by Jon Schafer
Cage weighed his options.
On the one hand he had Doctor Hawkins and his Malectron, something he had seen the results of first hand. Connors had told him they were using it at the base. If the lack of pursuit of Jones and his team, coupled with the way the dead stayed away from the compound, were any indication of its capabilities, it seemed to work. The downside was that it didn’t eradicate the dead. It was a weapon that could be used against humans.
As a firm believer in American military might, he felt a thrill at the thought of such a weapon, but only if it were used for the right purposes.
On the other hand, he had Doctor Connors and her…
At this he stopped and thought, shit, she doesn’t even have a name for her anti-virus. If it did as she claimed, it wouldn’t cure the dead but would kill them off with some kind of hemorrhagic fever. This is what they’d hoped for from the beginning, something to wipe out the plague of dead feeding on the living. But was she for real?
Cage looked Doctor Connors in the eye. All he could see was a woman who simply wanted to help. He found no deception in her gaze. At the very least, he’d found out what was really going on at the farmhouse, so his meeting with her wasn’t a total loss.
Making a decision based on his gut instinct, he said, “I’ll help you, Doctor.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The San Jacinto River:
Steve and Heather looked for any signs of life on an oil derrick as The Usual Suspects slowly motored past. The ones closer to Texas City had been nothing but twisted hunks of metal, but as they neared the mouth of the river, they could see that the fires and explosions hadn’t reached this far. Even the buildings along the shoreline had gone from mounds of rubble, to half destroyed structures, and then to a residential area that looked mostly intact, just deserted of anything living.
With the sun beaming down through a cloudless sky, they could have been on a Sunday afternoon pleasure cruise if it wasn’t for the dead mobbing the waterline.
Heather lowered her binoculars and said, “Nobody’s on that one, but someone spray painted a sign on one of the buildings.”
Steve swung his gaze to where she had been looking and read the bright red letters:
ABANDONED 12/15
DEAD EVERYWHERE
GOING TO SAN ANTONIO
“I wonder what made them head for San Antonio?” Steve wondered out loud. Turning to Tick-Tock, he asked, “Do you remember if there are any military bases there?”
“I was in the Marines,” he reminded him. “I was stationed at Camp Pendleton and Quantico. You were in the Army, don’t you remember?”
Steve shook his head and replied, “Too many years ago and too many forts and bases to keep track of. I was always on the northeast coast of the States or in Europe. I’d hear people talk about being stationed at different places, but I never paid much attention. They were mostly drinking and whoring stories anyway.”
“Which I’m sure you have an abundance of,” Heather said with mock disgust.
Creating a circle by putting his forefingers and thumbs together and holding it over his head like a halo, he replied, “I always conducted myself like a gentleman, ma’am.”
Heather was about to reply when Brain interrupted her by saying, “There’s an island coming up ahead. If I was trying to get away from the dead, that’s where I’d go.”
Tick-Tock studied the chart laid out on the deck and said, “That’ll be Atkinson Island. Keep us in the shipping channel on the left, Pork Chop. We’ll pass by close enough to check it out.”
Since leaving the floating pyre of dead, they had watched the shoreline and oil derricks that dotted the area for any sign of life, hoping to find someone they could talk to and get some idea of where they might put ashore. They kept their weapons at the ready, their experience with the pirates in the Gulf still fresh in their minds, but they hadn’t seen anything except the dead wandering along the shore and through the remains of the city.
Scanning the island with her binoculars, Heather said, “I don’t see anything except marsh, rocks and trees. If I was going to pick a place to hole up, I’d pick somewhere else.”
“Looks pretty desolate,” Steve agreed. “There’re some more islands further on, and a bridge. You can just make it out. Maybe we’ll see someone there.”
Atkinson Island slid by on their right and was replaced by Hog Island. It too, was void of life. They had now entered the river itself and could see the bridge clearly, its double span packed with cars and trucks parked haphazardly from one end to another. Some had their doors wide open while others were closed up, all of them abandoned by their owners when the dead came for them.
Seeing nothing on the bridge, Steve turned his attention to the area on the right. When he’d studied the charts earlier, he’d seen this marked as Baytown, a mix of residential and light industrial with an abundance of waterfront homes and businesses. This was where he hoped to put ashore. The dead tended to congregate where there was food, so if this area was abandoned by the living long enough ago, it might be free of Z’s.
At first hopeful when he saw that the area was deserted, he was quickly discouraged when the dead appeared as if from nowhere to watch them as they passed. Soon there were hundreds of them lining the docks and shore, moaning and reaching out in hunger. Some stepped off and disappeared into the bay, only to be replaced by new arrivals.
Steve shook his head in disgust at the gruesome sight then asked, “Where in the hell are they all coming from?”
“You just said it,” Tick-Tock told him. “Hell.”
Steve snorted a laugh and said, “I mean, what’s bringing them out? It can’t be sound because there’s no way they can hear the engine from that far off.”
“Maybe its movement,” Heather suggested.
Steve said with disgust. “Whatever it is, it’s got us screwed.”
