This is the End 3: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (8 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  Exiting the head, I made my way out the salon door and onto the deck. Dog greeted me with a frantic wagging of his tail and a cold nose that managed to slide up my bare leg and end in a very personal location. I rubbed his head and toddled my way to a bench, slowly lowering myself to the cushioned seat. The binoculars were lying next to me and I picked them up to scan our surroundings while I enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun on my battered body.

  I hadn’t realized that Rachel had anchored us just a few hundred yards off shore from the house where she had been held captive until I swung the binoculars in that direction. Crows and vultures were feasting on the bodies I had left behind and a fairly large contingent of infected wandered around the lawn. Most were males, but a few females were in the group.

  Several of the females stood on the dock staring at the boat. Whether they knew we were there or their attention was just drawn to the gleaming white boat I didn’t know, but I was glad they couldn’t swim. At least I hoped they couldn’t swim. I hadn’t seen any evidence to indicate they could, quite the contrary, but I reminded myself not to assume anything.

  I watched the infected for a while, mind wandering. I was feeling horribly guilty over what Rachel had gone through and then it occurred to me that Katie, my wife, might be going through the same thing or worse. There’s an old saying that goes something like “polite society is just a paper thin veil that masks the true animal nature of man”. I had learned the truth of that, years ago in the different third world countries I’d operated in for the Army, but I had never witnessed it in the United States until now.

  Sitting there, my mind bounced between worry for Katie and guilt for Rachel. I felt a renewed sense of urgency to get to Arizona, but a degree of despair as well. We had been hiding and fighting for days and were still within a two hour drive of Atlanta. How the hell were we going to cross the majority of the country?

  “Good morning.” Rachel’s voice startled me and I almost dropped the binoculars overboard. Recovering my composure I looked up at her, smiled and returned the greeting.

  “Anything worth looking at?” She asked, gesturing towards the shoreline as she came over and sat down next to me.

  “The new normal. Bodies on the ground and infected wandering around.”

  “You’re Mr. Sunshine this morning,” she teased, then reached out and took my hand and caught my eyes with hers. “If I haven’t said it, thank you. Thank you for coming to get me.”

  The lump of guilt in my throat kept me from speaking so I just nodded and looked away. I wanted to apologize, explain, and ask for understanding and forgiveness. I wanted her to have never had to experience what had happened, but none of that could be changed and I wasn’t about to dump my emotional needs on Rachel. She had endured enough.

  “OK, then. I see you’re one of those guys that struggles with gratitude,” she smiled to let me know she was kidding. “I’m making some breakfast while you sit here and rest. Any requests?”

  I smiled up at her, “Biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, thick sliced bacon and hash browns.”

  “On its way,” Rachel replied without missing a beat and walked back into the salon.

  A few minutes later she was back, balancing a paper plate on each hand. Retaking her seat next to me she handed over one of the plates, crossed her legs at the knees and balanced her plate on her lap.

  “Unfortunately we were out of biscuits. The gravy was lumpy, the eggs were spoiled and I forgot bacon and potatoes the last time I went to the store.” There was glint of mischief in Rachel’s eye and the look on my face gave away my thoughts.

  “Look,” She said, serious again. “It was not a fun experience. They were rough and unpleasant, but after they realized I wasn’t going to fight it cooled off their desire to abuse me and it just became less than consensual sex. I didn’t enjoy it, but I survived it and I’m not about to sit in a corner and have a pity party, so knock it the fuck off. OK?”

  I looked at her face and realized she was really as OK as anyone could be after such an experience. She was a strong woman and didn’t want my sympathy.

  “OK,” I said with a small grin. “Dead subject. Now, what the hell are you feeding me?”

  “Stale bread, stale cheese that I had to cut the mold off of, and an overripe banana that is probably the last one you will ever see, so enjoy it.”

  After that we sat in the sun and ate in companionable silence. The bread was hard, the cheese was… well, different, and the banana was so ripe it was almost mush, but I ate every bite. Water drawn from the lake and boiled on the small propane stove in the galley washed it all down, and between the sun and a full belly I was soon fast asleep.

  31

  “This is Max broadcasting to tell you the truth about what’s going on in the world.”

  It was eight days later and we were still anchored in the middle of the lake, resting and healing. I was up on the deck, enjoying some cool evening air when the voice cut through the static of the portable radio. I had taken to keeping the radio turned on and tuned to the frequency that Max used, and was so accustomed to hearing nothing but static I didn’t immediately respond. I quickly scrambled to turn up the volume and shouted for Rachel to come out and listen. Moments later she appeared in the door, finger holding her place in the novel she was still reading.

  “There’s a lot to tell you and I’ll get through the list in no particular order. First of all, we’ve had to move camp several times to avoid large herds of infected. I don’t know why the infected are herding together, and none of my sources can tell me, but I can say you should avoid the herds at all costs. If they corner you they won’t quit, and they won’t leave until you’re dead.

