by C A Gleason
But the ship was not there. No ships were. Left port already by people who had the same idea or sank. Sea water wasn’t kind to stagnant boats. Especially ones the size of a cruise ship.
In the emptiness of where it should have been, there were waves and a sun peeking over the water. Once again, the assurance of a new day. One of many more to come.
Hopefully.
Which was good enough for anyone. Everyone who’d survived.
The beauty of the scenery couldn’t make them forget those who’d been lost, but there was happiness for those who had survived the drive to the North Sea: Heike, Henry, Sven, Salgado, Donnelly, Bernard, Philip, and herself.
Thinking of her Jonah throbbed painfully somewhere in Doreen’s stomach and chest. Everywhere inside her really. He’d been a part of her and always would be. Especially the one part of him remaining. Tiny still, but growing.
Doreen hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him. She wondered if it was a boy or a girl. Months from now, she would know.
When Salgado jumped down from the gunner’s hatch onto the pavement, he stumbled and nearly fell, getting laughs out of those already out of the vehicles.
“Yeah, real funny. I could have cracked my head open.”
The laughs did not subside as Heike went running toward the sea.
“Not too close,” Doreen told her.
Doreen appreciated Heike’s curiosity. If Doreen had never witnessed such a large body of water before, she would feel the same way.
“It’s beautiful!” Heike said. “Opa, hold my hand?”
“Sure, kiddo,” Henry said.
Taking his granddaughter’s small hand in his, both of them walked to get a closer look.
“I’m going to make a feast to celebrate this,” Bernard said.
“We barely have any food left,” Salgado said.
“Plenty of fish in the sea.”
Hearing Bernard, Henry glanced back, and Doreen knew her dad was thinking of her mom. Jonah, her husband, was gone too. If only he could have lived to see sea water once again. Seas lead to oceans, and an ocean was a place Jonah spoke of with affection and often.
The others stretched or drank water from canteens or relieved themselves out of sight. It had been a long drive.
After a while, Henry and Heike came back, and everyone congregated as a group, looking at one another in silence. Until the quiet got too uncomfortable for Salgado.
“Well, what the heck do we do now?” Salgado said. “I mean, what happens next?”
Henry eyed him. “We go our own way I suppose.”
Salgado looked out to the sea and was probably about to ask how and where and on what nonexistent boat, but a sound drew his attention and he turned.
An engine, although it wasn’t a pickup truck. Or a UV. Or any vehicle they recognized.
“Holy crap,” Salgado said. “Am I seeing a ghost?”
Doreen turned too, and someone was riding a motorcycle, driving it right toward them. It was obvious the man’s beard needed trimming.
His army green cold-weather jacket and pants were tattered and looked dragged through the mud, but still intact enough to keep him warm.
When he was close enough to them and everyone could see one another’s smiles, he switched off the ignition of the street bike. He kicked the kickstand down, legging off it.
He looked exhausted, near to falling over, and was stained with dirt and dried blood head to toe.
CHAPTER 29
Where there is a spark, there is potential for a blaze. There were so many rushing predators, it was as if he were witnessing a tornado passing overhead. Starving hunger was the driving force within all of them, the nucleus. Without being sated, it was unending.
The scarcity of their food, blood, so few humans, is what saved me.
And the sheer amount of them, their instincts forcing advancement of their kind as much as it was to feed.
Were it a few, especially one, and it latched onto him and fed for minutes, and he weren’t armed with a machete, he would have died. But they’d fought over him. And being dragged in different directions caused them to group together.
As a result of the tremendous weight of all their pounding, running, and clawed footsteps, the area near him, the ground—as they were not careful with their potential meal—collapsed. But Jonah didn’t fall alone.
They fell along with him, but luckily, he rolled under an outcropping. Molters climbed out to rejoin the rampaging horde, impossible to distinguish the scent of him from one another. It gave him a few minutes to rest. Well-needed rest.
Because of how tired he was, he knew he’d lost a lot of blood. It gave him the opportunity to apply the field dressing in the cargo pocket of his waterproof cold-weather pants. It had been in there for years. Along with the five-fifty cord he’d located at the military base in Oberstein.
While above ground and being dragged in different directions, the thickness of his cold-weather clothing and where he’d gotten bit kept him protected enough to remain alive. He must have been bitten by over a dozen Molters.
Although he’d been bitten a lot and badly—his body throbbed in different places head to legs—none of the Molters fed on him long enough to drain him. The ones feeding on him longest had lost their hold when he’d fallen into the cave.
Jonah had heard of people surviving Molter attacks. Henry was one of them. Even though he knew it was possible, Jonah honestly never thought he would survive if he were attacked. And when he’d imagined the scenario, it was by a lone Molter.
Still, he wasn’t tip-top, nowhere near full-strength, so he needed to be extra cautious.
Within the confined space, there was growling so loud it was deafening. Loud enough to dampen the squall of the predators rushing above.
Jonah had fallen into a cave similar to the one he’d discovered near the cabin. It was when he’d learned the green Molters were each an Infector bomb. The underground dwelling had saved his life.
