Overboard: Deconstruction Book Four (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Rashad Freeman

  “Whatever asshole! Put me down slowly and bring me right back up!”

  Trevor’s face hit the water then sunk beneath it. It seemed like the waves wanted to pull him under and my grip on his legs started to slip. A mass of bubbles rushed to the surface and Trevor started to kick like he was being electrocuted.

  “Pull him up!” I said.

  With a hefty grunt, Chase yanked Trevor from the water. I’d like to think I helped.

  “They’re fucking everywhere,” he gasped as he wiped water from his eyes.

  “So, what do we do?” Chase asked in panic.

  “I don’t know…we’ve gotta get back,” I replied.

  Trevor stood up and took a deep breath. He looked around the boat then shook his head from side to side. “We’re gonna die out here,” he grumbled.

  “I’m not!” I snapped. “What if we just try to pull it off?”

  “What?” Chase asked.

  “We just…gun the boat and see if it’ll snap the cable.”

  “Have you seen the fucking cable. It’s as thick as my arm. That’s not gonna work.”

  “But Trevor said it was almost loose. Maybe a good tug is all it takes.”

  “And maybe a good tug tightens it.”

  “Well, we’re screwed either way. Those sharks aren’t going anywhere.”

  Trevor looked at me and nodded his head. “Yeah…yeah that might work. Hell, it’s worth a shot.”

  “Fine. Let’s do it,” Chase growled.

  I rushed to the cockpit and put the boat into gear. I started circling back toward the cruise ship allowing the cable to gain slack.

  “What are you doing?” Chase asked.

  “I need room to gain speed. Everybody hang on.”

  I edged the boat back around then opened the throttle up full bore. The life boat groaned and chugged forward at a speed much slower than I’d imagined. The bow slowly rose up into the air then the cable tightened, and a loud gong noise sounded then an ear-splitting crack.

  I was thrown forward just as Chase slammed into the control panel beside me. Trevor stumbled into the cockpit then grabbed my arm and straightened up.

  “It snapped!” he exclaimed as the boat hit the next wave and barreled toward the beach.

  CHAPTER 23

  NOTHING WILL EVER BE THE SAME

  I glanced back toward the island and smiled. We were headed off into the unknown, but we were free. That island had been our prison for so long. We’d lost so much to it and left so much of ourselves behind. But now we were leaving, leaving and never going back.

  The boat hit another wave and we rolled over it then crashed back into the surf. Saltwater sprayed to the sides as we carved through the turbulent water.

  I glanced over my shoulder into the back of the boat. Chloe and Amber were sitting next to each other with Trevor right behind them. Amber smiled at me and I blew her a kiss.

  “You think you can keep that up back home?” Chase asked.

  He was standing beside me, holding onto the grab handle as the boat bounced around. I narrowed my eyes and glared at him before answering.

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “You know…it’ll be different.”

  I huffed and sulked my shoulders a bit. I could see he was being genuine, but I was so used to be him being an asshole that I just assumed everything he said had a hidden agenda.

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too man,” he replied and patted my shoulder.

  I looked back out over the water and swallowed. We’d gone too far to go back. I couldn’t see land in front of me and the island we’d left had vanished long ago. I was starting to think this was the dumbest plan we could’ve made.

  A sliver of the sun could still be seen over the horizon. The light was fading fast, but one thing I’d learned was how bright the moon could be over the open ocean. And lucky for us, it was a full moon.

  “I’m going straight to Fuddruckers as soon as we get back,” Reggie said and rubbed his stomach.

  The thought of tearing through a half pound burger made my mouth water. I closed my eyes for a second and listened to my stomach rumbled like a Harley Davidson.

  “I could kill for a burger,” I said.

  “Me too,” Antonio added. “And like nine pizzas.”

  “What do you think they’re doing back at home anyway?” Reggie asked.

  I shrugged and lowered my head. We were going back home, but there was no home left for us. My parents were dead and the thought of walking into our house and knowing they’d never be there again sent chills down my spine.

  Everyone else was headed back to their lives, headed back to the family and friends that they missed. My life ended on that fucking cruise ship and now I was going back to pick up fragments that I could never piece together.

  I would’ve stayed on that island forever. The people I loved were there and that was all I needed. But by now, the entire island was probably on the bottom of the sea.

  “What are we gonna do?” I asked as Trevor stepped into the cockpit.

  “About what?”

  “Home…what are we going back to? Our family’s gone man.”

  Trevor’s eyes watered and he looked away for a moment then turned back and grabbed my arm. “Your family is right here. We’re gonna get through this.”

  I smiled then the engine suddenly chugged and cut off. The boat coasted for a bit as I switched the ignition knob over and over without success.

  “What’s going on?” Trevor asked.

  “The engine just died.”

  “Fuck!” Chase groaned. “This can’t get worse.”

  The boat was dead in the water. The waves were starting to push us around and crash over the side. We were in the middle of nowhere and there wasn’t another living creature in sight.

