by DeLeon, Jon
The icy water filled Kurt’s mouth and lungs as he fought against the current. The frigid temperature pushed the breath out of his lungs. He threw tired, cold arms around, trying to swim. Rocks beat against his legs, bruising his shins and knees. He struggled with the rushing stream, fighting for every breath. Choking and spitting, he eventually found his way into an eddy that formed about two hundred feet down the river, behind a fallen tree.
Kurt dug his fingers into the river’s bank. His nails scratched into the clay as he pulled chunks of mud from the bank. His feet dug deeply into the ground as he crawled free from the icy stream. He pulled his choking, shivering, shaking body into the forest. Kurt stood up on wobbly legs. He looked around, trying to assess his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tyler. He was another twenty feet downstream. His body had been high-sided on a rock. It was sitting half-in and half-out of the water.
Kurt took off down the shore.
His feet and boots splashed as the water sprayed into the air from his jogging steps. He ran up to where Tyler was. He couldn’t reach Tyler without getting back in the river. Kurt walked a few feet back upstream and jumped in. He planned it perfectly. The current pulled him right to Tyler. Kurt grabbed him. With the added momentum of Kurt’s form, they pulled free from the rock. Together they flowed downriver. Kurt now fought the current and gravity, trying to keep both their heads above water. Forty yards downstream, the river turned and widened, giving Kurt the chance he needed. He swam to the opposite shore, one arm around Tyler, dragging him along. He pulled Tyler free of the water and put his ear to Tyler’s mouth.
“Thank God you're still breathing.” Kurt looked around. He heard nothing coming from the woods around them, but he did see signs of civilization. A river cabin sat thirty feet downstream. Kurt picked Tyler up, struggling under his weight. Kurt carried and dragged him the distance to the cabin.
Kurt set Tyler down behind a rock, leaning against it, and set out to explore the cabin. It was super small, only about ten feet long by six feet wide. A slim, metal chimney stuck out from one corner of the roof. There was one square window, if you could even call it that, on the side of the cabin and a simple door on the front that led onto a single stair.
Kurt circled around. The cabin on the other side was windowless but had a short canoe hanging on hooks. A few feet away from the cabin was a shed just as big as the cabin itself. A master lock held a latch in place. Next to the shed was a pile of chopped wood, neatly stacked. Kurt looked around and spotted a single outhouse about twenty feet into the woods, but nothing else.
Kurt went to the door of the cabin. It was locked, but with a small shove, it gave way. He slowly entered the cabin. “Hello?” No one was home. It was as simple on the inside as it was on the outside. A set of bunk beds with some blankets piled on them sat on one wall, with a small stove in the corner that was connected to the chimney. It was all cast iron, a classic wood-burning stove with a flat top for cooking. A pot sat on top of it. That’s all that was inside. The only other thing was a key hanging on a hook just below the small window.
Kurt grabbed it and walked back to the shed. One twist of the key and Kurt unlatched the lock and stepped inside the shed. Inside were white buckets, all placed on shelves lining each wall. Boxes sat on the floor, piled to the roof. Kurt examined the closest bucket. It had Russian letters handwritten on it in black ink. He opened it. Kurt could cry. Inside was rice. Kurt opened another and found more rice. He next opened a box and found it to be packed with Russian MREs. There was enough food to last a while. Kurt turned to go back to Tyler and saw a medical kit on the back of the shed door. He grabbed it and headed for Tyler.
Kurt grabbed Tyler, carrying him inside, and plopped him down on the bottom bunk. He looked at Tyler’s leg. A huge, open gash was still bleeding slowly. Kurt grabbed some gauze from the kit. He looked at Tyler. “Thank God you’re not awake for this.” Kurt roughly wiped the wound of dirt and dead skin. Next he poured some alcohol from the kit on it and wrapped it back up. Tyler was out cold, but he still moaned in his delirium.