  “The remnants of the federal government are in an undisclosed secure location. I’ve got some guesses on where that might be, but I’m not gonna broadcast that info in case there’s any bad guys listening. Not that some politicians getting what they deserve wouldn’t warm the cockles of my heart, but it would be counter-productive at this point.

  “I have confirmation from a government source that the attacks on the US were initiated by the Chinese. They want our land and our natural resources. That’s why they haven’t sent any more nukes our way. We did hit them with multiple nukes. Most of their major cities and military installations are destroyed and casualty estimates are in the range of two hundred million dead and another hundred million with lethal doses of radiation. Sounds like a lot, but don’t forget that there’s over a billion people in China. Even if they lose another half a billion there’s still more of them than there was of us before the attacks.

  “Both coasts of the US are either nuclear wastelands or completely overrun with infected. The upper Midwest is in no better shape as well as the gulf coast states. Currently, I’m being told, over two thirds of the remaining population in the country has been affected by the nerve agent that was released. Apparently for the first forty eight hours the chemical was persistent and if an uninfected person was even touched by an infected that was all it took to infect them as well. I’m also being told that there is a percentage of the population that is immune to the nerve agent. That’s about the only good news at this point. The infected are lethal, and will attack and kill any uninfected person they encounter.

  “These aren’t zombies, folks. They don’t have to be shot in the head to die. However, they seem to be able to ignore injuries and pain that would normally put a man down. I’ve seen infected take multiple bullets to the body and not even break stride until their body finally realized it was dead. Sometimes that can take several minutes. Heart shots and head shots are the only way to ensure an infected goes down quickly.

  “Our friends in the UK and Europe, even France if you can believe it, are trying to mobilize military and humanitarian support for us, but the first convoy that headed out into the Atlantic was attacked and sunk by Chinese subs. Britain has threatened China with nuclear retaliation if there is an attack on another British ship. The Chinese have n
ot responded and it’s not clear who’s in charge over there at the moment. The Europeans have been bringing in food and medical supplies on cargo planes. With the east coast devastated they’re coming further inland and staging into Nashville and Kansas City. These are the two largest cities left relatively intact and they’re also both on major interstate highway routes and the Army and National Guard are doing all they can to start these supplies moving out to areas where people need help.

  “Finally, back to the infected. As I mentioned earlier we are seeing them congregate in herds for unknown reasons. As of yesterday there are massive herds moving north away from the gulf coast and west away from the eastern seaboard. The military is making preparations west of the Appalachians and along the southern Tennessee border to stop the infected from reaching the distribution center in Nashville. So far no herds have been spotted that threaten Kansas City. If you are south of Tennessee and trying to reach Nashville you need to hurry. The biggest herd is estimated to be three to four days away from Tennessee and once it gets there no one will be able to get through.”

  There was a pause and rustle of papers. Over the open mic Max could be heard taking a drink of something then the click and rasp of a Zippo as he lit a cigarette. A long exhale later and he continued.

  “That’s it, my friends. Don’t quit fighting and for God’s sake don’t start shooting people because they look Chinese. There’s a lot of Asian people in this country who are as patriotic to the US of A as the rest of us. Now if you see an Asian in a uniform you don’t recognize, drill the little fucker! Be safe, God Bless, and God Bless America.”

  32

  Rachel and I looked at each other and her expression mirrored my thoughts. “Oh, shit.” I said.

  Over the past week I’d been putting a lot of thought into how we would get to Arizona. I’d stared at maps for hours, made notes, calculated how fast we could move and made lists of equipment we’d need to carry once we left the relative security of the boat. Rachel had asked to see what I was doing a couple of times, but lost interest quickly and found something else to occupy herself. I was touched by the level of trust she was showing me, but then after what we’d been through if we couldn’t trust each other now there was not much point in continuing on together.

  Even before hearing Max’s broadcast I had already decided that our best route was to make our way north to Nashville and pick up Interstate 40. I-40 was like the belt of the continental US, running coast to coast right through the middle of the country. As it got closer to the west coast it dipped down into New Mexico and Arizona and ran within about 150 miles of my home where I had a continuing hope that I would find Katie safe and sound and bored out of her mind.

  All of our weapons had been disassembled, checked, cleaned and were ready to go. Our packs were ready to grab and go at a moment’s notice and there wasn’t anything for us to do to get ready to move except for me to dress. I had been lounging in nothing but boxers while I healed and I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to putting pants back on.

  Our immediate plan was to use the boat to stay on the lake and river system we were currently floating on to get west to Highway 27 which we would then follow up to Chattanooga. Chattanooga was on the southeastern border of Tennessee, and while it would get us out of Georgia, it was still a long trek west to get to Nashville which was pretty much in the middle of the state. The sun was setting and I didn’t want to try to navigate in the dark, but wanted to be prepared to leave at first light.

  The maps I had access to were road maps, not navigation maps, and I had no way of knowing if the river we planned to use was large enough to support the big cabin cruiser. We needed a backup plan and I had just the idea. Starting the engine I let it idle to warm up while the electric motor whined as the anchor was reeled up from the lake bottom. Ready to go I bumped the throttle to its first stop and spun the wheel to head for the cove where Dog and I had left the speedboat the night of Rachel’s rescue.

