by Jon Schafer
DEAD WEIGHT
By
Jon Schafer
Book Three of The Dead Series
Copyright 2013 by Jon Schafer
Cover Design by: Jon Schafer
Special Thanks to:
Susan Herkness for her mad editing skills. https://www.facebook.com/susan.herkness.
Gunners Mate, Icky Squirrelz and Sparta Beowolf of Zombie chat on Facebook for their weapons knowledge and technical assistance.
Yes Icky, one day duct tape will save the world.
Visit Jon Schafer’s website at http://www.jonscatbooks.com
Find him on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jon.schafer.94
Watch the promo video for The Dead Series on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0i5CF9QbWY
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Dead Weight: An oppressive burden or difficulty.
CHAPTER ONE
The Gulf of Mexico:
The small boat was riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood stains when they found it. Two bodies floated nearby, suspended by their lifejackets in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico as a school of small fish fed off them. Steve Wendell, Tick-Tock and Heather Johansen took in the scene from the forward deck of The Usual Suspects, the sailboat they had used to escape the living dead populating Clearwater Florida and later a cruise ship full of religious nuts and zombies.
“Z’s didn’t do this,” Tick-Tock stated in a flat voice as he scanned the empty water around them. “Look at the bullet holes. I’m not going to dive in and flip those bodies over, but I watched a lot of CSI on TV and it looks like they were shot in the back. Some wannabe Black Beard is playing pirate.”
“Look how fresh the blood is.” Heather said as she pointed to a large stain of red smeared across the gunwale that was slowly congealing and turning brown. “This only happened a few hours ago. The bodies haven’t even attracted many predators yet.”
“While they were living they did,” Steve commented. He turned and went aft as he called out, “Brain, get behind the wheel and crank up the motor. Go due east until Tick-Tock gives you a heading. Start watching for channel markers.”
“Are we that close?” Brain asked as he sidestepped around Connie and headed toward the steering station.
“We should see land within the hour,” Tick-Tock told him as he followed Steve, already knowing where he was going.
The two men headed down to the cabin where their supplies and weapons had been stored. Tick-Tock opened a storage cabinet while Steve stood off to one side. Together they removed the fifty-caliber machine gun salvaged off a National Guard MRAP after its crew had been killed and eaten. Almost too heavy to be carried alone, the two men lugged the weapon up the ladder and laid it on a piece of canvas Heather had laid out on the deck.
Tick-Tock checked on Brain and had him adjust his heading by a few degrees. He climbed down the ladder again and passed Steve, who was rummaging in a storage locker for the Hilti powder actuated nail gun they’d brought along. Reaching the sleeping area, Tick-Tock lifted the top of his bunk bed to get at the two cases of ammunition stored in the compartment underneath. He paused a moment, his heart growing heavy as his thoughts drifted to Susan, a woman in their group he had cared for a great deal. From what he had pieced together, it appeared that she had become infected by one of the living dead on the cruise ship and had taken her own life rather than turn into one of the flesheaters. They’d only been together a short time, but nonetheless, he’d planned on asking her to go with him when he eventually split from the group. Since he’d lost her, he had felt listless, as if he was simply going through life on autopilot.
He shook the memories of her away, saying softly, “You better keep your head and your ass wired together, or you’ll be joining her.”
Refocusing on their present situation, Tick-Tock felt adrenalin shoot through him as he contemplated what they faced. The threat was not reanimated corpses this time, but living people bent on killing them and pillaging The Usual Suspects. His group had found out the hard way when they boarded The Calm of the Seas, that in a world where the dead challenged the living for control of the earth, the flesh eating dead weren’t their only threat.
They had spotted the cruise ship after many days adrift and lost in the Gulf of Mexico; their sails had been useless in the still air and their supply of water nearly gone. The group renamed the cruise ship the ‘Dead Calm’ when they saw that most of its decks were swarming with zombies. After boarding the ship, they discovered that there were more dead secured in the forward cabin areas, but the remaining sections had held something just as bad.
Religious zealots, awaiting the rapture and led by a charlatan named Reverend Ricky.
Nightly, Ricky preached to his followers, the Faithful, about the rapture. Then they gathered, waiting for God to lift them up to Heaven. And every evening, when the rapture failed to happen, the Faithful held a drunken orgy so they could sin more with the hope of being redeemed the next night. This could have gone on for some time since they had plenty of supplies, but the problem was, the ship was slowly sinking.
When Steve and his group arrived, the Reverend Ricky had seen his chance to escape the sinking ship by killing them and taking their sailboat. But he failed miserably and ended up paying with his life, as well as the lives of many others.
Including Susan.
Tick-Tock lifted the ammunition cases and returned topside. Wedging them into a corner of the cockpit where they wouldn’t slide around, he bent over to move the .50 into position so they could secure it to the transom. Unless the pirates had taken over a Coast Guard cutter, in which case they were screwed, anyone seeing the heavy machine gun would know not to fuck with them.
