Haven From Hell (Book 2): Warrior's Chronicle

by Won, Mark

  We were all discussing the care that we should take once we left the main river when our host walked in with a shotgun pointed right at me.

  “You killed my son, motherfu-” That’s when I kicked backwards, drawing my revolver.

  There was the usual explosive noise when a 12 gauge goes off but it missed me clean. I was flat on my back still seated in my chair, while everyone else was getting up and pushing away from the table. The table blocked most of my view of my assailant, but I could see his feet well enough. That was all I needed to put a couple of rounds through the table and into his center mass. The shotgun went off again in a random direction as he dropped down dead. Once his head was level with my own I put one more bullet between his eyes before the corpse had time to get back up.

  From my feet in the air, prone position, I saw a number of other people enter the room. His crew I presumed. I shot one guy in the foot while I tried to get back up. Chunks were taken out of the table as Captain Smith’s crew began firing back. When the guy with a new hole in his foot fell I finished him with a shot through the chest. I must have hit him in the heart because he died instantly.

  I still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but it didn’t really matter. They were shooting at me so I didn’t feel that I had any real choice. With only six shots to begin with that meant that after I’d killed the captain, and the guy I’d shot in the foot (who was already rising), I only had one bullet remaining. After rising from the floor, I manage to expend my last round into the forehead of some witless goon who had been firing twin pistols, holding both sideways. I have nothing but contempt for that sort of flagrant disrespect for proper marksmanship.

  With all of our antagonist’s attention focused on me (and with me being out of ammunition) I had to throw myself back on the deck to avoid being perforated by the two remaining crewmen. One ducked down below the level of the table to shoot me while the other charged around the side. That’s when I got some help.

  The other captains had finally overcome their initial shock and had drawn their own weapons. I remember hearing Zander shouting obscenities as he blasted the shooter ducking below the table, while another half dozen or so allies opened fire on the remaining crewman. By then the first of the dead were upon us.

  Mr. Foot Shot was up and reaching for Zander. With no time to reload, I did a quick draw with my combat knife and managed a perfect throw right into the zombie’s skull. Even after all my years of military service that was the first time I’d ever actually used that aspect of my training.

  The rest of the dead posed no problem. The way everyone was firing at point blank range in a cabin to small for the lot of us, it was a miracle we didn’t lose someone to friendly fire. Then it was over.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I said.

  Questions were forthcoming: “What’s going on?” “Are we under attack?” and my personal favorite, “Who was his son?” I had no answers.

  Prudence dictated that we all get back to our own boats as quickly as possible in case the actions of Captain Smith and his homicidal crew had been the prelude to a wider altercation.

  There were no further problems forthcoming, however. No invading fleet. Just a bit of a mystery.

  Eventually, a bunch of us headed back over to the trawler to give it a through search. We found a stash of ammunition that everyone was happy to split up, as well as a few more firearms. I took a new pistol for myself. When I first purchased my trusty revolver it was just for a little home defense. But if this kind of thing was ever going to happen again, I wanted to be better prepared.

  All the firearms were in need of a good cleaning, which suggested that Captain Smith was some kind of poorly disciplined small time operator. There was a reasonable amount of food stored and more opiates than I hoped we’d ever need. Plenty of booze, too.

  That’s when I remembered where I’d seen the trawler before. It had been tied up at the main pirate barge back in New Orleans, during my attack. Later, I’d noticed it tied up along the bank when our flotilla had passed by.

  By then word of my exploits in destroying the river pirates was well known to everyone in our fleet. I had to assume that Captain ‘Smith’ was out for revenge but didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of a simple assault. He must have joined up with us at some point, learned what he could, and then bided his time. He must have gotten the idea to follow us, either because of the letter that I’d left behind, or when he saw us sail past his location. From then on I decided that no one should be allowed to join our little group without first being asked a few pertinent questions.

  With that bloodthirsty altercation behind us we sailed north through Saint Louis. The dead were everywhere. When they noticed us they lined both banks and reached out for us. The wind brought us the sound of their moaning, and I wished that I had a whole boat full of bullets; talk about a target rich environment! Then I noticed that a few were walking into the water. No many but enough to worry me. I got on the radio and warned everybody to be wary of a potential boarding situation.

  Once past the city we parted ways with the Mighty Mississippi and began to wend our way through the Illinois river. I don’t know whatever happened to the zombies that tried to reach us by walking into the river, but they never made a reappearance. Maybe they became distracted and got washed downstream.

  Traveling along a narrower river route, the zombies lining up along the banks took on an increasingly frightening aspect. It occurred to me that if they all jumped in the canals we were using they could literally clog the entire waterway. Considering their near non-existent self preservation impulse I wouldn’t have put such a notion past them. Fortunately, they mostly seemed content to stand around the water’s edge. I do love a stupid enemy.

  Chapter 6: A Cry for Help, The Best Way to Distract the Living Dead, Short Bus

  Once we reached the area of Castle Hill I began picking up a radio message on the citizen band. It was from a teacher in an Elementary School. Her name was Laura, and she kept repeating the same mayday over and over until I responded. Then she got desperate.

