by Mark Clodi
“What do we do with her Carl?” asked Tom, not wanting to rely on the man, but feeling compelled to do so.
“Dump her, like the others.”
The group was into their second day of clearing the ship. The first day the all of the living had stuck together. They moved zombies off of the upper two decks and routed power back to the areas they needed to be in. They had spent a restless night in one of the many restaurants that littered the Lido deck, this morning Angela had said that Mary Beth's burns were chafing as she walked and she could not keep up. So the two women had locked themselves into the “Crown's Grill” to rest for the day while the four men went out to start clearing the lower decks.
They had not run into any crew members who were worth keeping and Tom was worried that they were the sole survivors on the ship. 'And if we're it, who will run this thing?'
Lance and he had spoken at length with Paul about this very thing the night before. Carl chimed in that maybe the four of them could get the ship moving enough to get close to land somewhere, from there maybe there would be people who could help them.
Lance said they were not dead in the water either, they ocean was pulling them around the gulf and sooner or later they would come into sight of land, when that happened they could set out in a life boat. This led to a conversation about what they would find on land. Focusing back to the situation at hand Tom realized the other three men were all looking at him, as if expecting him to answer a question.
“What?” he asked.
“Do we dump her?” Lance asked.
“Can you make her go?” Tom asked Carl.
“Yeah, she isn't stronger than me. Should I?”
“I don't think having two of you around would be a good idea, you don't have the best track record.”
“Okay.” the woman started marching in front of them, falling into step behind a dozen other undead ahead of them. “We should dump these now, she is harder to control and I don't want to take a chance of losing her.”
Upon hearing this, the three men all pointed their weapons at the zombies down the hall.
Carl chuckled, “Sorry, I am not in any danger of losing her, I just don't want to add more and with our luck we'd run into another one who had come back, then there would be a problem.”
The three living men didn't let up their guard as they marched the zombies up the deck over to the edge of the ship. The aft balcony on the Lido deck was a straight drop into the ocean and the men had found one section of railing that could be removed to facilitate marching the zombies into the drink. As they moved that direction the woman started to talk.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Don't worry about it.” Carl said.
“I don't want to go. You're gonna drop me into the ocean aren't you? Stop!”
Carl struggled to move forward, prompting Lance to aim at the woman and fire two shots into her head from fifteen feet away.
“Fuck! Thanks for the warning Lance!” Paul yelled, rubbing the ear closest to the rifle. “I think you blew out my fucking eardrum!”
“Sorry, it looked like she was resisting.” Lance said.
“She was.” Carl said, “But I had her.” Even as he spoke he was directing some of the other zombies to pick up the woman and drag her body to the back of the ship.
“That's just creepy as shit when you do that without speaking to them.” Paul said, still rubbing his ear.
Carl shrugged.
“What's wrong Carl?” Paul asked.
“Nothing.” though clearly there was something wrong and all of them knew it.
Tom nodded at Paul's quizzical look, encouraging him to ask again. “C'mon, spill it. You're helping us out, if there is something we can do to help, let us know.”
Carl stopped, the zombies ahead of him stopped simultaneously. 'Now that is creepy.' thought Tom.
“Alright two things are bothering me. First we don't have any crew to help run this ship, Lance just shot one of them who could have helped us without much direction from me and I don't see us running into many more of people like....like me. And second, what are you going to do with me when the ship is cleared?”
“You want us to keep more of the...of the smart ones alive? No fucking way, we don't trust you and you were a preacher!” Tom said.
Carl nodded, “I have some things to make up for. But who is going to run this ship?”
“We haven't figured that out yet. The three of us....”
Carl cut Tom off, “See! I knew it, the 'three of us', you aren't going to keep me around at all! You think I want to be dumped into the ocean any more than she did? Do you?”
The men stared at each other for a moment, with the three humans distinctly aware of the dozen zombies just a few yards away. Finally Lance said, “We were thinking of a life boat actually. For you.”
“You weren't planning on killing me?”
“No, we aren't like you, killing people to cover our asses, even zombies.” Tom said.
Carl looked pointedly at the woman's corpse the zombies still held, then back at the three men, “You aren't?”
Tom flushed, “Not her! You're working with us, helping us and trying to make up for what you did. She was just a...”
“Just a zombie weaker than I am? One I could hold still so Lance could pop a couple caps in her head?”
“Jesus! You're twisting this all around! We didn't start eating you! You and your kind started this!”
“Tom, calm down.” Carl said, waving his bound hands in front of him in a placating manner.
“Don't tell me to calm down!”
Carl put his hands down; silence fell between them for a minute and then said, “I am sorry.”
Tom snorted, but said nothing.
“I didn't choose this. Neither did you. I admit to the part I played. Everything is done for a reason, I still believe that. For some reason God chose this to happen to me and I was...disoriented at first. I think I have found my center again and after a night of reflection I feel I can live with my sins and moved on to make atonement. However, just because I can atone... Well this conversation and your righteous anger has changed me. I see now that I have only been focused on myself. How can I survive in this form? How can I keep myself from harm? How can I live with what I have done? These are all about me and while I was almost able to break this hold after you spared me on the bridge, I really hadn't. It is your anger right now that has shown me the error of my ways, as I said, it is righteous. I will strive to do better. If I am destined to be killed by you when I am no longer of use, then so be it. If you set me on a lifeboat, then I will make the best of it.”
