Click. Oh, shit!
This sucks! I was about to be sent into the ranks of the undead by a six year old. You know the human brain is a funny thing, because my next thought was, with all I had been through, I deserved to be killed by some badass zombie, like the guy at the airport in Dawn of the Dead. Then again, he didn’t do anything. She was in midair and I was still thinking about how unfair this was when the side of her head exploded. She hit the boat’s rail and flopped into the water.
“Use your fucking sidearm, asshole, nothing fancy, just hit the chest!”
This brought me back to reality in a big way. I pulled the Ruger and fired. My clip had seventeen rounds and I burned through them in less than a minute. I fired with a calm calculated aim, and I think I hit almost every other time. Robert had modified my ammo into something he called 'Dum-dum' bullets. At first, I thought it was in honor of me. They were vicious things that tore great gaping holes with each impact. I fired as fast as I could, not going for the head, just center mass to knock them down. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the motor start. I lost count when I fired, and probably changed clips with rounds still in it. The narrow dock limited their access. I only had to deal with six or seven. We made a safe distance just as my third, and last clip ran dry. Only one had actually made it on the boat and Robert just turned and shot her.
In the middle of the harbor, he killed the engine. The whole two-minute trip, I stood there frozen trying to catch my breath. I had dropped the Ruger to the deck.
“Are you okay? Bite, scratch, anything? Anything?” He seemed genuinely concerned and moved closer. I was a little apprehensive since he still held his Glock in his hand.
“No. Close, very close, but I'm okay.”
“Good. Well, you look like shit! Time to clean-up.” With that, he pushed me overboard.
The water was cold but felt great. I grew up around the ocean and have always been a good swimmer, so I let myself drift a bit downward, surrounded by a cloud of red as the blood and gore washed off me. WOW, we made it through another one. I could actually start to begin to think that there really might be a God on our side.
I surfaced.
“Thanks, I needed that! What about you, you okay?”
Robert was dropping the anchor. “Yeah, but I think we have just used up our nine lives.”
He took his boat shoes and shirt off and jumped in.
As he surfaced, I asked, “So, what happened on your side. I didn't have a chance to look around.”
“Half a dozen within twenty feet, more behind them. I was running for the boat when I saw the cop go over you. Damn, that was close.”
I took a big mouthful of seawater, gargled, and spit it out. “You’re telling me.” I floated on my back and just drifted for a while.
“Hey, Robert, I don't think any shit got in my mouth, but if I'm sick in the next hour...well, I will end this song myself.” I looked over at him.
He gave a nod but we had always understood.
We lazed in the water in silence for a few minutes. I stared at the clouds and let my mind go blank. Maybe not entirely blank, we just dodged another one. How many more did we have in us? Probability, Chaos Theory, coincidence, chance; odds are this venture was going to end badly.
Once back on the boat, I took stock of what we had scored. I should have paid more attention to our food selection.
“Well, we can probably eat pasta for the next few months, I hope you like green beans and corn. Too bad about the pudding, but overall, not bad.” I started to get the stuff organized. “Hey, what were you carrying back on all those trips?”
“Pasta.”
“Of course.”
“Overall? John, that was an unnecessary outing; one that could easily have cost us our lives. Bill better appreciate our effort. I think we'll give them another week tops, and then we are going to leave, with or without them!”
“Roger that!” I went forward to make sure I didn't put a hole in the boat when I shot the bowline. There was a bit of a scratch but nothing I couldn’t buff out when he wasn't looking. We started to motor out of the harbor when Robert suddenly grabbed the binoculars and killed the engine. He stood there for a while. I tried to see what he was looking at but the glare was too much.
“Oh…My...God,” he whispered.
“What's up, Robert?” I instantly got nervous.
“It's a navy frigate.”
Chapter 8 ~ A Bigger Boat
June, 7th (continued)
Holy Cow! The United States Navy! I guess America still exists. What is holding us together? I hadn’t been monitoring the radio with any regularity since we got to the lighthouse. I just assumed the worst and figured anyone still alive was holding on the same way we were, staying low, and taking it one day at a time. It was hard to believe that in front of me was a navy ship flying the stars and stripes, looking clean, looking ready, looking fierce, looking normal.
Robert gunned the boat right at them. As the ship got closer, I realized this was going to be the biggest thing I have ever encountered on the sea. Considering I didn’t spend much time actually on the water, that was not saying a great deal, but the frigate was huge, sleek, grey and sharp. She had that ‘don't fuck with me' look. I was very impressed. I don’t know why, but the navy had not crossed my mind. They were in the perfect position to ride this storm out. I had considered cruise ships, large cargo and oil, but not the navy.
“Well, I will be damned!” Hey, I sounded happy. “Robert, how big?”
“Four hundred plus feet.”
“That’s big.”
“It’s bigger than us.” The sense of relief was profound. Oh man, maybe things were not that bad. Do we still have a President? A Congress? Laws?
“What the hell are you so cheery about?”
“Robert, come on. That’s the US Navy. It’s over. We’re saved!”
“Saved? John, you really are naive. Jesus Christ, have you not been paying attention?”
