by TW Gallier
Bill had a proper skinning knife that he used to field dress the deer. Sean acted as his assistant. I'd field dressed more deer in my life than I could remember, but the sight and stench of that buck's guts made me puke. Very embarrassing.
"Sorry," I whispered, stomach still churning. I glanced at the two dead zombies. Black flies were already starting to land on them. "Shooting people upsets my stomach. I'll be fine."
They nodded understanding, also keeping wary eyes on the two zombie corpses.
The deer was quickly readied to drag back home. I'd learned that Sean had killed a rabbit and two squirrels. Bill had also bagged a rabbit, while Fred got a squirrel. Not bad for our first hunting party. There would be enough meat for everyone.
Chapter 15
"Well damn," Mike said.
From our vantage point, the dam was little more than a line on the horizon. A break in the waterline. As we got closer and closer, it became more obvious. Still, when I hear dam I think massive structure.
"How are we supposed to get past that?" I asked. "I thought there was lots of recreational and commercial traffic on the river."
To our left came the answer. Another boat appeared almost out of nowhere. It was a large fresh water yacht, maybe thirty feet long. I turned towards it. I started grinning.
"Locks," I said. "Another duh moment brought to you by the Great American Apocalypse."
I vaguely remembered reading something about the Mississippi River locks and dams. That was probably more than ten years back, when I was still in school. And since another boat just came through one of them, the people on that boat must know how to operate them without electrical power.
I turned into an intercept course.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked. "We don't want any trouble with them."
"Do either of you know how to make the locks work?" I replied. "And without electricity?"
"What if they don't want to talk to us?"
"Then we'll be shit out of luck, my friend," I said. "I'm not going to start a fight."
Neither of my comrades in arms objected any further, so I continued heading toward the other boat. As we grew near, four armed men appeared on our side of the other boat. Behind them, peeking around cover were women and children.
When we were close enough to shout, "Hello! We have a question!"
"Don't come any closer."
We were slightly upriver of them, so I put the motor into idle. The other boat continued slowly upriver. That would only give us a moment or two to speak. I worried that if I tried too hard, they'd freak and start shooting.
"We're heading for Tennessee. Can you tell us how to operate the locks?"
"Not a good idea. Go north to Canada. There aren't any infected in Canada," was their answer. "All of the infected seem to be moving south."
All of the zombies were heading south? Why would they do that? And how would those people know? It hasn't even been a week since we'd been hit by ICBMs with the zombie virus, or whatever it was that turned people into homicidal, cannibalistic monsters.
"I have to save my family."
They spoke amongst themselves a moment. I feared we'd drift past them before they gave us the answer. Finally their spokesman shouted back.
"That lock is fully open. The Corps of Engineers said they would open all of the locks," he shouted. "But that was right before the lights went out."
"Can we open them if they are closed?" I asked.
"No."
And we were pretty much too far apart to continue. I wanted to turn around and follow them long enough to find better answers, but his "No" seemed pretty final. So I turned back to the river before us. The lock loomed ahead.
I could see into it now. Both sets of gates were open. Two things worried me. Zombies on the shore side were staring silently, calmly at us. Kind of gave me the chills. The other, potentially bigger, issue was the fierce water flow through that completely open lock.
"How sweet is that," Mike said. "We have a zombie reception committee waiting at the lock."
I shook my head and sighed. Those insane bastards never gave up. The lock looked wide enough that I could stay out of jumping distance from them.
"The other boat went through without trouble," Charlie said. "So all they can do is stare at us when we pass by."
"Can zombies swim?" I asked.
"I don't see why not. They used to be people who could swim," Charlie said.
"They don't move as well or as fast after changing," Mike said. "I bet they'd struggle to swim."
I agreed with Charlie. They might shuffle along most of the time, but they were capable of moving pretty fast at times. The question in my mind was if they could judge safe water from dangerous water, since the river currents were pretty bad at the moment.
We were almost to the lock. I was amazed the other boat was able to power upriver through it. Telling myself that if they could do it, so could we. My hands tightened around the steering wheel and I concentrated on the task at hand.
"Is everything tied down?" I asked as we closed with the lock. The closer we got, the more worried I became. There was definitely a drop from the river above the dam. Maybe only a foot or two, but I was sure the rain swollen river wasn't helping. "It's going to get hairy in there."
"White water time!" Mike cried, sounding just a little excited.
The current had us by that time. There was no going back. I hit the gas thinking I'd have more control under power, like accelerating around a corner. Water splashed over the bow as the boat rocked and rattled, tossed around by the raging current. I didn't even have time to think about jumping zombies falling from the sky.
The lock wasn't very long. Maybe five or six hundred feet long and thirty to forty feet wide. We passed through it like a bullet. Mike dropped into a squat, and Charlie got on his knees, while holding onto the steering console. I tried to keep us as close to the western side of the lock as possible, and away from the zombies. It went remarkably fast.
"Hell yeah! That was fun," Mike said. "Can't wait for the next lock. Can I steer the boat through the next one?"
Charlie and I exchanged a look. One of us had to be crazy. It was the Law of Idiots. One out of every three people was bat shit crazy.
