Zombie Island Read online

  ZOMBIE ISLAND

  Authored by

  Allen Gamboa

  Original Story by

  Jason Wright

  Dead Silent Publishing

  deadsilentpublishing.co.uk

  ZOMBIE ISLAND

  Story Copyright © Jason Wright

  Text Copyright © Allen Gamboa

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval system, without the written permission of the author and the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book contains a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s creation or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The moral right of the authors has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover artwork by Christian Bentulan

  Proof Read by Sue Mills and edited by Kirsty Richardson

  PENAL IS A FUNNY WORD

  1863 Cockatoo Island, Australia

  “Piss on it mate!” Fred ‘Captain Thunderbolt’ Ward grumbled as he dropped the trowel back into the bucket of wet cement mix. He wiped some sweat from his brow and pushed his damp hat back on his head. Scratching his patchy beard, Ward, a thin, tough as leather, horse thief, spat onto the hard ground. Fred Britten, who was working on the brick wall next to him, slopped some more cement on the small retaining wall and quickly placed a brick in place. The inmate crew were busy building a small wall to use as another guard post closer to the bay.

  “Keep workin’ Cap’n.” Britten said, mildly annoyed at his partner. Britten, who was a good two inches taller and stockier than his cellmate, continued his work on the retaining wall. “You don’t want Smiley on your back.”

  “Fuck Smiley.” Ward lowered his voice and glanced around, not really wanting to draw the attention of the big prison guard. Seeing the brutal jailer was watching others on the work crew, he stood straight up and glanced out across the bay toward Sydney. The blue-green water looked more than inviting in the hot afternoon sun. It would be so easy to run for the beach and dive into the cool ocean and freedom. Of course, the watchful eyes of the guards kept them in check. Ward knew of two men that had tried to escape and were caught. For their attempt at breaking out they had been beaten and tossed into the hole never to be seen again. No, Ward didn’t want any part of that.

  “Hey!” The six-foot-eight guard the convicts all called Smiley, because of the evil grin he always seemed to wear, shouted at Ward. “Get to work...Captain.” He said making sure to emphasise the sarcasm on the word ‘Captain’.

  “Sure, Boss.” Ward quickly nodded as he grinned to himself. The term Boss in inmate slang was not one of superiority but an insult. Stupid Sonofabitch. Most guards didn’t know that though. Smiley obviously was one of those. “Just got a crick in my back.”

  “Well Captain.” Smiley walked over to where Ward was working on the retaining wall. The tattooed, shaved head giant held the long wooden baton firmly in his oversized right hand. Ward winced at the sight of the club and Smiley’s use of Captain. The inmate frowned to himself. He couldn’t even remember why he had called himself ‘Captain Thunderbolt’. Oh yeah, it came to him. He’d been in Sydney with his wife Mary, and he’d taken her to see the awful play about the Viking Gods. Ward had fallen asleep several times during the horrid performance even with Mary pinching him awake every time he drifted off. It sounded quite silly now as he worked on the Warden’s damn wall but he really liked the part with Thor, God of Thunder. Maybe that was it. Who wouldn't want to be that powerful? Not some idiot out here in the sweltering heat with ten other petty criminals, rapists and dregs of society. Captain of what? A bloody rock that teased him with faraway visions of Sydney? The smack of the wooden baton in the meaty palm of Smiley’s hand brought him back to his senses. “Maybe a few whacks with Delores here will straighten out that crick?”

  “I feel better now Boss.” Ward gave the guard his best endearing grin and thought ‘what kind of twat names his baton?’ The big man smirked then glanced at another guard who stood several feet behind him carrying a rifle casually over his shoulder. “What says you Finn? Think ol’ Captain Thunder Bottom needs a taste of the wood?”

  “Leave him be Clarke.” Finn said, using the guard’s real name. Ward frowned at the sound of it, he always thought of the angry giant as Smiley. “We need all hands so we can get this wall done before the Warden gets on our ass.”

  “One less pair o’ hands won't make a bleedin’ difference.” Smiley said, staring down the smaller convict. It wasn’t the unsettling grin that bothered Ward, it was the eyes that weren’t smiling back that chilled him. Oh, that and the big fucking baton the giant kept smacking into his calloused palm.

  “Yeah, but then we gotta take him to the infirmary and it’s a whole lump o’ shite.” The wiry Irishman said as he walked over to the other guard. “I’m sure Cap’n Thunderbolt is more than happy to contribute more sweat for the wall.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am” Ward nodded happily at Finn, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the bigger man’s baton. Ward grabbed his trowel out of the bucket and began acting like he was hard at work. The younger guard had always been fairer and easier to deal with than his partner. “Sorry to bother you, Boss.”

  “See,” Finn, ignoring the slight that was aimed at the other guard, leaned in next to Smiley. “No problems.”

  “Oi.” The giant nodded still fixing his glare at the inmate. “I s’pose you’re right Finn. He ain’t worth gettin’ all winded over.” Smiley slowly turned back toward the other guard. “Watch yourself Cap’n.” The giant winked as he pointed Delores in the convict’s direction and walked off to harass some other prisoner down the line.

