Zombie Island Read online

  “I hope you’re right, Finn.”

  “I’m always right mate,” he said, this time trying to convince himself.

  Something about Britten's bite wounds just didn’t look quite right, but the senior guard would keep that information to himself for now. The bites resembled those he’d seen in Africa while serving with the Army. The memory of that horrible tour sent shivers down his spine. He’d seen more than enough death for one lifetime. Finn knew there were plenty of things that could never be explained.

  “Finn? Finn?” The other guard tapped his shoulder. “You ok mate?”

  “Yeah, jus’ a li’l’ tired I guess. Ain’t been sleeping good lately.”

  “Who has?” The other guard lit up a cigarette, then offered it to Finn.

  “Thanks,” he said taking the proffered cigarette. “You might wanna grab the next ferry outta here. I think the Major will be holding over whomever he can find.”

  “Uh huh.” The guard lit himself a cigarette. “You leaving?”

  “Naw.” Finn said taking another drag. “I’ve got nothin’ to go home to tonight.”

  “Same here mate. I could use the extra cash though.”

  “Yeah.” Finn nodded and took another drag before tossing the cigarette away. He reached down and picked up the canvas body bag that lay on the sand next to him. “I’m sure Her Majesty and the Superintendent will appreciate all your dedication. Now, come on, let’s see if we can wrap this damned thing up.”

  “You think Ward and Britten killed Carson and the others before they tried to make a break for it?”

  “No.” Finn stared down at the inmate’s lifeless corpse. “Britten wasn’t a killer, Ward on the other hand mighta. I just got a bad feelin’ in my gut about this whole thing.”

  “We gonna carry him all the way back?”

  “No. After we bag what’s left of him up go get us a wheelbarrow.” He watched several crabs scurry across Britten’s badly mutilated corpse carrying tiny pieces of flesh in their claws. The sight of the feasting scavengers made his stomach roll.

  “Bet old Britten didn’t think he’d end up crab food one day?”

  “Who does? Besides, we all end up food for something else.” He glanced out across the bay then back down at Britten’s body. “Come on now, help me load up this bag. I’m sure the Major will have more for us to do today. God help us all this’ll be the worst of it.”

  YOU DON’T MATTER

  Present day

  Sydney, Australia

  “Engineering?” Ben popped the top of a can of diet coke and pointed it in Ryan Gibson’s direction. “I didn’t think you could even make a straight-line mate. The only thing I think I’ve ever seen you draw is penises.”

  “That’s architect, you dick. And fuck you, that was a very lifelike penis.” The blonde haired eighteen-year-old grabbed the coke out of Ben Thompson’s hand and quickly gave him the finger.

  “Hey!” The wiry University of Sydney freshman grumbled. “My mum bought me that coke!”

  “And she can buy you another.” Ryan smirked as he took a big swallow of the drink. Ben and Ryan were part of the group of seven freshmen college students that sat around the large outdoor patio of the University of Sydney’s student union.

  “Knock it off Ry.” Emma Clarke, Ryan’s girlfriend said grabbing his arm. “Why do you have to be a dick all the time?”

  “Yeah.” Joshua Henare, the youngest of the group and the biggest, forcefully pulled the can out of Ryan’s clenched hand and and set it down on the table next to Ben. “Why ya always gotta be a dick, mate?”

  “I don’t gotta be, I choose to be one.” Ryan crossed his arms and shook his head at the New Zealander. “I was done with it anyway.”

  “Well, I don’t want it now.” Ben pouted. “Ryan’s had his lips all over it and who knows what Emma’s got.”

  “Hey now!” Emma slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Last I heard you were down at the clinic jonesing for a shot a penicillin, Mister Goody Two Shoes.”

  “Well, at least me mum doesn’t go door to door sellin’ dildos.” Ben said, rolling the coke can around in his hands.

  “It’s not door to door ya moke, she sells ‘em on the internet and they’re massagers.”

  “Massagers.” Zoe Kelley, Anastasia’s redheaded girlfriend repeated. “Are you all done screwing around now? I’ve been waiting twenty minutes to get a straight answer out of you jerks.”

