Part 10 (2/2)

But then I would be a zombie underwater. How long could I walk around the bottom of the ocean before pressure smooshed me or some big predator ate me? I could see it now: walking around in circles for days when a big whale sees my undead a.s.s as a quick snack.

A zombie whale! That would teach some whale hunter. What would Captain Ahab have done if he was hunting Moby-f.u.c.king-zombie-whale? He probably would have cut his losses with the leg and gone back to being p.i.s.sed off at the world.

She clumped past me. I waved at her, but she didn't bother waving back. I threw a couple of pebbles at her, but she just kept on going. She stopped under the tree her husband was in and stared at the trunk for a while. Then she turned around and walked the other way, like she was a guard or something. She did this for a long time.

I wonder if she is worried about me leaving. Can she sense that this is our last day together? I went to her and took her hand to lead her to the stream. I might as well give her a farewell bath. I mainly splashed water on her, but she didn't even react. So I sat her down in the end of the stream and let the water rush over her for a while.

She looked at me with her one good eye, then snarled and snapped a few times. I washed her hair and even tried to use some sand to scrub it, but it didn't do much good. Besides, big clumps of it came out, and I had to toss them into the woods.

”Are you going to miss me?”

Snarl.

”I bet you are. I bet you are going to be so lonely.”

Snarl, snap, snarl.

I should write a country song about how my girl got her snarl back.

”I'll come back for you. Really, I will. I'll come back with a bunch of scientists, specialists and doctors, and we will do everything we can for you. Or bash in your head. I won't lie, though, baby. They might want to take you apart and slice up your brain.”

She just stared at me, so I helped her out of the water and let her dry as we walked. Her skin was so cold when I held her hand with its missing finger. The absence of the digit bothered me, so I took her other hand and led her back to the beach.

I was having second thoughts about bringing her with me. I didn't think it was a good idea to leave her. Without me, she would walk into the ocean within a couple of days, and then she would be lost forever-or until she walked out on some beach and started eating people. How would I prove my story?

I supposed I could tie her to the tree, which would make it a lot easier to find her when I came back. But I was almost out of rope, so if I tied her up, she would be on a really short chain, unable to move more than a few feet from camp. I doubted it would even work. She is a crafty little zombie. She has become the Houdini of the undead. It seems like every time I figure out a way to secure her to something, she figures out a way to escape.

I could tie her up in the tree so any potential predators wouldn't get her. But then I worried that birds might peck pieces out of her body. Not that there are a lot of birds around. But even one or two could do a lot of damage over the course of a month. Plus, they might turn into zombie birds. Yikes! They might carry the disease to some other city or country. Besides. How would I get her body up in a tree?

I already knew what I had to do. I just wasn't sure how to do it. I knew that I couldn't leave her here. I have known it for a while, but I didn't want to admit it. I had to take her. I had to figure out a way to drag her with me. I didn't have room on the raft, and how could I control her? If I tied her down and the raft came apart, then she might float away. I couldn't put her in the tail section. We couldn't both fit. Besides, she stinks and is falling apart. And I would have to spend all my time making sure she didn't bite me.

I went back to the raft and looked it over. It was so pathetic that I barely had room to move around, let alone carry her along with me. I walked the beach and dug up a few more clams near the water. I walked farther along the beach and thought I spotted a big sea cuc.u.mber thing. I waded into the water but gave up when I realized it was probably just a rock.

I wandered even farther but didn't find any treasure. This section of the beach just doesn't attract that many fish or crabs for some reason.

I heard talking-maybe chanting-and blamed it on the sun. h.e.l.lo, cruel heat. Why do you have to play mind games with my rapidly departing intellect?

I took a step toward the trees. Then another. The noise was getting louder, and I was starting to think it wasn't related to my scorched mind at all. I was hearing voices, and they weren't in my head!

Was I about to be rescued at long last? Here I was, all set to run myself out of Dodge, and the cavalry had finally arrived. That was just my luck. I heard a saying once that if it weren't for bad luck, you wouldn't have any luck. My luck was so bad it was trying to a.s.s f.u.c.k me while messing with my mind.

