by Ricky Fleet
“Is everyone ok?” Kurt asked and they all checked each other over and apart from some light bruising they were all unharmed.
“It was close,” John stated and they all agreed, they could not go recklessly into combat like that again, they would not get lucky every time.
“Follow me,” Kurt said and walked to the docks, looking for any vessels that were suitable. Most were small, personal fishing boats for taking out with friends and some beer. None had the outboard motor fixed in place as they were taken off to deter thieves. The larger ones would all be started by key and a spare set was often kept in the clubhouse safe, but gaining entry was out of the question with the crowd of rot surrounding it. If they could even fight through the horde they lacked the requisite safe cracking experience, and nobody had the skills to hotwire one either. Their only choice was two less than sturdy looking row boats which had the oars laid within.
“Well it isn’t like we are used to luxury anymore,” Gloria told them and climbed carefully into the boat, switching weight from leg to leg with the gentle rock before seating herself. The others split themselves and settled in, only Debbie remained on the dock, a resolute look on her face.
“You won’t get me on something like that. Look at it, it’s going to sink,” she complained despite the fact they were both holding several people with no signs of leakage.
“Please just get on, Debs, it’s safe, I promise,” Peter pleaded with his fiancée.
“How many boats have you ever been on, you fool?” she questioned with a taunt.
“Bye,” Kurt said and started to row away, leaving her blustering on the jetty. He looked at Peter who was torn between the choices and winked, trying to communicate that it was just a scare tactic. John made to push off and she came running, stepping down into the curved bottom and slumping onto the wooden seat. Kurt was twenty yards away and decided to clear the air with Peter.
“Sorry, I had to do that, every second counts,” Kurt told their new member.
“I know, it’s ok,” Peter replied, embarrassed at the whole situation.
“Has she always been like this?” Kurt had to know, “How the hell could you put up with it?”
“She was never this bad, you know, before it all happened. She didn’t hit me as much before.” He lowered his head and watched the water as it splashed against the wooden side. The oars left a sudsy wake on the surface from the dirty sea. The harbour was not pristine by any stretch of the imagination, debris and rubbish washed in with the tides.
“She shouldn’t hit you at all,” Paige added and the rest agreed.
“It’s not like that. She would only ever do it if I made her angry.” Peter tried to defend her, but he heard how pathetic it sounded as he was uttering the words. Paige gave his arm a squeeze and Honey jumped up and licked his face, showing her canine love.
Kurt reached the harbour wall first, rounded the concrete marker, and the long island which housed the army divisions came into view. Houses, workshops, industrial storage units for the real hardware, and the evenly spread, manned watchtowers were surrounded by high fences and razor wire.
“Watch out!” came a shout from the other boat and Kurt looked around, unsure of what the problem was as they were a good distance from any land or obstacle. Then he saw it, a bloated, wet, decomposing zombie was floating along like a piece of driftwood, carried on the current that was heading out with the tide. Kurt backstroked and stopped the vessel just in time. Its arms reached and were within inches of finding purchase. Who knew if it would have the ability to pull itself on board, but with the weight of the passengers, the rim of the hull was only eight inches clear of the water’s surface. It cleared the craft and carried on the long journey out to sea. This new revelation, that even the open water was dangerous, filled them with a deeper dread. The planet was a death trap, every inch now held mortal threats to the remaining humans.
“Thanks for the heads up,” said Kurt to those in the other boat which was now alongside. They looked as the zombie floated away, carried past the massed thousands that were blocked by the troop carriers on the bridge. They were surprised to see the crowd was unwilling to go into the river to reach the meal on the island. Any dead that fell were pushed or jostled into the water, where they would bob around for a bit before following the same path out to the Solent as their receding bloated friend.
The group rowed the remaining distance and ran the vessels up the pebble beach. The fence was eight feet high, and from what they could see, it ran the complete perimeter of the island. Corpses were scattered here and there as far as the eye could see, some still clinging to the chain link fence. They had all been shot in the head at close range, open skulls and gaping wounds the work of the rifles and pistols carried by the soldiers.
“I told you we would make it!” Peter told Debbie triumphantly, but she was still unhappy.
“Let’s walk and see if we can get the attention of one of the guard towers,” Sam suggested. They didn’t need to as soldiers were running towards the group, guns raised.
“Halt, don’t move!” screamed one of the men as he dropped to one knee and sighted the group with his assault rifle.
“Drop the gun!” shouted another to Gloria who quickly lowered the shotgun and placed it on the stony beach.
“Wait, we aren’t infected, we need your help,” Kurt pleaded and moved to talk to the pair.
“Don’t fucking move I said!” bellowed the man. Honey ran to the fence, barking ferociously with her hackles raised. The soldier aimed the gun at the dog and Paige rushed forward, shielding her.
“Please, we just want to talk.” Kurt had raised his arms and spoke to the larger of the two men who had two arrows on the arm of his uniform shirt which indicated to Kurt he was the most senior.
“Call it in,” said the steely eyed man, not lowering his gun.
“HQ, this is Mills, come in, over,” the junior soldier spoke into the radio with a crackle of static.
