“Fuck this!” Andy said, “Fire!”
Like old time sailing ships, we treated Mark and his men to a full broadside. At least what broadside we could make up.
Andy’s big rifle began to boom out and I started firing my own three round bursts.
One of the men in the bow of Mark’s boat went flying sideways and into the bay, his weapon and a fountain of blood trailing him.
“Get down!” Andy hollered.
I could see that Tony’s boat was now on the other side of Mark’s and he’d killed his engine, because we began to move past him rapidly.
I ducked down and heard more weapons fire and a lot of shouting. Several bullets struck the outer hull of Sam’s boat but nothing penetrated inside, thank God.
Andy ran past me and up the ladder way to the cockpit and I came up with him. Mark had the sense to try and break away. As we came on deck, I saw that the asshole had gunned his engine and was pulling ahead fast. The other boat, however, was doing the same thing and coming up on us quickly.
I set the selector to full auto on my rifle and squeezed the trigger as I brought the barrel around to aim at Mark and his men.
The magazine emptied pretty fast and I wasn’t sure if I’d hit anyone. Only Mark and one other man were visible as they sped away, leaping over waves and throwing up spray.
“Forget him,” Andy advised, “Reload and focus on that other boat!”
He was firing regularly, sending the big .308 rounds into the fiberglass hull of the marauder’s second boat. Even from over a hundred feet away, I could see chunks of fiberglass go flying when Andy’s shots went home.
I could also see, or couldn’t see maybe more like, anyone on board. They’d probably ducked down below the gunwales.
I could see Brenda on the other sailboat, firing her rifle repeatedly as well. Yet I didn’t see Tony.
“Where’s Tony?” I shouted over the din.
Andy only shrugged as he took aim. There was a pause and he squeezed his trigger. The result was incredible.
One minute, there was a center console fishing boat speeding between our two sailboats…. and the next, the stern blossomed into an orange ball. The boat pitched forward and what was left turned on its side and rolled over. I didn’t see any of the men.
“Jesus Christ!” I shouted, “Nice shot!”
“Where’s Mark?” Andy asked.
I looked around and saw the first boat far into the distance. It was arcing away and back toward Saint Pete. I pointed.
Andy sighed and throttled back until Sorcerer came to a stop. Well, almost. The big jib was still pulling us along at a few knots. Andy disengaged the autopilot and steered toward the other sailboat.
“You guys okay?” I asked as we got close.
Brenda shook her head and pointed down, “Tony’s hit.”
“Son of a bitch…” Andy said, “Brenda, are you still on course with your autopilot on?”
“Yeah,” She replied as we edged closer.
“Then open up the throttle,” Andy said, “We need to get back up to speed.”
She did so and Andy increased our speed as well. After a minute or so, we were again at about nine knots and he continued to edge closer.
“How bad?” Andy asked. He got to within a few feet and set our autopilot as well.
The two boats were now running south side by side.
“Shoulder,” Tony growled. He was out of sight, probably lying on the cockpit deck.
“Dammit,” Andy said, “Brenda, here’s what I want you to do. Unclip the Halyard from the sail, then release the brake and pull the halyard down until it’s touching the side deck. Can you do that?”
Brenda looked a bit frazzled over there. I couldn’t blame her, either. It wasn’t like there were any hospitals around anymore… at least none that were open. All the hospitals were like giant zombie nests.
“I… Brenda said hesitantly.
“Come on, Brenda,” Andy urged, “It’s easy. You see the brakes where the halyards are attached, right on top of the cabin there.”
Brenda looked where Andy was pointing. On top of the cabin, on the port side, was a large bit of unique sailboat equipment. It was a series of three levers above three thick lines that went through holes beneath them. The levers were used to clamp down on the halyards and would also release them so they could slide easily while you were setting or striking a sail.
‘Okay,” Brenda said, “which one?”
“The light brown rope is the main halyard,” Andy said, “Release the brake and then go to the mast.”