The radio crackled.
“Sloop, this is the U.S. Navy frigate USS Kauffman, please identify, over.”
Robert picked up the receiver and dangled it in his hands for a few seconds while he looked at me. He gave me this weird stare; you know like in Jaws, Quint on the bow of the Orca, with the sun setting after they just had their first battle with the shark? He has this damn odd grin. You don’t know if it’s a crazy grin or a sage-like grin.
“This is Providence with two souls aboard, both male, and both human, over.”
“It's good to see any humans these days, Providence. We will be boarding and check you out. Over.”
“Thank you, Kauffman, we look forward to seeing you.”
“I guess, when your boat is so big, you don't have to ask for permission. Do we have any issues here, Robert?”
“No, these guys are legit, and what could we do?” Then he keyed the mike, “Roger that, Kauffman, we look forward to the company.”
“Okay, John. Just remember these are the good guys, but serious as a heart attack, no fucking around.”
“No problem, they have a bigger boat and larger guns, so they win.”
Ten minutes later, a zodiac came alongside with some trepidation. Robert killed the engine and we stood on deck, hands in the air.
“What do you want to us to do?” I yelled.
“Just stay where you are.”
“Just the two of us on board, but there are two more, male and female, at the lighthouse in God’s Haven.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get them.”
“God, is it good to see you guys?” Robert seemed genially friendly, maybe my giddiness was catching, but then again, he is an ex-marine. We helped secure the zodiac and they stepped on board, all armed with M16s and dressed in battle gear. For a couple of seconds, everyone sort of stood around and acted like they were trying not to be nervous, then I realized Robert and I were still armed.
“I assume you want us to disarm, sorry.”
“That would be a go
od idea. Where are you guys from?”
“Bangor,” Robert replied, as we both undid our holsters and carefully placed them on the deck.
“Bangor!” I could almost see him drawing a map in his head trying to find Bangor.
“Maine’s always been a bit isolated.” I tried to help. Nobody did anything with our weapons but push them to one side. Our new friends visibly relaxed.
“Man, you guys were lucky to be on the coast and with a boat.”
“No such luck, took us five days and there were originally twenty-two of us.”
He got the point. We stayed on deck with the ensign while the two seamen went below.
“It's that bad? We’ve been at sea through all this, seven weeks and counting. You’re the first people we’ve rescued in last five days.”
“You don’t want to be anywhere close to the mainland, It's literally a hell on Earth.” We’ve been rescued?
He registered my remark with a blank look, I don’t think this guy has a fucking clue what was happening, what has happened.
“Well, you guys got the navy to protect you now. I am ensign first class Spencer. I have some good news. We have retaken Nantucket and are working on the Vineyard, maybe a day or two.”
“We?” Robert asked.
“We, as in a Carrier Group and a whole lot more. The navy sent everything they could to sea, isolate us, and ride it out.”
“You have cleared Nantucket?” I chipped in.
We chatted for a few minutes until the other two joined us on deck. He turned to the two seamen and nodded. “Let's get you guys onboard and give you something decent to eat. We can do a proper debriefing when the captain is ready. These gentlemen will take good care of your vessel.” Everything about Spencer suddenly changed and it was obvious that we were no longer talking to each other as survivors, as equals.
“Guys, I want you to put on these life jackets. Okay, quick overview. You may or may not be aware that we are under Martial Law. This means we have the right to register you, inventory your belongings, and assure your safety and well-being. It also means you have to listen to people like me, sorry, guys. We just want to know who you are and how you made it through. Everything will be okay.” I guess ‘rescued’ is just a kinder gentler word for prisoner. I gave Robert a sideways glance. He seemed fairly calm, as if he was expecting this.
“Okay, fine by me,” I said. You know when you eliminate, choice decisions become so much easier.
We climbed on board the zodiac where a third seaman, equally armed was at the helm. I didn't have the heart to tell Spencer that for the last week we have been dining on lobster, rib eyes, and fillets.
Once we got on board, we were escorted to the ship’s doctor and given a quick exam. She remarked that all things considered, we were in great shape. I was psyched. My blood pressure was great and I had lost fifteen pounds.
“Dehydration and slight malnutrition have been our biggest problems. I haven’t seen a bite victim in over a month.” I didn’t ask what happened to the victim.
“Any other survivors on board?”
“Nope, you two are the first in quite a while. Once we get you checked out, we will move you to someplace more permanent and comfortable.”
We were then led to a lounge area and asked to fill out some questionnaires, and by some, I mean a small forest must have been sacrificed to generate this much paperwork! The medical stuff makes sense, but my home address? Phone number? Emergency contact? You have to be fucking kidding me. So I decided just to get comfortable and settle in. I don’t know if it was the day’s events catching up, or my adrenalin crashing, but I was tired. I laid my head on the table and in a minute, I was gone.
When I did wake up, Robert was talking with Spencer and some other guys.
“It’s alive! Welcome back and we have to go.” He slapped me on the back.