Another step and then I was in the bush. I moved toward the beach where the islanders had made landfall not so long ago. Or was it? Was that a week ago? A month? Twenty years? It seemed that long. Time wasn't really my friend here. When I was at the hotel, I sure wished time would stop.

Stupid time.

But back to the voices-the ones NOT in my head.

I stepped faster, sure footed like a bush hunter. If this was Africa, I would have purchased a cool hat and whip when I arrived. I might even have a leather jacket, because that's what the famous archeologist Dr. Jones wore. It might be a hundred and ten, but nothing broke his cool.

The beach was just ahead, and I was now able to make out movement. Not a mirage but people. A lot of people. More people than I had seen in weeks.

I should run out and greet them. I wish I had something to offer, like a tray of ice-cold coconut slices. What the f.u.c.k was I thinking? As soon as they saw me, they would probably try to kill me. I had chased them off last time, even if I didn't mean to.

I stood behind the leaves and watched the men get out of their boats. I was pretty sure it was the same visitors as before. They wore the same kind of clothes. I remembered the big boy with the tropical-print s.h.i.+rt. What, was it on sale at Village-R-Us?

They didn't look so happy go lucky this time. They looked irritated.

I was hoping my rescuers would arrive with food and beer. These guys were arriving with weapons. They had huge s.h.i.+elds made out of leaves woven tightly together. They were also building a whole stack of spears. Then one of them pulled out something different, something that looked like a blow gun. Or a really long pipe. If it shoots darts, then it is silent but deadly in a different way than the coconut-powered gas that I seem to emit on a regular basis.

Ah, s.h.i.+t. They were here, and they were here for me and her Highness. The princess zombie had finally drawn the attention of someone who could do something about her rotted state. I had to get off the island, but how could I make a run for it if they had those cool boats? They would be on me within minutes. Then it would be bye bye, zombie girl and bye bye, big Hollywood paycheck. And maybe bye bye, my life.

I needed a plan. I needed a way to distract them, a way to destroy the boats, and a way to get off the island without getting me and my girl filled with holes. There was no way I could be sure they would let me live. They might be savages, headhunters even! Maybe that was what they were after all along!

I took a few deep breaths and then went to retrieve her.

I led my girl along the well-worn path to the little lake I was so fond of spending my days in. My plan was pretty simple. I was going to hide her somewhere they would never think to look. Then I would go back and take care of them.

Just to be clear, I had no idea how I was going to take care of them.

I used some rope to tie her in a neat zombie bundle. With her hands at her sides and her legs tied together, I was able to tug her into the water. Now this may come as a surprise to you, oh dear Diary, but instead of sinking like dead weight, she floated. I dragged her corpse out to the center of the lake, took a deep breath and then swam for the bottom.

Once I had her on the floor of the lake, which was only seven or eight feet deep, I was able to drag a few large rocks to hold her down there. A few bubbles rose to the surface, but as I sank her, they stopped when her lungs were full of water.

It was time to put part two of my non-plan into effect. I was going to do what I did best.

I was going to hide.

Day 30.

My Girlfriend Hates Long Goodbyes.

Night fell. It fell hard ... I've always wanted to say that.

I found a nice little cubbyhole up above the waterfall. Not much s.p.a.ce, and it smelled like s.h.i.+t. Pretty sure an animal lives in here. I wish the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d had made it to my camp for a barbecue.

I pulled some giant leaves over the tiny entryway and waited. I heard the men stomping below and talking in some language that may as well have been French. I didn't understand a single word.

I resisted the urge to look at them, to peek between the leaves and see what they were up to. Of course they pa.s.sed my girl where she lay on the bottom of the lake. I hoped there were no piranhas or other carnivores in the lake. If she got eaten, I was not getting my movie deal!

So night fell, as I said. I waited and waited until the moon was as high in the sky as I have ever seen. I crept out to the camp the islanders had made and found them pa.s.sed out, surrounded by these wooden containers that must have had booze in them. It turns out the blow gun was not a gun at all. It had a pipe end that was filled with something black. What were these guys up to?

To make matters worse, a few of the flowers lay limp next to the giant pipe. Holy s.h.i.+t! Were they smoking the zombie berries? If they all woke up dead and howling for blood, I was so far beyond f.u.c.ked it made my head spin.

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