Time of Death 01: Induction

by Shana Festa

  Gabby had taken on the very important responsibility of potty training Daphne for life at sea. It wasn’t as if we could just pull up to a grassy area and let her do her business. We moved the bathmat to the front of the boat and put her on it every time she whined to go out. It was a slow-going work in progress. My dog certainly took after me: she was stubborn. She started leaving us little presents in the most unlikely places. We found shit in the shower, under the kitchen table, under our beds. To Gabby, it became a game, while the others began getting annoyed.

  Frayed nerves created a short fuse, and I could understand their frustration. It wasn’t their dog. One night I even found little brown nuggets under my pillow. As I lay down to sleep, I slipped my hand under the pillow and felt something. I thought it was a bug at first. So, of course, I freaked out. In the middle of a zombie apocalypse, the thought of a spider in my bed still terrified me more than the undead waiting to eat me. I threw the pillow onto the floor and jumped up. When I hit the lights I was rewarded with her deposit. How on earth had she gotten it under there? I held my hand up like it was melting from acid and ran around the room.

  "Ew, ew, ew. Gross!" This produced a chorus of laughter from my peers as they ran into my room, armed for battle. Daphne looked proud of herself, like she had gifted me with nuggets of gold.

  Did I mention we had electricity? The boat was equipped with a rechargeable battery. We used it sparingly, of course, but this had been a necessity.

  Our clothes situation was bad. We had only the clothes on our back and a few items left from the boat owner. Our laundry situation was even worse. We had no detergent, so our clothes had begun to get ratty from washing them in salt water. Books though, now that was something we had coming out of our ass. There was something for everyone, even Gabby. Reading helped with the extreme boredom.

  Noelle was about to burst. She had gotten so big that the clothes she wore just weeks ago wouldn’t fit around her belly anymore. We all waited on her hand and foot to make sure she didn’t stress herself into an early labor. The baby was due in a few weeks’ time and we were all nervous about it. I had passed my obstetrics class with an A, but only got to witness one live birth during my clinical time. It was expected that I would deliver the baby. Talk about pressure. The one thing I was sure of was that we weren’t set up to deliver a baby on the boat. I made a mental note to discuss a supply run with Seth first thing in the morning. Honestly, I chastised myself for not thinking of it sooner.

  Adam and I fished daily. It was actually quite therapeutic. I hadn’t gotten over my aversion to fish, but it became the lesser of two evils, since the alternative was to starve. Daphne, on the other hand, lived like a queen. Gone were the days of dry kibble. We rowed out a bit so the current didn’t drag us too close to land and then cast out our lines. Sometimes it took hours just to get a nibble, and that was just fine with me. The boat, even as big as it was, had begun to feel cramped. We were essentially living in a floating prison.

  "I’ve got one for you," Adam told me. He looked so serious I had no idea what he was going to say. "What did one saggy boob say to the other saggy boob? We better get some support before someone thinks we're nuts!" I spit the water I’d been drinking all over him as I roared with laughter. It felt so good to laugh. The last month had been fraught with sadness and loss, and the temporary respite was something I really needed.

  I wracked my brain for something to follow up with. "My turn! What kind of bee makes milk instead of honey?" He scrunched up his face like he was deep in thought. I let him think for a minute then delivered my witty punch line. "Boo-bees." This was followed by another round of laughter from both of us.

  We settled back into silence. Adam was staring off into the vast, empty water. I looked at him, I mean really looked at him. His sandy blond hair outlined his chiseled face with messy curls in desperate need of a trip to the barber. He had bright blue eyes the color of a Caribbean ocean, and dimples appeared whenever he smiled. His shirt lay in a crumpled heap on the bottom of the boat as he sunned his bare chest. The way he leaned back on the boat caused his abs to stick out in a perfect six-pack. The urge to reach out and touch his chest took me by surprise, and I shook my head to clear it. I gave myself a mental slap in the face and cleared my throat.

  "Um, maybe we should head back. It’s getting late, and I want to check on Noelle."

