The Ashleigh Rhodes Chronicles (Book 1): Dark Rhodes

by Michael Canon

  She paused for a moment, then grabbed my hand fiercely and said, “What I’m gonna say won’t be pleasant, but you need to listen to me. I’m trapped, I’m not getting outta here.”

  She paused again, looking up, as we both heard something moving around on the ship above us. “Looks like we have company. All the more reason for you to hear me out. I need you to.. feed.. ..to heal yourself.”

  It took me a moment to realize what she meant. I exploded with tears, anger, and screamed, “Are you fucking crazy! I still haven’t come to grips with what I did the first time, and I was barely there for it!”

  “Do it!” She demanded, “Do it now before it’s too late! You need to live Ashleigh Marie Rhodes! Better you do it, than one of those monsters out there!”

  I was still shaking my head no, as she continued, “The world needs your gift, don't you dare give up. The country needs you, it needs to be whole again. There are people out there that need your help. You have to do more than just survive. You were willing to stay here with an old woman you met barely a month ago. It shows what type of person you are. You can’t let that light go out, not now, not here, not when there is so much darkness in the world.”

  We talked for another few minutes until the Venture shuddered, and things got serious again. With tears pouring down my face, I cried, “Swede, please don’t make me do this, I couldn’t live with myself afterward.”

  Her pain-filled eyes softened, and she touched the trail of tears on my right cheek with a bloody finger. “Ash, Baby, it’s okay. I’m an old woman, I’ve added my part to this world, please do me the honor of helping you with yours.”

  I could hear the Hunters pacing around above us, trying to find a way in. We were out of their grasp for now, but that could change quickly. I was so light headed and in so much pain. My vision was dimming, and it hurt to breathe now. I knew she was right, but how could I do this to my friend?

  The fear and uncertainty left her face as she smiled at me and said in a voice that was surprisingly clear and pain-free, “Ash, you are a gift from God, I truly believe this. But he has you on his path, not yours. His path is never easy, and we’ll never understand it, but we’re not supposed to. We met each other for a reason, but it’s his reason, not ours.

  This isn’t your first challenge, and it certainly won’t be your last. He has a lot of work for you to do, and you need to get to it. You are our shining light in the terrible darkness that plagues our world. No matter how horrible it seems, you are who you are for a purpose, and so am I. Plus, if what you say is true, I’ll live on long after this body would have failed.”

  Now it was her turn to cry, “I don’t have much time left, Baby, please do it. Don’t you shed one tear over this, it’s my decision, and I make it willingly. You just promise me you’ll fight for those that need you!”

  I nodded and said, “I love you Swede.” I looked up and screamed before I dove forward and sank my teeth into her neck.

  She tensed up but didn’t scream or pull away, she said, “It’s okay Baby, I love you too Ashl…………”

  I regressed into my head as my body performed the actions of feeding without me. I was horrified as the primal monster inside of me reveled at the taste of blood and flesh, the cracking of bones, at the physical act of consuming. I tried to push it away, only to have it return again.

  I could feel the massive damage to my body healing as I fed. I finished as quickly as I could, then moved as far away as possible, out of shame and frustration at what I had just done to my friend, at the monster I had become. As before, I became immensely tired and fell into a deep sleep.

  It was late spring, I was three, no four, and I was on a beach. I felt exhilarated at the sight of the ocean in front of me. The image shifted, and I was walking into Recruit Training Command (RTC) in Great Lakes, Illinois. Another shift and I was on the aircraft carrier, the Eisenhower. Then the darkness overtook me.

  41

  I was shocked awake as the ship began shuddering again. I braced for it to move, but it stayed where it was. I stood slowly, assessing my body, but found no lingering injuries or pain.

  I was in my cabin. Somehow I had made it back there even with the ship almost on its side, and tilting backwards - I mean aft. The smell of the ocean and fuel oil was close and strong, I knew I had to leave soon. I just had to do something to do first.

  I picked up my 3-foot pry bar and made my way back to where I had left my friend. I grabbed an emergency flare gun and rounds off the wall/floor as I passed them. I heard hissing as I entered the cargo bay and came face to face with three Hunters.

