He hit the sand, knocking some of the air from his lungs as he landed on the hammer itself. The zombie reached for him, but he quickly rolled onto his stomach, out of reach. He staggered to his feet, fumbling for the gun, and shot the hungry asshole ghoul in the face.
The noise had attracted some of the mob back, and they converged within a few yards of him. Kenny quickly took off running as fast as he could towards the vehicle. He bum rushed a shoulder hit to knock a straggler zombie out of the way, and he hopped back into the four-wheeler and hit the throttle, holding on tight this time.
It lurched forward, slamming into several creatures in front of it, knocking them to the side. Kenny sped up the beach, putting a little bit of distance between him and the horde at the guard shack. However, after a few more blocks, he looked towards the pier, and slammed on the brakes.
There was a wall of creatures between him and his destination, with virtually no gaps between them. “Fuck!” he groaned. Only three blocks away and no clear path.
He looked back towards the boardwalk, seeing only a relative handful of zombies in the beach access area, with the streets sparsely populated, at least up to the intersection.
The pier park entrance is only a few blocks up and over, he thought frantically. Longer drive, but this thing should move better on roads. He checked his watch. Thirteen minutes left on the timer. Let’s do it!
He made the turn and hit the throttle, speeding off towards the road, heart pounding in his ears.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
3 Blocks Until the Pier
Kenny sped off the beach, ramming into a few zombies as he blew by them to get onto the road. He approached the first intersection, where there were dozens milling about, slowly turning towards him as he revved the engine.
As he blew through the intersection, knocking creatures down as he went, he glanced to the side and noticed the road thick with rotted bodies. He sped ahead on the side street, which was less densely populated, but he still had to be careful that he didn’t get knocked off by any outstretched arms.
The next two blocks went quickly, and he made a hard left turn to head for the pier park. He sped ahead, weaving in and out of zombie traffic like a sports car on a freeway. With a block to go, he sat up a little straighter to get a good view of the park. There was a jam of busted vehicles at the entrance, completely blocking it off.
Gonna have to run up the side street to get close to the pier, he thought, and kicked down a little to approach the entrance. He prepared to turn towards the beach and move closer before hopping the fence into the park, but his plan fell to pieces when he saw yet another wall of corpses a block down from the entrance.
He shook his head and sighed. “This is what I get for living in a tourist destination,” he muttered.
He hit the brakes and hopped off of the four-wheeler, running over to the wrecked vehicles blocking off the entrance. He hopped up onto the hood of one of the crashed cars, looking into the parking lot and noting several zombies milling about.
He checked his watch. Nine minutes to go.
Hope Nicko isn’t taking off early. Without any time to waste, he hopped down and made a run for the pier. It would be a three-block trip, through the park, with god only knew how many creatures in his path.
He pulled his sledgehammer from his back as he moved, holding it in one hand as he tore down the paved pathways weaving through shade trees. Dozens of zombies milled about, but thankfully the fences had kept out large numbers, coupled with the dead cars at the gate.
Two more blocks.
He stayed focused, running straight ahead, eye on the prize. Once he emerged from the wooded area of the park, he came to a big field, and relief soared in his chest at the sight of only a handful of creatures. His quad zinged, and he stopped for a moment to rub it frantically.
“Come on now,” he whispered. “We ain’t going through all this and coming this close and crapping out. You can rest on the boat.”
His leg relaxed and he glanced at his watch. Six minutes left.
He let out a huff and pressed on, managing to avoid the zombies in the field with relative ease. He could see the beginning of the pier now, and there was a pack of ten zombies standing between him and his escape.
“Made it this far, y’all ain’t stopping me,” he grunted, and gripped the hammer with both hands. He tore forward, and the zombies turned towards him like a living wall, not giving him any lanes to dart through.
At the five-yard line, he stopped abruptly and threw the hammer with all of his might. The heavy tool flipped through the air, crashing into the chest of the center zombie, and sending it flying back into the ground. Kenny’s trusty hammer bounced to the grass on the other side of it, and he took off, right for the hole he’d made, just like a running back.
The zombies to either side reached out, but their grasps were weak and didn’t stop him. He broke through their arms and leapt over the fallen corpse, swooping down to grab his hammer as he went.
As his foot hit the front edge of the pier, and the waves crashed against the wood, his heart seemed to explode in his chest with something he hadn’t felt since the beginning of the apocalypse. Hope.
He ran along the nearly hundred yard long pier, and his leg screamed, his quad nearly giving right out. He fell to a knee, bracing himself on the hammer.
“Fight through it, buddy,” he urged himself through gritted teeth. “You almost there.”
He pushed himself up with the hammer and peeled himself off of the ground, jogging ahead. The pier was dotted with zombies, all of them focused on him now and heading his way. Thankfully, the wood was about fifteen feet wide, so he had a little room to maneuver.
The first zombie reached for him, skin peeling almost completely off from baking in the South Florida sun for weeks.
Kenny attempted to dart around it, but his leg was not having any fancy movement. “Gonna be like that, is it?” he grunted through the pain. “All right.”
He swung the hammer across, cracking the beast in the side of the head. With one out of the way, he continued his jog, the next duo of corpses waiting for him.
