The Dead Series (Book 3): Dead Weight

by Jon Schafer

Idling back the engine, Tick-Tock said, “It looks like someone had the same idea we did.”

  As they watched, one by one the lights were extinguished. In the still air, excited voices could be heard coming across the water. Straining to hear what they said, Steve found them unintelligible.

  “Looks like they spotted us,” Heather said.

  This was confirmed by a loud booming voice that challenged, “Who are you?”

  After considering his answer, Steve called back, “Survivors.”

  “We’re all survivors. What do you want?” The voice asked.

  Not wanting to give away how bad their situation was, Steve called out, “We’re looking for a military base or a relief center. Somewhere safe.” In a lower voice he said to Tick-Tock, “Get ready to get us out of here fast. Everyone else, get ready to lay down covering fire.”

  After a minute, the voice came back. “There’s nowhere safe around here. The last relief center was overrun months ago. They had a radio, and before it went offline, we heard that the Army base in San Antonio was up and running and they were taking people in.”

  This was good news. Finally they might have a destination.

  Steve called out, “We mean you no harm but we need some information. What else do you know about this Army base? We can try going there.”

  This was met by laughter. “The only way into San Antonio is I10, and that’s full of abandoned cars. It’s the world’s biggest traffic jam. That, and the groups of dead walking around, will make it a short trip. If you want to go, that’s on you. The base is called Fort Sam Houston and there are a couple Air Force bases around there too.”

  Steve was about to thank the speaker and tell Tick-Tock to move on when the voice called out, “You wouldn’t happen to have any water to spare, would you?”

  Steve considered this. They had stocked up on supplies before leaving The Dead Calm and had plenty of water, but who would they be giving it too? So far, the other survivors they’d run into since leaving Clearwater had only wanted to kill them and take what they had. Were these people any different? Was asking for water a con to get them in close where they could be ambushed?

  Looking at the imposing bulk of the battleship, Steve was about to decline when the voice called out, “We can trade you for it.”

  Now this was something different.

  He could see where the walkway leading from the shore to the main deck had been removed, meaning that whoever was on the ship had probably been there for a long time; maybe since Dead Day. Even if they had only been aboard a short time, they had to have some way to get back and forth. Looking at what he could see of the hull, he spied some dark shapes moored near it but couldn’t be sure what they were. They could be a couple of boats, but the shapes seemed wrong.

  Deciding to take a chance, he called out, “I’m not doing anything in the dark. If we trade, it’ll be in the morning.”

  “Don’t blame you,” the voice called back. “Not everyone’s honest. There are pirates around here.”

  “I know,” Steve said, “we ran into some of them.”

  “Looks like you came out the better,” the voice said.

  “And they came out the worse,” Steve replied.

  “Until the morning then,” the voice said.

  With that, the conversation was over.

  ***

  Steve, Tick-Tock, Heather and Brain watched as dawn lit the area. While Steve stood in the open with Brain, Heather and Tick-Tock stayed in the shadows of the hatch leading below. Both held their rifles at the ready and aimed at the stern of the ship. The indistinct shape of the Battleship Texas took on form as night fled before the rising sun. Its massive size became apparent, along with something else. Moored along its side were two pontoon boats and what appeared to be a miniature tugboat.

  Tick-Tock said, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Those pontoons have a shallow draft that can get us in anywhere. The one closest to us has a forty horse outboard on it, so power won’t be a problem, but I can’t quite see the other one. What can you see?”

  Steve raised his binoculars but found the tugboat blocked his view. Switching his gaze to the decks of the battleship, he could clearly see the massive guns of its rear battery. Thankful that they were inactive, he scanned the area for the man he’d spoken with the night before.

  After a few minutes, a lone figure appeared and stood at the rail. Steve waved his hand in greeting while looking him over from head to toe. In his late forties, he had a heavy growth of beard. This matched what he said about needing water, since water to shave would be a low priority. He wore jeans and a polo shirt that appeared new. This meant he had easy access to clothing. Doubting he’d brought them with him, Steve surmised he made regular foraging trips into the city. After all, as Mary often said, the stores were open and everyone’s credit was unlimited.