Maybe it was how the convoy had been overwhelmed so quickly. It would explain how Molters could seemingly appear out of nowhere. Maybe they didn’t only bury victims. Maybe they lived in underground caves they discovered, or even dug their own.
And after the weight of the horde crushed the ground and sent Jonah beneath it, thankfully it was away from the masses.
There were still Molters to deal with, ones yet to notice him, and thankfully, he’d held onto the machete.
It was nearly identical to the one he used before, years ago, to kill a Behemoth after ramming it with a truck. And the one he’d flung at Perry within the walls of Fort Perry. Jonah was always mentally prepared to fight Molters.
Knowing he needed to gain the upper hand quickly, and also not much of what remained of the field dressing left, he wrapped it around the tip of the blade.
Then he lit the field dressing on fire using the lighter always in his pocket.
After scooting out from under the outcropping, thankful the rushing horde above hadn’t collapsed it on top of him, he raised the fiery blade.
Flames reflected off predatory glares locked on him.
Though weak, he lunged, using what energy he had left to chop at heads and faces and hack through veiny arms.
Claws lashed out, intent on dragging him to their ravenous mouths encircled by curved teeth, the steel traps of the Molting.
Jonah felt like he could collapse at any moment, so he let the sharpness of the machete do the work. He always kept his blades razor sharp.
He took advantage of them being as stunned to suddenly be in a cave as he was. Except Jonah was different than them. He had something to live for: a family. He heard himself grunting as he killed them.
Eventually yelling with as much frustration as their snarling and growling, angry at himself for failing at his mission to keep his people safer by going along with them. He should be in the UV protecting them still.
By attacking the horde, using himself as bait, as a distraction, Jonah had inadvertentl
y put his people in more danger because he hadn’t communicated his plan—there hadn’t been time—and of course they weren’t about to leave him behind.
Unless he was dead.
Exhausted, he allowed the machete to lower to his side.
The blade was covered in gore. The Molters were in three times as many pieces. The heat of their blood and entrails and openness of gashes steamed upward toward the dim light.
The speeding vehicles had lured the horde away. One upon thousands and thousands followed after the other.
He waited for hours and still heard some running the same direction. There must have been millions.
Billions?
Eventually day dimmed and he couldn’t see light anymore. Climbing out wasn’t so difficult as the cave was not so deep. But right after emerging above in the dark of night, he was tackled by a lone Molter, a straggler of the horde. It was waiting for him.
A lone Molter taking him by surprise. It was what he’d always feared.
Except he’d been killing them for years. Even though he held a machete, Jonah kneed it in the teeth, feeling their sharpness puncture his skin through his army green pants.
As it struggled to get upright, Jonah stomped on its head. Not enough force to crush the skull completely, but enough to kill it.
Angrily, he kicked its body and it disappeared into the blackness of the cave when it fell below.
If another Molter attacked, he didn’t think he would have the strength to fend it off. After inspecting all around him, thankfully there were no more. At least none he could see.
The openness of the road and grassy hills on both sides were trampled down and flat. Scorches marked, where the grenades had long burned out.
Jonah had survived. For how much longer, he could not know.
Initially he ran in the same direction the vehicles had gone, and also the creatures. But then he remembered. He did an about-face, running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Toward the motorcycle they’d passed.
Another mission commissioned by the battle instincts of his inner radar. He must always remember the commitment he’d made to Doreen. But also, the promise he’d made to her father, Henry.
Not to die.
CHAPTER 30
His wife could care less about how filthy he was. Doreen ran and leaped into his arms, kissing and hugging him.
“I knew you were still alive,” Doreen said. “I knew it.”
Jonah kissed her.
“Nice chopper, homie,” Salgado said.
“Thanks, pal.”
Doreen leaned around Jonah, inspecting the motorcycle. “I didn’t know you could ride one of those.”
“I rode dirt bikes when I was a kid. Same thing.”
“Let me guess; the fuel tank was full and the keys were in it?”
Jonah shrugged, and Doreen shook her head and smirked.
“How’d you even find us?” Salgado said.
“First port north. It was my idea.”
“But you’ve never been here before.”
“Because he’s part cat and he sensed where we are.” Doreen’s joy turned, and she began sobbing. “We left you!”
Jonah immediately embraced her, holding her close, an attempt to silence her regret. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. For those who made it this far alive. And I made the decision it would be one less long ago. If it came to that.”
“Listen up with those big ears of yours. Long ago you weren’t married to me. Now you are. Remember that, too.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will.”
When Jonah glanced in Heike’s direction, she buried her tearful face into his side, grappling her arms around him and Doreen both. Jonah dropped an arm over her shoulders.
“I thought,” Heike gasped. “I thought—you were . . .”
“I’m here. Everything’s going to be OK. OK?”
Heike looked up at him, unable to stifle her emotion, but nodded.
“You kept your promise,” Henry said.
Not to die. For Doreen, but also for all of you, sir. Jonah hadn’t forgotten. “Yes, sir.”
Salgado pointed at him. “You and I and anyone else who wants to, is gonna have to have a drink together real soon.”