“This is HQ, go ahead, over,” was the tinny response.
“We have civilians in the western quadrant, request course of action, over.”
Seconds passed that felt like minutes facing the barrels of the guns.
“Sit tight, Mills, Lieutenant Baxter is on his way. Keep them covered, over.”
“Copy, over.”
Kurt tried to speak to the men, but they refused to be drawn into a conversation. The guns never wavered and the group understood that they would be shot if they pressed the issue. Despite the fall of mankind, the army was still maintaining strict discipline and security where possible.
“I knew we should have stayed in our house,” Debbie exclaimed, totally forgetting the fact that their food would have disappeared within a week or two and they would have had to run the gauntlet through the gathered dead, probably fatally.
“Will you just shut up!” Braiden croaked at her.
“How dare you speak to me like that, you horrible little shit!” Debbie spat back venomously and Braiden stepped towards her.
“I said don’t move,” yelled the soldier, aiming the pistol directly at the youngster who paused mid stride.
Debbie and Braiden stared with hatred at each other and Kurt was bitterly regretting his decision to stop at their house. Peter was proving to be one of the good guys, but Debbie was as far removed from him as it was possible to be. How they ever ended up dating he didn’t know. He would make a point of asking at some point if they survived this episode.
“Braiden, this isn’t the time, mate,” Kurt whispered, trying to calm the teenager before he did something drastic. Braiden relaxed but refused to break eye contact with the awful woman.
In the distance three more men were approaching, casually and in no rush. They knew the fence and the firearms would ensure cooperation in the group that had reached their base. The lieutenant stepped forward and appraised the survivors, looking at each. He was well turned out, his uniform crisp and ironed, six-foot-tall and with misty blue eyes that we
re unsettling when they met your gaze. It was as if he was looking at their souls, judging them for their deeds past and present.
“What can we do for you folks?” he finally talked and his voice was warm and friendly, but the eyes still exuded ice despite the smile.
“I’m Kurt, this is my family and that’s Debbie and Peter,” Kurt started.
“Pleased to meet you all, I’m Lieutenant Baxter, 42nd Artillery Regiment,” he replied and nodded at the group.
“We need your help. We have been through hell to get here,” Kurt said and the massed groans from the thousands of moving corpses half a mile away was testament to the fact.
“I’m sorry but we are under strict orders to not take any refugees, our facility is small and we simply cannot house civilians,” Baxter answered, still smiling.
“But you have to! We can’t go back out there, look at those things!” Kurt shouted at the senior soldier and the smile disappeared in an instant. “I’m sorry, but going back means death, please?” Kurt implored.
“I know what is out there. I have lost men to them before we barricaded the bridge with the vehicles,” Baxter said, reliving the first hours of the outbreak and remembering the brave men and women that had been on guard duty, who had died rather than abandon their posts.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. We can help you. We can pull our weight and earn our keep.” John took over, seeing the look of frustration that was boiling below the surface of his son.
“It’s just not possible, I’m truly sorry, believe me. We have had to turn others away, some forcibly.” The lieutenant emphasised the final word, telling the group that they would be shot if they tried to break in.
“Who is the commander here? Can we speak to him and plead our case? There must be a way,” John pressed on, ignoring the threat because the tearing teeth were far more terrifying to them.
“You are talking to me,” he stated, all warmth now gone, only the icy stare remaining. “And I am telling you that you must leave the island or you will be treated as a threat and be fired upon.”
The other soldiers cocked their weapons but didn’t aim, the message was loud and clear. Only one of the troops had a look of sympathy, the rest were as resolute and committed to their orders as their commander.
The family huddled up. All hope was lost now, their spirits crushed. They had all secretly known that the army would take them in, house them, feed them and protect them. The truth was; they had risked the journey for nothing.
“I’m sorry everyone. I don’t know what to do,” Kurt said, lost and forlorn.
“We keep moving!” Braiden whispered, which allowed him to talk with no pain.
“That’s a great idea, let’s just go and say hello to the creatures over there!” Debbie rounded on Braiden who was still furious at her. Before he could act she defiantly stormed over to the fence. “Now you listen here, I pay my taxes, which pays your wages. So technically you work for me, now I am demanding you let us in!” her voice rose to a shriek at the end.
The lieutenant took out his sidearm and fired a shot directly over her shoulder and she could hear the hiss of the passing slug as it tugged at her hair.
“Jesus! Don’t shoot!” Peter shouted and grabbed at Debbie who was staring in shock at the man, before falling onto her rump as she was yanked away from the fence.
“You have five minutes to leave, after that, shoot them,” Baxter told his men who looked ready to carry out the order. Only the young private looked uneasy at the prospect of firing on some of the last remaining humans on Earth. With this he walked away and the four subordinates took up positions to cover the group, their rifles and pistols were raised though not aimed any more. The single shot had been a suitable deterrent.
The family made their way back to the small boats, slump shouldered and quiet. They exchanged looks, lacking the words to convey the sense of desolation they all felt. Even Debbie was mercifully silent for once, though the shock would not last, they were sure of that.
