by Javan Bonds
Anyway, I normally make every attempt to avoid ingesting the poisonous meat. My last memorable encounter was somewhere around the age of sixteen.
☠☠☠
In my sixteenth summer, a few weeks after my sophomore year of high school, my friends and I spent almost every day that was not consumed with manual labor at our part-time jobs getting sunburned at the Douglas Public Pool. Either that or wasting time and buying absolutely nothing at Walmart. It must have been a payday. We decided to take ourselves to the Pizza Hut lunch buffet to eat more bread and shitty cheese than humanly safe.
The cook brought out a pan pizza which at the time I thought was only cheese and pepperoni. I did not see the nearly invisible and tasteless bacon lying across the top. I took the entire pie back to my table. The group split somewhere around six more cakes of fried dough and unnatural cheese among them. We were off to loiter at the Boaz Walmart until we got bored or hungry again.
My friends and I had been inside no longer than fifteen minutes when that pizza decided to let me know it had bacon on it. I was walking from Electronics to Sporting Goods when the urge struck. There was absolutely no way I was going to be able to make it to the bathroom unless God just miracled me onto the throne with my pants already around my ankles. Hanging my head in agonizing realization, there was no point in running and I actually resigned myself to buying a new pair of pants. A thought came to me: The pillows and fabrics section was to my left. Turning, I walked halfway down an aisle when I found just what I needed: a perfectly white recliner. I pulled the cushion forward, pulled my boxers down just far enough for my asshole to say hello to the softest and most comfortable toilet in existence, and started breaking the law. I’m surprised no one heard my barely muffled moans and yelps, the explosive sound of muddy water slapping against meat, or picked up on the vaporous scent that immediately escaped my bowels. Looking back, I can compare my after-bacon chunky fecal liquid to the shit of peevies. Just not everywhere, and I definitely did not enjoy it as they seem to.
I thankfully found a brown pillow nearby that I used to get everything clean. On our way out of Walmart, I looked at my buddy who was unaware I had just violated the piece of furniture. “Dude, I think that pizza with a hamburger on it might have actually been sausage.”
“So?”
I remember being surprised that I had never told my friend of my allergy. He chuckled when he discovered the truth. “No man, that pan pizza had bacon on it!”
I couldn’t believe I made it out of that Walmart without being accosted by security. The next time I went in there, I was expecting “wanted dead or alive” posters for the guy that destroyed a piece of furniture. The manager never called my mom and I was not involved in a high-speed chase after we left. I got away clean. Well, it’s doubtful the guy who buys that recliner will be anywhere near clean after he sits down.
☠☠☠
From that moment on I chose to inform anyone I was eating with that I would break out in hives upon eating pork. Hell, I think I even told Smokes!
Days and several entire cows were spent devouring the greatest barbecue I had ever had. Eventually I decided I should go see some of the other main protagonists to get them to follow on this new adventure. The Oracle would be going because it had already been decided by fate or The Screenwriter or whatever. I already had the willingness of The Expert to follow me into hell. Crow would stay with her lesbian lover while constantly throwing racist obscenities at me. Convincing The Tech to accompany the crew would not be difficult since he needed to get away from the place where his love was lost. The Love Interest would definitely come with me, I hope, with our whole committed relationship and everything. I’m fairly certain The Old Friend was just itching for something to do. My biggest difficulty would be to convince my perfect brother and his wife, who saw me as a disgusting peeping Tom, to travel on something resembling Amistad. Holy shit, I just realized that! Should I also feel guilty for bringing Smokes aboard? I would also have trouble recruiting The Medicine Man who would obviously rather remain here to save lives than go exploring with a bunch of pirates. Also, The Man of God was perfectly happy giving sermons to people that did not normally use profanity or fall asleep during preaching.
