by Damon Novak
“No idea,” I said. “I’ll have Georgie the Calculator Queen figure it out and get back to you. For now, I’ll let you know if we need to fill up.”
Ω
We’d been underway about three hours when I spotted it. From the map on my GPS, it looked like we were just off Venice Beach.
At first I didn’t know what I was seein’. The first thing that came to mind was iceberg, but that wasn’t possible.
Georgina saw what caught my eye and picked up the binoculars, raising them to her eyes.
“I have 15/15 vision,” said Terry, standing beside her. “That’s a sunken cruise ship.”
“Looks like it ran aground,” said Georgie. “It’s down on its starboard side. The funnel’s almost in the water.”
“Boating in southwest Florida’s dangerous, the bigger the boat,” I said. “Wonder what happened. All captains know how to navigate here.”
“Not if the captain changed into one of those … those monsters,” said Roxy.
“My mom wasn’t a monster,” came Liam’s voice from behind all of us. We hadn’t seen him come in, and I never heard his feet on the steps leadin’ up to the fly bridge.
“Don’t mean any slight on your mama, Liam,” I said. “You know how Frankenstein’s monster wasn’t really all that mean? Just scary lookin’?”
Liam walked over and stared out through the window. “I guess. I think he’s scary.”
“Well, most people do, which is why everyone turned on him.”
“So, my mom was like Frankenstein?”
I shook my head. “No, man. This is a little different. These things – like what your mom turned into when she got sick – they’re brains aren’t normal anymore, and they think they want to attack people who aren’t sick, like them. What I’m sayin’ is, it’s not their fault.”
“Liam, what Cole’s trying to say is it’s instinct, not hatred or any malice.”
“Malice?”
“Ill-will.”
“Huh?”
“They don’t mean to harm us,” she tried to clarify. “They’re essentially out of their minds and aren’t responsible for their actions anymore. Your mother and all these others can’t help themselves. They’re sick.”
I thought that was as good an explanation as any. I hoped the kid got it. He settled onto the couch behind me, looking lost in whatever thoughts swirled around in his head. I told myself I’d have a long talk with him later.
We moved closer, and I saw Danny angle to the northwest more to put more distance between us and the ship resting on the sandy bottom.
It was still a ways ahead, but it loomed larger on the horizon as we approached. My eyes went right to my depth gauge, just to be sure. I was only in fifteen feet of water, which wasn’t deep enough for my comfort. I knew that could turn into eight, then six, then we’d be scrapin’ propeller against coral and sand.
My radio burst to life. “CB! You on?”
It was Danny. I grabbed it and pushed the button. “Yeah, man. See that shit?”
“Cole,” said Georgina. “Liam. You mind?”
I wasn’t used to watchin’ my language when I was off work, but I figured she was right. No sense in corruptin’ the kid. “Sorry,” I said.
Danny came on again. “Current’s really pullin’ out here. Swirling pretty good.”
“That normal?” I asked.
“Further on out in the Gulf, yeah,” he said, his motor vibratin’ in the background. “Not this close to shore. It’s tryin’ to pull me toward shore.”
“How’s your fuel?” I asked. “Can we head farther out, try to get around it?”
“No way. I wouldn’t make it back. I was ready to head in.”
“I could tow you back, right?”
“Not with this current. It’s … shit!”
I would’ve asked what interrupted his thought, but I could see it with my own eyes. I was about a hundred yards back from the Sportsman.
It started teeterin’ from side to side, even as it continued its forward motion. I pushed the throttle forward.
“Danny! Danny!” I called into the radio. Nothin’ came back, and I could see him strugglin’ with the steerin’ wheel. Lilly was on her feet, holdin’ onto the rail, tryin’ to grab something out of our view.
Georgie, Liam, Roxy, and Terry ran up to stand beside me, everyone watchin’ what was happenin’.
I was gainin’ on ‘em now, fast, closin’ the distance. Now the Sportsman was turnin’, it’s stern swingin’ to the west, the bow now pointed right toward shore. It kept goin’, the rotation now with the boat headin’ right toward me.
