There was a spare set of keys in the office drawer, so I let myself up there. The stairwell ended with another door. Scratching and moaning, the apartment’s residents were right on the other side. I couldn’t figure out how to open the door with my spear ready to go. I made the fucking thing too long. It was awkward in my hand. That’s what I get for never actually being the badass that I talked myself up to be. I stood there like an ass for a good hour waiting for the magic idea to come to me that would make this whole thing play out like an action movie.
You know where I am the hero and I slay the bad guys with ease. In the movies I would open the door and in some move that shows off my skill and badassery I would kill two or three bad guys with one slice. I would also have an automatic that I found in some convenient trip to just the right place. This isn’t the movies, so here I stand with my weak ass spear that I don’t really know how to use.
I got it through my thick skull that I wasn’t going to figure out a better way to do this, so I better just open the door and deal with what was on the other side. I grabbed the knob and as I twisted I took a few steps back. The first one through the doorway was an old man, tiny little thing. I tossed him over my shoulder and down the stairs as he lunged at me. His wife sped at me next, she only had speed because I was downhill and she must have weighed 350 lbs. in life. I got my spear up just in time, and she took it right between the eyes. How’s that for badass?
She went limp, and tumbled towards me. I had to brace my foot against the wall to pull my spear back out of her skull. What a freaking mess. I can’t explain to you what comes out of these thing, it’s not blood. It’s more like goo. As I wrestled my spear out of her brain, her scrawny ass husband was pulling himself up the stairs. Once the weapon was free, I sent her flying down on top of him. He was pinned at the bottom step underneath his behemoth of a bride. That was a hell of a sight. With him stuck all I had to do was walk down the steps, and skewer his head. In an instant, it was over. Kind of like putting down a dog; a rabid, flesh eating, dead person dog.
The apartment stunk like death. I opened all the windows. Being on the second floor of a building allowed that luxury. The owners of the building should have put a fire escape out one of the windows, but they did not. I have never been so happy that someone was a cheap ass bastard. I went room to room and when I got to the kid’s room I threw up. I don’t know, Mom and Dad turned and ate the kids I guess. Gross shit. There wasn’t much left, just a room painted with airplanes covered in blood. I’ve seen a lot of shit, but that shit is going to haunt me.
No smokes. Not one lousy pack. I told you this shit never works out like the movies. In a movie I would have found a carton of my brand sitting right on the counter as a reward for the fight I just went through. There would probably have been a hot blond spread eagle on the bed holding a bottle of Jack too. Life ain’t like a movie; I got no smokes and a baby massacre as my reward. It’s one lousy son of a bitch, it is.
That’s when the caravan went through. I got to watch from the second story window as they hauled ass outta town. Gave me an idea, though. I’m gonna pack one of them bug out bags I heard about before the whole world went to shit. The next time I see a living person driving down Main Street, I’m hitching a ride. Maybe it’ll be a hot blonde with a bottle of Jack. Yea, that would be fan-fucking-tastic.
Jessica
It’s been like a police state here. Vincent and his cronies rule with an iron fist. In the beginning it made sense to me, but the more I watched the worse I felt about the whole set up. As a group we gained a large portion of the island back. Vincent had them set up lines of defense. We gained more living every day, and eradicated more of the dead. Vincent quickly became “The Captain” and the rest of us became his crew. I shouldn’t really complain because personally I have not been treated poorly. This is due to Vincent’s need to archive his rise to power. I will be his personal biographer.
What I have seen him do to others has made my heart break. In this new island society if you are on the wrong side of The Captain then you are accused of being infected and shot. His mood swings are intense and knowing what will land you on the death list is impossible. I can’t put any of this in the book he has me writing. I just write of how he is doing the hard things to keep us safe. That these decisions are what has made him an extraordinary leader. The Captain is the only man for the job. That is what I am being forced to write. This is the largest work of fiction I have ever worked on.
Everyone on this side of the line has a job assigned to them. The Captain’s men evaluate what your skills are and from there you are put in training for one of the work units. This is a really efficient system. The largest men were put on the line or on the hunting crews. Anyone with any fabrication or machinist knowledge was put to work in the shop. There they fixed the items found in the sweeps, or made new items such as wind turbines from materials found. There were people assigned to scavenge, fish, cook, take care of the kids, and even a morale committee. Not everything that this regime did was bad, it was just the bad things overshadowed the good. We all became sheep following a madman.
Vincent grew each day in his megalomania. One evening he called me to his headquarters to hear the story of his ill-fated fishing trip. Walking into the office was like being called to the king’s throne room. There was an expectation that you would act as if you were standing before the second coming. His blue eyes held a hint of madness, but his overall demeanor was that of someone who was larger than life. His grandness grew every day as his kingdom expanded. The destruction of the society we had all known had brought Vincent into a power that he seemed destined to hold.
“You sent for me?” I shyly mumbled from across the room.
“Jessica, yes, I wanted to have you write something for me. I need to get this out while the memories are fresh. Everyday a small detail disappears and I feel they are all needed to tell the story with the completeness that it deserves.”
