The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island

by Fletcher, Christian

  I glanced nervously all around me, gripping the unloaded spear gun as my only defense.

  Smith swum low against the reef’s surface and I followed his lead. I didn’t know if it was a purposeful maneuver or whether he was simply keeping a close eye on the contours underneath us. We didn’t want to suddenly find another large gap opening out below with more dangers to contend with.

  A ghostly white face, with wide eyes and snapping jaws suddenly emerged between the long leaves of a sea plant a few feet to my left. I instinctively jerked away to my right, attempting to gain some space between the grasping creature and myself. The seawater slowed my movement and the ghoul reached out with scrawny hands, grabbing at my left arm. I thrashed around, trying to release the firm grip of decaying fingers but only succeeded in rolling onto my back. The undead woman’s face drew near to my facemask as she snapped her jaws in repetitive forward lunges. The remains of a white summer dress billowed around her body and her reddish-brown hair drifted around her head like some kind of weird sea plant.

  My air tank clanked against the reef’s surface while the female zombie pinned me down, scrabbling around on top of me. Air bubbles erupted around us from my intense breathing. I jammed the spear gun lengthways beneath the woman’s chin and pushed her head upwards so the gnashing teeth pointed to the water’s surface.

  I allowed myself a brief glance around me and saw Smith disappearing from view across the reef. He still watched the area above him and hadn’t noticed I’d been ambushed. I was going to have to win this particular battle unaided.

  The undead woman’s hands fumbled dangerously close to my mouthpiece and mask, threatening to tear them both away from my face. I turned and tilted my head backwards, desperately trying to avoid the reach of those gnarled hands ripping away my air supply. I released my right hand from the stock of the spear gun, grabbed hold of the ghoul’s left hand and twisted outwards with all the strength I could muster. I heard an audible crack of bone but a broken wrist wouldn’t stop the relentless zombie attack.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed more of the undead plodding in a kind of doggy paddle through the water, heading across the reef to my position. I knew I was dead if a few of them joined in the scuffle. They’d either eat me or drown me or a combination of both.

  I kept the spear gun jammed hard beneath the woman’s chin with my left hand. Her right hand pinched and pulled at the rubber wetsuit around my left shoulder. The ghoul’s left hand didn’t quite operate as normal due to the broken wrist but the bony fingers, resembling a bunch of rotten bananas, still battered at the front of my facemask.

  I was going to have to get out of this situation and in real quick time.

  I knocked away the woman’s crippled left hand with my right and reached around my torso. The spear holder was still in place strapped to my body. I felt for the back end of one of the metal shafts and pulled out a single spear. I slid my hand halfway down the shaft and tightly gripped the metal rod. I waited a beat, withdrew my left hand holding the gun, stretching my arm out wide. The ghoul’s head lowered and she opened her mouth wide. I aimed the barbed spike at the rotting face and thrust the spear forward in a stabbing motion.

  The spear point burst through the woman’s left eye socket, sending a gush of blood and straw colored liquid rising upward around her head. The body went limp and floated slightly above me.

  Shit! Now the sharks were going to come closer for a good, hard sniff of zombie blood.

  I released my hold of the spear and let the woman drift away slightly in the underwater current. I couldn’t see clearly around me due to the cloud of blood spreading out in thick, curling spirals. The other zombies would be drawing closer through the red mist, along with the sharks.

  I shoved the spear gun into the holder, rolled over onto my front and furiously kicked my legs, propelling myself through the water and slightly above the reef’s surface. I kept glancing behind me, worried I’d see an approaching army of dead hands and razor sharp shark’s teeth about to close in on me. I noticed I’d also lost one of my flippers during the melee with the female zombie but that was the least of my worries.

  Breathing became increasingly difficult. I felt as though I really had to suck hard on the mouthpiece to gain a small amount of air. I glanced at the air tank gauge. The small needle hovered at the lower section of the red zone. The damn thing was all but empty.

