by Shana Festa
"Let's get that raft up and loaded," ordered Vinny. "I packed each of us a go-bag. We all have two days' worth of rations."
Meg, Peter and I passed the bags and weapons down to the others, and they transferred them into the raft. The rapid inflation was kind of awesome to watch, but it left me wondering how we were supposed to fit it back into that tiny bag. I stuffed a miffed Daphne into her bag and gently passed it down to Jake, who put her into the raft. Saying she was not a happy camper would be the understatement of the year.
"I'll be right back," Peter said. "It's my turn to find a hand-to-hand weapon. From what I hear, I've got some thinking to do if I'm going to outdo the names of yours."
"Not gonna happen, Pete. There's no way you'll top The Brain-Biter," I taunted, watching him disappear down the stairs. I was about to turn back to Jake when something caught my eye. Moving toward us at top speed, and showing no intent on slowing, was another boat. Scratch that; this thing was a yacht.
"A boat!" I yelled, pointing even though it was close enough to be seen by even a blind man. I had only a moment of excitement before realizing the boat was headed straight at us.
We waved our arms, shouting for them to turn.
"Oh, my God, it's going to ram us." Meg stumbled back, tripping over my foot and fell to the deck. I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back to her feet.
"Pete!" I screamed, over and over again. I saw his head at the back of the boat a moment before Jake began screaming for us to jump. The sight of the rapidly approaching yacht had me paralyzed with fear, and it took Meg, violently shaking me by the shoulder, to bring me to action.
Meg leapt off the side, splashing to the water below, and I turned to follow suit. I was too late, and the boat collided before I could jump, catapulting me over the railing and through the air. My impact with the ocean felt like I hit a cement wall, knocking the air from my lungs and pulling me down.
I kicked my way to what I hoped was the surface. My lungs burned, and I choked on water as I broke through, gulping in air and seawater. The raft propelled toward me, being pushed by the mangled boats in motion behind it.
"Give me your hand!" I heard Jake yelling as they neared. One chance was all I would have. If he didn't reach me, the raft would pass by and the wreckage behind it would kill me.
Everything slowed to a snail's pace in that moment, and the scene unfolding before me blurred as I fought to keep my head above water without the use of my arms. I saw Jake's arms extending for mine before my head fell beneath the water one last time. Holding my breath, I grasped blindly for Jake's hand and was pulled back to the surface as his fingers clasped my wrist. He pulled me into the raft, Vinny helping get my legs, and I rolled onto my back, gasping.
"Holy fuck," I rasped out, water continuing to flow from my pained lungs. The fragile raft bounced, and water cascaded over the sides. In seconds, I was sitting up, rigid, and peering at the houseboat behind us.
The minutes ticked by as the crafts began to pick up speed again. Five Minutes? Ten? I had no idea, but it seemed like forever. The lower deck was almost level with the raft and I could make out movement through the windows to the galley.
"Pete!" I shouted, cut off by Vinny's hand clamping over my mouth. I struggled and broke free. "What the fuck?"
"Shut up," he hissed at me. "The door to the galley is open. We need to get free of this death trap."
I didn't understand why he was so freaked until Pete stepped out from the galley door and onto the deck a few feet from us. The unknown time we'd been plummeting forward didn't matter anymore. The only point of importance was that it had been long enough for Pete to turn. His throat was torn out, skin flayed from neck to belly button. Pete had joined the ranks of undead, and had us in his sights. Jake and Vinny paddled furiously along the side of the boat. If we could just make it to the front end, we'd be free, and the writhing mass of fiberglass behind us would sail away.
My hands searched the bottom of the raft for a weapon. I found nothing to ward off the newly risen Pete. Meg shoved Spike in front of her in an attempt to hold him off, and he fell forward, impaling himself onto the long weapon. As Meg was pushed back, screaming, the shaft exploded through the back of Pete's head, splattering us with warm blood and brain matter. His arms twitched one final time before going limp at his sides.
Meg made gagging sounds while I fought to roll his dead weight off her and into the water. The moment she was clear, she leaned over the side and vomited violently.