Seeing what he was doing, Steve said, “Not yet, Tick-Tock.”
He gave his friend a curious look, so Steve explained; “I want them to get in close before we open up. I don’t want them to see the .50 until it’s too late. Keep the other weapons out of sight too.”
Tick-Tock straightened up and asked, “Why don’t we put everything in plain view and let them know what we have?”
“Because we’re going to take these assholes out,” Steve replied. “If we don’t, they’re going to continue to prey on everyone who comes through here.”
Tick-Tock sighed. Here we go again. Just like on the Dead Calm when Steve and Heather wanted to save the followers of Reverend Ricky, the same people who would have killed them if Ricky had ordered it. They had only sailed out into the Gulf hoping they could get Cindy, a little girl in their group who was immune to the HWNW virus, to a facility where she could be studied and possibly help scientists trying to find a cure. Yet they ended up saving a bunch of dumbasses that weren’t even trying to save themselves.
“It’s not our battle,” he said in a flat voice, making his feelings on the subject clear.
Heather, standing next to Brain at the wheel, said, “It is now.”
Tick-Tock flushed in anger, fighting to hold back the comment that Heather wasn’t a cop anymore. There were no cops. Not since the dead started coming back to life. Now it was sink or swim, and Tick-Tock considered himself Michael Phelps. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Since losing Susan, it seemed as if he’d been on edge constantly. He knew his irritation had little to do with the situation, but he still wanted his opinion known.
With a frown, he said, “I have no problem going balls to the wall for any one of us,” he paused before continuing, “- except Mary
, but I’m not too hot on risking my ass for a bunch of people I don’t know and don’t give a shit about. Look at how we’re doing, we’re armed and ready for anything. There’s a shitload of weapons out there that anyone can pick up and use to defend themselves.”
“What about kids and the elderly?” Heather replied.
This stopped Tick-Tock. Okay, valid point. He shrugged and said, “So how do you want to do it?”
***
Tick-Tock and Steve stood atop the cabin as they searched the expanse of deep blue water around them. Steve called down to Brain, “Hold this course for another half hour and then do a one-eighty.”
They had been paralleling the coast of Galveston for six hours now, first north and then south.
Tick-Tock called it “trolling”.
They were only three or four miles off shore when they began to catch an occasional glimpse of land, a dark brown smudge in the distance. After having been on the water for weeks, it was a welcome sight, and everyone came up on deck to take a look. With nothing to see though, it quickly lost its glamour. In one’s and two’s they went below to get out of the sun.
Steve let his binoculars drop to hang around his neck by its strap as he rubbed his eyes. Rolling his head around to relieve the tension in his neck, he let out a small groan.
Tick-Tock glanced at him and asked, “Ready to give up? Head in and find out what’s left of the city?”
Steve shook his head and replied, “We’ll give it until dark.”
“You’re not planning on landing in a city full of Z’s at night, are you?”
“We can anchor offshore and land in the morning,” Steve told him. “That way we’ll have the rising sun behind us. Whoever killed those people might have headed in and be waiting for us. GPS is out but radar still works.”
“The sun is a good idea. I’ll take any advantage I can get,” Tick-Tock said, and then added, “I wonder if they’re tracking us right now? They might get suspicious since we keep going back and forth.”
Steve shrugged. “They might, but I doubt it. Lots of people hit the water when everything went to hell, and they weren’t all experienced sailors. It probably just looks like we’re lost, trying to find the channel or a place to land. Heather went down to the marina a day or two before everything fell apart to do traffic control. She told me that someone blew his ass up trying to refuel a boat. Said it was a complete clusterfuck with ships running into each other as they all tried to get out of the city. You need a license to drive but any dumbass can hop in a boat.”
“That’s one thing I always wondered about,” Tick-Tock said. “Why’d so many people wait until the last minute to take off? You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that everything was falling apart. When you asked me to throw in with you at the station, I’d already stockpiled food and water at my house and had plenty of ammo. I had storm panels I was going to put up over all the doors and windows. Even had my truck gassed up in case I had to haul ass, and a route mapped out on how to get to the Everglades by back roads.”
Steve didn’t even have to think about an answer. He’d often wondered the same thing since Dead Day and had come to the conclusion that most Americans had gotten away from having to be self-reliant.
“Too much trust in the government,” he answered. “No matter what happened, the feds would step in and fix the problem. Too many people relied on someone else to take care of them. Then you have all the diseases they found cures for. Everyone became complacent, and they ended up paying for it. When the HWNW virus broke out, they thought it was just another disease, like AIDS or the clap. I was watching the news one day and they were assuring the public that the government had their top scientists working on the problem, and a cure was imminent. A lot of people believed them, and they paid for it too.”
Tick-Tock nodded thoughtfully and said, “You’re right, I don’t think anyone really believed that people were dying and coming back to life to take a bite out of their ass until it actually happened.”
“I know when Heather told me what was really going on, I just accepted it,” Steve said. “Weirded me out for a second or two, but I got over it. I went into survival mode and didn’t think about the reasons behind it.”
