Naomi glanced over the chunk of metal.
“Fucking peachy!” She could see the coastguard cutter slowly sinking behind them. “Good fucking riddance,” she muttered.
“Are you hurt?” Alex asked.
“As if you give a shit?”
“Jesus, you never let up do you?”
“Fuck off dip-shit.” She pushed past. There was no need to slam into his shoulder, there was plenty of room on the deck.
“I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Bunch of fucking old women and retards!”
“Charming.” God, what crawled up her ass? But he gave it scant attention. She has been like that since he met her, and he didn’t expect anything to change her – not even the end of the world.
Alex watched as she kicked open a hatch leading below deck and vanished into the dark confines. He had no idea where she was going. He didn’t think she even did, just making a show of leaving him behind.
“Whatever,” he muttered and continued on to the superstructure to join the others.
233
Troy, Frank and the others
Inside the superstructure of the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Troy followed the drunk priest out onto the metal steps that clung to the side of the superstructure. He’s not sure why he was following Frank, but something inside him knew he had to. He knew it sounded stupid, but he didn’t care.
Frank stood holding the metal railings as he gripped his bible in one hand. His nightgown blew in the wind.
Troy could see the devastation caused by the anchor, and in the distance, the coastguard ship was slowly sinking.
He marvelled at the powerful hoses that made a vast wall of impenetrable water pour from the sides of the vessel.
On the level below he could hear Smokie shouting into the handheld radio.
On the deck, he could just make out Naomi and Alex. Naomi was kicking open a hatch, and she vanished below deck.
He could also see a few others he knew scattered around the decking and on the metal steps. However, his vision was pulled to a person stood staring up at the group on the superstructure. Troy didn’t recognize him. He knew there was only two women aboard the ship when they arrived, and he knew the others – at least by sight, and this man wasn’t one of them.
Had he somehow got onboard from the coastguard ship?
A few others were pouring out of the superstructure to stand along side him. A woman held a pair of binoculars.
“Sadie-Marie,” he said. She was busy watching the coastguard boat sinking. “Ay, Jones, can I borrow them a minute?” He didn’t wait for an answer; he snatched the binoculars from the brown-haired woman.
“What you doing?” she shouted.
However, Troy took no notice; he was staring at the young man who was looking up at them.
The man looked dishevelled and dirty. He wore no shoes or socks and wore rumpled clothing. He looked like a homeless person who had been sleeping rough. His hair was greasy and a mess. But what drew Troy’s attention was his blood-shot eyes. The eyes of an infected!
234
Stu
On the water in a boat, heading to shore
Somewhere off the coast in New York State
The speed boat skipped over the water. Behind he could hear metal wrenching apart. He took no notice. All he cared about was finding Hanna.
As the boat reached the shoreline, he just steered it straight up the pebbled beach – grinding the underbelly onto the stones. The outboard motor roared now it was out of the water. It spluttered and cut off.
“Hanna, baby!” he shouted.
Stu jumped from the boat before it even finished moving. He stumbled and dropped to the pebbles onto his knees. Within a heartbeat, he was back on his feet, franticly searching the tree line.
The beach is empty of the living or infected.
Behind the woods a towering column of black smoke still drifted up from the remains of the burning island village.
There’re a few remains of people he once knew scattered about. It is a little hard to identify them, because so little remained – just a few scraps of flesh clinging to cracked bones.
However, he paid them no mind. The creatures had eaten all they could. None filled their stomachs here, creating a swollen Popper. They had all moved on, looking for more meat.
Seagulls and crows cawed and skipped between bodies, pulling tattered strips of meat from the bones. Their beating wings was the only movement.
“Hanna, sweetheart. Daddies here, baby.” He stumbled around the beach, checking the remains, in case his princess was sleeping. He batted seagulls away. She always liked to have a little snooze after meals. He remembered she could sleep anywhere, anytime – she was his sleeping beauty. He half expected her to be cured up in a ball.
He looked down at his hand, expecting to see the Kermit the Frog glove puppet, the one he was wearing to entertain Hanna when they were hit by another vehicle. It was gone, removed when they carried him to bed after he was knocked unconscious.
I could have been with her then. Why did they have to interfere? We could be together right now, if it weren’t for them and their meddling.
His eyes scanned the tree line. There was no indication as to which way his daughter had headed.
He dropped onto his knees onto the pebbled beach. He felt something in his pocket. It was the glove puppet; they had taken it off and rolled it up and put it there. Stu slowly pulled it on.
“Hi Kermy,” he whispered.
Tears started to flow down his face. He had no idea which way to head to find his daughter. He had been so close. He had almost reached her. He was within a few meters of her when everything went dark.
Then he heard the low threatening sound of guttural growling. It was the sound of a predator that had its prey in sight.