  Adam looked at me sideways as if to say what are you, crazy? I looked away as my cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. I was disgusted with myself. My husband was out there, possibly dead, possibly alive and fighting for his life, and I was drooling over another man’s abs. The contempt I felt for myself must have shown on my face.

  "What’s wrong? Is everything okay?"

  "Fine," I muttered, and picked up the oars. Adam reached to take them from me and I snapped at him. "I’ve got it. I’m not useless." My rudeness had hurt him, and I felt like even more of a jackass. "I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Jake. I miss him. I wish there was some way to find him. Or at least steer him in the right direction to find us."

  Adam bit his lip. I knew the group was walking on eggshells around me. They wanted me to accept that Jake had perished. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept that. Without hope I had nothing left to tie me to sanity. Sighing heavily, I gave him the nudge he needed to go for it. "Just say it, Adam."

  "Emma, I care about you. You’ve become a friend. As your friend, I need to tell you what you’re doing isn’t healthy. I know what it’s like to lose the most important person in your life. Fuck, we all do. We’re all struggling with our grief and getting through it the best we can. That’s the problem. You refuse to grieve. How can you heal if you’re in denial?"

  "Jesus, Adam. What do you think? You think I haven’t watched all our friends lose loved ones? I get that you’re all grieving their deaths. Don’t you get it? You know they died, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I’m just supposed to assume Jake is dead just because he isn’t here with me? Well I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I won’t give up on him. Not until I see it with my own eyes."

  Adam thrust out his hand, waving it at the zombies lining the sea wall. "How can you believe he’s alive when that’s what he’s up against? They don’t sleep; they don’t sit back and relax. They just wait. Wait for us to get within reach or slip up and make a mistake."

  "I believe, Adam, because I have to. I believe in my husband, and I won’t write him off for dead just because you think I should." The small watercraft knocked against the hull of the Houseboat, and I left him sitting in the rowboat gawking at me as I stormed off. I slammed the bedroom door and felt the air rush from my lungs as I fell against the door. The knob jabbed into my back and I winced with pain. Daphne, who had been napping, now stood at the foot of the bed wagging her tail. Not even she could calm me down.

  I stomped my feet on the floor like a petulant child and went into an ALL CAPS RAGE, spewing profanities and words I, myself, didn’t even understand. Then I threw myself dramatically onto the bed and cried. Emotionally exhausted, I fell asleep angry at Adam and angry at myself. This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  All Dogs Do Not Go to Heaven

  Noelle woke up the next morning with contractions. Finn pounded on my door like a maniac, repeatedly yelling it’s time. I groaned and dragged myself from the bed. Opening the door, I got socked in the face with Finn’s pounding fist. "Holy shit! I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…are you okay? oh my God… it’s…it’s…happening," he blurted without taking a breath.

  I had to laugh, even through the pain, because his craze hit my funny bone. I wiggled my nose around to make sure all the bones were intact and pushed him out of the way. He followed me like a lost puppy all the way to the master suite where I examined Noelle. Her contractions weren’t painful, and they weren’t getting closer together. "I don’t think this is it, guys. I think what you’re experiencing is Braxton Hicks contractions. Your body’s
getting you ready for the real thing. Why don’t you play it safe and stay in bed today? I’ll check on you throughout the day, but if anything changes, I’ll just be topside."

  Still ashamed of my behavior the previous day, I avoided eye contact with Adam when I found the group waiting in the galley. I addressed them all. "We need to discuss Noelle's situation. We don’t have the setup to deliver a baby here. I’m not talking a full-fledged labor and delivery room; we don’t even have basic tools to cut the umbilical cord."

  Seth eyed me suspiciously. "So what are you proposing?"

  "We need to hit up a medical supply store. A hospital is out of the question. It would be a suicide trip. There’s too many things that could go wrong, even in the best of circumstances. We need things. Soap, gloves, a surgical blade, a blood pressure monitor, suture kit, just to name a few."

