“A little, but I think it keeps getting better.”
Lana recalled that falling feeling when Al whisked her away to his waterfall world. The very thought made her stomach swoon, but it made her appreciate the power she'd witnessed. Jerry was dead, but now he was alive. Somehow, Al had made that happen. Maybe, in some cosmic way, he'd heard and answered her prayers.
Just let me get my Liam and I'll do whatever you want.
A part of her couldn't shake the feeling she was making deals with the devil.
Or that she was lying about that last part.
Robbie Comes Back From The War
Cairo, IL. While Liam watches Sabella drive away as he sits on the farmhouse roof.
Marty sat on the hot decking of a barge near the middle of the Ohio River. The sun beat down from almost directly overhead and made the metal surface nearly unbearable. She had to use the tips of her fingers to steady herself because she didn't want to burn her soft palms.
Someone had placed her there not long ago, but her irregular heartbeat episode had left her light-headed and sluggish. She was content to watch the muddy water swirl below the boat, but a gunshot scared her back into the reality of the situation on the deck.
“One's over there!” Chloe yelled a second before another burst.
“Two on this side,” Mark cried out.
“What's going on?” Marty asked as she resisted the urge to cover her ears. The guns did weird things to her hearing aide.
“We were in a wreck. Now we're fighting for our lives on these barges.” Craig sat next to her with his shotgun sitting on his lap. He nursed his arm like it was broken and she remembered he'd been flung into the front seat when the truck ran into the water.
“I'm so sorry you're hurt. I hope I'm not slowing you down?”
“No, miss. We're safe for the moment and there isn't really anywhere else to go. We're waiting to see if we can flag down a boat.” He pointed out into what was left of the main channel of the Ohio River. The city of Cairo had made an industry of collecting a thousand barges from up and down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and the anchored fleet practically reached from one side of the river to the other. The cargo-haulers were mostly flat, however, which made it easy to see the dead from miles away.
Chloe seemed to guard her territory while standing on the next barge over. She fell to one knee, fired her big black rifle at a man walking fifty feet away, and then shoved a woman who managed to get right next to her. The plague victim fell over the side, out of sight. The orange-haired woman looked down at her gun for a moment, then out over the barges, then over to Mark.
“Hey, Mark,” she shouted. “Do everything you can to save ammo. Push ‘em over. Smack ‘em with the stock. Give ‘em some of your used car salesman razzle dazzle.”
“On it!” Mark laughed from his spot two barges upriver.
Chloe jumped from her boat to the next as if trying to widen the safety net around her and Craig. Marty counted a dozen zombies nearby, but there were hundreds of barges moored together, so it was impossible to know how many more were close.
“Mark sold cars,” Craig said with a touch of humor. “I worked in a wastewater treatment plant. Can you believe we're here?”
“I was cross-stitching a holiday pillow when the zombies struck,” she said without humor. A moment later she caught herself and struck an upbeat tone. “What I mean is, it doesn't matter what you did prior to this terrible disaster. I think you three have performed as well as any soldier, and I've known quite a few.”
He tapped his shotgun. “We're going to need to step it up. Some of the barges have ramps to the shore. That's why they're up here with us. The longer we sit here, the more are going to come, even after that fire burned most of them. Too many survived.”
Marty responded with a noncommittal “Mmm-hmm.” The gurgle of water from the current rushing underneath all the barges reminded her of the scale of the place. There could be dozens of ramps along the miles of shoreline and zombies could be walking up each one at that moment. That didn't count the infected that were already on the barges when the bomb went off. The soldiers and townspeople fought to protect their town, not the floating metal coffins.
Why did I use that word?
She turned to get a better look at the river channel. Surely someone piloting a boat would stop for her? Being an ancient woman of 104 almost always gave her the perk of getting help from strangers. Her age had brought new problems in the age of the Apocalypse, but there had to be good people left.
Marty closed her eyes and prayed.
Please, God, send us one of your Good Samaritans to help save my friends.
Her spiritual guilt flared like that orange explosion over Cairo. Marty came dangerously close to praying for herself. Her new friends would die trying to help her, so a prayer for them was, in reality, a prayer for her own safety. However, she didn't know how to seek intercession from a higher power while absolutely refusing help for herself.
And, while I've got you on the line, please help Liam and the rest of the family.
Since the sirens went off she hadn't seen any of her extended family, but in the days leading up to the disaster she'd been visited in an endless procession of them. Jerry came by most frequently because he did most of the maintenance on the house itself, but she knew part of the reason he came so much toward the end was because Liam was living with her. She also got visited from a dozen other family members over those last weeks. Each of them was now enduring the end of the world in whatever way they could. Praying for each of them individually would take a lot of time, but that's what she did to keep busy while her protectors fought for their lives.
It took an hour before she felt satisfied she'd hit every bit of family she could recall. Some names of the girlfriends and boyfriends of the younger generation escaped her memory, but she did her best. When finished with those she hoped were still alive, she focused on those she knew were dead.