Tick-Tock laughed. “Freaked me out too, but then I got set up to make it through. I guess that’s why we’re standing here alive and not walking around dead. We didn’t believe the crap the news was putting out or trust that the feds were going to make the problem go away. A lot of people thought all the stuff on the Internet was a hoax at first, too. By the time they believed it though, it was too late, they were getting chewed on by their neighbor.”
The two men fell silent as they raised their binoculars to scan the horizon.
Steve was glad that Tick-Tock was talking in sentences of more than one syllable. Since Susan had died, he’d worried about his friend. Wondering how he would take it if Heather died in that way, or any way, he shuddered at the thought.
He was about to try a new line of conversation when Tick-Tock said, “Ship off the starboard bow.”
Steve spun around and adjusted the focus as he sought his target. A small shape jumped in and out of view until he synced his body to the rocking of the sailboat. Now he could see it better, a dark triangle stood out in relief against the water. He could even make out the spray kicking up at its bow.
“I might be going out on a limb here, but I’d say that’s not the welcome wagon,” Tick-Tock said dryly.
“He’s really hauling ass,” Steve said. Already he could make out details of the boat coming towards them. He turned and yelled to Brain, “We’ve got company.” Leaning down, he slapped his hand against the top of the cabin to let the others know it was show time.
Heather, Connie and Sheila came up on deck, all three wearing swimsuits. Connie immediately caught the men’s attention as she had the build of a playboy centerfold, and her bikini left little to the imagination. She walked over to Brain and wrapped her arms around him. She had lost her parents and little brother on the Dead Calm and now clung to the tech like he was going to disappear into thin air at any second.
Steve diverted his eyes from Connie to Heather. Smiling at her, he said, “Nice body, babe.”
Looking down at the light blue two-piece she wore and then back up at him, she said, “Just keep your eyes focused where they belong and nowhere else.”
“I only have eyes for you,” he started to croon as he climbed down into the cockpit.
Heather had been the one to come up with their plan on how to draw the pirates in close. She told them about the Q-ships used during World War I, rust bucket tramp steamers used to lure German submarines to their death. Since these ships looked like sitting ducks, the U-boat captains didn’t want to waste their limited number of torpedoes and would surface so they could use the deck gun on them. When this happened, the bulkheads of the Q-ship dropped away to reveal their own guns, and the hunter quickly became the prey.
Decades later, the bait had changed, but the principle remained the same.
Steve looked in the direction of the boat coming toward them and saw that it was clearly visible now without binoculars. Crouching down below the gunwales, he motioned for Tick-Tock and Brain to do the same. If they could see the pirates, the pirates could see them. Sheila took the wheel and steered the sailboat away from the approaching craft so their stern was facing it.
Looking at her, Steve decided she didn’t look half bad in a bikini. She caught his eye and smiled, mouthing the word, ‘pervert,’ at him. He laughed and decided that adding Sheila to the group had been one of the good things to come from going aboard the Dead Calm. He still wanted to strangle her sometimes, but overall she was an asset.
A whining voice came from the hatch leading below. “Why do I have to babysit? I look just as good in a swimsuit as anyone else. Probably better.”
For every asset there had to be a debit, Steve thought. In this case, that would be Mary.
Sheila called out
, “You just stay down there where it’s safe and look after Cindy, toots.”
Steve had seen Sheila and Mary gravitating to each other, but whether or not they were a couple was anyone’s guess. Mary swung that way and Sheila swung every way, so it was likely.
Not that it’s any of my business, he thought. Whatever floats your boat.
Turning his mind back to task, he asked Heather, “What do you see?”
Without removing the binoculars from her eyes, she replied, “Looks like one of those cigarette boats like they had on Miami Vice. He’s really hauling ass, and he’s right on our tail. I can see four people in the cockpit. I can’t make out if they have weapons though.”
Knowing the accuracy of the .50 would be hindered by the rocking of the sailboat, Steve said, “Let me know when they’re about a hundred yards out. Draw them in as close as you can.”
Heather turned and made a show of motioning for Sheila to go faster. It wasn’t an Academy Award performance but it would do. Turning back, she looked through the binoculars for a few seconds before saying, “I can see weapons now. They’re all armed with rifles.”
A small, nagging thought came to Steve. What if the cigarette boat was some kind of coastal patrol set up by the survivors in Galveston? But then why are they chasing us? Maybe just chasing us off?
His worries were dispelled when the radio crackled to life and a voice said, “Hey little chickies, I see you. Big daddy’s got something for you. If you stop the boat, I won’t put it where it hurts.”
This was followed by crude laughter, so Sheila cut it short by reaching over and hitting the off switch. With a scowl she said, “But what I have for you will definitely hurt, no matter where I put it.”
“They’re about five hundred yards out and still coming fast,” Heather called.
“Good deal,” Steve replied. “Even if they see our guns right away, they’ll be moving so fast that they’ll have to make a wide turn or flip her.”
