A screech pulls my attention back to the horde. Dead people have overrun the dock completely. They’re trying to leap onto the boat, but are hobbled. All are falling off the edge and splashing in the water. I watch one thrash and sink. It has nothing to hold on to so it disappears into the darkness below.
Ian looks to Markus. “Find the diesel and see if you can turn it on. Hurry!” The boat is big. Its black painted masts are shiny and slick and tower over me like colossal tactical batons. Sailboats have always scared me. Lines of rope hang on hooks and in clusters by the masts and on the side railings. Rope ladders lead up both sides of the masts, all the way to the top. Most of the deck is flat, except for a pilothouse back by the wheel, just behind the rear mast, and a waist-high sitting area between the masts. In the front of the boat is a really long bowsprit — a large wood pole that juts out from the front of the ship. All the sails are tied up.
Ian yells out from the front of the boat. I hurry over to him. He’s got a long pole with a hook on it. He’s trying to hook the rope that’s tied to the rowboat.
“Hold me. The line fell and I can’t quite reach it,” Ian says. I hold him by the waist and let him lean over the edge. His pole snags the line and he pulls it in.
“Smart move, saving the rowboat,” Markus says as he hurries up to us.
“Thanks. I figure, since none of us are too experienced, it would be a good idea to have a life boat. There’s a small inflatable back there, but we all wouldn’t fit on it comfortably.” I follow as he takes the line still tied to the row boat and walks it to the back of the Pioneer, then ties it to the back rails.
“Ian!” Ben yells. “We need to get off the dock, dude. And, like, right now!”
“Cabin is locked!” Markus yells.
Ian runs to the front of the boat and unties a line. Isabella loads and pumps her shotgun. She shoots a puppet who’d found one of the bumpers protecting the boat from hitting the dock. I run to the pilothouse by the rear mast, kick the door open like I’m raiding a drug house, and go downstairs. Finding the motor is easy. It’s a rebuilt Yanmar Diesel. Josh follows me. It was definitely upgraded since the thirties. I didn’t have time to find the keys so I pull out my multi-tool from my police belt and pop off the control panel. Sure enough, there’s an electronic ignition. I rip it off. No need for that anymore. I hot-wire the starter just like I did at the boathouse in Swindler’s Cove. The engine fires up. It sputters. I pull on the throttle, giving it strength. It purrs solidly.
I run back up top. Ben and Ian are batting off puppets, and Isabella is smacking them with the butt of her shotgun.
“The lines are tied to the dock, Ian!” Markus yells.
“Chop them!” Ian replies. “Leave the spring line ‘til last! That’s the long one over there.”
Isabella flips her gun around and shoots point blank at a line that holds the boat to the dock. I run to the last line and hack at it with my knife. The spring line snaps. The Pioneer is free. She rocks away from the dock. A handful of puppets fall into the water. I reach out and grab the side railing. There goes that stable feeling.
Ian runs to the wheel. “Where’s the throttle?” He finds it and bumps it into gear. The motor catches the prop gears and the boat starts moving forward. I fall to my butt and try to stabilize my chemistry. Tanis runs to me and gives me a hug. I can feel his relief.
Ben yells, holding the bat over his head like a victorious warrior. Markus puts his Bible on his forehead and thanks God. Rice runs to Ian and jumps up and down, holding onto his shoulders. Josh swears at the puppets receding into the background. Isabella sits and cleans her face and arms. I can tell she is happy underneath that thick skin. She radiates relief whether she wants to or not.
I look to Tanis. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“TO EDEN!” Ian yells, the city of New York slowly drifting away.
Chapter 1.21
Tanis:
I told Hana I was fine, but I’m not. I feel better now that we’re on this gigantic boat, but what I really want is to see my Ma. I accept that my Dad is probably one of those puppets, but what about Ma? I don’t have any brothers or sisters to worry about, but I have a dog named Kat and a fish named Birdy. Yeah, I thought up those names. I don’t know why. They’re funny to me.
“What’s so funny?” Hana asks. I tell her about my pets.
“That’s great. I like those names,” she says with a big smile.
