The cold air against his face helped him to focus. And focus was what he needed. He had chosen not to be a part of any planning and now found himself at the mercy of plans made by others.
Apparently much of the discussion while Neil slept was introduced by Jess. She suggested that perhaps they should use William’s boat, while they were still able given the approaching weather, to explore other areas away from Shotgun Cove. She reasoned that maybe there were still people elsewhere and the boat made it much easier to get into and out of places.
Everyone knew Jess’ ultimate reason for the suggestion. Her daughter, she believed, was still out there somewhere. If she could convince them to take to the water, then maybe she could get closer to finding her daughter. When pressed by the others for her true intention, Jess was unabashedly honest. She fully admitted to wanting to eventually use the boat to find Syd. For now, however, she attested that it was simple practicality.
Surprisingly, both Emma and William agreed with Jess. William did so because he was more comfortable on the water than on land. He felt that perhaps it was in this way that he could contribute. He could lead them to fish or steer them to... anywhere the tide cared to carry them.
Emma agreed based upon much deeper, resonating sentiments and emotions. She was tired of running. She was through with the fear and the doubt. They could be much more aggressive from the water and reach further. From the water, maybe they could start striking back. They might stand a chance of reclaiming some of what had been lost. There was a not too subtle growl lurking behind all of what she had said and all of them could sense it.
Danielle, needing a supply of insulin in order to avoid all the complications up to and including death, reluctantly agreed as well. Danielle had absolutely no interest in venturing back into the hell the world had become despite her own pressing need. Her own limited experiences in the land of the dead had convinced her she needn’t frequent those festering neighborhoods ever again. Danielle was also a realist and knew that she above all the others would need supplies that could only be gathered from the former places of men, and she was unwilling to lay that burden on others’ shoulders. She could and would do her part given her need.
Neil could think of a thousand reasons why he wouldn’t have chosen to leave William’s well-stocked, warm, dry, and isolated lodge. Before he could offer any protest, however, Neil listened to a quiet voice in his head, which suggested that he should listen to others’ ideas. The voice was accompanied by a somber parade of faces of those who had died as a result of Neil’s ideas. The sorrowful procession of memories ended poignantly with Meghan’s empty death smile looking up at him as he placed the last stone over her body.
At that moment, Neil decided he would just release control and go with the flow. Using the time to his own personal advantage, he retreated to an upstairs bathroom to shower. Everyone noted his silent departure from the table as the discussion went on.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt anything so glorious. The hot water was as scintillating a sensation as he had experienced in his entire life. It was as if every nerve in his body was stimulated simultaneously. The first burst of hot water took away his breath and his vision went dark for a moment. And in that darkness, all of the pleasure of the moment faded into the building guilt he was feeling for his joy.
His stomach turned over on itself and his shoulders felt like he had traded places with Atlas. He spent several stunned minutes letting the water spray against his face and trail down his body.
He was no more animated than a zombie as he stood there and would likely have stayed that way for much longer had Jerry not interrupted him.
“Everything okay, Neil?”
Jogged from his stupor and realizing the water was cooling precipitously, Neil turned off the tap and looked out from behind the flowery yellow shower curtain.
“Emma made me come ask about you,” Jerry said.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, if not completely at peace, Neil nodded and caught the towel Jerry threw to him. “I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute. What’s the plan?”
Closing the door and talking to Neil through it, Jerry answered, “As soon as you’re ready to go I think we are going to go into Whittier Harbor. Emma thought that maybe we could go check out the cruise ship for supplies. Kind of like a test. We figure that most of the people on board probably were in Whittier when all hell broke loose. There might even be people still alive on the ship. It has food and its own power source. We might just luck out and find some help.”
Neil’s first instinct was to point out why he thought it was a bad idea, but he stifled it and said, “Good. Who’s going?”
Chapter 60
Neil walked back into the cabin, his thoughts more clear, and assessed his companions. William was at the helm, which resembled a combination of an aircraft’s cockpit and an automobile’s driver seat. There were dials aplenty, knobs, buttons, a silent radio, a beeping depth finder, and a steering wheel.
Sitting near to William’s partially partitioned perch, Jess was poring over some of the nautical maps now at her disposal. Her eyes were focused and her forehead was furrowed in concentration as she ran her finger over the contours of the charts. She quietly asked William a question, and he pointed to something in the distance as an answer.
Emma was cleaning one of her pistols and had parts scattered in front of her on a white hand towel. She used a fine brush to wipe away dirt particles and bits of unwanted grease. Her pistols and the assault rifle leaning next to her had become absolute necessities to her survival, so she spent the time required whenever it was allotted to her to care for her firearms.
She smiled at Neil when he walked over to them, leaning into the cabin’s wall to steady himself against the rough current. He sat down next to his friend at the table. “It’s still cold outside...if you were wondering.”
Emma feigned disappointment. “Damn. William, you said you were taking us to Hawaii. Neil says that it’s still cold outside. What the hell?”
“We’re coming into the harbor now,” William said. “You should probably put your pistol back together. You may need it.”
