Chapter Fifty-Five
“Fuck, there’s a shit load of fucking zombies down there, man,” Dan groaned, pointing through the windshield at the town beyond.
“No shit,” Smith muttered.
“What do we do?” I asked, turning off the truck’s engine. I switched the lights to the park position so they were only on a dim setting.
We sat there in silence for a few minutes, watching the light slowly increase as the sun started to rise and cast a red glow across the sea beyond the town.
“We wait for the sun to fully rise,” Smith finally said. “Going down there in darkness would be suicide.”
“From what I can see, going down there at all is fucking suicide, Smudger,” Tony snapped.
“We can use the waiting time to plan our route,” Smith said calmly. He handed out the last of his cigarettes in the pack.
We sat smoking, watching the town brighten with each passing minute. The whitewashed buildings around the harbor only stood at a maximum height of two levels and most consisted of just the one storey. The roofs were constructed of rusting corrugated iron or green tiles with plants sprouting from cracks and gaps in their surfaces. The undead slowly shuffled between the buildings along narrow streets, paved courtyards, alleyways and backyards. Their sunburned and parched heads bobbled as they moved in a drunken like shamble around the main hub of the town. A cluster of taller buildings sat in a square to the right of the town. A stone fountain was surrounded by a patch of dry waste ground that sat in the center of the square, bordered by rows of shuttered up stores and bars.
The harbor sat to the left of the bay and consisted of four wooden jetties jutting around a central pier that spread out onto the sea. A large number of boats bobbed around next to the jetties, with a few vessels fully or slightly submerged under the surface. Small shack like bars and seafood diners stood around the edge of the harbor and most were either boarded up at the front or broken and wrecked. It looked as though the harbor area was built in a mock 1800’s maritime and nostalgic Caribbean style. Now it simply looked what it was, a rundown shanty town.
I watched the shallow waves lap against the golden sandy beach for a while. The sea breeze fluttered through ruined beach chairs and torn up sun loungers all tipped over and lying on their sides.
“I’ll bet this town was a little piece of heaven back in the day,” I muttered.
“Yeah, it was a total blast, dude,” Dan said. “You could get anything you wanted. From a two bit hooker to an ounce of cocaine. It was all here, man.”
I scowled at Dan’s perception of a good time. “That’s not quite what I meant, Dan,” I said.
“Whatever, man.” Dan shrugged. “It’s never going to be the same here ever again so why even think about it?”
“You never know your luck, kid,” Smith grunted.
I sat up and looked around the cab. We were all slumped in the bench seat and our eyes were baggy and half closed. If we stayed as we were much longer we’d all be asleep. We had to get our shit together or we’d never find a boat.
“So, are we going to try and get to the harbor or what, Smith?” I asked with renewed vigor. “We need to do something.”
“Yeah, I know,” Smith sighed. “I was just enjoying sitting here awhile, you know, watching the world go by.”
“Have you been smoking weed, Smith?” I asked.
“Not lately.”
“You seem kind of laid back.”
“Nah, just having a little R and R is all. All right, Wild Man. Come on, let’s go ape shit crazy downtown.” Smith sat upright in the seat and rubbed his face.
“You want to drive down there?” I asked.
Smith shook his head. “Nah, that big old diesel engine makes too much noise. We’d have zombies crawling up our asses before we even got near the jetty. We’ll have to be quiet and use a little stealth to get near those boats in the harbor.” He pointed across the town to the central pier. “If we can make it to the edge of town on foot, we can get up on those rooftops and make our way across the streets to the jetty. If we’re quiet enough, we can get to the boats along the quayside before the zombies know we’re there.” He pointed to the line of boats and turned to face Tony. “Which of those is that glass bottomed motherfucker? Can you see it?”
Tony rocked his head from side to side, studying the jetties. “I can’t be sure but I think I can see one halfway down on the second jetty to the left of the pier.” He pointed to a partially obscured, elongated vessel with glass paneled sides, which sat low in the water behind a huddle of dilapidated fishing boats.