Kurt talked to him as he pulled a blanket over Tyler’s body. “Don’t worry, man. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get a fire started and warm you up. I’ve still got the lighter from the bonfire, amazingly enough, and my backpack stayed attached to me even after that tumble in the river. Then I’ll make some food. With the stores outside and my water-filtrating Nalgenes, we’ll be able to stay here a while. What do you know? The backpack actually saves us after all. Don’t worry. I got you, man. I got you.”
CHAPTER 5
Key West Harbor: Outbreak Day + 69
After explaining to the children what was happening, Joe had asked Kira to keep them downstairs with the blinds shut as they pulled into Government Cut. He didn’t know what to expect. What he saw when they arrived was beyond his wildest expectations.
Joe was standing on the fly deck as he sailed up Government Cut. At first, upon seeing the seemingly undamaged Portofino Tower, he had gained some hope that maybe Miami and Miami Beach had held together somehow. Maybe that convoy liaison had exaggerated the situation to scare him. The tower stood tall as ever, shining in the sun. The facades and windows glinted brightly. It didn’t seem like anything was different. His gaze moved over to Fisher Island. It, too, seemed untouched. The condos and apartments sat quiet. The beaches were clear. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Then as he piloted the boat farther into the harbor, the hope Joe had found disappeared. His eyes had fallen on MacArthur Causeway. This was not the happy vacation spot Miami had once been. An undulating mass of bodies wriggled for hundreds of yards, pressing into each other, barely any air between them. The scene was enough to trigger a claustrophobic response in Joe’s head. The mass of undead were all trying to press west, toward downtown Miami, but the road was blocked. Burnt-out vehicles and buses had been turned on their sides and piled high, forming a makeshift wall across the causeway.
Zombies were scratching, clawing and trying to climb the wall. On top stood men with metal poles. They were pushing the leading undead back down. One man waved a welcoming hello. Joe waved back. The man had a big grin on his face. He looked almost like a greeter at an amusement park. He was just so happy, too happy.
His smile finally steeled Joe’s thoughts. What a weird world this is.
Joe piloted the boat into the bay near downtown Miami. It was exactly as the convoy envoy had told him. The makeshift boat docking formed a twisting and bending matrix of ships as the currents pulled them back and forth. It was like Key West, but bigger and less organized.
The city itself was a picture of the apocalypse. Buildings were toppled, and pieces of rubble crumbled from their structures. Others were untouched. It took Joe a moment to figure it out, and then he saw the pattern. The buildings had toppled over, creating a wall of cement and steel.
Joe could see glints of light reflecting off moving metal in the distance. Must be more pokers like the smiling man on the causeway, he thought to himself. Joe studied the scene, and from what he could tell, the buildings had created a semicircle around the water, starting from the bayside park, reaching all the way north, just past the causeway. Joe smirked as he passed a double-sided road sign that was hanging from the bottom of the underpass of the causeway bridge. “Welcome to New” had been slathered in white paint next to the printed “Miami.”
Joe couldn’t help but read it out loud and laugh. “Welcome to New Miami.” He added, “Hopefully we’re welcome.”
Joe found the open spot he had been directed to in the boat docking and pulled in. Kira tied it up to a barge that was acting like a makeshift dock. Joe rechecked the tarp. It was tied securely, and a few small pieces of palm leaves and a well-placed coconut could be seen poking from under the tarp.
After a few minutes docked, Joe had changed into his military gear. He wore his uniform pants, boots and blouse. He figured that if he looked military, it would carry more weight. At least people would know he wasn’t we
ak. He holstered his sidearm and grabbed his rifle. It was an M4 he had taken from the base when he left. He slung the shoulder strap on and headed upstairs.
Kira was kneeling, talking to the kids.
“Okay, and remember what I said?” Kira asked the three children.
“Yes, Miss Kira. Don’t open the door unless you use the special knock,” Jack answered.
“And what is that knock?” Joe asked in a commanding tone.
The kids looked at him. They all had a little fear in their eyes. Joe was geared up and ready for action. His jaw was locked and his face hard. Jack practically whispered, “Three, one, four.”
Joe nodded. “Good.” He took a knee so his eyes were on the same level as theirs. “We should be back before night. If we aren’t, you stay hidden here. I promise you, we will be back.
