Life Among The Dead (Book 2): A Castle Made of Sand

by Cotton, Daniel

  Items had been moved in before the sun rose--weapons and ammo, what little food they have and dry clothes--anything they feel they may need for the voyage and ultimate arrival. Heather and the boys are already on board. She has them in their stroller with the wheels locked, and she lashes the carrier with bungee cords for added security.

  Oz has a truck tied to the back of the vessel, as per Bruce’s orders. He wishes he hadn’t left Mater in town, but this one will do nicely. He will begin pushing them toward the hill, and then be in charge of lowering them down it while Dan and Carla move the logs they pass over back to the bow.

  “We’re almost there!” Dan calls out. He was feeling much better than yesterday after getting some rest, but now he feels as if his blood is boiling. His head swoons as he and Carla climb onboard.

  Putting the truck in park and setting the emergency brake, Oz also boards their life boat. A machete in hand, he heads aft. He gives the others time to hunker down in preparation for the plunge, then a single chop severs the mooring lines. The big man must grab the rails once gravity takes them into the swift current of the river they will take south.

  The jolting entrance into the Charles almost sends Oz over the side, but he has his strong arms locked around the sturdy railing that surrounds the deck. They are traveling at a quick and surprisingly smooth clip. He acquires his sea legs and calls out to the other crew members, “Everyone all right?”

  “We’re good!” Carla answers after giving her shipmates a once over.

  The river has filled in the trough it had cut long before the dam was erected; New Castle is almost completely under water. Before long, they are passing the spot where their wall once stood, and at the rate they are moving they should be passing Waterloo in just a few hours.

  Using two of the long poles that took the raft down the hill, Carla and Oz explore the depth of the river and find they can’t even touch the bottom yet. These poles are how they will steer when they reach the stretches predicted to be shallow. All eyes look ahead for obstructions and possible dangers. Though Bruce had implemented a bumper system of old tires around the entire craft, they’d rather not test them unnecessarily.

  “According to Bruce, the city will give us the most trouble,” Dan reports with slurred words. “But the Charles should widen just after Gaines. It’ll be slower, keep us to the right… I mean starboard. We’ll go aground, and…”

  “I thought your uncle said to take it all the way to the Gulf?” Heather questions him.

  “I need to get you and the boys to Raleigh.” He has difficulty focusing on her face, and the hardly turbulent water feels like shooting the rapids to him.

  “We will,” she assures him. “We’ll paddle to shore from the Gulf and find a ride back north.”

  “We have to…”

  “Boss, I’m with Heather on this,” Oz says. “No one wants to get there more ’n me. My kids are there…”

  “And, my brother,” Carla adds.

  “Everyone we care about. But we know they’re safe. Raleigh is cleaned out, and all the dead that attacked our town have been wiped out.”

  “No! We need to get there as soon as possible!” The king makes his stand on wobbly legs. His concern for those in attendance is clouding him to the possible dangers of his decision. “I am the captain and I say we land.”

  Glances are exchanged at that, because Dan has never pulled rank before. He never even wanted to be the leader. Trying to stop could be catastrophic, and they know it shouldn’t be risked.

  “No,” Heather belays the order. “We continue south as planned.”

  The sting of the mutiny is bad enough, but for his own wife to rescind his command is comparable to a kick in the groin.

  A figure leaning against the shed adds his two cents to the debate, yet only the delirious king can see or hear him. “I told you when I taught you to play chess, the queen is the most powerful and precious piece on the board.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Honey?” Heather is shocked.

  “Not you. I’m talking to Bruce.”

  “Bruce?” Oz asks. “The dead guy I carried to New Castle?”

  “He might be dead, but he’s still a pain in my ass.” Dan enters the cabin to rest his shivering body. A cramp is forming in his stomach that is making it impossible to remain standing.

  ##

  Drifting in an out of consciousness, while the raft likewise drifts along the river, Dan is racked with severe pains in his abdomen. Between the intense, stabbing bouts, he hears voices he can’t place.