  I tried to take fewer breaths, attempting to calm myself and lower my banging heart rate. Smith was still nowhere in sight and either he’d gotten a long way ahead of me or I’d lost him completely.

  The reef continued to slope upwards and I followed the contours of the inclining rock. Small fish quickly darted out of my path and the sunlight became increasing intense, turning the sea into a bright blue hue. I knew I had to be close to the surface. Just a few more yards and I’d be able to pop my head out of the water.

  I tried to inhale again but the mouthpiece only seemed to suck tighter to my gums without yielding any air. I tried again with a similar result. The air tank was empty.

  I spat out the mouthpiece and closed my lips tightly. The urge to take an inward breath was overwhelming. I took a quick glance behind me, knowing that any form of delay underwater meant certain death. No zombies or sharks were close, not any I could see anyhow. I pushed myself away from the reef’s surface and headed straight upward, seeking the daylight and the life saving air above the sea.

  I couldn’t get more than a couple of feet above the reef’s surface, the weight belts and the air tank, spear gun and all the other diving paraphernalia kept me weighted down. I didn’t have time to shed all the gear and I couldn’t stay where I was. In desperation, I kicked and paddled with my arms. I sunk lower onto the reef’s crust again. I scrabbled across the surface like a bizarre crab, virtually convulsing with the need to breathe.

  My lungs ached, my head ached and my vision became slightly blurred. I heard my alternative self speaking inside my head. “Just take one little inward breath. It won’t do you no harm. Fish breathe in the sea, why can’t you?”

  If I could have spoken, I’d have told him to get fucked.

  I briefly wondered if this was what it was like to drown. I’d heard it was supposed to be kind of peaceful and tranquil and humans felt a sense of calm before they died underwater. I felt the total opposite of those sensations. I felt stressed, panicked and on the verge of giving up on life.

  It was useless. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer.

  Chapter Ten

  The sea and sand and silt rushed all around me in a flurrying blur. I tried to cough out water from my lungs but couldn’t exhale. I briefly caught sight of the sunlight but it soon faded and I felt myself sink once again. I tried to breathe again but failed, sucking in more seawater.

  I tried to push against the reef in one last attempt to reach the surface. I couldn’t move my left arm. It was caught against something heavy, maybe a crevice in the rocks. No, it felt like a solid grip around my bicep. Sharks or zombies, take your pick, old friend.

  I felt the sunlight on my face again, tried to breathe but coughed and vomited out a whole bellyful of seawater. My remaining flipper slipped on the seaweed covered rocks and I was down underwater again. My left arm remained firm in the vice like grip that hauled me back upright.

  “What the fuck are you doing, kid?”

  I knew that was Smith talking to me, but was I imagining his voice?

  My legs felt like jelly and I had trouble standing. He hauled me to my feet and I coughed and vomited again. I stood where I was, my senses slowly returning to normal. I inhaled air but felt as though I’d tried to drink the whole of the ocean.

  Smith still held onto me and we stood chest deep in the sea, although our feet touched solid rock beneath. We were positioned around halfway between the warship and the island’s shoreline.

  “You okay?” Smith asked me. His facemask was pulled upward, perched on top of his head.

  “I think so,” I c
roaked. “I got bushwhacked by a zombie down there and then my damn air ran out.”

  “You bit?”

  I shook my head before coughing and retching once again. I pulled my mask off my face and let it dangle under my chin.

  “Okay, kiddo, here’s the deal,” Smith said. “We sure as shit can’t stay put here. Those big sharks won’t get over the shallows in the reef but smaller ones could come in at us at anytime. Plus those dead bastards have a habit of popping up right where you least expect them.”

  “Tell me about it,” I spluttered.

  “The reef falls away steeply a few feet beyond where we’re stood, then it’s all sand right up to the beach,” Smith continued. “I figured you were right behind me. I didn’t realize you’d gotten into trouble down there. Okay if I let go of you right now?”

  I nodded. I felt as though I could just about stand on my own. Smith released his hand from my arm.