Brenda had a little trouble pulling the lever up, but she finally got it. She then moved carefully forward to stand next to the boat’s towering mast.
“Okay,” Andy coached as he moved forward so that he was right across from her, “Now, the halyard is clipped to the head of the sail with a simple shackle. You should be able to simply turn the pin a half turn and slide it free. You might have to pull on the line a little to slacken it.”
It took her a few moments, but she got the line free and looked to him expectantly. It was maddening. Andy had told her what to do, but now he had to walk her through each step, which was taking forever… or seemed to… while Tony was bleeding to death. I didn’t know what Andy had in mind, but I wanted it to happen fast at least.
“Pull the line until the shackle touches the deck… good,” Andy said, “Now swing it over to me.”
Brenda looked baffled but she threw the shackle toward Andy who caught it. I think I realized what he was going to do. Brenda went back and pushed the brake lever back down again.
“Run below,” Andy ordered, “There’s an emergency medical kit on one of the saloon shelves. It’s big and white—“
“I know it,” I said excitedly, “I’ve seen it.”
I dashed down the stairs and found the big white box. It seemed larger than a first aid kit and I hoped had more than the mostly useless shit that store bought first aid packs had in them.
I went back up on deck and handed it to Andy. He slid his hand into the carrying slot, although it only went up to the break of his thumb, “Keep an eye on things here and try to raise Sam on the radio.”
Then he just swung over like a fucking pirate! I know it was only a couple of feet that separated our two boats, but it was pretty awesome.
I went over to the wheel and picked up the radio and called for Sam. There was no response. I tried on the set of frequencies we’d agreed on, but got no response either.
“I can’t get them!” I called over to Andy, who was bent over and looking at Tony.
“Then we’re on our own,” Andy called back. He didn’t sound all that optimistic.
Chapter 20
Zombie War Journal – 12/4/2019
By Lieutenant Andy Summers
I wished Sam was with us. He and Tony could do field surgery. They’d shared stories of instances when they had to treat a man with a bullet wound on some mission or other, and how they’d each done some pretty awesome things regarding medicine.
They’d shown me quite a bit and I’d studied as much as I could… but how much can you learn in four months? I mean, it took these two guys’ years, hell, decades to master their crafts.
“You can do it,” Tony said, almost like he was reading my mind, “Just remember what we’ve talked about. And I’ll be here to guide you, so no worries.”
“How…” I asked in surprise.
He grinned even in pain, “I’m a mind reader, buddy. What’s first?”
Jesus, even with a bullet wound, Tony was trying to teach me.
“Examine the patient and determine the location and extent of the injury,” I recited.
Tony nodded, “It’s my left shoulder, I think.”
His dark blue sweatshirt was stained black with the darkness of his blood on the left side of his chest, shoulder and arm. It was hard even to see the bullet hole, although I did find it near the top of his left pectoral muscle.
“I’m g
oing to have to cut this away,” I said.
“Right,” Tony agreed. He was sitting on the starboard cockpit bench, leaning back against the cushion.
“Can I help?” Brenda asked nervously.
“Yes,” I said, “I need some hot water in a bucket and a couple of clean towels. And some anti-bacterial scrub. There’s some in this med kit, but I might need more. There should be some Purell down below.”
“Okay,” Brenda said and then hesitated, “who’s going to drive the boat?”
Tony grinned at her, “The boat drive’s itself, for now.”
Brenda grinned sheepishly. I guess she forgot that we were already on autopilot.
I opened the medical kit and frowned down at it. It had a lot of the junk that most first aid kits had and some extras… but it wasn’t a field surgery kit. There were lots of Tylenol, Benadryl, Dramamine, Ibuprofen and other over the counter pills. There were some bandages, gauze pads, scissors, tweezers and a shitload of band aids too.
“I know,” Tony said, “This is one area we’ve kind of let slide. Ironically, Sharky will probably find all the medical gear we want at MacDill.”
