by Perrin Briar
Bill was torn, shaking his head.
“Someone might come up with a cure,” he said.
Dennis stepped toward Bill, his footsteps hobbled, his knees buckling inwards, almost touching.
“We have to go,” Liz said. “We have to go now!”
Buhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht
Bill cocked his head to one side. He smiled and looked up at Dennis.
“Of course,” Bill said. Then, more excited: “Of course! Thank you, Dennis!”
Bill grabbed Liz’s hand and led her across the deck. Liz had hold of Francis’s hand who had Ernest’s, who had Jack’s, who had Fritz’s.
“Slow down,” Fritz said. “I’m going to be sick.”
“You’ll have to do it while we’re on the move,” Ernest said.
“I hate you!” Fritz said, before immediately throwing up over his shirt.
“Where are we going now?” Liz said to Bill.
“Dennis gave me an idea,” Bill said.
“Care to share?” Liz said.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” Bill said.
They turned a corner and skidded to a halt.
Two dozen pairs of blood-red eyes turned to face them, slow and meandering like they were on a turntable.
“Is it jinxed now?” Liz said.
“There are so many of them,” Bill said. “And they all look hungry.”
Two dozen mouths opened and groaned as one, a chorus in B Minor, like a hive of angry bees. Bill remembered thinking how stupid Gloria was as an infected, how easily they tamed her and controlled her. But in a pack, when they could not be separated or divided, they could push forward with snapping jaws and grasping clawed hands, and he realised just how dangerous they really were.
The family turned to run, but were faced with another dozen shuffling figures.
“How are we going to get through them?” Liz said.
“We’re going to have to fight our way out,” Bill said, bending down to pick up a smashed glass bottle. “Pick something up, anything you can use as a weapon. Boys, I want you to swing at their heads as hard as you can, and don’t stop.”
A huddle of blood-smeared deckchairs provided them with the weapons they needed. They took up fighting stances.
There was movement to Bill’s left. He spun, bringing the bottle around at head height. He stopped at the last moment, the shard of glass an inch away from the figure’s left eye.
“Reg?” Bill said.
“The one and only,” he said. “I thought I was the only breather left on this God-forsaken yacht.”
“Have you seen Rohit? Or Priya?” Bill said.
Reg nodded. He looked toward the infected behind them. Bill didn’t follow his sightline.
“Zack?” Reg said.
“The same,” Bill said.
“You never know who’s next on Death’s list, do you?” Reg said. “Except for right now, I suppose.”
The infected groans grew louder, making the deck quiver beneath their feet. Reg looked the Flower family over, and a smile tinged with sadness reached his eyes.
“I always wanted a family,” he said. “Perhaps I can help keep yours alive a little longer, shift the Flower family name down the list.”
“No,” Bill said. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Do you really want to stop me?” Reg said. “You’ll never fight your way out through these things. You need a distraction. That’s about all I ever was in this life. At least now it can serve a purpose. And it’ll be quick.”
He turned to face the infected on both sides. They were closing fast.
“Here!” Reg said, waving his arms and running into space. “Come get the last fresh meat you’ll ever have! I hope I give you all cancer!”
Three dozen pairs of eyes turned in his direction. The family crouched down to look small and inferior compared to Reg. Reg bent over and bared his bare bum from beneath his robe and slapped it.
“Get your rump steak right here!” he said. “Right here!”
The Flowers crawled on their hands and knees across the deck. One infected didn’t fall for the distraction and lumbered toward Bill, who rose and struck at the figure under the chin, slicing open its throat. It fell back, gargling its own blood. They got behind the infected and stood up.
Bill’s eyes met Reg’s.
“Get out of here,” Reg said. “I don’t want anyone but me to hear my screams.”
The Flowers turned and ran as Reg raised his arms and laughed maniacally.
“Sweet release!” he said. “You have found me at last!”
Two dozen hungry mouths opened wide. Reg gibbered, whimpering under his breath, his eyes filling with terrified tears. He pulled himself up, holding himself with poise. The infected fell upon him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BILL KICKED THE DOOR open and ran into the cabin. Suitcases lay knocked over, like fallen dominoes. Cooking utensils haphazard across the floor. Blood covered the white sheets and bare wooden floorboards. Bill moved to the largest trunk.
“Fritz, help me drag it outside,” Bill said.
Fritz stepped forward. His legs almost gave way beneath him.
“Sorry, Fritz,” Bill said. “I keep forgetting about your seasickness.”
“I wish I could forget,” Fritz said.
“Ernest,” Bill said. “Grab a handle.”
Ernest took position behind the trunk, braced his arms and pushed. Bill seized the handle and pulled. They dragged it out onto the deck.
“Bill, this is hardly the time to go treasure hunting,” Liz said.
“This is Dennis’s trunk,” Bill said.
“So?” Liz said.
“Dennis always planned for the worst,” Bill said, tapping the trunk. “This is our way out of here.”
Bill kneeled down in front of it and pressed and pried at the intricate carvings around the edges.
“Now, where is it?” Bill said. “It has to be here somewhere.” He turned to the others. “Help me find a button or switch.”
