by Smith, S. L.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE OTHERS
“Look, Padre,” Lee said, whispering. Now that the girls, or at least their unconscious but still breathing forms, were back in sight, Lee seemed to be thinking level-headedly again. It was like a switch had been flipped. “It’s all just like Wilson said it would be. Don’t know how the little booger knew, but he knew. Don’t you see? There’s a reason all of this is happening. There’s a reason you just happen to have me with you. I can shoot his trigger finger off, the gun out of his lap, or the heart out of his chest, or all of the above. Maybe.”
They had followed the odd set of images in Wilson’s head to this spot, just as Justin had followed Chet only minutes before. They had even followed their own rickety path through the wooded swamp to the river’s edge. Wilson had led them to the same boat that the kidnapper had stumbled upon.
They had receded back into the shadows beneath the trees when they first noticed the rat’s boat approaching. They watched as the kidnapper hesitated at edge of the whirlpool. They had also watched in astonishment as Glenn’s boat arrived. While Glenn, Justin, and everyone else on that boat had been focused on the rat, they watched the fourth boat creep up behind them.
“There’s no time. Come on, guys. Wilson? It’s gonna take all of us to fend off that last boat.”
They both looked at the younger man. He was busy trying to scrape mud off his boots. When he realized they were waiting for him, he just shrugged and shook his head. Whatever had been guiding him to this point was gone now. No more visions. They were on their own.
“Do it,” Padre finally said. “But don’t kill him. We may need him yet. Rats always go back to their nests. Even if it ends here, it won’t end here.”
“Whatever you say, priest,” Lee said, as he cozied up against a tree to steady his aim. He had already pulled one of his long-barreled pistols from an underarm holster. They were not far from the kidnapper’s boat, maybe fifteen yards behind it. They were standing on the only high ground there was, apart from the pier that had led them to this spot.
“Get ready,” Lee said.
There were several noises all at once following the pistol shot. The echoes in the wooded space made it seem like the pistol had fired several times. There were also the sounds of the bullet knocking the gun out of the rat hands and it, too, exploding. Lee had apparently aimed, perhaps unwisely, for the clip inside the gun’s grip.
“Lee? What’d you do?” Padre said.
“You wanted to release him. I wanted to mark him,” Lee shrugged.
“You blew the guy’s whole forearm off,” Padre scolded.
Their conversation was quickly cut short as gunfire erupted from the fourth boat. It appeared to be full of reinforcement rats. The three men slogged through the mud towards the boat. They were holding onto the trees as the mud threatened to swallow them whole. Rat Fink, as Chet had dubbed him, had dove out of the boat and out of sight almost immediately upon seeing his ruined arm. He had slithered off just like a river rat. Padre and the others weren’t worried about that just now, though. The rat’s departure had edged the boat closer to the whirlpool. It would soon be out of reach.
Wilson got to the edge of the tree line and the semi-solid ground first. Lee had been slowed by the need to re-holster his gun.
When they saw Wilson, the men in Glenn’s boat started cheering. Padre soon cut their cheers short with a sharp whistle. Glenn and the others responded quickly, as the priest began pointing frantically behind them. Chet didn’t seem to care what was happening behind him. He was only concerned with the girls’ boat as it crept towards the whirlpool. He was now leaning dangerously far over the side of the boat.
Wilson went to work fashioning a harpoon. He cut a length of vine from a tree branch above him, as high as he could reach with his spear. He then spliced his spear through one end and tied the trailing end of the vine around once for good measure. About this time, he heard the first rounds of gunfire between the two boats. This was followed soon after by a splash. He took a moment to check on the splash when he looked up to launch the improvised harpoon. It was Chet. So far, he was keeping his keeping his head above water.
“I’ll be with you in a second. Just hold on, okay?” Wilson said it as though Chet were waiting for his bill at a restaurant and not drowning. “Try and keep your feet up.”
