Carlie Simmons (Book 3): The Way Back

by JT Sawyer

  After twenty minutes, he yelled behind him for everyone to come to the console, where he was pointing to the horizon. “There—over there—that is Cancun, the spring break capitol of Mexico. And those white blimps off to the left of the mainland—those are the cruise ships.”

  “First, we will hit a cruise ship and load up on supplies for ourselves and Alejandro,” said Carlie. “Then we will make our way to the mainland and see about getting to that helo. If it’s operational, Matias can fly it back here and then inspect all the systems while we prep for our trip back to the States.” She glanced over at Amy, who sitting beside her. “I know your leg is doing much better but I want you to take it easy on this venture, alright? Come on board to help gather supplies and that’s it.” Amy reluctantly nodded and folded her arms.

  “How long before we arrive at the cruise ships?” said Shane.

  “It’s only an hour out from here if the wind continues to cooperate. The trip back will be twice as long though.”

  He spun the steering wheel and angled the sailboat to the right. “I have only had to make two trips so far since the virus began. Each time, I only went to the cruise ships so I can’t say what the mainland looks like. It seemed like there would be fewer creatures to deal with on the ships than inland.”

  “Yeah, how’d that work out for you?” said Matias.

  “OK, I guess. I went to the deckside breakfast bars and loaded up on canned goods and then tossed them in pillow cases that I tied off to inner tubes, retrieving them afterwards. The last trip though I had a few dozen freaks heading my way. I had to jump off the side and swim to my boat. Can’t say we’ll have that luxury if we go into Cancun.”

  “Too bad we can’t pilot one of those cruise ships back to the States. That’d be the way to make an entrance,” said Jared.

  “We could make you the pouty bartender,” said Shane with a chuckle.

  “That’d be alright with me. Except that childish face of yours would prevent me from serving you alcohol.”

  “Fuck—I can drink you under the table any day, amigo,” said Shane.

  “I just rolled my eyes so hard I expended five hundred calories,” smirked Jared. “You SEALs think you’re awesome at everything, don’t you? Until you’re not and then we all gotta hear you complain.”

  Carlie came up and inserted herself between the two men and rested her arms on both of their shoulders. “Seems like everything’s back to normal between you two now that we’re operating with full bellies again.”

  “I’d still watch out for this guy, Carlie,” said Shane. “His southern charm has been known to beguile many a woman from what he’s told me around the campfire while you ladies were out fishing.”

  “Ah, Shane—I was just sharing those stories for their instructional value, figuring you could use some guidance with the opposite sex.”

  Carlie pushed off the two men’s arms and stood still. She relished the company of both of them but rarely acknowledged her dormant romantic feelings for either. The grueling living conditions they had endured had precluded anything beyond friendship but her feelings occasionally crossed the line in her mind beyond mere curiosity at what such an outcome would look like. “OK, so now I suppose you are both going to get in a pissin’ contest about how many ladies you’ve scored with.”

  Amy leaned back from the console. “They’ve been comparing pecker sizes on everything else since we started this castaway trip many weeks ago. Surprised we haven’t heard this one yet.”

  “I’ll have you know that the ladies I’ve been with in my life have all been as gifts from the gods and treated as such,” said Jared.

  “See, here he goes, laying it on thick. Even his accent has increased,” said Shane with a laugh.

  “Take Carlie here, for instance,” Jared said, placing his left hand on her back and rubbing her tan shoulders, which were showing through her white tank top. “I just have to ask you, good lady—did it hurt your back when you fell from heaven?”

  Both women fluttered their eyes and erupted in laughter, looking at each other and then back at the two men. Carlie shook her head, smiling at Jared. “I still say that you would’ve made a great politician.” She walked down the short wooden steps and motioned to Amy to follow. “Why don’t we leave this testosterone fest and go over our gear one more time.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” said Amy, smirking at Jared and trying to contain her giggles.

  Alejandro nodded with his chin to the four men on deck. “We’ll head to the cruise ship on the left first. That way we can get some food for your trip and for myself as well. You’ll be able to get a better vantage point from the deck there for scoping out the mainland.”

