by Bob Howard
The crew of the first boat apparently decided that stuck was better than dead, so they engaged their engine and drove up alongside the second boat. The shadow stayed just out of reach for the time being, but then I saw something I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
With growing horror, the crews of the two boats saw the same thing I was seeing. There were more and more infected dead coming in from upriver, being carried along by the current. Hundreds of infected that were not stuck in the mud began piling up on the infected that were stuck below them. They made slow progress, but using the dark mass of infected below them, they were crawling from body to body in the direction of the two boats.
Less than twenty yards upriver from them, the crews of the next two boats were watching helplessly as their friends had become mired in the bodies. The crews felt something bumping against the hulls of their boats but were too late reaching the conclusion that the bumps were more infected dead coming from somewhere upriver.
I figured the huge shadow in the water had been the dead that had fallen from the dock on the previous night, but I couldn’t imagine where all of the new infected were coming from. The last time I had seen the Chief and Kathy was when they had gone up the Ashley River to the Coast Guard base, and I wondered if they had anything to do with it. If anyone could be responsible for hundreds of the infected being washed out of Charleston in the river it would be those two.
The crews of the second pair of boats could have turned toward deeper water and raced away, but they were too slow to react, and they were pushed by the growing tide of bodies moving with the current. Their hulls were being slapped hard from the port sides, and they were quickly forced into the shallow water of the marsh grass just like the first boats. Their fate was determined more quickly than the first two boats because the mud wasn’t as deep. The boats were stuck, but the infected dead were pushing themselves into standing positions and beginning a slow walk toward them.
The gunners on the two boats began firing at the infected, but they were panicked. The bullets were wasted on bodies and even thin air with very few heads being hit. They succeeded in knocking down the growing army that was closing in on them, but it wasn’t long before they ran out of ammunition, and the infected were pulling themselves onto the stern. All eight crewmen went over the bow and were trying to cross the marshy mudflats between the river and the mainland. It wouldn’t be long before they found themselves in the deeper pockets of mud that dotted the flooded marshes. There was nothing predictable about where the mud was solid and where it was a deathtrap, and one by one there were eight living people immobilized to the knees by the mud.
The infected dead that followed them were moving at a much slower pace, and many of them became stuck in the mud just as the living had done, but whenever they became stuck, it forced those that were coming from behind them to take a different path. Gradually the mud pockets were filled, and the infected were almost walking unimpeded to their prey over more solid ground. They bumped into their fellow infected. They fell and were sometimes knocked over again before they could even get back up. They even got stuck when others fell on top of them, but they kept coming.
The eight crewmen were spread out across the mudflats standing between patches of green grass, but the wall of slowly advancing infected dead had grown to dozens. I could see the crewmen twisting and turning, trying to pull themselves free. One of them broke free from the suction of the mud and found himself on a patch of solid ground. For the first time, I saw that crewman show some common sense. He began moving carefully in the direction of one of the other men until he could grip the other man’s outstretched hand. They were far enough from the others to take their time, so they worked together to get the trapped man free.
For a moment they moved toward a third man who was facing in their direction. Even though I couldn’t hear them, I knew the trapped man was begging for their help. I also knew from experience that the slowly advancing horde of infected dead was increasing the pitch of their groaning when they advanced on a victim. Then I could tell the two free men were telling the others how sorry they were that they couldn’t help. One of them did the sign of the cross as he turned from the others. Even as they turned and began cautiously finding solid ground between the patches of mud, the first of the infected dead reached one of the living men. He seemed to be sucked up in the swarm of bodies just as he had been sucked in by the mud.
The two escapees were holding onto each other and making steady progress toward the mainland. If they didn’t panic, they would make it.
I shifted my view a little and zoomed in on the first two boats. It was like seeing a logjam of bodies, and it reminded me of when we saw the mass of bodies pop to the surface behind Mud Island after the Russian ship had blown up. The difference was these bodies weren’t swollen and bloated from being in the water for months. They weren’t covered by blue crabs and unable to move because of the extra water weight. These infected were able to grab at the growing mass of bodies and begin crawling forward.
Crewmen who jumped from the bows of the first two boats became stuck immediately. There were fewer patches of solid ground available to them once they were closer to the dock. Those that stayed in the boats had a choice between trying to fight off the infected dead or joining their living friends. Then there was the third choice. I saw one crewman put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Yet another crewman went up on the bow of the first boat, took aim, and mercifully shot a crewmen who had become stuck in the mud. I saw him put the barrel of the gun to his own head, and then he pulled the gun down and studied it for a moment. He didn’t have a bullet left for himself.
I looked at the monitor view that faced the mudflats just in time to see the two crewmen exiting the marsh grass and disappearing into the woods. For now they were safe, but I had no idea what it would be like for them where they had found safety.
The six crewmen who had been with them were all vague shapes in a sea of swarming bodies. I hadn’t seen if any of them had taken the fast way out by eating a bullet, but it didn’t matter anymore.
