Extinction Level Event (Book 4): Rescue

by Jones, K. J.

  Matt increased his water intake too soon and began to heave.

  “Slow down in your drinking,” the doctor told him.

  Matt nodded. He sat up against the bulkhead and forced his eyes to stay open. Only once he received a bashful look and giggle from Nia did he realize he needed to cover his manhood.

  “I’m staying, right?” asked Jayce. “I’ll go if you need me to.”

  “Thank you, brother.” Mazy gave him an approving nod. “How about you help restrain Eric for me?”

  Jayce looked at the naked young man and sighed. “I gotta do what I gotta do for friends.”

  “That’s right. Just ignore the gentleman vegetables.”

  “They’re everywhere.”

  Mazy chuckled. “Oh, the jokes running through my head. Can’t wait to make fun of the guys for this.”

  “Especially in the present company.” He gestured his head towards Stanton.

  “At least they’re not scared of penises.”

  “Oh, God, Maze. Do you have to say that word right now?”

  4.

  The team collected on a skiff. The cleanest one. Geared up in ZBDUs, weapons, and light sources. The pirate grappling hooks with attached ladders and several ropes accompanied them. Henderson insisted on steering. Ben kept his face unreadable, except for his eyes. He did not like the man.

  But Henderson had to be tolerated for his equipment and usefulness.

  The fighters wore throat mics. Manuel had a radio on his belt.

  Henderson demanded Robert and Manuel stay away from him. Phebe gave him a look as if she was a second away from shooting him. Her husband and closest friends’ lives hung by a thread, and this man cared more about his homophobic issues. There was no room for such bullshit.

  “You sure you didn’t buy any night vision goggles, sir?” Ben asked Henderson.

  “Only bought one pair and they were damaged during a hunting trip in the Smokey Mountains.”

  Ben nodded. Unreadable face.

  The trip from the marina to the cruise ship took mere seconds. Alligators swam out of their way but watched.

  Then came the hard part.

  Tyler jumped off the bow and monkey climbed a balcony railing. He tied the skiff’s rope. Then yanked at the knot to make sure it would hold. Another thing he learned, though he still didn’t get algebra.

  He checked the slider. “It’s locked. Do I get to shoot it out?”

  “No,” said Ben. “You’re going to stand back.” He climbed over the titled railing.

  Catching his balance on the balcony floor, he pulled out a crowbar.

  It bounced off the glass. He sucked air at the vibration moved into his hand and wrist.

  “Can I do it my way now?”

  “Let me try something else first. Conserve your bullets.”

  Phebe waited on the skiff, frowning over how long this was taking.

  Ben used the slider handle to leverage the crowbar. He strained and groaned through gritted teeth. A metallic pop. The door opened. He threw the crowbar back to Robert, then raised his riffle. Tyler slid the door wide open.

  “Oh.” Ben turned his face away. “There’s a funky smell.”

  “We should have brought a barf bag for Pheebs.” Riffle raised, Tyler entered without Ben’s permission.

  “Hey, short guy. Are you on point?”

  “Yup. Follow, tall guy.”

  The rest began their climb over the railing, helping each other and passing over guns. The balcony floor was a mere inch or two above the water. Since the bay was tidal, the water had infiltrated the room at high tide. Carpet squished. A stench of mildew.

  Phebe pulled a mask over her face to help with the smells. Her pregnant nose wreaked havoc. Every scent was at least twice as strong as it was for the others.

  Into the tilted room. Every piece of furniture not bolted down had slid towards the sliding glass doors. Ben and Tyler pushed chairs out of the way.

  “We got a dead body,” Tyler hollered to the others. “It’s nasty looking.”

  Phebe shined her headlamp on the lump under covers in the bed.

  Manuel asked, “Could somebody survive in here?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Ben said, “That’s why we wear ZBDUs. The place could be hot. Stay frosty and on guard, people.”

  He and Tyler were at the room door. The rest filed in and looked at the corpse in the king-sized bed.

  “That’s a suicide,” said Henderson.

  An empty prescription bottle.