The city of Whittier gradually came into view on their left. Whittier was no longer dormant. Even from this distance, they could all see that there was more movement in the diminutive community. Whittier looked to be infested with hundreds of the agitated demons wandering the streets. Something had stirred up this undead hornets’ nest. Neil suspected that their foray into Whittier a few days earlier may be to blame. Regardless,
Their destination, the cruise ship anchored in the deeper water offshore, awaited them to their front. Though not as large as its more robust cousins that traveled the world’s sea-lanes, this particular model was still impressive given its proximity to the much smaller craft anchored in the harbor.
As they approached the bigger ship, everyone’s anxiety rose. Doubt crept into William’s, Jess’, and Emma’s otherwise steadfast resolve. Using a pair of binoculars given to him by William, Neil scanned the ship’s deck but didn’t see anything. There was no movement, not even a breeze-stirred windsock or flag fluttered. He would have been more satisfied had he seen the ship was crewed by the undead. At least he would have known what to expect. He swallowed his doubt and worry, trying to trust his friends’ judgment despite his misgivings.
William slowed Serenity to a crawl and pulled alongside a retractable gangway that still reached down to the waterline. Trying to retain a business as usual facade in his actions, William exited Serenity’s cabin and tied her to the gangway. Emma followed William onto the deck and kept watch. Nothing was moving about on the ship, but they all knew better than to assume the ship would be clear of zombies.
Neil and Jess joined Emma and William on the Serenity’s deck where they shared a final quiet moment.
“No one is ever alone,” Neil said. “We don’t carry any more than we can handle and still move easily. Staying alive is a hell of a lot more important
than anything we might be able to grab. We’re not here to clear out the ship. We’re just here to look around and see if it’s even possible. If it looks like it’s too hairy, we get outta Dodge quick. Understood?”
Everyone nodded. Jess and Emma were relieved to hear Neil shift back into his leadership role. Things tended to go better when he was in charge.
They climbed up the slick gangway slowly, feeling watched the entire time.
Chapter 61
Carter was standing in the Inn at Whittier’s dining room staring out at the harbor when something exceptional drew his attention. He could have sworn that he saw people...real live people, running onto the derelict cruise ship. There were at least five of them and they were armed. They’d have to be to consider going onto that ship.
They were out of sight before Carter could grab a pair of binoculars. That was okay. They’d have to come back the way they entered. That was, of course, if they came back at all. Carter couldn’t think of any good reasons to go down that path, and yet there they went.
He was temporarily distracted from his viewing by the sound of shouting coming from the front of the Inn. He would have to return to his vigil later. Hopefully, the party of strangers wouldn’t be on their way before he was able to return. He entertained the thought of ignoring the shouts but thought better of it when they grew louder and more insistent.
“Goddamnit,” Carter snarled, stepping away from the window.
The Colonel was already standing in the lobby, his round face glowing red as he struggled to regain his breath. Seeing the Colonel walking around, Carter was reminded of just how large of a man he was. Colonel Bear was a mountain unto himself. He stood at well over six feet and his frame carried the girth of more than two average-sized adults. He was physically massive and cast a formidable shadow.
“They’re comin at us!” the monstrous man roared. “I need you and your men to throw them back into the night!”
Carter enjoyed it when the Colonel spoke so dramatically. It reminded Carter of times he had never known but had only experienced in movies, books, and stories the Colonel told him. He remembered the Colonel telling him of a great warrior orator named Pericles. When the Colonel spoke the way he just had, Carter was reminded of Pericles.
Feeling a surge of confidence and faith in his leader, Carter said to the Colonel, “I think I may have just found you some good news.”
“Good,” the Colonel said more calmly. “Then get this done and come back and tell me.”
Carter saluted and stomped away like a Titan.
“Not one gets through!” he shouted. “Any man who doesn’t do his job had better just hope he gets taken down by a skin because that’ll be better than what I’ll give ya!”
A small group of the creatures was coming at them from down toward the ferry depot. They looked like tourists from hell with their choice of clothing and odds and ends still attached to belts and hooked around arms. They must have died clutching those meager possessions as if they would somehow protect them from the inevitable. Now they were doomed to walk eternity encumbered with the useless junk. Carter was more than willing to help them out of that hassle.
The snow had stopped, leaving the ground slippery in spots. Most of the accumulated snow had gathered where it had been blown against the sides of buildings or vehicle tires. The wind was sharper, cutting through Carter’s black jacket and chilling his bones.
“We take out these few first and then deal with the next group,” Carter instructed. “Save your ammo. We may need it.”
His wooden bat still sporting the crusty gore and tissue from his last encounter, Carter twirled the weapon around as if warming up for his turn in softball. The sharpened wedges of steel driven into the business end of the bat belied its actual purpose.
The eight people following behind him were similarly armed, some carrying axes, others modified and sharpened shovels, and still others handcrafted spears and pikes. They were the citizen levee marching off to battle under the banner of some medieval lord.
