Floodwater Zombies

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  “Stay away from the edge!” Rory said, bracing himself for the man to spring from the murky liquid and take one of them back in with him.

  “There!” Alex yelled.

  They followed his pointing finger to the bearded man’s head, bobbing in the water like a marina buoy on Halloween. Relief washed over the boat, turning frowns to smiles in the dawn’s early light.

  “Did that guy have super powers or something?” Hooper asked, watching the head drift into the trees. An earsplitting scraping sound answered him as the underside of the boat mashed against a large rock or tree stump just beneath the water, abruptly stopping their momentum. The boat swung hard to the left. Rachel’s arms cart wheeled through the air, the boat’s side pressing into the back of her knees. Rory reached for her as she began falling backwards in slow motion. He grabbed her arm just as she toppled over and came away with only her gun, lucky it didn’t go off. Rachel splashed into the water, the look of absolute horror branded into her face like a tourist who just fell off a swamp boat in alligator infested waters.

  “Rachel!” Rory screamed, dropping the .38 to the flooded floorboards and reaching over the boat.

  She surfaced and inhaled deeply through a gaping mouth, quickly slipping into a current sweeping through the trees. Her arms immediately went to work, carving through the water like Michael Phelps going for gold. Despite her devotion, she made little headway into the current.

  “To your left!” Rory yelled, noticing the water wasn’t as strong on that side thanks to the boat’s blockage.

  With a few more gasps and kicks, Rachel found the soft spot and began gaining ground.

  “That’s it, you got it, honey!” Kourtney yelled, setting the Colt .45 on a bench seat and reaching over the side of the boat, trying to extend her arms another fifteen yards. “A little further!” Her face dropped when an elderly woman rose from the water, like she had been there all along, waiting for just such an opportunity. The thing’s wretched face cleared the water and stopped rising. “Oh God,” Kourtney mumbled, staring blankly at the decaying geezer quietly evaluating the situation with soulless eyes.

  Rory’s brow folded as the lady stood up. She was topless with jagged holes where her breasts used to be. A jagged bone jutted from her emaciated shoulder. Before he could yell out a warning, the woman dove forward and began swimming like hell.

  “Jesus Christ,” Rory said faintly, paralyzed by the thing’s implausible stealth.

  “Swim, Rachel! Swim!” Kourtney shrieked.

  Rachel glanced behind her to see something wiggling across the surface of the water and turned back around with terrified eyes.

  Kourtney leaned further over the boat’s edge, stretching every inch of her lean body. “Faster, honey!”

  Rory reeled in his reaching arms, knowing Rachel would never make it, and drew his weapon like a wanted gunslinger. “Swim!”

  “She’s not going to make it,” Kourtney muttered.

  “Come on, Rachel!” Hooper shouted, taking aim with his shaky left hand.

  Rachel paddled wildly through the water, the thing gaining behind her.

  Rory closed one eye and fired one shot, then another, jerking the lady from her persistent rhythm. He hit her again, slowing her down but not arresting her pursuit. He holstered his gun as Rachel reached the side of the boat and took one arm while Kourtney grabbed her other. “Pull!” he yelled through gritted teeth as they leaned back and pulled Rachel halfway into the boat.

  Hooper grabbed the back of Rachel’s collar with his good hand, lending his weight to the rescue.

  “Oh my God,” Rachel panted, pulling herself up onto a red and white striped chair. “I thought I was going to die.” She screamed and jerked from their grips, slipping back into the water.

  The old woman clutched Rachel’s ankle with two wrinkly hands, pulling her poisonous teeth closer with a series of wet sounding grunts. Rachel kicked and screamed while Rory and Kourtney grabbed her arms, playing tug of war with the rotting corpse. The old lady snarled and thrashed about in the water, winning the battle. Her mouth opened wider.

  “No!” Rory screamed, the image of Rachel turning into one of those things like Woody had flashing through his mind. He released Rachel’s arm and unleashed his weapon, fearing it was already too late, fearing a single stumble on his part.

  A gunshot rang out, making everyone hunch their shoulders. The old lady’s head snapped backwards as her forehead imploded. She slammed into the water on her back and slowly floated away. Their heads turned to Alex, who was preoccupied watching the saggy ghoul disappear into some flooded trees. He lowered his grandpa’s gun and turned back to the others. “Told ya I can shoot.”

  “And thank God for that!” Hooper exclaimed.

  They pulled Rachel back into the boat. She collapsed into a vinyl seat, struggling to catch her breath. “Looks like those YWCA swimming lessons finally paid off,” she sputtered.

  Alex turned his big eyes to Hooper. “Can I be a deputy, too?”

  He laughed and winked at Kourtney. “I don’t see why not.”

  Rachel took Alex’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  Alex’s face turned almost as red as the water sloshing around inside the boat.

  The engine started on the fourth try and, shortly thereafter, resumed speeding them back towards town.

  “We did it!” Kourtney cried, planting a big wet kiss on her son’s cheek and then one on Hooper’s lips that made Alex wrinkle his nose.

