Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles - Vol. 2

by Damon Novak

  “They’ll do what they can to save her,” I breathed, still tryin’ to catch my wind. “Once we do that, we’re droppin’ you two off.”

  “I can’t take care of her like that!” he protested. “Her leg’s bit off!”

  “You’re the idiot who had to bring a zombie gator aboard your boat,” I said. “Now shut the fuck up.”

  His eyes were glued on his crazy girlfriend as he panted and huffed, tryin’ to catch his breath from the ordeal.

  In the back of my mind, and deep in my heart, I hoped she’d die. I mighta only been in her company for a little while, but I knew who she was. There’s plenty enough bad juju out there without sadistic bitches like her runnin’ around, addin’ to the fear.

  Yep. In my humble opinion, we had us enough trouble to face without worryin’ about a post-apocalyptic Bonnie and Clyde.

  Ω

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After we’d plucked Garland from the water, I searched him before he’d fully recovered. Findin’ a knife and a 9mm on him, I was relieved I’d thought of it. I tossed the Taurus over the side of the boat and pocketed the knife, sheath and all. We had plenty of guns, and every one of ‘em was way better than what dickwad had picked out.

  The waterproof cushions on the deck furniture were highly resistant to anything soakin’ into ‘em, and that included blood. Georgie told Roxy and Terry to lay ‘em out on the dinin’ table in the salon, and while her partner was still squirmin’ on the deck sputterin’ out water like a boilin’ kettle, we carried Billie Jo’s limp body inside and rested her on ‘em.

  The recessed lighting in there was good, and Georgie said it would do fine.

  Despite me sayin’ I didn’t give a shit if he was hurt or not, our resident doctor insisted on givin’ him a quick once-over before turnin’ her attention to Billie Jo. Aside from some badly bitten nails and some nasty teeth, Garland was uninjured, and the examination only lasted five minutes or so.

  The girl was a different story. Once Dr. Lake turned her attention fully on Billie Jo, her demeanor changed. I could tell she’d turned fully to surgeon mode.

  “I don’t need to operate,” she said. “The hard work of amputating the leg was done by that alligator.”

  “Danny!” I called, standin’ over Garland. He came runnin’ over from somewhere.

  “You got zip ties, right? You pulled out a pack you got from somewhere right after we left Fort Walton Beach.”

  “Yeah. They’re for him, right?” he said, noddin’ toward Garland.

  “Yeah. Not lettin’ him run free, that’s for sure.”

  “Y’all can’t keep me in chains the whole time!” he protested, his voice whiny and nasally. “You’re the goddamned violent ones! You clocked me in that dang gun shop!”

  “Blame your goddamned woman for that,” I said. “Or yourself. You never tried to settle her down. It’s obvious she’s batshit crazy.”

  “You saw her!” he said, as though incredulous. “There ain’t no settlin’ her down!”

  “Then you should’ve picked better company to keep,” I said. “Danny, the zip ties?”

  “Nooo, I got sensitive wrists!” moaned Garland.

  Danny actually laughed. “Sensitive wrists. I swear. Anyway, CB, they’re the long thick ones. Got ‘em at the marina. Should hold him fine.”

  As I stood over the skinny longhair, Danny ran up to the flybridge to retrieve the zip ties. I was just outside the salon door, on the aft deck, but I could see the folks inside, and hear ‘em just fine.

  Without really directin’ it toward anyone, Georgie said, “I need to cauterize that leg wound,” she said. “The tourniquet can do more harm than good if it’s left on too long.”

  “I think we’re gonna be real happy to have you –”

  My words were cut off when I felt a punch to my stomach. I looked down at Garland, who’d propped himself up on one hand and had his other arm drawn back, like he was ready to throw another weak-ass punch.

  “Did you fuckin’ hit me?”

  “Not hard enough I guess,” he said.

  “No, you’re right. This is hard enough. Maybe a little too hard.”

  “Huh?” he said, a quizzical look on his face as he sat staring up at me, still propped up on his extended arm.