It was hard to get straight and the tableside of my face was numb. God, did I need a bed, or couch, or the floor. In a total haze, I followed Robert and Spencer through a labyrinth of doors and corridors. Every time we went through a door, I tripped, since no one had bothered to make the door flush with the floor. Eventually, we arrived at a nice walnut paneled room with comfortable chairs surrounding a large well-polished table. The ensign left and we were alone. I went over to the far wall and examined an oversized map of the world. Little by little, I started to come around. Coffee would be good. To kill time, I started to tap at different countries. How many of us are left? How many did we lose each day? By now, the numbers had to be stabilizing in some areas. Places in China are a month ahead. I would love to know what is going on there. Would that amount of time make a difference? I felt Roberts’s presence behind me.
“Yeah, it boggles the mind to think how much is gone, how enormous this all really is, and we get it on our watch.” He walked over and sat down.
“I don’t know, man. We’ve seen so much this last couple of weeks. Humans seem to be doing as much damage as the zombies.” I joined him at the table.
“So, what happens next?”
“Well, my brother from another mother, I do believe we are going to get debriefed.”
“Okay, Robert, what's with this whole debriefing thing?”
“Oh, it’s standard. They just want to know our story. It's a way of gathering intelligence. These guys have been out almost two months. My guess is they have never seen a real zombie or watched people die in real life. When everything is on video, it can be truly difficult to comprehend what has happened.”
“Intelligence gathering. All right, well, you’d better let me do the talking.” I laughed but he just glared and quickly fired a plastic coaster, hitting me in the chest.
Just as I am struck, the door opens and in walks a man dressed in a light brown shirt and pants, with a crease that looked like it could cut you. Two other guys in uniform follow him. Robert immediately stands up, and not knowing protocol, I follow his lead.
“Good day, gentlemen. I'm sure you had quite the trip and I am sorry to detain you like this. I am Captain David Walker. Do you mind if we talk a bit and then get you settled in?”
“Of course, sir,” replied Robert. “Robert Barr and this is John Patrick.” I was silently pleased he didn’t try to bust my balls and introduce us as doctor. What the hell did he mean ‘settled in’?
“I don’t know how much you know about what is going on, so I will give you a quick rundown of our situation. When the outcome of The Plague became obvious, the navy was quickly sent to sea, everywhere on earth, with everything she had and anything she could find, borrow, or steal. The Atlantic Fleet was then divided into two groups. One is in the Caribbean and we were sent north. Our task is to search for survivors and secure any safe zones. So far, we have found over forty-five thousand, mostly from situations like yours, although there have been some isolated shore cases and a few actual mainland rescues. I am sorry for being rude. Would either of you like something to drink or eat?”
“No, thank you. So we still have a government?” David ignored my question and continued.
“We have cleared Nantucket and operations on Martha's Vineyard are currently underway. We should be completed in a day or two. Once that's done, we will move on to Block Island. Our goal is to gain as much safe land and supplies that will allow us to see the Plague burn out and the zombies decompose.”
Shit! My mind was reeling. How many people lived on the East Coast of the United States? It has to be over one hundred and fifty million. They have only forty-five thousand? Is that all? Yeah, it sounds like a big number until you consider what you started with. I thought there would be more, lots more. My attention started to wander and do some quick and dirty calculations. What’s the age range? How many sub adults? How many males? More important, how many females? The Captain continued to talk, something about cruise ships and container vessels, but I was lost in thought.
“Mr. Patrick, you have something on your mind?”
“Sorry, just a bit distracted. Um,
you don't happen to have any rough demographics on the survivors handy. It doesn’t have to be too detailed, just age and sex will do for now.”
“I can get you that information, why?”
“Well sir, combined with your fleets demographic profile, I think I can give us a rough clue if we can win. Mind you, this will be very rough, just a quick snap shot of where we stand.”
“Win? Do you mean on the Vineyard?”
“Oh, no sir, I mean on the planet.”
Captain Walker stared long and hard. “What line of work are you in, Mr. Patrick?”
“I teach Anthropology, Biological Anthropology at the University of Maine, sir. Well, I used to.”
This time, the pause was about a minute and you could see the concern on his face.
“I will make sure you get that data, and Mr. Patrick, let’s keep this between you and me.”
“Yes sir.” But I knew the answer already. Forty-five thousand! No! That can't be right! Please, God, No! But what the hell did I expect? 45 K plus the fleet might be enough and who knows what is going on south of us or in the Pacific? Thousands of islands, right? This all might work out.
“Okay, why is a captain of a navy vessel interviewing two survivors? Well, you two are late in the game and I would like to know how you made it. Alright, gentlemen, let’s hear your story. How did the two of you survive all this, and if it is okay with you, I would like it taped.”
We both said it would be fine to record the interview and spent the next two and a half hours telling our story. I let Robert do most of the talking and he deferred to me for the technical zombie stuff. The Captain seemed mostly interested in our zombie observations and was astounded we had collected so much insight, that both of us had actually spent time thinking about the zombies, studying them. It seems the military had very limited first hand intel on what they were up against. They had not yet come to understand just what a zombie was, what they did. What they did was just hang out, sit in the shade, drink water, linger, kill and eat anything that moved. When we had finished, he just stared at us for half a minute.
Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel Page 11