The lull of the music relaxed her body into the comfortable chair. It wasn’t long before her eyelids started to droop, and she drifted off to sleep.
Minutes later, Stu’s eyes fluttered, and then they snapped open, and he stared at the metal ceiling. Without a sound, he climbed from the bed. After a quick look around his eyes refocused, and he whispered one word, “Hanna!” Without a backward glance, he quickly exited the cabin.
208
Deep down inside the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
He had no idea how long he had been hiding on the ship. Days blend into each other when you rarely see the sun. He was down below deck for weeks. He scavenged for what he needed.
He was left behind when the crew fled. No one thought to check he was in any of the life boats along with everyone else. No one cared he was left behind.
No one gave a shit.
Story of his life.
He knew what was happening to the world, on the land, he had sat and watched the news reports along with the rest of the crew. He was best out of it. There is enough food and water to last months. He had no reason to leave – why risk it. The boat was anchored safely. There is no way people could reach it, unless they had a boat to start with.
The crew were crazy to abandon such a well stocked, safe location. A metal island.
If he knew how to move the ship, he would have. He would have moved further out to sea, away from the sight of land. He had looked over the instruments, and checked around the engine room, but it all looked too complicated, and there was no way he was going to attempt to move it, and risk getting smashed against the coastal rocks. He saw what happens to vessels that run aground.
Then the strangers arrived. People with guns. Mainly females, but they still looked like they meant business. He kept to the lower levels and moved from place to place, careful to hide his rubbish, and the smell of his bodily waste from being discovered. He made sure he tied his waste bags securely so the smell didn’t waft. So far, it worked.
At one point, he was concerned when he realized they had a small dog. But he needn’t have worried. A couple of times the dog found him, hiding. The animal didn’t kick up a fuss, or bark to give his location away; she simply rolled onto her back and let him scratch her belly. When a female whistled the friendly animal would scamper off.
Everything was working out okay. The ship was large enough to conceal him. Then most of the people left, leaving just two females behind. With a thick burly man arriving every now and then to check over the engine room.
He could deal with, and hide from just three people. He knew the ship like the back of his hand – every corridor, corner, and conduit. He could navigate in the complete dark if he needed to.
However, now they all seemed to have moved onto the ship. He was concerned that with more people there was a higher chance of being discovered. No matter how slim the chance, it was always present, always in the back of his mind, making him sick to the stomach.
It was his ship; they had no right to be here. They were messing everything up.
Only moments ago the ships powerful engines started.
Are they going to attempt to move it?
Also, mere minutes ago, one of them came close to his location – a fat, gothic looking woman with dark hair. She looked angry and upset and was making enough noise to wake the dead.
A fitting term, he reasoned. But then again, the infected aren’t dead, just deformed. Still living and breathing, in a sense.
He ran a hand over his dirty face and through his greasy hair.
He’d made a mistake – a sound. He was sure she would double back and investigate. Then he’d drop the metal bar he was holding, due to sweaty palms. He froze, knowing he had given his location away. Luckily, the woman ran in the opposite direction.
He knew she would return, bringing the others with her. He sat with his back to the cold metal wall, while holding a small knife, which he was pulling back and forth across his leather belt that he held taut, stretched out from between his dirty toes to his left hand, to sharpen it.
He needed to be ready when they came for him. He needed to do whatever he had to stay safe.
“It’s my fucking ship!” he hissed between clenched teeth.
209
Stu
On the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Stu was disorientated. However, he knew he was on the ship – they had brought him here.
“Where’s my Hanna,” he muttered, with spittle dribbling from his lips. His eyes were wide and flicked from one area to another.
He hadn’t even noticed Smokie was in the dark corner across the room, asleep on a chair.
All he knew was he had to reach his daughter. He was all she had left. He had to hold her, pull her close, to keep her safe. His baby.
Stu had been on the ship numerous times, along with everyone else; he knew his way around.
To get onto the deck he didn’t need to pass anyone else. The vessel’s superstructure was a warren of passageways and steps. Before long, he was on deck, with the rain lashing down over him.
He ignored the cold rain.
He could see a few people wandering off in the other direction. He ignored them.
Stu only had one thought running through his aching head. Hanna. She was on the beach alone, scared, and she needed her father.
“I’m coming baby.” A sob escaped his lips as tears rolled down his face.
He ran down the deck toward the boarding steps. He grabbed the crank and started to wind the steps down from their locked position. The rigid-sided craft was tied to a platform next to the steps, raised up out of the water. As the steps lowered the boat started to float.
Stu raced down the steps. The rain made them slippery, and twice he almost plummeted over the side into the frothing ocean.
Seagulls screeched above, circling the ship.
Thunder rumbled off in the distance.
