by Howard, Bob
By the time the Chief, Kathy and Tom got past the second landing, we had already reached our second ladder and climbed up to the vehicle deck. There were rows of Jeeps lined up the full length and width of the level. Some appeared to have been ransacked, but some still looked fully supplied and ready to send out on the next mission. It would be nice to be able to drive around in a sturdy vehicle, but roads were too unpredictable. You could be driving along a clear road for several miles and then run straight into a horde of infected dead walking right down the center line.
I didn’t get much chance to look at the Jeeps because Hampton had a firm grip on my shirt near the collar. He yanked me off my feet and down below the row of Jeeps nearest to us. Looking between the tires under the Jeeps I could see several pairs of legs moving toward the center of the upper level.
These were not the slow, dragging legs of the infected dead. These were people who were moving forward with a purpose, and we had managed to come up on their flank.
Colleen tapped Hampton on the shoulder and pointed at something, and I saw that she had spotted an open gangway that came up through the deck from somewhere below. There were men climbing out of the gangway like spiders, and they looked like they were closing in on their prey.
******
Cassandra didn’t meet with much resistance in the big galley of the ship because everything that wasn’t fastened down was in a pile at the forward end, and it was a good thing that she didn’t have to stop and fight her way through the infected dead because her pursuers had made it to the kitchen.
The boat people began fighting among themselves as soon as they found refrigerators that still worked and contained real food. There wasn’t much, and even if it was a little out of date, it was still food. When the leaders of the boat people made it through the cargo door, they had a little bit of payback on their minds, so they began throwing people back out the door into the water until they restored some order.
Once they were back in control, they posted guards on the storage area and then ordered everyone else to go after whoever it was who had tormented them from the cargo door. They said no one would eat until they had the person who had dropped their anchors back on their heads, and they didn’t think all of the infected that rained down on them had been an accident.
They all began piling through the kitchen door and across the galley, and one of them yelled that he thought someone had just gone up the gangway to the next level. The chase was on, and they ran like a pack of dogs after a rabbit.
Cassandra went up through the hatch at the top of the gangway onto the upper level and didn’t slow down. The day was hot and sticky, and the sun was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She ran for the middle of the vehicle level with the idea that she could hold off enough of them with her M4 and her Glock long enough for the people on the radio to arrive.
It had occurred to her that she might get to the vehicle level and find a Jeep sitting on top of the hatch. She also thought the bow of the ship would have a spectacular pile of Jeeps on it, but the Mercy Mission ship had been an ocean going ferry until it was converted to a hospital ship, and the upper deck was lined with rows of cleats sunken in the deck, and each Jeep had been chained into place. She was grateful for that small favor, but she wished someone would have been smart enough to put locks on the gangway hatches. She could close them, but she couldn’t lock them, so they wouldn’t even slow down her pursuers.
She gave brief thought to the possibility of just shooting them as they stuck their heads out of the hatch, but there were two hatches on each end of the upper level. She couldn’t cover two of them, so there was no way she could cover four. So, her best plan was to run as far as she could, shoot for as long as she could, and then jump from the port side of the ship if she had to. If the fall didn’t kill her, maybe she would be picked up by her rescuers.
Cassandra ran to the middle and found a good spot to take aim at the people who were after her. When she was ready, she saw that a steady stream of armed men were at the far end of the vehicle deck and had spread out. She took aim at one and fired then immediately looked for another target.
******
From our hiding place behind the last row of Jeeps we heard the first shot and saw someone go down, but desperate people do desperate things, and instead of ducking and shooting back from the protection of the Jeeps, they started rushing forward as they shot toward the middle of the level. If it was our survivor who had shot at them, she was a good shot, but after the first few rounds she was too busy avoiding being shot to fight them off. There were at least thirty or forty people shooting back at her, and even though no more were coming up through the gangway hatch, I was sure there would be more below.
Hampton led the way and ran across the first row of Jeeps until he was roughly two thirds of the way across. Colleen ran behind him, but she stopped at the middle row. They both took aim, and I saw immediately how well they worked together. I moved over two rows until I could see the backs of the boat people going in the direction of the shooter. Hampton gave us a little wave, and we each found a target.
Cassandra had given up some ground because the wild shots were hitting her Jeep. She was surprised by how quickly she was being forced to retreat and was afraid she was going to have to jump after all. She looked behind her and saw there were only a few more rows of Jeeps, but when she turned to try to get off another shot, she saw the man she was randomly aiming at go down. It looked to her almost like his head exploded all by itself. Then two more fell, their rifles flying from their hands.
Her pursuers had nowhere to go, so they came straight at her. She saw that there were too many of them to shoot before they would reach her, but she didn’t have a choice. She targeted one and shot him, but the man next to him got hit, too. This time the attacker flew backward instead of forward. She glanced over her shoulder and saw one of the biggest men she had ever seen, and he was sighting down the barrel of a rifle at the wave of attackers. After he shot one, he paused just long enough to give her a broad smile.