  “What are we gonna do?” Sherry asked in a panic.

  I turned the ignition switch again then banged my fists on the control panel. “I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

  “Did you check the gas?” Keyon asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He pointed to a gauge right under the throttle lever. A thin layer of fog had collected under the glass, obscuring the dial. Keyon banged on it a few times then I could see the needle sitting behind the E.

  “Fuck!”

  “Do something!” Sherry screeched.

  “Calm down crazy,” Chase snapped. “Hanson, where’s the radio?”

  Hanson pointed toward the VHF that was bolted to the side of the control panel. He grabbed the handset and started pressing buttons. Static crackled loudly as he twisted the dial like a screw.

  “I found this too,” Trevor said and held up a red bag.

  It was like the other emergency bags we’d found. It had a flare gun and several packs of dry food rations.

  “Here,” Hanson said and offered the handset to Chase. “If someone is out there, they’ll be on this channel.

  “Can anybody hear me? Is anyone out there?” Chase squawked. “Hello? Someone help us!”

  “Dude no one is gonna hear that!” Trevor said as he held up the flare gun. “But this will get someone’s attention.”

  “We might need those later…if we see someone,” I told him.

  “Fine.” Trevor tossed the flare back into the bag and kicked it under the seat.

  “Anyone, somebody!” Chase continued to scream.

  Trevor started to complain again, but I grabbed his arm.

  “Leave it alone,” I said.

  He frowned then sat down onto the nearest bench and threw his hands in the air. Chase barked into the radio for nearly an hour, pleading to the heavens. At some point his voice gave out so he found a spot on the floor and laid down.

  Minutes crawled by as we sat in silence. We had a radio, flares and no fucking luck. And at that point we could’ve really used some luck.

  The water clacked against the side of the boat like a metronome. I closed my eyes, hoping I coul
d sleep my fear away, but I knew that wasn’t happening. Sherry had talked herself crazy and everyone else seemed to be waiting for a miracle.

  Back and forth we rocked, slaves to the mercy of the sea. We’d left the island to die in the water, where we should’ve died in the first place.

  “You hear that?” Keyon suddenly asked as he stood up and stared into the sky.

  “I hear it too,” Amber added.

  The sound was subtle. Like one second I could hear it and the next second it was gone. I waited, straining my ears, trying to decipher the faint noise.

  “Is that a helicopter?” Chase asked.

  As the seconds passed the sound became more distinct. A staccato thumping echoed through the air and then I saw a faint silhouette crawling across the sky.

  “Help! Help!” Chase started to screech into the radio.

  “Help!” Hanson joined in, screaming into the handset like a banshee.

  Trevor jumped up and dove under the seat. He grabbed the bag and pulled out the flare gun. “Now I get to use this thing!” he exclaimed. With a grin stretched across his face, he held the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.

  There was a bright red flash and a trail of smoke climbed toward the sky. Someone had to see it, they had to see us. Everyone was screaming and waving their hands. Desperation had taken over and I think we all knew that if they didn’t stop we were going to die on that boat.

  “Shoot another one!” I yelled.

  Trevor had already loaded the gun. He sent another flare blazing through the sky like a hand reaching out from the depths, begging for a savior. And then it happened.

  “Look!” I cried. “They’re coming!”

  ***The next Chapter is where the first four books in the series start to converge. All the stories now join into one storyline. As each of these are stand alone books you may have been reading them out of order up to this point. To understand the story going forward, it is important that you have read the first four books.***

  CHAPTER 24

  S.O.S

  Randall reached out and grabbed Alistair’s hand. “How you feeling buddy?” he asked.

  Alistair groaned and squinted his eyes. Dried blood was still caked to his fingers and beads of sweat dripped down his pale face. His waist had been wrapped in a white gauze and a torn, bloody t-shirt still hung from his arms.

  “He did good,” Lockship said. “He did real good.”

  “As soon as we grab the supplies from the cutter we’ll head to the airport,” Hunter added. “He’ll have more room to lay down on the plane. All he needs now is some rest and time to heal up.”

  Randall nodded then looked out the window of the helicopter. A blanket of blue covered everything as far as he could see. It was hard to believe they were over land just ten minutes earlier. If there was a coast guard ship down there, it was well hidden.

  Off to the side another helicopter trailed behind them. Randall could hear the blades chopping at the air. He’d started to become accustomed to the sound, even looking forward to it. Suddenly, something flashed from the water below.

  “Did you see that?” Randall asked.

  “What?” Lockship replied.

  Randall’s headset squawked, and Frank’s voice erupted in his ear. “We’ve got flares off the starboard side. Alpha Three can you take a look?”

  “Roger that,” Thomas, the other pilot replied.

  The other helicopter dipped to the left then dropped down. Randall anxiously watched them as they flew closer and closer to the surface of the water. They were supposed to be the security escort, but if Randall had learned anything, it was that you were never secure.

  “What is it?” Melinda asked as she leaned over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know. There’s something down there.”

  “Something?”