“Holy shit!” I shouted, no longer worryin’ about Liam or his delicate sensibilities. I cranked the wheel hard right to get out of Danny and Lilly’s path, and saw my depth drop quickly down to 9-1/2 feet.
“What’s happening?” called Roxy, her voice two octaves higher.
Suddenly our boat hit somethin’. I didn’t see it at first, but just then I saw the Sportsman ahead of us now listed port, then starboard, almost tiltin’ to the rails on both sides.
My radio burst to life again. “Bodies! There’s bodies everywhere! Under us!”
I stared at the radio in my hand. The Sportsman looked like it was high-centered on a sand bar, the bow movin’ from side-to-side, but not goin’ anywhere.
We were close enough now; I saw hands reachin’ from the water tryin’ to grab hold of the rails and the rear swim step.
We were plowin’ through, but whatever had affected that smaller boat was doin’ its level best to put us in the same position. I jammed that throttle to full ahead and felt the propellers shudder and strain.
“Look over the edge!” I shouted to anyone who’d listen. “See what it is!”
I jerked my head around to make sure somebody was doin’ what I asked, and saw Liam pressed up against Roxy on the bench seat, cryin’ his heart out. She held him tight as Georgie and Terry charged out to the rails.
By the time I saw ‘em leave, I didn’t need any more confirmation. There were bodies all around the Sea Ray, churnin’ in the swirlin’ current that pulled us this way and that.
“Roxy, come here and take this wheel! Just keep it goin’ straight as you can, but whatever you do, don’t hit their boat!”
“I can’t drive this boat!” she shouted.
“Just steer!” I shouted, grabbin’ the DP-12 from the floor beside the seat. “Liam! Go down into the main cabin and close the door!”
I was up, Liam in front of me. I guided him down the stairs. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll be alright!”
I only wish I believed it.
Gunshots sounded as I ran down the steps. I hurried to the rear, feelin’ the boat lurchin’ over the dozens of bodies that clustered on every side of the Sea Ray, arms reachin’ and heads, legs, and feet breakin’ through the water before disappearin’ again beneath the churnin’ surf.
As I reached the stern, the motors beneath me rumbled and strained, and I prayed nothin’ got caught in the props and locked ‘em up.
As I reached the back rail, I saw two figures had managed to climb onto the huge, flat step in the rear. I lowered the barrel of the DP-12 and fired. The head of a rotted man in a purple-flowered Hawaiian print shirt exploded in a burst of black-green blood. Because of the wind blowin’ in my face, I didn’t smell it. His headless body rolled onto its back, then into the water.
The other was a woman, and she’d managed to crawl to the rail and had pulled herself halfway to her feet.
Just as I raised the shotgun again, the boat lurched to the left and I found myself goin’ over. I reached for the rail as I held the gun, but my feet went out from under me.
We must’ve been runnin’ over body after body. I fought the up, down, side-to-side motion as I tried to right myself, but when I looked up again, that dead bitch was right over me.
I turned my head and got my eyes on the gun. Swingin’ the barrel back in a fast arc left, I got it into position just as he
r head came down, mouth open.
My barrels went right down her goddamned throat, and I thrust it forward and fired, sendin’ her brains out through the back of her skull, and her entire body flyin’ backward, into the foamy water behind us.
I scrambled to my feet and got back to see one more, the arm clutchin’ at the slots on the step. I fired again, severin’ it at the elbow. I was spared seein’ the rest of the zombie, and it disappeared into the Gulf waters.
“Georgie, Terry!” I screamed as I charged back up to the flybridge. “Get in the cabin with Liam!”
“Where’s Roxy!” shouted Georgie.
“Drivin’ the damned boat!” I yelled.
They both dodged past me. As I reached the helm, Roxy jumped up and gave me the chair. “They’re going to sink!” she cried.
“Not if I can fuckin’ help it! Get downstairs!”
