“So do we just ignore them?” Brenda asked.
“No,” Sam said, “Well, not entirely. You two and Tony stay here, but maybe go and stand in the laundry room or in the passage. Make yourselves less obvious. If they somehow get through the gate, do what you did at Fish Tails. Kill enough of them to create a wall. Then fall back to the docks and get back to the boats. Andrea and I are going to dink over to the other side and help Andy and Tara. Stay in touch on the radio.”
“Roger that, Skip,” Tony said.
Sam and I ran back to his boat and lowered the dinghy into the water. He had an eleven-foot Zodiac inflatable with a fifteen horse Yamaha on it. He fired up the outboard as I unclipped the boat from the davit hoists.
It wasn’t a far ride. We just motored across the main fairway and between G and H docks until we found an empty slip near the foot of H. Sam pulled in and I tied us to a cleat and we got out.
“Why not go straight over to J?” I asked as we hustled up the gangplank ramp to the top of the eastern breakwater.
“Too close,” Sam explained, “If the G’s on our side somehow break through the far J dock gate, they could overrun the dock before we could get back to the dink. This way, there’s a gate on the western side and we’ll lock the one on our side. If we have to pull back, we can close the H dock gate behind us and give us time to exfiltrate.”
“You mean retreat?” I asked as we ran toward the south gate.
Sam grinned over at me, “SEAL’s never retreat. I didn’t think marines did, either.”
“Nope,” I grinned back, “Maybe tactically withdraw…”
Andy and Tara turned toward us as we ran up. Even in the deeper darkness in this gloomy corner I could see things were already getting bad. The zombies were pressed tightly against the fence and gate, their diseased and reeking flesh pressing between the mesh.
It was so bad in places that a blackish ooze was beginning to run down the gate in rivulets.
“The hinges are starting to go, I think,” Andy said, pointing.
“No,” Sam reassured us, “that gate opens out.”
“There’s so many of them,” Tara said, “It looks like they’re going down First Street and Thirteenth Avenue.”
I snorted, “Thirteenth…”
“What do we do, Sam?” Andy asked, “There’s just too many to kill. I’m afraid that if we start shooting the ones up close, it’ll eventually make a ramp those bastards can get over. Sooner or later, they’ll start spilling over the top of the gate.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, “And they’re on the front side too. Same deal.”
“What are they all doing here all of a sudden?” Tara asked, “Have you guys ever had this? We never did over at Waterside. Haven’t seen this since the beginning…”
“No,” Sam said, “Not like this. A few here and there, nothing big.”
“We’ve got to do something,” I pointed out, “Because sooner or later, they’ll break in.”
“How’d you get over here?” Andy suddenly asked.
“The dink,” Sam said.
“Then can’t we go up the creek here,” Andy said, pointing to the water, “Land behind this… uhm… horde?”
“Definitely,” Sam said.
“And draw them away?” Andy continued, “Draw them from the gate here and maybe do the same over on Third Street?”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” I added.
“Yeah,” Tara said with what I think was a proud girlfriend smile.
“Except the ammo,” Sam stated, “Even with what we brought… I don’t know if we can kill them all. And the noise is likely to bring more.”
“Better than this,” Tara exclaimed.
“Okay, who’s gonna stay here and watch the gate?” Sam asked.
“The girls,” Andy said, “I think you and I can run faster, if it comes to that. What do you think mom… Tara?”
I looked at Tara and we frowned. Tara eyed Andy and Sam, “So the big strong men play the hero while the little ladies stay safe?”
Andy frowned at her. Tara smiled.
“Does it matter who can run faster?” I asked, ‘Against those things?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, “maybe not.”
“Let’s flip a coin then,” Andy suggested.
“Fuck it,” I said, “You boys go have your fun and Tara and I will keep an eye on things.”
Andy looked at Tara and then at me.
“Go on, hero,” Tara said sarcastically, although I could tell she was half kidding.
“Andrea and I left the dink on H dock,” Sam said, “In slip twenty-eight, I think. Like the fourth from the ramp. If things get hairy… if those cocksuckers break the gate down, try and make a wall of them and then haul ass. Close the H dock gate behind you and get back to the boat and help the rest of the team.”
“What’re you guys taking?” I asked.
“One of the pontoons,” Sam replied.
I stepped up and wrapped my arms around him and kissed him hard, “You be careful, you chauvinist prick… you promised me some good sex tonight.”
Sam grinned at me, “What better motivation could I have?”
I peeked at Tara who was hugging Andy tight. I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear this, but she said, “And you be careful too, asshole. I want to find out just what kind of great sex we can have together.”
I tried not to laugh. Not at what she said but at Andy’s reaction. It was hard to see expressions in the dark, despite the moon, but I could almost sense his embarrassment.
“We’re just going to circle behind them and make some noise,” Andy said, “Draw their attention and relieve the pressure, hopefully. Then we haul ass. No heroics.”
“Uh-huh,” Tara said.
Sam chuckled and handed me the hand held VHF, “We’ll stay in touch.”
And they were gone. They took off down the sidewalk and Tara and I were alone… well, not really. The sounds of a horde of zombies moaning, snarling and slapping the fence were more than a little uncomfortable.