Al, her husband, because he had filled her life with such joy when he was alive. His duplicate had led her through the disaster these past few weeks by showing her his waterfall universe, multiverse, or whatever he called it. She still didn't understand what it all meant, but she couldn't deny his help had saved lives.
Robert, her son, died in Korea ages ago. She remembered him as a smartly-dressed soldier running out her front door to catch a ride to Union Station and head off to war.
Victoria, her first-born daughter. She'd recently shared the details of her little baby's death with Liam and his Victoria, but even thinking about her decades later made her heart skip a few beats because it was so terrible.
God, forgive me.
It was a prayer she'd said every day of her life since the accident.
She continued with Jerry, Liam's dear father. Liam said Elsa dug him up and made him into a zombie to attack his wife. It was too horrible to contemplate.
She was consumed over the next several minutes praying for her parents, uncles, cousins, and numerous friends she'd lost over the past century. It was a supreme disappointment to realize she couldn't remember them all. Faces and places, yes, but names were getting difficult to keep straight.
More recently, she recalled the names of those who helped her and Liam escape the city: Jones, the big policeman from the train. The Captain of police who got them out of the Arch. Phil's partner who died in front of her. All those poor test subjects at Riverside.
Time flew by during her introspection, or maybe she dozed off somewhere along the way. She shook her head and hoped to get back into the moment. Craig was still next to her with the shotgun right where he had it before.
“You are a car salesman?” she asked as if continuing their earlier conversation.
Craig gave her a sideways glance. “That's Mark. I work in plumbing.”
“Oh, yes. I'm so sorry.”
“That was hours ago, miss. You've got nothing to apologize for.”
It was evening and the sun hung low in the wes
tern sky. They seemed no closer to rescue, and if no boats came by, it was going to be a long, dark night on the barge. She wasn't looking forward to another uncomfortable night of sleep. Her legs were already tingly from lack of blood flow from sitting in one place for too long.
“We have to do something,” she said to Craig. She felt as if she were channeling Al, who claimed to always be watching and rooting for her.
Chloe was a small orange-haired speck far down the line of boats. Mark was a bit closer but stood between them and the shore as if to head off any direct line of attack toward Marty and Craig.
The town still smoldered from the big fuel-air explosion set off earlier, but it wasn't as thick as it had been. Zombies still came over the top of the levee in small numbers, but they didn't seem to get onto the boats anywhere close to where the truck crashed. She imagined them standing in the mud right next to the truck, however, waiting for the moment a living person came up to the edge of the beached barge.
“Liam would do something,” she said to herself. “What would he do?”
Several rifle blasts alerted her to trouble from Chloe's direction.
Craig stood up because he heard it too. “Aww, she's using her last bullets. That's just friggin' great.”
“What is it?” she said quietly. She was pretty sure that tone of voice could only mean one thing.
“Too many zombies,” he said dully.
2
Chloe ran and hopped from barge to barge. Twenty or more zombies followed her at faster than walking pace like bees chasing a honey thief. Marty guessed there were lots of gaps between the barges because zombies fell out of sight more than a few times as the woman sprinted to get away.
Marty studied her surroundings because she was desperate to do something. Her barge was covered with metal roofing, so it was impossible to say what it carried. However, the most redeeming feature had nothing to do with cargo. She looked to the river and then to the lashings holding her boat to the next one.
“We can let this barge go loose and float away with it.” She pointed to the heavy ropes tied on the one side.
Craig gave her a doubtful glance but did a double take when he noticed she was serious.
“We won't have any control, but I guess that's better than fighting all those zombies.”
“That's what my great-grandson would do,” she said proudly.
“Yeah, that's got to work.” He turned to the others and whistled using two fingers. The loud screech caught the attention of Mark and Chloe because they both waved as if they'd heard it.
“We have to work fast,” Craig suggested as he went to the rope holding the back end of the barge.
“Oh, I'll do what I can.” She looked at the size of the rope holding the middle of the barge and felt tiny in its presence because it was as thick as a man's leg. “But I have to be honest. I could barely manage a tiny lasso rope so lifting this thing might be beyond my ability.” She wasn't a woman to give up so easily, but there was just no way her tiny hands could even grip the stout barge rope.
Craig immediately ran into his own problems. He didn't have the full use of one of his arms and it took him several minutes to unwind the rear rope from the next barge, so it would release.
“One down,” he declared as he ran to the middle tie-down next to Marty.
“I need help,” she said sadly.
“No problem,” he said as he got into position. It took him even longer to unwind the rope from around the giant nautical cleat.
Marty kept one eye on him and the other on Chloe and her pursuit. She continued to jump over the gaps between the tethered boats, but she was starting to slow down. The number of zombies behind her was now larger than before, like the bees were calling in reinforcements from shore. It didn't take her long to figure out some of the infected people popped out from the cargo holds as she ran by.
“Got it!” Craig shouted as he threw off the line. “One to go.”
He ran forward along the edge of the hull as the current caught the back of the 200-foot metal ship and slowly tugged it away from the main fleet. The front tie-down held them in place, however.