While Wilson was fashioning his harpoon and tending to the women, Lee grabbed one of the rifles from Padre’s back holster and took aim at the boat that was now firing on Glenn and his crew. “Watch this,” he told Padre. “Like shooting womp rats back home.”
Padre had no intention of watching Lee’s circus act. Life was precious, especially these days. This is what he wanted to say, but there was no time. Instead, Padre was racing toward the boat that Rat Fink had been trying to reach. Lee had time enough for three bullseyes before he realized what Padre was up to.
“Hey, whoa,” Lee said. “I’m coming, too.” The boat had already started moving away from the mouldering dock, and Lee had to jump on board. Once he landed safely inside, he again took aim across the river.
Padre had to reach down into the river to grab ahold of Chet’s arms. Only Chet’s fingertips were still visible thrashing around at the surface. They looked like long, thin corks being dragged under. The suction was so strong that Padre was pulled headlong out of the boat. Lee had to dive to catch the priest’s feet while pinning himself across the deck. The side of the boat nearly dipped beneath the waves as Padre’s whole torso went under pulling on Chet. When Chet was finally pulled back over the side of the boat, they helped him get on all fours to cough up the water. Padre then turned the boat back around to where Wilson was still at work. Lee returned to shooting. Wilson, meanwhile, had managed to pull the motorless boat out of the current and to relative safety.
By the time Lee returned to the offense, he saw that the work was mostly done. After his earlier shots as well as the spirited defense from Glenn’s crew, notably Justin’s AR, the river rats had scurried away. They had started a wide arc to the far side of the river and were now almost headed upstream again.
Though Padre’s rifles had no scopes, it was easy enough for Lee to see Glenn’s boat with his sharp eyes. Something wasn’t right.
“Get on, Wilson,” Padre was saying. Wilson was doing his best to keep the girls’ boat still while Padre moved Gill and Holly over to the new boat.
“Actually,” Lee said. “Might be better for him to stay where he is.”
Padre looked at Lee with scorn.
“Whoa, Padre, spare me the face. It’s Glenn’s boat. I think they’re taking on water. You know, bullet holes and all.”
Sure enough, when Padre looked in that direction, the profile of Glenn’s boat appeared noticeably lower in the river. He left the bank without another word. Lee turned back to Wilson, “Hang tight, little buddy.” Wilson didn’t seem to mind. Being alone seemed to be his default state. He went to work retrieving his spear from his makeshift harpoon.
“Got it, Dad. It’s plugged,” Eli was heard saying, as Padre’s boat approached.
“Good work. I think that was the worst one,” Glenn answered. “Now, quick. Put this on.” He had found some life vests in a cubby hole and was strapping them around everybody’s chests as they worked.
“It’s still too late, though,” Justin said. He was holding his rifle up in one hand and, with the other, dumping water over the side with a Styrofoam ice chest.
“Doo-da-doo!” Lee mock-trumpeted. “Calvery’s arrived.”
“Whoa,” Justin said in surprise. He had been too busy to notice the new boat’s approach. “But, dude, I really hope you mean ‘cavalry.’”
“Get on, boys.” Glenn said sternly. “You, too, Justin. Now.” Glenn basically tossed Eli, his youngest son, into the other boat. Justin was taking his time moving between boats, being especially careful with his rifle. Glenn shoved him the rest of the way. When Glenn finally stepped across to the other boat, it had completely submerged.
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“Padre, get me back over there. I’ve gotta track that rat. Quick, before he finds whatever horse y’all rode in on.”
“Wha-where it go?” Justin asked when he looked back to find the boat.
“Davy Jones locker. But I don’t really know. I’m still mostly unconscious.” It was Gill. Unbeknownst to the others, she had propped her chin up on the side of the boat to watch the transfer. Everybody turned to face her. Many of them looked as if they had seen a ghost.
“What?” She asked. “Haven’t any of you seen a woman before? Holly will be along shortly, I’m sure. Get this show on the road. And if any of you knows what’s good for you, you’ll have some super-strength aspirin ready in about … five minutes ago.”