“Has he always been this way?” Tara asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“Running into danger without a care in the world?” She explained.
“Ever since I’ve known him,” I said with a sigh. Then I paused, “Wait, are you talking about Sam or Andy?”
Tara grinned, “I guess both.”
I laughed, “Sam’s a SEAL. He’s a trained sub driver and a pilot too. A real bona fide bad ass. So yeah, he’s not one to let fear stop him, if he even feels it.”
“And Andy?”
I sighed, “Six or seven months ago… Andy was a junior in high school. He was just about a straight A student. He’s very smart. He also ran track and wanted to play football. He’s always been lean, not quite skinny, but lean. And yet, even now, I can see he’s really filling out. Partly from the exercise routines he does with us and partly just growing up.”
“I can see that,” Tara said, “I can see the remnants of the skinny kid but he’s also got a solid man’s body now… but what about his willingness to rush in?”
“Well, as I was saying,” I continued, “six or seven months ago… I couldn’t say. He was never a scaredy cat, that’s for sure. Never really got bullied and if he did, he took care of it. But these past six months… I’ve seen a lot of change in him. He’s far more confident and when something needs to get done, he just does it. I think Sam and Tony have a lot to do with that.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Tara said thoughtfully, “Not to mention his Marine Corps mom.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, but I’m a Viper pilot. Not your typical infantry jarhead. Not that you don’t have to be a bad ass devil dog even then, but Jesus… compared to the two squids…”
Tara sighed.
“Does it bother you?” I asked her.
The ghouls seemed to calm down. It was as if they were really interested in our conversation. Of course, it was probably just because there were so many press
ing against the front ranks that they couldn’t move as easily.
“A little, I guess,” Tara finally said, “And yet, it’s awfully sexy…”
I smiled, “You’re in love with him already, aren’t you?”
Tara looked at me and smiled too, “Yes. I know that’s stupid, right? I didn’t even know him when I woke up this morning.”
“That’s how it happens sometimes,” I said, “And the intensity of our time together probably has something to do with it. It’s not stupid. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s a lucky guy.”
“Thanks,” Tara said.
“I know it’s hard to watch your man run off into danger,” I continued, “But that’s the price of loving a hero. And in this fucked up world… men like Tony and Sam and my son have a lot of opportunity to race into the fire. Kind of ironic, right? We love them because we know they’re the kind of men who will do what’s right, fight for us and others and step up when others are afraid to act. Yet this means the odds of them getting hurt or worse go way, way up…”
“I think you nailed it,” Tara said with a sigh. She then smiled and hefted her rifle, “Okay, enough bullshit… can’t we… do something? I’m sick of standing here listening to these meat bags. Time for us to be heroes, too.”
“I hear you,” I said, “The problem is that we can’t really shoot through this fence. The gaps are too small. Our bullets would go through, but then we’d be weakening it that much more.”
“And it just makes it worse,” Tara added, “A bunch of dead G’s lying in front of the gate means another wave of them can get on top, etc., etc.…”
“Yeah…” I said, rubbing my chin. I looked at the small restroom shack and then at the chain link fence that connected to one side of it.
Just to the north, a separate small platform was fenced off. Sam told me that every now and then, a barge would pull up and connect. It delivered fuel oil or natural gas or whatever went into the series of huge tanks on the other side of thirteenth Ave. On the eastern side of that, along the salt creek waterway, was the marina’s pump out station. There were actually zombies on that platform too, because there was a small sidewalk that went around the shower shack and gave access to the pump out station.
“What’re you looking at?” Tara asked.
Before I could answer, the radio crackled to life, “Andrea, Sam, anybody out there? What’s going on?”
It was Brenda. I keyed my walkie, “Tara and I are at the south gate. Andy and Sam took a pontoon to circle around to the rear of these damned zombies and try to pull them away. How are you guys?”
“The gate’s still holding,” Brenda said, “Tony and Carl are taking shots from the side of the bridge, trying to take some zombies down further away to relieve the pressure. How are you guys?”
I looked at Tara and grinned, “We’re about to do the same thing. Hopefully the boys will help. Keep us posted and be careful, guys.”
“Help is on the way,” I heard Sam say.
Tara and I turned at the sound of an outboard and watched one of the pontoon boats plow by us at about twenty knots.
“Come on,” I said, pointing to the chain link fence, “Let’s climb this and get on top of the head roof. We’ll have a better view up there and can start shooting zombies in the rear, just like the others are doing.”
Tara’s eyes went wide, “Better to kill the ones in back… yeah, let’s do it! Wait… is that barbed wire on top?”
I looked more carefully. Sure enough, there were three strands of barbed wire stretched over the top of the chain link fence. Weird, there was really nothing valuable inside. I shrugged and fished around in my backpack, “No problem, I’ve got a set of dykes.”
“How are a couple of lesbians going to help us?” Tara said with a grin as she slung her rifle over her shoulder.
“High-larious,” I commented and began to climb.
The fence itself wasn’t that high, maybe a little more than six feet. I went up a couple of feet and clipped the barbed wire near the side of the head shack. It was old and rusty but still took a good squeeze. I cut all three and carefully pushed them over onto the other side.
