“Be careful with that thing.” Beaux shoved the clips in his pocket and jogged across the parking area. Mindi followed a few steps behind.
Their feet clomped on the wooden dock with the sound of water splashing against the pylons as background music. The only other sound was the hum from the sodium vapor lights overhead and their labored breathing.
“I’m scared. We’re not going to make it. I just know we’re not,” Mindi said with a whimper.
Beaux had a sudden urge to slap her, but restrained himself, and turned down the dock. “We’re almost there. Just keep it together a little while longer and it’ll all be over.”
The patrol boat was bigger than he had imagined. He felt a wave of regret for leaving the others behind. There was plenty of space on the boat, and having others around did bring a sense of security. The decision had been made, though. He just had to suck it up. “Climb aboard, and I’ll untie the rope.” Beaux went to work and pulled the knot free. He followed her onto the deck and found Mindi standing by the cockpit.
“It’s locked,” she said.
“Locked? It can’t be!”
Mindi stepped away to reveal a padlock securing the door.
“Fuck! Stand back.” He raised the pistol.
Mindi darted away and put her hands to her ears.
Beaux fired two shots. After the third, he grabbed his left shoulder and cursed.
“What happened?” Mindi said.
“A bullet fragment hit me in the shoulder.”
“Is the lock off?”
“Hell, no. It’s too hard for the bullets to penetrate.”
“Why don’t we just push away from the dock? We can float safely in the water until we figure out a way to get it?”
“I’ve already untied us. The tide is keeping the boat pushed against the dock. There’s no way I can push us away from here.”
A fire extinguisher caught Mindi’s eye. She pulled it off its base and brought it to the door. “I’ll see if I can beat it off.”
Beaux moved his hand away and examined his wound, while Mindi pounded away. The injury wasn’t as severe as it felt. The fragment had sliced through the skin about a quarter inch deep and passed through. Light shining on the boat dimmed. “We’ve got trouble.”
“What?”
“I guess the gunshots woke a few up. They’re coming. Move, and let me try.”
Mindi handed him the fire extinguisher and went to the side of the boat. “There’re three. Hurry.”
The extinguisher was heavy. It was difficult to aim the bottom and strike the padlock’s body near the shank. He had seen locks open this way in the movies at least half a dozen times. Unfortunately, he had seen a fair share of zombie movies too. He didn’t know if he’d be able to pop it open in time.
“Hurry! They’re almost here!”
“Shoot ’em! Hold ‘em off long enough for me to get this open.”
Mindi pulled the pistol from her waistband and pointed it at the first zombie. Her hands shook. She closed one eye and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed. The gun rang off three more times before the zombie’s head jerked to the side. It hesitated for a moment, and then plodded forward again. The next shot brought it down.
“I got one!”
“The latch is starting to loosen. Just a minute longer.”
The gun fired in rapid succession as a response. A body thudded on the boat’s deck as it fell from the dock. The last zombie landed on it when it stepped down toward its prey.
“It’s on the boat!”
“Kill it!”
Mindi raised the pistol and pulled the trigger. She had been so distracted she hadn’t realized the pistol’s slide was locked back. The gun was empty.
She turned and saw Beaux’s gun in her face.
“Duck!” he cried, and shot the zombie two times in the head.
It fell to the deck and left a blood splatter that reminded Beaux of spilled cranberry juice. He wasted no time rolling the two monsters off the side of the boat.
Mindi brought the extinguisher crashing down one final time. The hasp pulled away from the door facing. “It’s open.”
Beaux wiped his hands on his shorts and worried he might have picked up whatever disease the Army had put in the water.
The keys were right where Mason had told him. “We made it. Hang on, Mindi. I’m about to get us out of here.” The engines roared to life. “Smell them diesel fumes? Smells like freedom.”
“Can’t we wait awhile and see if the others make it?”
“Nope. I’m getting us out of here. There’s no way they survived that zombie army. Plus, I don’t think zombies can swim, but I’m not sticking around to find out.”
