by Scott W Cook
Whenever we found a tight curve, I had him slow down to about twenty, though. The last thing we needed was to come around a curve lined by trees or worse, city buildings and see a stalled train in front of us or a semi parked across the tracks.
“Are we there yet?” Rivers asked groggily around lunchtime. She’d come out of the anesthetic and come up into the cab. I checked her wound, changed her bandage and put a sling around her arm.
“One more hour,” Tony joked, “How you feeling, Gunny?”
Rivers raised her left shoulder in a half-shrug, “Like I caught a .223 caliber round in the arm. How about you guys?”
“I’m feeling hungry,” Andy offered with a grin.
“What else is new?” Andrea said.
“I’m a growing boy,” Andy explained, “How am I ever gonna grow up big and strong like Tony if I don’t eat.”
Tony scoffed, “Nobody can ever be like me.”
“Thank the living Christ,” I joked, “Let’s eat what’s on board before we tear into one of our delicious meals ready to eat. Might as well conserve.”
“Probably healthier,” Andy said, “Even that clam chowder.”
Andrea and Tara took command of the food and heated up a variety of soup, chili and even the chowder. Rivers had that, stating that if anybody was to die from it, might as well be the most useless of us.
“Come on, Gunny,” I said, handing her the steaming bowl, “Don’t get down on yourself.”
She sighed, “I was supposed to be security, Skipper. And on our very first test, I got winged and had to be rescued by a kid, for Christ’s sake.”
Andy stopped a spoonful of chili halfway to his mouth and scowled.
She smiled, “I didn’t mean that to sound degrading, Andy. You did awesome, both in the fight and helping me out. It’s just that I was supposed to protect you. I feel like a real fuck up.”
“It happens,” I said, “Even to officers.”
“Yeah,” Tony said reassuringly, “I got pegged a couple of days before we got to Key West.”
“That’s right, Julie,” Andy said, “Guy had one job to do and gets shot on a boat in a chop by a bunch of biker assholes. Pretty pathetic, really.”
“Why you always pickin’ on me?” Tony whined, “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”
Andrea sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, “For God’s sake, Tony! How many times do we have to tell you… of course it’s because you’re black!”
Tony wiped a non-existent tear from his eye and sniffed, “I knew it… I knew it… then why do you keep me around?”
“Makes us feel superior,” I said with a grin.
Tony scoffed, “I’ll show you superior. Let me drop these drawers and you’ll know whose superior, white devil.”
Everybody laughed, including Julie, which was a good sign. This was no time for morale to suffer.
“You keep saying that,” Vicky said, “It’s like every five minutes… ebony vein stick… chocolate yardstick… the twelve inch shadow… sounds like a lot of big talk to me.”
“Yeah,” Rivers jumped in, “Stereotypes are hurtful.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed, “Always stereotyping us dark folk.”
“Even a big dick stereotype?” Tara asked.
“Well…” Tony admitted, “That one is okay.”
“Funny,” Andrea said thoughtfully, “Sam isn’t black…”
“Neither is Andy,” Tara said with a grin. Then her face turned beet red and so did Andy’s.
Tony roared with laughter and Vicky let out a long drawn out “ooh…”
Andrea had tears in her eyes, “My baby… my precious widdle boy… you’ve corrupted him, you hussy… you’ve despoiled his innocence!”
“For shame!” Tony jibed, “We’ll never marry him off now. And here I was looking for a nice dowry, like a plot of land or a couple of horses or some shit.”
Tara covered her face and Andy only shook his head, “I got your horse right here, big boy.”
Andrea’s eyes widened and she looked at Tara, “that true?”
“I…” Tara stammered.
“It’s okay, honey!” Andrea went over and hugged her, “We kind of figured, y’know.”
“Oh, balls…” Tara said and then smiled, “Well…”
“Our little boy is all grown up now,” I added.
“You guys,” Andy said, crossing his arms, “You all suck. Suck shit.”