“Hey, wait!” shouted the young soldier and the family looked back to see him approach the fence. The three others were not happy that he was trying to talk to them and disobeying orders, but they didn’t interfere. “There was a FOB set up at St Richard’s Hospital at the start of this.” Kurt just shrugged, unsure what the man was trying to tell them.
“Sorry, forward operating base. Some of our guys were dispatched to secure the medicines, equipment, and medical staff to help fight the outbreak. They may still be there,” he explained, desperately wanting to help them.
“You know how many of those things are between us and the hospital?” Kurt asked and the look on the young man’s face told them he did.
“It’s a chance,” he replied, knowing how weakly it came across.
“Have they been successful?” John asked, seizing this small sliver of hope.
“We haven’t had contact for a while,” replied the soldier and the conversation was over.
John and Kurt looked at one another and climbed in after the others, picking up the oars and pushing off from the stony beach. The silence that marked their return to the jetty was only interrupted by the occasional sound of water splashing as another zombie was displaced and fell into the water, ready to begin their unceasing flow with the changing tides.
They reached the barnacled moorings and tied the boats off before climbing back onto the wooden dock. They stood there for long minutes, holding one another silently, only Peter and Debbie standing to one side, estranged more so than ever. Paige reached out and pulled him in and Gloria tried to do the same with his cold fiancée but she just stepped back and ignored the gesture, while shooting hateful looks at Peter.
“So what do we do now?” Sam asked and Honey looked from face to face as if she waited for an answer too.
“It will be dark soon. I think we should reverse the vehicles to block the dock, then bed down in one of these larger vessels,” John suggested.
“Why don’t we try for one of the houses? The ones on stilts that we passed,” Debbie added, joining in for the first time. It was likely because she wanted more luxury than the hard floor of the boats. It would be a lot warmer and no one raised any objections.
“We will need to clear the area to be safe. I only saw three or four by the homes. We will need to be careful of the large group by the clubhouse. Do we risk moving the vehicles and the noise or shall we try and go on foot?” Kurt asked.
“I would be happier being closer to the vehicles. If we need to escape quickly I would prefer it if we don’t have to cross the marina to reach our transportation,” John answered and Kurt had to agree. Following the main roads and pathways it would only be about five hundred feet and on foot through the storage racks probably half the distance. In a world of walking horror, it could mean certain death.
They drove slowly back into the rows of stored boats, small and large laid out on racks ready for their owners who would never again take them out on the open sea. Kurt glimpsed the square community of twenty homes and came to a stop.
“Shit!” he muttered.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Sarah asked, leaning forward. Kurt’s pointing finger indicated the much larger numbers who were now wandering around aimlessly by the stilted sanctuaries. Around twelve were immediately visible with more probably hidden by the environment, far too many to risk fighting for a good night’s sleep. Kurt opened the window and pointed for John to survey too, he could see the look of disappointment register on his father’s face. John thumbed backwards, trying to say ‘Boats?’ and Kurt gave him the thumbs up, slowly reversing, careful not to rev the engine and bring attention to themselves. They parked blocking the access ramp. The only way in would be to break through the van and climb out through the back doors.
They took all of the bed sheets and duvets they had salvaged to use as covers for the coming night. It was going to be long and bitterly cold, sleep would be difficult. The rhythmic motion of the boat and their fatigue would
aid them. They picked a small for-hire fishing boat that had a sizeable canopy which would be a lifesaver if the grey sky shed the rain that was massing in the clouds overhead. Without mattresses they tried to use some of the thick duvets for comfort, but it left them with little to lay across their bodies when the temperature dropped.
“Shit!” Kurt muttered, sitting down on the edge of the boat in frustration.
“It’s ok, Dad, me and Braiden will go and see what we can find on the other boats,” Sam said and the boys set off to forage for anything that could help.
“Don’t panic, Kurt, worst case scenario is that we sleep on the deck and get bad backs. We will be warm enough.” Peter smiled, still cheerful in spite of their situation. Kurt nodded, appreciating the sentiment.
Honey chuffed quietly in agreement and licked his hand, Peter stroked her and she lay down, exposing her belly which he gently scratched causing her hind leg to kick involuntarily.
“Thanks, Peter. You are right, we will get through this,” Gloria said and smiled at their new friend.
“Great, a freezing floor and sharing blankets with strangers. Count me out. I am sleeping in the van.” Debbie huffed and picked up a duvet. Kurt grabbed it and pulled it from her hands aggressively, putting it back on the pile and meeting her furious expression.
“You sleep in the van and you do it without our blankets. Understand?” Kurt spoke quietly. He was seething and she knew it, he would either hit her or throw her into the dirty water.
“Fine, fuck you all!” She stormed off and Peter was tempted to go after her but he knew it was what she expected. Kurt sighed with disgust and passed a duvet to Peter.
“You should go to her, we will be ok.” Kurt was tired in body and soul. Fighting the Hellspawn was one thing, but his faith in human nature was being tested to the limit by the prevalence of malevolence and selfishness in those he encountered. What was the saying, the meek will inherit the Earth? Bullshit, Kurt thought to himself.