“Come on!” he bellowed, blood pumping in his frenzy. “Who else wants some of Kenny Morris?! Huh? Bring it!”
He hobbled up the pier, swinging his hammer like a madman. He cracked skulls, took out legs, shoved them clear off of the railing into the jagged rocks below. With each hit, he let out a yell, partially to psych himself up and keep moving, and partially to try to let out his frustrations about how this day was going. Weeks of being trapped inside, and a full day of being battered and bruised from fighting these damn things bubbled up in his gut like fire and he unleashed it like a dragon.
At the end of the pier, there were eight zombies remaining. He glanced back over his shoulder to appraise the path of destruction he’d left behind, a small horde of zombies pouring onto the pier behind him from the beach.
“Last drive of the game, buddy,” he huffed. “You’re in control, just gotta finish off a couple more plays and you’ll be home free.”
He yelled and hobbled towards the final corpses. He swung the hammer like Thor, crushing bones and cracking heads with mighty strength. Creatures stepped up, one by one, to get smacked down, one by one.
As Kenny reached the last creature, his chest heaved, the totality of the day catching up to him. He faced off against the tall heavyset zombie in tattered jeans and a bloody polo shirt, lunging forward to shoulder strike it in the chest.
He stood over the fallen ghoul, and delivered the final blow, bringing his trusty sledgehammer down, exploding brains and coagulated blood all over the wood beneath.
Kenny breathed heavy, his killing finally done for the day. He remained motionless aside from the hard breathing, letting the fury-induced spree subside, flow out of him, centering himself. He looked at his watch.
Two minutes to spare. “Nothing like cutting it close, huh?”
He turned towards the end of the pier, connected to
a long reef of rocks that stretched out another hundred and fifty yards into the ocean. It was well past the low lying areas, so the threat of undersea ghouls was minimal. As he approached the railing, the boat in the distance began to move.
“Hey! Nicko!” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “Don’t you dare leave me, I’m here!”
He jumped the railing and moved across the jagged rocks as best he could. He had to be careful, as one slip and all of this would have been for nothing.
“Nicko!” he screamed. “I made it! Wait!”
The boat seemed to pick up speed, and his heart thumped with panic. In a lightbulb moment, he drew his handgun, and fired the rest of his clip into the air. Four shots rang out, and he stood on a rock, the golden weapon glinting in the sun high above his head.
The boat began to turn.
“Thank god,” he breathed, and continued to move along the rocks, much less panicked this time. Finally, he made it to the end, about thirty yards away from the boat. He patted the chain of his hammer. “Don’t you go pulling me under, now,” he said, and then holstered his gun, diving into the water.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
S.S. Livin The Dream
It was an almost comical belly flop given the weight on his back. He pumped his arms and legs hard, keeping his head up despite the hammer trying to drag him down. The water was cool and welcome on his hot skin, soothing his tired body.
As he approached the boat, an orange blur flew past his face. He sucked in a deep lungful of air and dove for the round life preserver, hooking his arm around it with a death grip.
“Don’t give up on me my friend, you have made it!” Nicko bellowed from above, reeling in the final distance between them. He lowered the ladder and helped Kenny up, and as soon as the soaking wet football player crossed the threshold, he collapsed onto the deck, gasping for breath.
“Are you okay, my friend?” Nicko leaned down, brow furrowed.
Kenny rolled to look up at him, a tall older gentleman with the wildest gray hair he’d ever seen. He raised a lone finger as he caught his breath, and the Captain nodded, leaning back against the deck to wait.
Kenny finally sat up, pulling the sledgehammer from his pack, patting it affectionately before resting his arms on his knees. “You must be Captain Nicko.”
“That I am, Mister Kenny Morris!” Nicko replied with a big grin. “I am so glad you have made it to my vessel.”
The younger man let out an exasperated laugh. “That makes two of us,” he replied, still huffing.
The Captain leaned over, eyeing the hammer. “You know my friend, I may not be the smartest man on this Earth, even with the drastic reduction in people,” he began thoughtfully, “but even I know that swimming with a sledgehammer on your back tends to make it a more difficult exercise.”
“You are correct, Captain,” Kenny replied, offering a smile, “that was one of the more difficult things I’ve done today. But this baby took me through thick and thin today.” He patted the business end of the hammer again. “I wasn’t about to leave her behind. Especially since we don’t know what else we’re going to encounter.”
Nicko wagged a finger at him. “This is very true, my friend,” he replied. “But I have to ask, if this wasn’t the most difficult thing you’ve done today, what was?”
“Patio jumping,” Kenny replied.
The Captain blinked at him. “Patio jumping?” He suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, holding his belly. When he caught his breath, he continued, “Oh, my friend, you Americans are my favorite people. Difficult patio jumping, back in my country this was something my friends and I would do to pass the time on the weekends.”
“Were you twenty-three floors up at the time?” the younger man asked innocently.
Nicko’s laughter died on his lips and his eyes widened. “You jumped across a patio twenty-three floors up?”
“Yep,” Kenny replied with a firm nod. “And then jumped from the twenty-third to the twenty-second floor.”
