Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel)

by Shana Festa

  "A gown fit for a queen," I sniffled, doing my best, but failing, to not show my sadness. She looked at me, inspecting my face, and smiled knowingly back at me.

  "You're a good person, Emma. You too, Meg. You could have left us, but you didn't. I've held on far too long for him. I couldn't stand the idea of him being alone." She tried to turn her head to see Meg, but her neck was too stiff, muscles atrophied from disuse.

  "We won't leave you, Lydia. We'll be here to walk you to the door when you're ready." My lips trembled as I spoke the words, fighting the urge to be strong for this amazing woman in front of me.

  She reached up with a shaking hand and wiped a tear from my cheek, smiling through her pain. "Take care of Peter. He'll need you."

  I nodded, the lump in my throat making it impossible to form words.

  Her breathing became more labored; the only small relief in effort came from positioning her body forward and leaning her over a stack of pillows. "I don't have the strength to fight anymore. It's almost time," she whispered. "I'd like to watch the sun set one last time."

  Jake and Vinny carried Lydia from the cabin and placed her carefully into a seated position on the bench seat. Peter moved to sit behind her, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame, not only for physical support, but to hold his dying friend close as her soul left her diseased husk of a body.

  He whispered into her ear and didn't attempt to mask his tears and raw emotion. "I love you, Lydia Baker. You have been, and always will be, my best friend. I will never forget you."

  She squeezed his hands one last time, her eyes fixed on the pastel sky of dusk, lips forming a peaceful smile and slumped against him. Her hands fell from his and she was gone.

  Peter clutched her body in a tight embrace, grief stricken by her passing, repeating his oath to always love her and never forget her. As the sky darkened to a deep purple—the last remaining moments before the sun fell beneath the horizon—we lowered Lydia's body into the ocean and watched as she disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 05: Kinemortophobia

  "What about the fuel?" Vinny asked the next morning. We spent the night tied to the sailboat, Peter getting the room with the twin beds by default. We'd transferred anything deemed useful from the sailboat to our larger houseboat, including its life-vests, sail, and best of all, an inflatable raft-in-a-bag. Two retractable oars were clipped to the bag, a genius concept because it meant never having to paddle with our hands should we need to make a fast getaway.

  Peter returned a moment later wearing a grin and carrying a hose in one hand and a gas can in the other.

  "I bought this at one of those big sport emporiums. They call it the 'Siphon-Star'."

  "Really?" mocked Vinny. "It just looks like a hose and gas tank to me."

  "It is, but the brass fitting on the end makes siphoning possible without having to suck down a gulp of fuel in the process."

  That got our attention. We watched as he fed the side of the hose with the fitting into his boat's tank, and the other end into the red plastic receiving tank. He shook the side with the fitting, and like magic, fuel began to flood the line, filling the receptacle. He repeated the process a two more times, handing the full tanks off to Jake to pour into the houseboat's tank. The final gallon remained in the portable gas can for emergencies.

  We stood on deck, taking our final looks at the Island Bound as Jake pulled away. No destination had been settled upon, but we all decided putting some distance between us and the boat where Lydia died was a good decision. The houseboat chugged along quietly under Jake's navigation, eventually slowing to a coast before he cut the engine. Water surrounded us on all sides. The only signs of land were little specks in the distance. The ocean breeze made my arms erupt in goose bumps, and I wrapped an afghan around myself.

  Peter had been stuck inside his own head during the short journey, and he snapped out of it once Jake joined us at the back of the upper deck. We told him a watered down version of our life on the run, skimming over the bits that were still fresh.

  "Hey, Pete," I asked him, "yesterday, you called the zombies something different, but I can't remember what it was. Remind me?"

  He chuckled. "I called them bees. Lydia had a bad case of kinemortophobia."

  "Kinemorto-what?"

  "Kinemortophobia. It's the fear of zombies."

  "Get the fuck outta here," exclaimed Vinny. "Who doesn't have a fear of zombies nowadays?"

