by W. J. Lundy
They quickly pulled the boat in and Nelson tied it off. Brad ordered Joey and Parker to keep their eyes on the water while he moved toward the ladder with Gunner. They climbed down to the lower deck, joining Sean and the others just as the older Marine was being helped aboard.
The Marine looked at all of them and then laughed again. “Hell, you all are Americans. What are you doing on this Canuk boat?” he asked.
Gunner stepped forward. “It’s a long story. So, what’s with you? Are the Marines in charge here?” Gunner asked, pointing to the globe and anchor on the man’s hat.
“Shit… I wish; bunch of state troopers and damn park rangers run the fort. I’m Gunnery Sergeant Cordell, that’s Corporal Rodrigo on the boat, and Seaman Anderson with him. We let the park rangers think they are in charge, but we’re the ones holding this place together. Unfortunately, me, Rodrigo, and Anderson here make up nearly fifty percent of the service members at the fort,” Cordell said, pointing to his two men still in the boat, “and I have a few more men up on guard duty.”
Cordell paused and looked around the deck of the boat. “So… I showed you mine, now who are you?”
Gunner made introductions and gave the man a vague story of who they were and how they got there. He told him they were gathering information about survivors in the region and looking to move inland using the rivers.
“Hell, brother, why would you want to go out there? Most folks die trying to get here,” Cordell said.
Sean moved in and pointed toward the main land. “You mean there is nothing else out there?”
Cordell scratched at his chin and turned so that he was looking at the far beach. “I heard there are some small pockets. Some National Guard guys holding up here and there. A state trooper barracks up north someplace is apparently doing well. There are some others buttoned up in an old cement quarry. But seriously, folks, even if you got to guys like that, they ain’t looking to leave, or even share what they got. And hell, don’t even get me started on the bandits and killers taking advantage of things.
“Now if you really are looking to travel up the river, we might be able to help you with that, but it won’t be cheap. We make runs up the river a couple times a week and sometimes they find people looking to travel here, but it has gotten less frequent.”
“You go over there?” Sean asked, pointing to the mainland.
“Nah… hell, no. We got guys that go for us; they travel in barges up the rivers. They clean out old warehouses and whatnot, bring the supplies back to us for trade. It’s the new enterprise; folks pay them for passage, and we charge the boats to dock here and allow them to sell their goods to folks in the camp. You know,” Cordell paused, scratching his chin, “come to speak of it, one of the boats came in yesterday afternoon and brought in a few stragglers. Would you be interested in speaking with them?”
Gunner looked to Meyers who nodded back. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Could we see the captain of the boat that brought them in? We may have some business for him,” Gunner said.
Cordell nodded his head. “Well, no time like the present,” Cordell said, moving back to the rail and climbing aboard the smaller boat.
Gunner slapped Meyers’ back. “You ever been to the States before?”
Meyers laughed in response then turned around, pointing at Howard. “Doc, you’re up. Sergeant Thompson, is it?” he said, looking at Brad.
Brad stumbled, not expecting to be called on. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Good. Doctor Howard, Sergeant Thompson is your bodyguard; do whatever he says. Stay by his side.”
Gunner walked across the deck toward the rail. He stopped and spoke to Sean, “If we find what we’re looking for, we’ll be wanting to leave right away. Think you can keep this thing floating while we go ashore for a visit?”
“Only one way to find out,” Sean said.
“Good. Alright, Gunny, we’re ready.”
CHAPTER 15
They left through the front door and worked their way back to the road. With the warmth of the day and walking into the wind, he was certain they could travel safely from the infected during the daylight hours. Even though confident, Shane had set a quick pace. The girl moved along playfully, pretending she was leading the way. Sometimes she would walk far ahead of him, stop in the road waiting for him to pass, and then she would run back up the road, giggling. Shane cautioned her not to get too far ahead, but she would just look back at him and smile. The large breakfast and sugary drinks had done wonders to raise her spirits.
