The Chronos Plague (Book 1): No Time Left

by Talluto, Joseph

  On the back porch, there was a small wooden canoe with a wooden paddle tied to it. It looked like it could actually work, but since this cabin was fake, I wasn’t taking anything on faith.

  I decided to make sure I wouldn’t be disturbed in the night, so I went out and took a section of porch railing and walked up the trail a bit with it. I found a couple of trees to tie it to, making sure they weren’t perpendicular to the trail. I wanted a bit of an angle, so the zombies would hit the rail and then angle off into the swamp. It wasn’t as effective as a brick wall, but it was what I called an “it’ll do.”

  The sun was getting lower in the sky, and I knew I was going to have to spend the night here, maybe a couple of days. At least I’d be dry. This cabin was pretty tight, and the windows and doors seemed pretty secure. I made up a place to sleep, with an exit in mind should the need arise. I had supplies, so there was no worry there. My concern was the single exit off this island. But if I was lucky, the road might clear in a day or two.

  I counted twice on a single hand the number of times my luck held, and I never got to my ring finger. Oh well.

  The rocking chair on the porch seemed like a good way to spend the time before turning in, and I settled in to watch the sun go down. It was a relaxing way to finish the evening, and I listened to the swamp animals talk to each other as they either settled in or got up for the evening activities. I did start to hear some very guttural growling coming from the swamp, and I didn’t need much imagination to figure out what was making that noise. Unless I missed my guess, the local dinosaurs were coming out to play.

  The sun went down past the horizon, yet the sky was still well lit. The ground and the surrounding woods were dark, and the water was pitch black. I could hear splashing all around me, and in the reflection of the sky on the water, I could see several ominous ripples heading out around the island and even heading toward the island.

  Something resembling Satan crawled out of the water, and I was nervous enough to actually put a pistol in my hand. The alligator, a granddaddy at least fifteen feet long, turned to the side and gave me a very long, uncomfortable look. Something in its tiny reptilian brain told it that dinner was not on this porch and it strolled back into the water. Smaller sons of Satan crawled out of the swamp as well, but those little bastards just hung on the edge of the water and stared at me. I thought about shooting one of them, but I wasn’t going to waste a shot that may or may not kill the beast.

  The dark got deeper, and the sounds of the beasts got louder. Suddenly, there was a large splash, and things got interesting. Alligators from all over the place turned and headed in one direction, which was over to the trail that led to the cabin. There was another splash, and then there were a lot of splashes. I could hear snapping and tearing and more splashes, so I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was there was a feeding frenzy apparently happening near where I wanted to sleep.

  I went inside and locked the door, and for a moment, I thought about finding a high place to sleep. But the cabin was pretty well built, so I figured I was safe. I put some earplugs in and went to sleep.

  Daylight came in the form of small animals running around on the roof. I had my earplugs already in, and I seriously thought about sending a round through the roof to scatter the little beasts. But I realized that would cause a rupture in the integrity of the cabin, and I wasn’t going to do that. This place was relatively safe, provided you could get to it. If a family on the run made it to this cabin, and somehow made an agreement with the indigenous beasts, they could live for a while. They didn’t need an idiot putting holes in it and letting in moisture, mold, and insects.

  I crawled toward the window and took a look outside. Nothing was on this side of the house, so I carefully went toward the front of the house and looked outside.

  “Holy shit.” I had nothing else to say.

  The small area in front of the cabin was littered with small alligators crawling all over the place. They were eating bits and pieces of flesh that they found, and I could actually identify many of those bits and pieces. There were hands, feet, fingers, arms and elbows. In the water was a head floating around, and as I watched, the eyes looked over at me and blinked. Just then, a large swamp demon rose up and grabbed that head, disappearing beneath the water. All of the splashing I heard last night was a group of zombies running into my diagonal barrier and falling into the water. The splashing was essentially a dinner bell to the gators, and brother, did they ever come to the buffet.

  I looked around for my scooter, since I couldn’t see it, and my heart sank when I saw it over on the side of the house. I went out to the porch and took a closer look. The scooter looked like it had been dragged across the yard several times. The front tire had four really big puncture holes in it, and the rear one had three. So much for leaving here on wheels. I owe you one, Satan.

  I went back to the rear of the house and took the canoe off the porch. I put it in the water and it floated, so I had a little more faith that it might be seaworthy. I took it out again, and put it back on the porch. I didn’t want to have to fight an alligator for it. I hoped I wouldn’t need it, but I wasn’t sure how safe my driveway was. If there were a lot of zombies last night, then there were likely more of them. That seemed to be the way of things. You never knew when they were coming; they never made a sound. The only thing you ever heard was the slapping of their feet. If the ground was soft, they would come up silently.

  My driveway was very soft. And the dense vegetation made it impossible to see very far ahead. I could be surrounded and not even notice before it was too late.

  I went back to the rear porch. Guess I was getting out of here one way and one way only. I packed up my gear, ate a small breakfast, and went back to the canoe. I put my pack near the front of the canoe for a bit of balance and, settling myself in at the rear, I pushed off the shore and glided through the water.