  The figure gave a half wave in return and called out, “What’s your name?”

  “Steve. What’s yours?”

  “Sean.”

  The formalities over, Steve jumped right in by saying, “We have water to trade. What do you have?”

  “What do you need?” Sean called back.

  This was an open question that he didn’t want to answer. If he gave up too much information on how bad their situation was, he’d give up any bargaining power he had.

  Staying non-committal, Steve shrugged and answered, “We can always use ammunition. These days it seems you can’t have enough.”

  This garnered a laugh from Sean. “Yeah, I hear you. I’ve got no ammo to spare though.”

  Hearing that Sean’s ammunition was limited was good news, unless he was bluffing. Steve eyed the superstructure of the warship, easily spotting a dozen places where snipers could be hidden. He knew what a strong motivator thirst was, so deciding to cut to the chase, said, “I was looking at your pontoon boat...”

  Even from a distance of two hundred feet, Steve could see the man’s posture shift. His head tilted to one side and he seemed to stiffen.

  Sean said, “Before we go there, who are you? You said your name is Steve but that doesn’t tell me anything. You said last night you’re trying to find a relief center, but that could be so much BS. If I’m going to trade with someone, I like to know him. There are a lot of low-lifes on the river, and I refuse to trade with anyone who’s up to no good. Some of the locals have tried to get our boats so they could raid the ships that pass through here. I won’t have anyone getting hurt because of something I do.”

  Steve considered this for a moment. Sean could be bullshitting, but he didn’t think so. With his slightly superior tone and self-righteous expression, he seemed genuinely concerned that what he traded wasn’t going to be used for immoral purposes. He’d dealt with the type before. Some called them the ‘do gooders’ or ‘bleeding hearts’. In a few ways he knew he fit into this category, and he always tried to help those in need when he could. But he didn’t agree that some people should do all the work, while others forced them to share the rewards with those who felt entitled to the benefits.

  Hoping he was doing the right thing, Steve replied, “My full name is Steve Wendell. Before D-Day I used to manage a radio station in Clearwater, Florida. We’re trying to find a safe place for a lot of reasons, the biggest one being that we don’t want something taking a big bite out of the better part of our asses. We don’t screw anyone who isn’t trying to screw us, and all we want is to be on our way. We’re looking for a better boat than what we have so we can land somewhere upriver and make our way overland to an aid station. And as for pirates, we took on a boat full of them out in the Gulf.” Pointing to the .50 caliber heavy machine gun still mounted on the stern, he added, “They were in a cigarette boat that suddenly found itself full of holes.”

  As Sean took this in with a cringe, Steve could see he was repelled by the thought of someone dying at the hands of others. He seemed to be struggling with something as he searched for a reply. He started to shake his head and opened his mouth to
speak, but a female voice from the background cut him off.

  Steve tried to hear what she was saying, but the distance was too great. As he watched, Sean hung his head in a resigned way as the woman’s voice rose in volume. He replied once or twice to what she said, but it looked like he was losing the argument. The woman’s voice kept up for a full minute but finally tapered off when Sean held up both hands in a show of surrender.

  His shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned back to Steve, and he took a deep breath before saying, “Maybe we can make a deal. We have a situation here that we need some help with. It’s a little hard to explain, but -.”

  Sean was interrupted by the woman’s voice again. This time clearly saying, “Just tell them. Jesus, you’re such a limp rag.”

  Sean opened his mouth to speak but was cut off again by the sudden appearance of what Steve took to be the owner of the mystery voice. A woman in her early thirties, carrying what looked like an old M-1 carbine, joined Sean at the rail and called out, “Are you really heading for an aide station?”

  Steve called back, “The closest one we can find.”