  "I'm talking before the world fell apart. I took her to see one of the Of the Dead movies and she freaked out. It got so bad that she couldn't even hear the word zombie without having a panic attack. Finally, we just stopped using the word. We made a joke out of it and called them killer bees. Bees for short."

  * * *

  In the days that followed, we secretly fed Peter the lion's share of meals. His pallor returned to normal and, while we would never get fat on the small portions we ate, his sunken abdomen began to fill in as his body no longer needed to feed on itself.

  New Year's came and went without celebration. Holidays were a thing from our old lives; they had no place in our new ones. Those days spent with family held only sad memories.

  We didn't harbor any hope that Sanibel had survived the outbreak, but we had to see it with our own eyes. It was a mistake; I know that now, to have gone back. When our island haven came into view, there was no question it had become a home to the dead. The beach was riddled with staggering and crawling forms. For fear of recognizing a loved one, we remained at a distance. None of us wanted to be raped of our memories of them, and seeing them as one of the mindless shamblers would do just that.

  Black smoke still rose from behind the row of homes lining the shore. Something had burned and judging by the amount of smoke, it had taken out everything else nearby. Some of the zombies visible on the beach were blackened, skin and clothes charred from the fire.

  Our spirits had been lifted in the past week, only to be dampened once again by the depressing scene before us. The five of us stood on deck, huddled close for support, and with that last look into the wasteland that had once been a place of happiness, Jake turned the boat around.

  "Well," Vinny confirmed, "that sucked."

  "Truer words, my man," agreed Peter. "Truer words."

  "Holy shit!" shouted Jake.

  "Will you look at that?" Peter stared in astonishment at the water in front of us.

  I let out a gasp. Like that movie Titanic, a cruise liner, still smoldering in places, had its ass end in the air. The front of the ship was completely submerged. Floating all around the vessel's carcass were bodies, a few motionless, but most not. Four lifeboats were visible, and I knew by the condition of the bodies that moved in the small crafts that they were zombies.

  "My God," exclaimed Meg, "What happened?"

  Jake, using his powers of perception, shared his take on the tragedy. "They all have life vests on, every one of them. They must have been trying to launch all the boats."

  Vinny added to his theory. "They must not have been fast enough. All but a few boats are still in place. Just like on land, it swept the ship like a plague."

  "They didn't stand a chance," I muttered. "Those poor bastards."

  "I'm going below deck," Meg said.

  First the island and now this were just too much for Meg. I couldn't blame her, I felt the same way, but I just couldn't peel my eyes away from the carnage.

  The sound of a body colliding with the hull drew us out of the trancelike state we'd fallen into. The sound made me jump, and my skin crawled as a thousand dead faces turned toward us. I took a step back, then another, and tore my eyes away, seeking out Jake. "Get us out of here. This is too fucked up."

  The boat made a wide arc around the floating cemetery, and I let out a big breath of relief when we were clear of the ship. Peter stumbled to a seat and plopped himself down.

  "Jesus," he cried. "Two months Lydia and I spent on that sailboat, and not once did we see anything, much less something of that caliber
." The scene was humbling, for all of us.

  Meg rejoined us for dinner, and we spent much of the meal in silence. The silence thing seemed to happen a lot lately. At one time I would have fought to fill every moment with conversation, but the apocalypse had changed me, and I found myself spending a lot of time reflecting.

  My brother-in-law broke the silence with the question on everyone's mind. "What now?"

  We all just gaped at him, waiting for someone else to answer.

  "Seriously," he said, "what's next? We're almost out of food and water; we've got days left at most."

  "Vin," I prodded, "can we figure this out tomorrow? It's been a sucky day and I'm spent."

  * * *

  I slept like the dead, and for the first time in months, I hadn't woken from night terrors. Was this because I was just too damn tired, or had I become desensitized to the horrors bestowed on us? Either way, I was thankful for the rest.

  The sounds of laughter pulled me from my slumber; I was alone in the bed and experienced a brief moment of panic when I realized Daphne wasn't with me. I had become accustomed to Jake waking early, but Daphne would always be snuggled up with me. Not having her there to greet me felt foreign.

