by Dirk Patton
“Come on, lazy. I don’t stick my tits in men’s faces for free. You’ve got to help me out here. I can’t lift you on my own.”
John lifted his arms and wrapped them around Rachel’s neck, worked his legs under his hips and with her help stood up. He would have crashed back to the porch without her support. Rachel slipped around his body to his right side. Keeping her arms wrapped tightly around him she looked up at him.
“Can you make it to the boat? It’s not far.”
“I can make it.” John’s voice was whispery and his chest rattled alarmingly when he spoke.
True to his claim he stepped forward and Rachel moved with him providing as much support as she could to a man that outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. The going was slow and had to be painful and exhausting for John, but he didn’t complain. They came to a stop when they reached the cabin cruiser, Rachel unsure how to get him across the eighteen inches of open space between the dock and the boat’s deck.
John solved the problem by pushing her arms away and stepping across. He staggered when he stepped on the boat, Rachel leaping across to wrap him up again and steady him with her arms. Dog followed a moment later and led the way into the salon where John collapsed onto the bed as soon as he and Rachel reached it.
“I’ve got some medical supplies,” Rachel started digging through the bundle she’d taken from the house.
“No. Get the boat out in the lake. I made a lot of noise and there may be infected on the way here.” John’s voice was getting weaker, the chest rattle worse. His belly looked to be slightly distended and Rachel was fairly certain he was bleeding internally.
“There’s no time. I have to get your bleeding under control or you won’t make it,” Rachel started to reach for the bottle of alcohol but John reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.
“If the infected show up none of us will make it. I’m good for a few minutes. Get us off shore.” His hand slipped off her arm and then his eyes closed as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
Rachel let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. A couple of seconds of indecision then she leapt up and raced to the bridge to start the engines. When she got there she said a few decidedly unladylike words. The keys were not in the ignition. The bastards that had captured her must have taken them when they docked the boat.
Rachel ran back to where John lay unconscious, took the pistol off his hip, told Dog to stay and headed back to the house. She didn’t know who had been driving the boat, but she would check pockets until she found the keys.
The first body she came to was the man John had shot as he came out of the kitchen when the fight started. Rachel ran her hands over his body, finding Ford keys, a can of Skoal snuff, a pocket knife, a battered leather wallet but nothing else. Moving on she searched each of the other bodies with similar results. No boat keys.
Standing in the middle of the rec room Rachel was covered in gore to her elbows, but she ignored it and tried to think of where else the keys could be. She dashed around the room and checked all the tables, threw couch cushions aside, and got down on her knees and looked under the sofas. Nothing.
Returning to the kitchen she searched the whole room, careful to check the corners and under furniture. Still nothing. Then she remembered the twelfth man. The one John had shot on the porch that led to the all-out firefight. Dashing outside she found the body and repeated her search, finding the boat keys in his left hip pocket. Raising the key up to the light Rachel wanted to shout for joy, but her blood froze when a female infected screamed from the tree line not more than thirty yards away.
Rachel didn’t wait to see if there was just the one, or five thousand of the damn things coming. She jumped up, hurdled the small planting bed at the edge of the porch and ran across the lawn as fast as she had ever run. Another scream behind her pushed her faster and she almost stumbled as her legs had trouble keeping up with her momentum down the sloping lawn, but she regained her balance and sprinted the last few feet to the dock.
The cabin cruiser was tied to the dock at both bow and stern with heavy nylon ropes wound around iron cleats that were bolted to the dock. Sliding to her knees at the bow line Rachel quickly unwound it, risking a look over her shoulder while her hands worked the rope. Three infected females were charging down the lawn, one of them well in the lead and no more than twenty or thirty feet away. The line came free and Rachel scrambled to the stern line, tearing her knees and feet on the rough wood of the dock. The second line came free as the first infected reached the dock and charged Rachel.
Rachel raised the pistol she’d taken off of John and pulled the trigger. The big .45 roared and bucked in her hands, but she missed and the infected kept coming. Rachel had time for one more shot and took it, missing a second time, then the infected was on her with a flying tackle.
The infected was unbelievably strong. She was a small woman, easily six inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than Rachel, but she had the strength of a much larger man. Rachel fought hard, struggling to keep the snapping teeth away from her flesh, rolling down the dock with the infected locked onto her. She could feel her strength going and knew she was about to die when a nightmare of teeth slammed into the infected and knocked it off of Rachel.
Dog rolled with the infected, flipping back onto his feet and locking his jaws on the back of the female’s neck. Gaining his balance Dog spread his weight across all four feet and wrenched his big head to the side in a lightning fast and incredibly powerful motion as he bit down. There was a sickening crunch of vertebrae and the infected went still. Dog dropped the corpse and moved to stand between Rachel and the other two infected females who had just reached the dock. He was a fearsome sight, hackles raised, head lowered, lips peeled back from bloody teeth as he growled, but the infected have no fear.