  “They say human bites are the worst…”

  “Perhaps he picked something up from that girl?”

  “That’s what worries me.”

  The pain and confusion abates, and he feels better having rested. He’s getting his second wind, or his third. The world clarifies for the exhausted Dan, who lies on the floor of the shed. Someone had removed the boys from the enclosure, and he hopes he didn’t scare them with his pain-induced wailing.

  Oz’s voice emboldens him to get to his feet, “Heads up. Here comes Waterloo.”

  Despite his crew’s treason against him, they will all fare better if he joins the effort. The city will be treacherous and his only aim is to keep everyone onboard alive. He’d prefer not to take his wife and kids through the dangerous world, but since that isn’t an option he only wishes to make the journey as short as possible. If the consensus is to reach the Gulf then that’s what they’ll do, together.

  A guiding pole in hand, Dan takes in the sight of his old home through burning eyes. The streets are now flowing brooks and channels that babble over cars like rocks in a stream. The team passes over the old levy, then around skyscrapers and cars that hadn’t been washed out in the flood. The river’s new path is straight through the city, and its current picks up where the water must squeeze between buildings and other structures. Debris from the torrent has created rapids and eddies they must negotiate, and one stands out as ironic--the massive plaster cow that once stood outside of Lindsey’s creamery.

  The raft rocks from the swells and falls of the current, while the bottom thuds against unseen dangers. Submerged rubble that remains of this lost civilization. The crew gets the hang of how to handle the fast-moving water, passing the hospital where Oz once worked, and where Vincent was born. They proceed to the recruit depot, where Dan had begun that dreadful day so long ago.

  “The rest should be smooth sailing!” Carla cheers their efforts once they are out of the city.

  Dan’s condition has exacerbated once again from the exertion. He leans against the rails, dizzy beyond comprehension. Hands guide him back into the cabin where Heather and Carla tend to him. As a precaution, the sheriff is armed.

  His mind slips into a stream of memories and bizarre imagery, snippets of the waking world.

  “He’s burning up!” he hears his wife exclaim somewhere far away. “104 degrees.”

  “Put these on him.” Carla joins Heather.

  Cold wet things shock him from his erratic slideshow, and in the flotsam of his thoughts they become the clammy hands of corpses trying to drag down into the mouth of Hell. Brimstone from the gaping pit burns his skin. He fights and resists the cold clutches of death to no avail. They remain as firm as steel in their resolve, taking him deep into the magma.

  ##

  “I got him, Carla,” Oz appears in the room. He places a hand against the king’s chest, pinning him to the floor. His writhing and thrashing has them worried he may hurt himself. “Can you watch the bow for me?”

  Rags moistened with the very water they float in cool Dan down. He had fought against their application, as if they were hurting him. Heather and Oz make eye contact, and he wishes he could offer her reassuring words, but he can’t. He has no idea what’s happening to her husband and doesn’t want to lie to her.

  6

  A beautiful golden glow enters the cabin, almost lost on Dan’s bleary eyes. Gnarled trees cast shadows, casually dappling t
he light. He lies still on sore muscles for a moment, to allow the world to come into focus. Although he feels a bit stronger now, and again more capable, what compels him to rise is what he doesn’t feel, motion. The lazy shadows have ceased.

  A pile of wet rags, warmed by his body heat, fall as he sits up, and their absence gives him a chill. His first steps are slow, because like an animal fresh from hibernation he is groggy. Before he can reach the door he is met by his wife, and the sight of her is a relief as well as a curse. It fills him with joy, but also makes him hungry.

  “How are you?” she asks, dividing the distance between them.

  He shies from her, unable to look her in the eyes when he lies, “Fine.”

  “We think we’re in Florida, or maybe Louisiana,” she tells him. “We didn’t quite make it to the Gulf. The trees got too thick.”

