The Tide: Deadrise

by Melchiorri, Anthony J

  -18-

  Shepherd leapt out of the rusty fishing boat onto the dock. The Skulls had started to trawl through the trees and the yard behind the house. Several investigated the dog, but to Shepherd’s surprise, they left it alone. A Skull nudged one of the recently turned family members’ bodies, but moved on as soon as it saw the creature was a fellow Skull. They scoured the lawn, slowly making their way to the riverbank.

  “I don’t see any fuel cans, and we don’t have time to look,” Shepherd said, gesturing to the boat’s useless motor. The sailboat on the trailer now drew his interest. “They taught you to sail at the Academy, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Rachel said.

  “We have one chance at this,” Shepherd said. “You two jump in and prep it for sail. I’ll get it moving and then load up myself. Got it?”

  “Might as well try,” Rory said.

  As quietly as he could, Shepherd led them down the dock toward the lawn. He directed Rachel and Rory to take the chucks from beneath the wheels. Once he gave the signal, they climbed into the boat. He slipped into the driver’s seat of the SUV and inserted the key into the ignition, taking a long breath. This was it. He twisted the key, and the starter ground unhealthily. A few Skulls twisted, their heads cocked and their eyes gazing over the SUV.

  “Come on, you piece of junk.”

  He turned the key again. This time the SUV’s engine gurgled and thrummed. Skulls immediately turned and howled at the noise. Adrenaline surged through Shepherd as he slammed the SUV into reverse and pushed on the pedal.

  The wheels of the trailer splashed into the water. Then the sailboat started to float, and Shepherd continued until the SUV too hit the waves. The boat came free just as Skull claws clicked across the concrete boat ramp. One of the Skulls scratched at the window, screaming as spittle sprayed across the glass in globs. Shepherd threw the door open with all his strength, knocking the monster backward. The Skull dropped into the water, and Shepherd sprinted to the stern of the boat, then shoved it to nudge the craft out. Waves kicked up around it, and the current turned it southwards. Rory ran to the tiller while Rachel unfurled the sails.

  Footsteps sounded behind Shepherd. He spun in time to swing his rifle into a Skull’s face. A quick blast of the gun, and the monster fell. Another leapt at him. Shepherd shot it midair. Even though it was now dead, momentum carried the body toward him. He dodged the dead monster and fired into a few nearby Skulls. Rounds pinged off the armor of some, but enough found their mark to buy him some time. He dove into the river and swam for the sailboat.

  His fingers traced the edge of the portside gunwale, but something grabbed his boot. The Skull was fighting the surging water, clinging desperately to Shepherd. His strength flagged as he struggled against both the river and the Skull. He started to lose his hold on the boat, but then a booming gunshot split the air. The Skull’s grip loosened, and Shepherd pulled himself into the craft with Rachel’s help. Rory put his rifle back down and manned the tiller.

  “Thanks,” Shepherd said.

  Wind caught the mainsail, and it billowed out. Rachel smiled. “Next stop, Kent Island. With wind like this, we’ll make it in no time.”

  Skulls followed along the riverbanks for a while, but the sailboat soon outpaced them. It moved almost silently through the moonlit waves with no gurgling, noisy motor to announce their presence. Shepherd felt strangely peaceful as the cool breeze played over the deck. Birds sang as night turned to morning. Eventually, they reached the mouth of the river. Rory abruptly banked the boat, tacking against the wind to climb up the Chesapeake in the direction of Kent Island.

  The mast of another sailing craft caught their attention. The other boat was anchored in the middle of the bay, and Shepherd directed Rory to bring them in close. As they drew nearer, Shepherd could see shreds of the sail thrashing in the wind. Bullet holes punctured the cabin, and several of the portholes sported spiderwebs of fractures. Rachel instinctively lifted her rifle, and Shepherd took out a pistol. He couldn’t leave a civilian stranded, but he also couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

  “Anyone aboard?” Shepherd called. He waited for the telltale howls or scratching of a Skull. But he was pleasantly surprised when he heard a human voice.