"Yeah, we'll talk about that later," I said. I looked at Charlie and drew a circle in the air next to my head. "We'll vote on it."
"You know I can see you, right?" Mike said, and we all laughed.
It felt good to laugh. I felt a lot of my stress melt away. It wasn't completely gone, but what a relief.
I pulled back on the throttle. Until we figured out how to refuel on the river, I didn't want to waste gas. With the current, it felt like we were moving at a good clip. There was no speedometer and it was hard to judge speed on the water. At least for me. Boats always felt like they were moving much faster.
"You know, guys," I said, rather hesitantly. "I'm thinking it might be better for you to go straight to Canada. You can let me off on shore, and take the boat back upriver. I bet you could be safe and warm in a day or two."
"Are you trying to get rid of us?" Mike asked.
"No, it's just I have to go to Georgia to get my family. You don't have a dog in my fight," I replied. "Why should you risk your life to help me? We barely know each other."
"That's true. Do you have a sister?" Charlie asked.
"No."
"Does your wife have a sister?"
"Yes, but she's married with children," I said, chuckling. "My some of my wife's single friends are pretty hot, but I doubt they are with her at the cabin."
That thought made me sad. Most of her friends annoyed the hell out of me, yet they gave Jenny so much joy. And her sister, Melissa, was just as amazing as Jenny. To think Melissa, her husband Brian, and their three daughters could be dead, or even zombies, was too much to bear. I prayed they were safe, and all of Jenny's girlfriends, too.
"You know there has to be a special place in Hell for the bastards who did this," I said.
They just nodded.
"I got nothing," Mike said. "Canada is too cold for my old bones. I hear Georgia is beautiful this time of year."
"Yeah, the zombies are in full bloom," Charlie said.
"I'm being serious," I replied.
"So are we," Charlie said. "We knew what we were getting into when we agreed to go over the fence with you. We're in it to the bitter end."
"Um, could you use a better expression?" I said, and laughed.
"Speaking of bitter," Mike said. "I did my Basic Training and AIT at Fort Knox."
"Good for you," Charlie said.
"Ha-ha," Mike replied without humor. "No, man. Instead of going down to Tennessee or Mississippi, why not get off the river in Kentucky and swing by Fort Knox? We can resupply our ammo, maybe trade out our weapons for cleaner, better maintained weapons."
He had a point. At least about cleaner weapons. In our haste, not a single one of us thought to bring cleaning supplies. We could not clean our weapons, and eventually they'd stop working. Our superior firepower was our only advantage.
"I hesitate to say no," I said after a moment of thought. "You bring up good points. Personally, I think every survivor within a hundred miles will have hauled ass to Fort Knox to loot it of weapons and ammo. After six days, it's picked clean."
"And we can pick up cleaning supplies at a sporting goods store," Charlie added. "Looters probably don't think about cleaning the guns they steal."
"Good point. I knew there was a reason I brought you two along," I said.
"More boats up ahead," Mike said. "Looks like they are veering away from us."
Five boats in a line were downriver. They were all sky boats packed full of survivors. They'd been coming up the east shore, but turned to the west upon spotting us. No one trusted anyone anymore. I didn't blame them.
"Looks like the EMP didn't knock everything out," I said.
"There are always survivors in every disaster," Charlie said. "Even surviving electronics."
I moved our boat closer to shore, mostly to show the other boaters we weren't a threat to them. Three camouflaged men with assault rifles were probably pretty scary to the average person. Then Charlie pulled out the road map we'd been using out of his back pocket and opened it up.
"We're about here," he said, placing his finger on the spot. "We've come a long away across Nebraska and Iowa." He used his fingers to measure, looking ridiculous doing so. "I don't know, but I think we're pretty close to the halfway point."
It was day six of the zombie apocalypse, and I wasn't even halfway home yet.
Chapter 16
At least the rain was gone and we had blue skies.
"I don't see a soul," I said, studying a marina through binoculars. Charlie was standing next to me, also looking for threats in and around the marina. We'd gone all night and then most of the day without finding a place to refuel that wasn't swarming with zombies or other armed survivors. We were down to our last half tank of gas. Maybe three gallons left if we were lucky.
I wasn't feeling lucky.
"The woods are pressing in awful close," I said. "And the parking lot is full."
Previously, we'd approached marinas and riverside parks with full parking lots, only to have zombies come running out of the surrounding forest. It was almost like they were waiting in ambush, but didn't have the discipline to wait for us to land and commit ourselves.
"Those cars are full of gas, man," Mike said. "If there are only a few zombies, we might want to consider chancing it."
Normally, I'd disagree with his dangerous ideas. The thought of being adrift without gas for the motor scared me. With that current, it was only the power of the motor that got us to the locks before being swept over the spillways. And some a-hole decided it was a good idea to randomly switch which side of the river to put the locks. It would be so much easier if all of the locks were on the same side of the river.
"We have to have gas," Charlie said. "Drifting will take too long."
I swept the marina's docks, moored boats, parking lot, and all of the park area around them. Not a movement to be seen. I honestly couldn't say I'd seen a zombie obviously hiding for any reason. They didn't appear to have that much going on inside their heads. I was surprised they didn't wander around muttering, "Brainsss."