“Probably not smell since we’re downwind,” Tick-Tock commented. “I’d have to guess Heather’s right. We’re probably the first thing to come through here in weeks…maybe months, so they’re coming out to see if we’re edible.”
Before passing under the bridge, they readied their weapons. A few of the dead could be seen wandering its span, so they wanted to be prepared in case one of them dropped down and landed on the boat. Out of the few that noticed them, only two leaned too far over the rail in their never-ending quest for food as the boat passed beneath them. They both fell into the water off the port side of The Usual Suspects.
On the far side of the bridge, the current picked up in the channel to the right of Alexander Island, and they had a difficult time pushing against it. The sailboat shuddered and shimmied as Brain increased the throttle to continue making headway. When they were finally through and back into calmer waters, he noticed a red warning light flashing on the control panel. Fear crept in when he read the label below it.
Trying to keep his voice even, he said, “We’ve got flooding in the forward compartment. Don’t know how bad it is, but it’s more than the pumps can handle.”
“Throttle back and turn our stern into the current,” Tick-Tock called out to him as he and Steve went below.
The galley was dry, but upon entering the main sleeping area, they both felt the squish of the water soaked carpet under their feet. They found Connie standing by her bunk with a terrified expression on her face. When she saw them, she said, “I just noticed the floor was wet a second ago when I got up to go to the bathroom. Are we sinking?”
Ignoring her question, Steve said, “Everyone get topside.” Pointing to where Cindy had pushed herself into the corner of her bunk at the mention of the boat going down, he added, “Take her with you. Make sure you have life jackets for both of you.”
“So we are sinking,” she said with fear in her voice.
Before he could answer, Mary said in a condescending manner, “Oh great, I escape one sinking ship and here I am on another. You need to do something about this, Steve. I just took a shower and I’m not ge
tting in that stinking water.”
Fear turned to anger and Steve yelled, “Get your ass topside or swimming in the bay will be the least of your worries!”
Never having had him talk to her this way, Mary caught on that the situation was serious. She held up her hands and hung her head to show she was being compliant as she exited the compartment.
Tick-Tock called out that he was going topside to check the hull as Steve went forward to check the compartment that he and Heather shared.
He entered his room and found the floor awash in an inch of water. Checking the bulkheads, he couldn’t see any cracks or holes but knew this didn’t mean anything. The sailboat had a double hull, and with the signpost stuck in its outer section and the space in between filling with water, the leak could be anywhere. Steve knew there was little he could do below, so he went on deck to join Tick-Tock.
As he came up the ladder he heard Heather calling for towels and rags. Grabbing a double handful of dirty laundry from a hamper, he raced on deck and moved quickly toward the bow where he found Heather holding Tick-Tock’s legs as he hung over the side. Steve called for Brain, then had the tech sit on his legs as he bent at the waist and joined his friend.
Hanging upside down, Tick-Tock’s voice took on a nasal quality as he said, “The post shifted sideways from the force of the current.” Pointing at a two-foot long gash in the hull, visible just below the waterline, he added, “then it ripped free, and that’s why we’re taking on so much water.”
Handing over a wad of shirts and pants, Steve could see they’d need a lot more than that to plug the leak. Everything Tick-Tock shoved into the hole was being sucked into the gap between the two hulls. He considered using a cooler top or some other flat object but saw they had no way to secure it in place. They needed waterproof fabric, and a lot of it. He called for Brain to pull him back up, then headed to where the mainsail was furled around the boom. Grabbing Tick-Tock’s K-bar knife from where it was wedged in its sheath on the dashboard above the wheel, he cut away the covering on the sail and slashed at the ties holding it.
Brain had followed him, and with Connie’s help they started pulling the nylon loose. When he felt he had enough, Steve cut long strips of fabric that Brain gathered and took forward to Tick-Tock. Feeding it to him as he hung over the side, the gaping hole in the hull was slowly plugged.
Steve helped Heather pull Tick-Tock up. Dizzy from hanging upside down for so long, he couldn’t stand and dropped to the deck. While he recovered, Steve leaned over the side and examined his friend’s work. A few yards of red sail floated in the current, but it appeared that the hole had been plugged. There would still be leakage, but hopefully not too much for the pumps to handle.
Steve checked the area around them to make sure they hadn’t drifted close to land and could see Bay Town and a huge oil storage facility on his right and the outskirts of Houston on his left. While they had been busy plugging the hole, hundreds of the dead had converged on the shore. As he watched, dozens entered the water and slogged forward in an effort to reach them, continuing until they disappeared into its murky depth.
Shuddering at the thought of what might already be below them, Steve asked, “How much further do you think we can make it?”
From his position on the deck, Tick-Tock replied, “Not much. Even at slow speed we’re going to be taking on water. We need to find a spot to go ashore or we need to find another boat.”
Going ashore and making their way on foot was out of question, so they’re only option was to find another boat. Steve held out his hand to Tick-Tock and helped him to his feet. Together they went to the cockpit where Steve picked up the chart as everyone gathered around.