“What about Daddy?” Christine asked.
“What?” Joe said, caught slightly off guard, his hard face melting for a second.
“Well you said we’d come back for him. Is he going to come with us now?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” Joe hadn’t realized that Kira hadn’t yet explained that their dad wasn’t coming back. “I’ll ask the mayor and see if he’s seen him.”
“Can we come help you find him?” Jack asked happily.
“No!” Joe said rather harshly. “No matter what, do not leave this boat. Understood?”
All three nodded, too scared to talk.
“Now head downstairs.”
The children followed each other silently in single file.
“You’re scaring them.” Kira was wrapping a scarf around her head in an effort to hide her face slightly.
“They should be scared, and you should too.” Joe was all business.
“But, Joe . . .”
“No, no buts. We are about to go into a dangerous city. I know that it seems harsh, but they needed that right now. You need to be prepared too. You heard the warning from the convoy, right?”
“Yeah, I was listening to the radio call.”
“Look, you’re going to see things that I wish you didn’t have to see. Don’t react. No matter what you see or feel, just keep moving. Accomplish your goal, get the supplies we need and get out of there, back to the boat, as efficiently as possible.”
“Okay,” Kira said with a somewhat flippant tone. She didn’t like being lectured.
“Seriously. No matter what, remember that what you see is normal life here. It’s the status quo. You won’t understand it, and it may seem wrong to you, but the people here live this way. Don’t do anything to upset the system.” Joe had flashbacks of Afghanistan for a second. He had seen men smoking and getting drugged up while the women worked. One time, a woman had looked at him and smiled. The next day, her husband had beaten her. When Joe saw her swollen face, he had wanted to go teach the husband a lesson, but he was the leader of the village. The Army needed their cooperation to save American lives from the Taliban. He wasn’t allowed to risk that for anything.
Kira’s confused and concerned tone in her next sentence broke his flashback. “Wait, aren’t WE getting the supplies? You’ll be with me the whole time?”
“No. There isn’t time.”
Kira looked at Joe, suddenly more nervous.
“Take this.” Joe handed Kira the KA-BAR combat knife. She looked up at him. He responded, “Just in case.”
Kira nodded, centering her strength.
The pair walked out of the yacht only to be greeted by three men carrying assault weapons.
Joe stepped in front of Kira, shielding her. The man in the middle lowered his rifle. The other men remained trained on Joe. The man in the middle spoke. He was tall and of average build. He wore a white business suit a size too small and stained. Around his neck hung a thick gold chain. He looked like a cartoon.
“Are you Bob?” the man asked
“No,” answered Joe, clear and strong.
The man paused for a moment, looking Joe over. He asked, “Are you Joe Berger?”
“I’m Captain Joe Feller. I’m expected.”
The man smiled. “Well I guess you’re the man I’m supposed to meet then. I’m Raul.” He turned and nodded to the two other men. They lowered their rifles. Turning back to Joe, Raul spoke in a relaxed manner. “I’m going to escort you to the mayor’s office, but first, there’s the little problem of paying the docking fee. It’s a gram of gold or two of silver to dock for each night. Double that for protection.”
Joe knew protection schemes well. Either you pay or these men would rob you and destroy your belongings. He didn’t have much of a choice. Joe reached into his pocket and grabbed out a gold ring that had been used as trading currency in Key West. He held it up to Raul. “This should be about right.”
Raul reached out and took it. He placed it in his palm, feeling its weight. Nodding, he placed the ring in his suit pocket and turned to his men, giving them a thumbs up. They walked off, presumably to patrol the harbor. Their protection scheme only worked if other thieves didn’t encroach on their territory.
Raul turned back to Joe and Kira. She had stepped around Joe and now stood next to him. Raul leaned his head to the side, like a lizard twisting its neck, hungry for a meal. “Is she yours?”
Kira took offense at the question. “I’m not anybody’s. I’m not something that can be owned.” Kira glared at Raul.
