by James Evans
“Doc! Doc, wake up! We’re putting you in the canoe!”
Doc opened his eyes. They were glassy and bloodshot. His face was pale and sweating. He looked awful. He weakly tried to get out of the back seat, but Kevin had to help him, surprised by the heat emanating off Doc’s body. The zombies were getting closer and were rasping, a sure sign of their agitation. He put his arm around Doc and started for the canoe. Michelle met them halfway there and put Doc’s other arm around her shoulders. Together they carried him the remaining few feet to the canoe.
Michelle very ungracefully stepped into the canoe, nearly falling as it teetered in the water. She sat down heavily on the front bench as Kevin helped Doc step in. Michelle helped lower him onto the bottom of the canoe, then he began to cough again. He sat up and retched over the side of the canoe. The zombies were now within smelling distance. Kevin grabbed the two paddles from shore and considered whacking the zombies, but didn’t want to damage either paddle.
He shoved off from the beach, then turned the canoe around and splashed in, making it wobble precariously.
The zombies stumbled to the edge of the water and continued to rasp. Kevin flipped them the bird and said, “Bite me!!” When Michelle laughed, Kevin realized his double entendre and laughed, too. It felt good to laugh. It had been awhile.
As they paddled into the lake, Kevin saw the raft a short distance away. The one-armed zombie stood on the edge of the raft, reaching for them. Kevin turned away in disgust.
The zombies behind them continued to rasp. Kevin knew more zombies were nearby, even though he couldn’t see them.
Michelle commented on the loveliness of the scenery; the western edge of the lake was undeveloped and forest-covered dunes slowly rose from the south to overlook the lake outlet. If not for the zombies behind them, and the rasping sound others were now making around the lake, it would be idyllic.
Kevin’s right, I’ll bet this was a lovely vacation spot, she thought.
Kevin was having the opposite reaction. This lake is a dead zone. Zombies are the only residents. I’ll never come here again for pleasure, he thought morosely as they rounded a towering tree-covered dune and paddled into the outlet. Zombies have taken Lake Menekaunee from me. What else will they take?
In the bottom of the canoe, Doc began to cough.
They paddled to the lake outlet. For about a thousand feet, the outlet flowed from Lake Menekaunee into Lake Michigan. Too small and short to be a river, it was simply called the outlet.
Michelle quit paddling and scouted for any underwater obstacles. Kevin used his oar as a rudder and steered down the middle of the channel. As they rounded the last bend and the tree canopy gave way to a broad, sunny beach, Michelle’s attitude grew obviously brighter.
“Kevin, I love this place. Promise me we’ll come back here when things are back to… after everything… when it’s safe,” she said.
“I would love to come back here and enjoy a peaceful afternoon, just me and you,” Kevin replied. He wasn’t optimistic it could happen. Then again, he recalled she liked to sunbathe in the nude. Maybe he could work it out.
“Could I have a drink?” Doc muttered weakly from the floor of the canoe. Michelle reached down to feel his forehead. His fever had broken.
“Hey, Pops! How do you feel?” she asked as she opened a bottle of water and handed it to him.
“Like a wet dishrag. I have no energy. But I’m alive. Where am I?” He sounded exhausted, but he drank most of the water in one long pull from the bottle.
“You’re lying in the bottom of a canoe. We’re just about to paddle into Lake Michigan,” Kevin answered, steering them around a partially-submerged log.
“What time is it?”
“It’s early afternoon. You slept most of the way, thank God,” Kevin said. “Michelle said we need to get you to the hospital. We’re about an hour away from Frankfort.”
“It’s weird to be floating on the water and looking up into the sky. I feel so spacey! Give it to me straight, nurse. How bad am I?”
“You’re dehydrated, you’re feverish, and you’re probably malnourished. You have a wicked virus,” she said matter-of-factly.
Doc struggled to sit up, looked around for a moment, then lay back down. “I feel like a zombie,” he said to himself. As the canoe drifted down the outlet, he began lightly snoring.
“Is that normal?” Kevin asked. “A half-hour ago he was out cold. Now he seems practically well!”
