by Glyn Gardner
Waving to the others, he moved down the pier slow and low. He didn’t have to look back, he knew they would be following him. As they reached the fifth boat on the right side, he motioned for Jackson and Theresa to take the one to the left, the sixth boat. He, Mike, and Kerry would take the right boat.
The boat he climbed onto was about 20 feet in length. The side was painted yellow and the bridge was protected only with a Plexiglas screen. The bow of the boat was anchored firmly to the pier with a single rope. The forward portion of the boat was open in the center with padded bench seats all around. The aft part of the boat was the same.
They quickly searched the boat. To their dismay they did not find any keys. SSgt Brown was just climbing back onto the pier when he heard the engine in front of him fire up. Jackson turned and gave his boss a thumbs-up. The look on SSgt Brown’s face caused his smile to quickly vanish as he realized what he’d done.
A quick glance down the pier told SSgt Brown that they were on borrowed time. The locals were aware of their presence. He pointed to the boat across from them. “Check that one,” he ordered Mike. “Kerry, the one next to it,” he barked. He charged down the pier to the next available boat.
This boat was larger than the others. It had an enclosed pilot house. He was sure it would have an area below decks also. He grabbed the door to the pilothouse and threw it open without thinking. It took only a nanosecond for his brain to acknowledge his mistake; too late, as it turned out.
The thing in front of him had obviously been dead for a long time. The odor that poured from the enclosed cabin would have made SSgt Brown retch had he had time to think about it, which he did not.
The zombie had been a fat man in life, maybe 350 pounds. It had no hair anywhere, making it look older than it probably was. Had it not been for the vice-like grip and the gnashing teeth, SSgt Brown thought, this guy would actually look frail. These thoughts took up the next few nanoseconds of SSgt Brown’s life.
Luckily for him, his training and combat experience kicked in before his conscious mind did. His right hand shot underneath the ghoul’s chin, forcing its head away from him. Next he allowed the weight of the zombie to push him back a half of a step. This gave him room to get his foot up and kick the zombie in the chest.
Both zombie and would-be victim went sprawling in opposite directions. He felt the boat rock gently on the water from the impact. He clambered back to his feet, his mind clearing as he did. He withdrew the pistol from its holster on his right hip. The zombie was just reaching its feet as the big man fired a single .45 caliber full-metal-jacket round into the zombie’s head. Black and pink mist exploded from the gaping hole in the monster’s head.
After he brushed himself off, he re-entered the pilothouse. There, in the ignition were the keys. Without a thought he reached over and gave them a turn. The engines fired on the first try. The others were jumping onto the back of the boat. Having heard the gunshot, they were already moving in his direction.
SSgt Brown slowly backed the boat out of its slip as Mike cast off the lines. Looking to his right, he could see Jackson and Theresa were also slowly drifting away from the pier. A thumbs-up from Jackson told him that everything was ok.
Back in open waters, ‘Bamma took the lead. Mike took the opportunity to explore their new cabin cruiser. He ducked as he passed beneath SSgt Brown’s feet. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed that the smell of death was getting stronger.
He slowly withdrew his pistol, keeping it pointed at the deck below his feet. He was standing at the end of a short hallway. There were two closed doors, one on each side. He could see a microwave oven through the open door at the opposite end of the hall. Blood streaked the only wall he could see. His stomach began doing cartwheels. He could feel it. Something wasn’t quite dead down here.
He slid down the wall until he was close to both doors. He put his left hand on the door to his left, as if he could feel something on the other side. Nothing. He reached out and allowed the door to swing open. The room was a small bathroom. Anything hiding in there would have to be a contortionist. He pulled the door closed as quietly as he could.
He guessed the second door would have to be some kind of sleeping quarters. That was about the only thing he hadn’t seen on this boat, a bed. Again, he placed his left hand flat on the door. Again, he couldn’t feel anything on the other side. He reached for the handle.
“What are you doing down here,” Kerry called out as she descended the stairs. Mike jumped back, accidently squeezing the trigger of his pistol as he did. The big black handgun bucked as the .40 caliber round flew towards the now opening door.
He turned toward the girl, his face pale with fear. As he turned, his mind caught on to the fact that his ears perceived moaning. He lunged in her direction as she drew her pistol. He knew she wasn’t very good with it, but together they stood a better chance of surviving.
He hit the deck on his left shoulder and rolled onto his back. There in front of him was a female zombie. The bite marks to her neck were still clearly visible. The zombie took a step towards the duo and crashed to the deck. The lower part of her right leg was at an odd angle and was oozing black semi-congealed blood.
She was only about 5 feet from Mike when he fired again. Although he never heard it, Kerry had fired at the same time. A single fiery hot shell casing cascaded down the neckline of his shirt. He cried out in pain as he struggled to get the scorching hot metal away from his skin. As he did, another gunshot, and another spent shell casing tumbling over his exposed skin. This time he brushed it away before it did him any harm.