The Sportsman was only forty yards or so away now, but it no longer had any forward momentum. It looked like a boat caught in a hurricane, moved not by the water or wind, but by what could be hundreds of dead-but-not-dead bodies all clamorin’ to get aboard.
Danny and Lilly both stood by the center console, holdin’ the bimini support as they fired round after round into the water.
They wouldn’t last much longer. I made a decision. I slapped my hand on the button marked HORN again and again, as I once more pushed the throttle full forward. I’d backed it off before givin’ over control to Georgie’s daughter.
My plan was dangerous. I’d have to hit the Sportsman just right to keep from sinkin’ us both.
Ω
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was close enough now to see the entire cluster of driftin’ bodies, the heads, torsos, arms, and legs breakin’ the surface of the water. The bright colors of their vacation clothes made it look like a churnin’ rainbow of garbage as they surfaced and sank again, only to come up somewhere nearby.
Like Danny had said, they were clearly caught in a circular eddycurrent of some kind, ‘cause I could almost spot the path of their progress through the turquoise water. I used this as my gauge. If I could get my boat in the middle of it, with my thrusters, I should be able to push sideways right up against the Sportsman.
I grabbed the radio and mashed the button. “Hold on! Keep shootin’!”
I didn’t know if they heard me or not; whether the damned radio had gotten wet and no longer worked, but his motor was dead now, and if it was quiet enough, he’d hear me.
To my relief, I saw Danny wave at me between fired rounds. Then he threw a thumb up in the air.
I had my permission.
I cranked the wheel side to side, tryin’ to use the big hull to split the bodies. Just as I got pretty far into the middle of the swirlin’ current, I saw the Sportsman tilt 45 degrees to the port side.
My fuckin’ heart nearly stopped when I saw Lilly teeter on one leg and just catch the bimini mount with her outstretched hand. Centrifugal force caused her to swing hard left, her body strikin’ the steerin’ wheel and Danny, who’d seen her lose her balance.
He caught her with one arm, steadyin’ her. I swore they briefly embraced right then. If I’d have blinked, I’d have missed it.
I know why. They both thought they were gonna die. It was on my mind, too.
I had to hurry. With Danny’s boat squarely off my port side, I hit the thruster switch and pushed both joysticks at once, hard to port.
The diesels strained right then; I knew my worst fear had happened. Some rotter’s clothing got twisted onto the props, and I prayed what I knew was comin’, wouldn’t.
Either my prayers were too late, or they weren’t good enough. Next thing I knew, the motor cut out completely.
Now I’d have to rely solely on the thrusters to keep us movin’. I heard the electric motors hummin’, and I hoped to God there’d be enough force behind ‘em to get me where I needed to be.
We were definitely gettin’ closer – it was workin’. My hand was sore from pushin’ those joysticks, but no amount of pressure would make us go any faster. I honked that horn again and again, and finally saw Danny point at us and slap Lilly on the arm.
The boat had settled to mostly level again, and Danny and Lilly let go of the bimini mount and shuffled over to kneel down on the bench seat on the starboard side. They were ready, but both had to keep firin’ down at the zombies tryin’ to crawl over the rail and get inside the boat to their fresh meat.
Suddenly an eastern swell rose up in the water, pushin’ me faster than I intended. Now we were fifteen feet apart, then ten feet, and the five-foot gap closed with a jarring thump as we banged into the smaller Sportsman. I couldn’t see shit from where I was; the boat was so close the much taller Sea Ray blocked my view of everything but the fishin’ rods stickin’ up outta the holders and the small bimini over the center console.
We were slammin’ broadsides now, which caused both boats to teeter-totter from port to starboard and back again, over, and over. Each time we tilted to port, the Sportsman and all the zombies briefly came into view.
From the flybridge, I could look down and see a dozen bodies smashed between the two boats as we bounced off one another. I realized Danny’s boat was once again sittin’ on a goddamned floatin’ island of bodies, and there I was, pushin’ the whole kit-n-kaboodle to the west.
I slammed my feet on the floor and yelled, “Somebody get on the port rail, now!”