The terrain was open here, with tall fields of grass standing on either side of the road. Beyond that, varying from twenty to sometimes ten feet, were tall, dark forests. Occasionally, they would pass a burnt home or a nearly destroyed house with broken windows. Shane would slow the girl and walk beside her until they cleared those danger areas. Habitable or not, houses were far and few between, so he hoped the infected population would be just as sparse. As they walked, he would often drift to the gravel shoulders of the road and check for tracks, bent blades of grass, or other signs of movement from the infected. He was always alert and kept a close eye on the girl, but he still allowed her to play her games.
Walking—or more closely resembling a skip—she stayed just feet ahead of him. He watched her suddenly stop. She froze in place then backed toward him and when she turned, he saw fear in her eyes. Shane hastened his steps and moved in beside her. He squatted down, and she pulled herself into his left arm.
“What did you see?” he whispered to her. Ella’s hand dropped to his pant leg and she gripped the fabric. Her left hand rose and she pointed a finger at a far off bush.
Shane had grown to trust the girl’s instincts over the past several days and raised his rifle in the direction she pointed as a voice called out, “Whoa, didn’t mean to startle ya. You can relax there, soldier boy, no need for none of that.”
A man’s hands rose from the bush, followed by arms and a long, lanky body dressed in a hunter’s camouflage pants and dark flannel shirt. His hair was unkempt, his chin a matted attempt at growing a beard. When he smiled, it revealed a mouth of blackened, broken teeth. The man, hands now raised over his head, continued stepping toward the road, speaking as he moved. “You ain’t gots be ah’scared of me, nah, I’m nuttin’ to worry ’bout.”
Shane intensely observed the strange man as he approached, keeping the rifle aimed center mass. Ella crouched and pushed into him tightly. Shane was about to speak when he heard another voice from behind. “Now, I’s the one you should be worried about,” the voice called out.
Shane went to turn to look behind him when he heard the hammer of a firearm lock back. “Oh no, boy, you just stay right there. Damn, look at ya! You a big feller, ain’t ‘cha soldier?” he heard the new voice call out.
Shane froze, looking ahead as the first man continued walking toward him. “Stop where you are!” Shane yelled.
The first broken-toothed man stopped, but lowered his arms. “Now, I told ya, you ain’t got nothing to worry about,” the toothy man said, giggling as he lowered his hand to caress the handle of a large Bowie knife on his belt.
Shane lifted the rifle and tucked it tight into his shoulder. “Take another step, mister, and I will shoot you dead,” he snarled, slowly rising to his feet. As he stood, Ella stayed with him, hugging his leg.
Shane could hear the man behind him move closer as his feet stepped onto the gravel behind him. Shane stepped right, to the center of the road, pivoting so he could see the second man. Short and fat with a stocking cap pulled down over his brow, he was carrying a short-barreled single shot shotgun with the hammer back. Shane kept his rifle in his shoulder and aimed at the toothy man in front while looking from the corner of his eye at the fat one behind and to the left.
“You stop or I’ll kill your friend. I’m not giving you another warning,” Shane called out.
The fat man stopped moving and squared up. Keeping the barrel in Shane’s direction, the toothy man rais
ed his right hand and showed a palm to his partner, signaling for him to stop.
“Now, is that any way for you to be talking to strangers? You’s up on our land, walking our road, and you threatening to kill me?” the toothy man said, barely concealing a chuckle.
“What do you want?” Shane asked.
“We just looking to see what you got, you know, in exchange for traveling our road,” the toothy man said.
Shane stepped again so that he could now completely see the fat man while still keeping the rifle on the first one. Ella followed him, holding his pant leg but not hindering his movement. “I don’t have anything for you, now step aside and let us pass.”
The toothy man let out another manic chuckle. “Ah hell, we’ll take the girl then,” he said as the fat man giggled.
Shane didn’t reply, but he kept the rifle up. He could feel Ella’s arms trembling. His finger caressed the trigger, he couldn’t take the shot. The man behind him would be able to fire before he could turn and get a second round off.