  I balled my fist – which I gotta admit is pretty enormous – and punched him in the face, hard. Real hard. My knuckles were practically ringin’ from the impact, and as I followed through, his head slammed the deck and his body went about as limp as a noodle. I’d opened a sizable cut above his left eyebrow, and the blood ran down the side of his face.

  Turnin’ away from Garland again, I said, “Sorry, Georgie. Cauterize it? With what? Like … fire?” I asked.

  “Is he okay?’ asked Georgie.

  “You examined him just a minute ago.”

  Georgie shook her head, and I saw her smile, even if nobody else noticed it. She hurried inside and came back out with a cloth. She knelt down and pressed it against the cut on Garland’s brow, stoppin’ the flow of blood.

  “You don’t cauterize with open flame,” she said. “I need something flat and heated until it’s red hot. Rox, would you grab that white canvas bag in our bedroom closet?”

  At the ‘our bedroom’ reference, I noticed Roxy glance at me, then at her mom. Must take some gettin’ used to, seein’ your mom with someone else.

  I guess in the long and the short run, I’d have preferred to see my Ma with anyone else than my Pa, rather than bein’ dead.

  Roxy got past it quick, runnin’ off to do what her mama said. When she came back about forty-five seconds later, she had the bag, and set it down beside Georgie. Danny was right behind her.

  “Find the Fentanyl patches,” said Georgina. “It won’t do anything for her now, but she’s going to need them by the time she wakes up. I have syringes in there, too, but no liquid pain meds, so we’ll have to dissolve some of this Oxycodone and handle it that way.”

  “Where do you want the Fentanyl patch?” asked Roxy.

  “On her arm is fine,” she said. “Anywhere, really.”

  “Okay, I’ll do the patch and you do the oxycodone.”

  “Whoa,” said Danny, leanin’ over to look at the unconscious Garland’s face. “What happened to his eye?”

  “He hit me, so I hit him back.”

  Danny nodded. “Remind me not to piss you off, but good job. Now I can zip him up easy as you please.”

  He set to work, so I went in to see if my doctor girlfriend needed any help. I thought about that. It took a goddamned zombie apocalypse caused by a crazy Indian medicine man for me to find a hot doc that wanted to go out with me.

  There’s somethin’ to be said about slim pickins’. Suddenly, a big boy from the swamp looks pretty damned good.

  “Need help?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’ve got the pain meds handled, but I still need a solution for cauterizing her stump.”

  “Shit. Stump,” I said.

  “No better term for it,” she said, tying on one of the aprons from the kitchen pantry. It was the type that loops over your neck, covers your chest, and ties in back.

  “Anyway, see what you can do. It needs to be steel, and it needs to be flat.”

  I went right into the galley and started openin’ drawers. In no time, I found just the tool. It was a solid, stainless steel spatula with a teak wood handle.

  I pulled it out of the drawer, turned around and held it up. “This do?”

  She looked up. “Yes,” she said. “I believe it will. Do we have a torch, so it can be heated?”

  “Stove won’t work?

  “I just assumed it would be electric,” she said. “If it’s gas, yes, it will work. It will take longer than a torch, but it will do the job. Don’t heat it yet. I’ve got to sedate her and trim the wound before I get that far.”

  I looked over to see Danny draggin’ Garland toward the starboard rail with one hand. Danny was huge compared to Garland, and even bein’ dead we
ight was no match for his strength.

  I put the spatula down and walked out to see what he had in mind.

  “Gonna zip this guy to the railin’ here,” he said.

  “Sturdy rail,” I said.

  With one last pull, he got him there. He raised the unconscious man’s arms and threaded the zip tie inside the stainless-steel tube, then secured it around both his wrists.

  When he laid him back down, he lay flat on his back with just his arms extended. It was the perfect height. Danny set to work zippin’ his ankles together, too.

  When he was done, he stood upright. “Hope they finish with her fast,” he said. “I’d like to take advantage of this daylight.”

  “Not comfortable runnin’ this sucker at night?”

  “I ain’t driven a yacht before,” he said. “Thing’s like three times as long as the houseboat I drove years ago, out at the Lake of the Ozarks.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the help. I’ll hang with you a bit once I see if Georgie needs anything.”