Smith nodded. “Okay, we’ll head for that one. If we get into trouble, find a boat and cut yourself loose from the harbor and we’ll re-evaluate if things go to shit. Got it?”
We all nodded.
“If we get into trouble before we even make it to the harbor, we’ll try and get right back here to the truck. No firing of weapons unless we seriously have to and no talking, coughing or farting when we’re crossing over those rooftops, understand?”
“Yeah, got it, man,” Dan said.
Tony and I nodded.
“Okay, collect up your weapons and don’t forget to check them and reload before we head into the town,” Smith instructed. He picked up his assault rifle and opened the passenger door.
The three of us gathered our respective firearms and followed Smith out of the truck’s cab. We stood in front of the vehicle’s big fender, Smith and I checked and reloaded our weapons. Smith helped Tony and Dan with their firearms and ran through a few do’s and don’ts with them again just so they were clear on the working of the mechanisms and safety issues.
I kept watch on the town at the end of the track at the bottom of the hill while the others were practicing their weapon drills. The undead didn’t seem interested in anything beyond the town’s limits and simply continued to shuffle around the streets and buildings in an aimless trance. Most of the zombies looked as though they were of African Caribbean descent and had probably worked and lived in and around the port town. Such a shame I thought. Their beautiful island that they’d worked so hard to build up into an exclusive vacation destination had been brought to its knees by this terrible virus. Maybe just one infected person had landed here on a ship or an aircraft and turned the whole island into a ticking time bomb of death.
“Hey, Wilde Man, are you still with us or have you turned into a zombie?” Smith’s words pulled me away from my musings.
“Huh?” I mumbled.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Sure. A bit on the tired side but otherwise I’m on it.”
“You can sleep when we’re on that boat and out to sea sailing around the island,” Smith said. “But we have to get there first. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes to get there if we play it right.”
“Let’s make sure we get it right then, Smudger,” Tony said, with some surprisingly renewed enthusiasm.
“Okay, everybody,” Smith said. “If we’re all good, let’s go. Good luck, guys and remember the rules.”
We all murmured a response and followed Smith as we crept towards the outskirts of the port town.
That familiar churning in my stomach came back as we drew nearer. I could smell the rotting stench of the numerous undead and could hear their dreadful collective moans, like the sound of a swarm of angry wasps.
I felt extremely fatigued and wished I could simply fast forward the next twenty minutes in time until we were safely on that boat and sailing out of the harbor. Unfortunately, life wasn’t like an old video recorder and I was dreading our latest impending scheme.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The first dwelling we came to was nothing more than a corrugated iron shed at the rear of a small house on the outskirts of town. The hill sloped to the rear of the shed and the roof was only a few feet above the incline. The soil must have been dug away at the front of the building to allow for space in the interior. Although, how the buildings were constructed and th
eir general purpose was no concern of mine. All I cared about was getting to that harbor.
Smith put his finger to his lips to signal to keep silent and clambered up onto the shed’s metal roof. He stood for a few seconds then waved us up to join him. I winced as the corrugated iron clattered underfoot while we climbed up. We turned to the town to gauge the scene below us. A slight dust cloud hovered at shoulder height around the main hub and circling the stone fountain in the center of town. I watched the crowd of zombies plodding through the town center for a few moments, kicking up the dust from the path on the dried up ground. I wondered if maybe it was a place they liked to go and sit or spend time in their former lives.
“Okay, if we move from roof to roof we have a good chance of making it,” Smith said in a hushed voice. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances and don’t go taking any giant leaps that cause a lot of noise.”
We nodded in agreement and Smith led the way across the shed roof. A gap of around six feet separated the shed from the main house and we hopped up onto the orange, clay tiled roof. We silently maneuvered from roof to roof, moving closer to the harbor with every jump. Clusters of undead roamed in the alleyways, paths and yards between the buildings but they didn’t seem to notice us moving across the rooftops above them. We were forced to deviate slightly and take a curving route around the town as some of the buildings were separated by the wider central street, splitting the dwellings from the stores and bars.