“Hey, what’d I do?” Rivers asked, “I’d have probably banged you if she hadn’t.”
“Yeah, me too,” Vicky said.
“Oh, so it’s like that now?” Tony asked, “The good looking blonde dude gets all the chicks?”
“Aww…” Vicky said, patting his arm, “Maybe I’ll cut you a break, midnight zucchini… might even let you get a few licks in first.”
“Jesus…” Andy muttered.
Tony grinned, “Probably tastes like tacos… kind of makes sense when you think about it.”
“More like Vaca frita,” Vicky said without even blinking, “I am Cuban.”
Everybody was laughing so hard it took a minute to get under control. I raised a hand, “Okay, children. That’s enough bullshit for now. Give me a sitrep, Vicky.”
She consulted her board and turned back, “We’ve got clear sailing for a bit.”
Thankfully, there really was smooth sailing. We only had to deal with two more bridges that were open, the rest were closed. We ended up pulling into Jacksonville just after dark. The city was like most other cities, overrun with ghouls, quiet and partially vandalized.
Jacksonville is actually one of the largest cities in the country in terms of land area. However, except for its downtown region, it’s more of a metro and suburban sprawl rather than a dense city such as New York. The city is dominated by the St. John’s River, which is about a mile wide here near its mouth. I had never been to the naval air station, but I did know that it was situated along the river.
We stopped the train on the south side of the river and I had Tony shut her down completely.
“So how do we get on base?” Andrea asked.
“The base is situated along the river,” I said, “So I think there’s only one way we can. Based on those overflight and sat photos, there are thousands of zombies milling around. Going by land seems downright impossible.”
“I’d feel better if we could take a real look before we go in,” Tony said, “I’d feel better with some more accurate aerial recon.”
“Yeah…” I said thoughtfully, “Me too…”
“How can we?” Tara asked, “Go to the airport and steel a chopper or something?”
I grinned, “Well… not exactly. Too loud. I think there might be a way, though. We are going to have to steal, of course. We need a boat and we also need to find a Radio Shack or Best Buy or something. A Wal-Mart might even have what we want.”
“The trouble,” Vicky stated, “Is how we find them. It’s not like we can just ask Siri anymore.”
“There’s a hotel a few blocks away,” Rivers said after looking through one of the doors, “I think. It’s Dark, but I think it’s a hotel. They’re bound to have a phone book.”
We were in the downtown part of Jacksonville and although there were no zombies around at the time, we could hear them. An occasional mournful moan would float across the light breeze, and they always seemed to come from random directions, but cumulatively, from every direction.
I blew out my breath, “I don’t like the idea of walking around downtown at night with who knows how many thousands of flesh eating monsters lurking about. That’s just asking for trouble. As much as I’d like to get a few drones, which is what I was thinking, it’s not worth risking our lives over. Because if we have to start shooting G’s in this environment, we’ll never stop until we run out of ammo.”
Tony nodded, “I agree. I think we just grab a boat and drive right up next to the submarine and get aboard. Nice and easy.”
Everyone groaned at th
at. By now, we’d all learned the lesson that when it came to zombies, nothing was nice and easy.
We did have a bit of good luck, though. Not three blocks from where we’d stopped the train was a marina or a yacht club or something. The docks, although mostly empty, did have a few decent boats tied up to them. After Andrea and Vicky’s quick recon mission to the marina, we gathered all of our gear and headed in that direction.
“It’s probably better we’re leaving the engine,” Andy said as we were prepping, “The noise may have gotten some unwanted attention.”
That was confirmed when we were about a block away from the tracks. As we rounded the corner of a building and looked back, I saw a large group of shadowy figures shambling from the darkness beyond the locomotive. I couldn’t tell how many there were, but it seemed like a lot, and who knew how many ghouls were pushing them forward. I shivered and we kept going.
The marina was small, but did offer a variety of vessels. There was a sailboat, about thirty feet long, a couple of center console power boats, a forty foot cabin cruiser and even a houseboat.