“Now, why don’t you be a good soldier boy and hand us that rifle whiles we talk about this,” the first man said.
Shane saw the fat man begin to step. “I said don’t move!” Shane yelled. He held the rifle tight on the toothy man, planted his feet, and prepared for a fight.
“Come on now, hand over yer rifle. If we wanted you dead, Earl woulda already kilt ya,” Toothy said, causing the fat man to giggle again.
Shane knew the only reason the man hadn’t shot was because he was worried about hitting Ella. That or the gun wasn’t loaded. He could tell by their looks that they weren’t hospitable to travelers. Shane knew if he fired on Toothy, Fat Boy would get off a shot that would no doubt hit him—and possibly Ella—from the distance they were standing apart.
“Come on now, we ain’t asking again. Toss me the damn rifle, boy. You do it now and we’ll let ya go,” Toothy now yelled, losing his temper.
Shane relaxed his grip on the rifle. Focusing, he could feel the pressure near his belt where he’d placed the Walther pistol. He took a deep breath and squeezed the forward grip of the rifle with his left hand and slowly he lifted his right hand from the butt stock as he released the pistol grip.
“Okay, I’ll toss the rifle if you promise you won’t hurt us,” Shane said, causing both men to giggle frantically.
Shane pulled the rifle out, holding it in one hand. Instead of tossing it to Toothy, he turned and threw it underhand to Fat Boy. The fat man smiled as the rifle sailed through the air. Assuming his victim was now unarmed, Fat Boy took his eyes off of Shane for just a split second. It was all Shane needed to use his right hand that was concealed from the Fat Boy’s view. He reached under his jacket and pulled the pistol. Fat Boy saw Shane’s quick movement, but by the time he recognized the handgun, it was too late for him to bring the shotgun back on target.
Shane drew the pistol and rotated. As he fully extended his arm he pulled the trigger twice; hitting Fat Boy in the right shoulder and face. Toothy yelped a high pitch scream and Shane swung his arm back in Toothy’s direction. The man hadn’t moved.
“Why’d you do that?” the man cried.
Shane ignored Toothy’s question. As he slowly walked to Fat Boy, he kept the pistol aimed at Toothy. When he reached the body, he kicked the shotgun from its grip, reached down, and retrieved his own rifle. As he lifted it, Toothy lunged for him. Shane didn’t hesitate and fired a single round, hitting the man low in the stomach. Toothy doubled over and let out a loud wail as he dropped to the ground and rolled into the fetal position.
“Why’d you do that?” the man howled again.
Shane slung his rifle and reached back for the shotgun. He opened the breach and saw it was loaded with a buckshot round. Shane removed the shell and tossed it to the street, then kept hold of the weapon. Keeping the pistol on Toothy, he searched Fat Boy’s pockets and found more 12 gauge shells and a set of keys.
“Where is your vehicle?” Shane asked.
“What? We ain’t got no car,” Toothy whined.
Shane walked closer to the wounded man while dangling the keys in his hand. “Looks like you’re gut shot. Unless you get some help quick you’re gonna die very…”
Interrupted by the moans of the infected, Shane stopped and looked behind him. “Sounds like the gunfire woke them early.”
“Okay, okay, if’in I tell ya, you’ll take me with you?” Toothy pleaded.
Shane didn’t answer but stepped closer. “Where’s your vehicle?”
“Come on now, you can’t leave me out here.”
Another set of moans, this time closer, sounded in the distance. Shane could hear snapping trees as they moved from their hiding places deep in the woods.
“I’m leaving you here, but you have a choice, you can tell me where your vehicle is and I’ll give you the shotgun. If you don’t want to talk, then I really need to get going before your neighbors arrive.”
The man lay on the ground wailing. Shane shook his head and stepped off at a quick pace with Ella holding his belt.
“Okay, okay,” the man called out. “The truck’s just over there, backed into that brush.”