"Okay, let's chance it," I said. "We'll see if we can get gas out of the pumps first, just in case."
"Why do you think we can get anything out of the pumps?"
"The tanks are above the water level, up on dry ground."
Charlie just frowned and shook his head. He was probably right, but I wanted to test it first. Besides, the gas pumps were on a dock separate from the others. If there were zombies or survivors there, they'd have to come around to get to us.
Mike throttled down and eased up next to the pumps. Charlie and I secured the boat to the dock. While Mike handed empty tanks up to Charlie, I tested all of the pumps. Not a single one worked. It was worth a try.
"Maybe we can find some water hoses to siphon gas from the underground…" I started, but the looks from the other two killed that idea.
"Maybe you can suck gas through a hundred feet of hose, but I can't," Mike said. "Just get it from other boats and the cars in the parking lot."
So we decided Mike would stay with the boat, after he found outboard oil for the gas we got out of the cars. We'd kill the engine if we didn't add the outboard oil. Charlie would take one tank at a time to the parking lot to siphon gas. I'd check the other boats for gas tanks.
There were three sets of docks with boat stalls. I started moving toward the furtherest one away. I avoided the big boats, like yachts and houseboats. They all had inboard engines and didn't have portable gas tanks. There weren't very many boats with outboards, but I found a few and started combining their gas into one tank. When I filled a tank, I immediately took it to our boat. That gas already had the oil in it. Doing that, I got two full five gallon tanks of fuel.
Charlie was filling them up faster out of the cars. He had four of our six tanks already filled up. Mike added the oil when he took it down to the boat. All in all, it was going pretty damn well.
And then shots rang out in the parking lot.
"We got some brain eaters!" Charlie shouted.
I grabbed my M-4 and took off running towards his location. The zombies were coming down the road. Not many. Maybe two dozen, mostly women and children. They were all in shorts and t-shirts, and covered in blood.
"I hate seeing the zombie kids most of all," Charlie said.
The tank at his feet was forgotten, and overflowing with gas still coming out of the car tank. I yanked the clear rubber tube out and closed the tank.
"You know you are standing in a puddle of gasoline while shooting," I said, giving him a punch in the shoulder. "Are you trying to blow yourself up?"
He glanced down, shrugged, and stepped away. We shot the five lead zombies, and then I grabbed the gas tank and headed for the boat. Charlie hung back to shoot a few more.
"Come on!" I called.
The zombies started running as soon as Charlie turned to follow me. I stopped to watch them. It was kind of eerie how they moved almost like a flock of birds or a school of fish. Like they had some sort of mental link or something.
"Heads up!" Mike screamed. "Grenade!"
Poof!
It arched up over Charlie and me to land in the middle of the pursuing zombies.
BOOM!
That grenade knocked half of them down. I watched a moment later, and all but one got back up. At least five of them were within the kill zone, too.
It gave us the time to reach the boat.
"Don't waste grenades on zombies," I said to Mike. "That last one hit them dead center, but only killed one."
We arrived with six empty tanks, and left with seven full. One empty was left up in the parking lot. Net gain.
"It wasn't all a loss," Mike said as we sped away at half-speed. "I found some sugary munchies
and cases of bottled water in the marina store, and…" He paused for dramatic effect, and to grin at us. Kind of annoying. "…Beer."
"You were always my favorite," Charlie said.
Mike didn't just find beer. He had a whole cooler full of it. They were warm, but still beer. I tossed a can to Charlie, and got one for myself. Mike already had an open can.
"Just don't get drunk," I said. "If we all pass out, we die."
"How do you figure that?" Mike asked.
"We'll go over a spillway or drift up to shore so zombies can eat us," I said.
"True," Charlie said. He grinned. "One of those zombie chicks back there wasn't very bloody, and was kinda cute. She can eat me any day."
"You are such a sick bastard," I said, shaking my head. Then I grinned. "You're sick, and Mike's batshit crazy. I admire that about y'all."
Chapter 17
After leaving the marina, we enjoyed a relatively nice day on the river. It was hot, muggy, and there were really annoying flies, but mosquitoes didn't bother us too much, and we had water and beer and munches. I didn't even mind the warm beer.
There was another lock to pass through towards evening. That was a little hairy, especially since Mike was at the wheel. Then we found a calm cove that allowed us to jump overboard and bathe for the first time since going AWOL back in Wyoming. It was nice.
We washed our clothes as best we could, considering we didn't have soap and the water was brown with dirt. After that, we sat around in our underwear, drank beer, and let our clothes dry while draped over the rail. We remained at anchor through a dinner of MREs and Hostess cupcakes, washed down with Budweiser Light.
It was my turn to drive when we left at sunset. Our clothes were dry, and we were tired from another long day. The night went without incident. We took turns of two hours at the wheel, and four hours sleeping. Just like guard duty. The next morning we were ready to take on the world.
"How are we doing with fuel?" I asked when I took over the wheel.
"Don't ask," Charlie said. "That motor burns through these tanks like crazy. We've already used more than half of the gas we collected yesterday."
