Romero is a Pain redux

Like any good zombie flick…alright any zombie movie…I am not sure good ever qualifies for anything in the genre. Well, Claire and I wanted to hear what was going to happen to hapless colleague Rupert, stuck on an island full of people convinced they were zombies but weren’t. As a veteran of fights with age-old nasties, Rupert was well equipped to fight real monsters. But then again, he was never good at dealing with the human variety.

I don’t always write down my tales for posterity, or well, for anyone, but this one was just different. Rupert was a bear to be around when he first got back…In fact Eden had to reprimand him after one particular outburst. She was able to out stare, growl, menace him…just.

What follows is Claire’s transcription of Rupert’s report of the end of his plight. Claire did a very good job at keeping a straight face as he told us how got out of the mess. We thought it a good idea to get it in writing lest there be any come-back from whatever he had done. So, you see, in some ways we were a bit apprehensive of just which did happen on that island.

“You read my emails…and I’m sure had a good laugh at my expense,” he grumbled. “I have to say I came close to opening up on those idiots several times. Especially when they kept me awake with their banging and shouting. I tell you it was as bad as Glasgow on a Saturday night.”

He paused to take a drink of tea and continue glaring at the Sage and me to make sure we didn’t make any comment, or especially laugh. Eden was glaring back still in disgust at Rupert’s outburst soon after his return.

“When I ran out of beer, I really got naffed off. Then the stupid buggers managed to cut my power off….that was when I got seriously fucked off with the idiots outside. While I was searching for a candle with my waning flashlight I discovered something interesting. Turned out the guy who owns the place was a bit of a survival loon. Besides the armoury, there were flares and grenades, including some that were rather nasty.” Rupert said calmly.

“So there I was with little light and that constant bloody racket from the loons. Then, I started to notice the noise was getting rather weaker at times. The daft buggers were not eating or drinking for some stupid reason….” He paused; “I am going to find out who gave them this bloody idiotic idea and use him as sacrifice next time I am facing one of Cthulhu’s finest. I am sure there is some law I could get him with but a slick lawyer would get him off…”

“Come on, Rupert. Do tell how you got home.”

“I bloody well am! Damnit!” He retorted. “Before this idiocy began I managed to take a few walks around in order to keep myself in shape…so I knew the lay of the land.”

“Just for exercise…yeah I bet. Paranoia more like…” spluttered Claire, to herself only of course.
“Course as these idiots had been bashing stuff up with their bare hands many of them were bloody and bruised. A few had managed to get infected I would say, so they were starting to look like…ah real zombies. Saying that, zombies could probably have made more sense than these fools.”

He took a drag of tea.

“I had to get the hell out of there afore they or anyone discovered what was going on…or I would probably get blamed….It was easier the time I was off in Ireland and they tried to burn me as a warlock! At least, I could reason with fools.”

“I seem to remember you only got away because they were crap at tying knots.” Replied Claire, now getting looks from me so she didn’t wind him up too badly.

“Well yes…um…never mind. You want to hear this or not? Mmmm…” He was now looking a bit angry again. “I was contemplating burning the place down with the books in there but I assumed they fools around the building wouldn’t notice me leave and get burned/blown to smithereens. This meant I had to take all my books with me as well. Bloody brilliant it was…so I packed them up in a back-pack with a few provisions but no room for clothes.”

Claire continued to scribble attempting not to distract since Rupert was finally on a roll.

“Well, I decided to get away from the building and then fire off the flares so I wouldn’t have to worry about the place exploding. Naturally it hadn’t rained for several days so the bloody place was dry. Yeah, it rains all the time on this freaking island…like when I want to go for a bloody walk, but when I am trying to escape…”

He paused, coming to the end of the tale.

“I managed to get out the back without anyone noticing. First, I opened the front door and then shouting pleadings to them to leave me alone, I rushed back inside. Then, I rushed out the back door. Once I hit the side of the bungalow I fired a few flares low enough to blind but high enough not to burn anyone….It was then I caught a glimpse of something that got me in such a shitty move.”

“Oh what?” I responded.

“Some arsewipe had a camera and was filming all of this. I could see a camera pointed at the house with someone obviously holding it. I considering going over and beating the living shite out of the wanker, but decided leaving was a better idea. “

“Did they follow?” I asked.

“Follow…yeah right? Those people were so weak, they barely could move a few feet…I did have the pleasure of belting one that I caught on my way out. When he wakes up he will have a nasty lump on his head and a serious headache. I shit, I hope he did wake up.”

He took another sip.

“Then I walked for a good long while in some cane fields and through some woods ‘till I got to the other side of the island. The people there appeared not to be so stupidly affected. I came home. End of story.”

“Did you tell anyone about the er pseudo-zombies?” I queried.

“You’re kidding me, right? I got my sorry arse off that island of moronity and then reported to the Dutch authorities that there was some illness affecting the island. Didn’t even leave my damn name. Knowing the Dutch, it will take them weeks to do anything about it.” He paused; “Not that I give a shit whatever.”

“But…”

“Oh bloody hell, Sage give me credit! You didn’t think I went to that island under my own name did you? Do I look that daft?”

I replied: “I was not meaning to imply….” Changing the subject quickly; “so what you going to do about the guy who set this whole thing up and was filming?”

Rupert replied ominously: “Ha! He’ll get what’s due him. If the Dutch authorities don’t deal with him, I will make sure he comes into contact with some real zombies…”

“But they don’t really exist…”

“Oh, not the Romero idiocies no…but there is always the Voodoo version…Wonder if he could tell the difference?”

Claire replied: “Rupert, you are a wicked man. But I rather like your style.”

“I seem to remember rumours of “zombified” prisoners cutting sugar cane in Haiti. Maybe we should see if they are real and introduce our zombie-fan-boy?”
I raised my hands in mockish disgust and declared. “I don’t want to hear about it…this has nowt to do with me lad!”

For the first time since he returned we, all three, participated in a jolly good laugh. If you listened carefully, I swear you could hear Eden doing her imitation of Muttly.

Never been big on those island paradises myself…way too much water around them. The water too deep and too warm…You never know what might happen, do you?