by Brown, TW
He was Aaheru…Pharaoh of New Egypt. He would show no fear…certainly not to these slow, uncoordinated shells of his former subjects.
That thought was blazing in his mind when the right side of the ship caught on the corner of the concrete pier, tearing a jagged hole all the way down the side. The screech of metal being shredded like paper was tremendous.
The ship lurched and Aaheru found himself airborne. His body flipped over the command station and slammed into the thick windows that ran the length of the entire bridge. He heard a crunch, and white-hot pain spread from his right arm just above the elbow, seeming to drive straight into his heart.
Aaheru looked up, trying his best to reconcile in his mind why the ceiling should be so close. As the pain drove back the cobwebs formed by the impact of the back of his skull against the window, he realized that he was underneath the counter that ran the length of the bridge. Somehow he had fallen to the floor and slid under that counter and now he was staring up at its underside.
He habitually went to use his right arm to push himself out from under the counter and was rewarded with fresh pain intense enough to make him vomit on himself. He choked on some, but eventually managed to regain his composure. This time he used his left hand and his legs to get out from under the counter.
He glanced down at his injured arm and could see the distinct mark on his skin where the bone was trying to push through. His arm was at such an angle that just the sight of it threatened to bring on another round of vomiting.
Struggling to his feet, Aaheru had to overcome the hard list to the right that the ship now sat due to the water rushing in the gaping hole that stretched for several feet. It was after he had regained his footing that he felt cold dread clutch his heart. His eyes sought the doorways to the bridge wings, expecting to see those things coming for him.
Nothing.
The collision and subsequent grounding as the bow slammed into a sand bar had sent the undead flying. Some had flipped over the railing and landed on the open deck below. Others had been flung into the water, instantly submerging and vanishing from sight.
Making his way to the starboard bridge wing, Aaheru stepped out and was dismayed at how far away he was from the pier or shore. He would require a lifeboat. Unfortunately, his right arm was going to make that almost impossible. And, if he were to manage such a feat, he would have no way to pilot the vessel to shore.
“My pharaoh!” a voice cried.
Looking around, it took him until the person had called out for a third time before he was able to spot the voice’s owner. It was Otmar Ali, the man who had discovered the attempt at sabotaging the ship. The heavyset man was at a lifeboat station with five others. They were busily freeing the small wooden craft and having a rough time of it as a dozen of the undead were closing in from both sides.
With a sharp twang, a metal cable parted and the small boat freefell the thirty or so feet to the water below. Otmar yanked a nearby woman and literally tossed her over the side. One of the people with him turned and threw one leg over the railing, but just as he was about to jump, one of the zombies caught him by the collar and yanked him back.
Otmar turned, and for a moment, Aaheru thought that the man would try to assist the poor individual who was screaming as his insides were being ripped from his body by the cluster of zombies that had fallen on top of the unfortunate soul. When the portly man simply kicked the closest zombie away and in the direction of the fallen individual without so much as a moment of hesitation, Aaheru knew he had just found his replacement for Ahi.
Four people, including Otmar, managed to make it over the side and to the water. One of those four, a young man wearing nothing more than his briefs, did not know how to swim. He flailed and thrashed about as the others climbed into the nearby lifeboat and paddled away towards the bow and Aaheru.
A hiss from behind him was the only warning that Aaheru got that one of those creatures was almost on him. He turned and had to lift his leg to avoid it being grabbed by the bloody and, for all intents and purposes, legless monster that was dragging itself along the tiled deck of the bridge.
The zombie had one leg gone just above the knee, splintered bone jutting out from the pulped flesh of what had once been a shapely thigh. The other leg had been wrenched off at the knee; both wounds still showing the effects of the extreme violence that must have occurred for such heinous injuries. The head rolled up and the tracer riddled eyes of Ahmes stared up at Aaheru.
He saw no reproach or recrimination at having been abandoned…just the blankness of death. Her mouth opened and she hissed again. This time, he struck out with a sharp kick that sent his would-be queen flipping over onto her back. The empty cavern where her womb would have been was far more convicting than her empty gaze. His child had been growing there. Now, it was an open wound that leaked the remnants of the few internal organs that had not been ripped out and feasted upon.
“Jump, Pharaoh!” a voice called from behind and below.
For just an instant, he considered ending the suffering of poor Ahmes. Several more of the undead tumbled through the port bridge wing, stumbling over the door that had come most the way off its hinges.
Aaheru turned and swung his legs over the rail. He did not look back as he jumped. Hitting the water finished the job of thrusting the broken bone of his right arm through the skin.
Darkness came as the water covered him and pulled him into its chilly embrace.
***
“Maybe we should wait it out here for a while,” Donna breathed.
Juan flicked an annoyed glance her direction. So far, Donna had done next to nothing but complain about how much there was to carry up the stairs despite not actually carrying anything. It seemed that every time he came down the stairs, she was sifting through one box or another and telling Frank the story behind a particular item and how it came to end up in said boxes.