  The sides of the canoe were alarmingly deep in the water, and I had to paddle slowly to keep from letting water in. It was an easy boat to maneuver, however, and I had no trouble moving across the water. I just had to be very careful not to tip over.

  The morning sun peeked through the canopy of the trees, highlighting the water and the deadfalls all around. It also served to show me where the alligators were sunning themselves. Fortunately for me, they were not interested in a small canoe paddling by. I didn’t act like any food they had eaten before, so they were not sure what to make of me.

  I moved steadily north, figuring at some point I was going to have to run out of swamp. This sort of thing wasn’t all that common in north Florida, and couldn’t go on forever. However, if I could stay on this as long as possible, maybe move up into some stream or river, that would actually help. Zombies could go in the water, but they didn’t unless they were chasing something or just fell in because they were stupid.

  I paddled for a couple of hours and saw nothing more than what I had seen when I first started out. There were trees, water, and wildlife. Through the trees and reeds, I thought I saw a couple of tents pitched on a patch of land, but I wasn’t about to stop and visit.

  After a couple of wrong turns, I found a waterway that led north. It had the hallmarks of a river, and I was happy to follow it along its course. I shared the course with an abundance of turtles and fish, but I noticed as I paddled north that the edges of the river started to smooth out and become more man-made. I drifted for a bit, and then went over to the side of the river. I found a nearby tree and sort of lodged my front end into it, effectively anchoring myself. I didn’t want to stop and get out just yet, since I was using the canoe pretty effectively and didn’t want to wreck my pattern just yet.

  I took out my map and after a few miscalculations, I figured I was at the northern end of the Tolomato River, right where it became the Intercoastal Waterway. I figured I could take this as far north as Jacksonville and have a better chance of finding a vehicle to get me moving on. I liked the canoe and all, but every time I saw a sw
irl in the water, I reached for my gun.

  I put away my map and suddenly froze. There was a rustling noise in the rushes, and it sounded like something was headed my way. I pulled my .45 and aimed it in the general direction of the noise. Whatever came through that vegetation wasn’t going to be happy meeting me.

  The reeds parted and a small red-haired girl looked out at me. I made my gun safe and she smiled at me shyly, like I was something new to play with. Her clothes were dirty, and she looked like she hadn’t eaten much in the last few days. A much louder rustling pushed its way through the vegetation and a young woman appeared at the edge of the trees. She caught a glimpse of me and grabbed for the child, reaching for a handgun that was stuck in her belt.

  I beat her to the draw and shook my head.

  “Not smart,” I said quietly. “A shot here could carry for miles.”

  She took the little girl’s hand and retreated to the woods. She never took her eyes off me, and I watched her go. As soon as the rustling was far enough away, I pushed off the shore and paddled quickly to put some distance between us. I had no idea what kind of friends she might have or what kind of weapons they might bring to bear, so a retreat was in order.

  This was what the world was. You couldn’t trust anyone. At least, not someone you just met. My personal paranoia was I trusted no one, not even after I knew them for years.

  I paddled further north, and started to see some signs of encroaching civilization. There were huge homes built near the waterway, and the ones I saw at first had large boathouses sitting out on the water. The sun was beginning to go down, and I knew that the setting sun was basically a dinner bell for any local swamp monsters. I needed a place to spend the night, but I also needed to make sure I had a retreat. I pulled up alongside the dock and popped out of the canoe, pulling it up onto the dock and making sure it was ready to go by just stepping into it, and propelling myself into the water. The dock was only three inches above the still waters of the river, so it should not flood the boat to get into the water. That was my hope. I didn’t have much room for error.

  The boathouse was a nice affair, complete with a small bedroom, sitting area, kitchen, and a garage-like area that contained a small speedboat. I knew almost nothing about boats, not ever having to use them over much. Although, technically, I was becoming an expert on dugout canoes. Anyway, this one seemed expensive, and the owner obviously would not skimp on something that was as public as a boat. As for myself, I just wanted a safe place to sleep.

  I watched the house for a while, and didn’t see any movement of any kind, so I imagined whoever had lived there was off someplace else, surviving the apocalypse as well as rich people do. I secured the boathouse, which wasn’t too hard to do, since it was out on the water. All I had to do was run a line between the pylons near where the walkway met the land, and I was essentially isolated. I did find it ironic that I was finding solace in houses that were surrounded by water.

  I spread my maps out and looked at my options. The river went north but then it turned every which way. I’d ride it all the way to Jacksonville, and then see if I could find a ride out of there. Another scooter would be great, but a motorcycle would be better. I’d have to see what fortune favored me with. All I wanted to do right now was get myself out of a state full of alligators. Zombies were bad enough without adding dinosaurs to the mix.