  Dropping the flare gun, I attacked them immediately. Just like on the Davron docks, I was fury incarnate. Rage, anger, and hate coursed through me. The first of the killer zombies took a hit from the bar that was so hard its head disintegrated into a mist of black blood and gore. I kicked out with my right foot, catching another square in the chest, slamming it into a container eight to ten feet from me.

  The last one got a hand on my shoulder and neck and tried to draw me in to bite me. Dropping my pry bar, I lunged forward, head-butting the monster in the mouth and knocking most of its front teeth out. I ripped its hand from my shoulder and bent it back until I heard the bones snap. I quickly released its arm, grabbed its head and snapped its neck.

  I dropped the disabled Hunter and picked up my bar, as the one I kicked away rejoined the fight. I ducked under its attack and slammed the pointed end of the bar into its mouth. Teeth shattered, and bone parted as the bar penetrated the creature’s brain. I kicked it again to dislodge it. I felt the white hot rage inside me cool off a lot quicker than it had in the Davron docks.

  Continuing to wind down, I looked over to where Swede lay, tears falling in rivers, and said, “Thank you Swede. I love you.” I wanted to promise her that I would try to never willingly consume another human, but I had a feeling this was part of who I was now.

  Climbing out of the side cargo door and onto the hull, I found the rope to the Zodiac where I tied it off and proceeded to haul the boat up to me. I sat down hard on the hull and sobbed uncontrollably when Mr. Crowley was not in his basket. Nikki, Martin, and the others were taken who knew where, and now Swede and Mr. Crowley were both gone. I was alone again.

  I felt the loss of Martin and Swede more than the others. The only two people on the planet that knew everything about what I had become and remained my friends had been ripped away from me. I collapsed onto the hull as a sense of despair and loneliness slammed me into a state of hopelessness. I was not sure how much more of this I could take.

  The tears stopped as the cold presence I associated with Myers washed over me, possibly in an attempt to remove me from the emotional trauma of the moment. The icy touch of Myers was immediately tempered with a new calming presence. It was neither warm nor cold, with the smell of gingersnaps. I knew immediately this had to be Swede. I thought this was odd since I’d never seen her eat gingersnaps.

  I took a couple deep breaths, stood up, and moved to set the Zodiac on the hull. I was still feeling lonely and afraid, but I needed to go somewhere other than a broken ship, on a small island full of the undead.

  I carried the Zodiac to the aft section of the ship, where the water was higher on the hull. Slipping the boat into the water, I tied the rope off to a railing. I went back inside to get some clothes and the bag of zombie lures we made the night before. Stowing these in the boat, I went back to finish one more task. After one more check that I had everything I needed, I grabbed the bag holding the 40mm grenades I had never got around to dumping back into the sea, and a small metal wastebasket.

  Heading back to the hold, I found the flare gun right where I dropped it. I loaded the gun and launched a flare into an open container of paper products, reloaded, and launched another round across the cargo hold. I repeated this process until I only had two flares left. Setting up the wastebasket, I launched a flare into it, then another. As the flares burned, I grabbed the bag of grenades and dra
ped it over the top of the now melting wastebasket. I climbed out of the hold as fast as I could, barely making back to the Zodiac before a series of muffled explosions shook the overturned ship. I jumped in the boat and started the motor. Pulling away from the Venture, I followed the shoreline. Looking back at the ship, I watched flames pour out of the hold. I said a silent prayer to my friend.

  The zombies on the shoreline were following me as I motored along. Looking again, I realized they were completely ignoring me. Out of curiosity, I turned the Zodiac closer to land and increased my throttle. As I got closer, I realized they were chasing something. They were chasing Crowley! I maxed out the throttle as I moved even closer to shore, quickly getting ahead them.

  I grabbed one of our upgraded zombie lures, pulling the paper tab that isolated the battery, and threw it as hard as I could behind the approaching zombies. The lure started talking and screaming as soon as it hit the ground. Many of the trailing Hunters and most of the Georges in the vicinity focused their attention on the lure, instead of the fleeing cat.