The engines rumbled into reverse. The patrol boat slowly pulled away from the dock.
* * *
“How you doing, buddy?” Mason asked as the group neared Picou Bait and Tackle.
“I’ve got a pain in my side. I guess I cracked a rib, or something.” Troy trotted with a hand pressed to his left side.
“Hold on a little longer. We’re keeping our distance.”
“Which way? There are two docks,” Joyce called out. Despite her pampered ways, Mason figured she must have spent a good amount of time on the treadmill. She had run the distance better than the others had, including him.
“The one on the left. The big boat on the end.”
“I see it.”
Mason wasn’t sure if it was only his imagination, but the zombies following seemed to be gaining ground.
“Just a little farther, honey,” Skylar said.
Rosella had not said a word during the entire race for their lives. She kept her gaze to the ground, staring vacantly.
Mitch had kept a watchful eye on Rosella, more than he had Joyce. Mason had no doubt that Mitch was ready to spring to her aid at any second.
“The boat’s pulling away!” Joyce yelled.
Mason saw the Hummer parked near the landing earlier. It was farther away than the boat, so he didn’t want to take the chance and change destinations. Even if they had made it to the truck, they would still be stuck in Botte, having to fight through a gauntlet of zombies and God knows what else to get to the next Parish. He had gambled wrong. “I’ll kill that bastard with my bare hands!” he yelled.
By the time the group reached the patrol boat’s slip, it was halfway out into the harbor.
* * *
“Beaux! It’s the others! They just showed up on the dock,” Mindi said.
“Really?” Beaux shifted to neutral and joined her on the deck. “I didn’t think they’d make it.”
“Shouldn’t we go back and get them?” Mindi said.
Beaux scowled at her. “Look!” he pointed to the horde of zombies streaming from the side of the store. “They’re done for, and we’ll be dead if we go back. Let’s get out of here.”
***
“They see us. Why won’t they come back?” Tears streamed down Joyce’s face.
“Because Beaux’s a worthless punk,” Mason said.
“They’re gonna leave us,” Joyce said, her hands rose to the side of her face to wipe away beads of sweat.
“Don’t worry about them right now. We’ve got bigger problems.” Troy straightened his stance, and pointed to a pack of zombies, marching to an undead rhythm of moans and snarls, heading toward them.
“We can follow,” Mason said, his tone churned like the bayou waters. “That boat. The red one. Everybody pile in.” Mason corralled the bunch to a bass boat in a neighboring slip. He untied it and waited for them to climb aboard, then shoved it away just as the rank odor of the undead penetrated his nostrils. “Adios, motherfuckers.”
Troy fished under the center console. “I found the keys,” he said, and held up a small plastic box. Opening it, he punched the key into the ignition.
“Thank goodness. I was afraid we’d have to paddle our way out of here,” Mason said.
“No fisherman wants to be caught on the water without an extr
a set of keys,” Troy said.
The engine started smoothly, and Troy backed out of the slip with caution. Some of the zombies in pursuit fell off the slip, sinking to the bottom as their bodies filled with water. When the boat was clear and a straight path revealed. He pushed the throttle forward and sped toward the patrol boat.
***
“Fuck, they’re coming after us. I was feeling sorry for them, but now I’m afraid Mason’s pissed we left them. He might kill us! Why can’t this thing go any faster?” Mindi stomped her feet.
“Will you shut up? I’m doing the best I can, dammit. This thing isn’t like my small bass boat. It’s a pain in the ass to navigate. I’m surprised I even got it this far.”
“I’m not going back with them,” Mindi said. “I don’t care what Mason says. We are safer on our own than with those idiots. I bet if you were driving that Humvee, you wouldn’t have wrecked it.”
Beaux flashed the pistol at Mindi, and she smiled. “Trust me, babe, they’ll be turning right around.”
***
“I’m going to ring his neck when I get to him,” Joyce said. “Just like his father,” she muttered, though her voice was lost on the wind as it whipped by her head in the speeding boat.