The man who had run out of bullets was standing on the bow doing a good job of clubbing infected dead with the empty pistol. If he couldn’t shoot himself, he was at least going to take as many of the infected with him as he could.
During the massacre, the two boats that remained by Castle Pinckney had problems of their own. They had watched as the other four boats were gradually doomed by the floating horde of infected. When they finally decided to attempt a rescue, they found their propellors were so fouled by bodies that had drifted down their side of the river that they wouldn’t turn. They were busily pushing at the bodies with anything they could find when one of the crewmen screamed in pain. I couldn’t hear him, but I knew what had happened by watching his shipmates. They rushed to him as he pulled back a badly bitten arm.
They had entered the harbor at night with twelve boats and lost two in the first minutes. Now they had lost four more and had an injured crewman on one more. They had six boats, but two were still trying to get themselves free as they tended to the wounded man. The commanding officer had watched with growing anger and a fair amount of confusion. They had mocked the dead when they were examining a camera on a small island to the north, but now they were being beaten by the infected in the water.
He ordered his remaining four boats to move in at high speed to try to at least free the two boats by Castle Pinckney. If he had known the officers on those boats were too cowardly to assist the other boats sooner, he would have had them shot. Now he was having to rescue them.
I wished for about the tenth time that the others were awake to be watching this, but at least it was being recorded. I had no sooner made the wish when they all arrived, laughing and joking after a long night of safe sleep. Olivia and Chance had dropped all pretense of simple friendship. They had their arms interlocked and leaned into each other as they walked.
I was frantically waving at t
hem to hurry up, and the laughing stopped as they ran over to my console to see what was happening. Tom and Bus got to me first with Olivia and Chance close on their heels.
The shock on their faces was obvious. Swarms of infected dead were out on the marshy mudflats to the left of the Fort Sumter dock. Four boats full of infected dead were only a short distance from the dock, and there was a man standing on the bow of one boat swinging a pistol like a hammer. The main view was a monitor that showed four boats racing at high speed toward Castle Pinckney where two other boats seemed to be just sitting in the shadow of the old fortress wall. Even as we watched, a group of the infected dead appeared at the top of the wall and began falling onto the boats below.
“Where are they all coming from?” asked Tom. The note of disbelief in his voice could not have been disguised.
“Beats me,” I said, “but they seem to be coming from upriver somewhere. There’s been a steady flow of them. I got it all on film, but trust me, I’ll never try to get away from them by driving a boat into the marsh.”
Chance said, “Hey, everyone, check this out.”
He pointed at a screen I hadn’t been watching, and when we turned to it, we got the surprise of our lives. A Coast Guard ship was charging toward the four boats at high speed, and it looked like it was all business with three fifty caliber machine guns mounted on the bow. Even before it seemed to be in range of the four speeding Cuban gunboats, the machine guns opened fire.
Remote controlled guns had the advantage of not placing men in harm’s way, but their biggest advantage was accuracy. They could compensate in a split second for waves or swells, and they began targeting sooner because the computer told the gunners when to open fire.
The fifty caliber rounds ripped through the gunboats as if someone had reached out and torn them in half down the middle. The lead boat that carried the commanding officer disintegrated first, and the others were shredded as they tried to turn away and run.
The crewmen of the remaining two gunboats thought better than to open fire on the bigger ship as it began a sweeping turn toward them. They had managed to toss the infected overboard and still had only one wounded crewman, and they wanted to keep it that way. They all climbed quickly onto the bows of their boats and got down on their knees with their hands behind their heads.
As the Coast Guard ship came across their bows, they watched the fifty caliber guns rotate together as one. We were sure they were going to be cut apart they way the other four boats were, but the ship cruised past as if it was slicing through the water and began another sweeping turn back toward Fort Sumter.
“That has to be the Chief,” I said.
“And Kathy,” added Tom. I noticed he had a trace of a smile on his lips.
“There’s another boat coming from upriver,” said Bus. “Looks like the boat the Chief and Kathy left with, but I can’t tell who’s driving it.”
The Coast Guard ship completed its turn and came up broadside to the dock at the deepest spot. The name on the side of the wheelhouse said it was the Cormorant. We watched through our cameras as Kathy and the Chief emerged from the wheelhouse along with two teenaged boys. The other boat was being driven by a teenaged girl, and she disappeared somewhere on the other side of the larger ship. We saw Kathy help her climb aboard over the port side railing.
“Smart,” said Bus. “They’re keeping the boat out away from the dock in deeper water.”
It wasn’t that we thought it could be anybody but the Chief and Kathy coming back with guns blazing, but this time we were all amazed. The Chief was always coming up with a way to beat the odds. He just didn’t believe in losing. No wonder he was so hard on himself when he came back without Allison.
They knew someone would be watching through the cameras, so Kathy and the Chief got the two boys and the girl to line up with them on the deck of the Cormorant facing the fort. On a signal we couldn’t hear, all five of them held hands and then did a deep bow for us. We started laughing and applauding at the monitors as if they could hear us.