“Hark, fair Juliet speaks,” Justin said. They broke into laughter like the opening of a pressure relief valve. Some of them were even laughing a little too loudly, still running high from the adrenaline. They were now only beginning to realize all that they had just survived. Coming to grips with it all was still a ways off. As the last rays of the sun were disappearing one by one, it felt as if the long night was finally ending.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: AIRBORNE
By nightfall, they felt confident they had emptied the airport of any remaining zombies. Isherwood and Patrick then helped the woman arrange the bodies of her family members along the concrete not far from the jet. Padre finally broke radio silence to give them the all clear. He said they were headed by the airport on their way back to the church, if they wanted to caravan. Hearing this, Isherwood and Patrick had immediately offered to bring the woman back to the church for the night, but she had refused.
They had originally taken her for a wild and haggard woman. Now that they had got a chance to really see her, they realized just how stunning she was. She was actually on the short side, but, in her presence, they were the ones who felt short. She had long hair that would probably be blonde after she washed up. It was her eyes that really stood out, though. They were severe and piercing, but still blue enough to muddle a man’s mind.
“Look,” she was saying. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Isherwood, either of you, really. I know you’re from the church. I’ve been hearing you all on the radio for days now. I just need a little time, okay?”
“Brings me back to my dating days,” Patrick said. “When women ask for space, give it to ‘em or else.”
“At least give us your name,” Isherwood insisted. “Surely, that’s not too much to ask?”
She raised an eyebrow at the question and didn’t answer.
“Look, we’re gonna bury everybody at the church, right? I’ll at least learn your last name then.” Even as it was coming out of his mouth, he regretted it. She turned on him with a flushed face, but seemed to hesitate when she saw the pitiful expression on his face.
Patrick put a hand on Isherwood’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy, the lady’s done enough today. We need to check on the others, anyway. You radioed in, right?”
“No,” she said. “It’s alright. He’s right. There’s no time for grieving in a world like this. It’s Eve. My name is Eve.”
“Really?” Isherwood laughed. Her show of trust had restored his spirits just quickly enough for him to put his foot back in his mouth. Disgusted, Patrick audibly slapped his own forehead.
“Maybe you should just go,” Eve said with a voice full of hatred.
“No, I mean, it’s just sort of ironic, isn’t it? You’re one of the last women on earth, and you just happen to bears the name of the first woman on earth?”
She exhaled heavily and tears were already at the corners of her eyes. When she flicked her eyes back at him, her stare was withering.
“Ouch,” Patrick said. “I’ve seen a lot of scary stuff the last weeks, but that … dang.” He had been trying to pull his buddy out of the situation. He had seen Isherwood do this kind of thing back in the day, when they were both younger and stupider, but it had been a while since he had seen his friend get in this deep. He decided to just hang back and spectate.
Isherwood cursed. He recognized that look. It was the same one he’d seen on the faces of Eve’s relations, now lined up on the tarmac. “Look, I’m married. I don’t mean we’re gonna work together to repopulate the earth or anything. I just … ah, nevermind.”
Patrick was trying to hold back, but he fell apart when Isherwood said ‘repopulate.’ It was actually the best thing that could have happened, because the look of fury on Eve’s face melted when Patrick couldn’t stop laughing. She actually joined in laughing, which only added to the look of discomfort on Isherwood’s face. He had been the de facto leader of the whole group for so long. He found that he was long overdue for a dose of humility. He couldn’t quite overcome his embarrassment to join in laughing, but he managed a few chirps of laughter.
“Ah, crap,” Eve said when she and Patrick finally managed to contain their laughter. “I really needed that. Thank you,” she said with real sincerity, slapping a hand on Isherwood’s shoulder. “Yes, I think I will go back with you boys. I’ve been wanting to meet this priests you’ve got, anyway.”
“Good,” Isherwood said in relief. “I really didn’t feel good about you being out here all by yourself.”
