Dead-End.

Regrets? Fuck no. I don't regret anything I do. I do what I do to survive. Survival. That's what it's all about, and no one does it better than me. Either that or I'm a lucky fuck.

”Hey, Convict! Snap out of it! You know the drill! Thumb on the scanner! Pass it through the glass!” says the officer.

”What’s the matter, Convict!? Afraid of heights!?” asks the officer.

”Just hopin’ we’ll crash before we get there!” says the shackled man as the officer smirks.

His name is Dallas Bellamy and he's a survivor. As he places his thumb on the small infrared screen he glances out the window.

His scarred hands tell a tale of brutal survival and a lonely dog-eat-dog life.

”Listen, I'm not supposed to do this, but the hell with it! Shave your head when you get down there! They smell you easier if you have long hair...no clue why!” says the officer, ”and don't head into the brush! That's where the tend to stick!”

”I'll keep that in mind! Why the tips!?” asks Dallas.

The officer shrugs. Adjusting his glasses, he twists around to face Dallas.

”Look, Buddy! You've got bigger problems than anything back in the world! Might as well give you a shot before...you know!?” says the officer.

”Before I'm fucking ripped apart and eaten?!” asks Dallas.

”Yea! That!” says the officer as the thunderous chopper blades rattle the cockpit.

Funny fucker aren't you?

”There she is! Welcome to paradise, Convict!” says the officer, pointing down to a small island in the middle of the Pacific.

The chopper begins its descent. Slowly, the island begins to take shape. Large plumes of smoke hollow up from various spots on the island as small explosions cut through the ruckus of the chopper blades.

Russo Island. Maximum security...prison Island, Island pen, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Also happens to be the last place on earth where you can find a flesh-eater.

Most of us call it Dead-End. Yea, it's funny until you're actually here. Fuck, to be honest, I thought up until this moment that the goddamn place was just a scare tactic or some shit.

The good ol’ U. S of A’s little sadistic brainchild. While every other country on this fuckin’ planet wiped those things out, we decided to gather up the remaining dead shits and put ’em on this little piece of heaven.

No more three-strike rule. One fuck up, of any kind, you end up here. You're no longer a problem for civilized society.

Back in the world, chumps can sit back with their thumbs up their asses while us folks on this hunk of shit sink or swim.

That's fine. I'm a survivor.

As the chopper touches down, the pilot swiftly exits. He sprints over to two enormous steel gates. Within the gated enclosure lies a touch screen terminal.

The pilot hastily inserts the infrared device containing Dallas’ information and makes his way back to the chopper quickly looking around with his hand on his holster before making his way back inside.

”Ha! Calm down before you shit yourself, Jerry! They never come this close to shore! Alright, Convict! You're up!” says the officer.

Dallas takes a deep breath. He quickly looks around the island before exiting the chopper.

”Good luck, Convict! Send me a postcard!...What’s that mean? I'm number one? I love you too!” says the officer as the chopper departs.

Dallas cautiously makes his way offshore and deeper into the island. The large palms make visibly difficult. The sunlight starts to fade as Dallas makes his way deeper into the island.

Screams as well as small explosions can be heard in the distance as Dallas navigates through the thick foliage.

I can't see shit. Looks pretty smokey over that way. Should probably head in that direction. I mean, those things don't mess with fire.

”I wouldn't go that way, mate, ”

”Who’s there?” asks Dallas.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a petite, young woman emerges from the thick brush. Gesturing for Dallas to head her way, he moves slowly over to her position.

”Name’s Maxine...” she says, then pauses.

”What?” asks Dallas.

”You gotta do something about that mop, mate, ” says Maxine, ”They can smell you a lot easier with hair like that.”

”Yea, so I've been told.” says Dallas.

”Here, Take this. Cut that bloody nonsense off your head.” says Maxime.

”What? Now?” asks Dallas.

”Yes, now! You daft cunt.” says Maxine as the pair make their way through the island’s thick foliage.

Dallas clumsily chops his long hair. Small patches are left all over his head as brown strands fly everywhere.

The pair make their way into an area of thinning brush.

”You look about due for a shave yourself. Gettin’ kinda scruffy-”

”Quiet. Up ahead. You see that?” asks Maxine, ”Those two sad blokes? They're walking right into a nest.”

”You’re not going to ask to help them?” asks Maxine.

”Fuck no. You said they're headed for a nest. They’re dead. Every man for himself, ” says Dallas.

”Smart man. Let's wait this out, ” says Maxine.

Suddenly, zombies begin to spill out of a makeshift safe house. The collection of plywood and thick branches crumble as five of the living dead attack and begin to devour the two helpless men.