  As I got back inside, the good doctor was holdin’ a fillet knife in her hands, cleanin’ it with rubbin’ alcohol she’d pilfered from CVS. She looked up and offered me a slight smile. “Well, here goes nothing. I just injected her with the Oxycodone, so she might stay out through it.”

  “Hell, she might have brain damage,” I said. “See any marks on her head? Bumps or anything?”

  “That boat did fly into the air pretty high,” she said, leaning forward, running her gloved hand over Billie Jo’s head. Her face scrunched up, and she looked even cuter.

  “I feel a small bump on her crown, but no goose eggs. If the amputation’s successful, none of her other injuries should kill her. Thank God we stocked up on antibiotics.”

  I could tell Dr. Lake had once again embraced her Hippocratic oath. I didn’t like the girl she was workin’ on one bit, but I respected Georgie that much more.

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Infection from gator bites can put you down fast. You need help?”

  “If she wakes up, we may need you and Danny to hold her down while I finish.”

  I unclipped the radio I’d put on my belt. “He’s on my channel. I’ll have him down here lickity-split.”

  “Roxy, hold this please.” She held out the clean fillet knife and her daughter took it. “Mom, this is the first time I’ve seen you work in person.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” said Georgina. “I’m glad you’re my assistant. Now keep that blade clean while I change my gloves and find a pin.”

  “A pen?” I asked. “Takin’ notes?”

  “No, a pin. I want to stick her foot and see if she stirs.”

  “Hell, use the damned syringe.”

  Georgie closed her eyes, and I could see her chastising herself. “Duh,” she said.

  I laughed. “Never heard you say that before.”

  “Consider that a good thing,” she said, pullin’ her dirty gloves off and snappin’ on a new pair. She held out her hand to Roxy, who gave her the knife.

  “Okay, I need to clean up these dangling tendons. The leg is torn badly, and it’s very uneven, so after I cut away the excess tissue, I’ll attempt to use the large skin flap to cover the wound once I finish cauterization.”

  “Just remember who she was before you pulled the gun on her ass,” I said. “Unless you’re swappin’ out her brain, that part ain’t gonna change. If anything, she’ll just be more pissed. Probably blame the whole goddamned thing on us.”

  “I will invite her to file a malpractice suit against me,” she said with a wink. She turned to her daughter. “Ready Rox?”

  “And steady,” said Roxy.

  “I’ll be up with Danny,” said Terry.

  “Take fuckin’ Liam with you,” I said. “Kid’s been fuckin’ around with that Xbox long enough. Tell Danny to figure out some bait and y’all put some of that fishin’ gear to use.”

  Terry saluted facetiously. “Aye Aye, Captain!” he said, and marched off, turnin’ back with a smile and a wink.

  Everyone seemed to be havin’ a great time in the apocalypse. That bein’ the case, I decided to take the credit for it.

  At least in my mind. Nobody else needed to know.

  While the medication was kickin’ in, Georgie found an extensive sewing kit with a bunch of different needles. She picked out a big one, then had Danny bring her the lightest test fishin’ line he had. She was able to thread the needle with it, and it now sat on a cookie sheet on the table beside her.

  “Here goes nothing,” she said. “Get those lights, would you Cole?”

  I turned ‘em on and the table holdin’ Billie Jo was highly illuminated.

  “Turn away if you can’t handle it,” said Georgie. “Once I start, even flying vomit won’t stop me.”

  I couldn’t. Georgie picked up the syringe and held it at the girl’s foot. She poked near the heel.

  Nothin’.

  She poked a couple of toes, nice and hard.

  More nothin’. I was guessin’ the girl was either dead or out like a light.

  “Hope you gave her a lot of that shit,” I said. “From the looks of her, she mighta built a tolerance for several kinds of drugs.”

  “I took that into consideration. What I gave her would knock you and me out for the night.”

  She looked at Roxy. “Let’s get this over with. Cole, start heating those steak knives. The ones with the wood handles.”

  I turned on the flame and rested four steak knives, so the blades were dead in the flame. Within a minute, they were all red hot.

