by Dirk Patton
“My daddy always said, don’t take over someone’s job if you can’t do it better. You two seem to be quite capable.”
They were quiet for a moment, then a large splash of water from Rachel’s paddle hit me squarely in the face. A lot of it also landed on Dog, and he raised his head with an indignant expression on his face. Before I could say anything, a blast of water from Tiffany soaked the back of my head. I endured their retaliation stoically, figuring I deserved what I got.
“I think we’re good, anyway,” I said. “Even with night vision, the shore is just a faint line. I don’t see how the females could still be tracking us.”
“So, time to head in?”
“South for a bit,” I said. “I don’t think we’ve drifted more than a quarter of a mile. Let’s go about a mile and a half, then with the drift, we should come right into the marina.”
Rachel nodded, then handed me her paddle. Smiling, I moved Dog off my feet and slid to the side so I could reach the water. We kept at it for some time. When I could just make out the stone jetty that served as a breakwater for the marina, I turned us to the east.
Having gotten some rest, Rachel took over for Tiffany. The young girl quickly crawled into the center of the boat, curled up with her head on Dog’s side and went to sleep. Rachel and I paddled with long strokes, moving us towards the jetty.
“Think this will work?” Rachel asked in a quiet voice.
“Marina may be full of infected,” I said.
“Then what?”
“We paddle back north of the hotel, give it a wide berth and take the Tahoe. Drive down the shore and hope.”
“Are there more towns south of here?”
“No idea,” I said. “Never been south of Rocky Point, but I’d think there probably are. Lots of fishing here. As far as I know, other than drugs and tourism, it was the economy for this part of Mexico.”
Falling silent after that, we kept working. With painstaking slowness, we drew closer to the jetty. I’d gone fishing here, once, and remembered that it protected a long channel that connected the sea to a protected harbor. I just hoped this all hadn’t been a wasted exercise, and there were still boats in the marina.
Finally, we reached the curving jetty. Small waves crashed against it, and I steered us wide to avoid the turbulence. Rachel shook Tiffany awake as we rounded the breakwater and entered the calm waters of the channel.
It was perfectly straight and half a mile long. Sand beaches lined both sides, and at least for the moment, they were both empty. Looking around, I signaled to Rachel that it was time to be as quiet as possible.
I wasn’t worried about infected reaching us in the water, but if we were spotted, they’d follow along on shore. If that happened, we’d be cut off from any boat we did find. Concentrating on not making splashing sounds with the paddle, I kept a constant scan of both shores going. So far, so good.
As we drew closer to the harbor, I began to make out a few boats tied to the dock. Most of the slips were empty, but there were a few shrimping boats and a couple of sport fishing boats with tall towers sticking up. Either would be perfect, as standing in one of those towers would give a commanding view of the ocean for miles in every direction.
Tiffany tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at a long, wooden wharf. Four figures were standing perfectly still, as if on sentry duty. Fortunately, they were all facing away from us and hadn’t detected our presence. Holding up my fist, I signaled for Rachel to stop paddling.
I spent a minute surveying the marina. There weren’t any other infected, at least that I could see. The four females that Tiffany had spotted remained stock still. But, to reach any of the boats, we’d have to go right past them. I wasn’t confident we could do that without making enough noise with the paddles to alert them.
Turning around, I leaned towards the middle of the boat. Rachel and Tiffany did the same so we could speak quietly. Dog, thinking he was the center of attention, sat up and licked my face.
“I’m getting out here and swimming,” I mumbled.
Rachel and Tiffany both looked at me as if I had gone off the deep end. Dog just kept trying to lick me. I pushed him away and held up a hand before the girls had a chance to voice a protest.
“I can move quieter in the water than we can paddle. I’ll swim to the boats and find one that will start. While I’m doing that, you two turn around and get outside the breakwater. When I’ve got a boat, I’ll be right there and pick you up.”
Rachel was opening her mouth to argue, but I held my hand up again and shook my head to stop her.
“It’s the best way,” I said. “If I’m spotted, or if I can’t start a boat, I’ll swim back out.”
I didn’t wait for either of them to agree. With extreme caution, so I didn’t bump or bang against something, I began removing my rifle and vest with its spare magazines. Gently placing my gear in the bottom of the boat, I removed my boots and socks, took off the NVGs and peeled my shirt over my head.
Settling the night vision goggles back in place, I checked the security of my knife and pistol. Tiffany reached out and tapped the goggles on my head.
“Waterproof,” I said, giving her a smile.
She nodded and smiled back. I met Rachel’s gaze, then silently slipped over the side of the boat into the water.
41
The water was cold, which oddly I hadn’t noticed when the waves were breaking over me on the beach. I guess that’s what adrenaline will do for you. That, and it wasn’t ball shriveling cold, just a low enough temperature to get my attention.
Pushing away from the boat, I began slowly kicking, making sure my feet stayed below the surface. Only my head, from my nose up, was out of the water. I maintained a close watch on the females as I inched my way past. If they spotted me, I planned to go completely still in the water. The head rig and goggles broke up the profile of my skull, and I hoped that the dark water would help me appear as nothing more than a piece of floating debris. In case they saw me.