"Oh, come on!" I screamed to the clouds as zombies piled out of the door in search of fresh meat. They locked onto us like laser beams and began to stumble across the deck.
"Paddle!" yelled Jake, as we began to make progress along the side of the boat. My slick hands slid off the hull as I tried to move us along. Finally I gave up and leaned over the raft to paddle furiously in the water. The first of the small group stepped off the edge and landed with a splash behind us, followed by the rest of the conga line of corpses.
As we made our way free of the boats, we slowed to a stop and watched in awe as they sped toward the Cape Coral side of the water and collided with the seawall. The impact devastated the houseboat and the wreckage sunk, leaving the yacht listing to one side and nearly submerged. The only sign that the houseboat was ever there was the cover to the hot tub floating away.
Jake turned his back on the boats and saw Meg for the first time since Pete had fallen on her proverbial sword. His eyes went wide with fear and all the color drained from his face as he took in her blood-soaked clothes and face.
"No," he uttered. "Meg. Tell me that's Pete's blood. Tell me he didn't bite you."
"I'm fine, Jake, relax."
"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed, frantic to find the dog carrier. Water had sloshed into the raft, leaving us sitting in what felt like a kiddy pool. The bag holding Daphne had tipped on its side and she was struggling to keep her head above water. I unclasped the buckle and pulled her out. "Poor baby," I cooed. She was shaking uncontrollably, and her tiny nails slashed my arms as she fought to climb up my body and sit on my shoulder.
"So," breathed out Vinny, "when did we get a parrot?" We tittered in nervous laughter, completely shaken from the ride. Sometimes, a bit of morbid humor is needed to maintain our frayed shreds of sanity.
* * *
We rested a bit, the raft bobbing in the water as the tide moved us farther south toward the commercial district. My frustration had bubbled over and I was in the midst of a full-blown tantrum.
"Oh my fucking God. This shit is unreal. It's like the forces of nature are punking me and having a great big laugh at my expense."
No one else dared to interject; I'd lost my shit and was babbling like a raving lunatic.
"Seriously, a yacht full of zombies? How the hell does that even happen? Stop fucking with me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs into the sky. My fists were clenched and I could feel my face go red with my skyrocketing blood pressure.
"Uh…yeah," started Vinny. "Do you feel better now?"
"No," I responded petulantly, crossing my arms with a childish huff. I fell back to the floor of the raft, kicking my feet and pounding my fists into the flimsy bottom. I heard the boys snickering at my embarrassing display and wasn't having any of it.
"Stop laughing at me!" I demanded, which made them laugh even harder. "Goddamn fucking fuckers," I spat.
A few minutes later, I was past the tantrum and embarrassed by my outburst. I decided to handle it like any self-respecting adult woman would; I pretended it didn't happen.
"Is it me," said Jake, "or are we just bad luck on people?"
Vinny raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Everywhere we go and anyone we come into contact with dies."
"Dude, don't overanalyze it. It is what it is, and I'm fine with it so long as our own luck doesn't run out."
I looked at him with my neck cocked to one side. "Luck? Is that what you're calling this? Millions of miles of water out there and the zombie dinner cruis
e just plowed into the only boat in sight." He had that look on his face, the one he got right before he asked the question I was thoroughly sick of hearing. "Don't," I ordered.
"Don't what?"
"Do not ask the question you're thinking about asking."
"Sorry, gotta."
"I'll kick you in the balls if you ask it."
He cupped his junk with his hands and smiled. "Must. Ask. Can't. Stop."
"Balls, Vinny, I will kick them. When you're least expecting it, I promise."
"So," he said in a taunting voice, "What now?"
"Argh!"
Meg and Jake laughed along with Vinny, and I shot them all daggers.
"Damn, Vinny, I feel for you man," Jake sympathized. "She won't forget that, and she is totally going to kick you in the nuts someday soon." Vinny's face paled, realizing for the first time that he just might end up singing soprano in the near future. I smiled back at him mischievously nodding my head slowly to punctuate Jake's revelation.
"Well, now that the evil question is on the table, I think the first priority is to find a reliable car," I offered to the group. One of the main features of the commercial district was its abundance of car dealerships.
