by Ricky Sides
Cursing vehemently, Herb picked up his phone and called Randy. The two men talked for fifteen minutes, and then Herb left to meet his friend.
Chapter 3
The Rescue
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Randy asked Herb for the third time. “I mean, all we have with us are .22 rifles.”
“People in Louisiana hunt alligators with .22 rifles. If it will take out a 14 foot gator, I think we’ll be fine, as long as we go for head shots,” Herb responded as he climbed into the boat.
Herb had borrowed the 18 foot long aluminum-hulled watercraft from a friend. It was powered by a 115 horsepower Evinrude motor, which he planned to use for the first part of his mission. It was also equipped with a 55 pound thrust, 24 volt, trolling motor.
On the north side of the Tennessee River, there are numerous small boat ramps as well as a major facility at a local campground named the Cowford. Herb had opted to avoid using the larger facility. He knew that it was under observation by members of the Limestone County Sheriff’s Department. Instead, he was using one of the smaller launches, located west of it and well past US Browns Ferry Nuclear Plant.
Herb wanted to avoid the risk of being spotted by the guards at the power plant, so the plan called for them to use the Evinrude motor, at little more than idle speed, until they crossed half the distance to the other side of the river. Then, Herb would throttle up a bit more, but even then, he planned to keep the powerful engine at less than half throttle. When they were within a hundred yards of the Decatur shore, Herb would turn toward the bridge and resume traveling at little more than an idle. As they closed on the building where he had seen the refugees take shelter, he would kill the Evinrude and use the trolling motor to maneuver the rest of the way in to the landing.
“I wish I had my M4,” Randy said nervously when they reached the point where Herb could give the motor more throttle.
“So do I, but we don’t,” Herb replied. “Our .22s will do for this mission,” he reassured his friend.
“That’s easy for you to say. You brought a Smith and Wesson M&P 15-22, with 25 round magazines,” Randy carped.
“Relax, buddy. The life it saves may be your own,” Herb countered.
“I know, I’m just saying that you are better off than me. I’ve just got this old Marlin semi auto rifle that holds 14 rounds, and then you have to reload it.”
“It’s a good rifle, and you’re used to it. You’ll be fine. Besides, you brought your speed loaders, didn’t you?” Herb countered.
He was referring to aluminum arrow shafts that had been cut down and converted to hold sufficient ammo to reload the Marlin. When the rifle was empty, you just pulled the magazine tube rod out, uncapped the correct end of the arrow shaft, and dumped a load of bullets into the tube. You had to remember to cover the loading slot with a finger so that the rounds didn’t fall out as you were loading, but then all you had to do was insert the rod, lock it down, and chamber a round. Both men had practiced extensively with the devices, competing to see who would win. Randy usually won those contests, which was one of the reasons Herb opted to buy the Smith and Wesson.
“That’s true,” Randy said.
“Just remember not to load them backwards,” Herb said with a smile, knowing that Randy couldn’t see it in the dark.
“Hey, I only made that mistake once. Since then, we permanently sealed that end of the tubes,” Randy said defensively.
“Right, so all you have to remember is to load them lead side up and they’ll load into the magazine tubes properly.”
“That’s right and...”
“Quiet!” Herb whispered as he lowered the throttle on the Evinrude. “I hear a boat motor, and it’s getting louder.”
The two men listened to the sound of the approaching boat motor. It sounded as if it too were running at little more than a quarter throttle. Herb dropped the Evinrude to an idle and activated the trolling motor. He used that to move them away from the sound of the approaching boat at a right angle.
“Sit down in the bottom of the boat and stay low,” Herb whispered to Randy. He needed to stay in his seat in order to operate the trolling motor, but Herb did the best he could to lower his own profile by hunching over.
Randy did as his friend instructed. He had just settled down in the bottom of the boat when a searchlight sprang to life less than a hundred yards from their position. The intense beam of light was aimed at the Decatur shoreline. The operator tracked the light to the right, away from the two friends in the aluminum boat. He was taking his time as he examined the far shore.
Herb reacted instinctively. He turned the bow of the boat and headed back toward the north shore. He did this on the assumption that the man with the light would soon sweep it back in the other direction, and if that happened before they managed to get clear of the path of the beam, then they would be discovered, which would end their mission for the night.
He wasn’t concerned about being arrested, should they be caught. The two friends had already agreed on a story they would use if that happened. They would just tell the authorities that they were National Guardsmen who had turned around quarantined people on the river the night before, and since they were off duty, they decided to patrol the river anyway, because it was so important that the quarantine not be breached.
However, discovery would end their chances of effecting a rescue of the people they had turned back the previous night, and that was a wrong that both men wanted very much to right.
“Watch the beam for me,” whispered Herb. “Warn me if it gets anywhere near us.”
“You’ve got it,” Randy said as he squirmed around on the bottom of the boat, turning his body so that he could see the beam of light. “He’s tracking it left now,” Randy whispered. “Can you turn left a bit more? I think we can get outside his search pattern if you do.”
