Zombie Chaos Box Set | Books 1-4

by Martone, D. L.

  Shit, I don’t know how to swim.

  Chapter

  26

  “See, you think of what is gonna happen, then life brings you one more surprise.” – Lt. Stanton, Fallen (1998)

  To be fair, I technically knew how to swim. I just wasn’t very good at it.

  Thanks to a piss-poor swimming teacher I’d had when I was younger, I’d always possessed a sizable fear of water. Clare, ever fascinated with phobias (the stranger, the better), had once “diagnosed” me with aquaphobia—or, more specifically, thalassophobia, supposedly the irrational fear of being in deep, vast bodies of water, far from land.

  But, technically, I wasn’t afraid of water so much as drowning. And really, was self-preservation ever all that irrational?

  That said, I’d always wanted to be a good swimmer. Back in my late twenties, in preparation for a snorkeling trip to the Caribbean, I’d even asked a friend to give me lessons in a fancy hotel pool in Chicago. And while I’d indeed ended up with enough confidence to enjoy the island-based vacation with my girlfriend at the time, all it had taken was a bit of choppy water during a trip to the Florida Keys with Clare to undo everything I’d learned.

  My thoughtful wife, one of the most avid swimmers I knew, had intended to coach me at some point, but the opportunity had never presented itself.

  And now, here I was, hurtling through the air, about to land in one of the widest, longest rivers in the world, and hoping I hadn’t undershot myself. After all the shit I’d survived over the past few days—hell, over the past few minutes—it would’ve sucked for the current to pull me downstream before I had a chance to reach the waiting ferryboat.

  Of course, I didn’t have much time to contemplate all the possibilities. The churning surface of the cool, brown water came hard and fast—which, ultimately, saved my ass. As my haphazard dive became an unintentional belly flop, the impact knocked my tired brain silly.

  So, when Clare dove into the river to fish me out, she didn’t have as tough a time hauling me back to the ferry as she might have on a normal day. If I’d been more alert, I would’ve surely struggled and possibly drowned us both.

  In fact, I was so dazed that I barely recalled the river rescue. Just flashes of images, like those of Clare diving off the boat, the tower crumbling behind me, and several zombies tumbling into the Mighty Mississippi.

  When I finally came to, I found myself lying on the uncomfortable lower deck of the ferryboat, soaked all the way to my underwear and encircled by four familiar faces as well as several unfamiliar ones.

  Panicked about the zombies that had followed me into the river, I sat upright much too fast. My head, already light from hunger, fatigue, and shock, almost spun off my neck.

  “Easy, honey,” Clare said, kneeling beside me and bracing my back.

  “The zombies,” I croaked.

  She glanced over her shoulder, then back to me. “We’re OK. No zombies made it on board.”

  Apparently, as soon as the crew plucked me and Clare from the river, the vessel had headed upstream, traveling a bit too fast for the zombies to catch us. Determined fuckers perhaps, but despite their otherworldly strength and stamina, it seemed that even undead creatures tired in the swift-moving current.

  I sighed with relief. I didn’t have the energy to battle any more zombies… or wildlings. At least until I grabbed some much-needed shuteye.

  Clare’s eyes softened, and a huge grin lit up her face. “You did good, baby.” Even with soggy hair and sodden clothes, she was still lovely, particularly when she smiled.

  “Was it my imagination, or did you jump in the river to save me?”

  Her cheeks bloomed. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “You’d already saved the rest of us with your crazy-ass stunt. Thought you deserved a hand.”

  “I appreciate that. I’m just happy I didn’t drown you.”

  She smirked. “That makes two of us.”

  Recalling that I hadn’t dispatched all those zombies on my own, I scanned the people around me. My gaze alighted on George and Casey, who had stepped back a few feet, likely to give me some room to breathe. George cradled the two rifles they’d used to help me thin the herd on the tower, while Casey clutched my AR-15 in one hand and my Glock in the other.

  “Oh, good,” I said. “Thought I’d lost those in the water.”

  Casey beamed. “Not on our watch.”