Raul’s eyes moved up and down Kira’s frame, eventually meeting her stare after a long survey. After a few moments, he straightened his neck and turned to Joe. “Better watch that one,” he said in a playful tone.
“She’ll be fine,” Joe said back, strongly.
Raul shrugged, laughing. “Follow me and I’ll take you to the mayor.” He turned and walked down the dock.
Joe and Kira followed.
A few minutes later and Joe, Kira and Raul were walking along a side street. Raul was acting like a tour guide. He pointed out buildings used for entertainment, trading and companionship, all of which were less than welcoming. They came upon what used to be the American Airlines Arena. It had tents on the steps leading into the arena, and the door and windows were blown out.
“Here we have the market. Buy anything you want. From pieces of normality to zombie art.”
“Zombie art?” Kira asked.
“Yes, we have some talented bone sculptors and inscribers,” Raul answered.
Kira wrinkled her face in distaste.
“Hold on a second,” Joe said.
Joe spoke quietly to Kira as Raul tasted a sample of roast squirrel being sold at a stand.
“Okay, listen, take the silver, buy what we need and get back to the ship. Oh, and remember, whatever you see that is wrong, it’s not wrong here.”
“Yeah, I got it. I’ll be fine.”
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Joe and Kira kissed. She walked up the stairs heading inside.
“She decided she wanted to go shopping, huh?” Raul sidled up to Joe, watching her from behind. “Women, some things never change.”
Joe shot Raul a glance.
Raul shrugged and continued forward. Joe took one last look at Kira and followed Raul.
New Miami Market: Outbreak Day +69
Kira walked up the stairs to the American Airlines Arena. All the glass was broken on the main level. Colorful sheets blew out of them in the wind. Those that used to welcome people to the arena had been ripped off their hinges. Yet other than that, nothing on the outside seemed to be damaged. The multiple-story front wall made of glass was mostly unbroken, just a slight covering of dust.
A pair of women wearing coverings over their faces came out the door. Each reached a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun, passing Kira as she surmounted the final few stairs. The first thing that hit Kira like a sweet wave was the smell of baking bread. It made her stomach growl instantly.
Kira moved with a little extra pep in her step as she went inside. She took a moment a
nd gazed around the main entry area. The front wall of glass let the sun in, illuminating a colorful world of booths spread out across the entire lobby. Most of them were square EZ-UPs, set up so vendors could pitch their wares. Kira walked by a man selling fabrics, another selling palm-weaved mats and another selling perfumes. She kept pushing deeper into the market, following her nose, suddenly in search of bread. A short distance down the concourse of the arena, she found what she was looking for. A concession stand had been turned into a bakery. Kira rushed to the counter and purchased a pretzel and a loaf of bread. She stuffed the bread into her bag and quickly began to eat the pretzel. She munched as she wandered farther into the arena concourse.
As she was walking, she saw a sign taped to the wall leading into the actual arena, reading, “Soaps and Laundry,” which was on her list of things to acquire. She stepped inside the arena. The sunlight disappeared instantly, but it wasn’t dark. Inside, the arena was lit by vendors’ candles and lanterns. Each vendor here was perched with their products draped across seats. The air was full of noise. Kira could hear people haggling, laughing and calling out, advertising what they had to sell.
“Clothing repairs! Cheapest you’ll find anywhere!”
“Get your seeds here! Seeds!”
“Stay clean, stay healthy! Soaps of all kinds.”
Kira’s eyes were drawn to what used to be the basketball court floor. There had been a Heat game the night before the Enerjax release, so the wood was still laid out, but now it was fenced in. Inside the fencing was a mass flea market. People were paying, as they exited, for the things they had picked. It all seemed unreal. It was a scene from a video game or science-fiction movie. Kira hadn’t really ever been a fan. Now she was living in a sci-fi nightmare.
Kira finished her last bite of pretzel. Time to get to work.
She worked her way through the stands, learning quickly to follow the arrows on the floor to avoid going against traffic. After about an hour, she had been able to find all the provisions that they needed for the journey to Europe.