  “Yes, yes, I am!” A man came up from the cabin. He had a washcloth haphazardly tied around his biceps. It was soaked with blood. A ragged beard graced his face, and a rotten odor drifted from the cabin’s interior. He carried an ax in his arms. Then he saw the guns and dropped his ax. It clanged on the deck, and he held out his hands, open-palmed, in a gesture of surrender.

  “I don’t have anything left.” His eyes shifted left, then right. “Well, a little food, but please, I’m begging you. Let me keep it.” He appeared on the verge of breaking down.

  Shepherd lowered his pistol and nodded to Rachel for her to do the same. “We’re not here to take anything. Are you alone?”

  “Just me now,” the man said. In his eyes, Shepherd saw a flicker of a forlorn expression, but then the man continued. “I took the boat to escape from some assholes raiding my neighbors. They went door to door. I watched them from my bedroom. Wanted to stay put, but I couldn’t.” He apparently had not noticed that Shepherd hadn’t asked for his story, and he didn’t seem to care. “Wife had already turned. Son was off at college in Colorado. Haven’t heard from him since a phone call right at the beginning. Said the University was quarantining everyone there. Keeping ‘em safe. I doubt it.”

  The man seemed half-delirious. “Listen,” Shepherd said. “We’re headed to a safe zone. An island protected by former lawmen and even a few folks from the armed forces.”

  “Military? No, no, no.” The man waved them off. He pointed to his sail, then the bullet holes in his boat. “Military did this to me.” He patted his injured arm. “Worried about infection. Told me to sail away. I didn’t think they’d actually shoot. Do I look like one of those things? No. Can’t trust anyone now. No one.”

  “Trust me,” Shepherd said. “The people at Kent aren’t crazy. They aren’t going to shoot you.”

  “No,” the man said again. “Not going to fall for that. No way. Not today, not tomorrow.” He shook his head wildly. “Go on, leave me be. Just don’t take my food, okay?”

  Although he felt a pang of pity, Shepherd didn’t want to waste any more time talking to the man. “Kent Island will be there if you decide otherwise. Just head north from here.”

  The man ignored them and ducked back into his cabin. Shepherd gave the signal to sail on. As the hull cut through the glinting whitecaps, he wondered what these marauders were like and how they had thrived in a world filled with Skulls. The thought of what they might be doing to survivors sent shivers through his flesh.

  He understood the military’s paranoia. When he’d been in command of Fort Detrick, they’d been forced to defend the base indiscriminately in the early days of the outbreak. It was a harsh, unfortunate reality. But he wasn’t used to being on the wrong side of the military’s might.

  Wind filled the sails. Gulls cried overhead, and the distant howls of Skulls carried over open water. The sailboat continued north toward an uncertain future.

  ***

  The morning light hung over the entrance to Mt. Vernon, bathing the idyllic estate in a warm orange glow. Dom trudged across the parking lot to the ticket booth, not giving a damn about the scenery.

  He looked warily between the buildings and parked vehicles for signs of the men who had his daughters. He counted a few camped out among the trees and underbrush. Each had a weapon trained on him. Miguel and Renee, walking on either side of him, were highly trained operatives who had certainly spotted the amateur warriors, but they gave no indication that they’d noticed the planned ambush.

  Good, Dom thought. Let them underestimate us.

  His boots crunched over a gravel pathway. The packs they wore were filled with what remained of the guns and ammunition they’d scrounged on their way here. Each Hunter carried an extra bag co
ntaining boxes of rounds. In one of Miguel’s bags, they’d packed the FN40 grenade launcher attachments for their SCAR-Hs along with the grenade cases that went with them. It was a final bargaining chip Dom hoped might impress the savage militia.

  “Close enough!” a voice called from the ticket booth. It wasn’t the smooth, smug voice from the radio. A moment later, a man stepped out. He had a bushy beard and rotund belly. “What do you got for us?”

  “For you, nothing,” Dom said. “I want to see the man I spoke to before.”

  Birds chirped. Wind rustled through the trees. The bearded man stood silently for a second. “Don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said.

  “Oh, I think it will,” Dom said. “Need to be sure these weapons get in the right hands, eh?” He gave an exaggerated wink.

