The Infected Dead (Book 1): Alive for Now

by Bob Howard

  “Rub it in,” said the Chief. “Did you hear about the boat Kathy picked at the boat landing?”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “It was well stocked,” said Kathy. “If you’re going to pick a boat to steal, pick one that’s loaded with things you need.”

  They were all looking at me with anticipation, and I felt like I was about to get an early Christmas.

  “Is anyone going to tell me, or do I have to negotiate for my share of the booty?”

  This time I got the chorus of boos and a poke on the arm from Jean.

  “Do you do that on purpose, or does it just come naturally to you, and if you act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m going to cut you off,” said Jean.

  This time I just grinned because I was busted.

  “Okay, what’s in the boat that I’m going to get excited about?” I asked.

  The Chief reached down to the floor and lifted a large box up onto the counter. I took a peak inside and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the second best collection of video games I had ever seen. The best collection was the one I left sitting on the counter in the game store. There were also several sets of game controllers and two different consoles.

  Kathy said, “Ed, you think it’s a given that you’ll beat everyone here at those games, but don’t count on it.”

  I was so stunned I almost forgot my food, but Jean reminded me to eat before I could play.

  The Chief said, “How long do you think it’s going to take us to finish the boat garage, Ed?”

  “With no interruptions from unwanted guests, I think we can do it in one to two days. All we need to do is dig out the area around the hatch, give it some extra support for the material we use to hide it. The tiller should tear up the beach pretty fast, so getting the boat into the hideaway isn’t going to be a big project,” I said.

  “There’s one modification to the plan I’d like to suggest,” said Kathy. “If someone finds the boat, we don’t want them to find the escape hatch, too. We need to make it look like the only thing under there is the boat.”

  “That’s no problem,” said the Chief. “Has anyone given any thought to the ditch itself? If I was walking down the beach, and I came across a ditch like we plan to dig, I would naturally follow it right up to the trees.”

  “I’ve got an idea for that, Chief. Which would pull over a tree the quickest, a boat, a winch, or the plane?” I asked.

  “Depends on the tree,” he said. “If it’s a dead tree, I imagine any of them could.”

  “Well, I’m thinking we could pull a dead tree down over the end of the ditch after we have the boat inside. As long as it isn’t a tree we can’t move again but big enough to look like it wasn’t put there, it should disguise the hideaway nicely.”

  ******

  We finished our breakfast and went back to the dock by the houseboat. We had decided to restock it with a smaller supply of food than before. That way, unwelcome tenants wouldn’t stay as long before having to leave. Kathy and Jean took over with that project while the Chief and I loaded the bigger, more powerful boat with our construction supplies.

  Thirty minutes later we were starting the tiller and cutting a ditch from the water to the tree line where the hatch was hidden. The Chief took over with the tiller while I went up and began cutting away the turf in large sections. The idea was to put them back in a way that they wouldn’t be too heavy, but they would look like natural turf. It was a bit sandy, but Mud Island was appropriately named. It had enough wet ground for our purposes.

  By the time I had cut away the brush and the turf, the Chief had a fair ditch from the water to the hatch. We weren’t worried about water filling the ditch, because it was like any beach. The water never stayed long.

  The Chief and I began using the tiller to excavate a section of the tree line that was deep enough to hold the trailer and the Boston Whaler. It was back breaking work, but we had the hole dug in only two hours.

  Our next job was to hide it all, and Uncle Titus had left enough materials in the storage area of the shelter for that. We hauled a load of two by fours to our newly dug hole and built a roof into the tree line. It was so solid that we were amazed how well the turf fit back into place over it. We didn’t even need to drop any trees over the top of it to hide it from the top. Someone could walk right over the top of it without even knowing it was there. It would look just like a place in the tree line that had a sharp drop down to the beach because it was a bit higher.

  “We’re ahead of schedule,” said the Chief, “probably because we haven’t had any unwanted guests.”

  We both looked across the inlet toward the trawler and the strip of beach by the trees. While we worked, there had been a steady stream of infected dead trying to reach us. One by one they had walked into the water and disappeared into the swift current.

  “I know,” I said. “This has been a lot like anchoring next to that boat landing and baiting them into the water. We may be making these woods just a bit safer than before, and at this pace we’ll be done tonight.”

  We crafted a wooden lid and then cut out another section of turf of the same size. We carried it together back down to the hatch that led to the emergency escape and placed it over the hole. It would be hidden unless someone chose to dig in that exact spot. If someone found the boat, there would be no reason for them to expect an escape hatch to be located underneath it in the same place. Even if they found the hatch, there would be no chance at all that they would be able to enter the shelter through it.

  Our last chore was to get the boat onto the trailer and then tow it up to the hideaway, and luck was on our side. The tide was out when we slid the trailer into the water, but it began to come in as we moved the boat into place above it. With a little help from the water at just the right time, the boat and trailer glided with the tide into our ditch and right into its new garage.

