Apocalypticon x-2

by Walter Greatshell

  But very quickly-shockingly quickly-the Xombies were back on the offensive, their numbers replenished by hordes of new arrivals, as well as all the active severed limbs and body parts squirming underfoot. Such chunks now became a significant hazard, flopping around like rabid squirrels and latching onto passing ankles, scrabbling up under robes. Freddy's revenge. The battle became desperate, a chaotic scrum of flying blades and swearing futility, so that any second the boys expected to wind up alone on deck with an orgy of ghouls.

  Momentarily left alone, Sal, Todd, and Ray quickly managed to loose their slipknots-but there was nowhere to go. They were surrounded, trapped in the bottom of the barge with grisly combat raging in front of them, their backs to a sheer, twenty-foot-high wall of shipping boxes that comprised the lowest tier of the pyramid. There was no cover, nowhere to run.

  "What the fuck do we do now?" hissed Todd.

  "Take a number," Ray said. "They'll call us when it's our turn to die."

  Struck with a duh moment of inspiration, Sal said, "Wait, I thought these suits were supposed to protect us!"

  "Not from Reapers."

  "No, that's my point!" Gathering up the slack lariats, he wound them around a cleat and dropped the lassos into the open grease pit.

  Trying to stop him, Todd said, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

  "Leggo!-you're right, it's not Xombies we need to worry about."

  "Yeah, but I'm not ready to trust my life to this suit-thing didn't come with no warrantee."

  "It's our only chance!" Sal said. "We have to get past them to the boats!"

  "Riiight," said Ray, nodding dully. "With those assholes up there shooting everything in sight? Awesome idea."

  "Most of them just got out of bed-they don't have a clue what's going on. They're not paying any attention to us because they think we're Reapers. The only ones who know the truth are too busy fighting to do anything about it."

  There was a sudden eruption from the bilge-a fountain of splattering grease as Xombies started spurting out like newborn reptiles. Crowding each other, drooling slime, they clambered over the suited boys, shoving past them toward more likely subjects.

  Ray freaked out a little as Voodooman crawled over him: "Sick, man-don't touch me! Oh my God, oh my God…"

  "Follow me!" Sal shouted, bolting. Todd shrugged and followed.

  Ray thought, That's crazy, but if Todd was going, so was he. No way he was staying behind with these nasty things popping up out of the deck like disgusting fetuses. He grabbed his samurai sword and ran.

  The deck was a vision of hell, demons alive and dead closing in on every side, and Sal didn't think they were going to make it. The boys hacked wildly, neither knowing nor caring if those they chopped down were human or otherwise. Then they were pushing through incoming Xombies at the rail and vaulting over, Sal's flesh mitts giving excellent purchase as he clung to the rope netting on the opposite side.

  Shit-it was a longer drop than he'd thought. But the boats were there: several dozen light watercraft of various types-Jet Skis, Zodiacs, Boston Whalers-all moored around a string of bright yellow pontoons chained to the barge. Todd was already clambering from one pontoon to the next, heading for a pod of Jet Skis at the end.

  Jumping down to the wobbly platform, Ray looked at Sal through their cactus-headed helmets, and said, "Whoa. Some grip, huh?"

  "Yeah, sticky. Move your ass." Sal glanced up to see armed Reapers descending by nets from the upper decks. The shooting let up while their comrades were in the field of fire. It was now or never. He followed the other two across the bobbing footbridge. Todd had managed to untie the mooring line that held all five Jet Skis together, keeping three while the rest drifted off on the current. Ray got on the second one.

  "You better let me on back," Sal said. "I never rode one of these before."

  "Are you serious?"

  "No-I'm into bikes, not boats. Move over!"

  "You can't-our suits can't touch."

  "Just let me on, and we'll figure it out!"

  Todd snapped, "No! Just get on one and do what I do!"

  Sal reluctantly straddled the third craft. "What now?"

  "It's like a motorcycle: Turn on the ignition and throttle up." He revved the handle. "Okay?"