They pried at the trunk but nothing happened.
“It’s got to be here somewhere!” Bill said.
A bark from a human throat behind them grabbed their attention. Low groans and shuffling feet emerged from behind the shroud of smoke.
“They’re coming!” Liz said.
Flickering shadows materialised from the smoke, crowding around. Bill stayed on his knees, pressing at the trunk’s outer casing.
“It has to be here!” Bill said. “There must be a way to open it!”
The infected groaned and reached out with torn hands, their mutilated digits reaching from the smokescreen.
“Bill!” Liz screamed.
CRACK!
Somewhere to their west, through the thick haze of smoke, something long and tall fell across the width of the Adventurer, slapping it hard. The ship shook, and the Flower family fought to stay on their feet. The infected lost their balance and hit the deck.
“What was that?” Liz said, now on her knees.
“It’s the mast!” Jack said, pointing to a gap in the smoke. “It must have been what was on fire.”
The boat creaked and groaned. There was a loud crunch and the boat began to tip backward, like it was trying to look up at the sky. But it never got that far. Another tremendous snap, and the boat fell forward and crashed back into the sea. The deck had snapped clean in half.
A rush of water rose up like a waterfall in reverse, then the front half of the vessel slipped beneath the waves, and the back began to rise up into the air.
“Hold on to something!” Bill said.
The family grabbed the railing, wrapping their fingers around it tight. The stern rose up, opening into empty air. The cabins over the crack teetered over the edge and fell forward, down into the watery abyss below. The trunk slid a few inches before coming to a stop.
“The trunk!” Fritz said.
He reached for it, but his fingertips only grazed the outside. The boat rose higher and the in
fected lost their footing and slid down the deck into the black waters below. Some got snagged on a protruding length of wood, others’ hands caught on the railing. The trunk slid a few more inches. Fritz stretched and grabbed a handle with one hand, and kept hold of the railing with the other.
“Fritz, let the trunk go!” Bill said.
“We need it!” Fritz said through clenched teeth.
“Fritz!” Bill shouted. “Let go!”
Fritz’s grip on the railing failed and he slid down the deck.
“Fritz!” Bill shouted. “Let go!”
The trunk gained speed, dragging Fritz along with it. Fritz scrabbled with his boots against the deck, but found little purchase. He dug the heel of his boot into the deck. It angled left. The trunk smacked into an infected, dislodging her and knocking her down into the water below.
Fritz reached out with his free hand, scrabbling to grab at anything he could find. But it was Fritz’s leg which hooked around a jutting strut that a cabin block had been attached to. He gripped it with his ankle and held the trunk handle with his hands. The trunk teetered over the edge.
An infected, leg impaled on a snapped metal railing rod, reached out for Fritz, inches out of reach.
“You have to let go and fall into the sea!” Bill shouted. “Let go!”
“Are you crazy?” Fritz said. “It’s too far!”
“If you don’t, the infected will get you!” Bill said.
Fritz hesitated. The infected leaned forward and reached for him, the tips of his ragged fingers grazing his shoulder. Fritz shut his eyes and let go of the trunk. Then he let go of the railing. The infected hissed in agitation.
There was a pause and then a loud splash, followed immediately by a smaller one. Bill edged along the railing to peer down at the sea below.
“Is he all right?” Liz said.
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “I can’t see him.”
“There he is!” Ernest said, pointing out a small waving figure.
“How are we going to get him out?” Liz said.
“Out?” Bill said. “We’re not going to get him out! We’re going to join him! The trunk is our only way out of this. Just think of it as a slide at Splash Mountain.”
Liz looked down at the deck.
“A slide with man-eating infected and a fifty-foot drop,” she said.
Bill shut his eyes and let go of the railing. He slid down the deck on his backside and disappeared over the jagged edge.
Liz turned to Ernest, Jack and Francis.
“Your turn boys,” she said.
Ernest let go first.
“Geronimo!” he said.
“Jack?” Liz said.
Jack shook his head.
Francis swallowed. His throat was dry. He extended his arms as far as they would go, dangling, and then let go. A thin trail of fire worked its way across the deck toward them. It licked at Jack’s heels.
“Jack,” Liz said. “It’s your turn.”
“I... I can’t,” he said, voice quivering.
“You’ve climbed the tallest buildings in Chucerne!” Liz said. “You climbed this ship’s mast! You can do this.”
“I... I’m afraid of heights,” Jack said, shutting his eyes tight against the rush of humiliation.
“You’re afraid of heights, but you still climb all those tall buildings?” Liz said. “You must be the bravest boy in the world. Let go of the railing. Come on.”
Jack nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
He looked at his fingers, concentrating on one hand. His hands shook. He began to unfurl his fingers. They released,
“Now the other hand,” Liz said.
Jack shut his eyes and let go. He slid down, over the edge, and was gone.
Liz sucked air in through her teeth as the flames licked her fingers. She let go and slid down the deck toward the jagged edge. The infected grabbed for her as she passed. She fell into the water, piercing it to a depth of three metres.