Into battle they charged, Carter leading them all the way. He ran toward the group, swinging his bat left and right. Carter looked to his left and saw that Mason, armed with a pike, was there with him. “This is gonna be great kid!!” he shouted. “Look at ‘em go down. Hahahahahaha!”
Mason wasn’t sure which worried him more, the zombies or Carter’s insanity, for Carter’s eyes were those of a madman. Pretending that he was simply doing an unpleasant chore, Mason jabbed the sharpened end of his very long spear into the eye socket of one of the ghouls and quickly retracted it before the creature fell. He stepped to the left to ensure that none of the things were able to get around their flank and behind them. He thrust the spear tip into the mouth of another monster, driving the sharpened point through the back of its skull. Again he pulled the pike clear. If he didn’t think about what he was doing, he could get through it. He just kept telling himself that they weren’t people he was killing.
Mason jabbed his spear into yet another one, but it jerked unexpectedly. Unfortunately, the pike pierced through the beast’s throat and only impaled it, doing no real damage. Sensing Mason nearby, the zombie turned its whole body, the wound on its throat stretching into a widening hole.
Mason’s stomach rolled over onto itself as his fear gripped him. He closed his eyes, fearing the worst, until he heard a bone-crunching thwack in front of him. Opening his eyes, he saw Carter’s bat being removed from the zombie’s crushed skull. Carter smiled his lunatic’s smile and moved on to his next victim.
The street was filling up with bodies when a second group came on the heels of the first. The second group was only about ten deep but everyone’s arms were starting to feel heavy with fatigue. Carter too noticed his swings lacking their normal vigor. For him though, the realization only fueled his anger.
With renewed vengeance, Carter lit into the new arrivals. His swings shattered jaws, smashed limbs, and obliterated skulls. Carter’s black jacket was coated with the foul, jellied inner fluids from his foes. His hair was damp and dense with a mixture of his sweat and the same foulness on the rest of him. He heaved his air in hungry lungfuls, almost choking. He bent at the waist and rested his hands on his knees.
Still breathing deeply, Carter said, “Ok-ay. We can...we can head back…now. Woooh! I guess I’m not used...to working...so hard.”
With Carter again leading them, the group retreated back to the lane in front of the Inn where another confrontation had played out. There were a couple of dead skins and a dying militia woman. She was lying in a pool of her own blood on the sidewalk. She had apparently been surprised by one of the creatures, which had wandered up from out of the darkness along with its buddy. One had latched onto her throat, ripping open her carotid artery, while the other one had bitten into her wrist and upper arm. Her skin, already pale from the lack of sunlight for this season, resembled the color and even consistency of watered-down milk.
Gazing down at her for just a second, Carter looked away when she opened her eyes. She would likely be looking for sympathy from him and he had none. He found it almost impossible to find any real connection to others, regardless of the circumstances. Some considered it a character flaw; he had always thought of it as liberating. The thing about it was that it wasn’t just other people he didn’t care about. He really didn’t care much for himself either, but he rarely thought about that.
Finding Earl in the crowd standing around the two other bodies, Carter motioned to the woman and ordered, “Deal with that. Will ya?”
The big, uni-browed thug of a man scrunched his equally big forehead and asked, “Deal with?”
Carter rolled his eyes and curled his lip into an irritated snarl as he stormed back into the hotel. He was looking for the Colonel and suspected where he would find him. Carter walked to his left straight into the dining room.
The Colonel sat at a long table with Kit sitting at the opposite end. Both had plates of food and glasses of wine in front of them
. The Colonel was enjoying his meal, shoveling forkful after forkful of food into his mouth and washing it down with long drinks from his wine glass, looking very pleased with himself.
His brain still surging with adrenaline, Carter bit back the urge to growl at the Colonel, sitting comfortably and enjoying a meal prepared and served to him on clean dishes while Carter was out removing threats to the Colonel’s plans. Carter forced himself to swallow the acidic bile of resentment that rose to the back of his throat.
When the Colonel motioned to an empty seat with an empty plate sitting at it, Carter sat, but refused to look at the other man or at Kit. She appeared nervous and jittery at the opposite end of the table. She ate quietly, what little she did eat, but drank greedily from her wine glass, emptying it twice in quick succession. Keeping her head down, Kit did chance quick glances with her eyes at the two men but quickly looked away if either caught her stare.
The Colonel finally said pleasantly, “Dear. Will you please give us men some time to discuss plans? I’m sure this wouldn’t interest you in the least. I will see you in a little while though.”
Kit swallowed her most recent bite and dumped the contents of her glass into her mouth, hurriedly stood, and skittered away from the table. She left the room and Colonel Bear returned his attention to Carter.
“Hungry?” asked the Colonel.
“Not so much really.”
“Thirsty?”
With his serpent’s grin in full flourish, Carter answered, “Depends on what’s to drink.”
The Colonel picked a string of meat from his front teeth. “As luck would have it,” he said, “I think I have what you want.” He produced a bottle filled with fiery, brown liquid. “Don’t know if this is your brand, but I thought it would do.”
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 34