The strange combination of decaying flesh from the undead and the saltiness of the sea wafted on the breeze as we trod across the town center. Every step we took was carefully coordinated and as soundless as possible. We were all on high alert, even though we were tired as hell.
The sun’s heat intensified as dawn receded to full blown daytime during our rooftop crossing. We stood on a red tiled roof around twenty yards from the edge of the harbor below us when I heard a crack and then a zip echo around the buildings. The sounds seemed to stir the zombies from their docile state. They became increasingly agitated and more aggressive in their actions, clawing the air and quickening their pace.
“Get down everybody,” Smith hissed.
Smith, Tony and I immediately went to ground in a crouching position but Dan stayed upright, with a confused expression across his face. I was about to tell him to hunker down when the crack-zip sound came again.
Dan’s whole body jolted in one jerky movement and his head rocked sideways, with a large proportion of his skull exploding outwards amongst a spray of blood and brain matter. Dan’s body clattered onto the tiles with blood and gore showering the surrounding area.
“Shit!” I barked, too loudly for our predicament.
Tony coughed loudly, retched and then vomited between his feet.
“It’s that fucking sniper again,” Smith growled, scanning the town to our right.
I didn’t notice at first but the slight sloping pitch in the roof caused Dan’s corpse to roll down the tiles towards the street below. Smith’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open.
“Stop him from going over the side,” he whispered.
I reached out to grab Dan’s flailing arm but Tony was in my way and unmoving, still crouching on all fours staring at the tiles and convulsing wildly. I touched Dan’s forearm but couldn’t make enough contact to get a firm grip. My hand slid down to his wrist and I couldn’t hold onto him without knocking Tony out of the way and sending him tumbling after his dead friend.
“Get him, Wilde Man,” Smith repeated with increased urgency.
Dan left a smear of blood and brains spreading across the tiles, as what remained of his head clattered down the roof. I scrabbled at his clothing but still couldn’t get a firm hold to stop the body moving.
“Shit!” I hissed.
Dan’s corpse bumped onto the loose guttering at the edge of the roof and dislodged the fixings holding the drainage system to the wall. The guttering and the drainpipe collapsed and Dan’s body toppled from the roof. The old lead guttering and drainpipe noisily smashed into pieces as it hit the ground. Dan’s body landed amongst the debris with a sickening splat.
The undead crowd below turned, alerted at the loud crashing sounds echoing around the street. They were immediately attracted to the bloodied corpse and swarmed around it like a pack of hungry hounds. The undead roared and growled and tore into the flesh with their fingers and teeth.
“Oh, my god,” Tony wailed and threw up a string of stomach bile.
“I told you to grab him, Wilde Man,” Smith seethed through clenched teeth.
I shook my head and hunched my shoulders. “Smith, you saw for yourself, I couldn’t get hold of him.”
Another crack-zip sound rang out and a few orange sparks kicked up from the roof tiles, ten yards to our right.
“Fuck!” Smith spat. “We sure as shit can’t stay put here. A couple more shots like that and we’re going to end up like poor old Dan down there.” He nodded towards the street below. “That sniper is zeroing in on us. We have to move.”
“Move to where?” I barked. “There are fucking zombies all over the damn place.” Sweat rolled down my forehead and streamed down my back. We were trapped with no place to run.
“Time to make a decision, kid,” Smith said. “Stay here if you want but you won’t make it off this roof alive if you do.” He started crawling along the tiles to the edge of the building.
I made the snap decision to follow Smith off the roof. Facing the zombie hordes was slightly preferable to getting my head shot off by the militia sniper. I glanced around at Tony. He still sat in a crouched position with snot and puke dangling from his face and staring down at the tiles a few inches below him. Sweat poured off him and he seemed to be in some kind of trauma induced trance.