I sat down opposite from him at the large oak desk that served as him throne. Whatever he was going to tell was sure to be filled with the twists and bias of a man who believes his greatness is preordained. I fidgeted with the pencil I held as I prepared myself mentally for the lies I was about to be told. The notebook on my lap felt like a traitor, but it was I who was the liar, weaving this man’s story.
“We were having one of the best trips of my life when the call came in over the radio. Ships were in distress everywhere. There was chaos out there, and the coast guard was unable to deal with the enormity of the situation. I couldn’t see what was happening with just a call over the radio. I saw dollar signs. I saw myself riding a new Harley after raking in an insane amount of cash for the catch we had pulled in. We had a crew meeting and Cap decided that we would finish our allotted days and then turn back towards shore. Our satellite phone had been broken by some shitbag deck hand a few trips back and Cap never got around to getting a replacement. We only had the radio, no news from land so we couldn’t know how bad things had gotten. Some of the crew wanted to turn back, felt like there was a bad omen in the air. I voted with Cap, and our vote ruled out return.
Late that night when I was in the wheelhouse Earl comes up to tell me that Mike is sick. We were only on our second night, and I wasn’t turning around because one of the guys had gotten a little green. Earl suggested that I give the kid the night off. It was fine by me, but he would have to clear it with the other two guys on deck. One guy leaves and everybody else has to work that much harder. No one had a problem with it. They saw how sick the kid was, and didn’t want to catch whatever he had. Problem with being on a boat with someone who is sick are the tight quarters.
Mike went to bed that night and died. Now that doesn’t seem so strange, but then it was a tragedy. Cap wanted us to turn back and take him to his fiancé. She was going to ask what happened, and we weren’t going to have any answers. We left him in his bunk as we hauled ass home. It was an 8 hour trip back in, and we made it 6 when Mike woke up. We
hadn’t shut the door to his bunk, and he had stumbled into the galley. There he got a jump on Roger. He killed Roger. Ate a good amount of him before Tim walked in on it. Tim started screaming and Mike got a bite out of him before shock wore off and his feet were able to work again. He ran out of there and into the wheelhouse.
Lou and Anthony were sitting on the deck bullshitting and smoking when Tim ran past them. They followed Tim, Anthony grabbing the first aid kit on his way. No one believes Tim’s story about Mike reanimating and eating Roger. Even with the large bite on his shoulder we all dismissed it as a psychiatric break due to the stress of Mike’s sudden death. The fact that the Mike zombie wasn’t beating down our doors to eat our brains also led us to think he had lost his mind. We didn’t know that zombies couldn’t climb ladders. The galley was down one wet, swaying ladder. That was enough to keep him where he was.
I sent Anthony and Lou down to see what was really going on. I sent those men to their deaths, and I will never forgive myself for it. That is why I am so careful now. No one ever goes anywhere without good scouting first. No more finding out what is behind door number one. I wish I knew then what I know now, because it would have never played out the way that it did. Anthony was bitten first. Mike was waiting at the bottom of the ladder and the minute Anthony stepped within biting height Mike had his ankle in his mouth. He fell down the ladder and trying to catch himself, got Lou by the ankle, and pulled him down too.
Lou managed to get partially back up before Mike took a bite of his leg. He made it on deck, but couldn’t get much further on his own. I had to go down and carry him into the wheelhouse. That’s when I looked down the hole and saw Mike killing Anthony. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a man die at the hands of another, fishermen are a rough group, but it was by far the most vicious. Mike was the predator, and Anthony was the prey. It was like a kill on the nature channel, no emotion, just death.
So far we had 3 dead crewmates. Mike was dead but alive somehow, and Anthony and Roger were gone. Cap and Earl were still down with Mike but they were separated from him by a solid metal door. I had Tim and Lou both but up in the wheelhouse with me. I stopped the boat 2 hours out from shore. We weren’t moving until I got things under control. I needed to get Cap and Earl safe. There was no way I was leaving 2 men down there with that monster. I left the boys in the wheelhouse and went to look down the ladder. I needed to see if there was anything I could do to stop him. Lou was looking worse than Tim when I left. He had a fever and was sweating like crazy.
I get to the top of the ladder and I hear the door open between quarters and the galley. Cap went all Rambo and tried to take Mike on with a metal pipe he found somewhere. Cap was a huge man. Not big, huge. He could take on 4 or 5 guys in a bar fight and come away without a scratch. He took Mike down with one giant swing to his head. Crashed that pipe right through his skull. Once Mike was put down, Earl and Cap made their way to the deck. We weren’t sure if he was going to come back to life again. Hell, we didn’t know anything then.
Earl just kept freaking out. He curled up in a ball on the deck and mumbled to himself the whole time Cap and I tried to figure out what was going on. We started talking options, and both agreed that we needed to get the dead off the boat. We couldn’t chance another incident. So Cap and I went down the ladder and carried our 3 guys up. We laid them on the deck, said a few words, and then tossed them overboard. We both figured we would catch shit for it later, but to hell with that, no dead on the boat. Earl quieted down once the bodies were off the boat. I’m pretty sure it was shock, because he just stared off blank eyed.