  We lowered the turf of the tree line that was to act as the door to the hideaway and were pleasantly surprised at how well it was hidden, and the best part was the way the tide was smoothing out the sand on the beach.

  “Give it a day, and it will be nothing more than a big groove in the sand. In a week it will be gone,” said the Chief.

  Living proof of the power of the tide was how much sand had built up on the trawler that had wrecked on the other side of the jetty. It would take years for it to be buried, but they could already see the changes to the terrain around it.

  We had seen the infected on that part of the beach all day, but the number had begun to dwindle. As we watched the area south of the wrecked trawler, we saw one stumbling down the beach in our direction. It looked like it was already snapping its jaws open and shut in anticipation.

  “That’s what I call an optimist,” I said.

  The Chief sort of laughed, and we watched in morbid fascination one more time as the infected dead reached the other side of the inlet, walked into the water, and then just disappeared.

  “Your uncle was a genius, Ed.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Chief.”

  The Chief opened our hideaway and dragged the tiller inside. He closed it just as easily as a garage door, and we took a last look at our handiwork. We didn’t know when we would need the boat again, but it would be there for us when the time came. If it was left up to me, we would never need it again.

  We waded out and boarded the new boat and the Chief drove us back to the northern dock where we found the ladies had done a reasonably good job of making it look like the houseboat had been abandoned for a long time. We told them we had also finished, which produced excited cheers from them both.

  Kathy said, “We haven’t celebrated for so long, that I’m going to cook a big fancy meal. Afterward we’re going to get into that box of video games and find out who the gamers are.”

  “Women rule,” said Jean as she gave Kathy a high five.

  “Oh it’s going to be like that,” said the Chief. “I’ll take my man Eddy here, and
we’ll show the women a thing or two about why women should stick to cooking.”

  The Chief wasn’t nearly a chauvinist, so I knew he was putting on an act to get the friendly rivalry started. With the boat and plane disabled and the houseboat looking abandoned, we carried our tools and supplies back through the woods to the shelter. There was still enough light for us to see through the security cameras, so we did a sweep of the island before settling in for the night.

  The fancy meal was a large rack of prime rib that was stored in the big walk-in freezer. Canned vegetables were plentiful, so we added corn, peas, and potatoes. Canned peaches and ice cream were for dessert, and since it was a celebration, the beer was not rationed.

  By the time we were all done eating, we were holding our stomachs and groaning like we belonged outside. When I made the observation that we sounded like a bunch of infected, I wasn’t met with the usual boos because everyone was a little drunk and actually thought it was a little funny.

  We set up the video game console and harassed each other mercilessly as we tried to establish who was the king or queen of the video world. We even played a zombie apocalypse game and ran around shooting zombies. Jean would start screaming to look out every time I let them get too close, like she thought I was going to get bitten for real. She probably would have cried if I had lost the game to the zombies.

  Between turns, the Chief drifted over to the short wave radio and slowly scanned the channels. We still had our rule to listen but never broadcast because we didn’t want anyone to know our location. He picked up a few signals, but they were all too weak to understand.

  We enjoyed each other’s company well into the night and finally decided to get some sleep. As a matter of fact there was a general agreement that we would sleep in the next day. It had been a long time since we had taken that luxury. We had finished the work that had taken us back out onto the road for a second time, and as we went to bed, we all vowed that there would be no need for us to leave again. The world was our oyster, and we were safe as long as we stayed on the island.

  ******

  Through our cameras hidden outside, we watched as November went by and December became one day after the next of cold, gray skies and a choppy ocean. We had endless days of reading, movies, video games, and chores, but as a group we didn’t neglect the exercise room.

  The Chief was an avid weight lifter, Kathy was an all around exercise nut, and Jean loved to run. Of course that’s what I loved to do when I was asked. It was probably painfully obvious to everyone that I wasn’t high on any kind of exercise, but as the days passed, I really began to look forward to my sessions on the treadmill. Jean watched to see when I was starting to tire out, and she would slow to a stop with me. It wasn’t long before she was really ready to stop as I built up a stamina I didn’t know I had. The fact was, I was feeling better than I had in my whole life.

  When we were pretty sure it was Christmas, Kathy and Jean thawed out a turkey and we had a real feast. The Chief found some DVD’s with football games on them, and we watched them as if they were live broadcasts. When Jean said it would be nice if we could bundle up and go out onto the beach and build a fire, it didn’t take long to put the idea aside as the wrong thing to do. She admitted she had felt so safe and comfortable that she had forgotten just how dangerous our own island could be.

  As we settled in for our nightly video games and movies, the Chief started casually turning the dial through the frequencies on the short wave set. One signal came through so clear that it sounded like it was in the same room with us. The man broadcasting was asking if there were any other survivors out there, and he even said he didn’t blame people for not speaking up because there were so many criminals who would be glad to locate a survivor and take what they had.

