Day 4 - Uninvited Guests

Uninvited Guests

I’m not sure what to make of all the activity last night. I started hearing noises as night fell and assumed it was some animals. The girls were restless and moaned against their gags. Their eyes followed me as I walked around the tiny camp. They may see me as a porterhouse with mushrooms and a side of merlot. But I like my rare ass uncooked and uneaten than you very much.

It started around oh-look-it-is-getting-dark thirty. The sun did that thing where it falls over the horizon and creates a stunning backdrop. The kind of thing you put on a vacation poster and show your clients at a travel agent office. You point at it and show your lover how wonderful it will be. Oh look baby, we can lay on the beach, drink margaritas and watch the sun fall. Then we can go back to our bungalow and jump around like spider monkeys before doing the nasty and passing out. Oh happy day!

Screw you paradise!

If I had, I don’t know, a live girl and some food to eat (NOT SEAFOOD!) I might be in a better mood. As it stands I can’t even look at my Zombie-Wilson without getting the urge to bash in her useless head. Her and that stewardess.  Why didn’t she listen when I told her to leave my girl alone.

She’s got that stare again, that dead look in her eyes. Christ! Why do I keep them alive?

I know, Diary, I know. Without them as a slight link to humanity I’m pretty much screwed. I can talk to a coconut I suppose. Paint a face on it and say Hi every morning. Maybe write it a sonnet and promise to whisk it away from all the hubbub of island life someday. But that won’t pay the bills when I get home. I need my girl so the world can see a real zombie. I need her alive so I can get rich!

So anyway, I heard some noises and sat around wondering if someone had finally come to rescue me. It seemed unlikely since I had been stuck out here for so long without the slightest human that was among the living. No boats or planes had been by. No helicopters making criss-cross paths. What the hell was I paying all this tax money for if the US Government can’t get their shit together lone enough to go looking for a missing citizen?

I got up and walked along the shoreline. There was a bunch of nothing, like usual. A whole bunch of it every direction I looked. Nope. No rescuers there. Just a bunch of humidity and bugs chirping away in the jungle.

So I walked a little farther and I could have sworn I heard wood clanking together. It was getting dark and it was too late to make out anything but big shapes in the twilight where the trees rose all around. I wanted to keep the fire in view. If I lost track of my base and darkness really fell I might never find my way back.  Then I would have to spend the night in the jungle. It may offer fun and games but I KNOW I am not welcome.

I walked along with the skills in silent walking I had learned on the first island. That is, I hit pretty much every stump, broken branch, fallen palm tree and loose rock on the entire goddamn island. I cursed every curse word I knew but quietly, under my breath. See, I’m learning.

I came to a break in the trees and saw a light in the distance. I looked back the way I had come but didn’t see much of my fire, barely a flicker. It could have been a firefly for all I knew. Oh great. Looks like I am going to be doing a lot of walking tonight after all.

I edged along the little path until I came to a huge rock. There was light all around in the distance so I moved as carefully as I could and only managed to hit three or four branches.

Voices! Movement! Noises! I was frozen in place, stuck like a lizard that suddenly attracts a predator. What if I had visitors on the island? What if they weren’t nice visitors that want to take me home?

What if they were cannibals?

Pffft. I could show them a couple of real man-eaters!

I stuck my head up, ever so slowly, until I could see over the rock. It was like looking into the sun. There was a huge ball of flame in the form of a bon fire and a bunch of half naked people dancing around. Men and women. They were dressed a lot like the islanders that had visited me on my first tropical get away. They wore shorts and no tops. Some had tribal shapes painted on their bodies and if I wasn’t seeing things there were even a pair of women. Real ones!

I was saved! I was saved at last! And they had real live women!

I could march into the firelight, proclaim that I was a lost survivor of a plane crash and that I needed to get home. They would stop dancing and welcome me! They would offer me food, fresh fruit, maybe some sort of meat cooked to perfection over their massive fire. Maybe one of them was a former culinary chef and he had a side of pork dripping with grease and pineapple chunks. I was suddenly starving, saliva flooded my mouth and I thought I was going to drool all over the rock.

But wait! What about my girl, I mean girls? What would I do with them? What would the islanders do?

Shit! Shit! SHIT!!! I would have to hide the girls and come back in the morning. I would have to make sure they weren’t discovered. And what if they wanted to stay on the island for a while? What then? Would they discover my zombie chicks or even the body of the dead pilot?

I stood for a long time, salvation just feet away and I knew that I couldn’t walk into their firelight. I couldn’t reveal myself just yet. I had to plan this out. I muttered to myself as I left my would be rescuers.

I wandered back to the camp in a daze and lay down in the darkness. The fire had smoldered to almost nothing. I dropped a small damp branch on and let it smoke away. The girls did their moan and groan shuffle while I tossed and turned. It was hours in the dark before I fell asleep on my uncomfortable bed. But just before I drifted off a plan had formed in my mind. As soon as dawn arrived I would put it into effect.
...

Can't get enough Zombie Wilson? Why don't you head over to Amazon and purchase a copy! All proceeds go to the author's tequila and beer sanity fund. Thanks!