Authors: Raymund Hensley
I opened the door.
“
We're saved!”
He ran to Seria and embraced her.
“
My love! I heard what was
happening via televised news. I have returned....”
She stirred awake.
“
Gold Mouth....Is it really
you?”
“
Yes, my love. Where's Nikki?
Where's our daughter?”
Seria looked at Nikki's dead body, then to me, then to Capt. Gold
Mouth.
Seria cried in his arms.
“
They
got her! Jesus,
Gold Mouth, they ate her up! God!”
She lost her mind. She wept like her legs were being sawed off. The
captain hugged her and looked at me. Determination crossed him.
“
Let's get out of here.”
He tossed me his extra curved pirate sword. We joined his crew and
massacred zombies as we made for the front door. Outside the fitness
center, the cops had their hands full with zombies and pirates. The
captain's ship – floating in the air by a large balloon –
fired its cannons and blew up tanks and helicopters. A cannonball hit
a cop. I covered my face from the splash of blood and meat. Ropes
fell in front of us. We grabbed on and were pulled up onto the
airship. Cops shot at us as we floated away. The zombies jumped on
them and made their bellies full.
I saw Lord Womp, surrounded by piles of dead bodies, throw his empty
gun at us and hop around with a passion, shouting profanities at us.
When we reached the ocean, the captain gave the order, and the ship
detached from the giant balloon.
We splashed onto the water and sailed off into the sunset.
CHAPTER THREE
A Pirate's Life For Me
We lived on the sea with Capt. Gold Mouth for a year, joining him on
many adventures. He married Seria on the ship. I watched the ceremony
from far away, scrubbing the floors. That was my job – cleaning
– and I wasn't complaining. The captain paid me in booze. It
was ironic, because a lot of the time I was mopping up my own
drunk-vomit.
Capt. Gold Mouth prepared us for a great raid. We were going to land
on an island called Vagar. He said it was filled with zombies, but if
we could just slice and dice through, we'd be treated to all the gold
we could carry. We agreed to do it. Capt. Gold Mouth was skeptical
that I could manage. I told him not to worry – that I did just
fine back at Sweat Zombies. He gave in and let me come along. Once we
got on shore, all shit got loose. The walking dead were all over us –
running out of the woods, falling from the trees, goddamn popping up
from the sand like Jack in the Boxes. There were too many of them.
I'm ashamed to say I panicked and
ran into the ocean, toward the ship, tripping and swallowing water as
I went. I looked behind me and saw our captain biting off zombie
hands and feet and faces with his gold teeth. It was amazing. I went
back to make up for my cowardice, but it was all over. Three people
died. We got all the treasure we could and got out of there before
rivaling ships stopped us. The captain never again let me come along
on missions. People died because of
me
– because of my mental weakness. Depression set in. Hidden deep
in the ship, I'd drink a variety of wine coolers and stuff my black
hole with a plethora of meats.
Over the months, I started gaining massive weight. The crew hated me.
They saw me as a morbidly obese coward, not fit to even be a janitor
on a pirate ship. They complained to the captain that I was eating
all their food and slowing the ship down. It was true. I had let
myself go to the point of ridiculousness. My clothes got too tight,
so I had to start wearing giant sacks. Sometimes when I walked around
mopping the floors, my feet would fall through the boards. It was
embarrassing. And still, I ate. I loved the taste of food and drink.
I gave myself to them – to my lovers.
All those days at the fitness center...for nothing.
I'd go to sleep at night, worried. Was I worthless? Was the crew
devising a plan to get rid of me? What was Capt. Gold Mouth planning
to do with me? What was next? Was my mind playing tricks on me?
Should I do everyone a favor and kill myself? Should I drink myself
to death?
Maybe I should stop going to bed drunk.
The Demon was getting to me.
Near the end of the year, Capt. Gold Mouth made another mission
announcement. We were heading for Warui Island, in Japan. Legend had
it that in the heart of the mountains was a giant skull of a
Tyrannosaurus rex. Inside it was a giant diamond. If we could get
through the Asian natives, it was ours. Did we want to go? Everyone
raised their swords into the air and cheered. I did, too. Everyone
looked at me and scowled. I put my arms down and looked sad.
We sailed away....
Right when the island was in sight, a ship started shooting its
cannons at us. Wood exploded all around me. Bodies were shredded by
splinters. My ears rung. Our captain ran around and shouted at us to
do this and do that. Seria wanted to know who was firing on us. He
said it was Lady Rino Watashi, the Japanese killer of foreigners. Her
ship rammed into ours, breaking us in two. Rino's crew of wailing,
all-girl pirates dressed like lawyers waved around their swords and
jumped us. They were experts in slaughtering foreigners.
I jumped into the ocean and watched as the ships – all at once
– fired their cannons. Everything blew up in an amazing display
of smoke and fireworks and bodies and treasure. I ducked and swam
down to protect myself from the debris. I headed for the island. A
shark came at me like a torpedo. Remembering what I saw on a
documentary once, I punched the shark in the face. It hovered there
for a second, shook the cobwebs out of its head, then shrugged and
swam away.
I lived on that shore for two days,
eating raw fish and sleeping on the sand. One night, I heard a crash
in the woods. I investigated, spear in hand. I saw a native child
caught under a coconut tree. She looked like a young Elaine....At
first she was afraid of my amazing bulk, but she calmed down when it
was clear that I was gonna help her. I reached under the tree and did
all I could to lift it off. Natives ran in screaming and blew darts
at my arms. I didn't care. My only concern was freeing
her
.
She spoke in Japanese to her friends to stop screwing around. They
apologized and joined in and helped me. Together, we got that tree
off of her.
Carrying her on my shoulder back to their village, I became a hero.