The Captain shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “Oh, Mister Kenny Morris, you are one hell of a wild man,” he said with a chuckle. “We are going to have an adventure together, of this I have no doubt.” He held up a finger and then disappeared into the small cabin. There were noises of rubbing before he emerged holding two cold bottles of beer, holding one out. “Come, we must celebrate, my friend! For your triumph over those who wished to do you harm, and to properly kick off our newfound friendship.”
Kenny took the frosty bottle, despite never being a big drinker in his time. After the day he’d had, he couldn’t help but savor a long sip of the icy brew.
Nicko tipped his head back and opened his throat, downing the entire bottle in one go.
“Impressive, Captain,” Kenny said with raised eyebrows.
Nicko grinned. “I’ve been training since childhood,” he replied. “Come, my friend, we will have plenty of time to talk, but we must get moving.”
“Sure, but may I ask a favor?” the younger man asked.
The Captain nodded. “Of course, what can I do for you?”
“May I borrow your radio?” Kenny asked. “I have a worried friend of mine that I need to let know I’ve made it.”
Nicko motioned to the door. “Of course, down in the cabin on the table. And if you need another drink, please be my guest.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to drain your supply,” the younger man replied with a wink, and saluted him with the bottle.
Kenny turned and headed down the small staircase into the cabin, smiling and shaking his head. There were easily a hundred cases of alcohol packed into that tiny room. If he were to venture a guess, he’d say that his new friend had robbed a liquor store before setting sail.
This is gonna be fun, he thought, and limped through the cramped quarters to the corner. There was a folding table with a ham radio set up, and he plonked himself down on the little stool before punching in Arnold’s frequency.
“Hey Arnold, it’s your boy Kenny,” he said into the microphone. “You around?”
There was a moment of silence before his friend’s eager voice came back. “Oh my god Kenny, I was getting worried!” Arnold gushed. “How long does it take you to go a few blocks away from your apartment building?”
Kenny laughed. “Man, you know how tourist towns are, just way too many people. Makes it hard to move about.”
“Man I am so glad you made it safe,” his friend replied, sincerely this time. “Did you have any trouble?”
Kenny glanced down at his seized quad. “I’m a little dinged up, but nothing a little time won’t fix,” he admitted. “Did have to go a little daredevil, though.”
“Daredevil, huh?” Arnold asked.
“Yeah, you know, stunt riding a four-wheeler, leaping off of tall buildings,” Kenny replied casually. “You know, just your average day in the zombie apocalypse.”
His friend chuckled. “And what about your rescuer?” he asked. “They seem like good people?”
“I mean, he coulda left me stranded here,” Kenny replied, “but instead he pulled me aboard and handed me a beer.”
Arnold let out a noise of approval. “Hell, the only way that could improve was if he were a bikini model.” There was a female voice in the background muttering, and his voice went a little quieter, as if he’d turned away from the mic. “I mean better for him, woman. You know I’m content with you! I… I mean happy with you!”
Kenny snorted a laugh.
“Sorry about that,” Arnold said into the microphone.
His friend shook his head. “Hope you got a comfortable couch.”
“Yeah, we do,” Arnold replied with a sigh. “Really thankful I sprung for the good material on that one.”
The boat lurched and began to move, picking up speed slowly.
“Well, listen man, we’re getting underway here, so I’m gonna go join the Captain out on deck,” Kenny said. “You make sure you all stay safe.”
“You know it,”
Arnold replied.
Kenny leaned forward. “And if you don’t mind, can you let the others know I made it out safe? Might me a while before I’m back on.”
“You got it, man,” his friend assured him. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”
Kenny smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flicked off the radio, replacing the microphone. He stood and hobbled his way back up to the deck just as the boat hit its top speed.
“Did you reach your friend?” Nicko asked.
The younger man nodded and saluted with his beer. “I did, thank you very much.”
“Please, anytime you need to contact them, you feel free,” the Captain assured him. “My home is your home, now.”
Kenny nodded and leaned against the side of the boat. “Again, I really appreciate it.”
“My friends would never forgive me if I didn’t offer this to the great Kenny Morris!” Nicko announced, waving his hand in the air.
The younger man chuckled and shook his head. “So,” he said, “where are we headed?”
“There is a fuel depot a couple of hours up that should be pretty abandoned,” the Captain explained. “A friend of mine owned the dock and it was private and secluded.”
Kenny nodded. “Sounds good to me,” he replied. “And do we have a final destination in mind?”
“Hilton Head Island in South Carolina,” Nicko declared.
The younger man chewed this over. “Hilton Head, huh?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “One of our assistant coaches spent time out there. Really enjoyed the golfing. It sounds like a great place, but why there?”
“A friend of mine contacted me, said that the island was an impenetrable fortress,” Nicko explained. “Only one bridge in and out of town, and they claim it’s secure.” He held up a closed fist in victory.
“Well, it can’t be any worse than Miami, so I’m all in,” Kenny replied, and turned to look back as his condo in the sky grew smaller on the horizon, the boat leaving the smoking city behind. He raised his beer at the luck of still having a chance of surviving the end of the world. “Full steam ahead, Captain!”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-6 ] Page 27