  I heard a loud splash, and jumped to my feet, crouching like a sprinter ready to spring at the starting bell of a race. Before I could move, the laughter began again. Male voices whooped and hollered, and I smiled at the tinkling sound of Meg giggling. The rigidity left my muscles, and I slid on a pair of shorts before joining them on the upper deck just in time to see Peter disappearing off the back of the boat.

  "Good morning sleepy head," Jake greeted me, wrapping his arms around me in a playful hug and lifting me from my feet.

  "Oof," I groaned, "too tight. Can't. Breathe." He put me down before I could complain about my shirt getting wet from his hug.

  Jake was like an energized child. He wore a huge goofy grin on his face. The sight of my husband so happy filled me with joy; the excitement was contagious, and I had no idea why we were all so chipper.

  Meg joined us, clad in wet clothes that clung to her petite frame and formed a puddle around her feet when she stood still.

  "Someone," she said, drawing out the word like an accusation while she tilted her neck toward Vinny, "got up early and planned some fun for us all."

  Curious, I let out a, "Hmm," and looked around for the 'fun' like I was hunting Easter eggs. The hot tub was full of sea water.

  Vinny climbed the ladder from the lower deck, water pouring off him, and gave me a full-toothed smile. Kinda creepy, actually.

  "But wait; there's more!" His voice reminded me of a late night infomercial announcer, and I had to laugh. "Jake, show the lady what's behind door number two."

  "With pleasure!" Jake walked to the back of the boat. Following him, I heard the sound of trickling water and cocked my head to the side in confusion.

  Then I saw what all the hoopla was about. The sunlight danced off a small stream of water on the slide. My smile broadened. Vinny had figured out how to turn on the water-slide. A long time ago, I'd attempted to go down a slide at a friend's house without the water feature turned on. I don't recommend doing this. My ass made a screeching sound on the plastic as I propelled down, screaming the entire way in pain rather than excitement. Ass burn, people, enough said. I never made that mistake again, and I walked funny for days after.

  My thoughts went dark when I peered over the railing to the ominous water below. Contrary to popular belief, not all water in Florida is crystal clear like a Caribbean resort. In fact, most of the water in our area was a muddy brown with only inches of visibility. My anxiety shot up as Meg flew past me, yipping with glee, and went under. The seconds until she reappeared, laughing, were the longest of my life and I let out the breath I'd been holding in a forceful gust.

  "Holy crap! It's freezing!"

  I turned, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart, and found Daphne standing in front of me doing her trademark full-butt wag and looking like a drowned rat. My mouth formed an exaggerated circle, and I held out my hands shaking them toward the dog as I gurgled out an exasperated AHHH sound. I shook my hands between the dog and Jake, never closing my mouth, and continued to make that weird noise. Anyone who's ever seen Ace Ventura: Pet Detective will remember him doing something similar when he got shot in the legs.

  "You took the dog down the slide?" I sputtered out accusingly at Jake, who wore the look of a guilty man.

  Putting his hands up to deflect the blame, he defended himself the best way he knew how. He let someone else take the fall. "It wasn't me. Pete did it!"

  "Oh, hell no, man. I'm not taking that bullet for you. Take it like a man." He slapped Jake on the back.

  "Okay, fine, it was me. But she pressured me into it!"

  "Right. I can see that. Not!" I softened a bit. She did look like a happy drowned rat after all. I pulled Jake off to the side, not wanting the others to hear our conversation. "What if one of them is in the water?" I asked.

  "We're too far off shore and the water's too deep here for that to be an issue. Even if the bottom was covered with them, they wouldn't be able to get near us. We need this, Em. Look at them, look how happy they are."

  He was right, once again. Damn, I really hated when he made sense. The others looked as if they didn't have a care in the world. The joy on their faces from this small victory was plainly visible.

  I was afraid of the water before the end of the world; there was no way I was going down that slide. Forget zombies, Jaws kept me on dry land.

