"Then listen to me," Neil pleaded. "You don't have a chance to save Sarah or Eve, or anyone. From what I've overheard, the colonel brought at least thirty men with him, and he's not even the strongest faction. Cassie probably has more, while Abraham is the leader of a bunch of religious fanatics. They think he comes from God! They may be the most dangerous of all. And what do you have? The Whites? All they have to defend you is moral outrage. The truth is, you're all alone. Yes, you're smart and brave and fast as the wind, but it's just you against a whole boat load of people. Take Jillybean and run."
Before she could say anything, the Russian returned, waving to the eager crowd who cheered him. "Here is proof that my vaccine will save you! Look at little man. Him, healthy. Vaccine save him. But not big man. Now we begin. Tonight! First come for vaccine, first serve. We will open the docks for unloading in five minutes."
Many in the crowd rushed away; Sadie guessed they were people who didn't belong to one of the factions. The Russian dropped his cheerful demeanor and, walking in a wide circle around Ram, said, "I have keys, but I think it is waste. Are you sure you want to be free?"
"Yeah," Sadie replied. The second she was released she ran to Neil and hugged him fiercely and didn't want to let go, ever.
After a few seconds, Neil took a deep breath and pushed her away. "You have to be quick, now. If Yuri is correct..."
"I am," the Russian said.
"Then it won't be long before someone is after you."
"Your warning comes too late," Yuri said. He pointed to where his guards and the faction guards were standing. There had been two members of the Blacks off to themselves. Now there was only one.
Neil's eyes bugged. He shoved her. "Go. If Sarah is with the Whites, then take her and make a run for it. If not..."
Sadie understood. Despite a growing alarm that had her stomach churning she hugged Neil one last time and then turned to the crowd. They ranged before her, filling her vision from left to right, a dense thicket of humanity unbroken by the slimmest path between.
They watched her with curious eyes and with hating eyes and with greedy eyes, and a few with sad eyes. All these eyes beguiled her and she lost her wits, forgetting how close real danger actually lurked.
Ram grabbed her.
By accident she had taken one step too close and now his hand was like a vice on her wrist. Even in death he was exceedingly strong. Slowly he dragged her closer to his gaping mouth.
"Nyet!" Yuri cried. "Nyet. Stop!" Bravely he waved his hand in front of Ram's face. Mindless now, Ram turned to attack the closer flesh and let go of Sadie, who, shaking all up and down her body, took only a single step back.
"Get out of here!" Neil cried, also trying to distract Ram.
Sadie turned to go. People blocked her way. Some stepped back remembering old manners, while others tried to edge closer almost eagerly. These she ran from, pushing roughly through the crowd. Saying over and over, "Excuse me, excuse me."
Someone called her name, but in the crush she couldn't tell who it was. Everyone seemed a villain. She was jostled and knocked; a hand grabbed a hold of her coat from behind. It was a black man—one of Cassie's men—he was recognizable by his yellowed, jaundiced eyes and his particular anger which he wore as a mask over his handsome features.
He had Sadie's coat in one hand and in the other was a jagged flash of bright silver. The one hand on her coat pulled her close, attempting to impale her on the barely hidden knife.
With a shrug, Sadie let her coat slide from her shoulders and the man was left holding nothing but cloth as she sprinted away. Using every bit of her speed she ducked and dodged through the crowd. When she had almost made it to the end of the boat, and perhaps to safety, another man grabbed her hand.
He was a white man and, for a brief second, Sadie mistook his skin color to represent some sort of haven or safety. But his grip was crushing and his lip curled.
"What are you doing?" she asked in confusion as he began to pull her back toward the man with the knife, who was even then fighting through the crowd to get at her.
"Sorry," he said, clearly not meaning it. "But money is money, even if it is oil."
