by Bob Howard
Three quick pops, and the heads of the infected dead exploded right behind Jean. She screamed and fell in my direction while the head shots propelled the infected the other way.
I saw Kathy leaping over the bow, and when I looked over my left shoulder, the Otter was floating at the end of the dock, and the Chief was standing on the left pontoon with a rifle aimed toward the parking lot. There were three more pops as he shot three more of the infected as they emerged from the dark.
“No time for thinking about it, Ed,” he yelled. “You can do that later. Get the boat tied on and follow Kathy. She knows the way. I’ll see you at home.”
Kathy had gotten Jean off the ground and calmed down a bit, but like the Chief said. We could all think about it later. Close calls had happened, and they would continue to happen. I just didn’t want them to happen to Jean.
Kathy pulled a cable with a hook on the end of it from a winch on the trailer and hooked it to the Whaler. I backed off to take up the slack, and she started the motor on the winch. The boat slid easily onto the tracks. Jean had gotten herself together and had jumped in to help. She was strapping down the boat to the trailer before I could hit the ground.
I ran up to the cab of the truck while Jean jumped in from the passenger side. Kathy shut down the motor on the winch and sprinted to the door of her own truck.
When both engines started and the headlights came on, we saw what we had expected from the start. The infected were coming out of the woods in large numbers. With no predators in the area, there had been nothing to decrease their numbers except the river, and without people on the river they had not been drawn out onto the mudflats the way they had when we had first landed the plane at the dock.
The Chief stood on the pontoon and took some well aimed shots ahead of Kathy. Before they became too thick to drive over with the trucks or the trailers, we needed to get onto the open road.
There was no direct route over to Wando Farms Road, even though it was only a short distance away. There was a marshy inlet between the landing and the farm where we had found the Suburban. That meant a speedy drive down Chandler Road to Highway 17. That was about two miles, but it was mostly straight. Then we made a left onto Highway 17 and drove like maniacs back to Wando Farms Road. We covered the distance at speeds faster than anyone should tow a trailer, but our plan called for good timing.
I never thought I would ever see Wando Farms Road again, and I never thought I would be driving at breakneck speeds back to that barn, but with the sun coming up behind me, that’s exactly what I was doing.
I only got a chance to glance over at Jean because I was going so fast, but it was enough for her to say, “Don’t worry about me, Ed. I’m ok, and we have a job to do.”
While Kathy and I drove to the farm, the Chief stayed behind for a few more minutes shooting at the infected. He revved the engine on the Otter a couple of times and generally made as much noise as possible. Over on Wando Farms Road, the infected dead began to move in the direction of the Paradise Boat Landing. The tide was going back out, so it was leaving behind soft pluff mud that was like quicksand in places.
As the infected reached the ramp at the boat landing and began to slide into the river, the groaning seemed to reach a fever pitch. Some of the infected tried to reach the Chief by walking out onto the dock, but he had let the seaplane drift away from it just far enough to be safe but to keep them tempted.
“The more the merrier,” thought the Chief.
He kept up the firing until he guessed the others had made it to Highway 17. Then he jumped into the plane and drove it around the bend and back to the dock nearest to the farmhouse. He shoved a new clip into his M-16 and charged down the dock like a bull. He remembered they had left a stack of corpses on the dock when they were there before, but predators had removed the remains.
His timing was perfect, and he arrived at the barn just as Kathy pulled up. She was just about to unhitch the boat to open the gate on the back of the bed of the Silverado when he yelled not to bother.
We all knew the Chief was strong, but he wheeled the tiller out of the barn and lifted it into the back of the pick up truck by himself. He ran over to Kathy and gave her a big hug then ran for the trees. As he did, he yelled back that he would meet us at the rendezvous.
Kathy wheeled her truck around with me right behind her. A few of the infected had just begun to make it back from the distraction at the boat landing, but they didn’t show up on Wando Farms Road until we had already passed by.
******
I didn’t know exactly which way we were going to go. I was only sure it wouldn’t be through Georgetown. The Chief planned on doing a little reconnaissance over the area to see how Hampton had made out, but he wasn’t going to get close enough to take another bullet through the engine. They were lucky the damage wasn’t severe the last time. This time it could be enough to bring him down hard and fast.
When we reached the intersection of Wando Farms Rd. and Highway 17, Kathy made a left and headed in the same direction we had gone the last time, but instead of staying on Highway 17 to Georgetown she made a hard right onto Seewee Road and floored the gas again. Because this road put us closer to the coast, I was getting an idea of what she had in mind.
Jean spread out a map and said, “You’re going to be coming to Bulls Island Road in about five miles. After you make that turn, get ready to eat her dust again because it’s about three miles of fairly straight road with no intersections. If any infected are on the road, I expect she will run over them.”
Kathy hardly slowed down for the turn, and I thought she was going to roll the boat, but she got control and was off again. Jean was right that I would be eating dust because that cop could drive.