  I looked from him to his mother. “Thanks for helping me back there.”

  “You woulda done the same for us,” George replied. “When the zombies surrounded the tower, most folks on board thought you were toast.” She glanced accusingly at some sheepish crew members and passengers clustered behind her. “But we had faith.”

  “Glad someone did,” I grumbled.

  “When we heard the shots, we knew you were fighting back,” Casey added. “Figured four guns were better than one.”

  “Well, thanks again. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  My gaze drifted to Jess, who stood beside a lanky, six-foot-tall man I could only describe as a homeless pirate. Sporting a long, scraggly, graying black mane, some of it braided, and a footlong, salt-and-pepper beard, he wore a Hawaiian shirt, shredded jeans, open-toed sandals, and a wide-brimmed, safari-style hat.

  But when he grinned, his blue eyes twinkled with shrewdness, and his straight, white teeth put my own choppers to shame. The instant I saw him, I knew I was gonna like the guy.

  “Sal Horton,” the man said, leaning down to extend his hand. “Thank you for bringing my daughter here.”

  Jess beamed beside him. “Yes, thanks, Mr. Joe.” She bit her lip. “Sorry I doubted you.”

  Her father chuckled. “I admit, when she told me your plan… I underestimated you, too.”

  I almost apologized for harboring my own concerns about the two of them, but why dwell on the negative? We’d all proven ourselves worthy of some trust.

  So, I returned the girl’s grin and shook her father’s hand. “Desperate times and all… Anyway, no problem, Captain. Happy to help.”

  “Call me Sal. Only Jess says ‘Captain.’” He shrugged. “Makes her think my job is more important than it is.”

  “Right now, it seems pretty damn important. Thanks for taking us aboard.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Stronger than he looked, Sal gripped my hand and tugged me to my feet. Once I stood upright, I finally had a chance to scan the crowded vessel. Besides several vehicles, including my own, it seemed as if every single passenger and crew member had gathered on the lower deck to witness my arrival. Apparently, they’d wanted to see up close the idiot who’d provided their morning entertainment with his half-ass stunt.

  According to George, most of them had written me off as soon as the zombies surrounded the control room. But despite the insanity of my scheme, I’d still managed to survive—and save my traveling companions—thanks to my own determination, plus a little help from my friends.

  Turning away from the people and cars, I gazed at the forest alongside the river.

  “So, we’re headed…”

  “All the way to Louisville,” Sal assured me. “Speaking of… I’d better get back to my post. Why don’t you and your friends take a load off for a while? I’d say you’ve earned it.”

  A relieved grin spread across my face.

  Fucking-A.

  Clare stepped beside me and squeezed my hand. Surely, she was relieved, too. Both of us were thoroughly exhausted, and sadly, we had barely traveled more than a hundred and fifty miles from Baton Rouge. If we hadn’t stopped in Hazlehurst, discovered Jess in that dumpster, and hitched a ride on the Stargazer, how much longer could we have sustained traveling the highways and byways of the zombie-infested Deep South?

  Usually, I didn’t relish depending on the kindness of strangers. Always the chance their helpfulness was a facade for more sinister intentions. But as with George and Casey, I had a good feeling about Sal and Jess.

  Besides, traversing the Mighty Mississi
ppi via ferryboat offered us the opportunity to recharge ourselves and cover more miles in less time.

  For the first moment since the undead mayhem had struck New Orleans on Halloween night, I actually believed we might survive this mess. If no zombies, marauders, or other obstacles hindered us along the river, perhaps we had a decent chance of reaching northern Michigan safely. Of seeing my brothers again. Maybe even my folks as well.

  Perhaps we’d finally be able to take advantage of all the prep work I’d done for this clusterfuck of death and destruction. Just maybe, we’d live long enough to forge a new life in the undead world.

  “Uh, Mr. Joe,” Jess asked from a few feet behind me. “What was that creature?”

  Thanks, kid. Couldn’t even let me have a moment.

