by Dirk Patton
Heads nodded all the way around and Blake gave me a nod and a wink to let me know he was happy to have me in command.
An hour later I sat on the flying bridge of the cruiser, halfway through my watch, eating the Spartan meal that Rachel had brought up to me. She sat next to me, sipping from a bottle of water.
“Think we can pull this off?” She asked, stretching her long legs out and propping her feet up on the bridge railing.
“I think we’ve got a good shot at it.” I answered around a mouthful of pork and beans. “However, we don’t know how many infected are going to be waiting for us. The planes might not be fueled with no way to fuel them. There might not even be any planes there. We’re going in with no intelligence, which is never a good thing, but it’s the best we can do.
“Ideally I’d take a quiet ride down there tonight to scope things out and delay the operation until tomorrow night, but with the herd moving north that Max talked about I don’t think we have time. It’s probably tonight or never.”
Rachel finished her bottle of water and looked up at me, “Well, you’d better not fuck it up then.” She said, grinning to let me know she was just yanking my chain, then stood up to go check on Captain Helm before her watch started. The newly quieted speedboat started and before it reached the houseboat only a hundred feet away I could no longer hear the exhaust.
38
I woke up at midnight, still tired and groggy, for a moment not remembering where I was. Looking over at the woman sleeping next to me it took a moment for my mind to remember why I was seeing someone other than Katie, then everything clicked back into place. I let out a quiet sigh and carefully climbed out of the bed so as not to disturb Rachel who had taken to sleeping with me ever since I had rescued her. There wasn’t any cuddling or spooning, in fact we never touched, but every time I woke up she was there on the far side of the bed.
Standing up I stretched and Dog jumped off the foot of the bed where he’d been curled into a surprisingly small ball for a dog his size. I made my way out of the salon and to the stern rail where I pissed over the side into the lake while Dog watched. Zipped up I checked the flying bridge, glad to see Mayo on watch. He wore one of the sets of night vision goggles from the Pave Hawk and looked like an alien out of a low budget Sci-Fi flick from the 60s.
Climbing the short ladder I joined him, wanting a cigarette but resisting. The flame from a lighter would destroy my night vision and could be seen for miles, standing out like a beacon to any hostiles. Mayo nodded when I slipped into the seat next to his, but didn’t seem to feel the need to talk.
The night was warm with a slight breeze blowing, pushing small wavelets across the lake’s surface which softly slapped against the cruiser’s hull, the sound almost mesmerizing. Clouds obscured the moon and it was nice and dark. Another reason to move tonight. We had two more set of NVGs from the Pave Hawk and the darker the night the more of an advantage we would have.
Less than a minute later I heard the speedboat engine start and settle to an almost inaudible rumble. I turned and peered through the darkness to where the speedboat was tied up to the houseboat, but couldn’t see anything. Mayo had turned as well to look and reported that Blake and the LT were on their way over before resuming his scan of the open lake.
It only took a moment for them to cross the short amount of open water and I felt a slight bump as they nosed up to the cruiser’s stern and tied off. The engine cut off and first Anderson then Blake climbed over the stern rail. Slapping Mayo on the back I went below to greet them.
We met on the deck and Rachel stepped into the doorway, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was too early to think about launching, so we made some coffee and sat out in the darkness and talked. Anderson talked about his family, glad that his parents were already gone and weren’t having to live through the hell of the attacks. He had a sister who had moved to France the previous year to pursue her dream of becoming a painter and he assumed she was OK since there was no word that Europe had been attacked.
We had already learned that Mayo was from Atlanta, having joined the Air Force to escape abject poverty with no opportunities. His mother was his only family and he was sure she was either one of the infected or had died when Atlanta had burned. When asked by Rachel, Blake told us he was from a big family in Brooklyn. That killed the conversation and we sat sipping bitter coffee in silence for a bit. Tired of waiting I decided that there was no reason we couldn’t jump off a little earlier than planned. It was after 0030, 12:30 AM civilian time, and I called Mayo down to the deck so we could go over the rough and simple plan I had made.
