Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles - Vol. 2

by Damon Novak

  “Learned that from you,” she said, swatting at him.

  “Well, I’m glad to see the walkin’ dead haven’t dampened your senses of humor,” I said. “I want to pull anchor in ten. No sense in sittin’ around when we can be underway.”

  “Should we keep the television on that station?” asked Lilly. “Don’t know how we picked up the broadcast, but if it was Rode, we need to monitor it.”

  “True enough,” I said. “There’s a marine VHF radio in the wheelhouse, too. We’ll see what that thing picks up, plus, we still have Pa’s ham radio too.”

  “Terry?” said Georgie.

  He looked at her. “Yeah, Mrs. Lake?”

  “It’s Doctor Lake, but you know that,” she said. “Which is why I need to give you a once-over.”

  “Once over what?” he asked.

  “Mom wants to make sure you haven’t been bitten or scratched. And don’t bother arguing. Claims to the contrary will not suffice.”

  I left before I saw the outcome, but I knew Georgie pretty well by then.

  Terry would comply.

  Ω

  CHAPTER TWO

  We set a north-northeasterly course, and while I was a boater, I wasn’t this kind of boater. This was bigger’n any boat I’d ever driven before.

  Maybe I already told you that. Either way. I was nervous.

  The depth gauge was easy enough to figure out, and there were channel markers in the waters just off the Florida Keys, but readin’ nautical maps and just whippin’ around the Florida Everglades are two different things.

  It was 8:15 in the morning by the time we scooted out of there. I thought about the owners of the boat, wonderin’ if they’d been on their way to use it as their own escape, but I didn’t dwell on it; there were plenty of other options at that marina, if they made it that far.

  By the time we left, the two fires had burned together, creating one giant burn. As we headed out toward deeper water, we kept bumpin’ into debris in the water. I had Lilly take the wheel while I went down to have a closer look.

  It turns out it was human debris. Many of ‘em still squirmin’ around in the water. One man’s body was bloated to probably four times its girth; he clawed at the water and screeched at us. The bloat had formed in such a way that he was destined to float on his back until somethin’ changed in either his position or his buoyancy. Our hull bumped him easily out of the way, and he began his angular trip along the v-shaped wake, to the rear of the Sea Ray.

  Other bodies, both men and women, dressed and nude, floated in the water, too. Some of ‘em clawed at the foamy wake as they floated by, and even when I didn’t see any body parts movin’, I figured most of ‘em were zombies. What that meant to me is they’d eventually wash ashore and use whatever mobility they had left to get to food.

  Shellers beware.

  I ran back up the steps to update my sis and take over at the wheel.

  She turned green at the news of what we were plowin’ through, and we were both relieved when we got into deeper water where currents had taken the zombies out to sea.

  “It’s getting rough,” said Lilly.

  “Yeah, I know. I had some dumb idea I’d be doin’ about 25 miles an hour up, but with this shit, I can barely manage 20. If everything goes perfect, we’re talkin’ five plus hours to get up to Naples.”

  “We need to stop there?”

  I guided the boat to the west to head directly into a growing swell. “Shit.”

  “Water doesn’t do this in the Glades,” said Lilly. “You okay?”

  “I’ll manage,” I said. “It’s a big enough boat. Good stabilizers.”

  We heard footsteps, and the smell of coffee hit me before I saw the top of Georgie’s head.

  “I smell that!” I said.

  “You’ve had three cups already. This is for Lilly.”

  “Too late, I saw you had two cups before I turned around.”

  To my great surprise and disappointment, she sat down in the bench seat behind us and said, “It’s for me.”

  I waited for the punchline that never came. Then I shrugged like I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “I like her,” said Lilly.

  “I used to,” I said.

  Georgie got up and put the coffee cup in my cup holder. “How long until we hit land again?”

  I picked up the cup and took a sip. “It’s around a hundred miles. With this chop, we’re lookin’ at five, six hours.”

  “Terry’s already seasick,” said Georgie. “I checked the boat for Bonine or Dramamine, but nothing.”

  “Poor kid,” said Lilly. “Nothing worse. At least while you’re sick.”