  Sal tried it, nodded. "Okay."

  "Now follow me."

  They started forward, accelerating upriver. As soon as they cleared the shadow of the barge's hull, spurts of water began popping up all around them. One banked off the cowling of Sal's Jet Ski, leaving a deep gash. Oh shit, he thought, ducking low.

  But the shooting was sparse, disorganized, and fell off sharply as they moved out of close range. Obviously, the Xombies were the primary concern. The boys went faster as they got the feel for how the Jet Skis handled, really punching the gas as they passed the bogus paddle wheeler and made for the sheltering arches of the I-195 highway bridge.

  Sal stared up at the floating casino's towering superstructure, searching for any sign of Kyle in its upper windows. He knew the boy was probably dead, but the possibility that he was still alive and being tortured for information while they rode away was almost unbearable. If only he would see them and jump out a window, so they could pick him up. Come on, Kyle, come on…

  Then, incredibly, Sal saw something, something that made him slow to a puttering idle. There was a bright reflection on the glass, but for a second he could vaguely make out a face looking down at him from the highest window… then it turned away and was gone. Letting out his breath, Sal gunned his water scooter beneath the bridge and around the thick stone abutments to where Todd and Ray were waiting on the far side.

  "We made it, man!" Todd shouted as he pulled up. "We really made it! Holy shit!"

  Ray asked, "How we ever gonna get these suits off without that oxygen tent?"

  "Cross that bridge when we come to it!"

  "We did just come to it."

  "Oh man! This is excellent!" Todd was beaming, shaking his head in wonder. "So that's it, dude, that's it! We ditch these things and head back across town to the rafts, then hit the boat and tell the skipper everything we know. Should be a cakewalk now… long as the boat's still there." There was a hitch in his breathing, and suddenly he started to cry. The suddenness of the meltdown seemed to catch him by surprise. "What the fuck, man," he sobbed.

  Sal knew exactly what he was thinking because he had the same thought: Thirty-seven down, three to go. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You two go ahead without me. I'm not leaving just yet."

  Trying to collect himself, Todd didn't register the words. "What?"

  "I'm going back for Kyle."

  "You're what? He's dead, man."

  "I thought I saw him just now, when we passed that other barge. I don't know if it was really him or not, but I can't just leave him behind-not when it should have been me up there. I already left everybody else; I don't care about what happens to me anymore. I can't face going back to the boat if I don't at least try."

  "Are you crazy, dude? It's suicide! What the hell you think you're gonna do?"

  "I don't know."

  "Oh, great plan."

  "What I do know is that in this suit I might be able to pass for one of those Reaper assholes. They're all tied up fighting Xombies right now, so there won't be any better time. I'll catch them with their pants down."

  "So you're just going to sneak back, grab Kyle, and waltz right out of there?"

  "Pretty much. You saw that casino-there's only a few guys there with El Dopa."

  "That we know about." Dizzy with incomprehension, Todd said, "Don't do it, dude. We need you."

  "I have to. I'm sorry. I know it's messed up. You guys go on without me."

  "Fine. You know what? You suck. Go ahead-we're leaving."

  Suddenly Ray spoke up: "Uh, Todd? I don't think I'm going anywhere." Sheepishly, he held up his gloved hand to show some blood on it. "I think I been hit."

  It was true-Ray had been shot in the right side, the bullet pa
ssing through his Xombie oversuit and the various layers of material beneath. It was impossible to examine or treat the wound; the Xombie flesh puckered around it like a cat's anus. There was not much blood. "Just leave me here," he said glumly. "I'll only slow you down."

  "That's it then," said Todd, unable to hide his relief. "Sal, you have to come ashore with us. I can't carry Ray back by myself."

  Sal slumped, knowing he had no choice but to give in, to abandon Kyle just as he had abandoned all the others. He would have preferred to die, but Todd was right: Ray needed medical help. He needed both of them.