  “So what are we going to do?” I asked.

  Smith turned to the warship. “We wouldn’t make it over the open water so I’ll try and get Hannigen a little closer to us in the sea boat.” He put his finger between his lips and whistled loudly before waving his arm high in the air.

  I turned around and gazed back out to sea. The water between our position and the Russian warship was tinged pink with blood and several gray dorsal fins protruded from the surface. No way was I going to swim through that area.

  Hannigen and McPherson still sat in the sea boat, drifting beside the crippled warship. Both men had worried expressions on their faces as they scanned the sea’s surface. McPherson spotted us and pointed out our position to Hannigen.

  “What the hell happened down there?” Hannigen called out.

  “The ship is unmovable,” Smith replied. “The bows are stuck fast. We encountered hostiles and a whole bunch of big fish on the bottom side.”

  “Zombies down there?” Hannigen incredulously asked.

  “Yeah,” Smith confirmed.

  I felt a little uneasy about all the shouting going back and forth. Anybody or anything could hear us, from the shoreline to the underwater depths.

  “Can you get over here and pick us up?” Smith asked. “The boat should make it over the reef okay.”

  Hannigen nodded. “Okay, Smith. We’ll give it a shot.”

  The sea boat’s propeller churned the water behind it when Hannigen started the engine. He slowly steered away from the warship and around the blood and shark infested area in a big loop.

  I replaced my mask over my eyes, held my breath and dipped my head below the water’s surface. Nothing but small, harmless fish swum around our vicinity. No zombies or sharks loomed from the depths. I resurfaced and pulled my mask off my face.

  Hannigen steered the boat around in an arc and headed towards us. McPherson leaned over the side to watch for rocks protruding from the surface. Hannigen slowed the boat to a crawl as they skimmed over the top of the reef. They approached from an angle, slightly to our left and around one hundred yards away. Hannigen navigated the boat through the shallows, prompted by McPherson’s directions. Smith and I stood watching and waiting for the boat to draw nearer.

  I heard a crack, like a small peal of thunder from somewhere high above my right shoulder. I turned slightly to look back at the shoreline. My gaze focused on the stone Spanish style castle now standing at a side view angle on top of the cliff face, high above and to the left of the bay behind us. Several palm trees grew tall alongside the castle’s outer wall to the right side. Huge green leaves swayed slightly in the sea breeze.

  “Shit!” Smith spat.

  I spun around to look back out to sea. I instantly thought the boat had hit an underlying piece of jagged reef but the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

  McPherson was convulsing in the back of the boat, clutching a hand to his throat. Blood pulsed through his fingers and spilled over the front of his black combat jacket. He lurched sideways and bounced off the rubber boat side then slumped downwards into a crumpled heap. His face drained of color and he looked limp. Hannigen glanced around in all directions, his face etched with shock and confusion.

  Another cracking sound pierced the air and the gray rubber side of the sea boat popped as something tore through its surface.

  “Hannigen, get back to the warship, pronto,” Smith yelled.

  Hannigen still looked confused but realized his inflatable boat had been punctured and was in danger of sinking. He glanced behind him and saw McPherson in a bad way. He muttered something we didn’t hear and hit the engine’s revs, turning the boat around quickly and heading back to the Russian ship.

  I saw the back of McPherson’s head explode a split second after another loud crack snapped across the water. Hannigen glanced backward to the shore and began weaving the boat through the sea, barely keeping it from sinking.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I screeched. “Why is he just leaving us here?”

  Smith turned to me with gritted teeth, nodding to the land beyond. “There’s a fucking sniper up in that castle and he doesn’t want us to go ashore here.”

  “A sniper? Why is he firing at us?” I whispered. “He’s killed McPherson.”

  “And he’ll kill all of us unless we stop him,” Smith growled.

  Chapter Eleven

  Smith took a brief look back up at the castle on top of the cliff to our left.

