by Ryan Colley
I risked a look over my shoulder, past Tracey and towards the boat which stood still in the water. What was taking Gary so long?
****
Gary
Gary had always been a good swimmer. His mother made sure of that. She had constantly reminded him that her father had drowned in the family pond. She had later admitted that it was nothing to do with his lack of ability to swim, but he had passed out drunk. Regardless, the fear of God was put into Gary whenever he was near water, but Mama wasn’t having any child of hers scared of water, so he had swimming lessons every day for fifteen years. Overreaction? She considered it proactive. Even into adulthood, Gary made sure he went swimming once a week. Old habits were hard to break.
Taking all that into consideration, Gary still found it difficult to swim out to the abandoned boat. The water would wash over him and push him back and under. He felt the growing frustration of not getting anywhere. The tide was just too strong. Every foot he gained, he lost half of that and sometimes more. He felt he was fighting a losing battle. Gary wasn’t one for giving up, but he was cold, wet, and growing more tired. His arms burned and eyes stung. He was beginning to think they would have to find another way. They could retreat back to the boathouse and try again. Or they could –
Boom!
What in God’s name was that? Gary felt the hair on his neck stand. He looked over his shoulder mid-breaststroke and saw his beautiful wife reloading the shotgun.
He had three immediate thoughts. The first was that he needed to swim faster for Tracey’s sake. The second was that he should not have let Sam convince them to leave the safety of their home. The third? A completely irrational and insignificant realisation that an implement of death could make such a simple noise. The jet of cold and salty water that went up his nose and down his throat brought him back into the moment. His focus was the boat!
****
Sam
I saw Gary in the water, making his way to the boat. He looked as though he was fighting a losing battle. Who could fight the ocean and win?
Despite the impossibility of the situation, I could see Gary making progress. He was winning inch by inch, and his resolve never seemed to waver. Before long, I watched Gary grip the edge of the boat and hoist himself up. It was only the pounding of feet and snarls of the hungry closing in on me that tore my eyes away from the miracle that was Gary. I rolled my shoulders, ready for the next onslaught of the undead.
“Ready?” I said to Tracey, looking over my shoulder. She nodded, clutching the shotgun. No, not the shotgun, her shotgun. She didn’t hold it like it was a safety blanket anymore. She held it like a confident warrior. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A hardness. A hardness that would help her survive in a broken world. And in that moment, I saw the beauty in her that Gary saw. She was strong and confident. Standing on that waterfront, I knew I didn’t want anyone else by my side. Not Gary. Not my mother. Not Alice. Not even Bear Grylls, the master of survival. Tracey was my backup, and I was happy.
I swung my machete at the first of the next wave of undead.
CHAPTER 26
Gary
Once Gary had pulled himself up onto the deck, the first thing he did was look back to the waterfront to see how his Tracey was faring. She was doing fine. Amazing in fact. Sam was doing a fantastic job of protecting her. Gary could see that he was out in front, stopping any zombies from getting to her. Deep in the blood and gore. But as much as Sam was keeping her safe, Gary had an odd feeling. He couldn’t explain it, but something was gnawing away at him. There was something off about Sam. Not necessarily bad, but definitely not right.
When Gary had finally pulled his gaze away from his wife, he looked around the boat. He knew the model well. Had seen a fair few docked up around the boathouse. There was an enclosed cabin up five or six steps. A darkened window looked outward. The deckhouse. That’s where he needed to go. And he almost went straight there, until he noticed the blood droplets leading to the lower cabin.
Gary hesitated for a moment, knowing the darkness that awaited him should he open the door. But he knew that he needed to go there. He had to make the boat safe for Tracey. He looked around the deck for some kind of weapon. Found nothing of use. He considered waiting for Sam to get on board. At least then he would have backup. But if there were any zombies in there, they could get loose in the meantime. He sighed, then approached the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. He slowly twisted the knob, then suddenly let go. There was something … his survival instinct? Something was telling him not to walk in. He placed his ear to the door and tapped with his knuckles. Almost immediately there was the sound of thrashing and snarling, clinking of metal on metal.
Gary waited for the zombie to slam into the door. It didn’t come, yet the thrashing continued. Was … was it stuck? Trapped? He wanted to wait longer, but the occasional boom of shotgun blasts reminded him that he had limited time. He gingerly twisted the doorknob and let the door swing inward. Although Gary was confident that the monster within was confined, he wasn’t willing to bet his life on it.
The gloomy light of the outside world filled the darkness of the cabin. Gary could see that it was the dining room, with a door at the back leading to another room – the bedroom. There were strewn over chairs and shattered ornaments. Bloodied carpets and broken everything. But the décor’s condition wasn’t the main concern. What was the main concern was the zombie in the room. The literal zombie in the room.
The man had clearly bled out after killing himself. Deep slash marks on his wrists, a fisherman’s knife by his side, and a dried pool of blood spread around him. The former man had removed his shirt. He had, what looked like, bite marks on his upper arms and torso. A chain looped over his shoulders and around his neck, with padlocks holding the loop in place. He had looped the other end around a table, the base of which had been bolted to the ground. Something to keep it in place if the waters were rough.