  A loud, boisterous laugh exploded from the main entrance. From under the shadow of an awning, another man emerged flanked by his apparent cronies. He held his hands out wide as if feigning a welcome. A large necklace was draped over his neck and chest, and with a jolt, Dom realized it was made of claws. The man’s lieutenants had taken things a step farther, fashioning makeshift armor from Skull bones and plates. A menagerie of other men followed in surplus store-style fatigues and camo. Dom counted about a dozen of them, all armed and moving toward him.

  “Didn’t think you were gonna show,” the man said. He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Name’s Rick.”

  Dom ignored the pleasantries. “Where are my daughters and Navid?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Show them to me,” he said. “Before I give you anything, I want to see them alive and unharmed. Do it or the deal is off.”

  “Now, come on,” Rick said. “I don’t have to do shit.”

  “Trust me,” Dom said. “It’s in your best interest.”

  “Idle threats. My men watched you come down here. We counted your numbers. You can’t surprise us.” Rick tapped the Skull-claw necklace. “I didn’t earn this by being stupid. Boys, tie ‘em up.”

  “That wasn’t part of the agreement,” Dom said, bristling. His nerves lit up in anticipation of a fight, and he clenched his hands into fists.

  Rick shrugged as the men in Skull armor marched forward. “Too bad for you, huh?”

  “Tell them to stay where they are.”

  “Or what, you going to tell your mommy?”

  Dom gave a subtle shrug, but it was the signal Andris and Jenna would be watching for. Two rifle shots cracked in the distance. The head of the man in the Skull mask exploded in a spray of blood and bone fragments. The one with shoulder plates fell forward, clutching a freshly formed hole in his throat. Blood pooled around him as he writhed on the asphalt.

  To his credit, Rick only winced slightly before regaining his composure.

  “Looks like you didn’t count correctly,” Dom said, his voice menacing. “Now stand the fuck down. You’re next.”

  “Ain’t going to happen,” Rick said, smiling unexpectedly. “I want to have a little talk before you try anything stupid.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Dom asked. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. But I also don’t really want to waste more ammunition than I have to on the likes of your sorry company. I’m giving you one chance to tell your men to leave. Bring my daughters and the young man out here, and I might let you go. Might.”

  Rick let out an exasperated sigh. “Snipers in the woods.” He stepped over the body of the now-headless man. “Two can play at that game.” He held a hand in the air and snapped once. A loud bang echoed from the trees.

  -19-

  Meredith spotted the man in the ghillie suit just as he sucked in a breath and started squeezing the trigger. She sprinted at him, leaves crunching under her boots, and kicked up the barrel. The gun fired, and the bullet tore through the canopy of leaves and branches overhead.

  “Asshole,” she yelled, planting a boot into his spine, then pressed a suppressed pistol against his forehead. One shot, and his body went limp. Meredith kicked the sniper’s body over and relieved him of his weapons. She stowed them in her pack with the two rifles she’d taken from the cronies that had been trying to guard him. They’d both been staring listlessly into the woods as if they were already two sheets to the wind. It had been far too easy for Spencer and her to bring them down before she ambushed the sniper. She bet they didn’t have a lick of actual military experience in them, judging by their completely ineffectual attempt to watch the back of the sniper she’d taken out.

  “Nicely done,” Spencer said, lowering his rifle.

  “Thanks,” Meredith said. Never had she imagined her CIA training would come in handy against marauding bands of post-apocalyptic raiders on US soil, but she found herself appreciating the practiced skills in stealth and combat she’d picked up.

  Meredith grabbed the sniper’s rifle and lay prone where he had. The man must’ve been an experienced sharpshooter; it was a prime location with sweeping views of the estate and a perfect vantage point over the parking lot. But she wasted little time in appreciating the former sniper’s skills and quickly aimed at a goon wearing body armor made of a Skull’s ribs.

  “Thanks for the cover, Mere,” Dom said over the comm link. Then she watched him duck as Rick opened fire. The ringleader took advantage of Dom’s momentary dive for cover and ran past his men toward the gift shop.

  Coward, she thought.