  “Maybe we can make a deal then. You need a boat, and we need someone to help us get somewhere safe.”

  Steve hesitated, so the woman abruptly said, “Don’t try bull-shitting me. I can see from here that you’re taking on water.” Motioning with her rifle, she said, “Your bow is sitting lower than your stern, so my guess is you holed it coming through all the crap blocking the pass to the Gulf. Besides that, I have a night vision scope and I saw you screwing around with it out there last night. Stuffing strips of your sail into the hole. From what else I can see, you’ve got six people on board. One of them is a little girl. That means you’re probably not pirates.”

  Steve tried to come up with a reply but failed. He was busted and he knew it. Deciding on the truth, he said, “You’re right. We need a boat. Like I said, we escaped from Clearwater, but there’s something you don’t know. The little girl you saw is immune to the virus, and we’re trying to get her somewhere safe. We’re not pirates or a gang; we’re actually trying to do something good. If we can get Cindy to a research lab, maybe they can find a cure for the disease.”

  Sean seemed to perk up when he heard this, but the woman shook her head and replied, “I don’t care about all that. Let’s just keep it simple. From what I can see, you need something we have, and you’re going somewhere we want to go. That’s all that matters. We can make a deal. We give you transportation, but you have to take us with you.”

  Before agreeing to anything, Steve needed to know what he was getting into. Considering all the questions he wanted to ask, he decided to stick with the basics.

  “How many are in your group?”

  “Twenty men and women, not including us,” she replied as she indicated Sean and herself.

  Knowing his options were limited to either making a deal or moving on in the hope that they could find another boat, he thought about the logistics of moving that many people. He tried to decide whether he wanted to take on this kind of responsibility, realizing that twenty-two was a large group to move. The woman seemed capable, but what about the rest of them? Who was he saddling himself with? Were they going to end up being dead weight? Sean seemed to be their spokesman, and that didn’t say a whole lot.

  With this in mind, he asked, “Do both those pontoon boats work?”

  “They do,” the woman replied. “There gassed up and ready to go.”

  “Then why haven’t you gone already?” Steve asked.

  Now it was the woman’s turn to be silent. Steve could discern from the sideways look she gave Sean that she was one of the few, or maybe the only one, in their group who could handle themselves in the new dead world.

  About to decline and search for greener pastures, Steve suddenly stopped as the memory of Edna Carlson came to him with a jolt that made him actually take a step backward.

  Edna had been his girlfriend’s elderly neighbor. On the night the dead rose up and overran Clearwater, he’d raced through the night to rescue Ginny. Edna told him she had gone out dancing and drinking in Tampa with her friends. The old woman had claimed she was waiting to be rescued by the National Guard, but Steve knew she was lying. Instead of taking her with him though, he’d left her to her own fate.

  It was one of the many things that haunted him since Dead Day. He could rationalize his decision to leave Edna in a million ways, but the truth was, he could have taken her with him and didn’t.

  With his thoughts and emotions consumed by the memory of the woman he’d abandoned, he said, “Okay, we have a deal. You supply the transportation and we take you with us.”

  From behind him he heard Tick-Tock hiss, “What are you doing?”

  Heather followed this, saying in a low voice, “Good for you, Steve.”

  Relaxing visibly, the woman at the rail said, “Pull your boat over to where the walkway used to be. We’ve got some cargo nets slung over the side that you can use to climb up.”

  Motioning for Sean to join her, she turned abruptly and walked away.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Pentagon:

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the United States of America settled himself into his chair with a sigh of relief. Looking at those gathered around the table, he said, “Gentlemen, it’s good to be home.”

  The other Chiefs chimed in their agreement as they sat in their usual spots. The fight for Washington DC had been costly but successful. In the end, over five thousand men and women of the armed forces had given their lives for what had once been a Dead City, but the government had had no other option. Although the original plan had been to abandon DC, it had been the seat of power for so many years and held so many systems needed by the military, the decision was made to liberate it from the dead. While the cost in life had been high, it would have been higher had not the order been given to raze certain parts of the city with airstrikes before the ground troops moved in.