  “Be ready,” she said.

  “Okay, they’re glowin’ red,” I said.

  “Bring one over now.”

  As I approached, I saw her use the fillet knife to cut a long, danglin’ somethin’ or other away and toss it into a stainless wastebasket. “Knife,” she said. I gave it to her.

  She used it to cauterize the tendon or whatever she’d just cut.

  “Okay, cool, clean, and reheat. Get me another hot knife now.”

  I brought it over and gave it to her. She immediately used it to cut several other jagged areas away, and I noticed how there was no blood after she’d sliced through. The hot knives were doin’ their part.

  “Okay, bring me the hot spatula so I can hit the rest of these bleeders, then I’ll ligate the femoral nerve,” she said, explaining to Roxy as she worked. “If I screw that up, she’ll die no matter what. Get ready to hand me the needle.”

  Roxy did, and she set to work again. Roxy held a small LED flashlight, so Georgie could see what she was doin’. I was glad I couldn’t.

  I was happy to stay on knife duty.

  She tapped the flat part of the glowin’ spatula to several veins and tendons. When she was done, she set it aside, took the needle and fishin’ line and began to stitch part of the wound. She worked for a bit, then pulled the nylon line tight and knotted it. “Scissors,” she said, and Roxy didn’t hand them to her; she leaned in and clipped the line herself.

  “Nice,” said Georgie, smilin’ at her kid. “Cole, I need two more knives, fast.”

  I picked both of ‘em up from the flame and scooted over to her. She took one and cauterized some shit or other, then took the other one and did some more.

  When she was done with each one, she gave it back.

  “Clean and reheat?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, shakin’ her head. “Just have to rasp the bone to get rid of the sharp edges, then I can suture the fascia. I have to do it from the inside out.”

  “No argument here,” I said, feelin’ the first flutter in my stomach at the thought of filin’ down bones.

  I watched as she picked up a fine file we’d pulled from a toolbox in the engine compartment and started filin’ away on the bone.

  My stomach rumbled, and I ran outside, nearly stomped on Garland as I leaned over the rail to lose my lunch.

  I’d seen some shit, but that took the cake.

  By the time
I recovered, Georgie was workin’ the needle and thread. She started deep and worked her way toward the surface of the leg. When she was satisfied, she pulled the two big skin flaps together and poked her big needle through both pieces, drawin’ the two together along the length of the leg’s diameter.

  After Roxy clipped the last bit of line, Georgie leaned forward to examine the work. About thirty seconds later, she stood up and pulled her gloves off, droppin’ them into the trash.

  “Now for the real test,” she said, leanin’ forward and removin’ the tourniquet slowly. As she did, I saw the extremity turn pink-ish again. We all waited for it to explode or somethin’.

  At least that’s what I was waitin’ for. At car races, I’m waitin’ for a crash. At hockey games I’m waitin’ for a fight. It’s just kinda who I am.

  “That went very well,” she said. “And she was a better patient than she is a human being. Now I’m ready for a drink.”

  “A fine suggestion,” I said. “Should we move her somewhere first?”

  “Don’t bother,” said Georgie. “She’ll be out a couple more hours with what I gave her.”

  I swept my hand toward the door, and she walked ahead of me. She turned and smiled. “That was exhilarating.”

  “Oh, for me, too,” I said. “Feel like I just went on a roller coaster.”

  “You threw up, didn’t you? When I filed the bone?”

  “Maybe,” I said sheepishly.

  We walked upstairs where Danny was sittin’ in the captain’s chair. He had a beer sittin’ in the helm cupholder, and a cooler by his feet. When we walked up, he reached down and pulled out two bottles of Corona.

  “No lime?” I asked.

  “I got that RealLime shit,” he said. “Better’n nothin’.”

  I nodded toward Georgie. “Lime?”

  “Always,” she said. “Otherwise, why drink Corona?”

  A girl after my own heart.

  Ω

  The clock on the helm said it was 6:30 PM. I was amazed at how the time had flown, because the intense task of the surgery seemed to erase time; it was all about the task at hand and nothing else.