Still Alive (Book 4): Zombie Oasis

by Javan Bonds

  Eli spun to face the man that had just shot him. “What the fuck?”

  “‘What the fuck to you! You just killed my brother.” Eric tried to focus. “I’m sorry, man, it was an accident. Really! I wasn’t trying to shoot you.”

  Eli grimaced at Eric and sank to his knees. He was losing blood fast and knew he was going to die. The man had always had a vengeful streak. “You may have gotten me, but you’re going, too!”

  Eli sent a round from his shaky hand at Eric. The 44 Magnum round just grazed his neck before slamming into the wall behind him. Eric was amazed he was still standing and screamed with joy. “Holy shit, I’m alive!” He felt something hot on his shoulder and brought his hand up. The bullet had nicked his carotid.

  There was nothing anyone could do. He started losing color and was soaked in dark blood in an instant. He took a step to the door and tripped in the slick crimson coating the floor around him. He tried to push himself back up but seemed to be losing strength with each gush of blood. I’ll just rest here on the floor. That was his last conscious thought before death overtook him.

  ☠☠☠

  What the kriff? Gene had just watched two of the guys inside kill each other after the guy closest to the door shot and killed the third guy. Without a witness and the three participants gone from this world, there was no way to figure out what had transpired in that shed.

  Even through his helmet, he could smell the vinegar. That had to be why the blunatics were on their way. He didn’t understand what caused it, but knew that smell couldn’t be anything else. He turned and barked through his in-suit com. “The Grubbs are coming!” He started hustling to the trucks.

  ☠☠☠

  The four men in the black Silverado all got out and walked around the back to climb onto the bed. They were looking all around them and finally spotted their first customers. Three of the infected beasts came at them from the east. The electrical worker closest to them shot the first one just above the collarbone. The bullet exploded out the back of its neck after surely rupturing arteries and severing the spine. The ghoul dropped as blood rocketed from the opening and it spasmed a few times on the ground.

  The construction worker next to him simultaneously shot the one on the far right. He launched two 5.56 rounds in quick succession. The first round slammed into its left hip joint, sinking through the thigh. The bullet exploded out the inside of the leg and immediately passed into the testicles. Bone, cartilage, and blood burst from the exit wound as the round drove into the shriveled balls. It exploded from the testicles and disappeared into the right leg. The animal would never again procreate.

  The second shot caught the thing just higher, destroying its pelvis. It passed through the bladder, ripped apart kidneys, and pancaked all the plumbing below the belly button. Sloppy diarrhea, urine, blood, and a green-looking substance blew out of the rectum, penis, and entry wound. Even had a surgical team been on hand, there was no way for the revenant to survive such a catastrophic hit.

  The second construction worker of the quartet had his 308 hunting rifle propped up on the tailgate. He scoped in on the middle monster and could not believe he got a headshot on a moving target. It could have been just luck, or maybe all the years training in COD had paid off. The bullet impacted the reanimated corpse below the right temple and completely destroyed the cranium. Everything above the lower jaw was missing and blood rocketed up, almost as a cartoonish fountain. It appeared the head had been vaporized. Nothing rained down around the orbless scourge. It collapsed in a growing pool of body fluids.

  The last human in the group focused on two more peevies coming out of the woods to the west. The ravenous hunger etched on their faces said it had to be more than just the scent of juicy person that drew them out. Even though they enjoyed taking a chunk of delicious, succulent people meat, they normally would not assault armed humans en masse. The creatures were smart enough to know that attacking from across an open field would get them nowhere but dead in the dirt. But here they were, as if they didn’t realize they were trying to take on a group of humans.

  Five rifle rounds were sent barreling at the zombies. Two rounds impacted the leading creature on either side of the belly button. Abdominal muscles were torn and organs were vaporized before both rounds puffed from the lower back. Bile and blood shot from the exit wounds as the creature’s forward momentum made it topple onto its face.

