Chapter Fifty-One
Rosenberg rushed to the window and peeked outside.
“Oh, crap. There’s a huge bunch of zombies out there heading our way,” he wailed.
Eazy and I followed Rosenberg to the window. The pockets of undead we’d seen on the route down Christopher Columbus Drive had formed together, along with more recruits on the way and approached the RV on mass from the west side of the road. The undead hordes were around twenty-five yards from the store front.
“We got to get out of here, now,” Eazy hissed. “Let’s smash our way out the front.”
“No, it’ll take too long and we might get snagged on the broken glass,” I said. “If we cut ourselves that blood to the zombies will smell like a cheeseburger to a stoned guy. Let’s quickly use the back.”
“What are we still stood here for, motherfucker?”
We darted to the rear of the store and back through the outside exit. We threw the bags of clothes over the wall and vaulted over quickly. Scooping up the bags, we pelted around the side of the store and back into the street. The army of zombies closed in, fifteen yards from the RV. Stumbling, shuffling, moaning with arms outstretched, their faces green and puffy. All carried the remains of old injuries of how they became infected. Some wounds were more horrific than others. Some of the undead were unable to walk or without legs and crawled along on their hands amongst the shuffling feet of the gathering horde.
“Holy shit,” Rosenberg squeaked.
Soames jumped out of his car and ineffectively started firing his pistol into the crowd. Batfish saw us and rolled the RV forward. Julia opened the side door, wide eyed and frightened.
“Come on,” she called.
We drew level with the open door and threw the bags inside. Eazy dived in first followed by Rosenberg. I leapt onto the foot well and took another look behind us. Soames had given up trying to shoot the zombies and leaped back inside his Lexus with the clutching hands of the undead only a few feet away.
“Hurry up, Soames,” I yelled.
He started the engine and moved forward as dead hands grasped the roof and banged the windows. The Lexus pulled away from the zombie mass and quickly caught up behind us.
I ducked my head back inside the RV and slid the side door shut. Smith and Eazy were already trying on their new sports gear.
“Ah, Christ. I look like some fucking sports jock,” Smith groaned as he pulled on his New York Jets shirt, jog pants and Nike sneakers.
“You’re looking good, Smith,” Eazy said, smirking.
“Can anybody tell me where the hell we are going?” Batfish yelled from the cab.
“I’m just trying to remember my way around here,” Eazy called back. “I haven’t been around Jersey City for a while.” He moved into the cab to ride shotgun with Batfish.
I moved to the cab doorway and looked through the windshield. The undead grew in numbers as we passed through the street. The eastern end of Christopher Columbus Drive was more up market the closer we came to the waterfront, with large financial buildings and expensive looking fitness clubs. Clusters of the dead watched as we went by and slowly followed.
“Does the SatNav work?” I blurted, pointing at the small screen on the dash.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Eazy snapped, shooting me his badass look. “There are no more signals. We tried miles back.”
“We’re going to be in the fucking Hudson in a minute,” Batfish screamed. She twisted and turned the steering wheel to avoid stationary vehicles and large groups of zombies who grabbed at the RV with snarling, angry faces.
“Okay, take the next left,” Eazy said. “We’ll try and get back up on the Interstate.”
Batfish hauled the RV around the next available left exit. For one horrible moment I thought the vehicle was going to roll on its side. We’d be easy prey for the advancing mob of zombies in that horrific little scenario.
We drove by some large, high rise hotels with huge parking lots, where we could see the harbor and marina between the buildings. The blue rippling waves of the Hudson lay beyond, to the right.
“Which way now, Eazy?” Batfish asked, with some nervousness in her voice.
Eazy sat silently, glancing down the side roads to the left. The crowds of zombies milled around the streets and hotel parking lots, watching as we drove by.
“Take a left,” Eazy barked as we came to a four way junction.
“That takes us back into the city,” Batfish screamed, slowing the RV.
