by Jones, K. J.
“I’m not going to hunt him. He’s needed as the biggest dick in the water. Over.”
“Nice. I’m guessing you also mean that literally. Over.”
Big Moe pulled his dinner down into the depths.
“I do mean it literally. Reptilian males are all about food and fucking. Over.”
“Are you sure that’s just reptilian males? Over.”
He laughed. “Some of us try not to act like Big Moe. Over.”
“You’re just masking it better. Over.”
“What women don’t know won’t hurt them. Over.”
“So not true. But go ahead and pretend you’re more civilized than Big Moe. Over.”
“I’d at least cook my food first. Over.”
“Rubbing it in. Just because he has no opposable thumbs and a brain the size of a walnut, shouldn’t get snobby. Over.”
“I gotta use what I got. Over.” His tone changed, “Stand by. Something two-legged moving. Over.”
“Copy that. Over.”
She turned off her headlamp, crouched down into the shadows, and scanned. Eyes wide to utilize as much natural light as possible. She strained to listen and identify every sound, searching for one unfamiliar.
A fight between alligators. They splashed and churned up mud.
“Shut up, you idiots.”
They wouldn’t have obeyed even if they heard her whisper.
In her ear, Ben’s voice, “Mazy, Ben, we got strangers incoming. Over.”
A tired Mazy voice, “On our way. Out.”
Tyler did not have a radio. Phebe couldn’t signal him to come out without announcing her position.
A moment later, her shadow-camouflaged position grew vital. A skiff. No engine running, but she heard their voices over the gator splashing.
“You see any of ‘em?”
“No. Don’t shoot if it’s one of them girls. We need girls.”
“What if they shoot at me?”
“Grow a set.”
They were on the other side of the Molly. The gator fight stopped, and she could hear paddles moving in the water.
“There ain’t no way onto this big boat from here.”
“Where Jeremy at?”
One voice tried to whisper-yell, ”Jeremy? Where you at, bro?”
She shook her head – as if she couldn’t hear him. Amateurs.
Heart rate picked up. Adrenaline increase. Her body prepared for a fight. But she needed them to clear the Molly for the shot. It would be nice to get a heads up view from Ben, but she needed radio silence. They could possibly hear her whisper into the throat mic.
The sounds split.
Two skiffs.
One came around the bow of the trawler. The other around the stern. Quiet paddles pushing through the water. The heightened sense of smell enabled her to catch BO on the breeze.
She silently moved up the steps onto the Molly to gain the higher ground. They were being invaded by looters. Part of the loot they seemed to want was girls and women. That was so not happening on her watch.
Tyler would be pissed off if he missed a fight. But she could not leave her position to wake him. Eyes on the bad guys was priority.
Two skiffs, opposite ends of the dock, flanking the trawler. One man each jumped onto the dock and tied bowlines to cleats.
Four of them in total, based on their dark silhouettes. Armed with some form of assault rifles.
Coming down the dock in a crouched, silent mode, she recognized the build of Brandon. He had spotted the bad guys and came in as reinforcement.
Another followed suit. It looked like Mullen’s small, skinny build. Good for him. He was growing into a brave fighter finally.
She felt proud.
The looters showed they didn’t have a military-trained bone in their bodies. No looking around for hostiles. No rifles raised while walking, ready to shoot. They were being surrounded and they were oblivious.
They turned on headlamps.
She smirked.
Very easy targets now.
“I don’t see nobody.”
“There steps. That boat’ll have shit for us. Guarantee it.”
“What happened to the guard here? I don’t like this. Where Jeremy at?”
“Just get over there onto that boat. Maybe it got a key in it. Take the whole dang thing.”
She wanted to laugh. They would steal the Molly, thinking they’re hotshots, and it has sick Rangers and a zom fighter kid on board. Surprise.
A different voice said, “Look at all them gators.”
“Focus, y’all.”
“There some big suckers in this here bay nowadays.” He leaned over the side of the dock to shine a flashlight on them. “We gotta hunt ‘em. Get some fresh meat.”
What happened next, she could hardly believe it.
As the guy leaned over the side, an alligator jumped straight up and caught the guy’s forearm. The flashlight dropped into the water. He was yanked in. A moment later, he surfaced and screamed for help. The gator thrashed and did its death roll. Other alligators came in to fight over the guy.
Apparently, the alligators wanted fresh meat too.
The other looters freaked out.
Brandon and Mullen opened fire. Muzzle flashes in the dark.
Phebe shot downward over the gunwale.
“What the hell?” Tyler’s voice. “Let me get some, too. Who are we shooting?”
“Cease firing,” Brandon yelled.
“Shit. I missed it.” Tyler pouted like he missed the movie theater start time.
A looter squirmed on the weathered planks of the dock. He held his knee, or what was left of it.
Headlamps on.
Brandon came to him. “How many are you?”
“You gotta help me.”
Mullen said, “We don’t gotta do nothing.”
Tyler took the steps down. “Can I shoot him?”
“You can get some therapy,” said Brandon. “Now, man, you tell me what I want to know or I turn you over to this psychotic kid.”