I go to the side of the boat and watch as the tall skyscrapers get smaller and smaller. Hana puts her arm around me. “I’m glad you got my back,” I tell her. Then I flip off the puppets that are clustered at the dock, lookin’ dumb as rocks.
I see Andy looking at me. “It’s okay, buddy.” I take his shoulder and guide him to the railing. “Go ahead and flip those bastards off. Put up your middle finger and hold the others down.”
Andy’s eyes narrow. “I know how to flip the bird. I’m not a baby.”
Tanis laughs. “No, you’re not.”
The three of us flip off the puppets and yell.
After some silence, Hana pushes me gently. “What’re you thinking?”
I look down at the water rippling past the boat. “I wanna go home.”
She takes a deep breath. “So do I.”
“I’m going to find Rice.” Andy walks away, his head low.
“How do I know my Ma isn’t locked up in our house waiting for me?” I ask Hana.
“We don’t.”
“I think I wanna know. And Andy will probably want to know if his parents are out there.”
Hana takes me to Ian who’s steering the boat through the Upper Bay.
“Ian, I need to know if it would be possible to make a pit stop,” Hana asks.
Ian must have been feeling jazzed and pumped. “Full tank of gas. No way to get attacked by the walkers. Where you thinking? Want to go to Greece real quick?”
“How ‘bout Forest Hills?” I ask. “Tanis wants to see if his mother survived.”
“Woah!” Ben approaches, butting his nose in. “Let’s stick with the plan. Markus says that radio message, the one about Eden, is coming from Cuba. That’s a long way off, so we should go now. Eden is civilization now. Hot showers, you know?”
“You may not give a shit about your family, but I do,” I snap. “What if my Ma is waiting for me? She could be locked up in the house, yo. You don’t know.”
“Sorry, Tanis,” Ian answers. “I have to agree with Ben. This boat needs to get us thousands of miles south. Any deviation may bring us too much trouble. We’re in survival mode.”
“Let’s vote on it,” Hana suggests. “It’s just a bit north and won’t take us too far out of our way. You can stay on the boat.”
“I can almost guarantee you, mom ain’t gonna to be there, kid,” Ben says.
I want to box his head in. “You’re here,” I reply, then I repeat Hana’s idea, “Can’t we vote?”
“This isn’t a democracy. Not now. Once we get to safety we can try to find your folks.” Ian won’t budge.
“What do you have against voting, Ian?” Markus asks. “Maybe we should vote. It seems to have worked for our culture in the past.”
Ian laughs. “It rarely works! Voting has lowered standards, increased bureaucracy, and rendered entire environmental efforts dead. Vote for a President; you still go to war. Vote for judges; they still get bought off. We vote and we get shit. Politicians spend more time campaigning than actually trying to fix anything.”
“I actually agree with you about voting,” I interrupt Ian. “It’s useless and leaves the important stuff for everyone to agree with, and that sometimes crashes and burns. So let’s not vote. Let me barter instead. Get me as close as you can. I’ll be gone for five hours. Any longer and you can leave without me.”
“I’m confused. Where does bartering come in here?” Ben says in his ass-face tone.
“I’ll bring us back at least five gallons of diesel fuel,” I say. “So the barter i
s, Ben, five gallons of fuel for five hours of time.” I sneer at Ben then turn back to Ian. “I know where to get the gas.”
Markus pleads with Ian. “Let the boy try. He is, after all, a child in need of closure.”
“I’m not a child, old man,” I whip. I am definitely not a child. I know more than most adults do. I can program a registry bug, squat on a multibillion-dollar corporation’s website, rebuild any PC, operate it with style, and. . . I can get a hacker into the mainframe control system of a secret Department of Defense’s premier satellite management office.
I feel a pang of guilt, like some invisible hand reaches through my rib cage and squeezes my heart. I haven’t thought about it since I was trapped in the building. I helped Zilla slow down the military’s ability to effectively quarantine the island of New York during an outbreak. The bug probably disrupted air traffic control and international communications. It kicked all the first responders in the ass. And that was all the virus needed, a way behind the firewalls. I turn from Ian as tears flood my eyes.