She peered around at the darkness around her, and then spotted the white orb of the moon. She kicked as hard as she could, clawing her way through the water. Her lungs burnt, and just when they felt like they were about to burst, she broke through the surface. She gulped the air into hungry lungs.
“Keep looking!” Bill’s voice said. “It has to be here!”
Liz opened her eyes to see Bill and the boys grasping at the trunk. Air bubbled up from inside it like a Jacuzzi. It began to sink, getting lower and lower. Bill gripped it and let it drag him under the surface, toward the dark depths below.
Fritz was beside him. They pressed and pried at the trunk, to no avail. The world was silent and calm down there, rays of moonlight the only light source. They went deeper, and the world turned darker.
Bill tapped Fritz on the shoulder and pointed to the surface. Fritz turned to look back at the trunk one last time. The dying silver light caught an oddly shaped piece of decoration on the side. He pressed it, but nothing happened. He pried at it with his fingers, but found no purchase. A cloud of bubbles escaped his lungs and rose up toward the surface. He reached for the shape and twisted it clockwise.
It moved.
Bill seized Fritz under the arms and began to lift him up. Fritz shrugged him off and kept hold of the piece. He twisted it again. This time there was a loud ticking noise, and then a Ting like the timer on an oven going off.
There was an explosion of bubbles and the trunk flew open. A large brown object unfolded itself. Fritz reached for a length of suspended unfurled cord, but it zipped out of reach as the object shot up toward the surface. Bill grabbed the cord. He jolted as he caught its momentum. He had Fritz in his free hand, and together they were pulled up.
They burst through the surface. Liz, Ernest and Jack pulled Bill and Fritz aboard the inflatable raft. They gasped for air, their lungs burning. Bill coughed up a mouthful of saltwater.
The family watched the burning demolished wreckage of the Adventurer as it slipped beneath the surface of the ocean it had spent so long traversing.
Dotted around them were a handful of infected, flailing their arms uselessly in the water. Within minutes they followed the Adventurer, joining it in its final resting place.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A PINK RADIO WITH A yellow unicorn on the front floated on the surface of the sea. It made fuzzy static sounds that burbled as it began to sink beneath the surface. A hand reached in and pulled it out.
Bill fiddled with the knobs. The hissing sound did not change. He sat it down in the floor of the raft beside their backpacks.
Ernest leaned over the side and plucked something out of the salty water. It looked like a battered old purse, ragged and torn around the edges. He was about to open it, then decided against it. He held it in his hands.
Francis sat drawing a small circle on the boat’s floor with a pen he’d manage to conjure up from somewhere.
“What are you doing, Francis?” Liz said.
“I’m adding Chucerne to the map,” Francis said.
“What map?” Liz said.
Then she looked around at the raft’s interior and smiled. She turned to Bill.
“We’re in Switzerland, Bill!” she said. “Look at the dinghy’s shape.”
Bill cast around and smiled.
“Dennis said he brought Switzerland with him,” he said. “And that’s exactly what he did!”
Bill opened a Velcro pocket on the inside of the dinghy and took out its contents. There was a torch, a map, and packets of dried snacks. He flicked through the map until he came to images of the lands of the Philippines. He poured over each page with a torch in hand.
“This is it,” he said, pointing to a wide stretch of blue. “I think we were about here when we went overboard, which means we need to head west if we want to find land. The mainland is that way.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until the sun comes up and see if there are any other survivors?” Fritz said.
“We’d hear them if th
ere were any,” Bill said.
A solemn silence filled the boat.
“What were those things, anyway?” Liz said.
“Zombies,” Ernest said.
The word sounded ridiculous, but nothing else came to mind.
“Do you think it’s spread all over the world?” Fritz said.
“Seems that way,” Bill said. “If it could get to a small ferry in the Philippines why not the cities of the world?”
Bill reached into the bottom of the survival bag and came out with a compass. He held it in his hand and waited for the hand to settle. But it didn’t settle. It spun around in a circle in one direction, and then in another.
“There must be some kind of interference,” Bill said. “Great. We’ll never find our way now.”
“You’re forgetting we have the oldest compass in the world,” Liz said, and pointed up at the stars.
They were bright and sparkling, like diamonds on a velvet dress. Two of them were noticeably brighter than the others.
“Which one’s the pole star?” Liz said.
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “I read that satellites around the earth can be as bright as the stars. How do we know which dots are stars and which ones satellites? Damn! Why did I have to choose medicine as my major?”
The waves pushed and pulled on the small dinghy in a lulling, soothing dance.
“You’ve studied astronomy before, haven’t you, Ernest?” Liz said.
Ernest started from his reverie and put the purse down.
“Only a couple of classes,” he said.
“We need your help,” Liz said. “Look up at the stars. Which constellations do you recognise?”
Ernest looked and shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Think, Ernest,” Liz said. “Really focus. Shut your eyes and try to remember some of the constellations you learnt.”
“I only saw them in a book once,” Ernest said. “I never saw them with my own eyes before.”
“You have a photographic memory,” Liz said. “The information might be tucked away in your mind somewhere.”
Ernest sensed the desperation in his mother’s voice.
“I can try,” he said.
He shut his eyes and became very still. The others waited. Several minutes passed.