  Straight to business, the Chairman said, “Give me an update on Doctor Hawkins’ Malectron.”

  The Commandant of the Marine Corps spoke up, “Progress is slow, but the results have been impressive. As we already know, the device repels up to eighty percent of the dead on a consistent basis. Hawkins has been working to improve on this and has already completed an upgraded model.”

  “Eighty percent,” The Chief of Naval operations spoke up. “That’s more than we need. With so many of the planet’s population dead, that would give us an army the likes of which has never been seen.”

  “The problem is the other twenty percent,” The Commandant replied. “They aren’t repelled by the Malectron, but are actually drawn to it. The second test resulted in casualties to both the scientists and their military escort, so the third test was delayed until a more effective unit could be developed.”

  “And when will that be finished?” The chairman asked.

  Holding up a sheet of paper, the Commandant said, “They’re done with it now, and that’s something else we need to discuss.” Donning his reading glasses, he continued, “The first test was conducted in Clarksville, Arkansas where a group of survivors had barricaded themselves inside one of the local municipal buildings and had attracted a large group of the dead. Two of the units were set up on either side of its parking lot and alternately turned on and off. This resulted in the dead moving back and forth and was hailed as a success. The problem was that the units were facing each other, and no one knew that some of the dead weren’t being pushed away, but attracted.”

  “We’ve read the reports and know all that,” the Chief of the Air Force interjected. “Please get to the point.”

  “I am,” The Commandant told him. “What you don’t know is how the Doctor conducted his follow-up experiment and what he wants to do next. I understand that we all agreed to go ahead with this project, but there are a few things coming to light that you need to be aware of.”

  The Chairman made a ‘come on’ ge
sture with his hand, so the Commandant continued, “The second test showed a flaw in the Malectron at the cost of seven of the military escort, two of the scientists on the project and a number of civilians estimated to be between seventy-five and one-hundred.”

  “Civilians?” Questioned the Chief of Naval Operations.

  “That’s what I’m getting at,” The Commandant said as he pulled his reading glasses off and tossed them on the table in front of him. “It seems that on one of their foraging missions into the surrounding area in search of test subjects, the platoon assigned to Doctor Hawkins came across a group of survivors living near a local reservoir. The Doctor was with them and convinced the lieutenant leading the mission not to approach the compound or bring the people into a relief center because he needed them for his next test. He assured him his test would be used to save these people and that they wouldn’t be at risk.”

  This was followed by a pause so long that it caused one of the other chiefs to ask, “And?”

  “He lied,” the Commandant said with disgust. “Doctor Hawkins was trying to figure out what part of the Malectron attracts the dead, so he put a reverse engineered, souped-up version of the device inside the compound the civilians had secured. It was made to draw in the dead, rather than repel them.”

  “How did he manage to do that?” Asked the Naval Chief.

  Picking up the report in front of him, The Commandant said, “He had the lieutenant in charge of his security force and his men act like they discovered the civilians on a routine patrol. The search and rescue teams all carry MRE’s to be distributed to groups of refugees that are too large to bring in immediately, so he had a Malectron hidden in one of the boxes. This reprehensible act probably would have gone unreported, but the device was activated while the soldiers were still in the civilians’ compound. The lieutenant and his men had to fight their way out when over a thousand dead converged on their position within a few minutes. The lieutenant lost several of his people and the civilians were wiped out. When the lieutenant rejoined the scientists running the experiment, he found that they too were besieged. A group of more than thirty dead that had been attracted to the compound came across their observation area. At first sight of them, Doctor Hawkins fled in one of the Humvees. The rest of his people were cut off from the vehicles and had to climb trees in order to save themselves. The lieutenant eventually rescued them and they left the area. Two of them didn’t make it.”