He looked to his feet. The zombie was no longer moving. Its outstretched arm was a mere foot from his leg. A rapidly growing pool of black blood was growing around the monster’s head. She helped him up.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he stood. The adrenaline was already wearing off and he was beginning to shake. She holstered her pistol and embraced him tightly. He had been one of the people who had risked their lives to save hers. She couldn’t bear to see him dead.
The rest of the journey went uneventfully. When they reached Singing River Island, they found four neat little holes in the boat. Two of them were below the waterline and would need to be patched.
Singing River Island is a relatively small island. It is actually the results of large scale dredging operations and is manmade. The former tenants of the island included both the US Navy and the US Coast Guard. The Navy was never able to station more than about 2,000 personnel on the base, and the Coast Guard contingent never reached more than 50. No one on the island was aware of these facts.
Jen and Indira were, however, learning just how small the island and their new community truly were. It didn’t take long for the first few patients to drop by to see the “real doctors.”
The first woman was named Marge and looked to be in her mid 50’s. Her accent told them she was not from the south. It was slightly nasal, as if she were from the Midwest. Oh, she was a talker. She went on and on about her doctor back home. She told them how he was so sweet. He was Indian or Pakistani. “Like you dear,” she had told Indira. She had even gone so far as to ask if Indira had known him. Indira was forced to hold back a chuckle as she apologized to Marge and inform her that she did not know Dr. Gandhi from East Prairie, Missouri.
After twenty minutes of small talk, Jen finally had to ask Marge why she had come to the clinic. “Well,” she began. “I haven’t had my blood pressure pills in the last week. If I don’t get them, I’m going to end up with these terrible headaches. I was wondering if you brought any blood pressure pills with you.”
The two girls were stunned. They had never given any thought to health maintenance. For the past month everyone had simply been worried about survival. It was Jen who spoke first. “Sweetheart, we don’t have any right now, but if you could tell us what you take, we could try to get some.” This seemed to be good enough for Marge. She gave the names of three blood pressure medicines and a cholesterol m
edicine before she left.
Jen turned to the older of the two paramedics. “Joe, how many people around here are on some kind of medicine?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes people come in asking. I tell them we don’t have any, and they seem satisfied with that.” That was not the answer Jen was hoping to hear. She did not want to start off on the wrong foot, so she held her tongue as best she could.
“The next time someone comes in here looking for medications that they took before this all happened, please get the name and dose of the medication.” She didn’t have to say anymore. The look on his face told her he had gotten the point.
“Why don’t you and Corpsman Donaldson give us a tour of the clinic if you don’t mind?” She figured letting him be in charge of the tour would give him a little win and maybe save some pride.
The tour didn’t last long. There was a small waiting room with a reception desk. Behind that there were three exam rooms and two offices. The desks in these rooms still held the non-working computers from the previous tenants of the base. There was a supply room, and a cage that everyone agreed had been a pharmacy at some point in the past. The supply room and pharmacy cage were both pretty much empty. The exam rooms were nothing more than empty rooms with exam tables and blood pressure cuffs and old glass thermometers.
The door opened as the tour ended. This time a younger Hispanic man entered. He introduced himself as Alberto. He told them that he was a school teacher from a small town in Arkansas. He went into the usual pleasantries: Glad you’re here. Let me know if I can do anything for you. He inquired about their families and the group they arrived with. Then he finally got to the real reason he was there. Alberto was diabetic and his insulin was running out. He reported that he still had a working blood glucose meter, but he was also running out of the testing strips. He had resorted to checking his sugars once every two days, and those were gradually creeping up.
Jen and Indira looked at each other with concern. They both had dealt with diabetics, and both knew how dangerous it could be. They also knew that insulin needed to be refrigerated or it becomes less effective. This was going to be a bigger problem than the blood pressure pills. They assured him that they would do their best to acquire the needed supplies and medicines.
The third person through the door was an older looking white woman. She was not one for pleasantries. She went straight to the point. She told them that she suffered from severe anxiety and she normally took Xanax twice a day. She was jittery and obviously anxious as she spoke to them. Jen noticed her eye contact was poor and she couldn’t keep her hands still. Jen had seen patients like this before. She didn’t know the cause of this woman’s anxiety, but she sure couldn’t blame her for being anxious as the world died around her.
Corpsman Donaldson was not as sympathetic to the woman’s plight. To him, she looked like a strung out junkie. Her clothes hung on her as if they belonged to a bigger woman. The crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and lips made her look older than her reported 26 years.
“We’ve told you every day for the last week,” he began before the woman could tell her story. “We don’t have any drugs for you Carmen. Now get out of here or I’m gonna tell the Bishop you’re malingering.”
The girl spun on her heels and began to leave. The women could hear her crying as she did. “Wait,” Jen called out. The girl stopped and turned. Tears were running down her face, making her look even older than she already did.
“What the hell?” Corpsman Donaldson interjected. “You can’t be fucking serious!” But Jen was serious, dead serious.
“Mr. Donaldson,” she turned to him with a low quiet voice. “If you have a problem with the way that I am treating this patient, you are more than welcome to leave.” The young man’s jaw dropped. “I’ve been an ER nurse for ten years,” she continued. “I will not have my patients abused, nor will I have my orders questioned by a snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears, little punk. If you, for one minute, think that I will allow this behavior to go on in my clinic you are sorely mistaken.”