“D-don’t. He ain't right.” He tried to crawl away from Tyler.
The boy smiled at the man’s fear.
“How many of you are there?” Brandon demanded.
“Just us come here.”
“Lie. We spotted more of you coming down the road from the north. I’ll give this kid my knife to work you over. Or I can get you medical treatment. We have a doctor. Which is it?”
“There about twenty of us. Camped in Mount Pleasant. Cross the bay. Please, get me that doctor.”
Phebe stepped onto the dock. “Mul, help me search the bodies.”
The wounded stranger’s gaze followed her.
“Hey.” Brandon slapped his face. “Eyes off of her. You come here for females. Is that it?”
“We seen females here.”
“You’re spying on us?”
“Just a little. Please, I’m bleeding bad.”
“What weapons do your people have? Answer and I’ll make a tourniquet on your leg.”
“Just do it. I’m bleeding bad, brother.”
His eyes widened as he saw Phebe and Mullen roll the bodies into the water.
“Don’t let ‘em feed me to the gators.”
“Weapons. Tell me of your munitions.”
“What we took off the soldiers. Shit is everywhere.”
“List the weapons.” Brandon put his foot on the knee wound. “I’ll press down.”
“Don’t. Shit.” He screamed in pain. “Stop it. That hurts, man.”
“Imagine how much worse if I pressed down harder.”
“I dunno. Assault rifles.”
“Name ‘em.”
“Bunches of M1s.
“The military doesn’t use M1s anymore.”
“Shit. I dunno. M3s. Fours. Whatever. Our hunting rifles.”
“Fifty cals?” More pressure on the wound.
“Just what was on that Hummer. Military. Um. Shit.”
“A Humvee with
a mounted fifty cal?”
“Yes, sir. Please, move your foot.”
“What else?” Brandon lifted his boot from the wound.
“A water truck. They use ‘em against the zombies. But they all dead.”
“The Z’s are dead?”
“Everybody dead.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“We from inland.”
Brandon continued questioning the prisoner, threatening him with the boot on the wound, while the others checked out the skiffs. Not much to take. They piled on the dock floor tackle box, a compass, and a map of Greater Charleston. The bullet count was low. Not much of paydirt.
Once done and jumping back on the dock, they looked with confusion at Brandon. He tied the guy's arms behind him.
“Whatcha doing?” Phebe asked.
“He answered my questions. I need to bring him to the doc now.”
“Whoa, whoa,” said Mullen. “You’re bringing a prisoner back to home base?”
“He needs medical attention. That was the deal.”
Tyler raised his riffle and shot the man dead.
“Tyler,” Brandon wailed.
“No prisoners.”
“Shit. That kid needs serious help. Why don’t you people see this?”
Phebe and Mullen looked at each other. They shrugged. Then laughed.
“Holy shit. All of you are crazy.”
“Check him for anything we could use,” Phebe ordered Tyler.
Brandon stepped back from the kid.
“Do I get to roll him to Big Moe?” Tyler checked pockets.
“Big Moe already ate. But you can feed the rest.”
“I hope they fight like they did for that other guy.”
Brandon stared at Tyler. Horror transparent on his face. He turned to express protest but raised a hand from their headlamps blinding him. “Lower the beam.”
“Sorry.” Mullen lowered his.
Uninterested in what Brandon had to say, Phebe engaged her radio for a sitrep from Ben.
Brandon continued to rant about everyone being psychotically insane.
“Heads up,” said Phebe. “Four more. Ben et al got them.” She looked at Brandon. “They killed them, too. No prisoners, Rick Grimes.”
“What?” Brandon scowled.
Mullen laughed. “Oh, Rick Grimes. The Walking Dead, Pell. That was well placed, Pheeb.”
“I have my moments.”
Brandon shook his head at them.
“You are relieved,” she told Brandon. “Judgy Mc Judgy.”
Mullen and Tyler laughed.
2.
Mullen and Brandon walked back to the house.
Everyone was awake and gathered in the dining room. Except for Eric. They found iron skeleton keys for the interior doors and a key that fit a bedroom. He was locked in so he wouldn’t leave to search for his sister. He was a threat to himself. Sleeping pills helped give peace to the house.
“Pell,” Mullen said, “if you don’t shut up, I’ll feed you to Big Moe.”
“Coming from one of you psychotics, I take that threat serious.”
“Do whatever you want.”
“What’s the problem?” Mazy demanded.
Mullen pointed at Brandon. “He’s delusional. He’s Rick Grimes.” He laughed.
“That’s mean, Mullen,” protested Emily.
“You think everything’s mean.”
Mazy said, “Post-action debrief. Come on, you morons.”
“Excuse me?” Emily said. “Morons?”
“Get over yourself, snowflake.”
“Yeah,” said Mullen. “They came for females, too. Think they’ll care about your sensitivities? They’d rape you.”
“Must you use that word?”
“Maze,” Mullen whined. “Do something about them.”
“I was thinking of duct tape over mouths.”
Angela sat at the table. Her head rested on her hand. “Are we safe?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mazy responded. “We took out all the intruders. We’ll keep watch for the rest of the night. Mul, is Phebe and Tyler at the boat?”