  A single bullet caught the next blunatic in the top of the bicep. It passed through and buried itself into the side of the monster’s chest, puncturing both lungs and splintering ribs before exiting out the other side. The animal fell, gasping for breath and dying slowly from suffocation.

  The Tech, waiting in a fighting stance on the ground, noticed a single ghoul approaching from the northwest. He mentally painted this creature in his HUD and extended his claws before charging. The animal was frightened by the shiny-shelled human racing in its direction and stopped to stare in amazement. It was strange to discover pale ones here, and even stranger that the hunted was attempting to become the hunter. The speeding human didn’t stop or even slow down and came within a dozen yards. The peevie turned to retreat. The strategic withdrawal wasn’t fast enough and the metallic human launched into the air. It came down at an angle, pushing the heavy feet against the female’s knees and driving steel claws into the chest above the shrunken blue breasts. The knees buckled and then inverted before both femurs broke and stabbed through the front of the legs. The body tore away from the lower legs and toppled to the ground while the feet remain planted, shooting blood that was pumping to the heart an instant ago. The razor-sharp spikes on Gene’s wrists sank into the chest behind the pectoral muscles and ribs. Once the blades sank to the knuckles, The Tech brought his wrists down and then up in a rapid back and forth. The breasts were loosely dangling by shredded flaps of skin with blood running out of the widening lacerations. The fantasy memorabilia collector twisted his wrists and destroyed any chance of surviving for the revenant. Both lungs were sliced open as the heart was ripped into shreds. The claws made a plopping sound as the Brotherhood of Steel Paladin withdrew his melee weapons from the ragged body. He shook the bloody meat from his blades and wiped them clean on the peevie’s matted hair.

  He stood and scanned the immediate area, ready for another foe. No campers had been waiting to take this opportunity to attack while he was occupied. The Tech shrugged when met by only the breeze. Perhaps those in spectator mode enjoyed watching him butcher the zombie that now lay dead in front of him. He raised his fist in triumph and turned to make his way back to his home base on this map.

  ☠☠☠

  While Gene ran at one of the monsters, the other defenders rapidly depleted their ammo. With an average of three shots to down one enemy, it was no wonder their flag was about to be captured. The Tech’s speed was augmented by the Force as he dashed to reinforce his comrades. As if in slow motion, he watched with horror while the four men made a sequence of mistakes that resulted in the horrific deaths of all of them.

  The humans were in a close circle, back to back. The one man still had his 308 on the lip of the tailgate, sending round after semiautomatic round in the direction of the coming swarm. AR rounds were sent over the cab, rabid nudists diving at the hood. The men facing east and west were down to their pistols, only shooting when necessary. They could do nothing to stem the tide and they all knew it was a losing battle.

  The defenders on the east and west piled up truly dead reanimated corpses at the tires on both sides when the rifle on their north clicked on empty. The northern defender let his long gun fall on its strap and proceeded to use his pistol and katana. He was stopping blunatics as they topped the cab, shooting and slicing until dark crimson was spilling over the sides.

  The eastern-facing Guardian drew his three-headed flail and began pounding his enemies with the spiked balls on chains as they attempted to climb over the side of the truck bed. The razor-coated balls lodged under the ribcage of a zombie and he yanked t
o free his weapon, ripping infected organs from their host. The chained projectiles flew backwards over his shoulder and caught the westward-facing defender under the chin. Not realizing it, the flail bearer slammed his melee weapon forward to impale another beast. The weapon hung up before his arm could extend fully, and the man behind him let out a choked, gurgling cry. He knew what he had inadvertently done and looked over his shoulder to apologize.

  The fighter defending from behind the cab was rapidly losing ground. The naked crazies spilled over the top of the truck and fell onto him. He lost his footing and fell over backwards, left arm extended, still launching pistol rounds. As he lost his balance, his muscles involuntarily contracted, his trigger finger jerking. His final round went off inches from the eastern-facing guard’s head and the round sank into the back of his cranium before exploding out his face. Only the back of his skull remained as the body dropped, instantly dead. The man toppling over backwards could do nothing but watch his katana spin in the air over him. One of the beasts jumped over the cab, falling onto his downward-facing sword. It did not realize it had just gotten an entire body of a meal when the blade sliced between ribs, dissecting the heart and lungs. Free food!