  I turned to follow his gaze. The crescent shaped sandy bay sat directly behind us but the landscape steeply sloped upwards, forming a rapidly inclining rock face of around a couple of hundred feet, where the castle sat overlooking the whole area. The castle was angled so the furthest tower looked out over the sea. A battlement section sat on top of the tower with a series of indented crenels facing outwards and running the length of the top of the stone walls. An ideal position for a sniper defending the island.

  “You think he’s up there, in that tower?” I asked.

  “Undoubtedly,” Smith muttered. “And he’s probably moving positions right now, trying to zero in on us. Those palm trees are probably blocking his view but if he’s as good as I think he is, it won’t take him long to find an angle. We gotta move.”

  I glanced around. “Where?”

  “Only one place to go and that’s inland.” Smith pointed to the bay behind us.

  I glanced back out to sea and saw Hannigen had successfully navigated the sagging boat back alongside the warship. McElroy and his crew were desperately trying to haul the boat back onboard. At least Hannigen had made it back safely. Poor old McPherson. I liked him. The man upstairs had obviously dozed off for a second and forgotten about the Irishman.

  “Listen, kid,” Smith said, squirming around in the sea. “We got to shed these damn weight belts and quickly. Lose your air tank if it’s empty but keep hold of your weapon if you’ve still got it with you.”

  I nodded, realizing he was discarding anything that was going to weigh him down. I followed suit, unstrapping the weight belts from my waist and the air tank from my back.

  “Just try to keep your head below the surface and only come up for air when you absolutely need it,” Smith instructed. “We’re going to have to swim that last stretch to the shore. You okay with that, kid?”

  “Guess I’m going to have to be,” I sighed.

  “You ready?”

  I felt the weight belt slide down my legs and sink to my feet. I removed the air tank and let it drift away behind me.

  “Let’s go,” I said with false bravado.

  We shuffled to the edge of the reef and plunged into the sea. Smith swam slightly below the surface, I kept my head above water, puffing and panting my way through the water. Smith popped up occasionally to check I was okay, giving me the thumbs up every so often. I kept my focus on the shoreline ahead of me, concentrating on keeping a forward motion and trying to block out all the other hazards lurking all around me. Smith was a good enough swimmer below and above the surface to sniff out any close dangers. I couldn’t even
think about the sniper possibly adjusting his sights while aiming at my head. The mind can only cope with so much at any one time.

  After what felt like an hour of struggling through the water, Smith surfaced in front of me, around thirty feet away from the shoreline. He stood and walked then shuffled, keeping low in a hunched stance. He flipped up his mask and spat out his mouthpiece, turning back towards me.

  “Come on, kid.” He waved me forward.

  I felt my non-flippered foot scrape the sandy bottom. Then my foot scuffed across sand again. I’d reached the shore. My relief was brief. I tried walking through the shallow waves and fell on my face. Smith was too far away to pick me up again. I tasted the saltiness of the sea and hauled myself up. I waded, almost running through the shallows. Smith had already reached the golden sand beyond the waves.

  I kicked off my remaining flipper and felt spongy wet sand between my toes as I paddled through the receding tide. For the first time, I closely studied the beach area spreading in a semi circle around one-hundred feet each side of me. The beach was nothing more than a small cove and the sand at the water’s edge soon yielded to thick woodlands beyond.

  I glanced to my left and saw we were completely shielded from the castle now. The dense trees and rocks covered us from any sniper’s sights, no matter how good a shot he was. Momentarily, we were safe.

  Smith sat on a large gray rock to my left, ripping off his air tank, flippers and face mask. I trudged slowly towards him and stopped a little way from the rock, breathing heavily and aching all over.

  “I don’t suppose you thought to bring some smokes with you?” Smith asked.

  “Where the hell would I carry a pack of cigarettes, inside my damn undercrackers?”

  Smith shrugged. “Only asking.”

  I glanced over the thick, bushy green plants and cluster of tall trees directly inland, around twenty yards behind the bay.