More shots came from behind her, and she turned the other way and saw a pretty blond and a tall, athletic looking man also shooting. They were outnumbered, but they had the discipline to stand still and find their targets while the attackers spent too much time dodging and running.
With nowhere to hide when the shots were coming from both sides, the last of the attackers tried to jump from the vehicle level. Some managed to jump far enough to clear the railings of the lower decks, but several hit the railings and then cartwheeled down to the water.
When the shooting stopped, Cassandra started advancing instead of retreating. None of the attackers had tried to hide, so they were able to do a clean sweep in a couple of minutes. Cassandra started to target three people she spotted who were all hanging back behind the Jeeps near the bow, but one of them yelled, “All clear,” and waved his rifle over his head.
When the big man walked up to Cassandra and held his hand out to her and the others came in closer, all she could say was, “You people are good.”
We all felt the massive vibration in the ship that seemed to make it shudder under our feet. The propellors were still trying to turn, but the engines had overheated to the breaking point. Far below us there were fires raging unchecked in the engine room, and the explosions were just barely loud enough for us to hear. The ship was sliding sideways along the reef, and it didn’t feel like it was going to break free, but it was definitely going to do its best to sink. It was either going to be in one piece or several, and it was time for us to go.
The ship was leaning to the port side, and we went straight down the ropes instead of using our feet against the hull. Bus had shown some perfect timing by being under the ropes when we reached the railings. One by one we dropped into the Boston Whaler, and Bus pushed the throttle forward as the Chief came down last.
We were clear of the Mercy Mission ship when she had given up and broken in half. Between the explosions and the damage done when
she collided with the reef, it was more than the hull could take. When it broke apart, the two halves slid away from each other and went separately below the surface of the water. The boat people inside tried to toss as much food as they could out of the cargo door, but they waited too long. The sinking ship collapsed onto them, and the suction caused by the two halves of the ship pulled the rest under with them.
Jean was on the radio with us as soon as we were clear, and she described a bleak scene on the beach facing the ocean. She was crying because she had seen the people falling off of the ship and didn’t know if we were victims or winners. When she saw the Boston Whaler cruise up to the side of the big ship as it leaned over the smaller boat, she thought it would be crushed. Then she tried to count the number of people who slid down the ropes and just wasn’t sure of how many she saw.
There was no one left alive on the beach or in the boats. Jean said anyone who got left behind was caught by the hordes of infected dead that were everywhere. She said she saw several people try to hide inside the houseboat, but someone had left the door open when it all started, so people had died and then turned inside. Our only choice for the time being was to go back into the Mud Island shelter through the escape tunnel, but that was fine with us.
We made a quick stop where the de Havilland Beaver bobbed on the waves and the Chief jumped over to the pilot side float. He powered up the plan while Tom and Hampton pulled in the anchors, and then we followed the plane as the Chief brought it closer to shore. It didn’t take long for us to park it in shallower water and cover it with tarps. It would be safer hidden near the marshes until we could assess the situation back at the moat.
On the way back to the island, I saw Kathy and Colleen talking with Cassandra, and I stayed back to give them some space. I knew that Kathy was taking care of a chore that was important to our survival, and that was the inspection to verify Cassandra wasn’t hiding a bite. A time would come when we would take someone in and find that they had been bitten, and then we would have to deny them entry into our sanctuary, but I really hoped it wouldn’t be this time. She looked like she had been through so much already.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Epiloque
One of the really special things about owning a shelter like Mud Island is being able to show it off. Seeing the look on someone’s face when they see it the first time deserves a drum roll, but I have to be satisfied with just watching their eyes get big.
Petty Officer Cassandra Gibbs was no different, and even though Hampton and Colleen had seen a shelter that I wouldn’t get to see for a long time, they were still impressed by our little corner of heaven. Hampton couldn’t believe this was all practically in his back yard, and he said if he had built a shelter, he would have built it here, too.
We had landed the boat and easily pulled it into its hiding place since there were so many of us, then we slid down the tunnel to safety. Of course I had to be at the bottom to be able to see the expressions on the faces of the new arrivals. I almost missed it because Jean had me in a bear hug.
Colleen and Hampton were all smiles and big eyed, but Cassandra looked like she was going to come unglued. With her mouth hanging open as she turned in a circle, she very slowly said, “Oh, my God.”
Everyone was introduced to Jean, and the two new ladies both had to ask her questions about when she was due, and of course they had to congratulate the father-to-be. Kathy said something in a discreetly low voice to Cassandra, and she gave her a nod. The two of them headed off in the direction of the showers so they could put the personal inspection behind them.
Jean chose that moment to put her hand on her big stomach and go, “Uh, oh.”
Doctor Bus was quick to step in and start guiding Jean to our medical center. He had been expecting this to happen at any time and was just glad it wasn’t when we were out rescuing Cassandra.
“You might want to let Kathy know what’s going on, Chief. I need to take Ed with me, and Kathy wouldn’t want to miss this.”