  "And what?" Seth asked. "You think it’ll be a walk in the park? Do you even know where the closest supply store is?"

  "Yes," I sniped back at him. "I do know where it is. And no, I don’t expect it to be easy. But it has to be done."

  Meg jumped in, asking, "Wasn’t the helicopter used for transporting emergency patients? Wouldn’t it be full of useful stuff?"

  We all looked to Seth for confirmation. We were once again disappointed. "It was, but we stripped her clean of all that stuff early on to fit more people."

  "So then," I declared. "It’s settled. We need to do some shopping." I made a list of items we needed and gave each person a hand written copy. With the state of the current world, I had become a realist. If something happened to me or anyone else, the group needed to carry on. Deciding who would be going with the group turned into a heated debate.

  After an hour of bickering, it was decided the party would be made up of four people. Seth, Lowell, Adam and I would venture out for supplies. I couldn’t risk Meg getting hurt, and Nancy would stay back and care for Noelle. Finn was obviously distracted and would be no use to us in the field. The fighting was due to my insistence on accompanying the men. Any idiot could see they were just trying to protect me, but I didn’t need protecting.

  The map of the city still sat unmanned in the Target parking lot, most likely burnt to ash from the explosion. Our only option was to draw one. Adam and I were familiar with Cape Coral. The soldiers, on the other hand, had been dispatched from a base in Tampa. The closest medical supply store was two miles away. On a normal day, it would have taken us minutes to get there. However, without transportation it would be quite a trek on foot.

  Our biggest concern was how to get to land. There was no way to hit the dock nearby. It was teeming with undead. An argument was made to just move the houseboat up the coast but the sound of the engine would just draw them to us again. We decided to take the rowboat and paddle until we found a safe place to dock and tie up the boat.

  All we needed to do was out-row the stragglers that peeled off the main group. The entire plan hinged on that tiny boat holding the four of us plus supplies. It would be tight, but luckily the lack of extra food had shaved some of the extra meat from our bones.

  After we docked the boat we would need to traverse north through neighborhoods to get to the main parkway. Once there, it was a straight shot east to the strip mall that contained our destination. Then we had to acquire the supplies and figure out how to get them back to the boat safely. Piece of cake.

  The atmosphere was heavy with dread. It felt like we were soldiers being shipped off to battle. Which, I guess we were. We set out in the cramped rowboat and it felt like Adam’s skin was burning hot when his arm brushed up against me. We hadn’t spoken since the day before. Sure, we had exchanged tactics and had discussions about our mission, but unsaid words hung in the air around us.

  Seth must have noticed my discomfort because he called me on it. "Awkward much? What’s with you?"

  "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Nothing is with me. I’m embarking on a mission that could get one or all of us killed. Should I be throwing a party or jumping for fucking joy? Excuse me if I don’t seem excited enough for you."

  He snickered at me.

  "WHAT?" I demanded.

  "Someone’s on the rag today."

  I rolled my eyes at him. Why is it that every time a woman gets bitchy, men assume she’s got her period?

  "Whatever, I’m not discussing my menstrual cycle with you. But for the record, I am not on the rag." Come to think of it, I hadn’t gotten my period since before all this. I tried to think back and was sure it had been at least two months. I didn’t give it a second thought though, I was never one of those girls who could set a calendar and choose the correct day their period would hit. I’d even gone six months without getting it before. Factor in the amount of stress I was under plus the weight loss, and it really was an expected outcome.

  The men stopped rowing as we emerged around a bend in the river. We’d reached the area we estimated to be parallel with the store. It was a surreal scene. There were no signs of the infected, and birds actually sung in the trees. I wondered if it was possible the area had been spared. Maybe there were living people in some of the homes. I didn’t get my hopes up.

  We each strapped an empty backpack over our shoulders. Lowell’s pack was bright pink with purple polka dots. We had a field day with that. Things got real as we were leaning against the back of a house while Seth reconnoitered the area for hostiles.