Dog crouched, gathering his legs for a leap to battle when there were two quick shots and both females dropped to the dock, dead. Rachel, so certain she was dead just moments before, didn’t understand where the shots had come from until Dog whined and she followed his gaze to the boat. John stood in the door to the salon, rifle still pointed at the two females. For a moment he looked ok, then slid down the door frame and collapsed onto the deck.
28
The first thing I saw was a furry face and golden brown eyes staring at me. I was on my back and I hadn’t felt this tired since I had gone through the Army’s Special Forces selection process. Day after day of running, climbing, shooting, swimming, no sleep, little water and less food. Actually, this was worse.
I tried to sit up and the pain that lanced through my chest convinced me to stay where I was. Dog whined and looked to the other side of the room where a rustling noise was followed by Rachel leaning over me with a small smile on her face. She was scrubbed clean with her long hair back in a ponytail, but the bruising on her face was a mask of ugly purples, yellows and greens.
“Welcome back,” She said. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” I croaked, realizing how dry my mouth and throat were.
Rachel disappeared for a second then she was back with a red plastic cup. “Water.” She said, and slipped an arm under my shoulders to help me raise up enough to drink.
The pain was something from another world, but I pushed it down and sipped from the cup. I could feel the coolness of the water all the way down my throat and tried to drink more, but Rachel took the cup away and lowered me back down.
“Not too much too soon. You don’t want to get sick.” She said and set the cup on a table out of my reach.
“Are you OK?” I asked her.
She looked down at me, smiled and shook her head like women do when a man is being a moron.
“Am I OK? Seriously? Are you OK? That’s the question. Do you remember what happened?”
I thought for a moment before answering, “I remember finding you, finding the house. There was a firefight. And I remember a guy with a big butcher knife in his back. Was
that you?”
Rachel smiled and laid her hand on my arm. “Yes, that was me. Thought I’d help after you started shooting the place up. You killed eleven men saving me, and you got yourself shot in the process. You’re lucky I’ve had some emergency medical training.
“Do you remember saving me a second time? Shooting two infected females on the dock after I got you to the boat?”
I thought about it but couldn’t remember anything after checking the rec room and making sure all of Rachel’s abductors were dead. That’s fairly normal when someone is severely wounded, but it’s still rather disconcerting. Actually, it downright sucks. But on the other hand it’s probably not a bad thing to not remember the pain.
“Nothing. What happened? And by the way, how long have I been out?”
Rachel helped me raise up for another drink of water then settled back into a chair, bare feet up on the edge of my bed. Dog sat next to the bed, chin resting on the edge staring at me. He was starting to make me feel a little self-conscious.
“Are you sure you’re up to it? You don’t need to rest?” Rachel asked, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“I’m OK for now. Just tell me.”
“OK, but you just relax. You’ve been out for four days and you still have a lot of healing to do.”
“Four days!” I started to rise up but the pain reminded me to lay still. “Where are we? Are we safe?”
“We’re in the middle of the lake, anchored in 120 feet of water. We’re not showing any lights after dark and Dog and I are sleeping up on deck in case I need to repel boarders.” Rachel patted my rifle which was leaned up against a bulkhead next to her.
“Now, if you’re done with questions I’ll tell you a bedtime story so you can get back to sleep.” Rachel looked at me with her eyebrows raised in a quizzical expression.
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“About two hours after you swam away that night I got tired of sitting on deck waiting for you and went into the salon to get something to eat. I had rummaged around and found a trashy novel in one of the cabins and thought I’d stretch out and read while you were off playing Rambo.”
29
Rachel finished her portion of the meal that she had prepared before John went charging off to rescue Dog. Some plastic wrap from the galley covered up his plate for later and she settled down onto a settee to read some trashy romance fantasy novel she’d found while digging through one of the boat’s cabins. The book had been in a nightstand drawer that also held a box of condoms and an oversized vibrator. She’d tried the vibrator and the batteries were still good, but put it back with a shake of her head. Self-pleasuring was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now.
The novel was predictably corny, full of heaving bosoms and tanned, shirtless men, but despite herself she started getting into the story. She had been reading for about half an hour when a change in the gentle motion of the boat distracted her. It felt like something had bumped the boat, but when it didn’t repeat and she didn’t hear anything she went back to the book.
Rachel let out an involuntary scream when a few minutes later a shape appeared in the door from the deck. Her first thought was that John had returned, then she realized it was a stranger standing there staring at her.
“Well, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” The voice was deep and heavy with the type of Georgia accent that you didn’t hear in metropolitan Atlanta, rather in the isolated little towns in the north Georgia hills.
Rachel leapt up and tried to reach the pistol in the galley, but she had no chance. The man took two giant strides and back handed her across her face hard enough to send her spinning to the floor of the salon.
“Now, is that any way to treat company come visiting?” he asked, wrapping her hair up in his grimy hand and yanking her to her feet.
Rachel didn’t resist, moving with him and lashing out with her fist. Her target was his testicles, and if she had landed the blow he’d likely have lost one if not both of them, but he saw what she was doing and turned to the side and absorbed the blow on his hip.
“Goddamn it, girl. You’ve got one hell of a punch,” He said, hitting her in the face with a closed fist this time.