  “Can you help us? We’re trapped here.” I’d guessed as much.

  Honestly, I didn’t know what I could do to help. That wasn’t some backwoods place in the middle of nowhere, Podunk, U.S.A. It was part of a major city which used to house millions of people. It was full of the enemy. Most of which seemed to think lining the bank and reaching for us was their favorite pastime. I didn’t see any way to get around the horde.

  I told Laura as much, “I don’t see how we can reach you through the press of the enemy. We are traveling toward what we hope is a safe haven. Once we get there they will be able to come up with some idea to help.”

  She replied, “No, please, you don’t understand. We have three hundred and twelve people here. Most of them are just kids. We’re running out of food. If you can’t help us we’ll all starve. There must be something you can do!” Well, hell. What do you say to that?

  “I’ll see what I can do. I won’t just take off without at least telling you, you can be sure of that. But I’m gonna need a minute to come up with a plan. How many cars do you have? If we can clear the way can you reach us?”

  Her answer wasn’t too promising, “We don’t have enough cars to fit all the students. There has to be another way!”

  “Calm down. Let me think this through. First off I need some directions...”

  Laura and I went over things for a while and eventually I began to hash a plan together. I asked my wife to make the rounds and gather up any and all the flares she could lay her hands on. A lot of boats have those for emergency purposes. Also, I asked Felicia to tell all of the captains that we’d have a helluva lot of company soon, assuming everything worked out. With all the extra boats we’d picked up along the way there would be enough room, but it would be a tight fit.

  I got back on the radio with Laura, “You’re a school, right? Do you have any school buses there?”

  She answered, “All we h
ave is a short buss in the parking lot.” I guessed that would just have to do.

  I asked her, “You guys got a math teacher there?” She answered in the affirmative.

  I said, “Good. I got a story problem for him.” I always hated those things in high school. “If the school has X number of cars and one bus that can hold Y number of kids, and there’s a total of Z number of people that need to get from point A to point B, with the duration of each trip being T minutes long, how much time will it take to escape a rampaging horde of murderous cannibals?

  “My plan is for you to, eventually, make a beeline for the nearest point of the canal. I’m going to need to know how much time it will take for you to get everyone in position. Right now my best idea involves setting off a lot of flares as a distraction. Maybe we’ll even throw in a little music and see if that helps. The zombies don’t seem to like jumping in the water too much.”

  She had some understandable concerns about how well thought through my plan was. She asked, “If you make a distraction along the canal won’t that draw in even more ‘zombies’ from further in the city? All of the infected around the school might move on, but won’t even more come to take their place, also being drawn by the flares?”

  I elaborated, “My idea is to fire off flares from two points along the canal. One point about five miles southwest of the school and the other point about five miles northeast of your school. Hopefully, all the zombies drawn off their current locations will gravitate toward the nearest point. That should keep them from straying across the school grounds and maintain a relatively safe zone leading to the canal.”

  I knew she was desperate when she didn’t terminate the conversation right there. “What are we supposed to do once we reach the water?” she asked.

  “That’s where things get a little dicey. We’re working on getting as many flotation devices ready as we can. Once you all reach the water, you jump in and grab a life vest, or whatever. Then we come along and pick you all up. We’re having trouble getting enough vests to go around but we’ll think of something. How well would you say the kids swim?”

  “That’s insane!” she all but shouted into her microphone, “Why not just have some boats waiting for us when we reach the canal?”

  “It’s not that simple. The zombies have fallen into a prolonged habit of following us around. I’m concerned that if we leave boats for you then the zombies will follow those boats right to where you’ll be bound to show up. Maybe any such zombies would be lured off by the flares and maybe not. We only have just so much distraction material to work with so we only get one shot at this.”

  On a different subject, I was curious, “Why haven’t any of you at the school become infected?”

  Laura answered, “It’s like the infection just passed us by. No one even got sick.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen that sort of thing before,” I replied. At least the school kids hadn’t rioted, burning down their own shelter.

  She asked, “How will you get the life jackets in place if you won’t send a boat out?”

  “One group will have to go pass that location in order to fire flares from our forward position. On the way by they’ll drop off all the life vests, then continue to draw off as many of the enemy as possible. I’ll also try and see if I can leave a rope or two tied off to help the kids get down into the canal, but no promises.”

  “How will we know exactly where along the canal we should be?” Good question.

  “We’ll leave the flotation devices under the Tri-State Tollway. Your approach will be from the east so that’s where we’ll drop them off. You should see them floating about twenty feet from the bank.”

  She wanted to know, “When will we know when to start?”

  “The zombies are pretty slow. I expect that we’ll have to wait at least two hours from the time we start setting off the flares before you should begin your exodus. What I’m really worried about are the fast ones. We need to give them as much time as possible to get away from the school. I’ll call when when I think that it’s time to move.