Eve nodded. “You know,” she said, thoughtfully. “I should really count myself lucky I found nice people. It doesn’t sound like all groups are like yours.”
“So shines a good deed in a weary world,” Patrick said to himself.
“What was that?” Eve asked.
Patrick shrugged, “Nothing. It was just a line from Shakespeare. Well, also, Willy Wonka, but …”
“Yeah, Portia,” Eve interrupted. “How far that little candle throws his beams. Merchant of Venice.”
“Wow,” Patrick said. It was his turn now to blush.
“That ‘little candle’, though,” Isherwood said. “That’s exactly what we’re planning here. Our little network of churches and forts, it’s just the sort of place where civilization could enkindle.”
She gasped softly at the last part. She had a sudden rush of déjà vu. She felt as if she had already heard those words somewhere and was just waiting until someone came along and said them, like they were a key, somehow. “Okay,” she said quietly, looking back to Isherwood. “Okay,” she said again, as her voice grew stronger. “Then you’ve got yourself a pilot.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: AFTER HUMAN
Following the encounter on the river with Rat Fink and the rest of the Finks, as Chet dubbed them, the others all returned to the church except Glenn and Micha. Glenn had asked if either of his boys wanted to join him in tracking the rat back to his nest. Both had volunteered, though Micha was hesitant. Eli was visibly disappointed, perhaps even a little worried, when Glenn decided to bring Micha with him.
Padre and the rest left the one remaining boat with Glenn and raced back to the Humvee. “This might all still be flipped on its tail, if the rat beats us back,” Padre had said.
Glenn would have radioed when he found the first set of tracks, but he figured they would soon be arriving at the Humvee. It would be just as they had left it, and they would know Rat Fink took another road.
It was a blood trail they had found. The footprints were well obscured under the water. There was at least a few inches of water covering the soft earth this close to the river. Once they found the first marker, though, the rest of the trail was easy enough to see. Cloudy patches of water where the rat had disturbed the mud were still clearly visible despite the current.
Glenn had followed hundreds of similar trails hunting deer and other large game. When they shot at a deer, they aimed for the lungs. A shot in the heart, like Cupid, would drop a deer very near the point of impact, but it would ruin large sections of the meat. A deer shot in the lungs might run hundreds of yards before bedding down to die, but all of its meat would be good. If a deer was shot in the evening, the tracking of it typically began after nightfall. So it was this night.
The blood trail of a d
eer shot in the lungs would be bright red. The blood was fully oxygenated in the lungs. The rat’s blood was dark. The injury to his forearm was at the very periphery of his circulatory system. Also, the blood was coagulating. It didn’t much matter to the trackers, though. Whether it was a splash of bright red or black, it would still look out of place to a trained eye. Regardless, the injured rat was thrashing through the swamp. He was leaving behind plenty of markers besides his blood. They anticipated hearing the rasp of his breathing or the splash of his feet anytime now.
*****
But they never did. They followed the rat’s blood trail almost until the next morning. The trail finally ended in a small pool on the road beside the school. Cars had been parked tight around the school, which had once served as an evacuation point and shelter, later a bloodbath and storage for an entire swarm. The rat had apparently spotted among all the cars a model he knew how to pick easily, Glenn decided. The rat had ignored several nicer vehicles before the blood trail ended at a gap in the line of cars.
“Great,” Micha said. “Now what?”
“That’s only the end of the blood trail, son,” Glenn answered. “There will be more tracks besides these.”
“Never tracked anything that could drive before.”
“A lot of new experiences these days,” his father answered. “The roads are full of crud and debris. It’ll be easy to see where a car passed.”
“Ok, cool, but the roads in this area have been trampled by a few thousand feet today, plus that Hummer’s been all over the place.”
“It won’t matter,” Glenn said. “We know he’s not going back to town or St. Mary’s. There’s only one other way out.” He was referring to the Morganza Highway. It led northwest across the narrow land bridge that separated the oxbow river from the rest of the Mississippi River. “Trail will be easy to follow after that.”