I climbed back down and dropped the cutters into my pack, “Ready?”
Tara nodded. I went up first, carefully balancing on the upper piping of the fence. The flat roof of the accommodation building was only two feet higher, so it was pretty easy to get up there. Tara followed quickly and I gave her a hand up.
“It’s better,” She said, “But those trees on the right are blocking us.”
“Good enough,” I said, “Fuck me…”
They seemed to cover the landscape. Zombies were everywhere. Aside from the group pushing against those pushing the gate, there were more jostling each other for at least fifty or so yards down First Street and Thirteenth Avenue. They were also milling around on the section of grass between the roads and the fence that contained the storage tanks across the street.
“Jesus, Andrea,” Tara breathed, “There must be thousands of them! There’s no way we’ll be able to kill them all.”
“Maybe not,” I said, “But we can sure make a dent.”
We began to fire. Not at the ones directly below, but at the ghouls sort of in the middle distance. The ones in the street beyond the walkway to the gate. They weren’t far away, so head shots were pretty easy.
“One shot, one kill,” I told Tara.
She shouldered her AR-15 and began carefully firing. She was a pretty good shot, but she had a kill rate of maybe three out of five. It would have to do.
After about ten minutes, we’d created something of an organic rampart. There was a semi-circular pile of monster bodies about five feet high that was keeping the rest of the group from pushing against their friends at the gate.
“Well, it’s a start,” I said, “How’s your ammo?”
“I’m out,” Tara said, “I wish I’d brought another clip.”
“Here,” I shrugged off the pack, “There’s a shitload of 5.56 rounds in there. Swap that banana for one of the full magazines in here. When you’ve run through that mag, take a break and start refilling the empty magazines. I’ve got a mag and a half left on me. When I’m out, we’ll swap and I’ll refill while you shoot.”
I laid flat on the top of the roof and began sending rounds into the tops of skulls right below us. Now that we had a makeshift wall, I could afford to start killing the G’s at the gate.
“Out!” Tara announced.
“Red,” I said, “when you’re in a firefight, you say ‘red’ for empty and ‘green’ for full.”
“Okay, red then,” Tara said, sitting on the roof and starting to push bullets into the long curving banana magazine. I heard her drop a few.
“Take it easy,” I said, “No need to rush.”
I’d killed about two-thirds of the stinky fucks below me, including the ones that had tried going around the shower building on the water side. The ones that were left had stopped beating on the fence and were actually looking up at me, with almost comical looks on their faces. As if they couldn’t figure out what to do with us being so high above them.
Comical except for the grisly nature of these things. Even in the moonlight, you could see the decay and the damage. Some zombies had turned at the beginning and many more had been infected by those that had turned.
The newer zombies, those that had been bitten, had horrific wounds. Anything from bite marks to huge sections of flesh that had been torn away. Many lacked noses, ears and eyes… if you looked at them long enough, you could feel your resolve drain away.
That was something you didn’t think about, and one of the many things that made them dangerous. You were fighting an enemy that had no emotions. They couldn’t be scared, depressed or demoralized.
Yet on the other hand… you could be. Their moaning, the ever-present stench of rotting meat and the look of the damned things could turn your blood to ice water. The psychological effect of coming face to face with the liv
ing dead should not be taken lightly.
“What’s that sound?” Tara asked.
“What sound?”
“Listen,” She said.
I quit firing and listened. It was distant, but it kind of sounded like somebody was running a gigantic blender several blocks away.
“No fucking clue,” I said.
‘It’s getting louder…” Tara said her head cocked.
“Don’t know, but keep loading.”
She was right, though. It was getting louder. It was an engine that was clear now. A big one that whirred.
“No fucking way!” I said and pointed up Thirteenth.
“Jesus Christ!” Tara exclaimed, “Are they out of their minds?”
At the corner of Second Street and Thirteenth Avenue, a massive forklift came into view and turned toward us, its huge engine roaring. It had forks that must’ve been thirty feet long.
“It’s the forklift from the high and dry!” Tara exclaimed.
“What’re they doing with it?” I asked. Didn’t really expect an answer… and didn’t need one.
The forks were lowered to about three feet off the ground and the lift was barreling down the street. It didn’t go fast, maybe twenty-five miles an hour, but it would be fast enough.
Then I noticed something else. I don’t know how I missed it, I guess I was just so surprised. The forks weren’t empty. At the end of the huge steel tines, as if they’d speared it, was a partially rusted dumpster.
“Holy shit!” Tara yelled in glee.
The forklift, which must have weighed thirty tons, and its steel dumpster battering ram, slammed into the tightly packed group of zombies with devastating effect.
It was like plowing the snow. A swath of deaders fifteen feet across was plowed toward the end of the street, pushing them against each other and the ones at the end into the water. The lift was slowing as the hundreds of bodies compacted.
Yet it wasn’t just a push. Zombie bodies exploded into clouds of gore and tissue that sprayed outward and upward like a giant water balloon.
World of Corpses (Book 1): World of Corpses Page 18