  The man with three spike balls lodged in his throat coughed up his Adam’s apple as he attempted to breathe. The peevies were swarming over the bed of the truck as he started losing consciousness. His final thought was that he was glad he would not be awake while devoured.

  The remaining defender realized he was alone and being overwhelmed from all sides. The zombies behind and to his sides were more interested in munching and eviscerating the remains of the fallen than worrying about the man with the rapier and extended mag 9 pistol. There was no way he would not get infected and the only thing he could do was drop his blade. Before the animals could reach him, he put his pistol to his head and decided suicide was preferable to becoming a blue, naked, always hungry cannibal.

  ☠☠☠

  “Game over, man. Game over!” was what Gene kept repeating to himself as he watched the humans fall, one by one. He slowed his pace and eventually stopped altogether. His blades were extended and he waited, prepared for the zombies to come his way. The massive swell gobbled up the remains in the back of the truck and then swarmed on their original target. They lapped up the vinegar and cleaned the bones of the deceased in the building. After finding no more free chow, the surge of blunatics slowly wandered off to the north.

  The Tech almost wanted to yell at the retreating peevies, “Can you smell what The Rock is cooking?” Gene could think up all kinds of lines. Whether by his own will or The Screenwriter’s, he couldn’t move or make a noise. Once the coast was clear, the bubble of paralysis lifted. He walked into the small building now decorated by an interior designer with a poop fetish and disconnected the power. The task was complete and it had only cost the island seven souls. If this kind of price was paid at every disconnect there wouldn’t be many of them left.

  Gene rotated his wrist to check his chrono. The scheduled time was still a few minutes away and he smiled, finally able to take a breather. He spoke to the radio in his helmet. “Hey, Aka?” He saw no need to detail what had happened at this power station, at least not here. “We disconnected the power north of the dam.” He made his way to the Naboo Fighter and began the journey south.

  9

  At Any Cost

  THE POWER FLOWING east from the island would be disabled at a station just on the other side of the poultry processing plant past the eastern causeway. The plant looked to be in very good condition and the cardiologist could see it being operational again one day. Well, after the coating of blackened diarrhea had been scraped from every surface.

  The Medicine Man found it strange that the birds that had recently flocked to the island had not consumed any of the fecal matter scattered across this property. Interesting. Maybe avians instinctually steered clear of infected substances. He would have to do a bit of research and find out. Could fowl be susceptible to the infection? This could mean a multitude of different things!

  Dr. George wore the dark armor of the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. He chose to wear the suit sans cape, preferring less drag in combat, less weight, and complete silence in movement. A main protagonist, he proudly wore the armor complete with built-in voice changer. It was regrettable minor and insignificant characters could not be outfitted with plate armor, but there was just not enough to go around. The community would need to come together and build suits of armor to protect everyone working to ensure the future was brighter.

  Three other islanders occupied the seats of the crew cab in which he currently rode. Most humans who volunteered for missions onto the mainland wore at least thick, long-sleeved shirts, despite the heat of another Alabama summer. Some wore gloves and the occasional few wore either leather or chain-mail scarves. The doctor smiled when he thought of the nickname for U.S. Marines on the Barbary Coast over two hundred years ago. Leathernecks.

  Not that this simplistic barrier would prevent infection. The biting infected could simply move up to the bare neck. But the defense might give the human the fraction of a second needed in order to turn the tide of the battle against the former person. That short reprieve could mean life or unlife.

  The pickup to the rear housed just as many occupants. The eight selected for this mission all carried rifles, pistols, and an assortment of hand to hand melee weapons. Dr. George had his trusty two-headed mace strapped over his shoulder. The flat-ended cylinders on each end were lined with razor-sharp barbs all the way around. The thick, bloodstained wooden spear connecting the two made the medieval dealer of death look even more barbarous.