Desperately, she yanked back, her arm extended. There were cries and yells all around, but no one helped. They only retreated so as not to get caught up in someone else's business. One woman was too slow; she flinched and made a face, but otherwise stood her ground. Sadie reversed her pull and went straight at her. With her arm and the arm of her attacker stretched, they struck the woman across the midsection—the woman went berserk in fear. Like a feral cat she scratched and bit to break the connected hands.
In seconds Sadie was free once again and running. She made it to the front of the boat which she found packed with people. Some were hurrying away to have their goods registered, others were coming to see the freshly made zombie. Others were coming to collect a bounty.
"She's right there," a woman screeched, pointing.
Instinctively Sadie dodged to the right, away from the woman, and up a flight of stairs toward the passenger deck of the boat. Halfway up a blur of silver caught the moonlight as it passed within inches. It clanged against the railing to drop on the stair in front of her. Without losing a step, Sadie scooped it up—it was a hunk of scrap metal that had been honed to razor sharpness.
It was not balanced for throwing, which was likely why it missed her, yet she didn't hesitate to throw it herself. The black man with the yellow eyes was on the stairs behind her. One on one she knew she would lose against him, which meant she had to keep her distance, she had to evade. At the top of the stairs she turned and very deliberately hurled the knife end over end at the charging man.
Even in the dark he saw it coming straight at his face. He threw himself to the side and the knife whizzed harmlessly past. When he looked up again, Sadie was out of sight.
She was small and speedy. Running crouched, she slipped through the upper deck crowd, most of whom could not possibly know she had been freed. Most...
As she slipped by the door to the pilot house it swung open and before she could leap away a man with hard brown eyes and deep brown skin slapped a hand across her mouth from behind and brought up one of the steel shanks to her eye. In a single fluid move he slipped her into the darkened room and shut the door behind her.
Chapter 38
Sadie
New York City
Sadie fought the innate desire swelling in her to fight the man who had her from behind. She could've bit his hand, or stomped his foot, or perhaps reached back to try to crush his testicles. However the knife point was so close to her eye that any movement beyond the simple act of breathing would send it slicing into her.
"I take it you are Sadie?" the man asked in a whisper.
"Dat is a dumb question," another voice said. It originated from a female and was thick in its accent. "Dere can be no utter dat looks like she."
The knife withdrew, but the hand stayed for a moment longer. "We're friends of Ram's," the man said in a low voice. "Or we were. It's terrible about what happened."
Now Sadie was released and she slowly turned to look at the people standing in the little stairs that led to the pilot house. There were three of them and all were very much black. She couldn't help remarking on that fact.
"But you're black."
"And proud of it. But don't worry, we're not associated with those idiots in Philadelphia. They're a damned embarrassment to black people everywhere." He blew out in a sigh and then rubbed his beard. "My name is Steve; this is Donna and our quiet friend is Ray."
Before Sadie could say Hello or Thank you, Donna nudged Steve to the side and asked. "Oh Cherie, what of the lil' chi-al?"
Sadie blinked at the question. "Chi-al? Do you mean child?" When Donna nodded emphatically, Sadie answered, "Are you talking about Jillybean? Ram's says she's north of here, somewhere near the river. I have to get to her, only everyone on this boat seems out for my blood."
"There's a bounty on yo
ur head," Steve told her. "Enough to pay for half a vaccine shot. It's turning people into killers."
"I think they already were killers," Sadie said darkly. "Or worse. They were all savages, everyone of them, regardless of color. Did you see what happened to poor Ram? It was like something out of Roman times."
"We saw, Cherie," Donna said, reaching out and touching Sadie's cheek. "It twas a sad ting."
Strangely grief was not Sadie's most glaring emotion. Neither was hatred, though it was a close second. Fear for Sarah, Jillybean, and Eve took up most of her heart. "Tell me, have you heard anything about our friend Sarah or her baby? They were taken yesterday."
Donna's face clouded over and she dropped her head. Steve answered, "There are all sorts of rumors running about. People buying people. Families being torn apart, that sort of thing. Everyone has heard about the baby, she's with the people from New Eden, but I don't know anyone named Sarah."