“I am going back,” Juan said, trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Mackenzie needs me there and I will be at her side by tomorrow night.”
“The island really is the best place,” Frank insisted. “You have to see it. They have a fence all the way around…and houses for us all. There are lots of people and everybody seems to help each other. It’s safe there, Donna.”
“This place has walls,” Donna insisted. “And there are houses here.”
Juan gave a “follow me” gesture with his eyes to Frank and headed back inside and down to get the last of the boxes. Once they were out of earshot, he stopped and turned on the young man.
“I am only going to tell you this once,” Juan whispered. “I am leaving. And, I am taking everything I can with me. You follow me?”
“She’s just scared,” Frank insisted. “If she leaves this place…it becomes real.”
“You get that crap from watchin’ Dr. Phil?” Juan scoffed. “You can say whatever makes you feel better, but the reality is that this IS REAL. It ain’t gonna get any better, and I can tell you from experience that there are some people out there that would do things to your little girlfriend that would make death look good. Being here in the middle of a populated area is a bad decision. And seeing as how I know what this place holds, you can bet your ass I’ll be making another run here once Mackenzie is okay.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah…and so would anybody else that might accidentally stumble across this place. That is why I plan to clean it out within the next few weeks. The longer this place sits, the greater chance that somebody else finds it. A haul like this could set us up, not just for the winter…but permanently.”
Frank almost looked like he was on the verge of tears. Juan almost felt sorry for the kid, but these supplies could allow his group to stay on the island and focus solely on strengthening the defenses. After his time around people like Gary and Travis, Juan knew firsthand that there were some bad guys out there.
“What do I tell Donna?” Frank asked weakly. “She wants me to stay. She sa
id that she and I could start our own little world here…like Adam and Eve” He said that last bit in a rush, and Juan could see the flush of embarrassment turn his cheeks a deep crimson.
“Look, kid,” Juan sighed. “I feel for you, but did you forget that three of your friends left looking for this girl. We have not seen any sign of them. To be honest, the girl seems a bit…off.” That was really the nicest way he could think to put it. The bottom line was he thought that Donna was a few cards short of a full deck.
“I suggest you do what you can to convince her to come. Otherwise…I leave you both, and when I come back, I empty this place.”
“You would really do that wouldn’t you?” There was hurt in Frank’s eyes. Juan saw it, and for just a second he wondered if just maybe his “street” attitude was coming through.
He thought of Mackenzie…of the children playing on the beach the day they finished the fence. He thought of the baby they’d lost…the dog almost biting Mackenzie…and how he was out in the outskirts of Portland where the undead now ruled and he was the trespasser.
“In a heartbeat,” Juan said with finality.
Before Juan knew it, Frank had a pistol in his hand. He pointed it at Juan, his hand visibly shaking.
“She wants to be with me…and she doesn’t want to leave her home. You can leave, Juan. Leave and promise never to come back. If you do…I will let you go.”
Juan sighed. His eyes glanced at the pistol. It was a SIG Sauer P239 and it would make a nasty hole in him. He’d noticed this particular handgun in the stuff that they had carried upstairs. Somebody had taken very good care of it, going so far as to put it in a cherry wood box lined with felt along with several cases of .357 ammunition.
“Frank, I’m really tired of having weapons pointed at me.”
“J-j-just l-l-leave.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Juan asked. He glanced up at Frank to make eye contact for a second, but he could not keep his gaze away from the pistol pointed at him.
“I’m making a life for me and Donna…just like you want to do with Mackenzie.”
“You are making a mistake,” Juan insisted. “You won’t last the week.”
“How do you know?” Frank tried to stand a bit taller as if that might make a difference.
“Because they won’t let you.” Juan gave a slight nod of his head and looked past Frank.
The young man looked over his shoulder. That was all it took. Juan lashed out with a big, meaty fist that slammed into the side of Frank’s head, catching him on the temple and sending him to his knees.
Before the younger, much smaller man could react, Juan kicked the pistol that had clattered to the floor. It spun away and came to rest under a folding chair. He kicked again, this time catching Frank in the ribs and sending him onto his back.
Before the kid had the chance to recover, Juan was on top of him and had his hands pinned to the floor. Frank’s mouth opened and closed, but all that came were weak squeaks as he struggled to get his breath back.
“That is why you won’t last,” Juan whispered. “We are down in the basement, what could have possibly come up from behind you. That’s the oldest trick in the book, and you fell for it.”
Frank tried to speak, but a mangled croak was all he could manage. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he closed his eyes. Juan wanted to feel sorry for the poor fool, but having a gun pointed at him erased any such sympathy.
“Now I am going to let you up. I am also going to check you for any more weapons. After that, I will be tying up you and your little girlfriend until I have found a truck and loaded everything.”
Frank’s eyes grew wide and Juan could see the fear. He also felt something warm on the back of his left leg. He sighed.