I stomped over and over, hopin’ they’d get my urgency in the cabin below. I heard the cabin door slam, and I knew they had.
“Help them!” I yelled, still mashin’ the thrusters.
I couldn’t see anything now. Everything was behind me, all the action closer to the stern than the bow.
I heard a thud from somewhere behind me, and a few seconds later, Roxy ran up the steps.
“Lilly’s aboard!”
I felt my heart settle, but only a little. “What about Danny!” I shouted.
She was already gone again. Good. I didn’t need updates at the cost of my best friend.
I couldn’t let go of the thrusters. If he was almost in and the boat drifted off, he could fall into the water and get torn to pieces by the waterlogged deadheads.
I heard a familiar voice cry, “Danny!” and I knew it was Lilly, despite the pitch and terror contained in that single word.
Fuck it. I let go of the thrusters and charged down the steps to the deck. Just as I reached it, Danny, soakin’ wet and chest heavin’, landed on his back on the deck, his gun still clutched in his hand.
“You okay?” I called, seein’ more of the dead people tryin’ to climb onto the swim step.
He only had the wherewithal to nod quickly. I ran to the swim step and pulled out my .45, firin’ two bullets into the backs of the heads of the crawlers. They were face-down as they tried to mount the Sea Ray, and I was glad; I didn’t need to see ‘em. Their blood and black brains spattered over the swim step, and I watched ‘em slide back into the water, waitin’ for more to surface.
There were plenty behind us, but none were close enough to grip the step now. I turned and ran back up to the flybridge, throwin’ the transmission into neutral. I turned the key and fired the engine again. It caught.
If I went forward, whatever was caught in the props would wind tighter. Instead, I threw it into full reverse.
The engines moaned at first, but after about four deep reverberations, the boat lurched backward as whatever had been wrapped around the propellers cleared, freein’ them again.
This time I turned the wheel to the east and gave it a little throttle. I heard shots bein’ fired from behind me, and I was glad. More deaders must’ve climbed on, and my crew was doin’ its part. Now I just had to get us out of there.
The motors immediately did a goddamned repeat of what they’d done earlier. No doubt wound up with clothing, hair, arms, legs, whatever, it had grabbed as it spun.
Thrusters. They were my only hope. I pulled the throttle into neutral again and hit th
e thrusters over to port again. This time I just let ‘em run.
The Sportsman had drifted off now, and I was clear to the west, aside from the thrashin’ bodies all around us. I felt the boat pushin’ foot by foot, and I kept those joysticks full to port until Danny came ploddin’ up the stairs.
“You got it, man,” he said, hardly able to breathe. “Just water now. We’re out of that current.”
“Props are wound up again with God knows what. You okay? You and Lilly hurt?”
“None of them got us, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “You try reverse?”
“I did before. Make sure everyone’s holdin’ on.”
He moved slowly toward the steps, and I could see his whole body shakin’. My heart was still poundin’ in my ears.
I fired the motors again, and when I saw both RPM meters peg, I said a prayer of thanks. I pulled the throttle toward me, hittin’ reverse again.
The deep rumble came, and whitewater surged on our port and starboard rails around our stern. After a few seconds, and several stops and starts, it unwound whatever was caught. The minute we gained speed, I pushed it forward again and turned west, trimmin’ down as the big boat got up on plane and leveled out.
Danny trotted back up the steps. “Looking good, brother.”
I smiled at him. “I feel better.”
“How are you doing on fuel?”
My eyes dropped to the gauge. “Still over half a tank. I’m good for another 180 miles or so. Where will that get us to?”
“We’re about 30 miles north of that cruise ship, and that was at Venice Beach. CB, man, check your goddamned GPS. Don’t you know how to use that thing?”
I smiled at him and shook my head. “The one in my car, yeah. This thing’s got too much bullshit on it.”
Danny got up and knelt down beside my chair. He punched the screen a few times and a clean map appeared.
“There we are,” he said. “That’s Amelia Island there. That point.”
“Nice name,” I said. “So, what’ll 180 miles get us?”