  Three Hunters were still in full pursuit of Mr. Crowley. I saw a sand bar – a finger of sand that comes and goes at the whim of the weather, tides, and currents extending 30 or so feet out from the shoreline. It was barely wide enough to walk on and not even solid sand in some places, but it would have to do. I put the Zodiac on it around 20 feet from the shoreline and killed the motor. I called out, “Crowley! Here kitty, kitty!” The cat juked towards the sound of my voice, running as fast as he could, meowing the whole way. I pulled out my M4 and started taking shots at the pursuing Hunters, trying to help put as much distance between my feline friend and the Hunters trying to make him into a furry snack.

  The closest Hunter went down as a round damaged something vital to forward locomotion, tying up its peers. Leaving the zombies behind, Crowley scampered down the sandbar to me. In the places where the bar wasn’t whole, he jumped as far as he could and swam the rest of the way. I caught him mid-jump as he vaulted into the boat. I hugged and petted the cold, dripping wet cat as my body was racked by a giant wave of tearful relief. With tears still streaming down my face I quickly toweled him dry and set him in his basket. Pushing the Zodiac off the sandbar, I took one last look at the burning Venture before I restarted the motor and headed towards the shoreline of Quincy.

  42

  Approaching the docks of the yacht club, I cut the engine back to idle us in. Something felt off about the area and was making me nervous. It took one meow from Crowley for me to figure it out. It was quiet, as in really quiet. The missing background noise of civilization was messing with me, just as the missing lights had done to me when I left the Lazarus warehouse.

  The docks and club looked deserted, with all but one slip being empty. This made sense since most people store their boats out of the water during the winter months. I aimed the Zodiac for the lonely cabin cruiser that was tied up closest to the gangway of the C-shaped dock.

  Closing in on the big cruiser, I shut down the engine completely and drifted in. The boat bumped the cabin cruiser quietly and slid down its side. I pulled out a small manual siphon pump Swede had put in the Zodiac before the Venture had rolled. I found the gas tank vent and stopped the Zodiac in front of it.

  I quickly threaded the thin siphon hose down the vent hole and into the cruiser’s gas tank. Filling the Zodiac motor’s tank and our 10-gallon gas can was easy and painless. I didn’t think I’d need it all, but I wanted to be prepared if I couldn’t get to, or use Myers’ house. I cleaned up and stowed everything as quickly and quietly as possible. I turned the boat around manually, only starting the motor to leave the marina. I was in no mood for fighting. I needed to find a place to rest and decompress.

  Pulling away from the marina, I looked back to see the Club’s chain link fence now lined with the undead. They had been silent while we were hidden behind the cruiser, only becoming vocal after they saw us. I could hear their Hell’s Choir of moans and screams as we left them behind.

  I followed the shoreline, navigating by Myers’ memories of growing up nearby. The shore was lined with beautiful homes with high-pitched roofs, typical of the snowy northeastern United States. Some houses were shuttered tight as if they were sleeping away the winter.

  Others had the open doors and debris of a quick getaway scattered across their yards. More homes than I could have imagined were burnt, some to the ground. I was saddened to see how complete and pervasive the fall of humanity to the undead was in this area.

  Attracted to the sound of the Zodiac’s motor, zombies gathered at the seawall that separated land and ocean. I was glad the sound of the boat’s motor and the winter surf on the rocks and seawall drowned out their calls.

  A small island appeared in front of me. Raccoon Island came to mind with an icy whisper I was getting used to. I’d been here a lot as a kid. Well, he had been here a lot.

  I knew Myers grew up in a broken home, to an abusive father. His childhood memories were distorted and bathed in raw, emotional anger. I got the feeling this island was his safe place. Myers memories seemed to be the strongest ones I had. I was curious as to why his memories seemed to be a stronger, and more dominate than Adachi’s or Swede’s.