  Rory laughed and turned to Rachel, frowning when he saw blood running down her forehead. He quickly returned his attention to the newly developed waterway ahead, wary of making a rookie move and - of all things - getting taken out by a mighty Elm tree. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly, stepping through the bloody water in the boat and hugging him again. “It’s from the steering wheel, not that…thing.”

  Hooper breathed a sigh of relief, and frowned with the pain that flashed through his broken arm as he shifted in his seat.

  “Is this water going to turn us into zombies?”

  Rory rotated his head to the back of the boat and followed Alex’s bewitched gaze to the slushy stew hiding their shoes. Rory turned back around and let up on the gas. “We need to find a bucket.”

  A mile or two down the road, Rory realized he was going too fast again and let up on the throttle. They had bailed out as much of the gory water from the boat as they could with a small cooler Kourtney found under the seats, but enough of the zombie stew was still sloshing around their feet to make him want out of the boat as soon as possible. He wondered if there could be a cut on his feet or legs he didn’t know about. He wondered if Hooper would have to shoot him next.

  “Whatever you do, don’t turn it off,” Hooper yelled, grimacing with the pain coursing through his broken arm. “We may never get it started again.”

  “I heard you the first time,” Rory grumbled, letting the boat slowly motor along the deserted highway that was now more like a water park’s lazy river. He exhaled a long breath that puffed his cheeks and ruffled his lips. “I think it’s letting up,” he said, holding his palm out and glancing to the thinning storm clouds above.

  “Good!” Kourtney smiled, squeezing Alex tightly.

  Alex turned to his mom and furrowed his brow. “Are they still going to eat us?”

  Her face twisted, the wheels spinning in her mind. “No, honey,” she said, stroking his wet hair and smiling at him. “They can’t get us anymore.”

  Hooper mimicked her smile and let out a victorious hoot that echoed off the rolling hillsides, scaring them all. “Hell yeah!” he laughed, wincing with the outburst.

  Rory and Rachel looked at each other and smiled. “We made it,” Rory whispered, turning back to the flooded road ahead.

  “I just hope our families are okay,” Rachel said, staring at the flooded roadway with unfocused eyes, wiping fresh blood from her face with a wet hand.

  Hooper settled into a more com
fortable position and released a long breath. “All I know is the first thing I’m going to do is arrest whoever is responsible for this!”

  Kourtney’s gaze tightened. “The first thing you are going to do is go to the hospital.”

  Rachel turned in the passenger seat to face the sheriff. “You know why all those bodies were in the lake, don’t you?”

  Hooper’s eyebrows dipped together. “Why?”

  “Oh shit,” Rory said, easing up on the throttle.

  Everyone leaned forward to see the highway’s shiny blacktop rise up out of the water up ahead and disappear over a tall hill.

  “End of the line!” Rory said, gunning the engine.

  Rachel released a sharp cry, lurching backwards in the red and white striped seat. “What are you doing?” she shouted over the husky exhaust.

  “I’m gonna beach it on dry land!” he yelled over his shoulder. “No way we’re getting out in the water!”

  “Hang onto something!” Hooper screamed, grabbing the side of the boat with his good hand.

  The pavement became clearer as the boat approached the hill, the rain slowing to a sprinkle. Rory lifted a switch that raised the prop as the water grew shallow. The prop reached the top and the boat’s belly smacked into the blacktop, throwing everyone forward. The steering wheel jerked from Rory’s grip as the boat scraped against the highway with a blood-curdling screech. The back end cleared the water and slid out to the right, shooting sparks off the wet pavement. The bloody ski boat slid sideways and came to a jerky stop in the middle of the road.

  The rumbling inboard filled their ears, masking the sound of their gasping breaths. Rory turned the key and cut the engine. A breathtaking silence fell upon them. No one moved. Without the heavy drum of pouring rain and the hollowed out death moans that had been haunting them for the past several hours, the quiet was palpable. Just then the sun finally began to peek through the disbanding clouds for the first time in what seemed like forever. Flooded lake water gently lapped at the black top fifteen feet behind the boat as a lone goose flew by overhead, sending out a honking invite for company.

  Rory turned to Rachel, his heart pounding inside his chest. “You okay?”

  She met his wide eyes and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips against his. They kissed deeply, taking in as much of each other as humanly possible, like they were the only ones on the entire planet. Their lips pulled apart, silver ropes of saliva still connecting them. They stared into each other’s eyes, trying to catch their breath.

  “Promise you’ll never leave me again,” she whispered.

  He pulled her trembling body closer, feeling her heart beat against his chest. “I promise.”

  She hesitated, studying his sincerity, and kissed him again, cupping his cheeks with her pruned hands.

  “Are you two going to get married?”

  “Alex!” Kourtney laughed. “Don’t be rude.”

  Hooper struggled to his feet, favoring his right arm. “When they do, I’m picking up the bar tab at the reception.”

  Rory’s face dropped. “Seriously?”

  Hooper laughed. “Yes, Deputy Callahan, I am.” He smiled at Rory who could only chuckle in response. “You are the man!” Hooper announced, recoiling with another stabbing pain.