  “There are worse things, as we all know,” said Georgie. “Thankfully, not out here.”

  Her previously wet hair was now dry and shiny. I guess there was a blow dryer in the head. Anyway, she had it pulled up and tied, and she looked fresh as a daisy.

  “We’ll need to get together and talk strategy before we hit land,” I said. “We’re still runnin’ a democracy here.”

  “Look,” said Georgie. “You went against your sister’s wishes to save Roxy and her friend. I appreciate that, and –”

  “Wait a minute,” said Lilly. “I never said I didn’t want to go to Key West. I just … well, I didn’t know you very well then, and I was afraid I’d either die or lose my only living brother to help a stranger.”

  Georgie nodded. “I understand that. You could’ve argued against it, and I saw in your eyes you wanted to. So, thank you, too.”

  Lilly was in the co-pilot’s chair to the left of the captain’s chair I sat in. She got up and went to sit on the seat in the back of the bridge cabin. I turned to see her take Georgie’s hand.

  “I do feel like I know you now. I suppose that process accelerates during a crisis. Thank you for saving CB. From what I know, he might’ve died without your help.”

  “We basically saved one another,” said Georgie, leaning forward and hugging Lilly.

  Almost everything seemed okay in our little corner of the world. At least the zombies were at bay.

  For now.

  Ω

  There were different bands on the radio, and I don’t know what he was doin’ or what kind of equipment he had, but as I drove the boat and Lilly sat in the co-pilot’s seat, her feet up on the helm, she hit a station and we heard our old friend, Micky Rode’s voice.

  “… if you’re heading out to find us, know we’re just now in Benton, Illinois. I know that’s not far from our last stop but let me tell you; over-the-road travel isn’t easy now. The changed people are everywhere now, and if you’re following these broadcasts and attempting to connect with us, stay off highways running through heavily populated areas.”

  “Lilly, call everyone up. I want them to hear this guy. They need to know who we’re followin’.”

  “You got it,” said Lilly, getting up and trottin’ down the steps. Less than a minute later, Georgie, Terry and Roxy sat on the curved, bench seat in the back of the bridge, all listening intently. Nokosi lay at their feet, her head up and her tongue floppin’ out as she panted.

  “I have some new news,” Rode continued. “First, and I’d guess most disturbing, is that it’s not just people this happened to. From what we’ve seen, it killed most of the dogs and cats. Maybe other wildlife. We’ve run across several dead deer and some dead opossums and racoons.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Georgie. “I wonder how Nokosi survived it.”

  Micky Rode went on: “I’ve seen a couple of live dogs, but few. Maybe they were out of the black rain when it hit, which could mean there are a lot of people and animals in their homes now, safe.”

  “That’s a good point,” said Roxy. “We were inside the Hemingway house when the black rain hit. Terry and I had broken away from our tour group –”

  “That was my idea,” said Terry. “I don’t like structure.”

  “Hold on, y’all,” I said. “Pick that story up when this guy goes o
ff the air. I want you to know who we’re followin’, and why.”

  I saw Georgina pat her daughter’s leg to reassure her I wasn’t an asshole, I guess. She was basically sayin’, ‘He’s right. Shut up for a sec.’

  “In every population center, you’ll find more of the dead people, and I’ve noticed they tend to migrate toward one another. I guess it’s the movement of the others that draws them toward one another, and once they discover – if that’s how it even works – the other isn’t a food source, they just move along together.”

  I turned and everyone on the bridge was noddin’ along with Rode’s assertions. So far, he hadn’t said anything that I didn’t also believe to be true.

  “If any of you have been out on the streets, you know what these things are after. They want you, and they will attack you and tear you apart, like hyenas or jackals would.

  “If you’re housebound for any reason, and you haven’t left your home in a long while, just know you won’t be getting that Amazon.com package or that delivery from Blue Apron anytime soon. I recommend finding a friend who’s not sick and getting in your car to join us in Lebanon, Kansas. I’ll go over what I’ve shared before, because if you’ve just picked up this broadcast and you don’t know anything, I’d recommend taking a good long look outside your window.”