Ian puts his hand on my shoulder, “Fine, lil man. Good deal. I’ll even help you.”
“I will too,” Hana offers.
“Sorry, I ain’t dyin’ for your closure, kid,” Isabella says as she crosses her arms. “But we do need the fuel. Maybe some other shit.”
Ben looks surprised then rolls his eyes. “Someone has to stay with the boat!”
“That’s you!” Isabella snaps. Ben steps away from the group.
“We go to the house and bring back Tanis’ mom, plus the fuel, and any other supplies we can carry,” Ian says, addressing everyone. He looks at Josh. “Up for a shopping spree with Isabella?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Josh answers.
“I’ll help shop.” Markus nods to Josh.
Rice looks at Ian. “I — I can’t do it. I won’t put Andy through that either.”
Ian shushes her, “No worries, Rice. Stay with Ben. You three will be fine on the boat.”
Ian turns the Pioneer northeast. I watch the compass turn slowly, praying we’re not making a colossal mistake.
In the morning light, yellow and black smoke color the blue skies. There are still fires burning all over the city. I see a skyscraper shedding its skin, exposing steel bones.
We sail — well, drive with the engine — down the Upper Bay and hug the coast until we are heading back up to Rockaway Beach. We pass under the Marine Parkway Bridge, or what’s left of it. The span had been blown to bits by the military like all the other bridges. Ian has to turn sharply to avoid hitting a cement pillar poking up from the water. Metal girders and large sections of roadway jut out of the water, but we pass through safely.
We move slowly between the beach and the mainland peninsulas. I think the bay is called Jamaica Bay, or something. I’ve never gone to the beaches out here. The water is too cold and there are always a bunch of hippies running around. At least, that’s what my Dad always said.
Ian moves the boat around the small islands in the middle of the bay. Josh says the tide is high so the islands are at their smallest. Ian steers us around them like a pro. The rocking of the boat actually feels pretty good to me. When we first started sailing I thought I was going to get sea sick, but that rolling feeling in my stomach stopped hours ago. Ian stops the boat as close to the shore as he can. He bitches about how the radar and the depth meters got fried by the EMP.
I see a small wooden dock on the beach that is too small for this boat. To the east is another blown up bridge. Cross Bay Bridge.
“This is it,” Ian declares. “If we go closer we’ll hit bottom.” He kills the engine and runs to the front of the boat. I watch him hit the release lever that drops the anchor. “I don’t know much about anchors, so I hope this works.”
We all climb down the ladder and one by one get into the familiar wooden rowboat. Ben, Rice, and Andy stay behind. It doesn’t take us very long to row ashore. The rowboat bumps into the small kiddy dock. The dock was probably used by people to fish from. Ian ties the boat to a post and we all get out. I follow Isabella and Ian down the dock to the shore.
The shore is pretty quiet. We move quickly down a sandy path that cuts through a bunch of thick bushes. Beyond the bushes are a line of trees that conceal homes. There’s something on fire over the horizon. Black smoke fills half the sky. Other than that, it’s a nice day. I’m sure my Ma and Kat are hiding in the house, waiting for me. I’m feeling jazzed.
Ian stops and shakes sand from his shoes. “Let’s split up, three and three,” Ian says. “Isabella, help Josh and Markus get food and water. Tanis, Hana and I will go with you to get your mom. We’ve got four hours. The tide will be moving out after that and we don’t need to get stuck in the bay.”
Isabella hands Ian her shotgun.
“I thought you didn’t lend out your guns,” Ian says with a smile.
“Yeah, I don’t,” she says, her expression flat. I wonder if she ever smiles. She’s a pretty chick, but also kinda scary. I’m glad she’s with us though.
We move fast. This is my neighborhood so I know exactly how to get home. We move up Cross Bay, pass businesses and houses until the road becomes Woodhaven Boulevard. It’s a major street, lined with shops and trees. I’m surprised at the lack of cars on the road or in the parking lots. Did the EMP hit out here? “Ian, should we see if a car works out here?” I ask.
Ian points at me, “Good idea.” He runs to the oldest car we see. The door opens easily. The cab is empty. He gets in and finds the keys still in the ignition. He tries the starter, nothing. After a few more tries he gives up. “Dead. I guess the EMP hit out here also.”