He glanced up several times as he compared it with what he could see on shore but found nothing in the immediate vicinity that might harbor a boat. Looking back at the chart, he saw that further up, the river branched off. The right fork headed north into a residential section while to the west laid a more industrial area.
He pointed to the left fork saying, “I think we should try this way.”
“But don’t you think we’d have better luck in Bay Town?” Brain asked. “With all the waterfront homes through there, we’re sure to find something.”
Steve shook his head. “If anyone in that area had a boat, they used it to beat feet when all this started. I think we’ll have better luck looking for a small commercial ship. Something corporate owned that everyone forgot about when the shit hit the fan.”
Tick-Tock pulled out a satellite overlay that matched the chart and started tracing the route of the river with his finger. “It looks like there’s a lot of oil storage areas through there. Taking an oil tanker is out of the question, but I’d bet a lot of those companies kept a run-around to shuttle their people.”
“Then that’s where we need to try first,” Heather told them. “It makes sense for a few reasons. One, we’re more likely to find a boat, and two, all those refineries and storage places were high security areas because of the terrorist threat. That means they have fences around them.”
Steve picked up on her train of thought, adding, “And that means there were less people around to be infected, maybe no one at all. So far we’ve been passing mostly open and residential areas, that’s why there are so many Z’s. They died, came back and stayed pretty much where they were. But if we go into an area that had no population to begin with, we’ll have a better chance of finding something.”
From the shore, a low whining sound rose as if in answer to Steve’s question. Noticing they had drifted close to a pier teeming with the walking dead, he asked Tick-Tock, “Think we can make it that far?”
Following Steve’s gaze, he said, “Doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.”
***
Twice they had to stop and let the pumps catch up with the water seeping in through the bow, so it was near dark when they finally reached the fork in the river. Both times they’d halted, the current was so strong they had to drop anchor so they wouldn’t drift into the rocks and marsh along the shore. As they made their way slowly up the shipping channel, they noticed that the area they were passing through had fewer dead lining its shore. On their left was a park and on their right some uninhabited islands, further proving Heather’s theory that the less populated an area was before Dead Day, the less populated it was likely to be now.
Approaching the spot where they would turn, they came across the area where the ferry shuttled people back and forth between the park and the road leading to Bay Town. With dark setting in fast, they started looking for a place to anchor for the night. On the chart they found a slight inlet close by that would keep them out of the channel and had water deep enough to handle the sailboat. As they rounded the bend in the river, they spotted a large cabin cruiser already moored there. At first excited, since this was the first boat they’d seen that wasn’t half sunk or burned to the waterline, their joy quickly evaporated when they saw a dozen dead crowding the rail. Dressed in everything from bathing suits to tuxedos, this odd assortment of clothing made no sense until Tick-Tock came up with a theory.
“Might have been an end of the world party,” he commented.
Heather looked at him curiously, so he explained, “Near the end, there was all kinds of crazy shit going on. You were a cop, Heather, so I’m sure you saw your share of it, people partying and living life to the fullest since they would probably be dead the next day. Remember how many people requested ‘The End of the World’ by REM at the radio station? Looks like some rich guy got a bunch of his friends together and threw one last, big bash on his yacht. They came out here to have a good time and didn’t know they had someone infected on board.”
Eyeing the boat, Steve said, “If we could get it running, that could be our new ride. There are only a few Z’s on it; we could handle them no problem.”
“It’s a possibility,” Tick-Tock said, “but you’re looking at a lot of ifs. I’m sure by now the batteries are run down so we’d
have to figure out how to jump-start it. And then there’s fuel. Unless we board her, we have no idea how much is left in her tanks.” Pointing at the fuel caddies they had taken from The Dead Calm, he added, “And we have gasoline. With a boat that big, it’s going to run on diesel.”
“It’s something to keep in mind though,” Heather said.
“We definitely want to consider it,” Tick-Tock said, “but let’s look around first. We might come across some easier pickings.” He pointed at the dead who whined at them in hunger, adding, “Besides, it’s not like they’re going to be sailing it off into the sunset any time soon.”
Deciding they didn’t want to spend the night near a boatload of the dead and the noise they would make with fresh meat nearby, Steve and Tick-Tock studied the chart to locate another place to anchor for the night. Steve pointed to a man-made inlet only a little further up the river, “This looks promising. It’s labeled the Battleship Texas. I think I remember reading about it. It’s an old decommissioned warship on display. It’s off the river and might make a good base to go scavenging from.”
Tick-Tock folded the chart and said, “Only one way to find out.”
Night had fallen when they set out again. Deciding not to advertise their presence by turning their running lights on, they slid through the water like a phantom. To their right, a few isolated fires burned, giving off a weak glow; to their left, was the darkness of the park. Here, the San Jacinto Monument was visible as it reached upward. In the distance beyond that, a glow from the fire they had started when they set part of the bay alight, reflected off a bank of low clouds that had moved in. They were near enough to their destination that they could see the outline of the huge warship as they rounded a piece of land that jutted out into the river. With the electric switch permanently thrown off in the area, it stood out in stark relief against the sky.
That made it easy to see the beams from flashlights crisscrossing its decks.