Meg joined in the planning. "What do we go for? Compact and fuel efficient or a BAMF?"
The three of us looked at her in obvious confusion.
"Oh, come on, seriously? What are you guys, like, eighty? Bad-Ass Motherfucker-BAMF… a tank." She rolled her eyes at us, annoyed at our lack of hip terms.
"A tank would be nice," said Jake wistfully. "And some heavy artillery couldn't hurt."
Vinny rolled his eyes at Jake's pipe dream. "Yeah, well unless you know of a super-secret military base that I don't, I think we should grab an SUV. Not one of those crappy crossovers though, those things are more station wagon than truck."
"Here, let me have a go." I took the paddle from Jake. "This water is freezing. Maybe the exercise will warm me up some." The ocean mixed with the wind, and the fact that I was sitting in three inches of water and soaked through to the bone was making me shiver. Meg followed my lead and grabbed the paddle Vinny was using, and the two of us paddled the raft closer to land.
I didn't see any undead wandering nearby and was hopeful we'd land at the boat-ramp without a hitch. We got closer and still the area was clear. About ten feet from the ramp, I felt something push against my ass.
"What the…" I started. "Weird."
The others looked at me like I was losing it.
The outline of a hand pressed up from the center of the raft, a second and third adding to the mound.
"Fuck," exclaimed Jake. "They're under us!" He grabbed his screwdriver and my crowbar, ready to hand it off to me. Meg had Spike in her lap, both hands on the paddle, and Vinny held his Ka-Bar in the air, ready to strike. The resistance created from the increasing number of limbs pushing on the raft made it difficult to make any progress toward the ramp.
The more shallow the water became, the harder I paddled, gaining inches at a time. My muscles burned with the effort of each stroke, and I began to panic. Jake shoved Daphne roughly into her carrier, much to her dismay if her whines were any indication, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He and Vinny scrambled to gather the rest of our pitiful belongings while Meg and I fought the stopping power of what now looked like twenty hands.
Meg tipped forward, her upper body leaning over the raft, and nearly toppled over. One gray hand rose above the water line, gripping the paddle.
"Let it go," ordered Jake. She complied, but it did no good. He'd forgotten that handy feature of the paddles being attached to the raft, and letting it go just made it easier for them to stall our progress.
"Fuck!" he growled again, taking my paddle and cutting it furiously into the water and, thankfully, making better headway with his manly bicep muscles dwarfing mine.
Vinny peered over the side and into the upturned faces of bloated corpses scrabbling to get to the fresh meat. "Bro, this is gonna be tight," he said. I followed his gaze to the deathtrap below. Our appearance seemed to be all the motivation the zombies needed to begin their slow trip to the ramp. If we didn't make better progress, they'd easily overtake us.
The swollen face of a long dead corpse rose up in front of us, and I pulled back the crowbar, using the leverage to slam the straight edge through its forehead. It sunk below the now-shallow water as I retracted the gore-soaked weapon. Breakfast roiled in my belly, nearly making a comeback, but, with great effort, I swallowed it down.
Behind us, the same terrifying scene played out as we closed the distance to the ramp. Countless menacing corpses were rising, following us. The paddle scraped cement as it came in contact with the steep ramp. Taking two more hard swipes at the water, the bottom of the raft scuffed the hard surface and Jake flung the paddle.
"Go!" he demanded, and the four of us clambered from the raft and clumsily began to climb the wet incline. I grabbed Meg's arm when she slipped, panicked that she would tumble backwards into the waiting arms of a corpse.
Breaking free from the water, we ran to the top of the ramp, pausing only to look in every direction. We discovered we were behind the Costco on Cleveland Boulevard. Hope surged as I saw the behemoth superstore, and we made for the concrete building. We skidded to a halt after rounding the corner to discover the roll-down doors of the store were up and shadows moved within.
"Not a chance," hissed Vinny. "Keep going."
"Across the median." Jake pointed to the first dealership that signified the beginning of the auto-row.