That’s right, Easy and Aka got married yesterday or the day before or something. You can’t expect me to remember something unimportant like that. A short, small ceremony that wasn’t very memorable. I’m fairly certain my sister-in-law would tell you all about her deviant brother-in-law. “That is just what a pervert like Mo would think of something so simple and beautiful.”
As I got up and readied myself for the day, I made sure to turn into the crew quarters. I asked The Oracle, “What do I need to say to your pawpaw to get him to come with us?”
My morbidly obese friend chose to perform nothing close to physical exercise. He spoke without looking up. “Not shit mufucka.”
I blinked in confusion. “You don’t think I can convince him?”
“Hells naw cracka!”
I continued to stare stupidly at him before he continued, “Sides, I done done it.”
“Really? How?”
“I tells him we was gettin’ Busta. He said it was God’s will or some shit fo him to go.”
I need to ask them who or what Busta is before we leave.
I thanked The Oracle for taking care of a trouble spot. I said my farewells and began my walk to where my brother, his wife, and The Old Friend would assuredly be, The Running Man. God had to be not only a George Romero fan, but also an avid watcher of Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. The establishment’s name was catchy considering the fact that a man would run from the zombies. It was also funny because Bradley couldn’t run. Oh come on, I’m not the only one that thought that.
Before I made my way to the gym, I felt a peevie-like hunger for barbecue sauce. I turned to walk into the post-apocalyptic barbecue joint with a really hot waitress and some kick ass food.
☠☠☠
I wiped my hands off and stood from my table at my new favorite restaurant after eating an entire cow. My radio buzzed. “Mo. Gray Fox here. Your cousin is going to come by TEOTWAWKI and see you for a bit. Over.”
Cousin? I wasn’t aware of any surviving cousins. “Which one?” I had a good many cousins – second, third, and even fourth cousins that kept in contact with family. I couldn’t think of any that would be alive and here.
“Mo. Gray Fox here. Benji. Over.”
Before I go any further: How the hell did my dad know I was at the restaurant? I mean, sure, I’ve been here from the time they open until closing time for days, but shit. Do I have a GPS tracker implanted in me or am I just that predictable?
“Benji’s here?” I was incredulous. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Gray Fox here. No problem. Over and out.”
I slapped my forehead. Jesus, apparently my father can’t understand any kind of inflection over the radio!
My cousin came in and I waved him over. We shook hands and exchanged a dude hug.
“How the hell are you, man? I thought you joined the Marines or something.”
He corrected, “Navy. I’m an NFO.”
I raised my eyebrows to ask what the fuck that was, and he clarified further. “Naval Flight Officer. I fly planes and shit.” I nodded in understanding.
He ordered a coffee from our smoking waitress and began his story. “I was in California when everything started going to shit, and I spent a few weeks flying through the southern part of the country looking for survivors. I was on my way here and landed in Huntsville to save a couple of people.”
That’s depressing. He went around the country and only found two people?
“You’ve got a crew though, right?”
“Yeah, I started with about twenty servicemen. It doesn’t look like a whole lot of civilians made it. At least not in the Southwest or Southeast. And the radios have been basically silent for weeks.”
“So have you run into any blunatics?” I already kn
ew the answer.
He cocked an eyebrow. “‘Blunatics?’”
This was fun. “The peevies. That’s Gene’s word for them. I think it’s catchy.”
He nodded and I could tell this word would be falling into his vocabulary. “Yeah, I’ve seen some pretty fucked-up shit. I don’t think this is the place to talk about it.” His face grew dark and I didn’t want to go there now.
Damn. I decided going back to pre-apocalypse life would be easiest, a coping mechanism. “So what have you been doing since school?”
He immediately fell into the typical “old friend” routine. “Almost got a basketball scholarship to Alabama, but decided to join the Navy instead. Been Flying in Azrael 2 for a few years now.”
I had to interrupt. “Azrael 2?”
“That’s the AC-130 I got here on,” he explained.