I shook my head, “You should’ve gone with them and gotten shot there, then. There isn’t much in here. I can clean the wound and bind it up… oh, here are some sutures… but still…”
“One thing at a time,” Tony said.
I took out the scissors and began cutting away the sweatshirt, exposing Tony’s lean and muscular torso. The guy is ripped, and I hope that would help him. Hopefully his robust health would make him get better faster.
Brenda brought me two dish towels, one dry and one wet with cold water, “I’m boiling some water now, but I figured you’d need these to wash him.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the towels.
“How’s it going over there?” Tara called from behind me aboard Sorcerer.
“Working on it,” I called over my shoulder, “How are we doing?”
“Trucking along,” Tara said, “Still only halfway to the bridge.”
There was a nice bullet hole in Tony’s upper chest and it was bleeding pretty heavily, although not pulsing, which was good. I told him this. Then I leaned forward and looked at his back and didn’t see an exit wound.
“No exit,” I said, “Means the bullet is still in there. Isn’t that unusual for a rifle?”
Tony shrugged and grimaced, “Not for five-five-six rounds. They’re designed to enter and tumble for the most part., although I think one guy had a pistol. That bullet hole looks bigger than twenty-two caliber. Probably a .38.”
“Well,” I said, pressing the dry towel to the bullet hole, “Whatever it is, it’s still in there. So now what?”
Tony smiled, “It needs to come out.”
I scoffed, “Oh, yeah? I’ll just reach in and grab it, then? We don’t have shit for this, Tony. Who knows where the damned thing even is.”
“Probe the wound,” Tony said.
“With what?” I asked, not believing this.
“Your finger, of course,” Tony said with a ghoulish smile.
“What’re you, a fucking comedian?” I asked.
Tony only shook his head, “Sanitize your hands, put on a pair of gloves and poke a finger in the hole and see if you can feel any foreign object. If not, then it’ll have to stay in for now.”
I squirted a healthy amount of the Purell in the med kit on my hands and rubbed them together vigorously until the stuff dried. I then put on a pair of nitrile gloves. Just the thought of sticking my finger inside the wound gave me a full body shiver.
“It’ll be okay,” Tony said.
“Do you want some pain killer or something?” I asked, maybe trying to delay this.
Tony shook his head, “It already hurts like a mother fucker. Just be quick and careful.”
I gulped, removed the dry towel which was half bloody already. The bullet hole looked like the mouth of a cave, it seemed huge and dark and foreboding.
I clenched my teeth and slid my index finger in. I was surprised it would fit, but I guess the bullet hole was larger than the actual bullet that had made it. It was an odd sensation. The wound was wet and warm and kind of reminded me of hamburger meat.
“Oh, baby, that’s so good,” Tony groaned, still with that fucking smile on his face.
“Oh, you’re just a sick fuck,” I said in disbelief.
Tony laughed through his groans, “You’re so big…”
“Oh my God…” I heard Tara say behind me. With the two boats running together three or four feet apart, she was less than twenty feet away.
I didn’t feel anything that felt like a bullet, though. I could swear I felt his collar bone along the top of my finger, but nothing else.
“Nothing?” Tony groaned.
“No,” I said, starting to pull my finger out.
“Not yet,” he said, “Go in as far as you can and wiggle it around a little, see if you can trace the wound track. They don’t always follow a straight trajectory once they hit flesh. Often the bullet tumbles and turns and goes in another direction.”
I grimaced and did as he said. Nothing felt like a bullet and I couldn’t tell if the wound changed direction or not. I swear I felt something stringy like an artery or vein or something.
“Okay,” Tony said, “Ease out. We’ll just have to pack it until we can figure something else out.”
I pulled my finger out and it made a sickening sucking sound as I did. I felt my stomach lurch and I must’ve turned green because Tony patted me on the shoulder with his right hand, “You’re doing great, Andy.”
“Oh fuck,” I said, “That sound…”
Tony winked, “See why it’s better not to pull out?”