“I gave up drinking.”
“Oh. Well, I definitely need one. You celebrate with us. You watch while we, whoever,” Salgado pointed at others, who nodded, “will do the drinking.”
“You got it.”
Jonah took a step back but soon found himself squashed at the center of the biggest group hug of his life, led by Henry who somehow had his arms around everyone.
Doreen was always astonished by her husband’s resilience. His strength and perseverance. So after the group hug, it was quite shocking to witness him sink to his knees and begin sobbing uncontrollably. He’d seen something.
She turned to look out into the shimmery waves of the North Sea.
An aircraft carrier nosed toward them. It was far away, but close enough to make out its form in the distance on the water.
Then two fighter jets slashed overhead leaving a roaring wake rumbling the sky.
“Molter-effin-killers!” Salgado shouted.
“What kind of aircraft are those?” Heike asked.
“Who cares, little girl?”
“Thank you,” Jonah said to the ground, tears trickling into his beard and dripping off his nose onto the pavement. “Thank you . . . Thank you.”
Doreen dropped a hand on Jonah’s head and ran her fingers through his thick brown hair.
Salgado wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed. “You did it, brother.”
Jonah looked up at Salgado, holding Doreen’s hand and standing. “We did.”
Thinking back to the thunderstorm before Jonah left on his mission to find a safer place to live, he believed he’d heard aircraft. Now he was sure he’d been correct. On occasion, he’d sometimes mistaken thunder and storms for jet engines while he was awake.
But not while he was asleep.
The deeper part of his subconscious housed war gears identifying the engines correctly. Maybe now they could go dormant. Possibly for the rest of his life. He hoped so for his sake.
Jonah stood, excited. “I promised myself I would do this. We have to . . .” He felt as excited as a teenager. “How many chem lights do we have?”
“Man, we have so many of these things, I was gonna ask if I could take some home, homie.”
Jonah grabbed the box of chem lights from Salgado. He was so thankful they weren’t left behind. “Heike, everyone, come on. Pass these out. One in each hand. Crack ’em and shake ’em around.”
“Dance party?” Heike said.
“Like at the cabin.”
“But there’s no music.”
“So what?”
“OK. Yay! Let’s wiggle!”
Cracking sounds made the chem lights glow faintly in the day light.
Jonah raised his hands in the air.
“You remember!”
“Sure, I do. I don’t want to be accused of not being a very good dancer ever again.”
“I take it back.”
The men; Bernard, Sven, Philip and Donnelly, but especially Henry, probably would’ve rather headed back south, unarmed, to fistfight Molters and even Behemoths, rather than participate in dancing.
Except Salgado.
“Holy smokes. Now we’re talking. Check this shit—sorry—stuff, out.” Salgado started breakdancing. “I won’t-won’t-won’t be stopped-stopped-stopped. Ah! Pulled something! Worth it!”
“What have you done?” Doreen said as she swayed.
“You heard him,” Jonah laughed. “He can’t be stopped.”
Salgado held his ankle, one arm in the air. “I haven’t danced in years!”
Doreen laughed along with everyone else. “It looks like you’ve been practicing for decades.”
Bernard, Donnelly, Philip, and even Sven, started moving in their own way along with the group, somethin
g they probably hadn’t done in years.
According to Heike’s reaction, she thought they’d never danced during their entire lives. She was about to accuse them, but Jonah shook his head at her.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Henry said.
“Like this, Opa.”
Henry stood still as others danced around him. He looked perturbed as if he might say: Enough of this nonsense. We lost people. We shouldn’t be celebrating.
But it isn’t the first time friends died. For any of us. When most make it back alive, the last thing those who didn’t would want is for the survivors to only feel sadness.
So, what better time to celebrate? For who we lost. For their sacrifice. But especially for ourselves. Because our lives will go on.
Although there was confusion at first, Jonah didn’t have to explain any of it to his father-in-law.
“What if I move them like I’m playing the drums?” Henry said. “Does this count?”
“It’s great!” Heike said. “I’m doing it like you too! You play the drums?”
“When I was a youngster. I think I’m too old for this.”
“Oh, you definitely are, sir,” Salgado said as he snaked his arms, “but who cares?”
“Nobody’s ever too old to dance!” Heike exclaimed.
“The kid’s right. We need to celebrate.” Salgado slowed his moves. “Get something to eat for my hungry belly too. We got M-R-Es still. No offense, Bernard, I know you’re going to make us a feast eventually, but right now I’m going to pick my favorite M-R-E; spaghetti with hot sauce. And I’ll have my favorite dessert; pudding made from M-R-E extras.”
His eyes widened.
“I bet they got some tattoo artists on the aircraft carrier. Or at least some knucklehead who thinks he’s good at it.” Salgado took deep breaths, recuperating from the dance party. “Let’s get a couple M-K tattoos.” His eyes got bigger. “Who’s in?”
CHAPTER 31
They were told they were lucky they arrived when they did. A mission, aboard the aircraft carrier, was planned. A horde was identified and located by air, moving south.