  I looked over my shoulder. Captain Sal had left, presumably headed to the helm, and most of the spectators had dissipated. But George, Casey, and Jess had yet to leave.

  “Not really sure. A couple of voodoo sisters I know call them ‘wildlings,’ so I’ve just been going with that. As to where they come from…” I shrugged. “Who knows? All that matters is that they’re smarter than the zombies and not as easy to kill.”

  Jess’s brow crinkled with concern.

  Reluctant to freak the girl out more than she already was, I tried to soothe her as much as my fatigue-induced delirium would allow. “Look, kid, try not to worry about them. I’ve never seen more than one at a time, and so far, they haven’t seemed all that fond of water.”

  Casey stepped forward to hand me my weapons, then turned to Jess. “Come on, let’s grab some breakfast.”

  Numbly, the girl nodded, and Casey guided her through a nearby door, which presumably led to the on-board kitchen.

  George, still holding the two rifles—hers as well as one from my arsenal—decided to take her leave as well. “Think I might go get some food, too. I’m starving.” She nodded toward the door. “Want me to bring you two back anything?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. I know I should eat, but all I really wanna do is sleep.”

  George chuckled. “I’ll bet. After all the shit you’ve pulled, I’m surprised you’re still standing upright.”

  I laughed, too. “You and me both.”

  “Sal’s right, though. You’ve both earned some rest. Why don’t you sleep for a while? Casey and I’ll give you some space.”

  “What about you, though?” Clare asked. “There’s plenty of room in the van.”

  “Oddly enough, I’m feeling pretty wired right now. I can grab some sleep later, on one of Sal’s cots.”

  Clare frowned. “You sure?”

  I chuckled. “Obviously, George knows I’m a loud snorer. She’s just too polite to say so.”

  George smiled. “No, I just think you two deserve some privacy.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “For that, and for everything else.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Joe. I’d say it’s been a pretty even trade so far.” She turned to my wife, her smile fading. “And Clare, I know I’ve already told you this, but it bears repeating… I’m really sorry about your mom. Casey is, too.”

  Clare’s eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. “Thanks, George. I know you are.”

  Once Clare and I were alone again, we turned back toward the shore. For a moment, we simply held hands and watched the brown water rushing by as the boat wound her way northward along the serpentine river between Louisiana and Mississippi.

  “Feels good to have a break,” I finally said. “But weird, too. I keep waiting for another wildling to find me.”

  Clare squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about that now. Just enjoy the victory.”

  I smiled, calmed by her presence, and kissed her forehead.

  “But,” she continued, smiling sweetly, “if you ever pull another stunt like that, I’m gonna kill you.”

  Facetiously, I placed my hand over my heart. “Never again,” I promised. “No more stupid stunts.”

  Yeah, right.

  She squinted, detecting the fib. “I realize you’re just telling me what I want to hear, but seriously, Joe, I hate when you put yourself in such danger.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “You mean, like you did when you delayed getting on the ferry?”

  She blushed. “You noticed that? I didn’t think you could see me from the tower.”

  “I couldn’t see the van, but I could see the boat, so I knew it took you longer than it should’ve to go aboard.”

  She bit her lower lip. “What can I say? I didn’t want to leave without you.”

  I hugged her. “I know. I would’ve done the same thing.”

  She returned the embrace, then pushed me gently away. “But back to you. I’m not the one who takes such huge risks.”

  I caressed her cheek and tucked a wayward strand of damp hair behind her right ear. “But that’s the world now, baby. There’s danger everywhere. I promise not to seek it out, but if I have to choose between letting you and Azazel die or doing something stupid to save you, I’m gonna pull whatever crazy-ass shit I need to. We might be safe on the river for now, but bad things can happen anywhere anytime.”

  I waved toward the tree-lined shore, as if metaphorically gesturing at the whole world, but no metaphors were required.

  Bad things were clearly afoot—right in front of our fucking faces.

  Chapter

  27

  “I’m a reasonable guy. But I’ve just experienced some very unreasonable things.” – Jack Burton, Big Trouble in Little China (1986)

  Clare gasped, squeezing my hand even tighter. “Oh, my god.”