  “Jerks?” Ryan grabbed the side of his chest feigning a hurt heart. “You cut me deeply with your words Zoe.”

  “Hearts on the other side genius.” Joshua told the young architectural student. Ryan punched him in the shoulder then recoiled expecting the big Maori to hit him back. Joshua just chuckled and returned his attention to Zoe.

  “Anyways...” She continued. “Anastasia has an uncle that works for the music festival-.”

  “The Cockatoo Island one?” Ben interrupted. Anastasia Banner, the shyest of the group, just gave them a quick nod in response.

  “Yes, Ben, the Cockatoo Island one.” Zoe smiled, trying to hide her annoyance. “Anastasia’s uncle can get us all tickets and camping passes for the event.”

  “Is that festival next week, Em?” Ryan asked his girlfriend. “It is next week, right?”

  “Next Saturday, Ry.” Emma told him. Ryan picked up his mobile phone and quickly scanned through it.

  “Yeah, I can go.” He said looking up at Zoe. “My classes get out a couple days before yours. I don’t think my Dad will mind if I’m gone a few days.” Ryan frowned. He still lived with his divorced father who spent most of his days lamenting the loss of his marriage, and his night’s blackout drunk.

  “Good.” Zoe looked over at the dark-haired Anastasia. “The only thing is, if we want free tickets, we have to handout and post flyers around town.”

  “Really?” Ryan yawned. “Sounds like work. Maybe I got somethin’ else to do that weekend.”

  “What? Like mow your Dad’s lawn?” Joshua chuckled.

  “Ry, Ry.” Emma said, rubbing his arm and giving him her sexy ‘please’ voice... “The new singer for INXS is going to be there. Please.”

  “They’re free tickets, mate,” Joshua frowned. The young Maori had won a Rugby Scholarship to the University. He was the first one in his family to ever attend. His problem was he didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with his life. “You don’t even have to start a GoFundMe or ask your Dad for any money. C'mon mate, make your lady happy for once.”

  “Hell, I’ll hand out flyers.” Ben smiled as he took a drink from the newly retrieved coke can.

  “Please, Ry.” Emma pleaded.

  “It’s a cheap date.” Zoe said with a little snark. “Emma deserves it for putting up with all your bullshit this year, mate”

  “An’ who's playin?” Ryan asked.

  “It’s an 80’s themed festival.” Anastasia said off the top of her head. “I think Midnight Oil, Madness and Mental as Anything are also playing.”

  “Damn, Ana.” Ben set the coke can down. “That’s the most words I’ve heard you speak all year, or even in high school.” He gave the dark-haired girl a big smile. Ben had been crushing on her since he met her senior year in high school but yet he hadn’t ever worked up the courage to ask her out. Then Ben found out her and Zoe were a thing and he was crushed. Anastasia just smiled timidly at the business student.

  “Look,” Zoe, who was a biology major and the oldest at nineteen, said sternly to Ryan. “All you have to do is put some papers on windscreens and in a few hands. Easy peasey.”

  “Those tickets go for a couple hundred bucks.” Joshua stood up and playfully put his arm around Zoe. “Come on, mate. That line up will probably make your old man jealous.”

  “Do we have to camp?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes, they have plenty of places to put up tents and they even have glamp sites.” Anastasia added, amazing the forlorn Ben even more.

  “What the hell is a glamp site?” Ryan asked, a
little annoyed at the whole idea of going to the festival.

  “They have all these real nice rooms.” Emma told him. “Like being at a hotel.”

  “Bet it’s expensive.” Ryan grumbled.

  “It is.” Joshua slapped him on the shoulder. “But we can bring our own tents and set them up on the beach. That’s cheap mate.”

  “I... I can put up a tent!” Ben said a little too eagerly. The others all looked over at Ben and started laughing.

  “I bet you can.” Emma chuckled, then glanced back over at Ryan, flashing him her sad brown eyes. “What do you say Ry? You still owe me for missing the senior trip.”