“You have a plan?” Troy asked, yelling the words to Mason, who stood next to him.
“No, not really. Just going to try to calm him down. I keep forgetting he’s just a stupid kid. I’m hoping he’s just scared because he left us and lets us on board.”
“And if it doesn’t go that way?”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Look! The boat is slowing. They’re stopping for some reason. I know that it’s a pain in the ass to drive until you get out on open waters, and I guess Beaux learned that as well.”
“We’ll see. Cut the engine and approach slowly. You’re going to have to circle them because it’s not like we can put this thing in park. I’m not sure if he dropped the anchor or is fouled up on a stump, he isn’t moving.”
Troy looked over the black bayou waters. “No current at this time. Water is flat as a board. I’ll leave the engine on and idle toward him. I can always reverse it when I need to.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Beaux! Mindi!” Joyce’s shrill voice rang across the water like an obnoxious ocean bird. “It’s Joyce.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Mason murmured.
Troy muffled a chuckle.
Mason saw the two faces staring at them as they approached. He could barely make out their features in the darkness, but their wide eyes gave away the fear they tried so desperately to hide. Just a kid, he reminded himself, though he felt his heart beat faster, and the surge of adrenaline course through his veins.
The crack of gunfire shattered the tranquil bayou night. Everyone in the boat jumped in their seat. Joyce threw herself on the boat’s floor. Mitch removed his pistol and laid it on his lap, covering it with his other hand. Mason saw the pistol in Beaux’s hand as they idled closer.
“That was a warning shot,” Beaux said. “If you still don’t get the message, then I’ll send you to the bottom of the bayou.”
Mason glanced at Troy, who already had his gun out, and pressed to his side. He placed a hand gently on Troy’s arm and shook his head. “Let me try to talk him down. I need you to pilot the boat.”
Joyce remained on the deck, lying in a crumpled heap, and sobbing softly into the dirty boat carpet.
“Beaux, it’s Mason. We’re unarmed, and we just want to talk.”
“Unarmed? Ha! You and I both know that’s horseshit. Come on, Sheriff, don’t treat me like I’m an idiot.”
“Okay, I should have said we are armed, but we have no intention of using our weapons on you kids.”
“We aren’t kids, asshole,” Mindi called, and Beaux shushed her.
“Mindi, you stupid little slut, you stay the fuck out of this!” Joyce stood and pointed an accusing finger.
“Jesus, Joyce, calm down,” Mason said.
Mindi’s mouth dropped open, and her hands dropped to her side. “You of all people have the nerve to call someone a slut, you gold-digging whore!”
Mason worried the two might leap from the boats and engage in a throw down in the middle of the bayou.
“Ladies, please stop. This isn’t helping the situation.” Mason sighed.
“No, it just made our decision easier,” Beaux said. “We’re out of here, Sheriff. I don’t know where we’ll go, but you have a boat now, and you don’t need this one.”
“Beaux, honey,” Joyce choked, “please don’t leave me. You’re the only thing I have left to remind me of your father. You can’t survive out there on your own.”
“She’s right, Beaux. This isn’t like running away from home because you’re mad at your parents. We’re in a dangerous and deadly situation. Our—your—best chance for survival is for us to stick together. You aren’t a kid, Beaux. You’re a man, and a man doesn’t run out on those who need him.”
Beaux slowly lowered his arm, and the gun barrel pointed at the water.
“I . . . I just don’t know anymore.” Beaux sunk back onto the bench near the console.
“It’s okay, son. You got scared and made a stupid decision, but no one got hurt. We’ll take the boat out into the Gulf and go to somewhere safe. Trust me.”
Joyce stood at the edge of the boat, her hands holding a rope, and reaching out as the two vessels came closer. “I’m going to throw you the rope. Try to catch it, you stupid twit.”
“No!” Mindi screamed.
Mason’s eyes went wide.