  “Yeah,” Ward nodded as he glumly spread more wet cement across the brick and said in hush tones. “I really need to get out of here.”

  “We...we need to get out of here,” Britten whispered.

  “Fat lotta that, mate.” Edward Johnson, a burly Scottish rapist, grumbled. The pockmarked red-head scratched his dirty face and blew a wad of snot out of his nose. “Ole Smiley there would put you down in o’ heartbeat.”

  Ward frowned at being careless and overheard by the obviously soap phobic convict. “I was just talking out o’ my ass.”

  “Why is that any different than any other day Cap’n?” The black toothed Johnson chuckled and went back to work loading bricks into an old wooden wheelbarrow. Ward noticed the man had given his backside an uncomfortable, lingering look.

  “Watch your back with that one.” Britten said lowly as he tilted his head in Johnson’s direction. “I hear he’ll bugger anything that has a hole in it.”

  “And you wouldn’t?” Ward grinned.

  “Hey mate, we’re talking ‘bout receivin’ not givin’.” Britten smirked. “Now givin’, that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

  “Shut your gobs.” John Mort, another prisoner whispered. “We’re lucky we ain't all in leg irons.”

  “Piss off.” Ward told the other man as he watched for the guards. Turning to grab another brick he caught the big Scottish convict lewdly grinning at him. “Britten, we really need to get out of here.”

  “I hear ya, Mate.” Britten shook his head as Johnson winked at them both. “The sooner the better. I prefer to leave here with my bum not destroyed by some kilt wearing giggle mug.”

  “Well, we stay here any longer and it looks like you and the Scot will be ‘doing the bear’ real soon.” Britten cringed at Ward’s use of the slang for courting.

  “No one e
scapes here. If ya don’t drown the bleedin’ sharks will get ya.” John Mort said as he leaned in between the two. “You’re mad if you think you can.”

  “Did I ask you John Mort?” Ward said, clearly irritated at the other man and himself for speaking aloud. “I was just running my mouth. I know there is no way off this bloody rock. More like to be granted a pardon than escape this damn place.”

  “No chance of that.” John Mort said returning to his work. “You ain’t the ‘paper man’ kind, Ward.” The convict told him using the term for a prisoner granted a conditional pardon. “Second termers don’t get shite.”

  Ward let out of a sigh of frustration and he angrily slammed a brick down so hard on the wall that it drew Smiley’s unwanted attention. Grinning, the prisoner shouted over to the giant guard. “Was heavier than I thought. Sorry.” The guard just gave his ever-present evil grin and dropped the baton down into his meaty palm. Ward picked up another brick, stepped right next to Britten and whispered in his ear. “I have a plan in place already. You can come if you like.”

  “Yes.” Britten said quietly, trying to maintain his excitement. “Of course.”

  “We will talk about it tonight.” Ward said putting his finger up to his own lips and returning to the brick wall. Britten grinned with new hope that he would leave the hell hole of an island with his buttocks intact.

  FIRST IMPRESSIONS SUCK

  Female convicts were housed in a separate cell block on Cockatoo Island. Superintendent Mann had always tried to keep a secure division between the two genders. It was hard enough to maintain discipline with the issues at hand, throw in a distraction and the problems always multiplied. A new group of female inmates had just arrived on the island and were being herded toward the big two-story brick and stone cell block building. Smiley stood smoking a cigarette as he watched with bored interest as the island’s newest prisoners made their way to the intake cells. The big guard noticed one of the women was struggling with Gaffney, one of the older female matrons. Smiley always like a good fight. Ditching his smoke, the bully grinned and loped over to where the group had stopped outside the intake office.

  “Gaffney, you need some ‘elp there luv?” Smiley said, more as an order than a question as he pushed past a couple of the female convicts. Gaffney now had control of the unruly woman, pulling her arms tight behind her back. The blonde-haired, heavy set matron looked over her shoulder and gave Smiley a ‘piss off’ look. “I have this handled. Go find yourself somewhere else to be.”

  “Ah, luv, luv, luv.” Smiley shook his head as he tried to yank the convict out of Gaffney's grip. The matron held tight to the woman.

  “Beat it, Smiley, we don’t need your help.”

  “Fine. Good luck with that one.” Smiley gave her an evil smirk. “I’ll remember this Gaffney.” The big guard grumbled as he stalked off looking for someone else to terrorise.

  “I’m sure you will...luv.” Gaffney said sarcastically. The blonde matron maintained her tight grip on the disruptive convict’s wrist as the dishevelled, brown haired woman tried to rip away. Unable to pry herself free, she turned and growled angrily at Gaffney. The guard almost took a step back as she got a good look at the woman’s face. The woman had what appeared to be a ‘thousand mile’ stare in her milky white eyes. Gaffney stumbled for a quick second unable to work out what exactly was wrong with the woman. Seeing her hesitation, she tried to again pull away from the matron. Gaffney quickly regained her composure and jerked her backwards. “You are not going anywhere.” Looking past the woman and over at the other female convicts the matron shouted. “It’s shower time and if you all behave it’ll be chow time!”