  "Nobody's carrying anybody anywhere," said Ray, grimacing from the pain. "Sal's right. I'm gonna stay right here, and the two of you are going to go get Kyle."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CLASS WARFARE

  "This is Alton Webb speaking. Due to Commander Kranuski having abandoned his post, I am taking emergency command of the boat. All senior personnel report to the wardroom."

  Webb knew that to certain people on board, these words would be as shocking and unwelcome as a fire alarm. And he knew exactly which ones would come running the fastest: those with the most to fear. The guilty.

  They didn't disappoint him. "What happened to Kranuski?" demanded Dan Robles.

  Perfectly composed, Webb replied, "I don't know, Dan-he's gone missing. We'll have a full investigation as soon as it becomes feasible. In the meantime, let's focus on the situation at hand."

  "You have no authority to command the boat," said Phil Tran. "Half the men outrank you."

  "No, they do not. Yesterday, Mr. Kranuski issued me a field promotion to commander. You're out of order, Lieutenant-as executive officer, I am next in line. End of story."

  Robles said, "I'm afraid we don't accept your authority."

  "Is that right? Is this a mutiny, then?"

  "No-what you're doing is mutiny. We're trying to run a clean ship. Just step aside, Webb, and put a real captain back on deck."

  "A real captain. Who would that be, I wonder?"

  "The only captain we have, the one who was assigned the duty in the first place: Harvey Coombs."

  "Coombs-what a surprise. Sure, let's put the saboteur back in charge. But then, you two are his unofficial representatives, aren't you? Did he tell you to get rid of Kranuski? And I suppose I'm next, is that it? Or am I supposed to conveniently back down and step aside?"

  Webb leaned away from the table, revealing his.45 automatic. All the other sidearms had been collected and locked up, he had seen to that. A silence fell over the wardroom.

  "Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen," he said, "but it ain't gonna happen. I know you two have been monkeying around where you don't belong-you've made your contempt for legitimate authority very clear ever since you backed Fred Cowper's little People's Revolution… and we've been paying for it ever since. Do you still think you did those folks any favors bringing them on board? Well, the social experiment is over. I'm returning this ship to principles of logic and discipline. Of which the first order of business is to eliminate the sabotage."

  "Sorry to tell you," said Tran, "but you've got the wrong guys."

  "I don't think so, I really don't. What I would like to know is what you thought to accomplish by keeping us here. Did you cut a deal with those river rats out there? Because at least that would make sense. Believe me, I've thought about it myself-I mean, if we're all there is, just us, no more Big Daddy telling us what to do, it's all over. Forget your country, your Navy, and your Uniform Code of Military Justice. Forget all your hopes and dreams. If we're going to survive this shitstorm, we're gonna to have to come up with a new way. Which is why I called you men here."

  "I thought it was to shoot us," Robles said.

  Webb nodded thoughtfully, bleakly, at them. "I still might," he said. "That depends on you."

  He knew this was going to be the hard part-harder even than killing Richard Kranuski had been, or cramming the man's body down the trash-disposal unit. Just as ugly… but just as necessary.

  "Listen to me," he said. "We can't go on this way. You and I know that. Men like Kranuski and Coombs are the past; they'd get us all killed because they can't cope with the kind of extreme changes that have taken place. There's a harsh new reality, a whole new playbook, and if we don't accept it, we're all going down with the ship. But if we do accept it…"

  "What?"

  "The sky's the limit."

  "How so?" asked Phil Tran.

  "Well, the first thing we have to accept is that our knowledge is a precious commodity in this world. The boat is worthless without us, and there are other nuclear vessels out there, other warships that just need trained crews in order to be functional again. We can train them. That means we can pretty much write our own ticket in this new society. Nobody can touch us."

  Tran scoffed, "The Moguls didn't seem to have any trouble."