With nimble hands Stu untied the craft, and set about pulling the cord to start the engine. It took four pulls before it spluttered to life.
No one heard the sound of the small outboard motor over the noise of the vast vessels rumbling engines, or the lashing rain and rumbling thunder.
Stu raced the boat off towards the beach at full throttle.
“Daddies coming baby.”
210
Lindell and the others
On the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Lindell stood at the porthole in his cabin. Outside was just a haze of rain and the blurred line that was the pebbled beach.
He had showered and shaved, with shampoo and razors that were left behind by someone making a quick exit.
Lindell stood looking into the steamed-up mirror checking out his bloody nose, courtesy of Stu. It was sore to the touch, but luckily unbroken. As a bouncer, he has been punched in the face more times than he could remember, but Stu’s was one of the only times he didn’t see it coming.
He found clean clothes that were a little on the large size. Everything in the small closet was made of jeans or patchwork flannel. He felt like a farm worker.
It felt unreal being inside a toilet, with soap and towels at his disposal, along with a comfortable bed and fresh clothing. His room looked like it was out of a horror movie, where everything was left as if the person suddenly decided to run and jump from the ship. There was even a razor on the side of the sink as if the man hadn’t even had time to finish shaving.
It made him wonder why nothing was packed? What made the people up and leave so suddenly?
He had to stand and compose himself, to readjust his mindset. It was hard to just relax when every minute of every waking hour was spent coiled like a spring.
The metal pipe he had used to bash in heads was wiped clean and lying on the bed. It was comforting knowing it was within easy reach.
Caroline had tapped at his d
oor and stated through it that food would soon be ready.
Lindell felt uncomfortable that everything was becoming so relaxed so quickly.
No one said a word about getting a couple of people up on the deck to keep watch. Everyone was presuming they were in an impenetrable, floating metal fortress. But in his opinion, there was no such thing as a hundred percent safe. Have they forgotten about all the people we have lost so far? Juan and his sister Bonnie, Cody and his wife Abigail, Jessica, Phyllis, Tierra and her son Dante. Too many. How quickly we forget.
He was getting ready to go up to take the first watch. He would arrange a system so everyone would take a turn.
Better safe than sorry.
Lindell sat near the edge of the bed.
My daughter Kahley is out there somewhere, in all this.
He knew it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
She’s only six, and scared senseless, without her real father around to protect her.
Her step-father better be protecting her. If he doesn’t these creatures will be the least of his worries.
Lindell envisioned Tyrone, a wannabe rap star look-alike. With all his thick gold chains and big rings, driving ridiculously expensive cars, costing more than Lindell made in a year, all possible because of his porn websites.
He’d better keep her safe in that beach house of his.
It made him mad that he never asked where the large, expensive house was, because, deep down, he was jealous that Tyrone could give Kahley so much more than he ever could. He was afraid that if he knew where it was he would want to drive there to look at it. He saw photos of Kahley on the private beach, playing on the sand. From the photos, it could be anywhere.
He knew he was just driving himself crazy. There was nothing he could do. Worrying was all he had left.
That’s the problem with having spare time to think, the mind wanders.
Someone knocked at his door, and before he had chance to reply, Terrance walked in.
“You okay bro?” Terrance was cleaned up and wearing a green flannel shirt and baggy jeans.
“I’m good.” He stared at his brother. “What’s with all the flannel on this ship, it looks like a farmer’s convention in the mess hall?”
“Tell me about it,” Terrance said. “I had a choice of seven different coloured flannel. This was the least jarring to the eyes; the others gave me a headache.”
“I was about to head up and take the first watch,” Terrance stated. He was in the same mindset as his brother.
“I was about to do the same.”
“You can take the second.” Terrance pulled his jeans up, which were slipping a little. “I’m going to see Smokie and see what kind of weapons they have on board. I don’t think a spade will help me much out here.”
“Good idea.” Lindell stood.
“I am told food is being prepared. Could you bring me up some when you finish yours?”
“Sure bro.” Lindell sighed.
“You okay? That is, apart from man eating zombie's, whatever they are, and your daughter off with someone else, sort of okay?”
Lindell turned back to the porthole.
“I should feel safe, being on the ship.” He tried to think of the right words. “But it just feels… wrong.”
“Trust me, I know what you mean.”
“Good, I thought I was over thinking things.”
“It’s your instinct kicking in. This whole place feels wrong.” Terrance waved around the small cabin. “Where did all the people go? They left everything, and there’s no blood to suggest they were attacked.”
“While I’m sat down eating with the others, I will arrange the watch roster. Then I’m going to look around the vessel, see if I can make sense of all this.”
Suddenly, the ship rolled to port with a bone shaking jolt, making both brothers catch their footing. It was quickly followed by a very loud thud and the sound of metal scraping against metal.