  “I’m not taking a shower next to her!” One of the other female convicts grumbled.

  “You will if you want to eat.” Gaffney told her. “Now move it along!”

  “Damn freak show in here.” The convict said. following the others into the shower area.

  “No more trouble from you.” Gaffney said sternly into Sarah Clifford’s ear. “You behave and everything will be easy peasy from here on. I don’t want to have to hurt you. Got that?”

  Sarah seemed to stop squirming at the matron’s words and appeared to give her a slight nod relaxing a bit in the guard’s grip.

  “Good, now let’s get you cleaned up.”

  All the convicts that were incarcerated on Cockatoo Island had to be deloused and scrubbed up. The new inmates were stripped bare and splashed with soapy buckets of water then sprayed off with hoses that pumped water in from the bay. When the females started to be imprisoned on the island there was no shortage of male volunteers to man the hoses. After many complaints from families of the prisoners and government officials that had mothers, wives, girlfriends and sisters doing time on the island, only the matrons were now allowed to run the hose and shower programs. Gaffney thought that decision had made her life and job a whole lot easier on the island.

  “Oh what ‘appened to you, dearie?” Gaffney asked as she watched two of the other matron’s spray down the bare Sarah Clifford. Boils and flaky scabs seemed to cover her thin arms and chest. The numerous boils had a greenish tint to them and appeared to be leaking some kind of black puss that smelled like week old garbage. Gaffney shuddered at Sarah’s stark appearance. The woman looked like she hadn’t had a good meal in weeks. The matrons finished hosing off the women while another matron handed out their prison uniforms. Gaffney walked over to where Sarah stood dripping wet and holding her grey uniform in her open hands. Up close the boils and scabs looked worse than when Gaffney had first saw them. To the matron they appeared to be some kind of infection. All the delousing had succeeded in doing was make Sarah smell like wet garbage.

  “You feel alright? I can take you to the infirmary?” Sarah just shook her head no and stared down at the folded clothes in her hands. “Okay, luv.” Gaffney noticed the naked woman was more emaciated than she thought. Maybe some food might get her to change her mind about going to the infirmary. “Alright.” The matron looked over at the other female convicts that stood holding their prison uniforms in their outstretched hands. “Ladies, now that you are officially servants of the crown we can’t have you dressin’ like the street trash. The crown has provided you with the finest of linens so get dressed and then we will visit the island’s dining facility.”

  Once the women were cleaned up and dressed in their dour, grey, prison uniforms, Gaffney and the other matrons led them into the main chow hall. The feral and apparently mute, Sarah Clifford seemed to have resigned herself to life on the island and dropped quietly back in line with the others. Gaffney, a veteran matron, was leery of the convict’s demeanour but she, like always, hoped for the best. Life on Cockatoo Island was hard enough as a prison matron, even harder for those doing time. Gaffney always knew the best thing to do was keep your head down and do your job. Of course, you had the occasional arsehole like Smiley that was always poking at you. The best way to handle a turd like that was to not take any of their shit. The big guard acted all tough but it was just that, an act.

  “No talking.” Robin, one of the other matrons, warned the convicts as they filed past the steam line with their trays in hand. The inmates had all been told not to speak to the prisoners that worked the steam line. “Just get your food and go sit down.”

  Gaffney watched the women move quietly through the line as the kitchen crew dropped whatever slop they had cooked up on their trays. The matron was surprised that Sarah hadn’t caused a stir as she shuffled through the steam line with the others. Gaffney noticed the prisoner had a dull look in her sickly eyes. The woman was definitely sick with something but the guard figured once Sarah had something substantial to eat she would do a lot better and she’d be able to get her to the infirmary without a fight.

  “Gaffney.” The matron Robin sidled up next to her.

  “Robin.”

  “You gotta smoke?” The brown-haired woman asked.

  “No, ask Babra. I saw her giving one to that puke Smiley
a while back.” She said, watching Sarah slowly walk over to an unoccupied table and sit down.

  “I think she might be givin’ Smiley more than a smoke.” Robin chuckled and jabbed Gaffney in the ribs. The matron was a little annoyed at her loud-mouthed partner but continued to observe the convict who still sat at a table by herself.

  “Nothin’ you ain’t givin’ that shit bag.”

  “True.” Robin chuckled then noticed Gaffney was ignoring her and staring over at Sarah Clifford. “What you think about her?”

  “I don’t know.” Gaffney crossed her arms. “Do you know anything about her?”

  “Naw, I think I heard she bit some bloke’s ear off on the mainland.” Robin shrugged. “Looks more like a working girl to me.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Gaffney watched as Sarah started to shovel, what looked like stewed potatoes and old beef chunks on her tray, into her mouth.