We would all be on the cruiser at first, heading south towards the marina with a slight bearing to the west to hopefully bring us close to the amphibious air service noted on the map. When we were about three miles from the shore the cruiser would cut engines and go silent. Anderson, Blake and I would move to the speedboat, Mayo and Rachel turning the cruiser around and returning to where we were currently anchored. I had originally wanted to take the speedboat the whole way, but Blake warned that the jury rigged exhaust suppressors would only hold up for so long at any speed over about ten knots.
For the trip south he would loosen the retaining straps that were attached to the hull and pull the ends of the flex hose out of the water so the cruiser could tow the speedboat at a faster pace. The cruiser was a luxury boat, and the people that could afford it didn’t want to listen to a loud engine so it was well muffled and relatively quiet at any speed under full throttle.
Once on the speedboat the three of us would make a low speed run into the shore to look for a plane that could fly all of us out of there. Each of us would have NVGs, Blake manning the machine gun, me piloting the boat and Anderson along for the ride until we acquired a plane for him to fly. I didn’t like leaving Rachel and Mayo without NVGs, but didn’t see a viable alternative. We needed them for combat, or hopefully to avoid combat, and all they had to do was pilot the big cruiser back across the lake and drop anchor.
With everyone acknowledging they were ready I suited up in my tactical gear while Blake leaned over the stern of the speedboat and worked the flex house exhaust tubes up out of the water. Climbing back aboard he gave a thumbs up, stepped into the salon for a moment and returned with two lit cigarettes cupped in the palm of his hand. Handing one to me he met my eyes and gave me a nod, letting me know he was ready to go into battle with me. I glanced around the deck to make sure we were ready to go then climbed the ladder to the flying bridge, started the engine and hit the switch to raise the anchor.
The instrument panel gauges were covered with duct tape again and the night was dark as I spun the wheel to point us to the south and slowly fed in throttle. The big boat started moving, the speedboat in tow at the end of its tether and I kept advancing the throttle until a peek under the duct tape at the gauge showed we were making about 18 knots. Rachel stood next to me on the bridge using a set of borrowed NVGs to scan the horizon for any threats. She hadn’t said much since we woke up and was still uncharacteristically quiet.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked, taking the last drag of the cigarette and crushing it out below the instrument panel where the faint light from the burning tobacco wouldn’t be visible to anyone scanning the lake. She didn’t say anything for a moment, then pushed the goggles up onto the top of her head and looked at me.
“Just remembering the last time you left me alone on the boat. No biggie. I’ve got Mayo and Dog this time so everything will be fine.” I was trying to find the right thing to say but she continued before I could speak.
“I’m worried you won’t be coming back. You barely survived saving me, and I know you’re still not close to 100%. Not sure I want to try to survive this on my own.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I settled for reaching out and taking her hand in mine. We stayed like that, holding hands, until I cut the throttles when the cruiser’s navigation system showed we were three miles off the shore.
On the shore to our left
was the camp Anderson had described, brightly lit and shining across the water like a beacon. I raised the binoculars and took a look. Apparently the lights were also a beacon for the infected which pushed up against the barricades in throngs too large to even begin to count.
The walls protecting the camp looked to be made of boat trailers turned on their sides with steel plates welded to them and stacked two and three trailer widths high. On the inside of each trailer a steel strut had been welded at a forty-five degree angle from the higher edge of the trailer to the ground where it provided bracing against the constant push of the infected. Makeshift watchtowers had been built and I could hear the occasional report of a rifle as some sentry shot an infected. I was too far away to tell, but my guess was they were having to watch for and shoot the much more agile females when one would find a way to start climbing the outside of the barricade.