211
Bachman and Emma
Zone 4
The underground bunker
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
Bachman had no idea how long he slept for. The floor was hard and he was cold, but he needed the rest. His whole body ached like nothing he had ever experienced before.
Three years ago, a friend convinced him to run in a marathon. ‘Only 16 km’ his friend said, ‘a walk in the park’. Bachman liked jogging; it was his preferred form of exercise, but it didn’t prepare him for what his friend had arranged. It turned out it was a long, military-style obstacle course called Tough Mudder, that involved, Artic Enema – an ice-cold river to wade across, Electroshock Therapy – running through dandling wires that gave a powerful jolt, Funky Monkey – bars dangling over ice-cold water, and Everest – a towering slope that needed teamwork to climb, among numerous other things, including dizzying heights.
However, he had succeeded, but even after all that, he still didn’t feel as bad as he does now.
The cupboard was dark, with just a little light shining through the slats in the bottom of the door.
Beside him, Emma muttered in her sleep.
Slowly, he sat up. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt like they weren’t alone, like some sixth sense had kicked in and woke him up.
A sound warned him that there was something in the room outside. It was the shuffle of a chair moving just a few inches.
Bachman strained his hearing.
He leaned forward, with his broken ribs causing him to wince in pain. He put one hand over Emma’s mouth and rocked her awake.
Her eye’s popped open, instantly alert.
Bachman removed his hand and made the shh sign with his finger and lips.
Emma strained her hearing.
The light entering the cupboard door was eclipsed by something.
The problem with the cupboard was, there was nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run. They were trapped in a confined space.
212
Smokie and the others
On the cargo ship
Somewhere off the shore in New York State
Smokie was knocked from her sleep by the impact. She pulled the headphones off. She could hear a ruckus in the corridor outside. As she stood up, she realized Stu was gone.
“Jesus H. Christ!” she muttered as she rushed to the door.
“What the hell was that?” she called as the door swung open just as Caroline was running past.
Smokie could hear the clamor of everyone else in the mess hall. The jolt must have knocked everyone from their seats.
“No idea. I’m on my way to check,” Caroline announced.
They both joined up with the King brothers in the corridor. They passed Frank, who stumbled from his room in a nightgown. He stood holding a bottle of wine in one hand, while rubbing the side of his head with the other.
“It felt like an impact,” Lindell stated.
“Meteorite?” Terrance asked.
“No time for Star Wars jokes,” his brother said as they jogged around a corner and started running down a long thin metal corridor. Their boots clattered along the metal deck.
“This place is like a maze,” Caroline said.
Once they reached the first window they could find they all gathered around it. With a quick scan, no one noticed anything obvious, apart from the fact the vessel was leaning slightly to the port side.
They continued on.
“This is why we should have set a watch,” Lindell stated.
“Hindsight is a bitch,” Smokie replied.
They exited out onto a gantry and raced down the steps that zigzagged down the side of the superstructure.
They moved from their position of looking down the length of the ship towards the bow, as the steps wrapped around the structure. They reasoned if the ship was leaning slightly to the port side, then something must have hit them starboard side. They couldn’t of hit anything, because they weren’t moving.
The group was still three stories up, so t
hey had the perfect view as they rounded the corner.
They stopped dead. The reason for the problem was obvious. Another boat that looked about fifty foot long, had slammed against the starboard side about midway along the vessel.
“Fuck!” Terrance muttered.
“How could this happen?” Caroline questioned. “You’re telling me that has been sailing around, with the crew either dead or gone, for God knows how long, and it just happened to slam into us now, just after we all board?”
“Good question,” Lindell stated. “Someone needs to get on board that ship and get some answers.”
“Yes they do,” Smokie stated. “But first, you two,” she said looking at the brothers, “get down to that location below deck and check the hull’s integrity, to make sure we are not taking on water.”
“On it,” Lindell said.
“Caroline, go with them, and on the way get them both an automatic weapon.”
However, Caroline didn’t answer, and she wasn’t looking at the boat crumpled against their side; she was staring out to sea.
Smokie scanned the horizon. That’s when she also noticed the second ship heading straight at them.
213
Bachman and Emma
Zone 4
The underground bunker
Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania
They both held their breath.
There was a rustle from outside, and a muffled cough.
Emma and Bachman looked at each other. The infected didn’t sneak around, and they certainly didn’t try to cough quietly.
Emma jumped up and swung the door open. As she did a figure fell backwards, clattering onto a group of chairs.
A small plump man in a dark-green boiler suit lay among the toppled furniture. He had his hands over his face. He was also screaming like a banshee.
“Shut the fuck up,” Emma hissed as she booted him in the shin, to stop him from bringing every creature in the area running towards them.
The Sixth Extinction: America (Omnibus Edition | Books 1 – 8) Page 47