  “Time to drop your linen and stop your grinning,” said Shane.

  Jared gave Shane a look of dismay. “And you talk about me with my sayings. You’re like a busted garden hose with all those navy expressions gushin’ outta you.”

  “You got that right, pencil-neck. Now let’s lock and load,” Shane said with a grin as he lightly punched Jared in the arm.

  Chapter 15

  As Alejandro moored the boat beside the rear of the cruise ship, Shane and Matias stood at the back of the sailboat with their AK-47s pointing up at the deck, twenty feet above.

  Jared was standing with a coiled rope in his hand that had a large steel gaffing hook attached to one end. He waited for a nod from Shane to begin swinging the caltrop and then propelled his arm upward in one swift thrust. The steel hook landed on the deck with a loud clank and it lodged against the guardrail as Jared slowly retracted the rope.

  “Remember, we don’t have suppressed rifles this time so don’t take a shot unless there’s no other option,” whispered Carlie, who had stepped forward to hold on to the rope as Jared began his climb. His sinewy frame clambered up the thick manila rope. Reaching the top, he swung his body over the white guardrail, making sure the rifle slung off his back didn’t slide down and clatter against the metal uprights.

  Carlie craned her neck skyward, watching him disappear onto the deck. A few minutes later, she saw a rotting corpse with a freshly cleaved head flop over the edge and plunk into the ocean. In the moments that followed two more creatures clad in bathing suits plunked down into the water. Jared reappeared over the guardrail with his soiled machete in his hand and a white-brimmed captain’s hat with gold trim adorning his head.

  “The deck is secure. Permission to come aboard,” he said with a two-fingered salute.

  ****

  Once they were up on the deck, Alejandro led them down the narrow left walkway towards a gift shop next to the galley.

  He slowly opened the door and peeked inside for any movement. A second later, he nodded for everyone to follow him. As they stood in the middle of the room surrounded by racks of t-shirts, straw hats, and assorted tourist trinkets, Alejandro turned back and smiled at them. “Before we get our supplies of food and I go any further with you, you seriously need to acquire some fresh clothing.”

  The motley bunch looked at each other in their tattered garments and chuckled. “Hadn’t even thought about it until you mentioned it,” said Matias. Then he quickly removed his soiled shirt and flung it behind the checkout counter and rifled through the Hawaiian shirt rack next to him. The others followed in earnest, with the two women going over to the corner to try on some floral-print summer blouses.

  After donning a button-up shirt with green parrots on it, Shane walked over to a postcard rack and began rummaging through a shelf full of water shoes. “Make sure to get some new footwear,” he said, pulling down a size twelve and sliding them on. Then he leaned over and grabbed a pair of mirror sunglasses.

  Jared was pawing through the plastic bins of candy by the counter, stuffing the pockets in his new beach shorts with bite-sized packets of M&Ms, Twix, and Swedish Fish. Then he tore open a goopy Snickers bar and rammed it into his mouth, letting a thread of caramel hang off his lip while immediately tearing into another packet. Amy came over to him, ti
lting her oversized red Fedora hat and running her fingers along the sparkling silver earrings resting against her tan neckline. “Do you approve, good sir?”

  “Most definitely, my good lady. I would be as a fumbling child in the presence of such a cultured woman.”

  Carlie came over with a purple woven hat and thrust her arms out, revealing gold chain-link bracelets on either wrist. “I’m looking to make a purchase and not sure which one is of finer quality.”

  Before he could answer, Shane pushed his way into the group, wearing a herringbone derby hat. “Is this a black-market operation here or is this guy legit, ladies?”

  “Oh my…well…sir,” smiled Carlie. “I hadn’t thought about it. I mean he looks like an honest fellow but he could be one of those swarthy types who preys upon unsuspecting women.”

  “I doubt you have to ever worry about anyone preying upon you,” said Jared, pointing to the gold bracelet on her left wrist and flinging the other one on the floor.

  Matias whistled from the left corner, motioning to a glass cabinet full of mini liquor bottles. He reached in and grabbed a bottle of Tres Agaves Tequila and lustily unscrewed the cap. “Alright, we’ve got all we need right here.”