Still using the binoculars I scanned the shore to the west, but it was too dark to make out any details and the NVGs weren’t any good at this distance. We’d have to get in close to the shore and hope the map wasn’t wrong or just grossly out of date. I started to climb down the ladder but Rachel stopped me with a hand on my arm. I met her eyes, smiled more jauntily than I felt and quickly made my way down to the deck.
Blake was already in the speedboat, reconnecting the flex hoses and Anderson was nervously checking and re-checking his pistol’s load. Mayo stood at the bottom of the ladder, waiting for me to clear the bridge so there would be room for him. Stopping in front of him I looked him in the eye.
“I’ll keep her safe,” he said. I nodded, clapped him on the shoulder and herded Anderson into the speedboat.
Blake had the exhaust back in place and as I settled into the driver’s seat he kneeled down in the bow, released the line tethering us to the cruiser and reached up and pulled the charging lever on the machine gun. Anderson settled into the seat next to me and I hit the boat’s starter. Blake gave a push to get us clear of the larger boat then I gave the motor a couple notches of throttle and headed to shore. Behind I heard the cruiser’s motor start as Rachel and Mayo headed back north.
I kept our speed down to just under ten knots until we were a mile from shore, then dropped us down to five knots to reduce our noise as much as possible. Next to me Anderson continually scanned the shore with a pair of binoculars that had come from the houseboat, looking for a seaplane depot. Half a mile from shore I cut the throttle back to idle and the boat slowed to only a couple of knots.
I was steering us parallel to the shore, heading away from the barricaded compound to give Anderson a good view of the shore when I heard the boat motor behind us. Looking over my shoulder the NVGs let me clearly see a small boat heading out of the marina and in our general direction. Three men were on board, one driving and the other two sitting in the bow with rifles held pointing skyward. They were a still a good distance away, but the military grade NVGs allowed me to make out that they were also wearing night vision. I had no way of knowing if they’d managed to get their hands on some military grade hardware or if they were using the much lower resolution units that can be purchased in any sporting goods store. If they had military units then they would spot us any moment, otherwise we were well outside their range.
Anderson suddenly sat up straighter and stared through the binoculars at a point on the shore, then pointed excitedly.
“There,” he said. “I can see a large hangar with a concrete apron that runs right down into the lake. That has to be it.”
“Can you see any planes?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the approaching boat.
“No, but they could very well be in the hangar. If I had a hangar available I wouldn’t leave a plane sitting out in the weather.”
I pushed my NVGs up onto my head and took the binoculars from him, looking where he pointed. He was right. A large hangar sat about fifty yards back from the edge of the water with a concrete apron that ran from the hangar all the way down to the water. There was a large sign over the hangar doors, but it was too dark to make out the lettering. The place appeared to be deserted with no sign of survivors or infected. Making my decision I bumped the throttle forward and pointed us at a small dock that jutted out into the lake at the edge of the apron.
“We’ve got a problem,” Blake called out from the front of the boat. “The noise they’re making is attracting infected and they’re bringing them right down the shore with them.” He gestured at the boat that had appeared behind us.
I looked at the boat coming our way, its exhaust loud across the water, then checked the shoreline to see dozens of infected stumbling along as they stared out across the water at the source of the noise. At their current rate they’d be at the hangar just a few minutes after we arrived. Not good. I had no idea how long it would take us to break into the hangar and get a plane ready to go. Anderson was confident that any plane we found would be fueled and ready to fly, but I didn’t want to count on it. Shit!
Keeping the throttle where it was I spun the wheel and pointed us out to the open lake. I didn’t know if these guys were a patrol or just some assholes who decided to take a late night joy ride, but the last thing we needed was them bringing a pack of infected down on our heads while we were trying to get a plane in the air. This is what happens when you don’t have time to do reconnaissance and gather intelligence.
We had just settled on our new course that would take us away from the shoreline when the sound of another motor roared from the direction of the marina. All of us looked to our right and saw a bass boat – what was it with these guys and bass boats? – quickly gaining speed and heading directly towards us. Three armed men accompanied the driver and one of them raised a giant spotlight and turned it on, swinging it in our direction. They’d spotted us from shore. Someone had some military issue hardware. Well, so did we.
