Part 8 (2/2)

Shark! It was a freaking shark!

I backed up another step and slipped on a slimy rock. This explained a lot. No wonder there wasn't anything to hunt. Everything got the h.e.l.l out of the way before it arrived. I took one more step before panic set in. I lifted the spear above my head and ran, in slow motion thanks to the drag of the water, back to sh.o.r.e.

I could feel the b.a.s.t.a.r.d bearing down on me as I tried to swim-run my way through the water. I let out a couple of screams that I'm sure sounded less than manly. I looked behind me and the fin had rolled over on the other side. Was the shark drunk? He came at me, pa.s.sed by and hit the reef at a really fast rate. His fin flew up as he came to a stop.

I made it to sh.o.r.e and clawed my way up the beach, just like I did the first day here. Deja-d.a.m.n-vu. I collapsed and stared at a pair of nasty gray feet that had stopped just in front of my face.

She was standing in front of me. staring at the water. I followed her gaze to the giant gray shark that flopped around like he was drowning on air. He really was gray, like a weird shade. I know sharks are gray and all, but he was almost a patchy color like ...

I got to my feet and took a step toward the thing. I wondered if I could kill and eat him before she bit him. That would be cool. How bad could shark steaks be? He flopped a lot more like a ... well, I was gonna say like a fish out of water. Oh haha! I am so d.a.m.n funny today. Is that what they call irony?

He lifted his upper body in the air and brought it down hard. A piece of something flew out of his mouth and hit the sand in front of me. What the h.e.l.l? It looked like part of a hand. Wow, man killer indeed.

I stared at the partial fingers and got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I took another step toward the shark and stared into its eyes, which should be big and spooky, right?

Isn't that how sharks look? Like they are ready to eat you at any moment?

No ...

I looked closer, even got a few feet away and crouched down.

It reared up again, and I could see that it had no eyes. They were eaten away in the socket. Both of them were just stringy c.r.a.p like weird jellyfish. I fell back on my a.s.s and stared at the mouth that kept snapping at me just like a certain girl on my little chunk of paradise.

Jesus f.u.c.king wept.

I didn't just have a zombie shark. I had a BEACHED zombie shark.

I wonder if there is a cliff around that I can jump off.

Day 25.

My Girlfriend Sucks.

Hi, Diary!

Look, another day and I am still alive on this cursed island. I can't believe I once found this place beautiful. If I ever make a million dollars, I am going to use the money to firebomb this hole back into the ocean. I hate it here, I H A T E it. I hate everything about this pit of despair. The heat, the humidity. I don't think living in a sauna is the ideal life. No siree-bob.

Don't even get me started on the d.a.m.n zombies. So a girl was bad enough. I mean, I could find humor in it. Laugh at her as she fell down-a lot. When I first found her body, she was still pretty good looking. I mean, I wouldn't do her. That would be sick and wrong. Right? But she was better than looking at palm trees. Know what I mean? I got to play dress-up, treat her like my doll, make fun of her, paint her face like a clown. That was a fun day, clowning around with my pet zombie.

And now I have a zombie shark to worry about.

I went to the waterfront and looked at him. He was so pitiful, stuck on the sh.o.r.e with his tail flapping up and down. He should be dead. Scratch that; he is dead. Undead. What sick G.o.d comes up with a zombie shark? Seriously, if I had a s.h.i.+p right now, I would take this thing back to civilization just like they did King Kong, and I would sell him to some circus owner. Then they could have my girl and make a whole zombie circus. Maybe I could run it. I'd call it the ”circus zombies of the d.a.m.ned,” because that is what I am. d.a.m.ned on this stupid rock.

He snapped at me even though I was standing a good twenty or thirty feet away. He just snapped over and over again like I was right in front of him. He had these giant teeth, and they were surrounded by some weird gummy green c.r.a.p like seaweed that had gone bad.

I cleaned up my girl, but the only plans I had for this thing was to kill it.

I had the spear, and I was ready for war. Again, sorta. Like the day her husband came back to the island. That day sucked. I had a feeling this day was going to suck worse. I was lost in thought when I felt her hand on my shoulder. I just about jumped out of my skin!

She had crept right up on me and looped her hand up over my hand to grab my neck. I stumbled back into her, and we went down in a heap. She had the gag on, so I wasn't that worried about being bit. She still managed to get her mouth near my ear and was making disgusting noises as she tried to bite it. A rotten smell hit me, and I was reminded of cleaning out a refrigerator after something has gone bad and sat for months.

The noise was worse, like a bite and inhale at the same time. Her lips touched my neck and I lost it. It sounded like she was trying to give me a hickey. Yep, my girlfriend sucks. I tore her arm from around my neck and came to my feet. She lay there with her legs spread, and I tried like h.e.l.l not to look between them. I was afraid of what I would see, afraid of what she might have been up to in the middle of the night.

Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, there were indeed things down there, moving around-things that looked like some kind of larvae. I was going to have to clean them up. Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d! G.o.d d.a.m.n it!