235
Smokie and the others
On a walkway on the superstructure of the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
“Smokie!” Troy shouted to get her attention on the metal landing below.
Smokie glanced up. She could see Troy pointing to a location on deck. She followed his direction to a lone man who was staring up at them.
She couldn’t identify the man. However, for some reason, the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. His appearance was unsettling.
“He’s infected!” Troy shouted.
This caused a stir around him.
“Infected! How can you tell?” Frank asked as he spun from staring at the ruined coastguard ship to give Troy his full attention.
Troy simply waved the binoculars.
“How did he get onboard? Was he already here?” someone yelled from behind.
“Everyone inside,” Smokie shouted above everyone else’s questions.
After a few more glances at the man below, who hadn’t moved a muscle, the group started to file back into the superstructure. Within minutes they were back inside the mess hall.
“Did you see where he came from?” Smokie asked Troy.
People were all talking at once, gathering into groups and raising their voices.
“Quiet everyone,” Smokie shouted.
Silence fell over the room.
“No. I glanced around, and he was there staring up at us.”
“How far gone is he?”
“Only his eyes have changed; they were bright-red – full of blood.”
Smokie started to stride back and forth.
“We must have missed him. He had to have been aboard the ship when we arrived.”
“Impossible,” Sue said. “Tia would’ve found him. We went over the vessel numerous times.” Sue knelt and rubbed Tia’s coat. The small dog waged her tail from all the attention.
“There’s no way he could have come aboard in the attack,” Smokie said, while thinking out loud. “He must have been hidden away somewhere.”
“But the red, itchy eyes only last a few days. He couldn’t have been here that long,” Mollie said, from her position close to the back wall. She hadn’t looked up. Her hair covered her face as she stared at the floor.
People murmured in agreement.
“Regardless of how long he has been here; we need to deal with the situation,” Smokie announced.
Just then Caroline and three others came bounding in, with their arms full of automatic weapons and handguns.
“Perfect timing,” Smokie said.
“Perfect timing? The situation has been taken care of; we just brought these back to share them out, so next time we’re not caught off guard,” Caroline stated.
“Change of plan. There’s an infected on board,” Smokie said as she reached for a Glock .22 mm, with a ten round mag clip. She released the clip to check it was full.
“Ah shit!” Caroline muttered. “It’s always fucking something.”
“Amen to that sister,” Smokie muttered in reply.
The weapons were handed out.
“Andy, is Lindell still there?” Smokie called into the radio.
After a few seconds of static. “He left a few minutes ago. He should be with you soon.”
“We have another situation. Lock the engine-room door and don’t open it for any reason, unless I radio through first.”
“Roger that,” Andy relied. He didn’t ask for an explanation.
Smokie turned her attention back to everyone in the mess hall. “We need to round people up. Get everyone up here and secured in this room. While a group of us goes and hunts ourselves an infected,” she said while slamming the clip back into the matte-black Glock. “And here I was thinking I was going to get some much-needed rest.”
236
Bachman, Emma, Ralph and Pete
Zone 4
The underground bunker
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
As they started to move through the building, it became apparent there weren’t many creatures in the area. Also, now the pods had been destroyed, there wasn’t anything controlling the ones that were. A few they could see out the windows were wandering about aimlessly – looking almost docile as if having no purpose.
“What’s the fastest way to Zone 8?” Bachman asked, while waiting for either Ralph or Pete to answer.
“Um, I would say the train track,” Pete said.
“Yeah, the underground train. And even if it’s not working, it’s still the shortest route from A to B,” Ralph stated.
As they worked their way down through the structure, they looked for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Bachman found another axe in a glass case, for emergencies. If this doesn’t qualify, I don’t know what does? he thought as he kicked the glass in.
The wet suit was now dry, and only squeaked occasionally. It was surprisingly comfortable as an item of clothing. And he knew it wasn’t much, but the slightly padded rubber gave his body an extra layer of protection.
Emma found a bucket and mop tipped over by the remains of an exploded person. She kicked the clump of hair off the mop and unscrewed the handle. She then kicked at the end until a section broke off to make a jagged, splintered point. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
It reminded her of Peter’s rake. It then dawned on her, in all the madness that she had forgotten about Peter.
Peter and Pete – what were the odds of that? However, they couldn’t have been more different in appearance and attitude. Were as Peter was tall and lanky, and looked like he was made all wrong, Pete was short and muscular, as if he spent all his spare time at the gym. Peter used to whine and moan and cringe, whereas Pete was quiet, confident and ready for a fight.
Ralph used his thick, muscular arms to prize a leg off a table. He slapped the hardwood leg down into his palm like a baseball bat. He was confident it would do some damage – unlike a circular baseball bat, his club had edges.