  “Probably,” responded Robert.

  Since Tyler was determined to take point, Ben opened the door. Tyler stepped out first. He aimed in one direction. Ben stepped out and aimed in the other direction. Mullen held the door open behind them.

  “Clear,” said Ben.

  “Clear,” came from Tyler.

  “Wedge the door open with this,” Henderson said.

  Mullen shoved a wad of newspaper under the door. Since gravity pulled the heavy door towards the balcony, a wad of paper sufficed to prop it open.

  Mullen the next out, then Phebe. They first scanned one direction, then fell in behind Tyler and Ben.

  “Dead body down the hall,” said Ben.

  “Got it,” responded Phebe.

  Manuel’s brown eyes grew huge. Sweat visible on his skin. Breathing fast. He stayed in the middle of the line. Brandon had the end, mostly to watch over Manuel and Henderson. The former because he could freak out. The latter because he was a wild card no one trusted.

  “I need to orient myself,” said Manuel. “Are there any signs anywhere?”

  “We are at the midpoint of the ship,” Ben said. “Where was the infirmary in relationship to this hall? Further in?”

  “Yeah. I think further in. There were no windows in the infirmary.” Manuel muttered something in Spanish, reminding the group of Julio.

  Henderson growled, “You think? We need clear direction.”

  “I’m thinking,” Manuel snapped.

  “There were zoms here.” Phebe referred to the dead body in the corridor. “That guy, or girl, or whatever it was, has been shot in the head.”

  “Copy that,” responded Ben.

  The corridor was lined with closed doors. Each one held a number like a hotel. Apart from the corpse, there was nothing. A piece of trash here and there, but that was all.

  They walked as if one leg was shorter than the other. Manuel lost his footing and bounced against the wall.

  “You alright, there?” Brandon asked.

  “I’m fine. Gracias.”

  “De nada.”

  Henderson turned his face to Brandon and glared, disapproving of engaging Manuel. Or perhaps the Spanish.

  “Helps if you got eyes forward.” Brandon met Henderson’s gaze and raised his chin in challenge.

  “Manny,” Robert called down the line. “We got signage up here.”

  “Coming.”

  He bumped into Mullen, who helped him move forward.

  “Sorry. I’m such a klutz.”

  “No worries, man,” said Mullen.

  Manuel studied the sign.

  “Over here.” Tyler stood at the elevators. “There’s a map.”

  “Thank God,” Manuel expressed.

  Henderson made a tsk sound with his tongue.

  Manuel glared at him.

  Ben tapped the sign to get his attention back on task.

  “Is that it?” Tyler pointed to a spot on the map.

  “Memorize its location,” said Ben. “Wish we had a working cell phone. Take a pic of this.”

  “Did anyone grab Matt’s cell?” asked Phebe. “It was in the gear I packed from the house.”

  “Then it’s probably in our new house,” said Mullen.

  “Probably.”

  “Pheeb, the map. Memorize.”

  “Think I can do that better than you, Ben?”

  He finished memorizing it and looked for the stairs. “This way, people. Rifles up.”
<
br />   The sounds of all the rifles lifting to their shoulders. The experienced moved down the hall with the assault team procedure, stacked up behind each other.

  “Two levels down,” Ben said. “Then towards the center.”

  Climbing crooked stairs was not easy. Keeping weapons up while slanted step-downs proved precarious.

  “I want safeties on,” Ben ordered.

  The sounds of rifles clicking on safeties.

  He left his own without the safety and did not doubt Tyler’s was still hot.

  Phebe decided to not put on the safety, but lower her weapon. Since the one on point – Tyler – would hit action first, she’d have time to raise and fire. Safeties messed up the action response time.

  Two stories down. Water on the stairwell floor.

  “This is going to be in some water.” Ben stood by the door. “Heads up at the end.”

  “Copy that,” responded Brandon.

  The heavy, solid metal door opened. Tyler and Ben went in. Water glided onto the stairwell landing floor. But not a flood as had been feared.

  Soon, they ended up in the restaurant and dining halls section.

  “Oh,” said Manuel. “I remember this area.”