Herb made another course adjustment while his friend maintained watch.
“Okay, hold this course a moment. The beam is sweeping right again.”
Herb waited for further instructions. Three minutes passed, and then the searchlight switched off and the other boat throttled up to move further down the river. The men could tell from the diminishing sound of the motor that the boat was leaving them behind. Herb turned the aluminum boat back toward the Decatur shoreline. He used the trolling motor, until he could no longer hear the sound of the other boat moving away, and then he utilized the Evinrude once more.
Since they had just encountered a search boat, Herb was in a hurry to reach the people, rescue them, and get back to the safe side of the river. He knew that there was always a possibility that the people on patrol in the other boat could catch them in a compromising position. If that happened, it was likely that they would be forced to land on the Decatur shore where they would join the other people who were there in quarantine.
They came within sight of the bank of the river and turned back toward the building where they watched the people go ashore the previous night. They had just begun that leg of their trip when Randy warned Herb that the patrol boat was returning, and that it was once more using its searchlight.
Herb felt a moment of fear. His heart pounded faster as he calculated their position and the remaining distance left to travel. They were now traveling with the trolling motor. Using the Evinrude at this point was a liability, and not just because of the searchers. There were also the zombies to consider. They would be attracted to the sound of the engine. Then Herb spotted a place where some tree limbs were hanging out over the river. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to conceal the boat beneath that canopy, but his options were non-existent at that point. If he didn’t conceal the boat in the next couple of minutes, the patrol boat crew would catch them.
There wasn’t time to use the trolling motor to maneuver the boat into the concealment, so he was forced to open the throttle on the Evinrude to about one quarter. The powerful engine pushed them in the right direction and soon he was able to throttle back. “Watch
your head,” he whispered to Randy just before he turned the boat and let it move under the tree. “Try to use the tree to stop us, but don’t shake it if you can avoid it.”
Randy didn’t respond, but he managed to grab hold of a thick limb and arrest the movement of the boat. He stood wide-eyed and watched as the searchlight moved toward them. “Tilt your head down, so they don’t spot your face,” Randy advised, and then he followed his own advice just before the beam of light passed over their position slowly.
Ambient light penetrating through the foliage of their hiding spot permitted Herb to see the bottom of the boat in good detail. When it grew dark again, he tilted his head back up and watched as the beam moved on across the shore.
The two friends heard a low-pitched moan come from somewhere in the foliage along the bank behind them. The sound caused the hairs on the back of Herb’s neck to rise.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” whispered Randy. He pushed against the tree limb, shoving the boat backwards and out from under the concealment of the overhanging tree limbs.
The men heard the moaning sound again. This time, it sounded louder. They could also hear breaking twigs. The back of their boat stopped about five feet from the bank as Herb engaged the trolling motor.
Behind them, a zombie burst out of the foliage and reached out toward the men in the boat. It uttered another of those eerie moans.
Randy saw its ravaged face and neck by the light of the quarter moon. He had been forced to put his rifle in the bottom of the boat in order to hold on to the tree earlier. Now that one of the zombies confronted them, he turned around and grabbed the Marlin. He was raising his rifle in preparation for firing when Herb said, “Hold your fire! You’ll draw the patrol back on us!”
By that time, the boat had moved another three feet. The zombie saw that its prey was getting away. It voiced another of those nerve-racking moans, and then it lunged forward, toward their boat.
Randy opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he could do so, the zombie had already fallen into the river with a big splash.
Herb turned around and looked behind him. “Thank God it missed,” he said, and then he turned back around to face Randy.
“Yeah, but can they swim?”
“I guess that depends on whether or not the man could swim before he was transformed by the parasites,” Herb responded. “The news said...”
Herb was interrupted by a violent jerk on the back of the boat. He whirled around and looked behind the boat but saw nothing. Then, he lowered his gaze and saw the hand of the zombie that had tried to reach them.
Herb grabbed the handle of the Evinrude and gave it some gas. As he did so, he pushed down on the handle, which shoved the foot of the motor toward their attacker. The whirling propeller bit into the zombie, but it did not let go of its grip on the back of the boat. It did however come to the surface, and one glance at its face informed Herb that he was dealing with a creature that felt no pain.
“Should I shoot it?” Randy asked.
“No. You’ll draw the patrol back to us. Leave it to me,” Herb responded. He reached down beside him and picked up the small anchor that was sitting beside his seat. Grasping the rope, three feet beneath the hook shaped anchor, he let it dangle in his hand and smashed it into the face of the attacking zombie with all his might. The blunt backside struck it and the attack caved in its face with a sickening crunch, but didn’t kill the undead creature.
The zombie reacted by letting go of the boat and latching onto the weighted anchor with both hands. It wasn’t heavy enough to cause him to sink on its own, but the creature made no effort to swim. Therefore, it sank from sight.