  Gunfire rang out from somewhere else, and the men below started to scatter. Meredith rocked the trigger back. The rifle kicked against her shoulder, and the man in the ridiculous body armor fell. Two, three, four more of them fell to her well-aimed shots. More rifles barked in the distance where the other Hunters were posted, raining hell down on the retreating raiders.

  Their Skull-inspired fashion statements looked far less intimidating as gunfire riddled their ranks and they ran, screaming, for cover. Meredith scanned the parking lot looking for new targets. Dom was unloading his magazine into a couple of stubborn raiders. Renee was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another. Miguel had used the blade in his prosthetic to catch one by surprise and was now holding the man like a human shield to protect them against the raiders that had tried to take potshots from the nearby woods. Meredith caught one in her scope and fired.

  “Nice shot.” Andris’s voice sounded over the comm link. “I got the north side, you take south.”

  Their concerted efforts brought down the other marauders with ease. More rifle fire cracked along the estate. Glenn was manning a machine gun near where Andris and Jenna were stationed, and now the throaty machine-gun fire tore up the front of the gift shop and entrance. Soon, the parking lot and surrounding woods were empty of raiders.

  “Clear,” Meredith reported.

  “Clear,” came Andris and Jenna next.

  “We’re going in,” Dom said, charging through the main entrance with Renee and Miguel.

  Meredith sprinted through the woods with Spencer. They met up with Andris, Glenn, and Jenna before rushing in after Dom. Dom’s ploy of splitting the group had worked wonders. Half had veered off into the forest long before Mt. Vernon was in sight, while the others stuck to the main road. And with their assortment of night vision and infrared tech, it hadn’t been difficult to spot the raiders lurking in the surrounding forest. But Meredith knew they’d been lucky, too. These men had undoubtedly grown arrogant, and it had cost them their lives.

  “Any sign of Kara, Sadie, or Navid?” Meredith asked over the comm link as she ran.

  “Negative,” Dom said. “Circle around back. Keep an eye out for Rick. He ran inside as soon as we opened fire. He’s got to be up to something.”

  Having lived close to Mt. Vernon prior to the outbreak, Meredith had visited the place on several occasions when family or friends came to visit. Now she felt grateful for that insider knowledge, and she racked her brain to draw on that information now. If Kara, Sadie, and Navid were still being held hostage, it would likely be in some defensible location. Somewhere with plent
y of cover. Somewhere with limited entrances.

  “The restaurant,” she said, waving the others to follow her. “We’ll clear it and meet Dom halfway through the building.”

  Their boots clattered along the sidewalk, and their packs jostled, rattling their equipment. Gunfire from the main entrance continued in spurts. The far-off screech of a Skull grabbed her attention, but there was no time for that now. They reached the rear of the restaurant. Coming in with guns blazing might freak the raiders out, and she didn’t want to cause them to overreact by killing their hostages.

  “Glenn, Jenna, Spencer, take the gift shop. Try to lure them in there, or at least distract them.”

  “Got it,” Jenna said. The trio rushed down the sidewalk and busted through the gift shop door. The sound of crashing glass was quickly followed by rapid gunfire. Meredith watched muzzle flashes light up the restaurant. Through the dark glass door, she saw shapes move toward where the restaurant connected with the gift shop.

  “Any sign of the girls or Navid?” Meredith asked over the comm link.

  “That’s a negative!” Jenna yelled back.

  “What about Rick?” Meredith asked.

  “Another negative!” Glenn replied.

  “Ready?” she asked Andris.

  “Always.”

  She tried the handle, but the door was locked. She backed up and sprayed bullets into it. Cracks etched their way through the glass, and she broke through it with a well-placed kick. She scanned the room, but saw no sign of Navid, Kara, or Sadie. Andris came through next. Their rifles chattered, catching the raiders off guard. Bullets chewed through tables set on their side as barricades. Glass cups and bottles shattered overhead from a bar two men were using for shelter. Screams and yells of rage filled the room.

  One tried to crawl out from under the bar. He aimed at Andris. Meredith played her muzzle over him, and shots punched into his legs, then ribs, then neck.