  As the day slipped slowly into night, I readied myself for the evening. The bag was placed close to the door for a quick grab on the way out if I needed it. I found a place far from the front door, but close to the rear door and out of sight of any of the windows. Ideally, anyone glancing this way would not have a reason to look in here, and if they did, they wouldn’t see anything of interest.

  Darkness fell and I was surprised to see lights on outside. A quick look and I saw pathway lights turning on. For a minute I was confused, since the power had been off for months. But then I realized the lights were powered by solar cell, which charged a battery to keep the light on at night. I’d have to remember to grab one of those on my way out. It would be useful to have a light I could just charge by leaving it exposed on the top of my backpack.

  Morning was a noisy affair, with both bugs and birds competing for the front of the chorus line. I roused myself and checked the surrounding area before I stepped outside to the boat landing area and scooped up some water from the river with a bowl I grabbed from the sink. I washed in the water, dumping and refilling it several times. One of the weird things that happened when the world ended was the rivers started running a lot cleaner. When people and factories stopped dumping stuff in the waterways, they cleaned themselves up. I could drink this water, but I wasn’t quite there yet. Washing with it, though, was entirely possible.

  I still didn’t see any action, so I decided to wander up to the house to see what the neighborhood looked like and if there were any usable supplies. Most houses had been looted by now, especially the larger ones, unless they were occupied by a very determined homeowner.

  The path up to the house was brick, hemmed in on both sides by tall, thick-bladed grass found all over Florida. The grass hadn’t been cut in a long time, and had reached its full height, which was about two feet. It whispered to me as I passed, shaking itself out in the morning breezes.

  Down by the river, there were a number of discreet splashes as smaller river dwellers went about their business. Frogs and fish passed each other while birds swooped and dove, picking up the insects disturbed by the morning commutes.

  I walked up with my short rifle at the ready, passing a paved area, and stepping up to a second paved area. This part had a small kidney-shaped pool that was filled with greenish water. A couple of ducks protested my intrusion on their morning swim, but quieted after I walked past. I could see into the house, and it looked like no one was home.

  I tried the sliding back door and it was locked. I popped the door in no time and stepped inside. The air in the house was stale, and that told me that whoever lived here had not been here in a long time. I started at the top floor and worked my way down, looking for anything that might be of use. I found little things here and there, but nothing that really made me take notice. Whoever lived here had pretty decent taste in décor. It wasn’t overly Florida style, nor was it the sterile style of white and silver. It was just decorated nicely.

  In the kitchen, I found a few dried goods, which I took, and several canned goods that seemed like they were still good. I had learned in the field that you ate whatever was going to feed you nutrition, not flavor. Several times, I had eaten bizarre combinations, like tuna and beets.

  The lower floor yielded nothing of interest, although I admired the little theater they had for watching movies. Six recliners facing a large projection screen, with a popcorn maker in the back. Not bad at all.

  I gathered my meager supplies and went back out the rear door. When I stepped outside, I heard a muffled pop. I ducked back toward the house, checking all around me. My first thought was the woman who I threw down on the other day had tracked me to this house and had brought reinforcements. But a quick check around showed me no movement, and if there was a sniper out there, he was a lousy shot.

  The next sound I heard was a crashing noise and what sounded like broken glass. It was coming from the house next door, and against my better judgment, I figured I’d take a look.

  The house I was at and the one next to it were separated by a tall hedge. Behind that hedge was an iron fence, but it may as well have been absent for all the protection it offered against people like me. On the other side, the landscape was a little more dense, and when I was finally close to the outer edge, I could see what the cause of the crash was. A man lay on his stomach on the porch, surrounded by broken glass. The blood surrounding his head told me he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. The only question I had was whether or not he was a zombie.

  Using the scope of my rifle, looking through the window’s broken glass, I could see a man sitting at the kitchen table.
He was eating a variety of food, and drinking like he hadn’t seen water in a while. On the table was also a large revolver. On the other side of the expansive kitchen, within sight of the man, was a young woman holding a little girl. The woman was in her early thirties, but looked like she was much younger. She was typical of the affluent people who lived down this way. Without much else to do, they worked out all the time. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I could see she was trying not to let her daughter see the body outside. If I had to guess, the guy eating had gained access to the house on some pretext, and had shot the father when that one discovered that his generosity was his doom.

  I saw the man pick up the gun and motion to the wife with it. She shook her head and I heard him shout something that made the little girl scream. He pointed the gun at the little girl and without thinking, I put three rounds from my rifle into his chest, the suppressor making the AR sound like a balloon popping. He was dead before the back of his chair hit the floor, a very stupid look frozen on his face.

  The woman looked out into the yard, stunned at the sudden reversal of fortune, and I crossed the distance at a run, making sure she didn’t make any further mistakes like trying to shoot me.

  I glanced at her and her child, and then turned my attention to the man on the floor. He was just a lump of meat after those bullets hit him. I went through his pockets quickly, producing another gun, a small semi-auto, and a handful of gold coins. That was a surprise. There were ten of them and they were all one-ounce gold coins. I pocketed five of them and left the rest on the table.