Jean said, “We may have one other problem.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Is it another boat landing?”
“Worse,” she said. “It’s a boat landing and a ferry landing. If the ferry was there when everything happened, there could be a lot of infected.”
“Well, it’s got to be better than trying to go through Georgetown. The pedestrian traffic north of there on Highway 17 is hell.”
The good news was the walkway to the ferry was a couple of hundred yards long. The bad news was the railing along the walkway was too high for the infected to fall over. Judging by the number of dead that were milling around on the walkway, someone else must have recently tried to escape by reaching the ferry. If they had escaped we would never know, but they left behind over a hundred groaning, angry, infected dead.
The walkway was just barely wide enough for a vehicle, but on the boat landing end there were big pillars that looked like they could stop a tank. The clear purpose of those pillars was to keep people from driving a vehicle down to the dock. A golf cart might get through, but not a car. Kathy swung her truck around the parking area and came up alongside our Ford.
When she rolled down her window, she said, “There’s no way we can shoot all of them, but let me drop off my boat first. After the Chief gets here, I’m going to try to block the walkway to give us enough time to strap the trailer to the bottom of the plane. Give me some cover.”
Jean and I went to work shooting the infected that were close to the boat landing but still on the walkway. We were making a big enough pile of them to keep them from reaching the landing, but there were so many that time was going to run out.
The seaplane approached from the North and made a smooth landing near the end of the long walkway to the ferry. The Chief immediately summed up the problem and brought the plane to within a couple of feet of the slip where the ferry was usually docked.
Jean and I stopped shooting as we watched the horde of infected begin to reverse their direction to reach the plane. The infected that were already nearest to him were stopped from falling into the water by the height of the railing, and their fellow dead began crowding against them from behind. It only took about ten minutes for all of them to be packed into the far end of the
walkway.
“That railing must be made for real dummies,” I said to Jean. “It’s holding against a lot of tourists.”
She laughed and said, “Let’s see how much time the Chief bought us.”
Kathy had already backed her boat down the ramp and used her winch to slide it into the water. She signaled for us to help her, and Jean climbed into the boat while I got it free of the cable. Jean started the engine and idled it down to where the seaplane was keeping the infected busy. By this time we were all working together so well that I think we all knew what the other people were doing.
Jean’s boat was about twice the size of the Boston Whaler, and it made a lot of noise. As soon as she had it on station next to the seaplane, the Chief eased away from her and lowered his engine noise. Now that the infected were being aggravated by the bigger boat, the seaplane was free to come to the dock.
I saw what Jean was doing, so I got back in the second truck. Kathy managed to dump the tiller out of her truck then drove over to the parking area and lined it up with the walkway. She left it idling there and ran to where I was backing my boat into the water. As soon as it was in far enough, Kathy was sliding it off of the trailer. I jumped on board and got the engine started, then moved it out of the way so the Chief could come toward the ramp.
He brought the plane to a stop facing the ramp with the pontoons on either side of the trailer. He feathered the propeller and jumped into the water to help Kathy. They strapped the trailer to the underside of the plane, and with the help of a bit of buoyancy, the Chief was able to raise it high enough to clear the pontoons. He wanted to carry the tiller back in the larger boat, but Jean was using it to distract the infected. So, he lifted the tiller into the cargo hold of the plane. It sank a bit lower, but he was still satisfied and appreciated the plane even more. If it produced too much drag when he tried to take off or land, it would rip the bottom off of the plane, but he felt like it was a good job, and the plane would handle the entire load.
Satisfied that the trailer was up high enough, the Chief climbed back in the plane and started the engine. He coasted away from the dock and headed for the deeper water. As he passed our boats we could see that big smile back on his face.
I coasted back up to the landing to pick up Kathy, but she was gone. I was immediately panicked because we had done such a good job keeping the horde of infected under control. Then I saw the big Silverado racing toward the end of the walkway with no one behind the wheel. It hit the pillars head on with an incredible crash, but it kept going for a few yards. It came to a stop completely blocking the walkway.
Kathy came strolling up to the boat ramp and said, “I don’t think we should eat the seagulls either. It’s my guess that it’s going to take them a while to stop moving, but the gulls are going to start hanging around this dock for a long time after that.”
She climbed into the boat and pushed off at the same time. “Eddy, give me a ride out there to Jean and let me hop over there with her. The girls are going to take that big boat for a test drive.”
“With pleasure,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
After pulling alongside the other boat, Kathy jumped over, and they were off. We went up the waterway that separates Bulls Bay from the mainland until we reached the town of McClellanville, then we found a deep enough channel to head for the ocean. It was smoother traveling along the coast in the channel, but the banks were too close on both sides, and I was going to worry about being shot at until we were home.
After we reached deeper water, we were only two hours from Mud Island, but the girls got there much faster than me. I could still hear the whooping and hollering as they began to leave me behind. I was happy for them because it felt good to be going faster even in the Boston Whaler.