  “Yeah, they went to look”

  Alistair cleared his throat then turned his head to face Randall. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Nothing…try not to move,” his mom instructed.

  “Dad what is it?”

  Randall shrugged. “Not sure buddy. They went to find out.”

  “Alpha One, we need you to get down here,” Thomas suddenly announced over the radio.

  “In route. Hang on guys.”

  The helicopter dropped then banked to the left. Randall grabbed hold of his seat and swallowed.

  “I hate this part,” he said to himself.

  “We’re down here! Can anyone hear us?” a desperate voice suddenly crackled over the radio.

  “Help!” another voice shouted as a chorus of cries erupted in the background.

  “Alpha Three, we’ve got chatter on marine channel twenty-one. Are you receiving?”

  “Affirmative Alpha One. There’s a civilian vessel.”

  “Are those people?” Melinda blurted out as she leaned toward the window. “Randall, Randall it’s kids down there.”

  “Command we’ve got a civilian vessel dead in the water. Appears to have nine to ten passengers on board. Please advise,” Frank announced.

  Randall was staring down at the boat. He could see several kids onboard, waving their hands frantically. “How did they get way out here?” he mumbled.

  “Something’s wrong,” Koran said in a grim voice.

  “What?”

  “Command hasn’t responded. Something is wrong.”

  Randall started to reply, but the radio crackled again.

  “…strike…compromised…”

  “A lot of static command, repeat your last. Your broadcast is coming through interrupted,” Frank replied.

  “…under attack!” the voice cried out.

  “Command?”

  “…fucking dead! They’re all fucking dead!”

  The radio fizzled a few more times then the broadcast died. Koran moved toward the cockpit and leaned forward.

  “Frank, what’s going on?”

  “Command?” Frank barked into the radio. “Command come in. Alpha Three are you receiving?”

  “Jesus Frank,” Thomas snapped. “Did you hear them? I think the command center is down.”

  “Command!” Frank called again. “Command come in!”

  The crackling static continued to pop without a sound of human life. Frank looked to the co-pilot with his mouth dangling open, searching for answers he didn’t have.

  “What are we doing?” Koran asked.

  “You’re gonna sit back and let us do our job,” Hunter growled.

  “Fuck you! If you did your job, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “There’s still people down there,” Randall added. “Kids.”

  “Like I said, what are we doing?” Koran asked again. “Frank! “What are we doing?”

  Koran reached forward and grabbed Frank’s shoulder. He had a blank look on his face and his eyes were glossed over.

  “Frank!” Koran shouted.

  Frank blinked then shook his head. “Yeah…yeah, I got it,” he said then wiped his face. Straightening the microphone on his radio, he turned and glanced out of the window. “Thomas…Thomas can you read me.”

  “I’m here Frank.”

  “Alright. Get the wench out and send Davis down to get the kids.”

  “That’s not the mission Frank,” Thomas replied.

  “Fuck the mission. We’re not leaving a boat full of kids down there. Now get Davis in that basket and send him down. We got forty minutes til bingo and we need to move.”

  “We haven’t even found the cutter yet,” Hunter jumped in.

  “We’re not gonna find it,” Frank replied. “We’re going back to command.”

  ~THE END~

  ~Continue the journey with~

  “Survivors: Deconstruction Book Five”

  And

  “Never Tomorrow: Deconstruction Book Six

  Coming April 2018

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  DECONSTRUCTION THE SERIES

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  About the Author

  The date was October 31, 1979. The air was cool, and a light fog blew in from the gulf, cloaking the Tampa area in an ominous, tight-fitting tunic. The annual Halloween festivities had just begun, and a night of mischievous tomfoolery was afoot.

  Scandalous and nefarious characters took flight. Doorbells were rung and ill-boding tricks were played regardless of the treats given. This was the dark reality of the bustling Florida metropolitan.

  To the north, Grateful Dead crooned the night's theme music at the Nassau Coliseum. Within earshot of the concert, witnesses stated a UFO hovered over the grounds for thirty minutes before vanishing.

  At the same time the Cromarty's were busy hosting their notorious Halloween party at 112 Ocean Ave., better known as the Amityville Horror House. Screams and cries for help were reported throughout the night, punctuated with the disappearance of the family next door. They were never heard from again.

  Unknowingly altering the course of history, Kurt Vonnegut released "Jailbird" the same week KISS gained infamy on The Tomorrow Show. The aftermath of this collision would not be felt for decades until the emergence of Justin Bieber.

  After a night filled with mayhem and destruction and the deaths of several prominent entertainers, politicians and a notorious bank robber, the Federal government was forced to loan $1.5 billion dollars to Chrysler. This spurred a series of violent protests, resulting in the Brunah Agate oil spill. Over 10.7 million gallons of oil were dumped into the Galveston Bay. This became the worst oil spill disaster in U.S. history.

  A few hours later, on November 1, 1979, Rashad Freeman was born. Feel free to draw your own conclusions.

  "I'm a writer, I right things."

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