  Carla joins the two, putting an end to an awkward silence that has grown between them. “Look who’s up again. Did Heather tell you we’ve stopped?”

  “Yeah,” Dan replies softly. “Where are the boys?”

  “With our new babysitter,” Carla says, seemingly excited by the odd statement. “We’ve taken on a passenger.”

  “How is that possible? Who?”

  “You’ll never guess in a million years… Kelly Peel!”

  “The singer?” Dan shakes his head. “The girl that sings the song about the rooster?”

  “It isn’t actually about a rooster, honey,” Heather tells her husband.

  “Really?”

  “It’s called ‘Cock-a-doodle do me!’” Carla exclaims. “Apparently, our VIP passenger was on some base that got overrun. She was giving a concert, and after her second encore they found the halls overrun by zombies, including her husband Randy Russell. Did you know they were getting divorced? I always thought they were a mismatched pair, but it worked for them, you know… Anyways, they had to ration what concessions they had after they cleared the place. Everyone was forced to sit tight and wait for the army to resolve the situation because there were a lot more outside, but the army never did. The group dwindled as sects branched off; hers ran but got pinned down before they could make it to the vehicles. They were almost to safety when Kelly, she told me to call her that, heard a baby crying. She had her group go on so she could find the kid. You know, I always knew she was different than the other pop stars. She made it out with a woman and her baby. They found a secure place to hold up, stayed there for months. It was like fate. The house was stocked with canned goods and baby food, surrounded by a thick stone wall and on a hill she said looked like a cake frosted with grass.”

  The description is vaguely familiar Dan, who only half listens to the rapid fire explanation. His mind is elsewhere, thinking of what will happen to them next.

  “The flood filled the property like a moat. Kelly saw us by chance and decided to risk her life to get them help. She followed us all the way through Waterloo on a door. Can you believe that? We only saw her because I went aft to take a pee. We slowed down and picked her up! The woman and her kid are still there…”

  The sheriff is clearly star struck by the presence of the surprise passenger. But Dan just nods as she goes on about the extent of the woman’s altruism.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Heather asks. She sees her husband’s eyes glaze over.

  “I’m a little hungry,” he answers softly, as if afraid what the reaction to the news will be.

  “We have some more rations.”

  Admitting to her that he isn’t certain if it is food he is hungry for is difficult. He hasn’t eaten in a while, but fears his hunger may be more akin to Eve Snyder’s when she tore out Becka’s throat. He feels like a man telling an AA meeting that he is an alcoholic for the first time. Dan simply shakes his head, “I’ll be ok.”

  “I took a few ginger ales from Bruce’s bar,” Carla offers. “That always helps me when I feel icky… which is weird since when I feel fine it makes me sick.”

  “No thanks.” Dan tries to smile. He exits the cabin.

  Out on the deck he sees they have stopped among the tangled trees of a swamp. He hears a lullaby being softly sung to his sons somewhere on the stranded craft. The melody seems unbefitting of the flooded bog that surrounds them. The setting sun shines through the twisted cypress, and the hanging canopy acts like a net that seems to be holding in the dwindling daylight, as if not ready to let it go. Shadows move between the trees, and they realize figures are wading in the deep mire.

  As if on cue, the song stops and the boys start to cry. Dan thinks the sentiment Carla speaks aloud, “This isn’t good.”

  “Get Heather and the boys inside,” Dan says.

  Heather carries Vincent around the deck, followed by the familiar face of the pop star who holds Jack. Dan’s eyes meet Heather’s, and he fears it’s for the last time. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she replies as if shocked by the timing.

  The king looks back to the slow approaching figures, unable to look upon his family any longer. He listens to the women tend to the young; they feed the kids to keep them silent.

  “There’s an awful lot of them,” Oz says next to Dan. Both have been trying to count the forms, and each attempt lessens their odds, for more become visible in the distance. They have guns and plenty of ammo, but will be losing the light soon, and with it the possibility of escape. There is no way to tell just how many are out there, but the fight will surely attract more, possibly beyond their means of protection.