Our conversation continued as if there had not been a zombie apocalypse and we were just former schoolmates. He had to have a pretty badass story on his survival and I was about to ask him for it when he looked at his wristwatch. “I gotta go; the crew is working on unloading stuff at the airport. Was good to see ya. Talk to ya later.”
“Alright man. You gotta give me your story sometime.” I could transcribe it like I had with Hammer’s and some of the other main protagonists.
He knew what I meant by story. “I was planning on sitting down and writing some memoirs or something.”
Memoirs? Damn, now that made me feel gay for calling my recordings a journal. Might as well start calling it a diary and draw hearts and flowers and butterflies in the damn thing!
☠☠☠
Exiting the barbecue grill, most of my walk was spent trying to come up with a good reason why the newlyweds should accompany me on my journey and coming up with absolutely nothing. Promising not to walk into a room without knocking, or keeping my head down whenever I do. Aka would never sail on a boat with me unless I was wearing a bell around my neck.
My thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from my walkie-talkie. “Mo. Gray Fox here. You ready? Over.”
I really need to take the time to think up a badass call sign. “Yeah Daddy. What’s up?”
“The Doc is here at the courthouse. Your presence is required. Over.”
What the hell would they want to talk about with me? I usually didn’t take part in conversations on governing, or the military and I didn’t have a damn clue about medicine. As The Hero I had to answer the call. “I’m just across the street. I’ll be right there.”
Walking across the courthouse parking lot, which was absent of vehicles other than my dad’s and the doctor’s Humvees, I could do nothing but shake my head in sadness. What the hell is wrong with me? Other protagonists have enough sense to use automobiles. Apparently I think the only way to get from here to there is to fucking walk like this is the Dark Ages.
I entered the building and made my way down the hall. There was only one sound to greet me. A loud crash. Followed by a shrill scream. “Sheesh-a-golly!”
That’s not even an exclamation, Mama. You could use something a bit more vulgar and adult like darn or dang. It’s even possible to go off the deep end and use a dirty word like shoot.
“Hey Mama. Daddy said he needed me.” I waved as I walked to his office door.
She looked up from the Rolodex she had dropped on the floor. She was surprised I would have recognized her through the vulgarity. “Yeah, he and Dr. George are in his office.”
Nodding my thanks to her for telling me what I knew anyway, I continued to move to the closed door on the other side of the office.
I gently drummed on the door.
“It’s open!” came from the other side.
I entered to see my dad and the cardiologist looking to me with shit-eating grins on their faces. I immediately glanced down for toilet paper stuck to my boot. “What?”
I couldn’t understand what was so funny. I was about to ask for more information when my father gestured. “I think you’re gonna wanna hear this.”
☠☠☠
Dr. George’s story was only occasionally interrupted by my uncomprehending stare, his exasperated sigh, and then a slow, over-enunciated repetition of what he had just said. The doctor basically told me that his country’s military had been made aware of a German doctor en route to Mobile, Alabama. This guy supposedly had a cure.
“Why Mobile? He couldn’t find a safe zone to land in?”
Daddy answered my question. “I asked the same thing. The Indians didn’t get his transmission until he was rounding Florida. By that time it was too late to get anyone out there.”
“You’re shitting me! They are sending the only person in existence with the knowledge to save humanity to Ground Zero on a fucking boat? I thought Germany had airplanes or at least zeppelins. What’s he got, Gestapo bodyguards armed with bolt action Mausers?”
My dad had played Medal of Honor as much as I had. He knew exactly what I was talking about and smiled. “Yeah, I was thinking that. But maybe this Werner von Spiegel ain’t the only one who knows how to make the stuff. I know Germans are European, but that doesn’t automatically make them stupid … I hope.”
As you can see, my father has the same opinion of most Europeans as myself. I was surprised when The Medicine Man nodded his likemindedness. “Maybe they’re not as bad as the British or the French.”