“I think we need to find Marin Boulevard,” Eazy said. “That route should take us right up to the Holland Tunnel Junction.”
“I hope you’re right,” Batfish said and took the left turn.
We headed west, away from the waterfront. I tried to get some kind of bearing to where the hell we were. The road narrowed to a double lane but cars blocked most of the left side lane. Eazy had only limited knowledge of Jersey City, we had no SatNav. I had the awful feeling we were becoming lost. The routes weren’t going to be traffic free forever. Sooner or later we were going to run into a road block. Some zombies who came too close thudded off the side of the vehicle and spun onto the road.
Batfish weaved in and out of the increasing volume of abandoned vehicles. She scraped the side of the RV and lost a side mirror on a truck lying across the road. Finally, we came to a cross road where the horizontal lane was wider. Batfish halted the RV.
“Is this it?” she said.
“Take a right,” Eazy said but he didn’t sound convinced.
Batfish right turned and followed the road. We passed a huge shopping mall on our right and drove under an underpass. Signs for the I-78 and entrance to the Holland Tunnel thankfully hung overhead.
“This is it,” Eazy said and Batfish blew out a sigh of relief.
“Thank Christ we made it out of there,” I said.
My relief didn’t last long as Batfish turned right, dodging abandoned cars in the process, onto the Interstate junction. A huge sign above the toll booths told us we were at the Holland Tunnel entrance. The toll entrances were totally blocked with vehicles and the whole tunnel was one long stationary traffic jam as far as we could see.
“What do we do now?” Batfish asked, slowing the RV to a stop.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“We either go on by foot or try another way around,” Eazy said. “Either way we don’t have much time to decide. Those dead bastards behind are going to catch us up soon and we’re already attracting attention.” He pointed out the windshield to a few lone zombies by the toll booths, staring in our direction.
We jumped when we heard a tap on the side window. Soames stood next to the RV with a pained expression. I slid open the side door to hear what he had to say.
“We could go back to the marina and cross the river by boat,” he said.
We all looked quizzically at Soames and then each other.
“There will be loads of moored boats at Harsimus Cove just a few blocks from here. We can take one of the boats and cross the Hudson, that way we won’t have to fight our way through Manhattan.” Soames waited for a reply.
“Kind of makes sense,” Rosenberg said.
“Well, I for one as sure as shit don’t know nothing about sailing boats,” Eazy snorted. “Since when did you become an admiral?”
“I used to sail at the Cove some time ago but we don’t have to sail, we can take a speed boat or something and meet up with Wilde’s ship at sea.”
“Whatever we’re going to do, can we please make a decision quickly?” Julia pleaded. She pointed to the Holland Tunnel entrance where the zombies grew in number and no longer curious, they lurched toward us with hungry intent.
“I’m with Soames on this one,” I said. “I’m all for going by boat.” I felt so tired and just wanted to get to our destination as quickly as possible. The tunnel would take a while to cross on foot and the thought of battling millions of hungry zombies down through Manhattan was terrifying.
“Yeah, me too,” R
osenberg agreed.
“Okay, I’ll come as well,” Julia said, nervously looking up and down the roads around us.
“I don’t want to be the one to shit in your beer but crossing by boat sounds like a big fucking risk to me,” Smith interjected. “Say you get to the marina and say you find a suitable boat gassed up and ready to go. What are you going to do if you can’t find Pop Wilde’s ship? We haven’t had any contact in days and you’re going to be out there in the middle of the Hudson with your asses hanging out, no cover, no destination,” he continued. “If we go by foot across the tunnel we can take a vehicle the other side, maybe hole up for a bit if things get heavy and move from building to building.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that one, Smith,” Eazy agreed.
“I hate boats anyway,” Batfish chipped in. “I get seasick on a boating lake.”
“Our destination is a yacht for Christ sake, Batfish,” I sighed. “You’ll have to go on the water at some point.”
“I feel okay on big ships,” she countered. “I get sick on stupid little boats.”