“Seriously?” I asked, “You’ve got a damned bullet in you and you’re making jokes?”
Tony half shrugged, only using his right shoulder, “what else should I do?”
He had a point.
Brenda came up with a small bucket of hot water and several clean towels. I bathed the wound again.
“Good work,” Tony said, “now you have to pack it. First, I want you to pour some of that Hydrogen Peroxide into the wound.”
He laid back on the bench so he was mostly flat on his back. I eyed him as if he were crazy. He only grinned.
I took the cap off the brown bottle and poured a bit directly into the bullet wound. Tony gasped as the liquid began to bubble and foam like a newly opened can of beer.
“That’s got to hurt,” Brenda commented.
Tony shook his head, “Not as much as you’d think… it’s more the shock of the cold. Okay, dry it off, put a clean cotton ball on top, then two or three of those thick gauze pads and then wrap a bandage around me so it holds everything in place.”
I did as he said and Brenda helped me wind the bandage around his shoulder and under his left arm and then around his chest to hold everything in place.
“Hey,” She said, “He’s got a big bruise on his back.”
I looked and sure enough, there was a dark purple bruise marring his dark chocolate skin right about in the center of his shoulder blade.
“I can feel it,” Tony said, “My shoulder blade has this really strong dull ache. The bullet is probably lodged there.”
“Well, at least we found it,” I said lamely.
Brenda looked at me, “So now what?”
“Now we wait and see what happens next,” Tony said. He began to rummage through the med kit until he found one of several plain red pill bottles. He opened it, took four capsules out, closed the top and then stood to put it in his pocket.
“What are those?” Brenda asked.
“Broad spectrum anti-biotics,” Tony said, “We’ve got about ten dozen capsules of Amoxicillin and Ampicillin. I’m doubling up on the first dose.”
“Good,” I said, “don’t want that thing to get infected. You should probably go below and rest for a while.”
Tony shook his head, ‘I’m fine. Sitting up here
in the fresh air is just as good as lying in a bunk. Besides, somebody’s got to keep an eye on things.”
I frowned but only shrugged, “So what’s our plan? I mean, we’ve got to rendezvous with our team and whatever they collect. But where and how?”
“That’s probably up to Sam,” Tony said, “We need to get in touch and let him know what’s up.”
“We’ve also got to keep our eyes out for Mark and his gang,” Brenda said, “I can’t imagine they’ll just give up now.”
“I can’t believe they wouldn’t,” I said, “I mean, what’s the point? Other than simple revenge or whatever.”
Tony grinned, “You’re applying common sense where it doesn’t belong, I’m afraid. It’s been my experience that most people don’t use theirs. And even more than that, most folks are driven by their emotions. And of these, fear, greed, lust and anger are at the top.”
I frowned again, “Yeah, that certainly makes sense.”
“It’s pretty true,” Brenda offered, “Hell, that’s how we’ve been running for the past six months. Horde, hide and stay inconspicuous. Mostly fear and greed, not so much anger… except for Mark.”
I sighed, “I’ve got to go back over to my boat. You want me to call, Tony?”
He shook his head, “No, I’ll do it. Go ahead and do your pirate thing.”
That got a chuckle from Brenda, “Freakin Errol Flynn over here.”
“Who?” I asked.
That earned me an eye roll from Brenda. I smiled at that. Of course I knew who Errol Flynn was. Most guys my age wouldn’t, but my mom has always been an old movie buff. Kind of rubbed off on me.
I had Tara repeat the procedure for Sorcerer’s main halyard. Before I swung over, though, I looked down at our hull.
There were probably about a dozen bullet holes in the fiberglass amidships. Mostly just chips but one or two actual holes. Not bad all things considered.
Tara must have seen me looking, “How does it look?”
I swung over and began to re-attach the halyard, “Not too bad. Some chipped glass and a few bullet holes. I think I can repair them with some stuff we’ve got on board.”
World of Corpses (Book 1): World of Corpses Page 25