"She's about my height," Sadie said, holding her hand up at head height. "Blonde, blue eyes, very pretty. Does that ring a bell?"
Just then the door started to open. Quickly Steve pushed Sadie behind him, smushing her into the wall where she was pinned. He asked the new comer, "You need something?"
A man's deep voice, asked, "Anyone come through here? A white girl? All got up in black clothes?"
"No, we just checked up here," Steve said. Next to him Donna kept slipping fearful peeks at Sadie, who pressed herself to the wall, trying her best to remain still and unobtrusive. She even went so far as to hold her breath.
"Shit!" the man cursed and then left in a huff.
When the door clicked shut, Steve sent the dead bolt home and then leaned against the frame. "Jeeze. They aren't going to rest until you're dead."
"I know," Sadie replied. She was unconcerned with herself however. "What about the blonde? Do you know if there's a woman with the Whites or with that Colonel from the Island?"
"No," Steve answered. "At least I know there's no girl with the Whites. They're all on the main boat in the lower deck. I went through there a few hours ago to see if they needed any help, but they couldn't see past my skin color, not that I blame them. The Blacks are shanking them left and right every time they step out of their little corner."
"So what are we to do wit dis girl?" Donna asked. "She can't stay wit us, and she can't stay here. Not for long, no how."
"Hiding won't help me," Sadie said. "I have to get to Jillybean, which means I need to get off the boat."
"How?" Steve asked. "By now they'll have both exits covered. There's only two ways off, you know, unless you want to jump over the side."
"Then I go over the side."
Shocked faces greeted this. "Are you that good of a swimmer?" Steve asked. "Nighttime in a river is no joke."
Though she loved the water, in truth she was not a good swimmer in the technical sense. A weak version of the breast stroke and the side stroke were the only two styles she had mastered and neither was particularly fast. Where she excelled was swimming underwater.
"I just need a clean shot to the side of the boat," Sadie said, trying not to think about how she wasn't the biggest fan of heights. She'd just jump and know that it was better than getting shanked in the dark.
Steve rubbed his beard, thinking. After a few seconds he began a slow nod. "You know we can't be seen with you, but, I think we can help a little. Me and Ray can run some interference. From here it's probably only fifty feet to the side of the boat. Just take off for it...and don't look down. It's probably only a twenty-five foot drop but it may look like more."
"An' I can keep watch," Donna said. "I'll jes tap on de door when de time is ripe. Good luck, Cherie."
"Thanks," Sadie said.
The three Good Samaritans left her in the dark, where her imagination quickly exaggerated the height of the ferry boat to ridiculous proportions. "Just jump. Don't look. Just..." A tapping on the door told her it was time.
With a huge breath, Sadie slammed open the door and sped to the right. Between her and the side of the boat, there were many people and they were all blurs of different flesh colors, each representing the cruelty of her fellow man. None was special. None was inherently good.
Like a kaleidoscope, the colors oriented on a single point—Sadie. From the second she opened the door every face turned in her direction, sparking a cry that reached into the ears of her enemies, and, as though she were a magnet, there was a general surge of humanity toward her. They were all too slow.
She was a blur, herself. In seconds she was at the rail and, finding it higher than she expected, vaulted over it. There was no time for her to fear falling. There was only a moment where she gasped and held her body rigid before the icy water ran up her body to cover over her.
Two strong kicks propelled her to the surface and then she was swimming at her fastest rate straight away from the side of the boat and into the dark. Sadie feared being shot at more than anything—at first. Behind her came the sound of a heavy splash. She looked back to see someone churning the water with arms that pin wheeled with such precision that he seemed more like a machine than a man.
With her limited skills she saw was not going to be able to out swim such a person, nor, judging by his size, was she going to have much chance at outfighting him either, especially if she remained in his element. After a huge breath she turned neatly in the one direction that would give her the slimmest advantage: down.