  “Holy crap,” I said, “we must be close to Vicksburg.”

  The storm of zombies that had swept through Hazlehurst had become an undead hurricane. The trees along the shore had given way to power plants, riverside casinos, and a shitload of flesh-seeking monsters… as far as the eye could see. The hordes we’d spotted in Port Gibson greatly paled in comparison to the numbers here. Had to be at least a hundred thousand of them, some moving with purpose, others bumping into each other, but all of them seeking out their next meal—and unfortunately finding it.

  Amid the shouts and gunshots that drifted across the river, we witnessed several survivors attempting to fight off the storm presently invading their town, but all attempts seemed futile. Like the courthouse defenders back in Port Gibson, they tried valiantly to escape their undead attackers, but there were too damn many of them.

  Clare and I watched in horror as the zombies ripped the unfortunate humans to pieces. Even from a distance, the gore was hard to take. But, despite the awful scene, I knew that risking a mere bite or scratch was far worse than letting the zombies devour you.

  Better to die than to turn.

  Of course, I never wanted to perish like that. If I ever found myself backed into a corner, with absolutely no options, I’d remember to save the last bullet for myself.

  As Clare and I remained frozen against the railing, surveying the mayhem, I prayed that the zombie hordes were too preoccupied with their landlocked victims to pay much attention to us.

  Unfortunately, though, we weren’t the only passengers watching the fall of Vicksburg. Several screams and shouts echoed throughout the ferryboat.

  Part of me wondered why the passengers seemed so shocked by the sight. Hadn’t they passed by the city several times as Captain Sal made his way up and down the river, hoping to hear from his daughter?

  Perhaps they’d only drifted by at night. Or maybe the zombie hurricane had exponentially increased in size. Or else, some of the passengers were simply so shell-shocked and traumatized that they couldn’t help but unleash their fears in such an imprudent manner.

  Whatever the case, the same situation that had occurred on that rickety-ass bridge in Homochitto National Forest began happening here… only to a much more alarming degree.

  Whether due to the shouts or smells coming from the Stargazer, many of the zombies along the shore detected our presence, and as s
oon as they did, their collective attention shifted to the floating buffet on the river. Without hesitation, they leapt into the water, and their compatriots swiftly followed. The Mighty Mississippi soon teemed with the undead, to the point that the creatures began to form an undulating bridge composed of multiple layers of crushed bodies—a bridge that extended far into the river, growing ever closer to us.

  Until now, we had been favoring the eastern shore of the Mississippi, but I could tell that Sal had begun to guide his vessel toward the center of the river. Unfortunately, though, the pile grew so fast that I feared he couldn’t avoid running aground. He’d likely turned the wheel hard to the left, but hard was a relative term when dealing with a hulking ferryboat.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit! I mean, seriously, don’t we deserve a fucking break?”

  “Sleep can wait,” Clare shouted, releasing my hand and darting toward our van. “We have to do something!”

  Sooner or later, my exhausted body would reject the sense of urgency and collapse where it stood, but until that happened, I wouldn’t stop fighting—and apparently, neither would Clare. So, I bolted after her, and together, we gathered several of our rifles.

  Just then, George burst outside, still gripping her own weapons, and sprinted toward the open rear doors of our vehicle.

  “Oh, good,” she panted, “you’re not asleep yet.”

  I sighed. “Starting to think we might never get the chance.”

  Jess and Casey appeared a few seconds later.

  “We need to do something,” Casey yelled.

  “Dad’s trying to pull away from shore,” Jess explained breathlessly. “But he might need some help.”

  “Right,” I said, distributing the weapons and extra ammo. “So, we need to start shooting.”

  “Shoot what?” Casey asked, a tad desperately. “There’s too many of them.”

  “I get that,” I replied. “We can’t get ’em all, not without wasting all our ammo, but we can slow them down.” I hastened toward the railing, the others trailing me. “Since they’re filling in fast, I wouldn’t shoot the ones up front. Their heads are barely above water.”