“Can I come too?” asked Colleen.
“Of course,” said Bus. “Tom, why don’t you take Hampton up to meet Molly and see if he needs something to eat? The man could probably use a cold beer.”
“Beer? You have cold beer?”
We all went in different directions, but the Mud Island family had grown. We would have to find a way to make due with what little space we had, but we would manage. I had gone from being a loner to having the closest family a man could have.
The next few hours seemed like days, but it was such a blur it could have been minutes. I wasn’t really sure.
Kathy and Cassandra came back from the living quarters in a hurry and joined up with Colleen. They all helped Doctor Bus with Jean. I have to admit, he couldn’t have had better assistants, and even though Jean was starting to say some really creative things about the labor pains, it was quite a festive atmosphere. The more creative she got, the harder they all laughed.
Someone said something about having a baby shower combined with the delivery, and they all laughed even harder.
They were all having such a good time in the little medical bay that the men, including me, were all left hanging around outside in the hall.
Between creative outbursts and labor pains, Jean saw me standing just outside the door and gave me a thumbs up.
“I’ve got this, Eddy. You can go take care of the guys. Besides, there isn’t enough room in here.”
I started to object, but another labor pain hit, and she yelled something about it being safer outside the shelter.
We all decided to get out while we could and went upstairs and wait for the big event, I saw Molly sitting sat the shortwave radio. She had the headphones on, but her head was aimed down at her feet. I could tell she felt left out.
I told the guys to save me a seat at the table and went over to Molly.
“Hey, girl. They could use a hand down in the medical bay. I think it will be okay to leave the radio unmanned for a bit.”
“Really? Thanks, Uncle Eddy.”
The smile looked as big as anything I had ever seen on the Chief’s face. The headphones flew into the air as she dove out of her chair toward the kitchen. Halfway there she threw on the brakes, spun in a circle, and ran back over to where she had left me standing. I got a big hug, and then her black hair was practically flying out behind her as she ran past the kitchen table on her way to the lower levels. I noticed it was a little less curly, and she was growing a bit.
The guys were all having as much fun as the women down below, and when Molly blew past them at a dead run, they let out a cheer like she was winning a race.
Someone had gotten out the cold beer for Hampton, and one was waiting for me on the table. I don’t know where he got them from, but the Chief produced a box of cigars.
“Here you go, Ed. When the good word comes up from below, you have to pass these out. It’s bad luck to do it before then, so just have them ready.”
Everyone lifted their bottles and held them across the table to clink them together in a toast.
Down in the medical bay, the women all got excited when Molly showed up. They made room for her up by Jean’s head and gave her the main job of wiping Jean’s forehead with a cool washcloth.
“Time to start keeping the language clean,” said Kathy. “We don’t need to be teaching Molly anything new.”
Jean gave Kathy a grin while gritting her teeth and said, “Thanks a lot. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Then Jean proceeded to let out a string of words that rhymed with the more familiar terms.
We heard so much laughing coming from downstairs that everyone’s eyebrows went up.
“Must be a funny looking baby,” said Hampton.
It’s really hard to breathe when beer comes out your nose.
That was the day Josh was born. The Chief tried to hide the misty eyes when he was introduced to my son and told we had named Josh after him. I didn’t tease him this time. Besides, Jean would have
put me back in the doghouse if I had. I just let the big guy have a private moment to deal with it.
As I was passing out the cigars, I looked at the calendar hanging in the kitchen and saw that it was the sixth of July, so Josh arrived right on schedule. Molly had herself a little cousin to take care of, and he sure had enough aunts and uncles to spoil him.
I could tell the Chief couldn’t wait to start helping to make a man out of him, but first things first. The Chief had looked at the calendar, too, and he said it looked like we had about six months to plan for our next trip out of the shelter.
“Why six months?” I asked.
“It should be pretty cold by then,” he said. “As a matter of fact, it will be freezing up north. We can talk about that tomorrow, though. It’s time for you to be with your family.”
I said good night and went down to the bedroom. Jean and I still had the master bedroom, but we agreed there would be too much traffic through the room for a new baby. For about the one hundredth time I wondered why my uncle had put the master bedroom in such an odd place.
An ammunition box had been converted into crib for Josh, and Hampton had even managed to find four legs to fasten onto the bottom. Jean had fallen asleep facing Josh in his new crib, so I slipped into the bed and snuggled up from behind her.
Jean sighed when I put an arm over her, and I felt a deep satisfaction. We had taken one small step forward to save the human race by Josh being born, and I knew that the fight for survival had really begun.
From the beginning I had been told to never leave the shelter once the apocalypse had begun, but we had learned something quickly. That just wouldn’t work. We couldn’t just watch the world die around us and do nothing. I knew that more than ever as I listened to Jean’s soft breathing. I had been wrong to question our reasons for rescuing Cassandra. Whether it was one life or a thousand, every life was worth saving.