That was shocking. I had always placed basically every foreigner on the same team against Americans, but apparently you could be bigoted even if you were a minority. I’m not saying Dr. George was racist. Anyone can think anyone is stupid, it just seems odd to call someone a bigot if they are nonwhite. Am I racist for having that thought? It’s a good thing I have such a shitty memory, I’ll forget to mention that to Smokes!
“So, did they make it to Mobile?”
The Phantom doctor grew somber. “We don’t know. We lost contact with them somewhere to the northwest of Cuba.”
I threw my hands up. “What the fuck? Were they using a rowboat and a fucking Little Tykes radio? Jesus, Raul Castro is probably shoving a high-pressure hose up this German’s ass in a communist prison!”
Dr. George held up a hand to forestall my bitching. “I know it seems bad, but we cannot assume the worst until we go see for ourselves.”
I nearly fell out of my chair when I realized why I had been called. “Wait. You want me to take the Cora down there? I could be killed by Communists or …” I paused to think up something else deadly. “Sharks!
My dad cut in. “I figure at least a couple of the crew will go with you and …”
“And I along with a couple of the HITS will join you,” finished The Medicine Man.
Hold the hell on! Benji has a fucking flying fortress. I’m pretty sure we could get down to wherever the hell we are going in a lot less time if we just flew. This probably would’ve been a good suggestion to make during this meeting and there’s really no point in writing it now in my journal.
Well shit, this wasn’t actually so bad. I was going to get what I wanted, save The Oracle’s cousin Busta and get a few trained guns to tag along besides my personal senior citizen!
I attempted to hide my growing smile. “That might not be so bad; I need to try out my sea legs …”I stopped. “Wait! Can anyone besides Aka operate the dams?”
My dad’s grin was wide. “Not good enough to travel down the river for this mission.”
“Then how do you expect me to …” My question trailed away as I came to understand what he was about to say.
He picked up. “That’s the next person you are going to go see!”
16
Memoirs of Benji 1
Naval Base, Ventura County
MAY 1ST WAS the day the world stood still. Having just landed in California after my round-the-world trip several times over, I was allowed a day off and was sleeping late after getting back on April 30th. I had been tasked to fly to Germany and deliver a team of cardiovascular surgeons. I left six of them in Germany. I then took t
he other six to South Korea. After that, I flew back to Germany, picked up those surgeons plus a couple more, and some weird-looking equipment, and took it back to the NVBC. I was fucking exhausted.
I had been sleeping late in the barracks and remained thankfully uninterrupted. I had not heard the radio or watched the news all day and was surprised when I had my first human contact of the day.
“Zombies are real!” Devin greeted me with the strangest thing I had ever heard. It didn’t take him long to convince me he spoke the truth.
Apparently, there was some sort of sickness spreading from Los Angeles or somewhere. Something similar had appeared in Florida or Alabama and somewhere in New England. My first thought was to call my mama and make sure my family was okay. This sickness was only transferable through body fluids and caused the infected to seemingly die and rise again. The risen began stripping naked, their skin became blue, and their eyes turned yellow. These people turned into ravenous animals and would attack anyone on sight. After a single bite, they completely ignored the person they were attacking and moved on to the next uninfected victim.
According to Devin, animals could not get the sickness, so the zombies didn’t stop after one bite with them. He described a video of a naked man tearing into the stomach of a small dog while the animal was awake. The zombie held the animal’s head back as it pushed its teeth into the furry belly. The dog screamed and tried to claw the former human as its organs spilled out around it. Blood and every other kind of fluid pooled around its back as its zombified owner devoured the steaming entrails coated in crimson blood.
I pulled my boots on. “Are they sure it’s not some kind of screwed-up drugs or something?”
Devin looked at me as if I was stupid.
Benji continued, “I’m pretty sure it’s worse than that. I remember a few years ago there was a story about some dude that got a high on bath salts, stripped naked, and started running down the road biting people. I think the cops had to shoot him in the head or something.”