  The sound of the engine and movement of the boat drew lots of attention from the infected on the shoreline. Their agitation was obvious even without using the binoculars, and screams from the females floated across the water to us. Dog sat near the stern watching them across the water and I wondered what thoughts were going through his doggie mind.

  It only took a few minutes to reach the cove. The speedboat was exactly where I’d left it, bobbing in the water at the end of its anchor rope. Worried about running the larger boat aground I cut the throttle then reversed for a moment to kill our momentum, coming to a stop a hundred feet or so from the speedboat.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Rachel asked when she saw me heading for the stern rail where the small swim platform allowed easy access to the water. I paused and looked up at the flying bridge where she stood with hands on hips.

  I started to open my mouth to reply but she cut me off. “I know. You were going to swim over and get the speedboat. Did it occur to you how many bacteria are in the lake water that will soak into your wounds? I didn’t work like a mad woman saving your life to lose you now. Get out of the way.”

  Rachel had made her speech while climbing down the short ladder to the deck. She pushed past me, pulled her T shirt over her head, kicked off her boots, striped her pants off and dove into the lake. She surfaced moments later and started swimming to the speedboat with long, graceful strokes. I shook my head and watched her swim across the darkening water.

  Dog was still sitting by the stern rail and started whining when Rachel was half way to the boat. A few seconds later I heard the screams as several females appeared on the muddy shoreline of the small cove. The wake from the cabin cruiser had caused the speedboat to pivot around its anchor point and I realized that I had left too much slack in the anchor line. The stern of the boat was pointing directly into the cove and was maybe a dozen feet from the shoreline. I shouted for Rachel to turn back, but she couldn’t hear me over her own splashing.

  I watched in horror as first one, then another female took a running leap in an attempt to reach the speedboat. Neither made it, both splashing into the lake a couple of feet short, but the cove wasn’t deep and they were both able to stand on the lake bottom and start wading out to meet Rachel at the boat.

  Motherfucker! I grabbed my rifle and climbed the ladder to the bridge as fast as my bruised body would allow. On the bridge I dropped to a knee, ignoring the protest from my chest, and rested my arm on the bridge railing as it supported the rifle. We were losing light fast, but the low magnification scope amplified what light there was well enough for me to sight my targets.

  Just before I fired I noted that Rachel had reached the bow of the speedboat and was pulling herself along the side rail, intending to use the swim platform at the stern to climb aboard.

  “Rachel! Infected in the water!” I screamed at the top of my voice.

  Rachel turned and looked at me, obviously hearing my scream but not understanding the words. She saw me aiming the rifle and understanding dawned on her face and she started to push away from the boat just as a hand broke the surface of the water, grabbed a fistful of her hair and took her under.

  I cursed, then reacquired my target and started shooting. The head of the female I had the best line of sight on exploded when the military caliber round punched through, and I shifted aim to another floundering infected. My first shot missed, but my follow on shot took off the top of her head.

  That was all the visible females in the water, and I paused, holding my breath. Finally, with an explosion of water, Rachel and the infected female broke the surface, locked in battle. Rachel had two fists full of her hair so she could keep the snapping jaws away from her face and neck. The infected struggled, clawing and whipping her head side to side in attempts to break Rachel’s grip.

  I sighted in on Rachel’s attacker, taking a deep breath as I tracked its head in the rifle’s scope. It was a high risk shot, but there was nothing else I could do. As my finger tightened on the trigger I heard more
splashes and shifted my eyes to see two more females wading through the water towards Rachel. I quickly took each of them out with head shots. By the time I moved aim back to Rachel, she and the infected were under the water again. Maintaining my aim I waited. And waited. And waited.

  I was starting to fear the worst when once again they breached the surface. Rachel still had one fist wrapped in the infected’s hair, but her other arm was now locked straight out with her hand gripping its throat. I placed the scope’s red dot on the face of the infected, paused a moment to make sure I was adjusting with their motion, then squeezed the trigger as I said a small prayer.

  The head snapped back as the bullet punched through, a spray of blood and brains fanning out across the lake’s surface. The infected went limp in Rachel’s arms and she shoved the corpse away from her and nearly leapt out of the water into the speedboat’s cockpit. The anchor came up quickly with a manual winch, then nothing. I hadn’t told Rachel where I had hidden the keys.

  In the meantime more infected had arrived on the shoreline and I quickly picked them off before they could start wading out. Standing up I grabbed a bench cushion and raised it over my head for Rachel to see. It took a few tries before she got the message and started throwing cushions around until she found the keys. The speedboat started easily and less than a minute later she cut the motors as she drifted up to the stern of the cabin cruiser. I met her at the rail and tied the smaller boat off to a cleat so we could tow it with the larger boat.

  I reached out a hand and helped Rachel cross the open water between the two boats and pulled back a handful of blood. She was missing most of the ring finger on her left hand and it was bleeding profusely. I grabbed a towel and helped her wrap it up.