“Tony, come on, man,” I whispered. “We have to get off this damn roof.”
I turned my gaze to Smith who pulled a pained expression then drew his hand across his throat, indicating for me to cut ties with Tony. Smith was probably right but I felt I couldn’t just leave the guy to be slaughtered. I had to at least try to get him to come with us.
I reached out and shook Tony’s shoulder. “Come on, man. We’re moving out.”
Tony sniffed, wiped his face and glanced at me. “You carry on, mate,” he croaked. “I can’t go on and I can’t face going down there with that lot.” He jutted his chin towards the street.
“We’ll get out of this, Tony,” I said, nodding my head. “We’ll get away from here, I swear.” I inwardly winced at my false promise and hoped I sounded convincing.
Tears welled up in Tony’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. He screwed up his face and shook his head. “I’ve lost everyone now,” he sniffed.
I sighed, exasperated. Tony experiencing a full psychological meltdown on the damned rooftop was the last thing I needed. Another shot ricocheted off the tiles only a few feet from our position, sending a flash of orange sparks in all directions.
I wasn’t hanging around any longer. The next sniper bullet had either mine or Tony’s name on it.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Come on, Tony. We’re going now,” I roared, grabbing him by the arm.
Smith had already disappeared from the rooftop and god only knew where he was. I dragged Tony across the tiles to where I’d last seen Smith. We scrabbled to the edge of the roof and I looked down below. I saw a narrow alleyway steeped in shadow with only a few zombies shuffling their way around to the scene of the fresh corpse at the front of the building. I noticed a broken window frame high in the wall of the red brick structure across the alleyway opposite. Either Smith had dropped down into the alley or jumped through the window in the adjacent building. My money, if I had any was the route through the flimsy wooden window frame.
“We’re going through there,” I said, pointing at the window. The jump was around ten feet from the roof and roughly six feet below us.
“I can’t make it,” Tony protested.
I forced away thoughts of Julia unsu
ccessfully attempting to jump across buildings in Manhattan.
“You can and you will,” I growled. “We have no choice.”
A couple of the zombies in the alley must have heard my mutterings and gazed up at the roof. They stopped moving, growled and clawed the air, grimacing at us from the shadows.
I was anticipating another sniper’s bullet either shattering my skull or coming pretty close at any second. I took another quick glance at the window then back at Tony.
“You jump first but hurry it up,” I said, hoping I sounded as encouraging as the situation allowed.
Tony winced and his face screwed up. I thought for one horrible second he was going to have another meltdown. Thankfully, his expression immediately changed. He gritted his teeth and shook slightly as his face turned to a look of steely determination. He emitted a kind of grunting sound then sprang from the rooftop and launched himself across the alleyway.
I watched, silently praying Tony wasn’t going to nosedive onto the alley floor below or splat straight into the brick wall opposite. His left shoulder thudded against the side of the window frame and span him around slightly but he managed to guide himself through the gap and into the building.
I was about to follow him across when a sudden thought occurred to me. We hadn’t a clue what lay beyond that battered window frame. Maybe a whole bunch of undead stood in the room beyond that flimsy wooden rectangle. There was no way of telling for sure.
Doubt receded when Tony briefly popped his head out and waved me forward. As soon as he retreated I leapt from the rooftop.
The graying skin of the zombie’s faces below briefly flashed through my vision while I was momentarily airborne. My feet clattered onto the bottom of the window frame and a wave of pain shot through my left ankle. I rolled forward and crashed into something that toppled forward under my momentum. I lay on my side for a few seconds waiting for the pain to subside. Warm wooden floorboards pressed against the side of my face. The air smelled stale and the room was dim. Tony was speaking to me but I couldn’t decipher his words. Everything seemed a little blurred and hazy as though I was inside a soundproof bubble.
The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island Page 24