  I wanted to approach Myers’ house by night, and the island looked like a great place to spend the rest day. I circled the island to the southeastern cove I knew was there. Leaving Crowley in the Zodiac, I checked the island to make sure there was no one else around, alive or undead. Satisfied we were alone, I headed back to boat get ready and to rest.

  Mr. Crowley and I spent the next few hours getting reacquainted, as I tried to get ready for our night mission. It was more like he wouldn’t leave me alone. I’d never heard a cat purr as loud as he did. It would have been overly cute if it didn’t come with a prodigious amount of cat drool too!

  Ready as I could be, I grabbed a blanket and laid down in the boat to get a few hours of sleep. Crowley nestled himself deep in the crook of my left arm, purring and snoring simultaneously.

  Night came on quickly without electricity to push away the winter darkness. The cloudless sky was ablaze with more stars than had been seen in the suburbs of Boston in a long time. I started the motor and left the cove under little more than an idle. It would take a while to get to the cove I wanted, but stealth was more crucial than speed for now.

  As we puttered along, I thought about what Swede has said about us having our own path. I was never very religious, my parents were, but they let Brian, and I choose our own theological journeys. Brian had been born-again shortly after he met his girlfriend, now wife, and retired from the Air Force. I had remained an indifferently agnostic.

  Was there a higher power involved how the events of the last month unfolded? I now had the collective memories, skills, and experiences of three high-quality military personnel in my head. I guess some would find it hard to believe it was just a coincidence that all three of the people I fed on had skills and knowledge crucial to survival after a zombie apocalypse.

  Minus the serial killer-like streak of Myers, I was well prepared to take care of myself, and others. I still wasn’t ready to become a true believer, but maybe she was right. Maybe I did have a job to do. I smiled as I smelled gingersnaps again.

  We followed the river towards Mill Cove in Weymouth. The tide was ebbing. The combination of the outgoing current and the boat moving at just above idle speed increased our trip time to over an hour. I beached the Zodiac in a rocky area of the cove and waited to see if anyone or anything noticed our arrival. Satisfied we were still alone, I quietly geared up, with no intention of returning to the boat.

  I was trying to figure out what to do with Mr. Crowley when he solved the problem for me. Jumping from the bow, he landed on my right shoulder, walked across my backpack, and laid down with his head on my left side and his body tucked loosely against my neck. A few licks to my face was his way of saying he was ready to go.

  I scruffed his head, and whispered, “You are the damne
dest cat I have ever met.” receiving a purring kitty chirp of agreement.

  We headed inland, I knew the route as well as I did my neighborhoods in Tucson, or Providence, or Anaheim. It was fucking confusing as hell and made my stomach do flips.

  I was so engrossed in my contemplation of growing up in four different places at four different times, we almost got caught before we made it 100 yards from the boat. Mr. Crowley growled internally and sunk his claws lightly into my neck as we were about to leave the trees and marsh grass for our first road.

  Coming out of my funk, I saw the street in front of us dotted with a couple hundred mannequin-like undead. I looked left and right and only saw Georges, for now. There was an area further down on the left that was free of zombies for at least 300 to 400 feet. Heading to the opening sent us in the wrong direction, but I had no interest in fighting my way to Myers’ house.

  It would do me no good to bulldoze my way there, only have the house surrounded by a few thousand zombies looking for a chance to take a bite out of my ass. I slipped silently back into the trees and marsh grass and made my way to the clear area. Crossing the street, I crouched down by a mailbox and scanned the area.

  One thing I was very grateful for was that most of the yards in this area were not sectioned off by fences or walls as they were in the southwestern United States. From Meyers memories, I knew I could take 30 minutes and ¾ of a mile off my route by cutting through a few back yards. I slid away from the mailbox and into such a yard.

  The next two streets were almost devoid of undead, making my job much easier. The last yard dumped me out on my street at the top of a hill, steep on one side, gradual with a sharp S-curve on the other side. Myers house was part of the S. The top of the S was where I saw my first pack of Hunters. There were 7 of them, grouped tightly together. They were in the same catatonic state that the Georges displayed when there was no outside stimulation.