“Ships, boats, yachts, what’s the difference, man?” Eazy seemed confused.
“So you want to split up after all we’ve been through?” I hissed. “I thought we’d all stick together, no matter what.” I felt let down by the others wanting to go separate ways. I’d only known them a few days, a week at the most. It was hard to gauge a timeline when this shitty situation started. “We can’t just split. We may never see each other again.” I felt an overwhelming sense a short era was coming to an end.
“Ah, Wilde man, stop it, you’re going to have me in tears in a minute,” Smith mocked, flapping his hand in my direction.
“Who’s going to take the dog?” Rosenberg asked, pointing at Spot who stood in the cab doorway wagging his tail like he was pleased to be the center of attention.
I’d briefly forgotten about Spot, the poor little fellow. He’d become a kind of mascot for us. The decision of his crossroads was made for us.
“The dog better go on foot with the others,” Soames declared. “We’ll never retrieve him if he decides to jump overboard out on the river.”
I reluctantly agreed and tried one last time to change Smith, Eazy and Batfish’s minds. “Can’t we all just go to the marina and have a look?”
“This ‘aint no sightseeing trip, kiddo,” Smith sort of laughed as he spoke. “You’re breaking my heart here, Wilde man but we aint going on a boat. Period.”
“Whatever we’re going to do can we please do it quickly or we won’t be going anywhere,” Julia pleaded. She looked through the side window and pointed at the gathering mass of approaching dead.
“We can take my car down to the marina,” Soames said. “It’ll be quicker than taking this van.”
“Okay, we’ll leave the RV here with the keys on top of the driver’s side wheel,” Eazy suggested. “If the shit hits the fan, we meet back here and take another route around.”
We agreed and hurriedly packed our meager belongings. Smith opened the duffel bag of money and checked his hand guns.
Smith put his hand on my shoulder. “Keep an eye out for us on the shore if you get to your dad’s ship first, okay?” Smith said quietly. “Give us a few hours from now and we’ll be there, I promise.” I was surprised at Smith’s sincerity and had to hold back some tears. I nodded and slapped him on the back.
We loaded our gear into the back of Soames’ car as Eazy locked the RV and placed the keys on top of the driver’s wheel. We quickly hugged and shook hands and vowed to meet up again in a few hours. I wasn’t sure how we were going to gauge the time limit as none of us had a watch. I sniffed back the tears and tried to hide my emotions. I felt like this was goodbye forever. I’d got used to the others and grown fond of them, like members of an extended family. I ruffled Spot’s head and kissed him on the nose as he peered from the top of Batfish’s back pack.
“Come on, we better make a move,” Julia whispered. Around twenty zombies moved closer, approximately fifteen yards from us.
“Let’s roll,” Eazy said, tightening his back pack straps. “You got the guns, Smith?”
Smith nodded and handed Eazy one of the weapons. Soames held up his small pistol to show that our sea going party was also armed. Smith slipped on a pair of sunshades he’d acquired from the RV and nodded.
“Then I bid you all farewell,” he said and turned towards the tunnel. Batfish and Eazy nodded to us and followed Smith.
I watched them go as I moved towards Soames’ car. I felt Smith and Eazy were the natural leaders in our group and Batfish was a tough cookie too. How would we cope without them? They jogged passed the grasping hands of the zombies, through the motionless traffic to the toll booths and then disappeared from view. I wondered if I’d ever see them again.
The gaggle of gathered zombies slowly began to follow them down the tunnel.
I sat in the back seat next to Julia and Rosenberg rode up front in the passenger seat. Soames started his car and spun around, taking the route we used earlier.
“Are you okay?” Julia whispered, squeezing my thigh.
I looked deeply into her blue eyes and felt like crying. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. I hugged back and smelled the pleasant scent of her hair. I felt crushed and abandoned. Christ, was I having some sort of breakdown? For better or worse, Smith had been with me all through this mess and I’d grown to depend on him to come up with a plan or get us out of the stickiest situations. I sniggered to myself thinking about our introduction when my face had met his fist.