Carl stood up straight and squared his shoulders. Behind him the zombies turned and resumed dragging the woman towards the hole in the aft guard rail. “Regardless of the path He has set out for me, I will follow it. There is a reason for everything, if only to act as instruction to those who remain when I am gone.” Carl turned and followed the zombies, then watched as one by one, they walked over the side of the ship and dropped into the ocean.
“Do you buy that crap? Tell me you aren't buying that load of shit?” Tom asked the other two.
“It's a start.” Lance said.
“I'm not a religious man. He killed Erik, but we can still use his help. Do you want to kill all these zeds by ourselves?” Paul asked.
“Zeds?” Tom asked.
“I saw it in a movie. Short for zombies. I don't know what to call the smart ones.”
“Smart zeds?”
“Kinda basic, but it will work.” Tom answered, “Does this change anything?”
“Ah was brought up in God. Ah have seen things that don't have any other explanation than a Lord in heaven. Ah believe in atonement and forgiveness. But ah don't believe Pastor Carl is done making up for his sins. Ah am not sure he can. We'll just play it by ear, if he plays straight with us we put him on a boat. That's still my vote.” Lance said.
Carl was not beyond hearing range, so Tom cast Lan
ce a look, then nodded and said “Okay. We'll play it square if he plays it square.”
Paul caught on to the other two men's shared look and nodded as well, “Fine. Why change a good plan anyway?”
The rest of the afternoon went smoother and Carl grew more helpful after their discussion. They had almost cleared the last of the cabins on the upper deck when they came to a doorway that Carl stopped at.
“What?” asked Tom.
“This one is different. There are humans in there. Living people; like you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Their colors, they are like a kaleidoscope of swirling brilliance. It is hard to describe. If I had to guess I would say I am seeing souls. It is beautiful. I can hardly stand to look at the living.”
“So what is different from the ones inside?”
“There are some who are very colorful, living, but others that are not so bright, they look almost like the woman you...we...killed earlier this afternoon. Like 'smart' zeds, as Paul would say.”
“So what do we do?” Tom asked the others. Currently they didn't have any zombies, they'd just returned from dropping another dozen into the sea.
“Knock.” Paul said.
Lance shrugged and looked at Tom, “Might see what they say. It can't hurt, we have the guns and Carl, if anything goes wrong.”
“At least we have the guns.” muttered Tom under his breath as he approached the door and knocked on it.
A moment later he heard a voice on the other side, “Who is there?”
Tom looked at Carl, who whispered, “Zombie.”
“My name is Tom. We're trying to find people to help us get the ship moving and clear out all the infected people.”
“Go away. We are staying in here until we get to port.”
Speaking softly Tom said, “I am not leaving zombies in there with living people.” Paul and Lance nodded, Carl agreed after a moment.
“I don't know if I can do anything to that zombie though, he is stronger than me.”
“So'kay, we have our own form of persuasion. Who wants to kick the door in?” Tom asked, looking at Lance.
Lance grinned, “Why do you always look at me for stuff like this?”
“I'm outta shape and Paul is strong, but wiry, you have muscle and bulk.”
“Ah always knew my mama's food was going to get me in trouble.”
The men moved out of the way and Lance stepped forward and gave the door a single firm kick. It buckled and flew open immediately, revealing a very surprised looking man wearing only a bathing suit. He was young, in very good physical condition and bald. His white skin showed some evidence of sunburn and the pale markings on his face made it look as if he had recently shaved off a beard and mustache.
“Get out!” He screamed, backpedaling into the room.
Lance looked to Carl, who nodded and said, “Zombie, I am sure of...” then the preacher fell to his knees clutching his head.
That was all the confirmation that Lance needed and he fired two shots from his rifle into the bald man, who was trying to get around the corner out of sight. The bullets missed baldy's head, one struck him in the arm, the other hit his shoulder, spraying a red mist into the room.
Lance continued forward with Paul following immediately behind him, pistol at the ready. Tom walked in after his companions, keeping an eye on Carl and trying to follow what was happening ahead of him as they moved into the room.
The 'room' was actually a suite, a very large suite, with at least two other rooms off of the main living area. Tom stopped at the corner, so he could watch Carl. Lance strode to the closed door on the left hand side and kicked it in as well, following up with a quick three round burst of gunfire. Paul was watching his progress, but keeping an eye on the other doorway, so he was not surprised when he saw the woman with long black hair come barreling out of it headed straight towards them.
He brought his gun up and yelled, “Stop!” the woman kept coming, but Paul didn't fire, “Is it a zombie?”
Tom pointed his shotgun at the woman, but he too, refrained from shooting. Lance was inside the bedroom, beating someone with the butt of his rifle and yelling for help. The woman leaped at Paul, who twisted sideways and pistol whipped her in the head as she went by. The raven haired woman recovered all too quickly, bouncing off the wall and reaching out to grab Paul's face with one hand, pushing him backwards into the back of a chair that was bolted to the floor of the cabin. Paul rebounded and turned sideways, maintaining his feet.