Pete rummaged through a cleaner’s cupboard and found a hammer. The weight was just right, and the clawed side would be useful. It wasn’t large, but one well aimed hit was all he needed.
With them all feeling more confident, now they had means to protect themselves; they exited the building and in single file ran across a patch of grass to the next structure.
The ash rained down over them, settling on their heads and shoulders. They brushed it away from their eyes and pulled clothing up over their faces. Bachman and Emma ripped a section of trouser leg from Ralph’s clothing, and made masks from it.
The falling ash made visibility bad; they could only see about twenty meters ahead through the curtain of grey.
At first, Ralph complained about breathing the dust in, saying it could be infected. His, and the other’s minds were put at ease when Bachman stated it was impossible to catch anything from it – the fire would have cleansed it completely.
They made quick progress as they raced between the buildings, leaving ruts and furrows in the thick ash. They only had to detour twice. Once when the area had a creature aimlessly wandering around, and the second time when they came across two creatures fighting – ripping into each other.
The fact the creatures were attacking each other was good news, as far as they were concerned.
The overall carnage took on a whole new meaning once they got outside. There was blood everywhere. In had literally run through the streets – now congealing and clotting up with ash.
After half an hour of running and ducking, and crouching, they made their way to Zone 1s underground train station entrance.
They all knelt, panting from the exertion. They hid behind a collection of bushes that had been turned grey from all the ash.
The large entrance to the underground subway system was clear. However, Bachman had a feeling they weren’t alone. He motioned to the others to keep quiet as he inched forward.
As soon as he cleared the bush a guttural roar echoed around him, as a large creature charged up the steps from the subway – like a huge trapdoor spider bating a trap, the creature was waiting for anything to come its way.
Bachman started to run, leading the creature away from the others.
237
Alex and Lindell
On deck of the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Alex didn’t know why Naomi pissed him off so much. She has always been an asshole. She was never nice. So why, each time they chatted did he expect anything different.
“Such a bitch,” he muttered as he headed back towards the superstructure. He could imagine everyone up in there regrouping. Possibly getting a Good-For-Us talk from Smokie or Lindell.
“Who’s a bitch?”
Alex spun around. Lindell was jogging up behind him.
“Naomi.”
“No surprise there,” Lindell said as he slowed to Alex’s pace.
“Thought you were in the superstructure?”
“I had a little mission down in the engine room.”
Lindell was sweating from all the running.
“The hoses?”
“Yeah, but Andy beat me to it.”
They walked in silence, with just the sound of the powerful hoses gushing over the sides of the vessel.
“How much power do you suppose those hoses take to keep running?” Alex asked.
“No idea, but I wouldn’t worry, not while the engines are switched on. There’re two huge engine blocks, each the size of a house.”
Lindell looked up. He expected to see some people out on the walkways around the main structure. It was empty, with no one in sight. He thought one or two at least would still be watching the coastguard ship sink – soaking in the victory.
“Strange. I wonder where everyone is?”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Alex said.
Then they rounded a container and saw the man just stood staring up at the superstructure. They could see he was a stranger, wearing dirty clothes with no footwear. He stood stock-
still, hands at his sides. In one hand he held a knife.
Lindell put a hand on Alex’s shoulder to stop him.
They both stopped about ten meters away.
“Who are you? How did you get on our ship?” Lindell asked.
The man didn’t jump in surprise. He simply turned as if on a turntable to face them.
“Look at his eyes,” Alex muttered.
But there was no need, it was the first thing Lindell noticed when the man turned around.
“Your ship? It’s not your ship. I was here first. You’re all trespassing on my property.” His eyes flared wide. Blood dribbled down his cheeks into his scruffy beard and to soak into his already sodden top.
“Get off my ship, before I make you.”
“We just need somewhere safe,” Lindell said, just buying time, while trying to work the young man out.
“I was here when the outbreak started. I was the only one who stayed when the others fled. It’s my ship. By maritime laws, I clamed it as my own.” Spittle flecked from the man’s lips.
Just at that instant Naomi came striding into view over the mans right shoulder, out of a swinging open hatch.
“Piece of shit boat, I can never find what I’m looking for. There’s got to be some drugs somewhere?” She halted when she realized she wasn’t alone.
“What the fuck are you two staring at?” she said, just as the figure between her and Alex and Lindell registered.
“And who the fuck are you?”
The man spun around. He raced directly at Naomi.
She stumbled back, landing hard on her backside. She tried to crawl away, scuttling like a crab. His bloodshot eyes made the fear of god run through her veins and chilled her blood.
The man grabbed her, and showing unusual strength, hoisted her to her feet. He gripped an arm around Naomi’s neck and forced the knife against the podgy flesh of one of her chins.
“Get off my ship. If you don’t leave, I will kill her,” he said as he dragged Naomi back to the hatch she just exited.
The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12] Page 51