Mark was almost back to the boat, and he headed for Craig at the front, so she started moving in that direction.
Craig cussed up a storm right up until he noticed her standing there.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you can push this barge against the current to release the pressure on this rope. I can't unhook us from the next barge because of all the tension on the line.”
“Oh, dear, I don't think I can help with that.” Marty looked around for tools or machinery to assist, but the deck was clean.
“Can you cut it?” she asked.
Craig's face was drenched with sweat and fear, but it lit up at those words. He pulled out a pocket knife, opened the blade, and began cutting the strands. By the time Mark hopped aboard he'd barely made any progress because the rope was massive and under intense strain.
“What's going on here?” Mark asked.
“The lady wants to take a boat ride,” Craig said as he pumped the knife back and forth with his one good hand.
Chloe wasn't far now. She'd been running in a wide arc but now came at them directly as if she sensed the boat was about to leave. The zombies behind her made good time in their pursuit and Marty guessed maybe fifty were coming.
“You just gonna stand there?” Craig asked the other man. He cut at the line like a madman and sounded quite winded.
“I got this,” Mark answered by pulling out a larger knife from a sheath on his belt. Together the men tore into the rope and began making some progress.
“Chloe! Over here.” Marty waved her arm to get the woman's attention.
“She's getting closer,” Marty said to the men. Their faces and arms were immediately drenched in sweat because of the humidity as their blades worked back and forth on the taut line.
Craig sat back and shook his good arm like it was hot from labor. When he caught sight of Chloe he also waved at her. “We're launching this barge!”
The running woman acknowledged him and tried turning to lead the zombies toward shore, but many were already too close to Marty and the barge. The swarm of bees broke ranks and it became a free-for-all as some turned to follow the orange-haired woman while others converged on Marty.
“Oh, no,” Marty said as she took a step back.
Chloe changed her plan, too, and raced right for the boat.
“Hurry up, man,” Craig said to Mark.
“I could use your--” just as the rope snapped with a wild twang.
The three of them all fell over as the boat slid away from the fleet.
Mark sat up and looked to Chloe. “Run!”
She hopped from one barge to the next in a direct line toward them. At one point she actually ran past some of the shuffling zombies who were more focused on Marty, Craig, and Mark.
“I'm going to jump for it,” Chloe huffed.
Marty remained seated on the hot steel of the deck and watched in helplessness as the gap widened between the free barge and those still moored together. The current wasn't very fast but seemed to want the boat in the middle of the channel rather than let it linger near the others.
Chloe ducked under the reaching arms of a man wearing nothing but a bright yellow raincoat and ran right toward the final edge. Marty held her breath because she thought the distance was too great to jump.
The running woman seemed to reach the same conclusion because she called off her jump and turned to run downriver on the long edge of the boats. The zombies kind of reorganized as if they sensed Chloe still hadn't escaped. The swarm pursued the only person left to grab.
“I'm out of ammo,” she called over with labored breathing.
“Me too,” Mark answered.
“I have a few rounds left,” Craig said while holding up his shotgun.
“I can make it,” Chloe wheezed. She then he
ld out her rifle and wound up as if to throw it. “Watch out!”
Chloe side-armed her rifle so it flew toward the middle of the barge behind Marty and the others. The gun clanged onto the metal covering over the cargo hold before it came to a rest in one of the long grooves.
“I think she's coming to get her gun,” Mark said with a grin.
Marty looked downriver to a place where a few barges jutted further out into the river than the others. She glanced at Chloe and back to the place downstream and figured that was the same calculation the other woman had made.
Since the barge had no motor and they had no way to guide it, all Marty could do was watch where the current took them. She got back to her feet and looked into the wide gap between her and the other barges. A hand poked up from the filthy brown water and wiggled some fingers almost in a wave to her.
She didn't know what to do. Was it a trick of her tired eyes? Why would anyone be swimming in the river?
“You can do it!” Mark shouted.
“We're going to be close down there,” Craig added while pointing to the upcoming passing.
“Craig, Mark,” Marty said in a too-quiet voice.
Chloe paced the slow-moving barge as they all went down the river. She made great time running on the long walkways at the edge of each flat boat, but the jumps from one to the next sometimes required her to slow so she could judge distances. The zombies, led, it seemed, by the yellow-raincoat guy, sometimes fell in those gaps, but generally kept up with her.
Marty made her own calculations and worried they wouldn't be close enough for Chloe to jump aboard, even at the point nearest the parked fleet. In fact, they continued to drift out into the main channel.
And there are now two hands down there.
Marty froze with indecision. If Chloe missed the place where the barge was closest she might not ever get another chance to join them, but if she jumped and fell in the water it would also be very bad for her.
“I think I see zombies in the water,” Marty declared. Her soft voice hardly rose above the moans of the zombies chasing Chloe.
The free-floating barge was only yards from the closest point. She dared herself to look into the water one more time and she gasped at the sight. The hands were still there, bobbing in the swift current. A head was just beneath the surface, but it was hard to see in the dirt-brown water. It wasn't some vision she was having.
Zombie Escape Page 27