”Poor fuckers. Never had a chance, l says Dallas.

”They won't be too long. They usually go for the good stuff first. You know, heart, liver all that. They won't be but a few minutes, ” says Maxine.

”I've...I've never actually seen them eat before, ” says Dallas.

”Eat up, you cunts.” says Maxine.

”Looks like they're done for now. Come on, let's move.” says Maxine.

Dallas follows Maxine back through the trees.

”How long you been here, anyway?” asks Dallas.

”About two years, give or take, ” says Maxine, ”I stopped keeping track a while back if I'm honest. Kind of nonsense to do so, init?”

”I guess. Whatcha here for?” asks Dallas.

”You first, blue eyes. ” says Maxine.

”The big one. My wife lost her whole family during the infestation. I uh, I guess the stress of all this shit caused her to lose it, ” says Dallas, ” She tried to hack me to pieces...so I did what I had to do, you know?”

”Wife killer? Nice, mate, ” says Maxine.

”Hey, fuck you, alright, ” says Dallas, ”I loved her...it was her or me, I-”

”Relax. I'm just bustin’ bollocks. I don't give a shit what you did back in the world, ” says Maxine, ”That’s a different life. Doesn't mean anything here.”

As the pair continue to make their way through the large trees, Maxine pauses.

”Shit.” says Maxine.

”What?” says Dallas.

”I left a fire going in this spot before I left, ” says Maxine, ”If it's out, there's nothing keeping them away-”

At that moment, a large pack of zombies rain down from the treetops.

”Holy shit! These fuckers can climb?!” says Dallas.

”Bloody run!” Says Maxine, ”This way!”

Dallas follows Maxine back into the thick brush.

”You gotta plan?” asks Dallas.

”Remember that role snare I caught you with when you got here?” asks Maxine, ”I've got something even more interesting this way.”

Maxine and Dallas speed through the foliage. The zombies keep pace, closing in on the pair.

”See that big dirt pile?” asks Maxine, ”Head toward it and jump When I say jump!”

Maxine and Dallas approach the large dirt pile.

”Jump!” says Maxine.

The pair jump over the large dirt pile. The zombies hit the pile and immediately fall into a hole that was concealed by the dirt.

”How’s that, you cunts? Oi! I stored a petrol can behind that tree over there. Grab it.” says Maxine.

Dallas retrieves the can and hands it to Maxine.

”A shower will do you blokes nothing but good, init?” says Maxine.

”Hey! You're splashing that shit everywhere, ” says Dallas.

Maxine pulls a match out of her pants pocket, lights it and tosses the match into the pit. Flames shoot up from the pot as the screams from the living dead bounce off the trees.

”...Alright, then. This way, ” says Maxine.

Maxine and Dallas finally emerge from the brush. Dallas follows Maxine to a small tin shed.

”Step inside.” says Maxine.

Dallas makes his way into the small shed with Maxine following. She closes the tin panel door and proceeds to lock it with thick chains. She then lights a candle.

”Good enough. Didn't catch your name, ” says Maxine.

”Dallas.” says Dallas as he scratches his head.

”So, what's your story?” asks Dallas.

” Me and a few of my closest, like-minded mates took up arms in Baltimore.” says Maxine.

”Baltimore. That explains the accent. You're one of the UK refugees brought over after they dropped the nukes over there. Fuck, ” says Dallas.

”Anyway, we took the governor hostage, made a bunch of demands about equally for us poor little country-less brits and when they weren't met, we shot the cunt, ” says Maxine.

”I heard about that. Nice tats. They mean anything?” asks Dallas.

”...It’s supposed to symbolize when things went from normal to the purgatory and back to normal, or whatever you call this, ” says Maxine, ” bloody hell, I remember everything before the infestation.”

”Same. I was...what, Ten? My dad busted into my room. Screaming about the dead coming back to life...I didn't know what to think, ” says Dallas, ” When I was twenty...they were all starting to die off, you know? But I knew it was never going to be the same. The rules for life changed, no matter how much the countries tried to make life normal. Survival of the fittest.”

” Yea. Until you find out about this place, right? What a fuckin’ joke, init? To think, this was supposed to fix the so-called problems of post-infestation society, right.” says Maxine.

”Anyway, sun’s setting. Time to call it a night...welcome to the party, Dallas.” says Maxine.

”Hope tomorrow’s as exciting as today.” says Dallas.

”You think that’s something? Wait until the bleedin’ chimps come out.” says Maxine.

”Zombie chimps? You're shitting me.” says Dallas.

”Sweet dream, mate. Rest up. You’ll need it.”

Maxine licks her thumb and forefinger, reaches over and puts out the candle.

End.