly—I mean slowly—craned her neck back until she was staring straight at the sky. I thought she was going to break out in a song from the way her mouth opened and her eye rolled back in her head. Was this her way of showing fear?

  I took her to the tree, the big one with the huge leaves that kept her fairly dry, and tied her up. She lunged at me as I walked away, one arm reaching for my shoulder, but she missed me by a good two or three feet. I think she has lost whatever depth perception she used to have. After the night before, I pretended that she didn’t want me to go. Sorry, honey. I have work to do.

  I dashed to my little lean-to, which leaked because I hadn’t fixed the walls in a while, even though I kept meaning to. I shifted the parts aside until I could find a decent place to lie down that wasn’t dripping rain. I took out the last of the romance novels and read it out loud. In this one, a woman was on a journey to discover herself while sleeping with a bunch of men. I think the only thing she discovered was a really good orgasm.

  There was a lot of inner reflection. Silly stuff about how she felt and how much she worried about how the men in her life regarded her. She went on for pages about how she was unloved and neglected by most of them until she met Mr. Right, who happened to be a pilot. I wish there were a pilot here so he could fly my ass off this rock. It was just plain silly, but I read it anyway. I think she has enjoyed this one just as much as the others.

  I finally fell asleep after taking the last deep drink of the tequila. I was down to just a few shots, if that. I slurped them down and used fresh raindrops as a chaser. It did the trick and helped me fall asleep. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was her staring at me like I was a bowl of chicken teriyaki. She looked ridiculous with the gag on her rotting mouth.

  I woke up and started singing almost immediately. I was so happy because I was going to work on the raft all day, and with any luck, I would leave the island tomorrow. I blew a kiss to her as I went by. She snarled at me, then started clumping around the tree in circles like she used to do. Well, I guess I’m not the only one feeling chipper this morning.

  I untied her and left her alone. She could do whatever she wanted to as long as she kept her teeth safely behind the gag. I was pretty sure I would have to fight her off once or twice today, but hey, who doesn’t want a girl’s attention?

  The first thing I did was get as many oysters and clams as I could. The night before, I had left the luggage with my collection of shellfish in a pool of water to keep them fresh. I added to the collection and tossed out the ones I thought were dead. If they moved again, I would re-add them. As hungry as I have been, I have no desire to cook dead stuff and eat it. That doesn’t sound right. Freshly dead stuff. Like saying freshly live stuff, this brought back bad memories of finding her quivering body. Finding her husband as he lumbered toward me. Finding the dead shark with the death breath. I don’t think I will ever be able to watch a zombie movie again for as long as I live.

  She wandered near a couple of times, but only came at me once. I pushed her away and batted at her, deflecting her clumsy attacks. I hit her hand as she tried to get it around my neck, and one of her fingers snapped backwards and stuck there. I grabbed her wrist to take a look. I tried to push the finger back in the right direction, but when I did, it came loose and fell off. I held the finger in one hand and did a double take. Crap, she really was falling apart.

  I pushed her away and tossed the finger aside. On second thought, I dug a hole in the sand and buried it. No sense in creating more zombie animals. She stumbled away on her heavy metal foot and walked in circles for a while. Every time she spun past me, she hissed or snarled but couldn’t really form the thought to come after me again. Just in case, I escorted her to the tree where her husband’s rotting parts were hanging and left her facing it. She stared up at one of his legs and snarled like she was still pissed at him.

  Caught some of the little fish that collect near the pools of
water the tide leaves in the rocks. Not my favorite, but every little bit helps. I planned to hang them near the fire all night so they would dry out and turn into tiny-fish jerky. They would go great with some of the salt I have been making from dried out seawater. Sea salt from the islands. I should come back and start a business. Right after I firebomb this goddamn island back into the ocean.

  The bindings on the raft were holding up pretty well. A day by the beach seemed to have hardened them with the same salt I was going to use to start my new company. If the sea-salt business doesn’t work out, and how can it not, maybe I will hire someone to research the berries here. I could bring them back and give them to a pharmaceutical company. Maybe they could make some longevity pills or something.

  Or keep people alive for a while.

  Or start a zombie invasion. Yeah, I have seen the movies. It only takes one evil doctor in a laboratory to start that shit up, and then everyone is forced to live in a farmhouse and fight the things day and night. Screw that.

  Still, I went to the little evil flowers and studied them for a few minutes. I tried to stay away from this area, because I knew how dangerous it was. If she ate the berries, there was no telling what other animals would try to ingest them.

  The flower was still in bloom, a beautiful violet-colored blossom with those wicked-looking serrated blades for leaves. The berries hung under them and reminded me of blueberries, but smaller. I took a stick and knocked a few off, then scooped them toward me.

  Just a couple of inches away—death and rebirth. I studied them and decided that they needed to go with me. I wrapped some in a leaf and then double-wrapped that with another. Took those back to the camp, put them in one of the medicine bottles, and stashed them in the backpack along with all the other things I had, which didn’t amount to much. I had the lighter that I kept in the plastic storage bag Ally bought me. I had my previously waterlogged wallet and what is left of my ID cards.