“Fevers and other symptoms have regular peaks and valleys,” she replied. “Sometimes a patient will rally for a while. Sometimes it’s the beginning of their recovery; sometimes it’s their last hurrah.”
Kevin focused on the outlet. In years past, where the outlet fed into Lake Michigan, sometimes sand built up and the mouth became wide and shallow. They might have to portage a short way.
But this year, the channel stayed deep and narrow. With little effort on their part, they floated into Lake Michigan. The surf was rough, but manageable. Compared to ocean waves, freshwater waves come faster and more frequently as a result of their lower relative density. The lower density also made the canoe less buoyant, so they rode lower in the water. Paddling on one of the Great Lakes takes a lot of energy, and neither Kevin nor Michelle was in shape for this. Their daily activities in the basement didn’t strengthen their paddling muscles.
They were making good time but were tiring quickly. Water sprayed over the sides of the boat, dampening their clothes. The water was cold—probably in the lower 50s. When Michelle looked at Doc he was pale and shivering. He appeared to be unconscious again.
They had gone about a mile when Michelle said “Kevin, we need to stop. Doc’s wet and freezing. We need to get him warm and dry, otherwise he could die. And my arms are exhausted.”
Kevin nodded. His arms were aching too, but his manly pride hadn’t let him suggest they stop. They were close to the gray house where Kevin had purloined the canoe.
“See the gray house? That’s where I went before. Let’s stop.”
He beached the canoe and they pulled it higher ashore. The water was so cold it made Kevin’s legs hurt. Water was sloshing around in the bottom of the canoe; Doc’s makeshift bed was soaked. The Kevlar hull of the canoe didn’t transfer much of the cold from Lake Michigan, but the water in the bottom of the boat did. No wonder Doc was shivering.
They manhandled Doc out of the canoe, then Kevin carried him to the house, ignoring the dead zombie on the patio. He placed Doc in one of the weathered chaise lounges and waited a moment for Michelle to catch up. She’d pulled the canoe higher on the beach.
“I want to check inside before we go in,” he said. “Should we consider staying here for a while?”
“I don’t think so. Doc’s not getting better and the longer it takes to get him help, the more likely he is to die,” she said soberly. “Our best bet is to get him warm and dry and keep going.”
“I’ll grab some clothes and maybe figure out a way to keep him dry. I’ll be right back.”
“Before you go, help me get these wet clothes off,” Michelle said.
“Now you’re talking!” Kevin said with mock glee.
“Not off me, off Doc,” she replied.
“And what, leave him naked?”
“Being naked will warm him faster than lying in these cold wet clothes.” She started taking off his shoes and socks. Kevin unsnapped Doc’s jeans and helped pull them down, not an easy task with an unconscious 150-pound man. They left his boxers on. While Kevin removed Doc’s shirt, Michelle spread the clothes out on the patio to dry.
Kevin began to unbutton his shirt. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Giving Doc the shirt off my back,” he replied. “It’s fairly dry. You can use it as a blanket.” He was right, his shirt was barely damp. He draped it over Doc like a blanket. Already Doc’s color was better as the sun and warm bricks took the chill from his bones.
“How much farther do we have?” Michelle asked.
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“We’re about a third of the way. Let’s get a move on. I’ll check inside.” He entered the house through the broken sliding glass doors and paused in the dim light. Nothing had changed since his last visit. Litter was strewn across the floor, but no more than before.
He quietly tread his way along and tried to avoid stepping on anything. He ducked his head into the kitchen and bathroom, then the home office. No change, no zombies. He approached the closed door at the end of the hall.
The last time he was here, he peeked in the bedroom window. The remains of two bodies lay on the bed. It appeared one or both of them had decided to die with dignity rather than face being turned into a zombie. He hadn’t been able to see the entire room, but didn’t see or hear any movement from inside. There was likely a closet full of clothes in the bedroom; he intended to grab some for Doc.