  After all that I had to get organized with all of our crew. It took the rest of the morning before I finally got all of our life vests in position. We used some spare anchors to keep the vests from floating away. Come nightfall, all was ready.

  I was with the forward group because I had wanted to make sure of the life jacket placement. My wife asked me, “Paul, do you think this will work?”

  Felicia wasn’t the kind of woman who constantly wanted reassurance. So I gave her a straight answer. “I have no idea. If everyone can follow instructions and doesn’t fire off to many flares at once, then maybe.”

  At sundown we began firing off flares. I called Laura and reminded her to not jump the gun. After the two hour waiting period had elapsed, I told the teachers that it was time to get moving. It took them about a half hour to get everybody in the first load into the water and tied off to a life vest. Many of the kids had to share. Then they went back for the rest.

  The kids had to be crammed into the cars like sardines. Three in the back seat with three more on their laps. Two more in the passenger seat up front plus a couple more in an open trunk. The short bus was no better off. Standing room only in the isle and two to a seat. It was my understanding that there was no singing on that trip. About all I can say in its favor was that it was only about five blocks to the canal.

  It was during the second trip that the flares gave out. We all kept playing music as loudly as possible and kept all of our lights shining bright. I could see an army of runners all clogging the bank trying to figure some way out to us. I saw a few splash in. Then some of the slower sort followed them in. I had to figure that the same thing was happening at the other flare point. I hoped that the zombies didn’t get taken by the current (such as it was) and moved into the floating children.

  I called out to Tony, “Hey, Tony, lets get a few boats together and head back to round up the kids.” It seemed strange to call out my intention with the enemy able to listen in only a few feet away, but the zombies remained oblivious to anything except their single minded murderous intent. I doubted that they could hear us over the increasing volume of their own moaning, in any case.

  Tony got a few others together and we made our way back to the pick up point. We made sure to turn all of our lights off for the trip. All that time I’d been in contact with Laura and the other school staff so I had some notion of their estimated time of arrival with the second, and hopefully final, load of kids.

  We had just about enough time to pick everyone up when the second group showed up and they all began plunging into the water. We moved over and began fishing them out of the drink. A number of them had improvised flotation devices fashioned out of emptied water bottles and string. Somebody must have ransacked the vending machines and the recycling bin to get the materials necessary.

  I asked the nearest adult that we brought up, “Where’s Laura?” She pointed her out to me. Laura looked to be about thirty-five and had the appearance of someone who, until recently, had been a bit overweight. I went over to congratulate her on a job well done.

  “Hi, Laura, I’m Paul. Nice work getting everyone away so clean.”

  She responded, “I have to go back.” I wish I could say that I was surprised, but in my experience, something always goes wrong.

  “So, what went wrong?”

  She said, “We just didn’t have enough room. Jerald, Dean, and about ten more children are still back there. I know how to drive the bus. Just get me back to shore.”

  I looked over to Felicia and she just rolled her eyes at me. Then I said to Laura, “Don’t worry, I’ll go get them. Where are the keys?”

  She said, “They’re in the ignition. But I should come with you!”

  “Just stay here with my wife. She’ll look after all of you just fine. I’ll be right back.”

  With that I jumped over the side and made my way to the waiting treeline. Once on the bank, I saw all the cars lined
up on what looked like an old time toe road someone had paved. The bus was in the back with the keys in the ignition. I put it in gear and began backing along the road.

  Thanks to my earlier conversation with Laura I knew the way. It wasn’t difficult. I just followed that old road out and around. It crossed a much smaller looking canal which ran parallel to the main canal. From there it was straight on through residential until the school appeared on my right. Not a zombie in sight.

  As soon as I pulled the vehicle into the fenced in school lot, I saw a bunch of teachers and kids running toward me. From my point of view the whole situation had turned out to be a cake walk. They weren’t being chased. We weren’t under fire. Basically a walk in the park. Natch, that’s when I saw three runners closing on my location from the other direction.

  No sooner had the last teacher got on board then the foremost enemy slammed into the closed door, cracking the plastic, and bending it back in its groove. I saw another one trying to force its way through one of those tiny school bus windows, while the third was jumping around the bus top. It was busy making a loud keening wail, no doubt designed to bring in reinforcements.

  I already had my pistol out, of course, and took aim at the one trying to force its way through the door. It managed to smash a hole in the plastic but that was just as well. It gave me the time I needed to line up a shot and blow its brains out. Then I turned on the one half way through a window and managed a snapshot that took the life out of it.

  As I got the bus moving I saw three more bald, pasty skinned horrors jump over the school yard fence and make straight for me. The enemy on the roof was unprepared for my acceleration and was thrown off the top of the buss, landing on its feet somewhere behind the vehicle.

  I got the vehicle up to speed with all four horrors keeping pace nicely. Every now and again one of them would try throwing himself at the side of the bus, but to no avail. About three blocks into our journey one of them tried for another window. Its head came smashing through with one arm extended before it. There was no way I could twist about in my seat and still keep the bus on the road. So I yelled at one of the teachers, “Take the wheel!”