“Affirm. A gator jumped and grabbed a guy by the hand. It was so cool!” He beamed.
Brandon said, “I think we need to take the psychological state of the civilians seriously.”
Mazy looked behind her. “I’m sorry. I don’t see the shrink you’re speaking to.”
“C’mon. They are not mentally healthy.”
“Who the hell is?”
“I’d like to think I am.”
“Not sure about that. You aren’t adapting to the situation.”
Emily chimed in, “Just because we are in this situation doesn’t mean we have to become it.”
“We are the Zone,” said Mullen.
“That is a choice.”
He scoffed.
Jayce spoke up. “Excuse me. Did you say they came here to rape the females?”
“I hate that word.”
Jayce ignored Emily and stared at Mullen for the answer.
“Affirmative. Phebe heard them talking to each other. We didn’t get a lot of ammo from them. More guns. They need some TLC. Smells like they haven’t been cleaned since the shit began.”
Mazy picked one up off the table and sniffed it. She nodded agreement.
“We are avoiding the point,” stated Brandon.
“Dude, you have a bullshit point. Leave it alone. We are doing what we have to do to survive in the fucking apocalypse.”
“That kid is way beyond surviving. He has serious psychological issues and I for one am concerned about what he is capable of doing.”
Mazy’s brown eyes studied Brandon. “We need the cruise ship pantries checked for food. The team will be Pell, Mullen, Tyler, and me. We head out after breakfast and the line for the shitter.”
“Is this a punishment?” Brandon asked. “For speaking my opinion?”
“Marine, I do not explain my orders. And I do not give a fuck about your opinions.”
Part II
Chapter One
1.
Peter woke up. His mouth felt like a garbage dump in the Death Valley Desert. He spotted a water bottle on the nightstand. A sip and swish. His mouth felt a little better.
Sitting up, he looked around. Recognizing the room, he looked over at the cot and smiled.
“Wifey. You live.”
Phebe stirred. “So do you, Irishman.”
“This could be a dream. But you’re not naked dancing on a pole, so I’m guessing this is real life.”
“You’re obviously feeling better.”
He looked at the back of his hand, then followed the tube to a saline bag hung from a nail in the wall. “What happened to me?”
“Don’t take that out until you’re cleared.”
“Cleared by who? Where’s Gleason?”
“We have a doctor.”
“This is one fucked up looking hospital, babe.”
“It’s the Molly, mentally challenged man.”
“Where’s the murse?”
“With Chris in your bedroom.”
“Why? Should I be concerned? Give them a rainbow flag?”
She smiled. “Wait until you meet the neighbors.”
“We have neighbors? Where the hell are we?”
“Historic Charleston.”
“Oh, so we made it.”
“Sort of. You had to be rescued.”
“Was I a damsel in distress?” He struggled with the IV in his hand as he tried to manipulate his pillows. “Would you help me, wifey? I see to be restricted.”
“Already high maintenance.” She got up and fluffed his pillows.
He grabbed her, pulled her down to him, and hugged her tight.
She held him.
“I’d kiss you, but I have monster breath.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I was worried.”
“Me too.”
“You missed me?”
“Somewhat. My other lovers k
ept me busy.”
“Oh. You have a male harem now?”
“Yup.”
“Let me guess, it’s Mullen.”
“Ew.”
He laughed.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like I just came back from the dead. I bet Frankenstein felt like this.”
“It’s Frankenstein’s monster. Frankenstein was the mad doctor.”
“Must you, geeky babe?”
“Sorry.”
“Other people’s dead limbs have been sewn on my torso. Yup. That’s one of the sensations. Do I still have a titanium leg?”
“Yeah. We looked hard to replace the leg with exactly the same type of leg.”
“Nice of you guys. Does it work?” He moved his legs under the blankets. A cringe.
“You okay?”
“It feels absolutely wonderful.”
“Liar. We looted pills for you. Not that kind of pills. But you couldn’t take them when you had projectile vomit.”
“Was I the Exorcist girl?”
“A hairier version.”
He rubbed his beard. “I could use a shower.”
“Yeah, you could. But it would be ice cold.”
“Oh. So, it’s also you I’m smelling.”
“No. I bathed in the indoor swimming pool. A little chilly but better than the Molly’s water.”
“Hmm. Sounds like I got a lot to do.” He sat fully up, then dropped back down. “Tomorrow. Unless my boat is actually spinning around, then I’m in tiptop shape. Where’s she-beast?”
Her smile fell. “Do you not remember anything?”
He scowled. “Remember … no. Nothing happening in my noggin. Except for a lot of really big fires. A chopper coming down on us. Blurs of things. Don’t know. Why?”
“We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re stronger.”
She tried to get up. He pulled her back down.
“What happened to my cat?”
She looked into his eyes.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Her eyes watered. She cleared her throat, fighting emotions.
“Oh, God. I do remember.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I am so, so sorry.”
He held her to him as she wept. That way, she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
“Julio …? Shit. I remember. Syanna.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck.
She suspected maybe he was crying when he sniffled.
She sat up. “You’ll need some food.”