Climbing to his feet, he confirmed his suspicions when he saw the dark stain spread across the crotch of Frank’s jeans. This was not how he’d seen this scene playing out. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he might be handling things all wrong. If Mackenzie were here…would she approve? He brushed those thoughts aside.
Grabbing Frank by the collar, he hoisted the kid to his feet and dragged him over to a support column—four of them were interspersed in this basement.
He barely had to keep a hand on Frank’s chest to keep him in place as he was still struggling to get his breath back. In no time he had the young man secured to the wooden pillar and gagged. The next part was going to make him feel much worse.
“Donna, could you come down here for a minute please?” he called.
***
“This fire watch tower is nicer than my apartment,” Scott said as he tossed another log into the wood stove.
“I think we hit the jackpot,” Chad said from the desk as he flipped through the book full of topographic maps. “I think this has every single trail in the park noted. Not only that, but the various campgrounds…all kinds of stuff.”
“Now if we could just find some food,” Ronni grumbled.
“One thing at a time,” Chad said with a wave.
“We haven’t eaten since yesterday morning when we had the last of the rice,” Ronni insisted.
“In case you haven’t noticed…the stores are closed,” Brett grumbled.
“Why don’t you go f—” Ronni started.
“Enough!” Chad snapped. “We could not go down until we were sure those…wolves had moved on.”
During the first three days that they had been in the tower, there had been two more packs of the undead wolves that passed through. Chad was certain that it was two different packs because one of the packs had a black wolf that was largest he had ever seen. Not that he had extensive experience with wolves, but he’d been to the zoo. Plus, they’d had a few encounters since embarking on this journey. Also…that wolf was solid black. It stood out in the snow.
“And now that you think we can go down…just what do you expect us to find?” Scott asked without a trace of sarcasm.
“There are wild animals out here. I don’t really know what, but I do know that they are out there. If we can find something to use…like bait…we might be able to lure something in,” Chad explained.
“If we had something to use as bait…I’d eat it,” Brett said wistfully.
“Dad?” Ronni spoke in an uncharacteristic whisper.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Can we eat a giant cat?”
“What?” Chad got up and walked over to where his daughter was staring out the window. Crossing the open snow field below in a slinking crouch was a cougar.
“Let’s nail it.” Brett was already heading for the door with the crossbow in his hand.
“Wait!” Chad hissed. “Look at how it’s moving. It is stalking something.”
Scott was already on the other side of the room and looking out the window. He raised his hand to signal everybody to be quiet, but to come and join him.
From this vantage, they could see a steep rock wall. It was practically vertical and thus only had little pockets of snow here and there. Standing on an impossibly narrow crease that looked like it wouldn’t provide much more than a fingertip’s grip were a trio of bighorn sheep. They were trapped. Below them was the cougar, but about a dozen feet above them was a pack of the zombie wolves.
As Chad watched one of the wolves that was swatting with a paw in absolute futility at the sheep leaned too far forward and plummeted the hundred or so feet to the snowy ground below. There was an explosion of white when it hit, but the wolf did not reappear. However, that action was enough to spook the cougar. With ears pinned back, the big cat bounded away and vanished into the distant trees.
“Hand me the binoculars,” Chad said over his shoulder. He didn’t see any need to whisper. The zombie wolves were far enough away that he doubted conversational voice levels would attract their attention.
Scanning the cliff, he could see several of the undead wolves pacing back and forth. He wondered why they didn’t all just tumble over the ledge. Zombies, as far as he’d seen,
didn’t show any sort of self-preservation instinct. Maybe the wolves were different.
After looking at all the possibilities, Chad had a plan and quickly laid it out for the group. Once everybody made it clear that they knew their part, they geared up and headed outside. As what seemed to happen to most of his plans lately, this one went off the rails almost right away.
For once…it was in their favor.
The wolf-zombies seemed to change almost instantly as soon as the group stepped out of the tower and onto the ledge. They all watched in amazement as one by one the monsters hurled themselves off the ledge at them. Of course they did not come within twenty feet of the actual tower.
In the time it took Chad and the others to recover from the shock and surprise, the entire pack had landed in the snow below, but the fall was such that none of them would be giving chase to anybody.
It took three attempts, but Chad was able to finally put a bolt from the crossbow into one of the bighorn sheep. It plummeted from the cliff face, landing within a few yards of the cluster of wolves that continued to struggle despite shattered legs and backs. An hour later, all of the wolves had been dispatched and Scott was busy field-dressing their kill. Ronni watched intently, curious about the process.
“Didn’t your dad ever take you hunting?” Scott asked as he worked with almost surgical precision, skinning the carcass.
“He was in prison for most of my life.” Ronni glanced over at her dad, and not for the first time, wondered what she might have missed growing up without him.
“Oh,” was Scott’s only response. Inwardly he was wincing. In all the action of the past several weeks, he’d forgotten all about Chad’s past.
That evening, they all climbed into their sleeping bags with bellies more full than they had been in a long time. One by one they drifted off to the crackle of the fire. Contented smiles playing at the curves of their mouths even as they slept.