I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the spear and stomped across the hot sand, which was like walking through a layer of Silly Putty. The shark waited for me with a vacant look in his eyes. Vacant because he had no eyes. It wouldn't be untrue to say he didn't know what he was in for. Not that it mattered. They probably rely on smell like in the shows on TV where they dump a bucket of blood in the water and the sharks come racing.

His eyes were dried out and looked like hollow sockets. Weird stuff still hung there, but it was dry and looked like string. He curled his body as I walked along beside him, and tried to get a bite of me. I wasn't interested in that. I liked my legs right where they were.

The tide was rolling in, and I could see waves for a change. Usually it was pretty calm here. Don't know why I haven't attempted to build a raft and sail away yet. Probably because I don't know the first thing about making a waterborne craft. If I could do that, then I would have left weeks ago. Probably been swept away to sea, drowned. Nah, I was much safer on the ground.

Then again, I had the tail section from the plane. Maybe I could use that. I have some netting from inside the section and a lot of logs. I could build a small cover out of palm trees and sticks. I would have to leave her behind, of course. Probably wouldn't have to go far. The visitors to my little slice of paradise probably came from somewhere nearby. I would probably reach another island in a matter of hours. Maybe half a day. If I sailed past one, there had to be others after it. Or so I reasoned.

I actually looked around the immediate area for stuff to build a raft with. There were a lot of small logs and some other debris, like sticks I could use for the raft if I decided to make one. I should use a piece of paper and try to draw out what I want to do. Or at least make a guess at what I'm going to make. I'm no artist, despite my stick-figure artwork, eh, Diary?

Ally is going to get such a kick out of the pictures I have drawn. I might have to get rid of a few of them, since they are racy. I hope she doesn't get too mad about me dressing the zombie up like a hula girl. She will be mad about a lot of stuff. I should maybe hide this diary, but what about the Hollywood guys who will want to hear my amazing tale of survival against all odds, against all zombies. What if Oprah wants me on her show? What if I have to talk about all the stuff I have done?

Well, that's in the future. My immediate concern was killing a zombie shark.

I walked around him on both sides. He smelled worse than she did, and she smelled like death. He had a definite stench from the sea, but it also reminded me of the time someone pulled a prank on me at work. They hid an open can of tuna behind my desk, and as it rotted, it smelled a little worse each day. After a few weeks, I wasn't able to go into my office and had to call the maintenance guys to hunt around for the source.

I didn't know who did it. Probably Derek from IT. The guy hates me for some reason. I call them a lot for all the viruses and stuff my machine gets, but that is no reason to do something so mean. Well, I bet they are missing me now. I just bet they are. I do all the accounting on the office supplies, so without me, they are probably out of coffee, and they can kiss bagel Friday goodbye.

The surf was picking up, bas.h.i.+ng away at the reef, but I had time before it was far enough in to suck the b.a.s.t.a.r.d back out to sea. I would have to kill him while I had the chance. Kill him again. Just eating the dead guy's hand killed him and brought him back, or zombified him. Whatever I am supposed to call the d.a.m.n disease. Did that mean it would do the same to me? I was pretty sure I had gotten parts of the husband in my mouth when we fought. I was covered in c.r.a.p after that, and it took me a while to wash it off. Was the zombie virus racing through my body?

I felt fine. I felt as healthy as could be expected, given the circ.u.mstances. If I turned into one of them, I was going to be really p.i.s.sed.

I took the spear and stabbed at the shark. I hit the side of his head, and it went sideways, cutting a big slice in his cheek. Tough sucker. He turned his dry head toward me and snapped a few times.

I tried again but this time drove it in harder. Once again the spear slid along his cheek and did little damage. I lifted the spear and then smacked him on the head. There ya go. Bad shark, die!

He didn't care for that one bit, so I tried again with the stabbing. I ran to the other side and drove the spear into his eye socket. It went in, but the ma.s.sive gray head reared to the side and ripped the spear out of my hand. Ah, c.r.a.p!

She was back on her feet and, of course, picked that time to come at me. If it weren't for bad timing, she would have no timing at all. I had to dance out of the way of the swinging spear only to have her try to latch onto me. Christ! Caught between a zombie girl and a beached zombie shark. Why won't this thing die? Oh yeah ...

I pushed her off me, but she hung on, then fell. I backed up a step as she ended up on all fours. The shark popped his head around and the spear caught her right across the a.s.s, which sent her flying. Stupid shark, you don't hit my girl!

I tried to grab the spear but had to jump back because it came in too fast. She got up and staggered in a circle as if she couldn't get her bearings. Then she walked toward the shark with her hands out like she was going to eat him.

To my horror, he was big enough to get a bite of her. She went down as the spear caught her again. This time her legs went up in the air and her head smacked into the sand. Then she rolled to the side, got one foot up in the air and tried to stand, but the shark's mouth closed on her ankle and, just like that, snapped her foot off.

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