Ron D. Coffee - The Reel Boys vs the Zombies

B onger looked out his window and said, That engines puffing.

All right, guys, lets do it one more time. Drake waved them to positions.

Jill watched as the band members walked through another rehearsal of their new hit song. They step-danced back and forth three paces in the seat-less lounge area. Big Marko leading the song, six foot three now and his copper-toned skin shining in the light of the cabin. Jack, with his dads dreamy movie star, looks, good old Bonger, muscular and enthusiastic, dancing in line. The playback blasted through the planes speakers so loud that it was almost garbled. As the rest of the band finished the song and ended with a bow of their heads, her brother, Soprano Steve, added a new line.

Surrounded by a mob of bitches, Ill be needing stitch...

Steve! Drake, their manager yelled, his dark hand pointing an accusing finger, Those bitches are the ones paying for all of this. He held up empty hands and open-armed waved at the interior of the plane. If I ever hear you use that word in public, youre out of the band!

Oh yeah, what would that do to the gay demographic? What would the focus group say to that? Steve said with a lifted chin.

Theyll say theres more than one fag ex-Disney brat that can play lead guitar. Drake glared back at Steve.

Steve plopped down in his seat and sulked. You dont have to put up with their grabbing your dick while taking a selfie. Ill be sore for a week! he said rubbing his crotch. I thought the South Africans knew about security.

Why cant you be more like your sister? Drake pointed to her, sitting in her seat, reading Nature Biology.

I tried, but they all went, Mongo straight, he replied then turned to see his sister glare at him from her seat.

Wow man, that engine is smoking, Bonger said from his seat as he looked out the window.

What about my song? Marko asked from his chair.

Not everything wants a joint, Bonger, Jack said as he pushed his jet-black hair to one side.

Drake raised his hands in frustration, looked to Marko and scratched at his fringe of an afro. A hit song is written in a major key, Marko. That crap will never get through the focus group.

No man, its smoking! Bonger jabbed a finger toward the window. His other hand waving for attention.

Its just a contrail, Bonger. Drake waved him off.

Bonger stepped across the aisle and looked out. Then stood erect and hung his arms at his side. With a quizzical look, he curled his hand enough to point and asked, Then how come this ones not doing it?

Drake and Jack stepped to the window, and then looked out the one on the far side. Marko just curled up in his seat and Jill wondered if he would sneak off the restroom again soon. He might be due for more of his drugs, or just worried about his solo record deal hed been waiting to hear about. If Drake knew, there would be hell to pay for the rest of the flight.

Shit dudes, Bongers right! Jack yelled.

The alarm tone rang softly, but repeatedly and then the Fasten Seat Belts light came on.

Jill saw Marko look to the heavens in surrender to fate. Then reach into a pocket and take a pill. Then he reached into the pocket again and again. Marko, no!

Jill looked out her window to see that the left engine was indeed pouring out a stream of smoke. Then as they watched, it exploded, sending shroud panels flying and bits of engine peppered the side of the plane.

Nurse Kelly, young, voluptuous, auburn-haired and dressed in her white nurses uniform, watched from the desk in the lobby as little Blip-(low tongue-click) ran up to the glass door of the clinic in his skip-hop gait.

With both arms, he pulled the door open and yelled, Nurse Kelly, Nurse Kelly! Come quick! Plane go down! He pointed behind him with his thumb, towards the beach. Then he raised his other hand, spread his fingers and swooped it down. Screech! Boom!

Dr. Convorkian, Blip says theres a plane crash. Wed better get over there right away, sir.

The Doctor stepped into the lobby, the boy saw the doctor and his eyes opened wide and ran back out the door.

Convorkian looked out the door to see the thick smoky trail beyond the trees. Then he stepped back into a room, picked up his bag and turned toward the door. Well have to warn them. Keep them from contacting anybody. No sense loading them up with antibiotics if theres no need.

You said the antibiotics have lost their effectiveness against this strain.

All the more reason to get there before Father Joshua and his people.

Father Joshua stood in the deep trench carved in the sand by the jet. Ahead, the wings were sheared off by trees, their fuel scattered onto the underbrush around them, everything but the fuselage was burning.

A group of his fellows gathered on the beach behind him. Poor wretched victims of the same disease that had ravaged him for three years now. In his youth, he had been considered handsome, now much of that handsome face was a deep open wound that refused to heal, the skin around it numb. His hands were missing fingers, under his robes, more devastation. The others ranged from hardly scarred newcomers to the long-term dwellers of the dark shacks, who were missing limbs and shared his facial disfigurements. All of them were as surprised as him to see the wreckage of a jet on their beach.

He walked to the waters edge and saw the fuselage, comparatively intact except where the nose smashed against the volcanic dike. He waved his fellows to follow and as he got near the fire, a downdraft blew the thick black smoke around him. Choking him, filling his lungs with the smoke and unburned jet fuel. As he emerged from the cloud, nausea overtook him, and he threw up the morning meal onto the sand. Turning, he saw more of the infected walk out of the cloud, as affected as he.

Suddenly an evacuation slide popped out and a door fell to the ground. Survivors! he tried to say, though it came out more than a bit garbled. Still, a smile came to half his face at the thought of lives saved from the disaster.

Drake awoke to the sounds of the nose of the craft collapsing. He saw the boys crumpled at the front wall of the cabin. Jill hung from her seatbelts by an open gash in the fuselage wall, left by the missing wing. He half-crawled on the tilted deck to the boys and started shaking them awake.

Jack stirred first, then Steve and Bonger, Marko seemed more out of it than the rest, Drake desperately hoped for a nearby hospital.