This gave Tom a clear shot, but before he could take it he was hit from behind and pushed over the couch to land on top of the glass coffee table. Looking back he saw Carl hit Paul from behind, ruining the man's shot at the woman, who then closed to tackle the man. Both of them fell onto Tom and the remains of the shattered table. Carl moved on to the bedroom and out of sight.
“Watch your back Lance!” Tom yelled as the woman elbowed him in the stomach. That blow knocked the wind out of him, and Paul was left on his own as Tom tried to recover and crawl over the back of the couch to get away from her. Pulling himself over the couch, without the shotgun, Tom looked back to see the woman on top of Paul punching him in the head. The man was trying to fend off her blows, but they were raining down like hail in a tornado and after a moment he stopped defending himself. Tom grabbed a lamp off of an end table, but it was attached, looking around for another weapon he spotted a block of knives in the kitchenette, struggling to his feet he ran over to them as the woman yelled in rage and scrambled after him.
Tom reached the knives first and snatched up one with each hand, then turned to face his adversary.
“Hah! What're you going to do with those? Tickle me?”
Behind the woman an unknown gagged man, with his legs tied pulled himself into the living room by his arms from the second bedroom. Tom sneered at the lady in front of him, then switched his knives around in his hands, holding one pointed up and the other pointed downwards in a style he saw in a movie once a long time ago. It almost looked like he knew what he was doing. “C'mon then bitch, if you think you can take me!”
She laughed at him and stepped forward, Tom poked his knife into her ribs, where it got stuck when he tried to pull it out for another stab. With his other hand he sliced across her face, cutting through her nose and into her left eye.
'Shit. It worked!' he thought, the woman responded by punching him in the side of the head, sending him reeling towards the veranda. Tom struck the sliding glass door, which shattered into a spider web of cracks, but didn't fall out of the frame. The woman followed up on her punch by stepping towards him again and Tom quickly regained his balance and stepped away from the wall, trying not to get corned or fall down. He had no desire to have the woman sitting on him punching him in the face like she had done to Paul.
“Knives...I bet you're thinking you should have made a run for the door about now aren't you? Or just left us alone.”
Tom continued to fall back away from her as she stepped forward. On the floor out of sight Paul moaned and Tom heard the sound of glass being shifted around. The woman started to look over that direction when Tom yelled out, “Dootie-face!” he couldn't think of anything else to yell and it did serve to distract the woman.
“What?” she asked, focusing on him, “Dootie-face? Are we in second grade?”
“I couldn't think of anything else to say.” Tom swapped the knife into his other hand, opting to go back to a traditional style again. The woman's face stopped oozing the dark line of ichor and her eye blinked, then cleared as Tom watched. “Holy shit. Did your eye just get better?”
She smiled and “Yeah, do you give up?”
“I can't give up to a dootie-face.”
The woman snarled and jumped towards him, only to be blasted by the shotgun and throw into the balcony door, which shattered this time, dumping her out onto the veranda. Tom stepped after her, nodding to the man who had the shotgun propped up on the couch. Outside the woman was twitching on the
ground, her body was moving in starts and stops sporadically, flailing against the floor and rail of the balcony. She had a massive hole in her neck which was oozing dark, thick blood. As Tom watched the wound started to scab over and mend itself. Wasting no time Tom leaned over and picked the woman up, then tossed her over the side of the ship. The rail was taller here than on the lido deck, but adrenaline lent him strength and she flew over the barrier as a result of his over active throw.
Tom ran back into the room pausing to pick up Paul's pistol and drop the knife next to the gagged man who still had his shotgun. Then he moved into the bedroom where he was confronted with a strange scene. Lance was pushed up in one corner with Carl in front of him, the other zombie that Lance had shot was standing in front of Carl. Carl had one arm stretched out in front of him, holding baldy at bay. The rifle was on the floor, its barrel bent at a forty five degree angle.
“Can't. Hold. Him. Help Tom.” Carl said, speaking each word slowly and precisely.
Tom brought the pistol up and fired three shots into baldies head. Immediately Carl sagged and fell to his knees.
“Thank God. You did it.”
Tom had the pistol pointed in Carl's direction, then looked over the man at Lance, “You okay?”
“Bruised. That boy could take a punch, that's for sure. And a bullet.”
“I think we knew that already. Head shot or it's wasted.”
“Paul okay?”
“Bruised, but that boy can take a punch too.”
Paul moaned from the other room, “My face hurts.” The two humans went in and pulled him to his feet.
“Damn boy, just looking at you and my face hurts too. Get some water Tom, let's get him cleaned up.”
“Careful.” Carl's voice came from the bedroom. “Make sure you rinse the blood off, especially if any of it could be from the woman.
Tom ignored Lance for a moment and helped the other man on the ground finish freeing his legs. The man pulled the gag, which looked like it was a bikini top out of his mouth, then raised his hand for some help standing up.