  “Crap.” Ryan shook his head. Emma’s parents had been really pissed at him because he was three hours late bringing her home from Senior Prom. They’d grounded Emma for a month after that causing her to miss the senior trip. “Okay, okay.” Ryan yawned. “I’ll pass out your damn papers but...” He put his arm around Emma and pulled her in close. “You’re putting up the tent.”

  “I always do.” She smiled giving him a kiss on the neck.

  SCARY STORIES

  Cockatoo Island - Four days later

  “I’ve heard and seen things that would curl your toes.” The island’s caretaker, a man simply known as Caretaker Tom, said as he spat some chew on the ground. He made the sound of an explosion and threw his hands upwards toward his head. “Things that would blow your mind, mate!”

  “Uh, really?” DonDarrion Rhodes yawned as he glanced down at the diminutive caretaker who reminded him of a hippie that appeared to be older than dirt. The Music Festival promoter, well one of the promoters, sniffed at the strange man who smelled and looked like he’d been rolling in garbage.

  “Really.” Tom said, deadpan, his odd, milky white eyes staring right through the darkened lenses of Rhodes’ sunglasses making him a little uneasy. To the tall promoter he sounded like an Australian Dennis Hopper.

  “I’m sure you have Mister... Tom.” LaShell Washington, one of the Festival’s organizers broke the uncomfortable silence. She was a light skinned black woman who had the figure of a supermodel. Every so often she could feel DonDarrion’s eyes checking her out. “Can you show us all the areas that will be off limits for the public?”

  “It should be off limits for everyone, Ma’am.” Tom cleared his throat and waved his arm forward in an exaggerated motion. “But yes, follow me. Please.”

  The group, which consisted of six of the Festival’s officials and promoters, followed the old caretaker away from the main site of the concert area and over to where the remains of the old prison and naval base used to be. Some of the buildings had been rebuilt, most were in some form of disarray due to non-use and just simple age.

  “Why don’t they tear it all down?” Rosie Garibaldi, a new money widow who’d sunk a big chunk of her inheritance into this festival, asked. She’d been getting bad vibes off the island since she’d landed. Rosie was starting to think this whole investment was a bad deal. She wore a tight business suit that enhanced her Soul Cycle carved figure and her new boob job. Being new to the dating scene after ten years of marriage had caused her to completely overhaul her outward appearance. Maybe she could land herself another millionaire.

  “Well, it’s a bit o’ history, ain’t it?” Tom stopped and flashed Rosie his yellow, toothpaste allergic teeth. “Can’t be tearin’ thangs down all willy nilly. Some o’ this stuff has real historical value.” He pointed to the big iron doors that led below the prison grounds. “Like those. Ol’ Cap’n Thunderbolt himself couldn’t be held in by them doors.”

  “Cap’n Thunderbolt?” Rosie whispered. DonDarrion just looked at her and shrugged.

  “Will this area be roped off?” LaShell asked.

  “Hell, if I know.” Tom spat. “Not my job. Ask el commandante over there.”

  “It will be.” Arton Wells, the thickly muscled head of the Festival's security nodded. The ex Melbourne policeman cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “I’ll have men posted about so there won’t be a problem. It will be safe and secure.”

  “Good, good.” LaShell nodded, as did the others in the group.

  “Here, here. See this weren’t always a prison,” Tom told the group. “They ‘ad a prison here ‘til about 1869. There was some kinda big fire and it was closed. Some of the buildin’s still have the original fire damage. They built a reformatory for girls here but that didn’t last long, closed about ten years later.” Tom scratched his beard. “Navy built a small base here too, but even that is gone. Some say the place is haunted.”

  “Haunted?” Rosie asked quietly, a little unnerved.

  “Yeah,” Tom stepped closer to the group and said in a low voice, “At night they say you can hear voices and see things. Over in the old officers’ quarters we have Sir No Face.”

  “Sir No Face? What kinda stupid ass name is that?” DonDarrion chuckled as he adjusted his sunglasses. He had no time for legends or any such bullshit. DonDarrion had been laundering money for the 18th Street Disciples back in the States. One of the schemes entailed producing several music festivals across the United States. Now he thought he’d up the game by washing the Disciples money globally. This little festival would be his starting point.