  “Figures you’d reach for that child’s drink,” said Jared, who grabbed a bottle of Tito’s Vodka and then reached for the shot glasses on a wooden rack.

  Both men began pouring their respective bottles into their mouths, splashing fluid liberally over their chins.

  “Did we come for the food or the drink—you guys do remember that this is a vessel full of flesh-eaters?” said Amy.

  “Just one more swig,” said Matias, slamming down his vodka and then offering her a bottle. She pushed it away and reached for the bourbon instead, taking a sip and then laughing in a hoarse voice.

  Pavel stepped forward with a small bottle of Bell’s Scotch and hastily removed the cap. He took a hearty drink and then tilted his chin up while exhaling deeply before imbibing again.

  “You’re a Scotch man—no shit?” said Jared.

  “It’s a stereotype that we Russians only drink vodka. I can’t stand that peasant water. Scotch is for real men.”

  Jared laughed and lifted his glass to toast the older man. Carlie came up alongside them and grabbed a bottle of tequila. As she raised it up to her lips, a rattling noise outside the door caused everyone to freeze.

  Carlie moved to the door, palming the pistol on her hip. She peered through a crack in the door and then looked back at the group with two fingers raised.

  “Psst,” whispered Alejandro, nodding his head to the rear door behind the register that led out into a hallway along the other side of the gift shop.

  While Carlie stayed at the door, the others backpedaled out the other way. Once they were clear she retreated from the entrance and snuck along the checkout counter, grabbing a handful of soft Milky Way bars and stuffing them in her back pocket.

  Once they were in the hallway, Alejandro escorted them to the galley next to the gift shop. Stopping at the faux-wood door, he untied a knot securing the bronze door handle to a railing on the wall next to the entrance while peering into the porthole.

  “I secured this room when I was last here so no creatures would venture inside. The place should be secure.” He slowly swung the door open and proceeded inside as everyone fell in behind the wiry man.

  Spread along the almond-colored tiles was a dried swath of blood that led from the central food prep table to another door opposite them. “Don’t worry, that was from the maître d’ I had to dispatch on my first trip,” said Alejandro.

  Everyone stood gazing in wonder at the voluminous supplies lining the shelves along all four walls. Row upon row of canned corn, peanut butter, peas, powdered milk, beans, sugar, and jelly. On a stainless-steel table to the left were boxes of Irish oatmeal, brown rice, pasta, wheat, and graham crackers along with a neat row of mustard, ketchup, Tabasco sauce and assorted spices.

  The sink, stove, grill, and prep table were in an island in the middle, framed by dozens of pots and kettles which hung from the ceiling. Two walk-in freezer units were off to the right but were padlocked shut.

  “I usually stuff as much as I can fit into those heavy-duty trash bags under the sink and then lower them down into my boat or attach ’em to inner tubes and toss them overboard.”

  Shane moved up alongside Carlie. “Jared and I will head topside and recon the mainland from there while the rest of you load up on supplies,” he said.

  “Copy that,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder and then joining the rest of the group, who were busy grabbing armloads of supplies.

  Chapter 16

  Shane and Jared moved along the green-carpeted hallway until they reached a veranda that opened up to a swimming pool one level below. Milling aimlessly around the soupy red pool were close to sixty zombies, each one clad in either swimsuits or black t-shirts with pictures of guitarist Jerry Garcia on the front.

  The two men squatted down beside a blue suede couch and studied the bizarre scene. “What the hell is with those shirts—they’re all the same,” whispered Shane.

  “You know cruises are oriented around a particular theme. This one must have been a Dead Head theme.”

  Shane goggled at Jared and hunched his shoulders up. “What the hell is that?”

  “Grateful Dead, man—jeez, just how uncultured are you?”

  “I never listened to that hippy music.”

  Jared raised a hand over his mouth to restrain his laughter. “Shut up,” said Shane. “Before I crack you in your jaw.”

  “I ain’t laughing at you—or not entirely at you anyway. It’s just we’re on a cruise ship dodging zombies that are a bunch of Dead Heads. I could slice through this irony with my machete, man.”