I turned in time to see Tom disappearing through the door of the control room. At first I thought he was just doing what I would have done if it was Jean down there on the deck of that ship, but then the urge hit me too. That was a real Coast Guard ship down there, and it had the potential to have me back with Jean much sooner than I expected. I jumped out of my chair and caught up with Tom before he reached the tunnel to the surface.
We each hit the ladders at full speed, and if not for the fact that I almost beat him to the top, I wouldn’t have even paid attention to the fact that I was more physically fit than I had been in years.
Tom opened the door and was running as fast as he could. The sunshine felt good, but the place really reeked because of all the killing in the last couple of days. Since I had to stop to close the door, Tom put some distance between us. We were like two kids trying to win some sort of prize. At least we were until Tom stepped on something that made his feet fly out from under him.
He had gone through the tunnel and was making the turn on the dock when it happened, and it looked like he was airborne forever. He sailed out over the mud and landed not far from the first gunboat that had been stranded near the dock.
No one could have been more surprised than Tom, but all of us felt equally helpless. Tom was closer to the boat than to the dock, and all we could do was yell at him to climb. We were all so focused on Tom and the infected dead that were trying to reach him that we hardly noticed the obvious. One of the hands that was reaching for him was the crewman on the boat who had been fighting the infected with an empty gun. Tom reached up and grasped the man’s hand in his, and made it to the bow of the boat just ahead of the snapping jaws of an infected dead.
The bow of the gunboat was separated from the main section by a windshield that had managed to stay intact despite the infected that kept trying to climb over it. The man that had pulled Tom up with him was leaning over the windshield and cracking heads as fast as he could, but Tom didn’t have a weapon. All he could do was watch.
The sound of the bullhorn on the side of the Cormorant was much louder than the Chief had expected, but the results were what he had hoped for. The infected dead in the back of the gunboat turned toward the sound and also made themselves easier targets for Kathy. The Chief yelled into his microphone for Tom to get down on the deck and to take the other guy with him.
At first the Cuban sailor misunderstood what Tom was trying to do, and he resisted, but when Kathy began firing the fifty caliber machine guns in their direction, he didn’t need more explanation. Kathy kept the shots as high as she could and shredded the infected that she could target. There were still a few left standing, but the Chief was already in a position on the dock where he could shoot effectively.
When it was all over, Tom helped the rather uncertain sailor to his feet. Even though he had rescued Tom, he wasn’t sure how they would treat him. What he didn’t know was that the Chief already admired him for putting up such a good fight. He still had a grudge against the Cubans, but this one sailor might not have had anything to do with shooting him down.
Getting them from the bow of the gunboat to the dock was a bit tricky because there was still a dark shadow under the Cormorant that was growing. More infected dead emerged from the water and crawled over the bodies that accumulated there. Kathy and the Chief took turns shooting them as the infected crawled closer and closer, but they were never in danger of losing control of the horde. It occurred to the Chief that the number of infected was much larger than normal, but then he started to laugh. Kathy looked at him like he had lost his mind.
“Care to let me in on the joke, Chief?”
As he sighted in on another infected he said, “I just figured out where all of the infected dead went after we walked them off of the dock back at the Coast Guard base.”
“You have to be kidding me,” said Kathy. “We did this?”
“I guess so. We must have emptied out the city. If there are a
ny survivors left in Charleston, they’re going to have a quieter night than usual.”
I threw ropes over to both men so they could be pulled loose if they got stuck, then I lowered a rope ladder from the dock. Tom came up first, and the Cuban sailor followed. When they reached the dock, Kathy was there to hug Tom. The Cuban stood off to one side and wasn’t sure what he should do next.
When the Chief walked up and looked down at the man, I thought he was going to jump back over the side. The Chief had a stern look on his face, probably remembering what it felt like when his plane was crippled by one of the gunboats, but he held out his right hand to the frightened man. The Cuban looked at the size of the hand compared to his own then tentatively shook the Chief’s hand.
The Chief said thank you to the Cuban in Hispanic then said something I totally didn’t understand. The man answered and gestured toward the harbor. The Chief explained to us that the Cuban said his commander had bragged about shooting down a seaplane. The Chief asked him a series of new questions and then told us we had one last chore to take care of. He said we were going to do the right thing and take the Cuban sailor back to his remaining friends who were still stranded at Castle Pinckney.
Tom and Kathy walked back down the dock still holding hands, and that’s when I remembered the kids. The three of them were still standing on the deck of the ship looking like they didn’t know what to do.
Kathy introduced them to Tom and then to everyone else. One at a time they shook hands with the adults who were beaming at them like they had never seen a kid before. Tom sized up the boys and figured they were in their early teens.
He was big when he stood next to them and he said in a fatherly way, “I have a daughter who’s just a little younger than you guys. You know what that means?”
They weren’t sure what he was getting at, so they both said in unison, “No, Sir.”
“That means she’s too old to date. You follow me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