  The sun was still high enough to heat the water in the newly-filled hot tub so that it wasn't a shock to my system when I lowered myself into its contoured seat.

  "This is heavenly," I admitted. "Now all I need is a bar of soap and my life will be complete." Jake slid into the seat next to me, and we were soon joined by everyone else. I bent my legs to let Daphne stand on my knees, half submerged. Jake flicked water at her, and she kept snapping at the flying droplets trying to catch them. With my head resting on the built-in pillow, I closed my eyes and soaked up the relaxing sun. Every once in a while I heard Jake snap at the dog to stop drinking the water.

  "Too bad we can't turn on the bubbles," said Meg wistfully.

  "Who says we can't?" proclaimed Vinny. We waited for him to flip a switch, but he didn't move. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. He moved, slightly leaned to one side, and a second later the water bubbled beside him.

  "Vinn-y!" screamed Meg, dragging out the Y sound in his name in a high-pitched shriek.

  Both Jake and Vinny were laughing uncontrollably, Meg was shrieking, and Peter stared open-mouthed at my brother-in-law, aghast at his contribution to the tub.

  When their laugher died down, I looked at Jake and asked, "So where are we exactly?"

  "Halfway between Fort Myers and Cape Coral. The Cape Coral Bridge is over there." He pointed over my shoulder and I looked, squinting to make out the destroyed bridge. A shudder ran through my body, thinking of the last time I was on the bridge searching for Jake. The day Sanchez was bitten and hid it from us, only to turn and kill nearly all our people inside Target.

  Jake continued on, "I think we should head south to the shopping district and do some scouting. It seems like residential areas are bad news. Maybe we'll have some luck in less populated areas of town."

  "We'll need to go sooner than later, like tomorrow," added Vinny. "I don't like cutting it so close with rations."

  His statement sobered us. It was one thing to spitball ideas about venturing into the dangerous city, but putting a deadline on it made it real and far too scary for my liking. No discussion was needed; we would all be going on the trip. For one, I wasn't letting any of my family out of my site, and Peter, well he seemed great, but I didn't trust him enough to leave him alone with the boat.

  I looked down at Daphne, inconspicuously taking random licks at the salty water, and knew I would not leave her behind. Without a guarantee someone would be here to car
e for her should anything happen to me, I couldn't bear the thought of her starving to death alone on the houseboat. It was going to be a fight, but either way it was a lose/lose situation. One of those we're damned if we do, we're damned if we don't times. Not wanting to ruin the afternoon, I decided to hold off on my revelation until the last possible moment.

  Daphne let out a yip, reminding Jake she was still waiting for him to resume his water flicking. As the bark escaped, a little nugget of poop fell out of her bum and landed in the water with a plop, essentially clearing the tub of its inhabitants in record time. She had the audacity to look offended when I put her down on the deck.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry. What did you expect to happen after bombing us? Here, let me get that for you…bitch." Grabbing the net, I scooped the floater out of the water and tossed it overboard.

  "I am not going back in that thing until it's drained and cleaned," proclaimed Meg. They all looked at me.

  Great, just what I wanted to do.

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it tomorrow."

  Chapter 06: Polly Want A Cracker?

  Vinny surprised us all by cooking breakfast the next morning. The smell of fish still made my stomach turn, but I learned early on that a full stomach is better than an empty stomach. While he slaved away at the stove, I escaped to the upper deck with Daphne. A girl's gotta poop after all. That girl, not this one.

  The scenery had changed and we were closer to shore. Someone had packed supplies into five bags, and a sixth empty bag lay next to them; Daphne's bag. Seeing it lessened the feeling of dread I didn't realize was building inside me.

  We ate breakfast in the galley, Jake going over the plan one last time. "We paddle to shore, and starting with the closest building; we fill the hockey bag with food and water. Like last time, melee weapons only. I packed the firearms, but stealth is imperative. I don't want to be out there a second longer than absolutely necessary. We all know the risks."