“What are you giggling at?” Julia asked, releasing me from her embrace and stroking my face with her fingers.
I recounted the whole story of how I’d met Smith in Pete and Marlon’s apartment back in Brynston. Rosenberg turned in his seat and listened intently to the story.
“I thought you two guys were like old buddies or something.”
“No, I don’t even know his real name.”
“You mean it’s not Smith?”
“No, it’s Franco…something, he never told me.”
“The man certainly has many talents,” Soames chipped in sarcastically.
While wallowing in self pity, I’d sort of forgotten Soames was with us even though he was driving. And he was driving far too fast for my liking. He sped along the main Boulevard dodging in and out of the stationary vehicles. We sped past the shopping mall on our left and a high school on our right. The parking lots for both premises were cluttered with crowds of the dead, wandering aimlessly in different directions.
“Soames, I don’t mean to be rude but can we slow the fuck down a bit, please?” I said. Julia and I nervously put on our seat belts.
“I just want to get to the marina,” he spat. “It was a stupid idea coming into Jersey City in the first place.”
Before I could reply, Soames took a left with the Lexus’ tires screeching in the sudden turn. He tried to right the turn and over steered. The car swiveled left and right, Julia screamed and Rosenberg grabbed hold of the dash. We came to a stop when the car smashed into the back of a red Buick in the middle of the left hand lane. The front of the Lexus crumpled and the airbags in the front seats activated, blinding Soames and Rosenberg’s vision of the road. Julia and I were flung forward, luckily restrained by the seat belts.
“Jesus Christ, Soames. What the fuck are you doing?” I roared.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Soames screeched, slapping at the airbag in front of his face.
“Come on, we’ll have to get to the marina on foot,” Rosenberg said. “How far is it?”
“Just around the next fucking block,” Soames snapped, pushing at the airbag.
We clambered out of the wrecked Lexus. Steam billowed from the crippled engine that only served as a kind of smoke signal to the hungry dead who were still in plain sight, wandering around the parking lots of the shopping malls on either side of the street. We hurriedly grabbed our gear out of the trunk and followed Soames as
he headed east at a brisk pace. We could hardly have picked a worse place to become immobile, right in the middle of the busiest place in the city.
I looked around and saw our presence had been noticed as crowds of zombies began to meander in our direction from all sides.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Come on, we can easily out run them,” Soames yelled. His voice was too loud and attracted even more unwanted attention. The dead herded around us on both sides of the street but we still had a fairly clear run ahead.
I wished I’d followed Smith, Eazy and Batfish through the tunnel. We were now in the same predicament by traveling on foot. Soames was quickly becoming a liability but he was the only one who knew where the hell we were going. We ran next to a sparse tree line that acted as a center barrier for the opposite traffic lanes. Julia held her shoulder and started to lag slightly. I waited and held her free hand so I could pull her gently along. She was probably suffering from whiplash after the car crash but we didn’t have time to stop for any treatment. The medical men could sort her out if and when we got out onto the river.
Most of my adolescent and adult life had been spent boozing and smoking or sitting at a call center desk eating donuts and candy. Miraculously, I wasn’t overweight but all those years of a sedentary job and abusing my body were now taking a toll. I huffed in gulps of air and felt my lungs burn. My legs were steadily losing momentum and I had to fight the urge to stop running and walk at a slow pace.
Soames and Rosenberg were gradually pulling ahead of us. I didn’t know how far the fucking marina was but I knew Julia and I would soon be in deep shit if we had to carry on much further. The zombies stumbled onto the sides of the street and swarmed in a cone shape, forming a bottle neck as far as I could see.
We ran between two high rise hotels on either side of the street and Rosenberg followed Soames on a left turn, thirty yards ahead of us.
The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers Page 26