  “Uh huh.” Tom nodded. “I ain’t seen him but I’ve heard lots of noises. They even claim to have it on video.” The caretaker started to reach into his dirty pants pocket for his mobile phone.

  “Sounds like a good ghost story to me.” DonDarrion gave a hollow laugh and waved him off. “I don’t need to see it man.”

  “Your loss, mate.” Tom smirked as he stopped searching for his mobile and pointed to the entrance to the big tunnel that ran under the prison. “Let me show you what I mean.” And he pulled a flashlight from his belt and limped toward the dark opening.

  Rosie followed behind the group as Tom showed them through the old remains of the prisoner transfer tunnel. The mouldy old smell and the caretakers unwashed musk was starting to get to her. Pulling a tissue from her handbag, she covered her mouth and listened as Tom went on and on about the history of the prison.

  “...and legend has it that one of the female inmates came down with a case of the rabies that was so bad the superintendent had her locked away down here.”

  Rosie had missed the beginning of the caretaker's story but she damn sure wasn’t about to ask him to repeat it. Still covering her nose, she lagged behind the group, her new Gucci heels slowing her down. Cursing to herself, Rosie stopped and bent down to pull the rocks out of her new shoes. Three thousand dollars a pair and she’s breaking them in by creeping down into an old, crap filled tunnel. Rosie shook her head knowing she should have worn something else but then the others wouldn’t see she had money to burn. Adjusting her shoe, she looked up to see that the tour had moved on without her. Hurrying to catch up with the group, she saw they had disappeared through one of three darkened doorways. Cursing, Rosie pulled her mobile phone from her handbag and clicked on the flashlight app. The dim beam gave her a little bit of light, just enough to keep her from tripping and turning her ankles...

  “Damn it!” She looked around and shuddered a little. Tom, the caretaker’s ghost stories were fresh in her mind and giving her the chills. “Hey!” Rosie shouted. “Hello!” Getting no response from the group, Rosie decided she’d have to bear down and pick a route. The third entranceway seemed to call to her so she went through it, shaky handed mobile phone flashlight leading the way. After a few feet Rosie noticed that old iron barred cells lined the rock walls. What seemed to be a distant voice from somewhere ahead of her beckoned Rosie forward. Thinking it was probably the tour group Rosie eagerly took a few more steps until she came face to face with another old cell. The worn wooden door and rusting iron bars were nothing short of intimidating. Rosie glanced around, looking for a way past the old door but found there was none. She slowly reached out and gave the crusty handle a hard tug, grunting as she pulled. The door refused to budge.

  “Damn it!”
Seeing that the tunnel was now a dead end, she flashed he mobile light around trying to find the way she’d came in. Turning around in the dark, uneven corridor she carefully exited the way she had come in. Rosie could no longer hear the distant rambling of the creepy island caretaker. Apparently, the acoustics in this part of the tunnel muffled any sounds from the tour group. Frustrated and a little scared, Rosie decided on trying the second tunnel. As she cautiously made her way through the darkness, Rosie came across another prisoner cell.

  This one's old, wooden door appeared to be broken and hanging off its hinges. Seeing that it was another dead end, Rosie started to back away until something in the cell caught her eyes. Flashing the light inside, Rosie saw what appeared to be a pile of green tinted bones. Taking a deep breath, Rosie leaned into the cell to get a better look. In the dim light she could make out what appeared to be an old and dirty inmates uniform tangled up amongst the pile of decades old human remains. A revolting odour suddenly arose from the cell making her feel a little queasy. Another voice lowly whispered in Rosie’s ears, compelling her to step further inside the foul cell and touch the bones. She inched slowly forward and reached down towards the old bones. More compelled than anything else, Rosie gently ran her hand across an aged, green tinged femur. The wannabe promoter realized the bones were covered in some kind of mould. Rosie almost jumped when she saw a complete human skull peeking out at her from under, what appeared to be, a shattered rib cage. As she pulled her hand back in surprise, Rosie brushed the remains causing a jagged edge of the bone to slice into her palm.