For once, Mr. Murphy wasn’t along for the swim. Maybe the water was too cold, or he was busy fucking up someone else’s plan for a change. For whatever reason, I cleared the area where the four infected stood as still as statues and made my slow approach to the closest sport fisherman.
It sat high in the water, thick ropes making it fast to iron cleats on the dock that had about an inch-thick layer of paint covering them. From my perspective at the waterline, it looked as massive as an aircraft carrier but was probably no more than 45 feet long.
Pausing between the boat and the dock, I tread water for a few minutes and listened carefully for the sound of any movement. None. But then there could be twenty females right over my head, and if they were all just standing there as still as the other four, I wouldn’t know.
Reaching up, I grasped the edge of the rough, wooden dock and, an inch at a time, pulled myself up for a look. The dock was clear. Turning my head, I checked the open deck of the boat. Also clear. Cautiously, I lifted the loop in the thick line that was over the cleat. Once it was clear, I eased myself back into the water, letting it float on the surface.
Bowline free, I made way to the rear and repeated the process. The boat was now untethered from the dock, and as long as I could start the engines, it was ready to go. Heading for the stern, expecting to find a platform that would make it easy to climb aboard, I kicked to give myself a push.
I don’t know if it was a hunk of concrete, an old piling from a past dock or just a submerged rock, but I managed to kick it straight on with my bare foot. The pain was immediate and blossomed up my leg, causing my stomach to do a flop. Somehow, I managed not to let loose with the string of curses that wanted to come out.
Taking a breath and suppressing the pain, I made my way, without any more kicking, to the stern and grabbed onto a low platform. Lifting myself, I took another look at the deck, then swiveled my head to check the surrounding boats. Nothing was moving, and I didn’t see any silent sentinels waiting for me to
make a mistake.
Pulling myself out of the water, I crouched on the platform and drew my knife. I waited for an alarm to be screamed, but all I could hear was a steady drip as water drained out of my pants and back into the harbor.
The boat was designed for tourists wanting to fish for a trophy. It had a large, open deck with what was called a fighting chair, bolted down near the stern. Equipped with a harness, you would strap in so if you hooked something really big it couldn’t pull you overboard. Beyond was a sliding, steel door that let into an interior cabin, and probably the engine space below.
Sitting high on top of this was an open air bridge where the boat’s captain would sit. Rising up from that was a ten-foot-tall tower with a narrow ladder leading to the top. It would have been used by a lookout who would be charged with spotting a good location for the customer to fish.
I could see the bridge was clear of infected and had already gotten a good look at the open space on the bow when I released the dock line. As long as there were no surprises inside, I was in good shape.
Moving forward in a crouch, I stopped at the door and waited a beat. Nothing other than tomb-like silence. A millimeter at a time, I slid the door open. My knife was up and ready to be plunged into the chest of anything that responded from within. But again, Murphy was giving me a break. No screaming infected leapt at me, and I was able to slip inside without a sound.
Not wanting any uninvited guests, I pulled the door closed behind me and quickly searched several small cabins. All empty. Not particularly clean or orderly, but I didn’t give a shit. As long as the damn thing would start and run, I’d be happy.
There was access to the bridge from within the main cabin, and I climbed up. Poking my head into the open air, I looked around. The four females hadn’t moved, and other than them, I didn’t see anything to worry about. Turning my attention to the boat’s controls, I cursed internally when I saw an ignition switch that required a key I didn’t have.
I thought about searching below, but doubted it would have been left aboard. Wherever the boat’s captain had wound up, it was probably still in his pocket. Not for the first time, I thought about Long. Wished he was here, and chastised myself for not having paid attention when he was hotwiring vehicles. But, I felt that I could start this. The switch looked really simple, and it should only be a matter of prying it out of the panel and connecting the wires behind it.
But, first things first. This boat had been sitting for months. Did the batteries still have a charge, or had they drained in the summer heat? And what about the fuel? Was it still good?
There wasn’t much I was coming up with as a way to check the fuel, but batteries are easy. Descending back into the cabin, I flicked a switch mounted on a paneled bulkhead. Bright lights came on, and I quickly turned it back off. OK, I had power. Now, as long as the fuel was good and the engine would start after sitting for so long…
Digging through several cabinets, I finally found a small tool kit that held a couple of screwdrivers and several different sized sets of pliers. I could smell dried blood on them, assuming they were used to remove hooks from fish. Returning to the bridge with them in hand, I set to work removing the ignition lock.
It was easier than I expected, only a simple nut holding it in place. I worked slowly for fear of dropping something that would alert the infected. It came free, and I gently pulled it out of the panel, the wires behind uncoiling smoothly. Expecting only two, I sat and stared when three of them stretched out from the panel.
Why three? I’d already seen a push button on the panel that was for the starters. After nearly a minute, it occurred to me. Just like a car, the boat would have a key on position that activated the power, and a second position for it to run. I hoped.