The entire scene had clearly been premeditated. The chains, the slashed wrists, even bringing the boat to a stop. Had the man killed himself because he’d been bitten? Did Sam’s previous assumption about bites carry some truth? Or had this man thought the same? Regardless, the man had taken his own life. Gary said a short prayer for him. No one should suffer that fate.
The zombie continued to pull at its chains as if they weren’t even there. It continued to gnash its teeth and snarl. The presence of Gary encouraging the creature’s excitement.
Boom!
Gary had to act fast. Time was running out.
It didn’t take long to find the keys to the padlocks. They were on the floor, by the door. The poor man had probably thrown them out of arm’s length after he locked himself down. Gary still didn’t have it in him to put one of the creatures down in cold blood. It wasn’t an immediate threat to him, but he needed to dispose of it. He had a plan, even if he didn’t like it.
Gary approached the zombie slowly, waiting for it to extend its chain to see how far it could reach. He also held a long pole in one hand, which he had found on the deck, and in the other was a small ornament. It had a hollow in it, the same way a vase did, and fit perfectly over the end of the pole, which Gary proceeded to do.
“Open wide,” he whispered to the snarling zombie while pushing the object into the zombie’s mouth. It clamped down, expecting to taste flesh, but found the tasteless and inedible ornament instead. It didn’t matter to the zombie, though. It just tugged it free from the pole. With the ornament wedged in its mouth, it wasn’t able to bite anything else.
Gary knew he should kill the zombie, but he just couldn’t separate the person from the monster they’d become. He sighed as he walked forward, keeping the zombie at a distance by pushing the pole into its chest. Gary grabbed the keys and unlocked the padlock. The zombie, now free to roam, charged forward with its arms extended. Although Gary still had the pole pushed against its chest, the zombie pushed forward with all the force it could manage. The pole,
sturdy and metal, sunk into the rotten flesh of the zombie’s chest. It kept going until it hit bone.
Gary knew it was dead, but he couldn’t comprehend how anything moving wasn’t aware of the damage that was happening to it. But he also couldn’t afford to linger, so he led the zombie out, using the pole to keep it at a distance. Each step shook bits of congealed gore off the zombie, hitting the deck and making a soft splat.
Once he had directed the zombie to the edge of the boat, Gary made one final move. He twisted the zombie sideways, the pole tearing a large gash into its chest cavity as it tumbled into the water. He collapsed to his knees, heaving until vomit hit the deck and joined the gore. He stood, knowing his momentary respite was just that, and wiped his mouth. All he needed to do was check the back bedroom and pull up the anchor. Then it was time to get to work.
****
Sam
“He’s taking his time!” I panted, felling another zombie. I was covered in blackened blood and parts of decaying organs. There were bone fragments and flesh on the floor, trailed by corpses with pieces cleaved out of them. Have you ever seen decaying brain matter spilling onto the floor? The smell of decay never gets easier.
With each swing, I grew more tired. My shoulders ached from it. Arms felt like they’d been attached to weights. Every contact between blade and flesh and bone made me lose a little bit more of my will to survive. My skeletal frame felt as though I was being shaken to pieces. Movies made ripping the undead to pieces seem so easy, but it was incredibly tiring.
There was a blast from the shotgun as Tracey obliterated a zombie that had gotten too close for comfort. The shower of bone fragments was all I needed to know that I’d been saved.
“Cheers,” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. It didn’t help to remove the sweat and gore and probably made the matter worse.
“I hope he’s okay,” Tracey said, using her moment of respite to show concern for her husband. Almost in reply came the rumble of a boat engine starting up.
CHAPTER 27
It was such a beautiful sight, seeing that boat sail closer and closer. This was our salvation, and Gary was our very own Charon. He would guide us, the damned, to the other side … I really needed to stop with the mythological comparisons. At what point would it be too much of a stretch of the imagination to make them work?
I jammed the machete blade into yet another zombie, up through its chin and into its brain. Slain in one hit. I looked up and saw another couple of zombies run into view. We hadn’t needed to fire a shot in a while, so what was drawing them in? It wasn’t like they had echolocation. Or did they? It was hard to think with the roar of the boat engine thumping away behind me. Then it dawned on me. The boat engine! Damn. That was the noise drawing them in.
“You’re drawing them here!” I shouted once the revelation hit me. “Turn off the engine. Let the momentum carry you.”
Gary couldn’t hear me. He could see me waving frantically, but couldn’t understand my intent. He just continued onwards to save us but, unknowingly, probably dooming us instead. I turned to Tracey, ready to tell her to fight. I didn’t need to, though. She already knew what needed to be done.
The next group of zombies got to us before Gary did. But we weren’t going to be stopped that easily. Our bodies may’ve screamed with exhaustion, but that was better than death. Tracey brought down two zombies, with two succinct blasts, whilst I killed a third.