As I came around the jetty at the southern tip of the island, the Chief already had the trailer and the tiller unloaded. He was busy covering them with tree branches to keep them hidden until we could come back out to build our boat garage.
The Chief gave me a wave and signaled for me to just keep going, so I throttled up and sped for the dock at the other end of Mud Island. As I pulled up to the dock, Jean tossed me a mooring line and Kathy grabbed a rail to guide me in. I thought for a moment about the first time I had docked in this same spot and was amazed that I considered it to be home so much more now than ever before.
CHAPTER 7
Guests
We could tell we only had a few weeks before the weather would begin to get cold, and the days outside would be limited due to the cold wind blowing off of the ocean. So, there would be no time to rest and recover. The best I could hope for was a long evening in the hot tub with Jean and then a good night of sleep.
It always seemed like I was the last one to get up in the mornings, but once again the smell of fresh coffee, bacon, and scrambled eggs pulled me from a deep sleep.
I had been dreaming about riding in the boat on the way back to Mud Island. That was the one thing that was fun on our trip. As the smell of food pulled me to a higher level of consciousness, the memories came back in a flash. There were people in control of the Charleston harbor who had no regard for the lives of others. They would shoot you just because they could.
There were people who had survived just because they were in the right place at the right time. The people living in the marina on the Stono River wouldn’t last a day when the other people, the shooters, finally decided to expand their territory, but would they be there when the others arrived? Probably not, because they were eating something they had eaten their entire lives. To them a blue crab was just a blue crab, no matter what it ate. I had no doubt that Jean was right. They would get sick and die from eating the crabs that had been eating the infected.
There were people who had turned to laying traps for travelers, and if not for good planning on our part, we would have been caught in that trap when we reached the bridge on Highway 41. What they would have done with us was anyone’s guess.
Then there was the military. We knew they were still out there, but we couldn’t turn to them for help. They were still fighting for control of their own infrastructure, and they wouldn’t be able to help us with ours until they were in one piece again. The big question about them would be whether they respected our right to continue as we were, or if they would be no different from the shooters in Charleston harbor. So, there was no trust for the military, and we would avoid them for as long as we could.
We had met some good people and some people who showed they couldn’t be trusted. My thoughts seemed to reach only a few miles down the road to Georgetown when I would wonder what the world was going to become. My hope for Hampton and his friends was that they would see the end coming in time to make it to the planes they had loaded and ready at the small airport. It was inevitable that their fall would come from within because they controlled their borders but not what was within their borders.
Then there were the infected dead. They outnumbered the living. That much was obvious, and it seemed they were still increasing their numbers. If they tended to be lingering in large groups around places like boat landings, it was probably because that’s where the living were still finding a way to escape. Just as we had succeeded in taking boats and trailers out from under the very noses of the infected, there were far more people who failed and joined the hordes that roamed around looking for fresh victims.
As I finally sat up from my half awake and half asleep reverie, I had one last thought. If this was life on the coast where water was a way to delay death if not totally escape it, what was it like in the heart of the country? What happened where people had gathered in malls where they knew there would be supplies behind chain gates. If there had been pockets of survivors, would they fall from within just as Georgetown probably had, or would they fall from attacks by other survivors who would want to take what they had?
Malls, hospitals, schools, fallout shelters, military bases, ships at sea, and even private homes. They had all been places where
people went to get away from this deadly infection, but none had the advantages of Mud Island.
Jean came into the bedroom and saw that I was already awake. This was one advantage of Mud Island that the other places certainly didn’t have. The world had ended, but I wound up with a girlfriend.
“Are you ready to join us for breakfast, sleepy head?” she asked.
“The food smells wonderful,” I said, “but I would pass on it if you stayed here with me.” I gave her my best sexy grin, which wasn’t saying much.
“That would be my first choice too, my dear, but we have important work to do. Come and get some breakfast, and maybe we can get some alone time this evening.” Jean gave me a little wink and headed for the kitchen.
Five minutes later I passed through the kitchen, and Kathy handed me a plate of food and a steaming hot coffee. She also gave me a little peck on the cheek that made me blush a bit.
“Hands off, Kathy,” said Jean from across the room. “He’s spoken for.”
“I just can’t help myself,” said Kathy. “He’s been such an animal out on the road.”
Kathy may have been kidding, but I was starting to feel like our group wasn’t just lucky. We were planning, we were improvising, and we were doing. I just hoped we weren’t going to plan or do anything in the near future.
“Hey, Chief,” I said. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with his own cup of coffee and plate of food. “Anything good to report this morning?”
“Good morning, Ed,” he said between bites. “We hit the jackpot yesterday, if that’s what you mean by good news.”
“Yesterday?” I asked. “I hit the jackpot last night, but how did we hit the jackpot yesterday?”
That earned me a chorus of boos, but I got an appreciative look from Jean.
