Part 9 (1/2)

”No!” I yelled and dashed in.

I grabbed the spear and pulled back as hard as I could. Sonofab.i.t.c.h! I was p.i.s.sed beyond words. I could see the foot in his mouth before he crunched down on it. He snapped once more and then the foot was gone. I waited until he thrashed his head the other way and then jabbed the spear into his eye again, this time with everything I had. It went in, past some stuff that crunched. It didn't move as fast this time, so I kicked the end of the spear, and it slid in about a foot.

He slowed down but didn't stop moving, so I grabbed the handle and turned it like I was beating eggs. Scrambled zombie shark brain, yum yum. The big creature shuddered and then his head flopped down on the beach.

She lay on her back, staring at the sun, completely unconcerned that she had just lost her foot.

I looked at the stub of a leg, and it wasn't bleeding. Just had some stringy stuff hanging out of the end. No blood, no mess. I picked her up and plopped her over my shoulder. Huffing and puffing from the physical exhaustion of battling the zombie shark, I went back to camp so I could call it a night. Time to see how much rum is left in the bottle.

Day 26.

My Girlfriend Beats Me Up.

I tied her to the tree last night, and she didn't complain-she never does. When morning arrived, it was a blast of sunlight that left my head throbbing like I was inside a large bell. A large bell like they put on churches and then ring to announce stuff like death. I think it rang eight million times for all the brain cells I killed last night.

Maybe it isn't such a great idea to drink myself into oblivion on the island. Not like I can afford another night like that. I am almost out of booze anyway. I polished off the rum and threw the bottle at her as I ranted about missing Ally and how a stupid zombie girl can't do a d.a.m.n thing for me. I feel bad about it now, really guilty. I should make it up to her. Too bad I don't have some fresh husband to feed to her.

She hissed at me as I got close. Her lips drew back around the blue strip of cloth, but her eye stared past me. I stroked her stringy hair and told her I was sorry for throwing the empty bottle at her. I don't think I hit her, but maybe it did. I heard it thunk off something. I looked around for it, but it must have flown into the bushes.

I grabbed her leg and looked at the ragged wound. It was festering already. The skin was gray and puffy, but also dried out. A couple of bugs were working the flesh, so I squashed them. That was going to be a big problem if I didn't take care of it. I didn't have a hard time imagining the things that might work their way under her flesh and make a home.

The skin was rotted; there was no doubt about it. It was putrid and black and smelled terrible. When I was a kid, I had a cut on my foot I was scared to tell my mother about. When it got really bad and leaked pus, it had a similar smell. I wondered if she'd be okay if I wrapped the stump.

I didn't know how she was going to get around either. I guessed she would have to crawl everywhere. That was going to be a pain in the a.s.s when it came time to bathe her at the pool. I might have to carry her stinky a.s.s there. GROSS!

Diary, I really hate that I can't bring myself to just put her out of her misery. She is so pathetic. Yet every once in a while, that blue eye looks into mine and I feel overwhelming pity for her. She has been the only thing on the island I can relate to. Well, besides the booze. Although that isn't much of a relations.h.i.+p. Unless you call indulging too much and feeling like s.h.i.+t the next day a good relations.h.i.+p. Kinda like a night of crazy s.e.x where your girlfriend wants to try new things. Things you don't like so much.

I dragged her to the fire by her feet. I mean by her foot. I figured that any kind of wrapping wouldn't last long and would smell even worse in a day or three. I needed to stop the rot while I could. The thing was oozing brown pus, and when some of it dripped on my pants, I decided I would have to burn the d.a.m.n things.

I tugged her closer to the flame and stoked it up by blowing on it and feeding it a little bit of wood. She kept trying to get up, but I pushed her back down. It wasn't hard. I have seen two year olds who are more coordinated than she is.

I pulled her closer, got a look between her legs and regretted it. I really needed to clean that stuff up. I hoped I had some alcohol left-for me, not her.

I blew on the flame a little more and dragged her closer. She got a look at the flame and tried to back up like a weird three-legged crab. I held her, but she thrashed against me. Her gross leg came up, smacking me across the face pretty hard. My ear rang immediately, and the side of my face went numb. I fell to the side, freaking out because that c.r.a.p that was oozing out of her leg was now on my face.

I wiped at it with the sleeve of my s.h.i.+rt, but it didn't do any good. I could still feel the goop on my cheek. I rolled back up and made a grab for her, because she was sliding across the sand on her a.s.s. I pulled her back and clamped my arm over her leg and wrestled her close to my body. There was no way she was going to get the best of me.

She thrashed around as I tugged her leg into the fire. Her other leg hit my head, and I almost became the one in the flames. I heard bells this time, and I think I saw stars. I turned to make another grab, but I was slowing down. This time her flailing foot caught me upside the temple and I went over.