  After the battle with The Villain to protect Guntersville Island had been won, all main protagonists were given the order to wear armor and carry a heavy brawling tool. The leather of the armor still creaked and none of it had that worn-in feeling. Once it had been tried and tested and bathed in blood, The Medicine Man was confident it would feel like a second skin. The double-headed mace was his choice when told that he also would need to carry a melee weapon. He decided that such a tool of butchery, combined with the towering persona of Lord Vader, would appear imposing to the living and the undead alike. Plus, he wanted to be able to get up close and personal with the monsters even when ripping them to shreds. Maybe in that brief instant before they were eviscerated, he would be able to inspect their forms

  The vehicles parked outside a large, fenced-in power station, the fence holding in a yard of gravel. There were several power lines linked to other connectors that were coupled to larger connectors with lines that connected to outgoing lines. The cardiologist knew what all this equipment was. Transformers. Converters. Conduits. AC or DC didn’t matter. He was an expert on how to blow it up, but this was not a demolition job. The survivors accompanying him thankfully were professionals and knew all the ins and outs of electrical work. The Medicine Man was only tasked with walking to the power station with the three who were set to perform the disconnection of the power flow.

  The doctor waited outside the station, practicing swinging his new destructive, pain-inflicting toy. The three men were smart enough to carry flashlights. Once they were sure the building contained only the equipment it was supposed to contain, with a recent paint job of zombie excretions, they let the door swing closed behind them and got to work.

  Just as the heavy door sealed behind the rubber barrier, Dr. George began hearing distant pops to his northwest and west northwest. Gunfire. Lots of it. These faraway gunshots were of course followed by animal shrieks. Whether shrieks of terror or excitement, Darth Vader could not discern. But that much noise from that many infected could only mean one thing. They were on the attack. He knew from experience that these calls would only serve to stir up any afflicted within earshot. He readied himself for a wave of plague victims and started making his way to the occupied truck.

  The first blunatic emerged from the woods on the southern side of the highway. It seemed surprised to com
e across humans here. It was definitely not hunting them and only active for the reason Dr. George originally assumed. It had been riled up by the distant calls from its fellows to the north. The dozens that began appearing from the darkness were just as noticeably shocked to discover food at this point. Of course, the surprise was happy and excitement was evident on the males.

  Two of the defenders opened up with their rifles from the passenger side window. The driver raised his rifle through his window and began shooting from over the roof. The fourth man slid open the back window of the cab and began taking shots from a prone position on the toolbox. The Medicine Man gave his own addition to the mayhem by sending bursts from his submachine gun at the monsters. The infected fell in droves while an uncountable number of naked cannibals poured from within the trees. The cardiologist wished he had requested a Humvee or some type of armored vehicle to accompany them on this mission. Even though two of the Humvees had been disabled after the battle with The Villain, the mounted 50s should have at least been transferred to civilian vehicles. He would make sure to bring that up in his next conversation with Mayor Collins.

  One peevie caught a 5.56 round in the head of its erect penis. The bullet followed the urethra all the way to the base and bounced around deeper inside the body, fracturing the pelvic bone and completely ruining all plumbing. A slow-motion camera should have taken in the beautiful disaster as it occurred. The penis seemed to mushroom as the piece of lead sank into the tip of the shaft. It split evenly, as if it were a thin, blue banana being sliced. The ball sack broke open and emptied a viscous substance with the now-ruptured testicles as it passed over. The bullet exited out the anus with a spray of black and red, ensuring if the zombies survived, it would never have another good day. The creature collapsed onto its knees, screaming in unimaginable agony. Just as its knees touched earth, a bullet buried itself into the chin, rocketed up through the gaping mouth and severing the tongue. After destroying the sinuses, it dug through the brain and exited the top of the skull, blood and gray matter exploding behind it. It toppled over on its destroyed face, leaking juices from the top of the head. As the body collapsed prostrate, the rectum only sputtered a whimpering sigh and seeped black and bloody fluid.