“What’re we taking?” Tara asked.
“Whichever one has fuel and will start,” I said, “It’s not a long trip, so it shouldn’t matter.”
“Maybe we should try for the houseboat or cruiser,” Andrea said, “We can get some sleep before we go.”
I frowned, “Well, I think we should grab the boat ASAP. We can get the reactor ticking over and there are plenty of berths aboard. And we’ll be totally safe sealed up on the boat, rather than some pleasure craft. Let’s each take a vessel, see what’s what and then we’ll decide.”
It turned out that the houseboat’s batteries were dead, as was one of the fishing boat’s. I thought that was odd, even after six months or so, there still should be some juice left. The cabin cruiser was in good shape, with more than half a tank of diesel and good batteries that someone had taken the trouble to switch off. Although the interior was a bit musty, it would serve. The other boat was a twenty-five foot Robolo which also had plenty of gas and good batteries.
“Let’s take the Robolo,” I said when we all met again, “it’s fast, shallow draft in case we need it and it’ll serve. I don’t know these waters, and God forbid we run aground or some shit, it’ll be easier to deal with that boat than a big motor yacht or sailboat for that matter.”
We piled in, piled our gear in the bow and started the twin Yamaha one-fifties. It took a bit to crank them up, but they finally kicked over and purred in that quiet way that four-stroke outboards do.
Andy and Tara untied us and I guided the boat out into the river proper. The night, like the day had been, was clear and cloudless. Thousands of brilliant stars twinkled overhead and the gibbous moon was just rising in the east. Although there was light to see by, I didn’t put us on a plane. I kept us at about ten knots and we plowed down river toward the base.
‘Holy shit, Sharky…” Andrea said, “Good call on the smaller boat…”
Like they’d done at MacDill, the occupants of the naval base had scuttled two ships near the entrance to the docks. I wasn’t exactly sure what they were, but they looked like support vessels of some kind. Or had been. Now they just looked like gray hulks, half submerged and canted over in the river.
“Christ…” Rivers commented, “Based on what you said, Skipper, this might not have worked.”
I shrugged, “Or there were too many G’s on land. Not much room to maneuver here… barely a hundred feet between them…”
“Will we still be able to get the sub out?” Tara asked.
“Yeah,” Tony said, “The boat is only about forty feet wide. Should be okay. Although I’d prefer to wait until slack water, Sammy.”
‘Agreed,” I said, “Which I think is right about now… based on the moon, the tide is going to start coming in and will probably be full high at… one or two in the morning. Then full low probably at seven a.m.”
I eased the boat to a dead slow idle and we crept between the half-sunken hulks. Even as we did, still far out from the main section of the base, I could hear them. The moans of the dead filled the air before us and sent shivers up and down my spine.
“Fuck…” Vicky muttered, softly drawing the curse out.
“I concur, Commander,” I said barely above a whisper. I’m not sure why, but keeping our voices down seemed the thing to do.
I guided the boat along the piers until I saw the sail or conning tower of a nuclear submarine. I slid my NVG’s over my eyes and took a better look. Sure enough, the boat was tied up along one of the concrete piers just as neat as you please.
And the piers were covered in a living… or unliving… carpet of moaning ghouls, who were beginning to take notice of the very human noise of a boat engine.
“Fuck me…” Vicky breathed, “There must be ten thousand of the goddamned things!”
“Yeah,” I said softly, “but we got lucky for once. Somebody had the good sense to remove the brow. Or at least pull it back. There’s a good six foot gap between the end of the brow and the deck of the boat. No G’s aboard. I’m going to pull alongside and we’ll go aboard. Andy, Tara and Vicky go up first. I’ll pull up next to the sail to give us at least some cover. Take up shooting positions and cover the brow. If any stinky fuckers try and get aboard, dissuade them. I don’t see how they could, but you never know.”
I motored up alongside the submarine. The upper deck was about head high and a few feet away due to the curve of the cylindrical hull. Andy stood on the gunwale and eyed the space.