Herb drew a sheath knife from his side and began to saw through the rope. He felt the weight of the zombie pulling on it as it tried to pull its body back up to the surface, so he sawed at the rope more frantically. Finally, the last strand of the rope parted as the zombie’s head broke the surface. It immediately sank from view.
“Can we use the damned motor now?” Randy asked.
Herb grabbed the handle of the Evinrude and opened the throttle to one quarter. The boat surged away from the bank, leaving the zombie to its fate. Herb throttled down as he turned to parallel the shoreline, and engaged the trolling motor once more. “Can you see the patrol boat?” he asked Randy, who had resumed his seat in the bow of the boat and was blocking his view.
“They are way off in the distance and seem to be heading back to the boat harbor,” Randy reported.
“Good. I was afraid they may have heard all of that commotion.”
“We’re not making very good speed. Should we use the big motor again?” Randy inquired.
“No, I don’t think we should. The noise will attract more zombies. We’ll be okay. We’re just fighting the current at the moment. It’ll be faster when we make the return trip.”
The remainder of the trip to the place where they had towed the people the night before was nerve-racking, but uneventful. Randy stepped ashore and pulled the boat up higher on the bank right beside the remnants of the raft that the people had used the night before.
The men had agreed on a plan of action before they arrived at the location. They would remain quiet once they landed and then make their way to the building where they had seen the people going the previous night. Once there, they planned to try the door. If it were locked, then they would knock on the door and hope that someone was close enough to hear them.
Herb grabbed his rifle and joined Randy on the bank. He tied the line that was attached to the boat to a nearby sapling with a slipknot, and then they made their way to the door of the nearby building. It was only about sixty feet to the building, but the men took their time. Herb took the lead. He would take a few steps and stop to look around and listen. Randy followed him, stopping when he did. Both men made every effort to travel quietly. When they paused to listen, they opened their mouths to improve their hearing.
Their hearts beat rapidly as fear threatened to overwhelm them. They knew from firsthand experience that Decatur was overrun with zombies, and now they were standing on the quarantined land where the undead prowled. They had fought them on the bridge with M4s, and had trouble killing them. Now they were armed with their .22 rifles against a foe that was hard to put down with standard military weapons.
They reached the building without incident and stopped at the back door to a large metal building. Herb tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked three times softly, so as not to attract the attention of any zombies that might be lurking in the area. He waited two seconds and then knocked two times, paused another two seconds and finished the sequence with a single knock. He did this in order to let the people he was hoping were inside know that they weren’t zombies.
After completing the knocking set, they waited in silence for a full minute. As they waited, they listened to see if the noise had attracted zombies. Then Herb tried again. This time, he began the sequence with one knock and ended it with three.
As they were waiting and listening, they heard an answering knock from inside. It repeated the set that Herb had just used.
“We’re here to help,” Herb said quietly. He held his mouth near the door.
“Say that again. I can barely hear you,” a female voice responded.
“We’re here to help you. Open the door,” Herb said, only this time he spoke a little louder.
Herb heard the lock being manipulated, and then the door opened. “Oh, it’s you,” the woman said when she saw who was at the door.
Herb recognized her from the night before. “Are the others okay?” he asked in obvious concern.
“We are, no thanks to you,” a male voice said from behind the woman who had opened the door.
“Now, James, be nice,” the woman who had opened the door said. “They did give us food.”
“We’re here to take you to the other side of the river,” Herb explained. “You’ll have to be very quiet. Get the others and let’s go.”
“Look, we don’t have time for this,” Herb said. “Long story short, the zombies have broken containment already, so I can’t see making you people stay here. I forced you to come back here. I said I was sorry, but I was just following orders. I didn’t like it at the time, so now we are here to right that wrong. I mean that. Now I’m here to help you, so please get the others. We have to go.”
“I think...”
“That’s enough, James. He’s right. Now isn’t the time for this. Get the others,” the woman said.
James turned to the woman and nodded. “All right, Laura, you’re right. Now isn’t the time,” he conceded, and then he turned and went back into the darkened confines of the building.
“Herb, I think I heard something moving through the brush over that way,” Randy whispered. He was pointing toward a small stand of bamboo thirty feet to the east.
“Okay, keep your eyes and ears open,” Herb responded quietly. He turned to the woman and said, “Go rush those people. Tell them to leave everything and come on out now. And warn them to be very quiet,” he instructed her in a hushed tone of voice.
The woman nodded her understanding and left to get the others.
As the two friends stood guard at the door, they heard someone scream. It wasn’t very loud, but it had an impact in their area. A rustling sound emanated from the brush that Randy had indicated moments before, and then they heard what sounded like someone crashing through the undergrowth heading in the opposite direction. A moan drifted to their ears, causing the two men to look at one another. Randy opened his mouth to speak, but Herb put a finger to his lips and shook his head, indicating that his friend should remain quiet.