The water was cold and black as she dove deep. She turned with the current hoping to put as much distance as she could between them, but above, her enemy guessed her intention and turned as well. It was a smart move on his part. With his superior speed it behooved him to keep her upstream of him where he could relentlessly hound her until she was too tired to go on...and then what? Would he drown her? Or would he drag her back to the boat and let Cassie skin her alive? All these thoughts went through her mind in a blink and the sum of them boiled down to the very frightful reality that she was going to die…if she didn't do something completely unexpected.
From beneath, Sadie could see her pursuer as a lighter shadow against a deep background. His long body cut the water elegantly like power boat. She was more like a torpedo rising up unseen and unheard; she went right for his midsection. He was completely surprised and, with his perfectly mechanical motion, which included properly timed breaths, completely unprepared as Sadie came up, grabbed his jeans at the waistline and pulled him down.
In the span of one second he went from elegant to epileptic. Fear of drowning was so ingrained instinctually that his precise technique failed him; he flailed and kicked.
For as long as she could, probably no more than twenty seconds, Sadie held on, sticking to his underside, barnacle-like, until she too felt the urgent need for air. Releasing him she came up, took two large breaths, and then, ducking back under the water, chased him back toward the boat. In the brief attack he had breathed in water and now wanted nothing more to do with her.
She didn't pursue more than a few strokes, before turning north; her business wasn't one of revenge, but of rescue.
Slogging against the current, she slowly put enough distance between her and the boats to chance going to shore. There she staggered on, holding her dripping body to retain heat and at the same time keeping an ear out for zombies.
There were many of them; so many that she couldn't muster up enough energy to fear them unless they actively turned and rushed at her. When that happened, and it did with an exhausting frequency, she would dash into the water where the zombies displayed the swimming skills of drowning kittens.
Because of these interruptions, it took her an hour to find Ram's truck. With the world of humanity eroding like a snowman under a fine drizzle, the Ford stood out like a sentry on a little bluff over the river.
"Finally," she whispered, careful to keep her voice barely above the sound of her own ragged breathing. Very near at hand was a pipe, which Sadie figured was part of the sewage system. She gave it a wide be
rth, because coming from its hollow throat were the moans of many zombies. She tried to slip past, using a crumbling concrete barrier as cover, but they saw, sending up a dreadful echoing howl.
"Shit," she cursed. Now she had a quick decision to make: did she run back into the water for the twentieth time, or did she try for the truck just up the hill? The water was just too cold and the truck too alluring. "Hey, Jillybean!" she called as she huffed up the hill with the zombies scrambling behind—there was no need to be quiet now. "Open the truck, Jillybean. Quick, it's me Sadie."
The truck flashed its blinkers and the girl breathed a sigh of relief. She had been deathly afraid that after all her troubles in getting here, she would find the Ford abandoned—which, within three seconds was exactly what she found.
Sadie hauled back the heavy door and, with the first smile she had worn in ages, said, "Thank God, you're still..." She choked on her words. The truck was clearly empty. Somebody had beaten her there and had taken everything, including a six-year-old girl. It was a kick in the stomach.
Feeling her body and mind go numb, Sadie climbed into the cab and shut the door behind, locking it just in case a zombie got lucky with its fumbling hands. She had only just begun to hide herself in the foot-well when she remembered that the truck had flashed its blinkers. That hadn't happened on its own. Someone had the keys and had used the remote car door opener purposely, clearly trying to draw her in and trap her there. Even as the thought struck her, the locks shot up on their own, just as the first of the zombies began climbing up the side of the truck.
Chapter 39
Jillybean
New York City
"Hey," Jillybean said, as she opened the truck's door.
Sadie went crazy, kicking with her feet while simultaneously trying to claw herself out of the truck.
"What are you doing?" Jillybean asked, giving her monstrous face a scratch. For the most part the make-up went unnoticed, however if she moved her face too much, as she had huffing up the hill, it started to itch like mad.
The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors Page 35