”Looks a little far to jump,” Andrea said.
Tony showed Andy a dock line, “There are flush cleats and pad eyes up there, kid. Once you’re up, secure this line to one and we can use it to climb up. We’ll toss you mooring lines afterward. Think you can make it?”
Andy eyed the jump. Standing on the gunwale, the deck was now only about chest high to him. The edge was still nearly six feet away, though.
He unslung his rifle and handed it to his mom. He then crouched low, took a breath and launched himself. The leap wasn’t that far for a guy in his condition and with his long legs, and he made it, or nearly. He landed with only the balls of his feet touching the curved hull and had to throw his arms forward to grip the edge of the textured decking. He Pushed up and balanced upright on the flat surface.
“Nice leap, baby!” Tara said with a grin.
Andy gave us a cocky smile, “Piece of cake. Toss me the line.”
Tony chuckled and heaved the bitter end to Andy, “You would’ve made it a prettier landing… y’know… but you’re white and all.”
“Words can hurt, too, Tony,” Andy said as he wiped a mock tear. There wasn’t a cleat where he stood so he pulled up a three inch pad eye, tied a quick bowline around it and stood up again, “Okay, secured. Toss me the dock lines and my weapon.”
Andy secured the fishing boat and helped Tara and Vicky climb up the submarine’s hull. He suggested that they each take up a position at either end of the conning tower and he’d assist with the offloading.
Quick note: the conning tower of a modern nuclear submarine is called the sail, although as a throwback to pre-nuclear days, conning tower is equally acceptable and interchangeable.
The offloading included helping Tony and Rivers to climb up as well. While Tony could use his left arm, the wound in that shoulder made it painful and awkward. Andy placed his feet on the curving hull and gripped the line in both hands. Tony could then climb onto Andy’s back and up onto the deck.
“Geez, Tony,” Andy griped after the bigger man used him like a jungle gym, “You don’t have to eat all the stuff in the MRE!”
That got a laugh and the finger from Tony.
“What about Julie?” Andrea asked, pointing at the Gunny’s arm, “She can’t use that arm at all.”
A shot rang out from the forward end of the sail. I grimaced because it was accompanied by a vast increase in moans and snarls from the horde all around us, held at bay by th
e water.
“What’s up?” Tony called.
Vicky leaned around the forward curve of the conning tower, “Sorry… one looked like he was about to come aboard from the edge of the brow… so I shot him. He just fell in the water, though.”
Even from the fishing boat I could tell she was a little freaked out. It was natural, but in the circumstances, not helpful.
“Be cool, Vicky,” Tony said, going to her side, “They can’t get us, we’re okay.”
“All right,” I said, turning back to the task at hand, “Let’s offload the gear and we’ll worry about the Gunny last.”
Andrea and I formed a chain. I stood on the gunwale and she handed me the packs and sleeping gear, which we took with us just in case. I then tossed them over to Andy and Tony who made a pile on the deck. I then handed Andrea the stabilizing line and she leapt across the gap, helped by Andy and Tony who caught her and steadied her on deck.
“Now what, Skipper?” Rivers asked.
I double checked to make sure we had everything and then smiled at her, “now I get to have you wrap your legs around me, Gunny.”
She grinned, “The major can hear you…”
I laughed, “Climb on my back and hold tight with your legs and your good arm… okay, great. Ready?”
She groaned and I stepped up onto the gunwale. The Gunny was small and compact but solid and although about the same size, Rivers was a bit thicker than Andrea. She weighed maybe a buck twenty-five or so, which wasn’t bad at all.
“Okay,” I said to Tony and Andy, “I’m going to walk up the curve. I’ll tie a bowline on my end and hang on. You guys pull and help me walk up, got it?”
Nods and thumbs up. I quickly tied a loop and put it around my right wrist and held on with both hands. I put one foot on the curving black steel. Thankfully, the hull was dry so my boot got some traction.