Rachel had always heard the expression ‘seeing stars’, but had never experienced it until now. She was on the edge of consciousness, little pin pricks of light flashing in front of her eyes and her body refusing to answer her brain’s commands to keep fighting. Helplessly she felt herself pushed to the floor. Her arms were roughly yanked behind her as he bound her wrists with rope, then her ankles were tied together.
The man left her laying there while he searched the cabin and she got her first good look at him. He was big and heavy, almost as large as John, but instead of heavy muscles he had heavy fat. He hadn’t shaved for days, and didn’t smell like he’d showered recently either. The cloying smell of body odor mixed with tobacco and beer in a rather unpleasant result.
He wore heavy leather boots, stained and fraying jeans and a once white T shirt that was stretched tight over his bulging stomach. A greasy Atlanta Braves cap covered his head full of equally greasy hair. His hands were large, thick and heavily callused. A hunting knife was strapped to his right boot and he wore two pistols like an old west gun fighter.
He finished searching the salon and moved on to check the rest of the boat. He made a lot of noise, apparently feeling it necessary to ransack as he searched. A few minutes later he returned and squatted down in front of where Rachel lay on the salon floor.
“Where’s the guy, sweet thing?” He asked, reaching out and grabbing Rachel’s hair.
“He’s dead,” Were the first words that popped into her head and she said them. All she could do was hope John would show up and save her, but she didn’t want him knowing there was someone coming back.
“Dead. Hmmm. Lot of that going around lately,” He muttered. “So it’s just you out here all on your own?”
Had she made a mistake? Should she have told him about John and that he was due back soon? Deciding she had to continue the story she’d started, Rachel answered, “Yes. He was killed earlier today at the marina where I stole this boat. He died so I could get away.”
“Well, ain’t that fucking noble as all hell,” He said. “Dumb bastard if you ask me. But he did me a favor. I get me a nice big boat and a good looking woman to go with it. Remind me to say a prayer for him.” He said the last with a laugh, released Rachel’s hair and stood up. “Stay put, sweetie. We’re going for a little ride.”
He left the salon and a few minutes later the big boat’s engine rumbled to life. The electric winch for the anchor whined as it retracted, then the note of the engine changed as the boat started to move. Rachel was disoriented after the two blows to the head, but she was pretty sure they were moving away from the marina, deeper into the lake. She didn’t know for sure how big the lake was or how John would find her, but she did know that he would try to find her. Rachel had not led a sheltered life and she could read men like a book. John was not one that would leave her behind, any more than he’d been willing to sail away and leave Dog to die in the abandoned truck. He would be coming for her.
That thought provided some comfort as they motored farther away from John and Dog. Rachel tested the bonds on her arms and ankles, but she was tied up tight. Too tight. Both her hands and feet were numb from lack of blood circulation. She managed to wriggle around and get into a sitting position so she could look for anything she could use to cut free, but there was nothing in sight.
They kept going for what seemed like hours, but according to the clock in the salon was only slightly more than 30 minutes. Rachel’s first indication that they were nearing their destination was when the big boat throttled back to idle. Moments later it thumped against what she assumed was a dock and there were several rough male voices shouting back and forth. Eventually the man came back into the salon and squatted down in front of where Rachel was sitting.
“Alright, sweet cheeks. We’re getting off the boat and going up the dock to the house. You got two choices, and only two. You can walk or I can drag your cute ass.” He looked at her, seemingly expecting a rebellious answer, but Rachel disappointed him.
“I’ll walk,” She said, voice tight with anger.
He grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth that had probably never seen a dentist. “Well, look at you now. Good choice. Maybe I won’t have to get as rough with you as I thought.”
He drew the knife that was strapped to his boot. It was a wicked looking chromed blade made to resemble the famous Bowie knife. It took some sawing with the knife to cut the ropes around her ankles, but they finally fell free and Rachel caught her breath as the blood rushed back into her feet with a storm of pins and needles. Not wanting to show weakness she forced the pain aside and stood, waiting for the man to tell her where to go.
He walked her out of the salon onto the back deck and she came to a full stop when she saw the small crowd of men waiting for them on the dock. Several of the men started to whistle and shout when they saw her and Rachel’s stomach flip flopped. Nothing good was going to happen here, she thought as she was shoved from behind. Stumbling forward Rachel regained her balance and stepped off the boat onto the dock. Hands were immediately on her, squeezing her ass and breasts, some pinching hard, some just squeezing. Rachel stood perfectly still, not responding. The man from the boat stepped onto the dock and started batting hands away before shoving her in the back again.
Rachel was ready this time and didn’t stumble as she moved forward with the shove. She considered kicking out and running, but there were men on all sides of her. She wouldn’t get two steps. Jumping into the lake ran through her head, but with her hands bound behind her back she couldn’t swim and they’d just fish her out and probably punish her for her efforts. Rachel had never been one to give up without a fight, but she was smart enough to know when to fight and when to comply, so she walked docilely with the group to the end of the dock and up a well-tended lawn.