A flash of orange and red exploded in front of Mindi as she pulled the trigger on the flare gun.
The flare slammed into Joyce’s chest. She screamed, pitching into the dark water amidst a shower of brilliant sparks.
Mindi snatched the pistol out of Beaux’s hands.
“Everyone down!” Mason cried. He hit the deck hard as bullets whizzed overhead, striking parts of the boat.
Mitch covered Rosella with his body.
Troy pulled Skylar to the bottom of the boat.
*
“Beaux, fire up the engine and let’s get out of here!”
Beaux snapped out of the trance he was in and turned his head from the chaotic scene. Throttling forward, the boat sprang to life, leaving a large wake as they sped off.
*
“Holy fucking shit,” Troy said, cautiously raising his head.
“We have to find Joyce,” Mason said, his eyes scanning the water in a frantic search to locate what he hoped wouldn’t be her lifeless corpse.
Rosella pushed Mitch away. “I don’t see her.”
Mitch leaned over the edge of the boat, craning his neck in the search.
Troy pulled out the spotlight and bounced it over the disturbed water, looking for any source of bubbles or a ripple. Finally, he saw her suspended on her back, bobbing on the water like a log.
“I think she’s . . .”
“We have to get her,” Mason said. “She took a flare to the chest, but she might be alive.”
“What about them?” Troy pointed toward the patrol boat.
“Fuck them. They get what they deserve.”
Troy idled the boat over to where Joyce bobbed motionless. Mason reached over the side, his arms stretched to their maximum length as he reached for the injured woman.
His fingertips brushed her arm. He gripped his hand around her wrist and started to pull.
An alligator hit the surface of the bayou as if shot from a missile launcher from the bottom. Mason screamed as the water surged around him, and the reptile’s powerful jaws wrapped around Joyce’s tight body. Troy let out a yell of surprise and rushed over with his gun, shooting wildly at the beast as it thrashed the poor woman on the water’s surface.
Mason lunged forward and grabbed Joyce’s arm, refusing to let go. The pull by the alligator to drag her down was incredible. Judging by the size of the alligator’
s head, he knew there was another ten feet of body and tail below the surface.
Bullets fired into the water proved to be of little deterrent. With the reptile so close to Joyce, there was no way to get a headshot. The alligator paid them no mind as its dull teeth worked into Joyce’s flesh. Her mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and her eyes were wide, staring into nothing. Mason couldn’t tell if she was dead, or hanging on to life. He wouldn’t give her up without a fight.
“Mason, let go,” Troy pleaded, “it’s too late.”
“No! I won’t let her go. Do something, Troy!”
Troy grabbed one of the paddles and beat the alligator on the head. With a mighty slam, the paddle cracked in half. He might as well have been hitting the reptile with a pillow.
Mason still held firmly onto Joyce’s arm. The alligator put an end to the silly tug-of-war that Mason never stood a chance of winning.
The gator went into a primal death roll. The water boiled with bubbles and blood as Mason flew back, still gripping Joyce’s arm. The severed appendage oozed blood. Mason screamed as he threw it back into the water. In an eruption of bubbles, the alligator sank to the bottom of the bayou where it would wait to feed. Joyce’s arm remained on the surface just for a moment before it sank to the muddy floor.
Mason’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, as water and blood dripped from his face. His hands trembled. He felt like crying, or screaming, or both. A large hand gripped his shoulder, and he stared up into Troy’s face.
“I think it’s time to go, brother.”
Mason nodded his head, and rose to his feet, taking a seat in the faux-leather chair next to the console. He stared off into the distance and could see the pilot lights from the stolen patrol boat entering the cut of the Gulf of Mexico.
A loud siren bellowed in the distance as a large skiff rounded the corner, hidden by the tree line. Spotlights focused on the patrol boat. Mason and Troy remained transfixed on what was about to happen.
“Is that a Coast Guard cutter?” Troy asked. “Has to be.”
The amplified voice answered his question.
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