She turned to the girl, her adrenaline pumping. After pulling the girl close, she turned her head back to the sailor. “By the way, if you can’t treat my patients right, I will be sure to inform the Bishop that you are free to join those foragers going outside the wire every day.” He was speechless. The last thing Hospitalman Donaldson wanted was to go outside of the wire. He had seen too many of his friends die in the last month.
By the time she found herself waiting on the dock for Mike to return, she and Indira had a two page list of medicine and medical equipment that was needed on the Island. They needed everything from antihistamines to Zoloft. The list of drugs may have been extensive, but it was nothing compared to the list of equipment. They needed things like: otoscopes, stethoscopes, and machines to check blood sugar, everything needed for IV administration, syringes, bandages, gauze pads, iodine, and alcohol. The list seemed endless.
Her thoughts returned to her husband as the sound of boat engines grew louder. There! She could see three boats approaching. One was larger than the other two and reminded her of the boat that brought them to the island. Mike was standing on the bow of the larger boat. He was grinning from ear to ear. She realized that her face mirrored his.
She hadn’t realized until she came down to the dock that she had been worried about him. It was the first time in a month that the couple had been apart from each other for more than ten minutes. Her heart had been pounding its way out of her chest as she waited for the boats to arrive. When he jumped from the bow, she hugged him tighter than she had in a long time.
After dinner, which was served in a communal dining hall, Indira and Jen cornered Jerry and presented him the list. He seemed more approachable than the Bishop. He told them that he would give the list to the Bishop in the morning. If there was anything that could be done, he would let them know.
Day 37
The Island
“What do you mean: have to wait?” It was too early for this. She hadn’t had coffee.
“The Bishop said there are other priorities right now.” Jerry could see that the two women were not going to take no for an answer. He had only met them yesterday, but these women were different than most of the people on the island. He wanted to say they seemed stronger. But it wasn’t that. It was something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“What other priorities? Does he realize how sick the people on this island actually are? Does he not understand what is going to happen to them if they continue to not take their meds?”
“He says he understands your dilemma, but there are other more pressing matters. If you can hold out for another week or so, he thinks he can have a team working on your list by then.”
Jen couldn’t believe her ears. Last night she and Indira had discussed, at great length, the poor state of the medical facilities on the island. Hell, the vet clinic they had been forced to take refuge in two weeks ago was better suited to meeting the needs of the people of the Island than this…this…this joke. There was nothing they could do about anything more than a paper cut.
“Where is The Bishop right now,” she demanded.
“In his office,” he answered. “He’s briefing the foragers.” Jen did not respond to the man, but turned on her heals, followed by Indira. “Wait,” he called. “You can’t interrupt him. He hates interruptions!” The women picked up their pace.
When they reached the office, the door was closed. They could hear a single voice inside. It was gruff and authoritative. The man wasn’t yelling, but everyone in and out of the room knew who was in charge. “…will go east. I need you to find showerheads, PVC pipe, and valves. Basically I want to have a running shower by tonight.”
Indira and Jen looked at each other with disgust. Was the safety of their patients being pushed aside so someone could have a warm shower? They burst through the door, Jen leading the charge. She recognized several of the people in the room. SSgt Brown and Sgt Procell were present.
The ship captain they had called ‘Bama was there, as well as one of the other men who had went with Mike yesterday. Eleven faces turned in unison towards the sudden intrusion.
“This s a closed meeting ladies,” The Bishop said. His voice betrayed his anger. “Have a seat outside. I will see you in a few minutes.”
“Sir,” Jen began. “We…”
“I said have a seat outside,” he cut her off forcefully. “I know why you are here, and will speak with you when we are done.”
“But…”
“Ladies if you do not get out of my office right now, I will be forced to have you removed by force.” He paused for the briefest of moments. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned ever-so-slightly up. “Do you ladies remember the only punishment that we have on this island?” That’s it. He’d won. The two women turned on their heels and slid out of the room like whipped puppies. The door closed behind them with a quiet click
Jerry was there waiting for them. “That was stupid.”
“You don’t understand,” Jen began.
He cut her off. “No, you don’t understand. You can’t go antagonizing him like that. It’s not safe.” The girls looked at him. The looks on their faces told him they didn’t understand. “Do you have any idea what happens if you piss him off?” Still, the girls looked confused. “How many people do you think we have on the island?”
“About one-hundred,” Indira answered quickly.
“Now, how many people came in with you from the mainland?”
“About fifteen or so,” answered Jen.
“We average about eight to ten a day. Now, we’ve been here for about two weeks. How many people do you two ladies think we should have here?”
“Between one-twenty and one-forty,” Indira answered. He could tell she was beginning to understand. “What happened to the others?” She asked.
“Ten died from wounds sustained during their travels. Three were to weak and sick to survive those first few days.” He paused for a moment. He wanted this to sink in. “Six people have been banished to the mainland.”