  I jumped a foot straight in the air when a loud slap hit the window behind my head. A disintegrating zombie stood behind the pane. It was licking the glass. I had now seen it all. Black pustules had formed on its tongue and with each swipe of the glass another would burst and leave smears of black goo.

  "Now there’s something you don’t see every day." Adam stood transfixed on the ghastly figure, distorting his face with disgust each time another one burst.

  "I wonder if the snozzberries taste like snozzberries?" Quipped Seth.

  "Yeah," I replied. "I think I peed a little." Let them think I was joking. I knew the truth…I really did pee my pants. Thank God for little favors; only a little dribbled out.

  We moved away from the window and huddled to hear Seth’s plan. "Okay, we’ve got a small cluster about three houses up the street. Our only option is to make a straight run through the next yard and onto the parkway."

  I gawked at him and raised my hands in a what the fuck gesture. "Hold up there, cowboy. So you’re telling us the brilliant plan you’ve come up with is run and hope for the best?"

  "You got something better?"

  "No, I was just asking if that was the best you got."

  "Well thanks for double-checking. Hang on, let me check." He paused and cocked his head to the side. He counted on his fingers and flipped me off. "Yup, best I got."

  "Schmuck." The playful banter really helped alleviate some of the tension, and we all let out a quiet snicker.

  "On three. One. Two. Three."

  We took off around the side of the house, running with every ounce of steam we had. Reaching the sidewalk I tripped over…absolutely nothing. Son of a bitch! I’d done it again. Air had tripped me. I wouldn’t live this one down. Looking up at the group that took notice of my fall, I realized I literally might not live this one down. That lit a fire under my ass, and I got back up and moving.

  Passing through three streets, we stopped to catch our breath behind a wooden fence. We were all out of breath and bent at the waist, panting heavily. The three of them looked at me and burst out laughing. Tension gave way to hysterics, and Seth had tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So I did. I joined in on the laugh at my expense. It took us a few minutes to calm down. We’d lost the group that spotted me and took a breather.

  "So, General Custer, what’s next?" I asked. The house we were crouching behind was the last before the main street. There was no way to see what we were up against without risking detection.

  "Well, we’ve got one option again. Run for the back of
the strip mall and hope this place has a back entrance." Seth replied.

  "Once again, your tactical genius astounds me. Well then, what are we waiting for?" I said. We mounted bayonets onto our carbines and got ready to make our move. We made the run without detection and any unnecessary flesh wounds. I did a little jig when I saw that the medical supply store did indeed have a back door. Of course, it was locked. Given our track record, I don’t know that I should have expected anything less. Seth eyed a small window next to the door and then looked me up and down.

  "Fuck, you’re sizing me up for that window, aren’t you?" I asked.

  "Can’t get anything by you, can I, Captain Obvious?"

  "Yeah, yeah, let’s just do this already," I said as he wrapped the backpack around his hand and broke the window. Glass tinkled to the floor and we all cringed. Peering through the frame, I was relieved to find nothing moving in to take a bite from me and handed my pack to Adam. I reluctantly thought about Kat and my attempts to save her. I shook off the dark thoughts and shimmied through the window with my weapon at the ready.

  I had entered a small office at the back of the store. There was a closed door on the far wall. A single desk and office chair furnished the room, a space that smelled like ass mixed with a sickly sweet aroma. A corpse sat slumped to one side in the chair. Candy wrappers and empty water bottles surrounded the chair. On further inspection, I could tell this was a man. His body was emaciated, eyes sunken in. He hadn’t bloated yet, so I could only guess that he died recently.

  The lack of anything edible in the room made me suspect he died from starvation. I wasn’t taking any chances. I inched my way slowly around the desk and poked him with the bayonet. He remained still. Hmm, food for thought. At least we now knew that dying a regular death didn’t bring someone back. I guessed that sweet scent was the corpse. I found the smell of ass behind his chair. He’d evidently been using his trash barrel as a toilet. It was kind of like a train wreck. You don’t want to look, but you can’t stop yourself. I made the crucial error of looking in the trash. Maggots wriggled through it.