“Oh, come on,” I growled as more zombies came into view. We couldn’t kill any more undead without attracting more attention. On top of that, the boat would draw more. They would just keep coming. On the other hand, if we didn’t kill any of the undead then we would to die then and there.
“What can we do?” Tracey shouted, panic swelling as the number of undead around us increased.
“Let’s go!” I screamed as I grabbed a bag and tossed it over the huge gap between land and boat.
Like something out of a bank heist movie, the bag landed successfully on the boat. Tracey threw another, and I tossed the last one. I turned around to take down another zombie that had closed in.
“Come on!” Tracey screamed as she dived across the distance between land and boat.
“Here goes,” I huffed quietly to myself as I also threw myself towards the boat.
The difference between Tracey and I is that she landed gracefully. My overall size on an injured leg prevented me from getting a proper liftoff, and I collided with the edge of the boat. My lower half was dunked in the icy water, and my top half held on for my life. I dropped the machete onto the boat’s deck and pulled myself entirely on board.
I could hear the impact on water as the undead ran into the ocean to try and get at us. I didn’t care, though. Gary was already pulling away from land and we were safe. I was cold and wet and had almost been killed, but I was safe. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I carried on laughing until tears streamed down my face, and before long, I was crying.
“Is everything okay?” Gary climbed down to see what the commotion was.
“I have no idea,” I said between sobs. “I honestly thought that was it for us.”
But I wasn’t crying for the almost-loss of my own life. I cried because I would’ve died without ever seeing Alice again.
“Well … we made it,” Tracey said uncertainly, shocked by my sudden outburst of emotion. I dug out Thundy and showed it to Gary and Tracey properly for the first time.
“I need to get this to my Alice, you see. She’ll be scared without it,” I explained, as if that would answer everything. They both looked at me worriedly before turning to each other and hugging.
“I was worried,” Gary kissed his wife.
“Me, too,” she returned the kiss. I looked away from the public display of affection and noticed the gore-slicked deck. There also appeared to be vomit, which one of our bags had landed in. I looked at Gary and noticed that he was a shade paler than when he left to get the boat. He didn’t bring up the mess on the floor, nor did he even acknowledge it existed. Whatever had happened, I guessed Gary had defended the boat from the previous occupants and didn’t want to talk about it. There might still be hope for Gary yet. He was certainly turning over a new leaf if the evidence aboard the boat was anything to go by. I was proud of him.
After Tracey and Gary had finished their affectionate greeting, and all the adrenaline had left my body, I pushed myself to my feet. It was time to explore my new mode of transport. It wasn’t big at all, and three of us on it meant there was very little room. We would all be living very closely over the next … however long we were together.
Gary attended to the sailing of the boat, and Tracey was moving the bags into the cabin. I thought it would be best if I helped, so I picked up two holdalls and carried them through. The scene inside backed up some of my speculation about what had happened aboard when Gary arrived. The blood. The destruction. The chains? I would have to ask Gary about that. It was the only thing that didn’t add up.
I followed Tracey into the backroom, which was a pristine bedroom. Untouched by the carnage that lay in the other room. There were photos and other personal knickknacks, which Tracey quickly took to packing away in a drawer. I dumped the bags on the bed and went back for the last one. On my second pass through the living room, I took to observing every little detail about it. After all, it would be my bedroom over the following days. I certainly wasn’t getting the double bed to myself, so the bloody sofa it was. I would have to scrape and scrub most of it off before I slept on it of course. Wasn’t great, but it would do.
After moving the bags and helping the others set up our belongings for the journey ahead, I started preparing my own bed. My main concern was, of course, the blood. No amount of scrubbing would get the blood out of the material and carpet. I had to try solving this by thinking outside the box, and what cleaning couldn’t fix, had to go.
While tidying the mess away in that room, I found a small and deadly blade – fisherman’s knife. After I cleaned
it off, I used it to cut through the carpet and remove it in blood-stained sections. Most of it had sunk through, onto the surface below, but that just wiped away. I tossed the carpet and other bloody bits and pieces into the water. No one was around to complain about my ocean pollution. I used an untainted sofa cushion and a spare bedsheet as my bedding. I had already slept in worse. The sofa would be just fine. I kept the knife, using duct tape to create a makeshift sheath for it, and put it in one of my many boiler suit pockets. Finally, the finishing touch. I unwrapped Thundy and placed it on the table, facing my sofa.
“We’re on our way,” I said gently with a smile, stroking Thundy’s soft face. “It won’t be long now.”
****
Tracey
Tracey never liked being on the water. The vastness of the ocean terrified her, yet she felt safer with Gary there. He had sailed for years and never had an issue. Her focus was to get the boat ready for them to live in for the following days. Or however long they were there. They had spent so long focussing on getting to the boat that they hadn’t thought any further than that. They had relied so much on Sam that they’d essentially put their future in his hands. Whispers of doubt traced her mind as she heard him in the next room, talking to the bear he carried. Then again, Gary was there, too. Everything would be okay. It would have to be.
****
Gary