  “That sounds so weird,” Rachel said, peering into Rory’s bloodshot eyes. “Deputy Callahan.”

  Hooper took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and surveyed the scene around them. “All right, everyone reload whatever ya got left,” he said, trading out clips with one hand. “We’re not out of this yet,” he said, wincing as his bad arm instinctively slammed a clip in.

  Kourtney brushed a tear from her cheek and began sniffling, staring blankly at the water behind them. “I just can’t believe that...”

  Alex rested a hand on her knee. “It’s okay, mom. Grandpa’s in Heaven with Grandma now, right?”

  She dried her face with her hands and smiled. “He sure is, sweetie. And if I know Grandpa, he’s probably already got Grandma at some beautiful lake with a rod and reel in their hands.”

  Alex dropped his gaze to a bloody ear stuck to the boat’s dash. “Maybe not a lake.”

  Kourtney followed his gaze and her smile quickly faded. She brushed a leaf from his face and took his hands, opening a dam of pent up tears.

  Alex met her sad eyes and swallowed. “But I sure am gonna miss him.”

  Kourtney tried to smile but a frown pushed it down. “I know, A-Man, me too.” Her bottom lip quivered as she swept him up into her arms and hugged him like she hadn’t seen him in months.

  Rory sighed and let his arms drop from Rachel’s waist. She stepped back and held his hands while he stared off into the woods with unfocused eyes, the horrid events of the past forty-eight hours trying to catch up to him. The campfire, Clutch, Kate and Ashley, Deputy Myer and Johnson all clicked through his thick mind like a fuzzy slide show. All the rotting corpses and screaming and blood slipped through his mind in no particular order, a gruesome collage of events that reassembled itself at will. And of course, Woody. It still didn’t seem real.

  “Hey,” Rachel said softly, squeezing his hands. “We’re going to be okay.”

  Rory tried on a smile that didn’t fit, his mom and dad suddenly flashing through his mind. “We’ve got to get home.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to respond when a branch snapped somewhere in the trees next to them. They all drew their weapons, sweeping pointed barrels around the boat.

  “Stay frosty,” Hooper whispered, swinging his gun from tree to tree.

  “Will this gun even work anymore?” Rachel asked, aiming Rob’s .38 at shadows in the woods. “It’s soaking wet.”

  “It’ll work,” Hooper said flatly, scanning all around them.

  “I’m low on ammo,” Rory whispered, his eyes jerking back and forth along the tree line.

  “So am I,” Kourtney grimly added.

  “Let’s get to the top of the hill and get away from the water,” Rory whispered. “They’re powerless without the water and it’s not raining anymore.”

  “Good idea,” Hooper replied, moving towards the front of the boat. “Rory you hop down first. We’ll cover ya.”

  “Freeze!” bellowed out from behind them. “Hands in the mother fucking air!”

  Rory hesitated before slowly raising his hands, still gripping his gun. “We’re not infected!” He turned to a young man with a brown crew cut emerging from the trees on the other side of the boat. The tight grip on an assault rifle bolstered the paranoia seizing the man’s face. It was hard to tell if he had smeared black paint across his face or if it was just that dirty.

  “Well we’ll just see about that,” said another voice.

  Rory spun around to see a tall black man walk out of the woods, his camouflaged uniform just as wet as everything else. The way he nonchalantly held a nine-millimeter at his side made Rory nervous. “Now everyone just relax. I’m Major Grundy with the United States Army and this is Private Murphy. You are in a restricted quarantined zone, which is a very unfortunate dilemma to be in at the moment.”

  Rory swallowed dryly. “Quarantine?”

  “But aren’t you in the quarantined zone, too?”

  Major Grundy arched a thin eyebrow at Alex. “Well technically, yes,” he said, hiding his sidearm behind his back. “But our job in the quarantine is to eliminate the threat at all costs.”

  Kourtney frowned at the tall man and pulled Alex close. “Okay, you don’t have to get so graphic. He’s just a little boy.”

  Grundy released a booming laugh, his eyes probing them. “By the looks of you all, I bet he’s grown ten years in the last twenty-four hours.” The Major’s muddy combat boots stepped onto the road. “Everyone all right?”

  “His arm is broken,” Kourtney said, pointing to Hooper.

  “I’m okay,” Hooper insisted.

  Grundy nodded, examining Hooper up and down. “Anyone get bit?”

  Ro
ry followed Grundy’s scrutinizing gaze to Rachel’s bloody forehead.

  “I hit my head on the steering wheel,” she said, absentmindedly brushing the wound with her hand and wincing.

  Grundy nodded again, studying them with narrow eyes. He holstered his gun and rested his gloved hands on his hips. “Well, it won’t take long to find out.” He smiled, flashing pearly rows of white teeth.

  “’I’d say bout twenty fuckin minutes,” Murphy snorted, cocking his rifle.

  “Easy Private,” Grundy warned with a low voice, casting a sideways glance at him and pulling a clove cigarette from a waterproof container in an upper pocket.