  “There’s no telling if there’s a river crossing to the east,” Dan says. “West is the only option to get to Raleigh.”

  “Yeah, I thought of that,” Oz concurs sadly.

  “You’ll be able to take care of my family, right?” Dan asks.

  “Of course,” the large man answers before fully realizing what he is agreeing to. “Boss?”

  “Tell them every day that I love them, please?”

  “Wait a sec!”

  Oz tries to stop what is about to happen but is too late. Dan is over the side, trudging eastward through the deep muck. The man screams out to the dead as Bill Thompson had done for him, so long ago.

  “Come and get me!”

  ##

  He struggles to move through the waist-deep water as swiftly as possible, but the muddy floor sucks against his efforts. The thick sludge that tries to pull Dan down into its depths has already robbed him of his boots, and still wants more. The earth seems to be trying to claim him, giving his uncle’s insane talk of Mother Nature’s vendetta against the Williamsons credence.

  Dan has the attention of the dead that are having a far harder time with the quagmire. He exploits a gap between the waterlogged zombies, gaining a lead inch by inch, still screaming for them to follow.

  His heart is racing like a caged bird trying to break free from captivity. He gasps like an asthmatic, because the thick smells of the swamp gag him. His movements stir up fresh aromas of decay. Dan loses the ability to call out. He just hasn’t the breath.

  The waters shallow, and Dan is forcing his way up an incline to rest upon the roots of a tree that has toppled. The parts of the tree that should be submerged form a filthy chair, caked with dried mud, but he doesn’t care. He is wheezing and dizzy and just needs a break. He can’t scream for the dead to claim him, he doesn’t have to, they have him locked in and are still converging.

  “That’s ok, soldier,” Bruce says beside him on the roots. “You’ve done enough for one day. At ease.”

  Dan can feel that the end is near. His journey is almost complete. As he circles the drain, he wonders if his body will give out before the dead arrive, but he needs to know something even more paramount before the darkness takes him. “I gotta ask… If you were so paranoid, why the do-it-yourself raft? Why not a fucking boat or a jet ski?”

  “That’s dumb. What do I know about sailing?”

  “You were in the navy.”

  “Not for very long. You’re just cranky
because you’re sick. It’s the fever talking.”

  “I thought you were my fever talking.” Dan furrows his brow. He has his head against a twisted stalk, and the cool grime feels soothing against his temple as he speaks to his late uncle. “A rowboat or a kayak… a didgeridoo?”

  “Now, how the hell would an aboriginal wind instrument help during a flood? You mean a catamaran, and I already told you ‘anything worth doing is worth doing right.’”

  “You also said that if I overthought the plumbing I’d clog the sink,” Dan paraphrases another of Bruce’s favorite words of advice.

  “Yeah, that’s also true. I should probably knock off the pearls of wisdom before they go and put my mug on a coin or something.”

  “I’d think you’d like that.”

  “My face on a coin? Hell no!” Bruce says. “Stamps and folding money--that’s what the dead aspire for. It’s pretty much all Susan B. talks about upstairs. To this day she never shuts up about it.”

  Dan and the apparition are not alone in the swamp. Besides the zombies fighting to reach where he sits on the tangled root system, another predator approaches. Dan can see the water trail objects that close in on his location. “Is that a…”

  “No, it’s an alligator,” Bruce corrects him, though no species was named. “It’s a common mistake. People say there’s a difference between them and crocs. Something about the snouts. I just think they’re splitting hairs. It’s the same damn thing. Enforcers for Mother Nature. That bitch’s perfect killing machines.”

  The kings can only witness the unfeeling yellow eyes drift ever so close, like logs in a slow current. They don’t need to rush, their prey isn’t going anywhere. Uncle Bruce speaks calmly, “Just lay back, kid. It’ll be over before you know it. Fighting this will just make it worse.”

  The dead man gently leans the dying one against his chest and caresses his head.