  He said his name was Tom Bergman, and he had managed to stay alive with his little girl, Molly. She was nine years old, and they had lost everyone else, but they still had each other. He said he wouldn’t disclose their location, but for the first time in a long time they felt safe, at least from the sick people if not from the criminals. He said they had some supplies that they were rationing, but he hoped to at least make them last a couple more weeks.

  Tom Bergman said he would be willing to talk with anyone who wanted to work together to stay alive, but that he would do anything to protect his daughter, so he would only disclose his location after he was sure it was to the right people. He signed off for the night, but he said he would broadcast again tomorrow night at the same time.

  When the radio went silent, Kathy said, “I think we should find out where they are and bring them here.”

  The Chief had always shown a soft heart, but even he was skeptical.

  “Kathy, how do you know he has a nine year old daughter, and how do you know it isn’t just a trap to flush out other survivors?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Chief. He just sounds real,” she said.

  “I have to agree with the Chief,” I said. “We’re about to have temperatures near zero out there, and we don’t even know where he is. We can’t advertise our location, and he isn’t going to tell us his.”

  “So we’re just going to leave them out there?” said Jean. “Have we become that immune to death that we can turn our backs on them?”

  I felt like hiding my head under something. Jean and I hadn’t so much as exchanged cross words with each other since the day we met. I looked at the Chief, and I could see he felt the same way.

  The Chief said, “In defense of the men, this conversation might have gone better if it has started with the question of finding them rather than the outright decision to do it.”

  “What’s that mean, Chief? I need to ask if we can help them?” asked Kathy.

  “No,” he answered. “You need to ask if anyone has a clue of how we can help them. This isn’t a ‘should we or should we not’ problem. It’s a ‘can we or can’t we’ problem. Give me an idea of how we can find them without advertising their location to everyone else who’s listening. As soon as they say where they are, every nut job left alive will go after them.”

  It was Kathy’s and Jean’s turn to hide their heads. The Chief had laid out the problem pretty well. Everything they said on the radio was heard by us and anyone else who was listening. No matter what was said to try to arrange a rendezvous, there was no way to do it privately.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jean. “I shouldn’t have accused you guys of being insensitive or not caring enough to help. You two are probably the finest men I’ve ever known.”

  The far away look on Jean’s face as she apologized told me she was thinking of the past and maybe of someone she had known. We didn’t talk much about our pasts. As a matter of fact, all four of us had been elusive about life before the infection. I wasn’t even sure of ages, birthdays, or where they were from. It made me see that we were living for the present, not the past. We wanted to stay alive, and we could worry about the before times when it was possible to do that and stay alive at the same time. All I really knew for sure was that we cared about each other.

  Kathy asked, “Would anybody object to bringing them in if there was a way?”

  “Do you have a plan?” asked Jean.

  “No, I wish I did. I just wanted to be sure that we’re all in agreement that there may eventually be someone else who we can rescue. The Chief was right about the real question, but we also need to be clear that we don’t intend to turn our backs on people.”

  “Not everyone is going to be like that couple back at the farm where we had to leave the plane,” I said. “We gave them a chance, and they blew it. They would have left us standing there on the road if they could, and they’d also probably be dead by now if they had.”

  The Chief had been quiet since defending the men, but when he spoke, it was clearly what we were all thinking. There was one thing that we had ignored because it was unthinkable.

  “How many children have we seen since this started?” he asked. “The news broadcast
s in the last days, our travels along the coast, and Georgetown. We never saw any kids surviving. If we could bring in even one, it would make us feel less guilty about what we have here. It’s in our nature to share, but it’s in our genes to share with children.”

  We were all sobered by the thought, and it was getting late, so we drifted off to bed. No one felt like celebrating after the discussion about children. So much had been lost. So many people had died, and so many more would die.

  The next morning began with the usual breakfast as a group, but the conversation was subdued. It seemed to be limited to the food tasting good, what day it was, and what the weather was like outside. What we were really thinking about was a little nine year old girl named Molly, and how her dad had kept her alive. We didn’t know if it was true or a trap, but we could picture Molly just as if she was standing in front of us.

  The day passed with everyone doing their own thing. The Chief was in the armory inspecting and cleaning weapons. Jean was doing an inventory of our supplies, and Kathy was trying her hand at baking bread. I tried playing video games, but for the first time I could remember, I was bored.

  I switched to the surveillance cameras and checked the view from the southern tip of the island. We probably had some heavy winds through the night because there was a lot of debris on the beach from the trees. The camera angle was just right for me to inspect the cover over our hidden boat, and I was pleased to see that the ditch we had dug gave the appearance of a run off from the island. There was a trickle of water standing in it from the high tide, so it looked like it belonged there.

  I made a mental note to talk with the Chief about dragging some of the bigger trees out onto the beach in a random pattern. They could be a good way to keep people from being too interested in Mud Island, and they would slow down the movement of the infected if they started washing ashore again. Their numbers had steadily decreased, but there was no way to tell when they might start showing up again. This would be an ideal time to get it done.