“No, you will call the zombies,” I say.
“We don’t have a choice,” she says. In that moment, despite what she has done to show me she can be calculating when it comes to survival, she said “we.” She cannot imagine just leaving me, and I love her for it. She pushes the gun directly against Tom’s temple and blows his brains onto the floor next to us. He immediately becomes lifeless and she helps me push him off of me.
“I guess we are even,” I say.
“No, I still owe you one,” she says. She grabs me and presses her lips against mine. “Don’t die, okay?” she says. I look at the front and the zombies are making their way towards the building. There are probably forty of them by now.
We run down the hallway Tom had originally pointed us too and find an exit door. We open it and I tell her to wait.
“What, why?”
“We need to use the same trick as upstairs, get them all coming at us so there is more room out there.”
“Okay.”
We wait until the zombies are 15 feet away and go through the door. I close it behind us.
Chapter 8
From House to House
There are no zombies in the alley. In the first stroke of good luck since we made it into the building, the alley is actually completely open. It will take us maybe twenty seconds to get into the other building. Katrina begins to run that way, and I grab her wrist.
“I am not sure about this.”
“We don’t have time for a debate, we do this now.”
“Listen, please. Biscayne Bay is two blocks that way. I can see it from here and the way is clear. We could be there in less than two minutes if we sprint. If we go in this building, maybe we will be safe for a time. But I have been thinking about my conversation with Sarah. She spent the entire first night running from house to house. As the zombies got into one house, they would run to the next. If we go in that building, that will be us. Eventually, the zombies will get in. Eventually, the food will run out. And what happens if when that happens, the way is not clear?”
“What about the guy in the building?”
“That guy is not ‘you,’ and that is who I care about now. We have no idea what is happening in there. We know the way is clear to the Bay. I believe we will be able to find a boat. Sail boats are always just anchored out there. We will have to swim, but I doubt the zombies are able to swim. The water should be safe. A boat gets us out of Florida, and I think Florida is gone.”
“Okay.” She smiles. We sprint towards the Bay. I have only run that fast one other time in my entire life-the day I saved Katrina. As we run by the opening to the building, the zombies begin heading our way. They begin coming out of all the buildings they have breached. They come from the side streets as well. But they amble and will not be able to catch us. We make it to the Bay and I spot the boat we need instantly. It is a green and white sail boat. It even has a little motor on the back for when the wind is not cooperating-if we can find the key, that is.
“That one,” I say pointing. Katrina jumps into the water before me and begins swimming. I turn around and see the entire street covered with zombies. They are still hundreds of feet away, but I do not wait. Holding onto my sword, and it is my sword now, I jump into the water. It is warm. The swim is not long and soon I join Katrina next to the boat. I climb up first and help her in. I look towards land, and the zombies have stopped at water’s edge. A couple fall in every once in a while when the crowd pushes them, but you can tell it is not on purpose. The ones that fall in do not resurface. Apparently I was right. Zombies can’t swim.
We clear the boat quickly. Not surprisingly it is empty. The sail boat will be tricky to operate with two people, especially one who has never done this before. But there is no choice and we should be able to pull it off.
“Do we leave tonight?” asks Katrina. The sun is out on the horizon, but lowering quickly.
“I have never operated a boat at night, but I think yes. I would rather use the onboard motor, but without a key, I am not sure we can.”
“So let’s look.” We do, and not to my surprise, we do not find it.
“Sailing it is.” A plane zooms overhead. Several of them. I am pretty sure they are jets. We sit and wait for bombs to be dropped. Nothing happens, but still I think this a bad sign.
“Are they going to bomb the city?”
“Maybe. Can’t say I blame them if they do, but we definitely want to get out of here before that happens. At the minimum, the entirety of south Florida is probably under a military quarantine. I am a bit worried about that to be honest.”
“You think they may stop us?”
“Yeah, that or worse. It is one of the reasons I want to do this at night. We have a better chance of sneaking through.”
“Yeah.” She hugs me and we kiss again. I begin adjusting the mainsheet and the jibsheet to get this cruise underway. I tell Katrina what to do and she helps. After a bit, we slowly begin to sail away from Brickell Avenue.
I look back at the Remington Flagler building. I think about Remington and wonder if he is still alive. I think about Miami. A city so full of life and color, truly an American icon. For all purposes, it is gone. Even if they took it back, it will never be the same. I think about Danny and Sarah, and Anne and Tom, and the guy across the street. All dead or headed that way. I wonder if that lady whose head I smashed in the arena was a lady or a zombie, and I wonder if it even matters anymore.
I think about how going to the building across the street would have been going “from house to house,” with no real chance for safety. I think the boat avoids that problem, but I am not sure. Is anywhere really “safe” now? Can the military really hold the James’ Strain in check? If we make it out of Florida, will the rest of the world still be okay? Was the lack of news a blackout or had the zombie horde already won?
And I wonder if us leaving Miami is the thing that spreads this version of the zombie horde. I don’t really know if we are infected. I have to admit to myself that I am willing to take that risk. For Katrina, sure, but also for myself. People have always had survival instincts, but with the rise of our comfortable way of life, those instincts became less important. In my world, those instincts are what separate the living from the dead.
I started by telling you this was not another one of those zombie stories were nobody had ever heard of the word “zombie.” That much is true. My story is different because of that, but as we sail in the darkness, I try to think of a zombie story that has a happy ending. I have seen them all. I can’t think of even one.
END
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Dead Sector: Miami: The James' Strain Page 5