  At that point, Rode recounted the video from Climbing Fox Wattana of the Henomawi Tribe. He also shared his thoughts on the faked suicide of the Indian shaman.

  “So, that’s it,” he continued. “When you hit the road, I’d strongly recommend you avoid the main population centers. The GPS put us through St. Louis, but we’re taking detours around it. You do the same when you hit a bit city, or even a larger town.

  “If everything goes well, we should be in Lebanon in roughly six or seven hours. I’ll try to set up and broadcast once we’re there. Meanwhile, I hope you all have angels on your shoulders. Godspeed and good luck to you all. Micky Rode, signing off.”

  The radio went dead. “Keep it on that channel,” I said. “I wasn’t sure we’d find him again.”

  Everyone was quiet. I just stared out at the water, tryin’ to gauge the oncomin’ swells and keep the boat headin’ into the bigger ones.

  “I didn’t really want to believe it,” said Terry, his voice just barely audible over the sound of the Sea Ray’s engine and the splashin’ of the wake on our bow. “I saw what was happening to everyone, but I believed it was just some sickness that the government would get under control.”

  “You saved our lives,” said Roxy. “If you hadn’t pulled me away from that tour of the grounds, we’d have been out in that rain. You’re the only reason we were inside the house.”

  Terry turned and hugged Roxy, and both of ‘em started to cry. Georgie rubbed their backs and did what she could to comfort the pair.

  “Anyway,” I began. “I’m real glad you two are safe. You know what we’re doin’ now and why we’re doin’ it. I don’t know if it’s the best idea, but we now know this mess is all over the country, and nobody seems to have a handle on how to stop it. I figure there’s safety in numbers.”

  “And what do we do when we get to Lebanon, Kansas?” asked Roxy, breaking from the embrace and wipin’ her eyes.

  I shrugged as I turned the yacht into an oncomin’ swell. The bow lifted up and splashed down again, and once more, I corrected our course.

  I said, “All we can do is play everything by ear. React as situations present themselves, just like we’ve done up until now. I’m wide open for input and ideas from any one of y’all.”

  “Where’s our first stop?” asked Georgie. “Still shooting for Naples?”

  “There are marinas there where we may be able to fuel up,” I said. “If we can get the pumps workin’.” I looked down at the GPS. We still had sixty miles to go to reach Naples, Florida.

  “That’s a lot of guns down there,” said Terry, out of the blue. “I’ve never shot a gun.”

  I figured it struck him to mention the guns and his lack of experience when I mentioned hittin’ land. I said, “Then a shotgun might be your best choice. Scatter shot, but deadly if you use the right gauge. Maybe I’ll train you on the DP-12.”

  “How?”

  “I know,” I said. “I thought of that, believe me. We can’t shoot at anything on the boat, and shootin’ out at the open water’s just a waste of ammo. We’ll figure somethin’ out. Roxy, you ever handle a gun?”

  “She has,” said Georgie. “Her father and I used to take her to the range. She’s been shooting since she was around ten years old.”

  Terry turned toward her. “You never told me you were Annie Oakley!”

  “Didn’t want you to think I was a redneck, I guess,” said Roxy. “I actually love shooting.”

  “I know your heart by now,” said Terry. “Plus, most rednecks I’ve met love me. I’ve always thought they were mostly latent homosexuals.”

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I like you fine, but I’m a dedicated breeder.”

  Georgie laughed, Lilly cringed, and Terry got up and came up behind me, wrappin’ his arms around my neck from behind. Next thing I knew, I felt his lips on my cheek and he gave me a little smack.

  “I saw how you look at Dr. Lake.” He turned to look at Georgie. “Don’t’ worry, Georgina. I won’t steal him from you.”

  My face must’ve turned 18 shades of red. I shook my head and had to laugh with the others.

  Lilly laughed hardest of ‘em all. I was glad to see it. I knew she, like I, was hurtin’ inside from the loss of our family. Distractions were rare and good for both of us.