Using my knife, I cut the wires away and carefully stripped the insulation from their ends. Holding the three lengths of copper away from each other, I took a deep breath and another look around. I suspected that as soon as I made the connection, lights would come on all over the boat. And, anything electrical that wasn’t connected to an always on circuit would start up. If I was right, I’d be noticed the instant that happened.
That meant the boat needed to start quickly and easily. If it didn’t, those four females would scream a warning as soon as they heard the starters. I’d have seconds before they could race down the dock and leap aboard, and not much more time before others arrived.
If the engines started, the boat was already pointed at the channel. All I had to do was hit the throttle and motor away from the dock. But, if they didn’t, I was going to have to dive overboard and swim to safety before the boat was swarmed.
That wasn’t a good option. After I made it back to the small boat, we’d have to spend a lot of time paddling back up the coast, then traipse across the desert to the Tahoe. Then, a slow drive south, looking for another boat. Hours I was worried the pilot didn’t have. No, this needed to work. And I had one shot at it before the marina was flooded with females, then we’d have no choice but to fall back to plan B.
Putting my ass into the captain’s chair, I looked around again. Still no change. Focusing on the wires in my hand, I pinched the three bare ends together and twisted.
Lights all over the boat sprang to life, and low pitched whine sounded from deep within the hull. I hoped that was a fuel pump, doing its job. Glancing up, I saw the females look around, then turn in my direction. A second later, from somewhere on the boat, a stereo began blasting mariachi music, loud enough to alert every infected in town.
The females screamed but didn’t begin running towards me. For the first time, I noticed that they were pregnant. I started to congratulate myself on that little bit of luck but cursed when what sounded like hundreds of voices answered them from the streets immediately surrounding the marina.
Reaching out, I stabbed the button and pressed hard. Starters whined loudly, even over the pounding music. And they kept whining. The engines didn’t start. I released the button as I looked around. Dozens of females were charging, leaping over the low wall that separated the marina from a bordering road.
I pushed the button again, willing the engines to turn over. And they did. Once. Then they coughed and went quiet. Goddamn it! I hit the button again as I stood up out of the seat. The females were coming fast, and I was almost of time.
The starters whined and this time, the engines began a sputtering, stuttering idle. The lead element of the females rounded a corner and pounded onto the dock, no more than fifty yards away. I had seconds before they would be on the boat.
Engines still loping sickly, I shoved the throttles forward. Either this would work and bring them to a roaring life, or it was time for me to take a dive. They stuttered from the extra shot of fuel and with a curse I started to move for the rail. Before I’d taken more than a step, they suddenly bellowed, and the boat lurched forward.
Caught unprepared, I was thrown against the rail and nearly took an involuntary swim. I managed to hang on as the boat rapidly accelerated. It careened off the wooden dock, shoved onto a new course directly for a large group of rocks sticking out of the water.
Fighting the acceleration, I pulled the throttles back and cut the wheel sharply. I don’t think I missed the rocks by more than mere inches, but I missed them. Behind, the females were in a full throated scream as they came to a stop at the end of the dock.
Boat back under control, I resumed the captain’s chair and pointed the bow at the entrance to the channel. Feeding in a small amount of throttle, I motored forward at a slow pace as more females appeared on the strips of sand that lined the channel and began following me. Waving at them, I accelerated slightly and let out a breath I didn’t remember holding.
42
“Sir! It’s working!”
Commander Marx burst through the door, ignoring the dirty look he received from one of the nurses.
“What is?” Admiral Packard asked through gritted teeth.
He had finally relented and gone to the h
ospital to have his injury properly cleaned and treated. Seated on an examination table, he grimaced as the Doctor re-inserted a pair of long-nosed forceps deep into his arm. The Russian bullet had passed through his uniform sleeve, carrying fragments of the material into the wound channel.
“The message we broadcast. Word just came from a reconnaissance flight. A widespread mutiny has broken out in the enemy fleet. Fighting on the ships. Nearly half of them have broken away and are steaming north, for home!”
The man’s enthusiasm was infectious, a broad smile breaking out across the Admiral’s face.
“What about the remainder?”
“They are still coming, but I’m hopeful the mutiny will spread. Forgive me, sir. I let my excitement get the best of me and ran ahead to tell you. Commander Detmer is on his way with a complete briefing.”
“No apology necessary, Commander,” Packard said. “That’s the first good news I’ve received in some time.”
The door opened, and he looked up to see Detmer poke his head into the room. The Admiral waved him in as Marx stepped to the side.
“I’ve heard the good news, Commander,” the Admiral began. “Now. Give me the bad.”
“The Russian fleet, though drastically degraded, still has enough men and firepower to seize the islands, sir. Not as easily as they would have, but we’re not out of the woods. However, current assessments of their capabilities indicate we can hold the high ground.”
“Holding the high ground is only good for a short time, Commander,” Packard growled. “Until they starve us out.”
“Agreed, sir. But, if your little surprise doesn’t work, that’s the best we can hope for at the moment. The Army and Marines have nearly completed the fortification of the old defensive positions and are prepared to meet enemy ground forces in the valleys leading up Mt. Kaala. And, at last count, over ten thousand civilians have joined the defense.”