  Chairs and tables jumbled at the windows. No way into the restaurants. The doors went inward and would not budge with furniture pressed against them.

  “There should be food pantries around here,” said Ben. “Why have you people stopped?”

  Manuel, Robert, Henderson, and Brandon stared at all the dead bodies. The rest of the team stepped over corpses without acknowledgment. Nothing more than objects in the way.

  Dozens upon dozens of bodies in the lobby had slid with the ship’s listing. They piled on each other just as the furniture had in the restaurants. Men, women, and children. Skin bloated and blackened. Beatles, flies, and maggots everywhere.

  The entrance to the ship stood wide open. The pier depot buildings visible. Seagulls had made it their home, pooing white all over it. The gas had come right into the lobby.

  Brandon muttered, “We’re all going to need therapy after this.”

  Manuel nodded. “I hope they give us a group discount.”

  “The Zone discount.”

  Ben reprimanded, “Stow the chatter.”

  Another corridor and they found the infirmary.

  “Crap,” Robert exclaimed. “It’s a mess.”

  Everything had slid to one side. Gurneys and machines. Every cabinet open and the contents spilled onto the floor. Every drawer in line with the gravitational pull had slid out.

  Among the mess were bodies. One lacked an arm. Blood on bandages and sheets.

  “Somebody tried the ole arm removal for a bite,” said Mullen.

  “Yeah, that worked out well when we tried it,” Ben responded.

  “I heard,” said Branden. “Emily’s dad.”

  “Robert,” Ben called. “In here. Everybody, get the bags out. Fast and furious loot.”

  The experienced looters attacked the infirmary. Their hands snatched up medical supplies from the floor and shoved them in their bags. Manuel helped, though much slower.

  Robert focused on his quest for IVs, saline bags, and broad-spectrum antibiotics bags.

  “Manuel, over here,” he called. “Open this bag so I can fill it. Y’all, I found the cupboard for the IV kits.”

  Phebe let out a breath of relief she hadn’t know she was holding.

  They cleared out the place. Clean, folded bedding into duffel bags. Pee pads usually for toddlers went in too.

  The ship groaned.

  They froze. A further slide of gurneys and machines.

  “It will suck if this ship sinks with us in it,” said Mullen.

  “Are there too many of us?” Manuel asked. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Hey,” said Tyler. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a big coffin.”

  “You are a strange child.”

  “Me? Look at that.”

  Manuel did. He gulped loud, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and blanched.

  A doctor ripped apart.

  “Adult male attack is all. It’s dead now.”

  “Tyler, maybe you could keep these things to yourself for a little while. Thank you.”

  Tyler laughed. His hands busy shoving loot in a rucksack. “Scared, Manny?”

  “Ignore him.” Mullen moved to a new pile. “We do.”

  “Ha-ha-ha. That’s a line about Chris.”

  “Nobody copyrighted it.”

  Mullen jerked back. Something moved under a pile of gauze pads. Tyler laughed at him, then went over and kicked the gauze off the pile. Mullen yanked him back as a snake struck out.

  “What the fuck is that?” Manuel shrieked.

  “Water moccasin,” said Ben. “Don’t get bit by it.”

  Mullen shoved Tyler towards the other direction. “Yeah, dumbass weird kid.”

  “Fuck off.” Tyler lurched himself away and played it off that he wasn’t bothered by some dumb lethal viper.

  Robert said, “I cleared out everything they had. Looks like they were treating people.”

  “What about all these medications?” Phebe asked.

  Henderson, standing in the doorway but not helping, said, “Take all the antibiotics. They’re vital.”

  Ben said, “Take all the meds. We’ll sort them out later.”

  “Roger that.” Phebe’s arm swept shelves. Pill bottles and med packets cascaded into her bag.

  Ben found a drawer filled with suture supplies. Dr. Jenkins and Matt could use them.

  A mound of bags in the hall under the guard of Brandon and Henderson.

  5.