The three-lane highway was stalled with bumper-to-bumper traffic in either direction, making it easy for a zombie, or even a group of zombies, to lie in wait for innocent victims. I took Meg's hand, trying to comfort her, but my own fear was mirrored in her face, doing little in the way of comfort.
Jake motioned in the direction of a small gap between cars. "Stay quiet, stay low, and stay together. And most importantly, stay alert. Avoid windows and pay attention to the ground; anything could be lurking under the vehicles."
"Great fucking pep talk, Yoda," I sniped, not feeling an ounce of comfort.
"Go!"
We ran at a slow jog, our heads snapping in all directions, watching for deadly threats. I kept hold of Meg's hand, my weapon gripped tightly in my free hand, poised and ready to defend us if need be. My chin ached with each impact of my sneakers on the pavement, still not fully healed from my fall during our flight from Sanibel.
At the median, we climbed over at a crouch. Nothing moved around us and there were little signs of struggle save for a couple corpses so badly eaten that there wasn't enough left to reanimate. Birds pecked at the rotten bits of flesh that still remained. Three lanes left, that's all that separated us and the Nissan dealership on the other side of the roadway.
Once again, we took off at a jog. One lane down, two left to go. The cars were packed so close together that we needed to run up two car lengths before finding another opening. Two lanes down, one left to go. Jake and his brother were in front as we passed through the narrow opening of the last obstacle between us and an open run to the dealership. Meg trailed behind me, keeping up as I pulled on her hand, squeezing as much to mollify her nerves as well as my own.
Her hand wrenched free from mine and she let out a muffled yelp when she hit the ground, flat on her stomach. Behind her, under the car we were passing, was a zombie. Its fingers were clenched around her lower leg, and it began to drag her backwards.
I grunted with effort while trying to pull her free, succeeding only in dragging both her and the monster a few measly inches.
"Jake!" I hissed. He was there in an instant, adding his strength to my efforts while Vinny hurdled above our heads, landing beside Meg's legs. He used his Ka-Bar to penetrate the base of its neck. The tip of the blade pierced through the fetid flesh and struck asphalt, grinding as the blade twisted.
Without a word, we continued our short trek to the dealership, flattening ourselves to t
he south wall to catch our breath. Meg was trembling and, let's be honest, I didn't blame her even a little. I was just surprised I didn't smell piss, because I know, without a doubt, that I would have peed the fuck out of myself had that been me back there. Nope, I stand corrected, I smelled piss. I patted her lightly on the shoulder in a show of solidarity and eyed the boys in warning, my expression leaving no question as to my thoughts of go ahead, make a comment, I dare you.
Smart men, they kept their mouths shut.
Chapter 07: Yo, Adrian
Our position on the wall afforded us a clear view of the car lot. At first, it looked clear, but as I stared longer into the mass of vehicles I began to notice movement. Figures shuffled sporadically throughout the rows not seeming to notice our presence…yet. To our right was the front of the building made up of a little concrete and a lot of glass. The windows were tinted to combat the Florida sun, so we couldn't see the interior of the showroom. I shuddered, thinking about what could see out.
To our left was the service area. Having owned a Nissan, I'd spent many an hour in both areas of the dealership. We backed along the wall until we reached the service entry. Seeing that the bay doors were down flooded me with relief. I still didn't know what would lay beyond the doors, but knowing they hadn't been open for two months, like an invitation to unwelcome guests, left me feeling optimistic.
We stood in front of the glass door waiting to see if anything sounded from the other side and hoping it was unlocked.
"Moment of truth," whispered Jake. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hand resting on the handle, and pulled. A soft tinkle of bells sounded as the door opened a few inches and he paused, ready to close it should any body parts show themselves. When nothing happened, he pulled the door fully open, taking care to go slower this time and not agitate the bells. The four of us stepped inside, with Vinny in front and Jake quietly closing the door behind us.
We were in a short hallway with a clear view to the service desk. The metal roll-down shutters were lowered and signs of a struggle were evident. A long-dry mess of blood and scattered papers littered the area in front of the desk. Something dead had wanted whatever was behind those shutters, which meant at one time there was something alive behind them.