There are houses to our right and more shops to the left. We’re getting close to the park. We come to more cars that have jammed up the road. In between the cars are puppets. They turn toward us as we get close. A fat old lady with white hair and a yellow dress startles me as I run by a car. She grabs me! I scream and push her away. My hands sink into her huge boobs and I feel like the rolls of fat are trying to pull me in. She stumbles back and I slip away. She didn’t feel real. It was like pushing on a sack of water, not a person.
At this point I’m not too worried about the puppets. There aren’t many and they’re slow as snails. Maybe they can hear us, or smell us, maybe both. No doubt they’re coming. For now, we’re moving too fast for them. A puppet in a baseball uniform tries to grab me as we run by. I smack him across the face. Hand’s off, fool! I say to myself.
Ian isn’t wasting any bullets. He’s getting good at taking them down by hammering their knees like Isabella did at the Seaport. Hana just avoids them all. And every moment brings more of them. Dozens now.
We get to Forest Park in no time. Must have only been, like, four miles from the bay. I slow as we approach the park. It’s just a bunch of trees and walking trails. Beyond that are some tennis courts and a golf course. We pass by the big apartment clusters to the right. There are puppets in the parking lot and coming out of the buildings. One building, away from the road, is burning down.
Ian is ahead when he stops. I catch up and see what he sees. It’s a group ahead of us at the intersection. Hundreds of them.
“Gotta cut into the park,” I say.
“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” Ian comments.
We cross the parking lot for the baseball and soccer fields, then head for the soccer field. It too has puppets stumbling around, like drunk asses on a Saturday night, after a game, who don’t wanna go home yet. I start to feel bad. This is my park. I learned how to play baseball on that field. I flew my first rocket on this soccer field. It crashed into those trees. My eyes start to burn. I can’t cry now. I gotta get home first.
Suddenly, like we’re rock stars, the puppets turn toward us at the same time. My heart races into overdrive.
We get to the trees. This part of Forest Park is dense with trails and things to do. It’s huge, too. You could get lost in here. I would take my dog here almost every weekend. We run by a car th
at had pulled off the road and driven down the trail before crashing and burning. I see some charred body hanging out the window. It’s really like a forest. We can’t see very far ahead, but we keep running.
We pass a small group of puppets: women, children, and guys, old and young. When they hear us, they turn and lumber toward us.
I take the lead and cut through the park. Ian and Hana follow. I’m running fast, like a cheetah. I slide to a stop on the slick leaves. My shortcut is blocked. I’d wanted to run over a small hill and cut across Myrtle Avenue, but there’re too many of these damn things.
“Where do we go, Tanis? Quick!” Hana blurts out.
I turn around. That isn’t a good idea. The puppets we passed on the soccer field are following us. I gotta get home. Turning back is no good. “We have to go all the way to that end and cut back to my house. Like a big half circle.”
“Let’s do it,” Ian pushes.
I jump into a thicket of ferns and run. We bushwhack as fast as we can. Finally, the bushes clear. There are tall, thin trees here and it’s easy to see and run through. I pick up the pace. I find a decent crossing at Myrtle. Ian only has to take down two puppets.
Then I find a clear path all the way to the railroad tracks. Man, I used to love this area. We run across the tracks and then slow down. We’re all out of breath.
Finally, we get out of the forest. It’s weird to transition from forest to city, like flipping through TV channels. We fly by some puppets that were stumbling around a cafe, knocking over tables, then we cross Metropolitan Avenue. I turn onto one street then another. “Here’s my street.” I pass by a wreck of four cars smashed into each other. I recognize a bumper sticker. It was my neighbor’s car. Then she steps out and reaches for me. It’s Mrs. Garfield.
She had been a nice old lady, but had kinda always reminded me of Garfield the Cat. She used to pay me to shovel her sidewalk after snowstorms. She looked now just like she’d always looked, except for the pits where her eyes had been. Her hair was all done up in thin curls. She had on the same orange flower-pattern dress she always seemed to wear.
6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 Page 18