I went up to check on the boys that were bitten. They were both sick now and looked a lot like Mike did before he turned all killer zombie on us. I shut the door to the wheelhouse and informed Cap that we had 2 more men to deal with. By now it was morning, and we were both out of energy or ideas. I know we should have tried to get back to shore, and get them fixed up but neither of us could navigate the waters as tired as we were. We agreed on a quick nap, then back to shore. Judge us if you want, turns out that it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. They would have died no matter what.
I’ve never slept as hard as I did that morning. It wasn’t just me, Cap and Earl were out cold too. By the time Earl woke me up it was night. He didn’t want to go up and check on the boys alone. Earl isn’t cut out for zombies. He’s just not built that way. Cap and I got a large flashlight and went to the wheelhouse. There was blood covering the windows. Through the mess I could see Lou chewing on what used to be Tim. He must have turned first and gone after Tim before he died of whatever it is that is killing everyone. Now we had a zombie to kill in the wheelhouse. Not a great place to have to kill somebody. It’s a tight squeeze, so there isn’t a lot of room for swinging pipes.
We had to come up with another plan. We were dead in the water until we could regain control of that room. The nice thing about a fishing boat is the abundance of shit that can kill you. All we needed to do was find the right tool for the job. Cap decides that a large knife is our best bet. We both armed ourselves, warned Earl what was about to happen, and took off towards our target. Cap stormed the room first. He said it was his boat, and he was getting it back. I was right behind him. I never felt so alive in my life. This was some crazy shit and I was about to do the most insane thing I had ever done. For once I was doing it for the right reasons.
Lou gets Cap by the arm immediately. Sinking his teeth in, he got Cap off the offensive in one bite. I come up behind him and as I am about to slice his throat, he turns his head and chomps on my wrist. It was a quick bite, but it was a bite. I used my other arm to pull him off and stabbed straight through his eye. He went down like a bag of bricks. Cap and I looked at each other. We were both screwed. The only one left with a chance was Earl. He couldn’t drive the boat; he was just a deckhand and a new one at that. We had to figure out a way to get him back to land. Cap looked sick right away.
We decided that we would give Earl a crash course in running the boat. Once we got sick enough we would jump ship if you know what I mean. We couldn’t leave the kid to fight off zombies. Cap would have made one hell of a zombie. As big as he was he would have been the king of the zombies. After a few hours of talking to Earl about what to do I noticed Cap was getting sicker and I wasn’t getting it at all. No fever, not even a headache. Earl noticed too. He started saying that training him was useless, and I should get him back. Crazy fuck, he knew before I did that I was different. Cap made it through the night, but by morning it was time to say goodbye.
I kept waiting to feel sick but didn’t. I had to look at my friend, my drinking buddy. The man I have fought beside more times than I can count. The guy I trusted with my life and say goodbye. Cap was a better man than I, and it didn’t seem fair that I was going to live when he wasn’t. We both knew it was time, and true to himself Cap said he was going out the way he wanted, not the way the others had. He took a giant swig of whiskey and dove off the side of the boat. Earl and I stood there for a really long time. It felt like I had lost a brother and I wasn’t ready to move yet.
Earl and I stayed out at sea for another 3 days. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to get sick. I knew if I did I would be bringing a plague back to the island I loved. I spent those days pondering why I was still alive. Why should a flawed man like me be the one that lives? I began to realize my purpose. That I was special. I am the future of our species. I was not weak like the others. God had created me different, and I am to be the way we live through all of this. I am the answer, and everyone else is to follow me. There can be no other reason to explain why I am immune to something that kills everyone else.”
He stared at me with those piercing blue eyes. He was waiting my response. What could I say? The man was insane. The power he has taken has rotted away his sanity like the illness rots away the people it kills. All I could do was look away and hope he would release me from that room. None of that story could be true. That was the only thing I knew for sure
.
Amy
All of our scouting has paid off. We are on the road now with more than enough supplies. It wasn’t an easy task. It took a lot longer than Garett really wanted it to, but we got everything on our lists and more. The truck was the hardest thing to come by. Getting it packed up was an event too. We were lucky enough to find a newer SUV parked in the garage of one of the houses we were going through. They even left the keys hanging on a hook right next to the door. Talk about convenient.
It only had a quarter of a tank of gas, and I wasn’t sure how far that was going to get us. After we found it, and drove it back to the house we had to wait 3 more days for the dead that followed us home to get bored before we could go syphon gas from other cars. I didn’t have a garage so our best option was to back it up to the front porch and load it up over a few days. That was fine by me, but the kids were antsy about getting on the road. I, on the other hand, was growing more nervous every day. My dreams were filled with worst case scenarios.
Garett showed every chance that he could how valuable he really was. That kid is a great scout. He can spot the dead a mile away, and finds supplies even when well hidden. His memory is fantastic, and I never had to remind him what we were looking for. Most of the time it was him reminding me, or adding to the lists. My nephew, who was just a child a few months ago, is my right hand man now. I don’t know if I could have done any of this without him. Sometimes it seems like he has been training his whole life for a scenario like this.
Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales Page 6