Bare-chested, he put his shoulder to the door and heaved. The door gave a little but held. He stepped back and hit the door harder. The door-jamb cracked but didn’t break. He stepped back and hit it again. This time the jamb gave way and Kevin stumbled inside. He tripped over the broken wood and fell to the floor.
At the same moment his nose was assaulted by the odor of decay, he heard rasping and saw movement. Instantly a zombie was atop him, scrabbling at his arm as it attempted to bite him.
“OH!” Kevin yelled out. He raised his leg and tried to kick the zombie off him, but it grabbed his ankle and began to bite his foot. Fortunately, the leather was tough and the zombie’s rotting teeth could not pierce it. Kevin kicked again, this time catching the zombie in the head. It was flung backward but immediately recovered and again attacked Kevin.
The zombie must have once been a large man, perhaps an athlete. Despite the months spent in the bedroom, much of its mass remained. It easily outweighed Kevin, which worked to his disadvantage. The zombie clawed at Kevin, half-rotted jaw and lips forming a sneer as it sought Kevin’s flesh. Kevin deflected the jaw but wasn’t able to get the zombie off him. It grasped Kevin’s arm in both hands and lowered its mouth to bite.
He heard a loud BANG! as a bullet fired from Michelle’s gun caught the zombie just below the right ear. She fired again and the zombie’s head splattered the wall. The zombie collapsed on top of Kevin.
He struggled to push it off then jumped up, arms and legs buzzing with adrenalin. Michelle stood in the doorway wearing only her jeans and a bra. Her arms were outstretched, revolver in her hand. She looked angry.
Although his ears rang from the sound of the gun, he heard Michelle say, “What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why would you ever consider exploring this house without a weapon?!”
“I didn’t think about it,” Kevin said, feeling stupid.
“Kevin, you’re a smart guy, but sometimes you don’t act like it.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be alive!” she answered in an exasperated tone.
“What about you? Where is your shirt? Not that I mind the view,” he added.
“Your shirt didn’t cover Doc’s legs, so I used mine. Why were you in this room anyway?” she asked as she glanced in disgust at the two dead and decayed bodies on the bed. Much of their bones were exposed.
“Clothes for Doc. In the closet,” Kevin said. He still felt stupid but was also shaking from the adrenalin. Together they opened the closet door and peered in. A shelf over the hanging clothes had workout clothes. They grabbed a sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants and left the room. Kevin glanced at the zombie Michelle had just killed. Was it their son? A friend? A stranger? Kevin wondered. Whomever it used to be, Kevin had come close to being its victim. Too close. Michelle was right, he needed to get his head straight
They headed out the patio door. Doc was still in the chaise, Kevin’s shirt over his chest, Michelle’s shirt over his legs.
“Are you going to take your bra off, too?” Kevin asked hopefully. The look in her eyes told him the answer was no.
“Kevin, please. Help me get him dressed.”
“Do you think you could dress him while I look for something to keep him dry?”
Michelle sighed. “I guess so. His sweatshirt anyway. I may need help with his pants.”
“I’ll be back in a few. I’m hoping there’s something in the garage.” He went back through the patio doors and opened the door into the garage. He tensed when he heard the thwick-thwick-thwick sound he’d heard before, then reminded himself it was only a critter exiting through the pet door.
Kevin raised the garage door to let in more light and looked around. Everything looked exactly as it had the week before. The Range Rover and Sea-Doo were in the same spots, the wooden canoe was in the rack, and sports equipment was in bins. He sorted through the sporting goods, looking for something to keep Doc warm. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but hoped he’d know it when he found it.
He spied a narrow door and assumed it was a closet or storage area. As he opened it, something reached out and grabbed him.
With a frightened shout he jumped back and tripped over his own feet. The thing landed on him and he continued to yell as he struggled to escape. His arms and legs became tangled with the thing’s arms and legs. Michelle rushed in, now wearing her unbuttoned blouse, gun at the ready.
She stopped and stared. “Kevin, would you quit fooling around? We have to make this quick!” Only then did Kevin realize he was wrestling with an empty wetsuit. With his heart pounding, he rested his head against the cool cement floor.