“Light ‘em up, Tech Sergeant,” I said, spinning the wheel and accelerating to put the new boat directly in front of us.
Blake stood up, grasped the machine gun with both hands, swung it a little up and to the left to adjust and squeezed the trigger. The gun started hammering and Blake adjusted fire as red tracers lanced out and splashed into the water to the boat’s right. There were shouts of panic from the boat and the driver turned the wheel to try and avoid the incoming fire, but Blake adjusted with him and shredded the boat and the four men aboard.
We were all deafened after the hammering fire from the M240 and I watched in silence as Blake’s chest disintegrated in a spray of blood and his body pitched over the side into the water. The other boat had someone who could shoot! I slammed the throttles to their stops, not worried about noise discipline any longer, pointed at the wheel and scrambled forward to man the machine gun as Anderson slipped into the seat I had just vacated.
Standing behind the machine gun I flexed my knees to absorb the motion of the boat and swung the barrel onto target as I pulled the trigger. The gun started hammering out rounds and I used the tracers to walk my fire up and into their boat. The heavy, high velocity bullets destroyed everything they hit. Fiberglass, aluminum, flesh, bone; it didn’t matter. They punched through everything and I kept the fire up for a couple of seconds to make sure everyone in the boat was down for the count. One of the tracer rounds found the gas tank and the boat exploded in a bright flash and ear shattering boom. A few moments later flaming debris started raining down onto the water around it.
Letting off the trigger the barrel smoked heavily, the wind of our passage quickly cooling the weapon back down. I scanned around and didn’t see any other threats, then looked for and spotted Blake’s corpse floating in our wake. I motioned Anderson to slow down and come about and moments later we slid up next to Blake, engines idling. Unclipping a boat hook from the side rail I snagged the body, pulled it close and grabbed the NVGs off Blake’s head. Tossing them into the boat I let the body slip away and re-clipped the boat hook. I don’t like leaving a fallen comrade behind, but trying to recover Blake’s body and take it with us
would almost undoubtedly cause our mission to fail, and failure would most likely mean death for all of us at this point.
Anderson had pushed his NVGs up on his head and stared at me with eyes as big as saucers. I grabbed his shoulders and moved him to the passenger seat, jumping behind the wheel. We’d just alerted all the people in the camp as well as every infected for miles around to our presence and we still had to steal a plane. Jamming the throttles forward I steered around the flaming wreckage of the other boat and aimed for the concrete apron.
The speedboat covered the water at a fast clip as we made a beeline for the seaplane hangar. As we approached I could see infected swarming down the shoreline, still a good distance from the hangar, but closer than I was comfortable with. I shouted to Anderson to be heard above the roar of the engine and the wind whipping past our faces.
“I’m going to pull right up to that small dock. You get the hangar open and find us a ride. I’ll hold off the infected.”
“How do I get in if the hangar’s locked?” He shouted back.
“You have a pistol. Shoot the lock off if you have to. Watch your back, too. There might be infected inside.”
Anderson nodded he understood and a moment later I cut the throttle as we roared up to the dock. The boat settled and slammed hard into the wood, snapping off the stainless steel railing that ran along the top of the bow rail. Anderson was out in a flash, up on the dock and running for the hangar. I checked the area through the NVGs and didn’t see any infected yet, but I could hear the screams from females coming our way.
Checking on his progress I saw Anderson reach the hangar and tug on a man-door that was set into the larger rolling doors. It didn’t budge and he didn’t waste any time stepping back, drawing his 9mm pistol and firing several rounds into the knob and deadbolt. Grabbing the door he yanked and it flew open. He disappeared inside and I had to turn my attention back to the business at hand as female infected appeared around a building a couple of hundred yards down the shore. I also noted the noise of several boat motors, but they sounded to still be a fair distance away.