  Matt felt better with every bottle of water he downed. The water puke had stopped. His stomach adjusted to something being in it. But he was still badly dehydrated. Muscles stiff and cramped. A pinch of skin on his arm and it stayed in the molded shape.

  Standing up caused the Molly to rock back and forth, except he was the only one feeling it. He had a sensation of the Earth’s rotation combined with heavy gravity forcing him to stay on the deck floor.

  He desired pants. But no one was helping him with this. There should be some of his clothes still in the cabin, but the bedrooms felt miles away. Unfortunately, the toilet was also too far away. He was humiliated by his physical state. The more his brain hydrated and awakened, the more embarrassing the situation became.

  But he was better than Eric. Mazy had tackled him several times. She wrestled with a naked kid who had no control over his bowels. Eric was determined to go over the side into the water to look for Heidi. He fought hands that held bottles of water.

  “I’m gonna tie you down and put an IV in your arm, Eric Wong,” said Mazy, losing her patience as she wrestled him to the floor.

  “Heidi!” Eric’s screech traveled the bay.

  “Shush right now. We don’t make loud noises, Eric.”

  “She’s out there!”

  “Drink this water right now or I will force-feed you it.”

  “Why won’t you help me?”

  His dark, wild eyes pleaded with her.

  “She’s gone, Eric.”

  “She’s out there!”

  Mazy sighed and touched her forehead. “I’m sorry, Eric. I am so very sorry. She’s dead.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. “She’s out there.” He pointed to the bay. “She got into the water like us. She’s in the water, Mazy. Help me.”

  Matt cleared his throat. Another sip of water. “He’s confused because she made it to the river bank.”

  “Then how did she die?” Mazy asked.

  “She ran off. Into the water. Screaming about her parents and Veronica and everyone is gonna die. That was the last I saw of her. Do you … you really know she’s gone?”

  “We do. Phebe and Ben saw. It’s bad. Too bad to bring back, they said.”

  “Shit.” He banged the back of his head against the wall. “Shit.”

  “Is
that a self-punishment or do I have to put you in a padded room. Along with this one. I can make y’all a padded room.”

  Matt stopped banging his head.

  “No guilt, mister.”

  He scoffed. Then sipped water. “We lost everyone else. Morrison. His son and daughter. They got hit at the same time as the boat.”

  “What happened?”

  Stanton and Nia had run off to the house. They returned with shopping bags of warm sports drinks.

  Matt gratefully took one. Then Angela had to open the cap for him and hand it back. He took a long swig to replace his electrolytes.

  “A SuperCobra came down on us. At first, it didn’t seem like it saw us.” He pointed to the sky. “It was right over us. We had reeds and shit covering us to act as camouflage. Morrison came up with that. But all the shit flew off from the downdraft. SuperCobra moved away and then saw us. Turned and fired missiles right at us. Chris had already started freaking. He threw all the bags and I think maybe the SAW, too, onto the bank, just before the attack. We dove into the water. The opposite side of the bank. Morrison and his kids went to the bank side. The chain gun got them.” He closed his eyes. Brows knitted together. A deep frown on his lips.

  “I’m sorry.” Mazy eyes softened. “I hope none of you saw it happening.”

  “We saw the aftermath of it.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She looked at Eric, wondering if he saw the people shot apart or their bodies afterward and that was part of his new insanity. Losing both sisters was bad enough. He was the sole survivor of his family. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through. If she lost her family, she would sprint into going around the bend. When Katrina hit while she was in Iraq, she had felt that terror of the possible loss. Until she got a hold of them at a hotel in Texas.

  The sound of an outboard motor. The cruise ship looting team returned.

  The skiff tied up to the dock.

  Stanton joined in for a human conveyor belt. Bags passed from one person to the next to get them onto the Molly’s deck.

  The doctor went into action as soon as the IVs arrived. Karen assisted. Peter’s and Chris’s hands were cleaned with alcohol swabs. Rubber tourniquet on their upper arms and needles punctured flesh. IV needles into the veins of their hands and Karen taped them in place. Plastic clear tubes ran to the bags.

  Next problem: Somebody had to stand between them, holding the bags up. Karen had the first shift.