“Oh!” he said, “Heh-heh, just trying to lighten things up.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you! But you were right, the wetsuit is perfect to keep Doc dry!” She walked over and picked it up. “Seems about his size, too! Good job, hon!”
Don’t do that to me, he chastised himself, I have enough to worry about without making things up! He peered into the closet and saw a collection of scuba gear: masks, fins, tanks, weighted belts, and a few more wetsuits. Nothing he needed except a couple of beach blankets. He grabbed them and headed back through the house to the patio.
Doc was sitting on the chaise wearing the sweats. Michelle handed him more pills and a bottle of water. He downed the pills, chased them with water, and lay back down.
Behind him lay the remains of the zombie Kevin had destroyed with the Petoskey Stone. Even a week later Kevin could see the splatter pattern cause by the putrid tissue as it sprayed from the head. He’d nearly obliterated the head; the cranium was completely destroyed; only the cheekbone and part of the nose remained.
Despite his repugnance, Kevin couldn’t help himself. He skirted the remains and circled the dry water feature. He brushed off a few stray leaves, studied the collection of Petoskey Stones and picked three of the nicer specimens, each about the size of small avocado. One for Michelle, one for Lee, and one for Carolyn. He hoped he’d see them again; they were both nice to him. He hadn’t told Michelle about their advances to him, but still considered them his friends.
“Kevin, come on!” Michelle urged. He stuffed the three stones in his pocket then helped get Doc to his feet. She’d already taken off his shoes. “Doc, we need to get this wetsuit on you to keep you dry,” she said. “Do you understand?” Doc nodded and raised one leg. Michelle threaded his foot into the unzipped wetsuit and pulled the material up until Doc’s foot was sticking out of the end. Kevin did the same. They put his shoes back on then pulled him into a standing position.
They finished getting him into the wetsuit and zipped it up. It was intended for a slightly larger man, but would still keep the water out. They helped Doc walk back to the canoe. He seemed a bit better now that he was dry and warm.
Doc was awake and aware but far too weak to get into the canoe without help. Kevin and Michelle supported him as he stepped inside. Kevin folded the beach blankets and arranged them on the floor of the canoe to act as insulated padding. Doc lowered himself onto the pad but stayed sitting up as he leaned against
the middle bench.
“Do you want to lie down?” Kevin asked.
“If I wanted to lie down I would have.” Doc weakly snapped.
Testy, testy! Kevin thought. He helped Michelle into the canoe and shoved off. Glancing back, Michelle exclaimed, “Kevin, look!”
Doc and Kevin looked in the direction she pointed. From the patio of the gray house they were being watched.
“Is that a man or a zombie?” Doc asked.
“It’s a zombie,” Kevin said. It didn’t move toward them, it simply stared from its higher vantage point. It was unsettling.
Within a few minutes of heavy paddling, Kevin was hot despite the cool breeze from the lake. Doc stared into space, his face flushed and his eyes glazed.
CHAPTER SIX
Fifteen minutes later they were paddling past the towering sand bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. It was right about here I saw... Kevin thought, then stopped. Lee was in exactly the same spot, topless again. Unaware of his actions, Kevin stopped paddling. Michelle noticed and looked ahead.
“Is that zombie topless?”
“It’s not a zombie, it’s Lee,” Kevin said.
“Why is she topless?”
“I think she’s a nudist,” Kevin replied.
“Why would you think she’s a nudist? Did you see her topless before?”
“Yes,” Kevin said.
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me?” Michelle asked with irritation.
“It wasn’t relevant,” Kevin said. Lee had noticed them and put on her blouse. As they drew near, Kevin steered the boat close to shore.
“Kevin, is that you? Back again so soon? Couldn’t live without me, eh?” Kevin laughed, but Michelle’s face grew dark.
This woman seems overly friendly, she thought.
“No time for small talk,” Kevin called. “Our friend here is very sick. We have to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. Could you radio the hospital and let them know we’ll be landing on the marina dock? See if they can have a cart waiting?! Oh, and this is my wife, Michelle. Michelle, Lee.”