  Shane looked down below at the crowd and then at Jared, quickly repositioning his eyes past Jared’s shoulder. “Right now, it’s not irony you need to hack through, my man,” he said, thrusting his chin up at the approaching creature lumbering down a walkway to their right.

  The two men stood and simultaneously ran forward, slamming their machetes into either shoulder.

  “Why don’t you call it next time? I had this one,” Jared said, removing his blade. As Shane yanked his machete out, Jared kicked the beast in the chest, knocking it backwards over the railing into the stagnant swimming pool.

  “You and your splashy entrances,” said Shane as they looked aghast at the ravenous crowd below staring up at them. “We better get to high ground before they get up the stairs.

  Both men darted up the metal steps leading to the upper levels until they crested an open-air observation deck which was lined with lounge chairs and a kiosk with a pseudo-thatched roof.

  “You safeguard the stairs and let me know how we’re doing on time. I’m gonna scope things out on the beach and try to locate the helo,” Shane said, withdrawing a pair of binoculars from his daypack.

  Jared stood by the stairwell, peering over the edge with his machete in one hand. “I’ve got movement.”

  “Just stay calm. We’ve got a few minutes before they get up here and we make our escape.”

  Jared looked nervously around the observation deck. “You see another set of stairs I’m missing?”

  Shane began laughing in between glassing the distant shoreline. “You’re a shit-hot professional thief and you didn’t already plan your exfil route?”

  “This ain’t funny, Shane. These things are one level away and we don’t have that much ammo to blast our way outta here.”

  “You grew up on the ocean. You must have done your share of high-diving, right?”

  Jared stepped back from the stairs and leaned over the railing, looking at the distant waters beside the ship. His face went pale and he staggered back on his feet. “The only time I ever dealt with heights was when something went wrong on a heist, so in other words, never. You sure about this?”

  “Don’t sweat it. If you’re not man enough to jump, I can always push y
our sorry ass off the edge.”

  Jared ran back to the stairwell and could hear the sickening groans of hungry flesh-eaters ambling up the metal steps. He saw the first creature with a scraggly gray beard and long greasy hair waddling forward. It was clad in a t-shirt with a guitar-playing skeleton smoking a cigar. Jared reached back and grabbed a lounge chair and flung it over the railing, causing the staggering line of freaks to halt temporarily.

  “You done eyeballing the coast yet, because we got about two more minutes before the undead Dead Heads arrive for brunch.”

  “Yep, I’m all set,” Shane said, tucking the binoculars back in the pack and walking to the side of the deck by Jared.

  “So what’s it gonna be—you following me over or do I have to carry you like some pathetic bride across the threshold?”

  “I got this, Mr. Navy Polliwog. I can do this just as well as you, if not better,” Jared said, nervously scanning the waters a hundred-twenty feet below and swallowing hard.

  Shane cinched the straps on his pack and tucked his mirror sunglasses in a zippered shirt pocket. Then he smiled at Jared and leapt off the edge. Jared watched him plummet into the blue-green waves below then he turned and saw the group of unDead Heads bobbling towards him on the deck. He looked straight at the horizon and squeezed his eyes closed. “Navy SEALs my ass, you were probably in the fucking Coast Guard,” he muttered, jumping with a war cry, his arms flailing in the wind as he slammed into the frothy waters below.

  Chapter 17

  During the next two weeks while they stayed at the small but well-stocked farmhouse, riding out several snowstorms, Willis put Eliza through the same combatives training that he and the other Secret Service agents went through on a regular basis. Nothing elaborate, but rather a focus on simple, primal skills that could be utilized at a moment’s notice under the duress of hand-to-hand combat which required raw, brutal fightstoppers using elbows, knees, headbutts, eye jabs, groin kicks, and throat strikes to subdue or kill an attacker. After the basics were learned, he taught her three knife-fighting moves and had her apply her blade skills on cardboard boxes, tree branches, and any other objects that would improve her slashing and thrusting skills. He had to remind himself not to focus on her athletic figure and instead to treat her as a student—one that was still under his protection.