  Ω

  We came across the boat, clearly adrift, about three hours into our trip. The second I saw it, I wished everyone else was asleep. Unfortunately, they all still sat behind me, quietly watchin’ the open water ahead, all lost in their own thoughts.

  I thought about distractin’ everyone by pointin’ out the gatherin’ storm clouds again, but we’d already talked about the thunderheads buildin’ over the Atlantic, bein’ pushed west by the same winds that were kickin’ up the chop we were cuttin’ through.

  Plus, it’s an unspoken rule of boating; if someone is in distress, you come to their aid. You do that either by helpin’ directly, or contactin’ the U.S. Coast Guard to assist.

  I was pretty sure the Coast Guard wasn’t an option, so it came down to us.

  Like I mentioned, the weather had taken a turn, and the wind was out of the east, startin’ to blow real good.

  The heavy chop was keepin’ me down to about 17 miles per hour, and I’m well aware a more experienced open water boater could’ve handled it without any issues.

  Like I said, I’m an airboat swamp guy. This shit was outta my league.

  “Guys, we have a boat off the port side. Cabin cruiser, looks like.”

  Lilly grabbed a pair of binoculars went to the port side window and slid the curtains open along the brass rods. “Looks buttoned up.”

  “No power,” I said. “They’re not movin’ anyway, far as I can tell.”

  “They may need medical attention,” said Georgie. “Or … they’re those things.”

  “If we’re lucky, someone already rescued them,” said Lilly. “Or they had a smaller skiff. But CB’s right. We have to check.”

  That’s why I fuckin’ hate it when I’m right. Most of the time. The wind was pickin’ up, and I was gettin’ less and less comfortable by the minute. I wouldn’t say anything, because I know ignorance is bliss, and we all had enough to worry about.

  I checked for oncomin’ swells and guided the boat over the chop, doing my best to go in my intended direction. The cabin cruiser was about seventy yards northwest of us, and I pushed the throttle forward to overcome the wind and just get it over with.

  What should’ve been achieved in under a minute or two took nearly ten, joggin’ left and right to keep us from gettin’ thrown sideways. By the time we reached it, I saw it was a Bayliner. Sure enough, like Lilly had said, it looked
to have at least the side windows covered. That made me wonder whether it had just come loose from its moorings.

  To be honest, I sure as hell hoped so.

  The boat was now dead ahead, about fifteen yards off our bow. Lilly moved forward and raised the binoculars again. “Oh, shit,” she said.

  “Oh, shit, it’s sinking? Or oh, shit, it’s full of zombies?”

  Lilly lowered the glasses and looked at me. “What qualifies as full?”

  “More than one,” I mumbled. “Are you serious?”

  “There’s one that I see. A woman.” She handed over the binoculars. “On the stern. Looks like she’s on her knees.”

  I raised the glasses and tried to keep them steady. It wasn’t easy with both boats risin’ and fallin’ with the ocean. Sure enough, I found her. She’d crawl forward, reachin’ toward the cabin door. Then when a swell came, she’d tumble backward and slam into the inside rail again.

  We’d drawn a little closer now, and Terry, Georgina and her daughter were all standing at the window now, lookin’ out.

  “There has to be someone trapped in there,” said Terry, swiping his long bangs away from his eyes. The rest of his hair looked like it was probably spiked or somethin’, but he clearly didn’t have any gel. “Maybe if you blow your horn, whoever’s inside will hear.”

  “Damned good idea, Terry,” I said, as I scanned the helm of the boat. My eyes fell on a small button marked HORN. I pressed my palm against it. The sound was like someone blowin’ a New Year’s Eve noisemaker under a blanket.

  I shook my head. “Why do they put the worst goddamned horns in the best boats?” I asked.

  “Because nobody beeps the horns at boat shows,” said Lilly. “They’re figuring out how much booze the coolers will hold.”

  “Good point,” I said.

  “Do you have one of those boat horns?” asked Terry. “The cans? I know most boats have them in case they lose all their power.”

  I looked at him. “You have some depth of knowledge we don’t know about?”

  “My dad used to race sailboats. I’ve been part of his crew on a number of occasions, but mostly I just do what they tell me to.”