I don't know how long I lay on my side, gasping in air and sand. Everything seemed out of focus when I opened my eyes, like I was seeing things through a tunnel.

Sand? Check.

Palm trees? Check.

p.i.s.sed-off zombie chick? Check.

I rolled to my left as she fell on me. She landed on my side, and her arm drove into my stomach. Jesus Christ! She was kicking my a.s.s and she wasn't even trying hard!

I rolled a couple of times, but the pain from the hangover and from getting kicked in the head-repeatedly-left me unable to get any air past my lips and into my lungs.

I staggered to all fours. She came down on me again, this time with her hand looped over my neck just like yesterday when she tried to attack me during the shark killing. She was heavier than I remembered, but it was probably just from feeling so beaten down.

I managed to get a breath and then shrugged her to the side. I fell on top of her this time, and when I did, a bunch of weird sounds came out of various parts of her body. The stench of rotting meat hit me like a weight. I gagged and threw up all over her back. How long had she been building up all those ga.s.ses? Holy s.h.i.+t, it smelled worse than death. Worse than Lenny Cansta, a kid I used to go to middle school with who had the worst farts of any single person I have ever known. He once cleared out wood shop with a ripper that put the band saw to shame. Even the teacher looked green.

This was worse!

I wanted to scream at the sky. I managed to wipe some of the puke off my face, grabbed her leg in a tight grip, and dragged her to the fire before she could protest any more. I stuck her stump in and pressed it against a flaming log. The smell of cooking meat, seared and burning, hit my nose. I couldn't help it. I started drooling.

She went crazy, but it wasn't from pain. Ever since the first night I found her, she was terrified of fire. Weird that such a primal urge would survive her changing into this undead thing. She couldn't have any brain cells left, and it made me wonder if she was able to feel anything else. Like a sense of loyalty to the guy who has saved her a.s.s more than once.

She scrambled away from the fire with her leg trailing smoke. She tried to stand, but it was a wasted effort as she fell flat on her face. I noticed that more of those patches of skin were appearing on her body, and dragging her hadn't helped. Some flesh hung loose, as if the dead skin cells were getting together and planning to mutiny and escape from her body.

I walked to the pool in a daze. When I reached it, I got my clothes off and collapsed. I wiped zombie pus off my head, then dunked my head to let the moderately cool water soak into my bones. It felt fantastic, so I stayed in the water for what seemed like hours. I napped by the side of the pool on the soft sand, and air blew over my body, cooling it for a few minutes before the heat started beating at me again.

My face hurt, and I could feel lumps from where she'd kicked me. My reflection in the water showed I had a black eye and one of my cheeks was puffed out. She got me good, but in the end, I managed to stop the rot. Score one for me!

I had to hunt, of course. When I walked to camp to find some fresh clothes, she was still trying to stand up ... and falling down over and over again. I couldn't help it. I pointed and laughed. Petty of me? Maybe, but that's how I was feeling. It wasn't being beat up by a girl that bugged me. It was being beat up by a zombie girl.

I headed to the beach with my rock tool and stopped at the plane tail section. She crawled behind me, but at the rate she was going, it would probably take her an hour to catch up. She still growled and snarled behind her gag. b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h, b.i.t.c.h. No amount of whining was going to help her at this point.

I was checking out the end of the plane section. It was open. The cap-or whatever goes back there-had come off. This part of the plane was pretty good sized. I thought that I could sleep in it if I rolled it over and got the big gaping holes down. Better yet, maybe I could use it to construct a raft. I could mount the piece between a couple of logs and use the hatch to get in and out. It would keep me dry. I might even be able to sleep in the thing. I would need a larger hole in the back to tie everything to, though.

I stomped on the cap a couple of times, and it flew off with a crack. I looked at the opening and figured it should be okay. I would need to punch holes in it so that I could get the rope and parts of the straps in.

I went to the beach and dug up some clams, then fished for oysters and starfish. I saw what I thought was a lobster, but the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d had huge claws, and my spear was still stuck in the twice-dead shark. I bet shark tastes good when you are starving. Too bad I won't find out.

I was coming back out of the water when I spotted her crawling across the sand. She was leaving a group of bushes. Big-bladed things that I hated. I got into a patch of them once and had to back out slowly. The serrated edges were sharp enough to cut me in two.

She came out with scratches all over her body. Oh G.o.d, those would never heal. I think I need to start dressing her in normal clothes again. I do have that floral-print dress, but it was made for a girl a lot bigger than her tiny frame. I fought a mammoth zombie-husband in it and won. She might like wearing something that stinks like him.

I needed to make something for the foot so she could get around. I sniffed my oysters as I walked back to camp, and when I went past the tail section, I had a great idea!

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 f.l.a.n.g.ed 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 d.a.m.n French fries would cap off that meal. While I'm dreaming, again, I may as well dream of biscuits and a hot fudge f.u.c.king 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.