  "The Moguls were different. They conquered us by dividing us. Deceiving us. It was Kranuski's mistake to believe them-a mistake I'll never repeat, believe me. Rich was my best friend, but he was stuck in the past, weak, and his weakness made him a danger to all concerned. Phil, I know how you felt about sending those kids ashore. Well, what happened to them is eventually going to happen to all of us if guys like Kranuski and Harvey Coombs call the shots. They're trying to cling to something that's gone. The truth is, we have a lot more to fear from ourselves than we do from scavengers-this boat is a death trap unless we get some outside help. There's no food left. In a matter of days, the rest of those kids are going to start dropping like flies, and that'll be the end of the Good Ship Lollipop. That rogue convoy out there is our only hope. Dammit-we need them. We need them. Probably more than they need us."

  Suddenly, the men became aware of a new presence in the room. It was Bobby Rubio-the little boy they had found floating in the gondola. He stood at the doorway, staring up at Webb with big, glassy eyes.

  "You killed him," he softly.

  Startled, Webb said, "What?"

  "You killed him."

  "Oh for God's sake, this is all we need. Get this kid out of here."

  "You killed him," the boy repeated. "I saw it."

  "Killed who, son?" asked Robles.

  "The captain," said Bobby. "I saw you kill the captain."

  "Give me a break," Webb snapped. "Beat it, kid! I'm warning you."

  Robles looked from the kid to Webb. "Did you kill him?"

  "No! Of course not!"

  "You did it, didn't you?" said Tran.

  "This is ridiculous." With a feeling of skidding on ice, Webb realized no one was going to intervene for him, not even those who had always backed him up: Jack Kraus, Bartholomew, Tom Nelson. Rather than tossing the brat out, they were just standing there and letting him babble on. The trouble, he realized at once, was that they were all former friends and allies of Rich Kranuski-any loyalty they had to Webb was merely a by-product of his relationship with that much more attractive and dynamic personage. A serious miscalculation.

  "You killed him," the kid repeated dully, like a squeaky windup toy.

  "I'll be damned." said Jack Kraus, staring at specks of dried blood on Webb's jacket. "You did kill him, didn't you, Al? I thought the two of you were like brothers."

  Scrambling for ground, Webb conceded, "We were! But there was no choice; he was going to release Coombs. I couldn't let that happen. This is exactly what I'm taking about-I did it for all of you. With Coombs in charge, we'd be right back where we started: with those kids and that Langhorne bitch having the run of the boat."

  "You're out of your mind," said Tran.

  "No, Rich was out of his mind-total Section Eight. You should have heard him going on about Fred Cowper's head. I only did what was necessary to save the ship."

  Robles stood up. "You're under arrest, Mr. Webb," he said.

  "Bullshit. You have no power to arrest me."

  "You're under arrest on charges of murder and sabotage."

  "Sabotage!"

  "You're
the one who needed the boat to stay here. You're the one who wanted to sell us out to the Moguls."

  "Bullshit! You're the traitor!"

  Tran stood up as well, edging around the table, and saying, "Easy now, Alton. Surrender your weapon before anyone else gets hurt."

  Backing away from them, Webb said, "Take one more step, and I'll shoot. I have the authority. One way or another, the sabotage stops here."

  Phil didn't stop, and Webb said, "You asked for it," and fired, hitting him in the chest. The man faltered, then shook his head and kept coming. Webb shot him again in the face, popping a neat round hole in his forehead and blasting a chunk out the back of his scalp. Tran's head jerked from the impact, but still he didn't stop. Wiping oddly colored blood out of his eyes, he came on with infinite patience. Nor did the others seem to find anything unusual about this.

  What the fuck?

  Retreating out the forward door, Webb cried, "Stay back! All of you!"

  Webb grabbed the little boy and carried him up the forward companionway. No one seemed to be following, and when he emerged two flights up at the command deck, there was no one in sight. So that's it, so that's it, he thought, not quite knowing what "it" was.

  "You're the crazy ones," he muttered.

  Hauling his unresisting hostage aft through the radio shack, the sonar room, and into the control center, Webb was disconcerted to find the whole first deck deserted. He hit the general alarm and dragged the boy into the CO stateroom, barring the door.