They sucked the poison out of my arms and put a crown onto my head. I
learned to live with them. At first, I communicated by pointing at
things and grunting. Eventually, I learned a few basic words. To earn
my keep, I gave people massages. I guess all those years typing gave
me expert fingers. The natives were always very grateful and kept
putting food into my mouth. Then things got bad....
One time, I was on a hunt with some of the boys. We saw a cow.
Wanting to show off my skills, I decided to kill it by myself. I
crept through some bushes and raised my spear. I stepped on a branch.
The cow looked up at me. What I saw shattered my brain. It was a
bewildered Elaine with a cow's body. I screamed like a girl and ran
through the woods. At the village, even the chickens had her face. I
ran around the place confused. I saw Elaine everywhere. Everyone from
the very old to the very young had her adult face. It was disturbing.
The local witchdoctor with the disgusting bone through his nose tried
explaining it to me, but I didn't understand 100%.
All I got was, “Poison...arms...death...home.”
I nodded.
“
Domo arigato.”
But if I had to guess, I'd say they
weren't able to get all the poison out of my system. The stuff worked
its magic....My brain rotted. The sickness had me, and I started
throwing up weird worms that would chase after me. My eyesight
failed. My legs got weak. My skin turned green. My tongue was black.
All my teeth fell out, and I think I even swallowed some. Each day, I
was losing an amazing amount of weight, and yet, I kept eating every
chicken and cow in sight – raw. After a year, I was a walking
skeleton wrapped in skin. I had a long, gray beard that covered my
nude bits. People were afraid of me. Called me a zombie. They'd point
and scream, “Kyonshi!” and run away. Eventually, the
entire village relocated to the other side of the island. I was alone
– just me on a log, staring into a fire. And then I
heard
her.
Elaine.
She was calling for me.
Body aching, I jumped up, feeling like I had aged a hundred years. I
walked around, begging, “Where are you?”
“
The ocean,” she said,
words echoing. “Find me there. Please. I miss you. I love you.”
A new energy filled me. I used a stick as a cane and walked into the
ocean and swam off. Something was coming for me...something up ahead.
Whatever it was got closer...faster and faster. It was her. Elaine.
Smiling over the water...coming at me like a torpedo.
I opened my arms and embraced her. Kissed her.
Mine forever. Finally.
Finally.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Raymund Hensley is the author of
Filipino Vampire
,
Get Kilt: A Zombie Pill
, and
Transdolphin
.
He lives in
Honolulu, Hawaii.
http://raymundhensley.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/RaymundHensley
https://www.facebook.com/RaymundHensley
BOOK PREVIEW
How I Met
Barbara The Zombie Hunter
One.
B
arbara was sitting
in her rocking
chair in the dark, nudity abound, covered by parrots. I asked as
politely as I could if it would be possible to take a picture of her
for the book, and she yelled something unintelligible and threw a
bird at me. It occurred to me then that it wouldn’t have
mattered how nice I asked.
She
apologized and said:
“
I
am the best at zombie hunting. I am the Master and Commander of
zombie hunting.”
Barbara
was a 30-year-old French woman who had just gotten her degree in
Graphic Design, from The University of Hawaii at Manoa.
She
had contacted me via my Gmail account, explaining how she had enjoyed
my book
Aloha Mannequins
,
and that I would be perfect to document her exploits as a zombie
hunter here in Honolulu, Hawaii. I was skeptical to say the least,
and didn’t email her back for the next six months. Finally, she
called my home phone and begged that I take the job – that she
would pay me as her sidekick, and that she was lonely.
Thinking that it would be an interesting idea for a
“possible” future book, and being very afraid, I
accepted. It helped that she was a Capricorn. I was always told that
Virgos got along well with that particular astrological sign. Being
more of a student of eastern astrology, I inquired what her Chinese
sign was, but she refused to tell me and hung up each time I asked.
To this day, I am still unsure how she had gotten a hold
of my email address, let alone my phone number.
After she took a shower to cleanse herself of bird mess,
she gave me a grand tour of her Waikiki apartment.
A chicken ran past.
I shrieked, mentally – but not physically, for I
did not want to insult my host.
Her hallway was covered with paintings that to me seemed
to date back as far as the 15
th
century. I asked if they were stolen. She simply laughed and shook
her head, and said
Yes
.
Barbara told me that they were portraits of zombie hunters and that
many are still with us – that they are in hiding for fear of
being ridiculed or arrested.
Many are in mental facilities.
At this point, she stopped walking and put her fingers
to her head, massaging her temples.
“
Mental institutions depress my face,” she
said. “And inflate my hate.”
And then she began to cry. Barbara turned around slowly
and held her arms out to me. Her face was a waterfall. Out of pure
pity, I nodded and walked up and gave her a hug.
She didn’t hug back. I think her eyes were open.
Hours later, I was in her parrot room, helping her cover
a number of cages with black sheets to silence them. She said that
the bird noises sometimes disturbed her – that some days it
sounded like tiny children were being hit with knives. I told her
that the parrots were rather silent and behaved since I had arrived.
She said that she could hear the noises in her
head
.
Two.
B
arbara had display
cases of various
zombie parts – “Trophies”, she called them. There
were eyes, fingers, parts of genitals (human and animal), tongues,
teeth, one nose, ears, flaps of skin, balls of hair, a 12 inch long
finger nail, blood with bits inside, a constipated intestine, etc.
All were in glass jars of yellow liquid. I asked her what this
strange liquid was, but she refused to tell me and stormed out of the
room.
An
hour later she would came back and tell me that it was a secret –
that only her and the “Church” knew.
I asked her what this “Church” was, but she
ran out of the room again, flailing her arms. When she returned
thirty seconds later, she was carrying a large photo album. She held
my hand like a child and walked me to the living room where we both
sat on the carpet, legs crossed.