Shane stared into the area Toothy had indicated; he could just make out the metallic blue of a front fender.
“Alright,” Shane said as he lifted the shotgun by the barrel and tossed it off to the side of the road. “There you are, go get it.”
The man begged and pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Shane lifted Ella and jogged in the direction of the truck. The moans sounded like they were right on top of them by the time he reached the cab. Shane threw the door open and tossed Ella onto the bench seat. He stripped off his pack and threw it in beside her as he jumped into the truck, then closed and locked the door.
As Shane struggled to start the engine, he could see Toothy crawling across the pavement searching for the shotgun round. A loud bang jolted the truck forward. Looking in the rear view mirror, Shane could see one of the infected collide with the side of the vehicle. He turned the key, pumped the pedal, and the engine roared to life. He heard a scream, followed by a shotgun blast, over the sound of the vehicle and looked to the road just as the man was swarmed by infected. He pulled the gear lever, dropped the truck into drive, and floored the pedal. The bed bounced as the truck fought for traction, throwing dirt and gravel as it crawled to the shoulder, then squealed when the rubber grabbed pavement.
Shane raced forward, hitting several of the infected things. He cut the wheel hard and fishtailed into a slide as the truck’s tires gripped the road. He straightened out and saw that several of them had made it to the bed of the truck. Shane accelerated until he felt the steering wheel vibrate in his hands. “Ella, get on the floor,” he yelled and watched as the girl obeyed and dropped to the floor. She held her hands over her ears, trying to block out the infected screams.
Shane hit the brakes hard and turned the wheel to the left just enough to put the truck into a controlled skid and eject most of infected from the vehicle. He hit the gas pedal again and raced forward—all but one had been thrown clear. In his side mirror, he could see their broken and twisted bodies on the road struggling to get up. The remaining creature was still lying stunned in the back of the truck against the tailgate and trying to sit up; its arm looked broken. Shane hit the brakes again, causing the thing to fly forward and slam against the cab of the truck. He locked the vehicle into park and then stepped out onto the road. He pulled the pistol and methodically put two rounds in the thing’s head, dropped the tailgate, and dumped the creature to the ground.
Shane walked away from the body and leaned against the tailgate, letting his heartbeat return to normal. As he stood there listening, he could hear the sounds of the engine gurgling a loud idle. He cautiously returned to the cab and closed the door behind him. He swallowed hard and looked down at Ella on the floor. “You can come up now,” he said.
Shane watched as the girl climbed up onto the bench seat without emotion. She looked aroun
d the cab of the truck and buckled her seat belt. Shane grinned, then put the truck back into gear and started forward, now at a modest speed. He looked at the gas gauge and saw that he barely had a quarter of a tank of fuel. It wouldn’t get him far, but he could at least find shelter before it ran out.
CHAPTER 16
The small shore team was led down a long dock where an assortment of boats were crowded in and tied off to both sides. Farther out, a larger flotilla of watercraft were anchored and tied together. Cordell noticed Brad looking at the cluster of boats and stopped.
“Salvagers mostly; some fisherman, hard types, but we put up with them because they bring in the supplies,” he explained.
Gunner moved up next to Brad and stared at the ships, large flat-bottomed riverboats, and fishing trawlers. “If they are bringing in all of the supplies, then why do they need you?”
Cordell laughed. “Don’t say that too loud, I don’t think they have figured it out yet.”
“So, what do you trade them, you know, in exchange for their goods?” Brad asked.
Cordell looked down, then away from Brad. “It doesn’t work like that. The people living here… they make the trades. And, well, the rangers charge them a tax of sorts to stay at the fort. Most are required to pay in supplies, food, and fresh water in exchange to live inside the walls. Others provide services like security or maintenance.”
Brad grabbed Cordell’s jacket as he turned to walk away. “You charge the survivors a tax? And how in the hell do they have anything left to trade with them?” he said pointing to the clustered ships.
Cordell pulled away and answered over his shoulder as he walked on, “They find a way.”
