The light that revealed David’s battered condition also blinded him. He scrambled to pick it up and eventually managed to retrieve it. He shone it forward just in time to see his bow crash into the nearest dock. I could hear the engine rev as he flung it into reverse, but the boat didn’t move. He shone the light forward again, sweeping it from side to side, showing that the metal guard rail had become entangled in the splintered woodwork of the dock.
The spotlight suddenly flicked along the dock and fell on a horde of infected streaming towards the stricken boat. David turned it back to the bow and the engine revved again. As the boat strained against the dock, the guard rail slowly began to bend as the screws holding it to the deck gave out one by one. In a few seconds it would be torn off and David would be free, but when the spotlight shone on the dock once more, I saw that the first of the infected were almost at its bow. The engine screamed as David opened it up as far as it would go, but it was too little too late. The infected were on board and running towards the cockpit. David was flashing the spotlight around, looking desperately for a way out, but before he found one the first of the infected was upon him. Weaponless and injured, there was nothing he could do. The spotlight dropped to the deck once more, revealing a flailing and terrified David. He had his right hand tight around the neck of his attacker and was doing his best to hold it off. It clawed at him, tearing at his face. Soon another was on him and then another. They ripped at his belly, opening it up and spilling his bowels across the deck. David was struggling, trying to fight them off, but I could see his strength starting to fade. More infected arrived and started to fight for their share, grabbing any part of David they could get hold of and pulling. His left arm was torn from his body and I watched as two infected squabbled over it. Another was chewing on his cheek. I saw David try to move his head away and couldn’t believe he was still alive. The spotlight was sent spinning across the deck, its beam revealing the stream of infected coming on board, before it finally went out. We wouldn’t have to worry about David any more. I heard CJ mutter something about how he’d got what he deserved, and I found it difficult to disagree.
As I reached for the VHF radio, I felt the boat shift beneath me. The eye had passed over us, the winds were starting to turn and pick up again. Soon, we’d be back in the teeth of the storm. I made a quick call to Jack to tell him what I’d seen.
‘How badly is the boat tangled in the dock?’ Jack sounded deeply concerned.
‘Not too badly. He’d almost got it free before he was overrun.’
‘Christ!’ The radio crackled. ‘That’s not good. That’s not good at all.’
It took me a second or two to work out why Jack was so worried. While the wind had previously been blowing from the south, towards the shore where David had hit the dock, it was now blowing from the north, away from the shore. I looked at the ketch and saw it was already straining against the dock, the railings at the front bending further with each gust. If the winds in the second half were as strong as the first, I doubted the boat would stay trapped for long and once it was free, it would be sent crashing through the harbour. The ketch was heavy and if it rammed into an anchored boat, the other boat would almost certainly come off worst. I’d heard stories of how much damage one loose boat could do in an anchorage and I didn’t want to think of what might happen if David’s boat broke free. Then another thought hit me.
It wasn’t just the boat we had to worry about. Before the spotlight had finally gone out, I’d seen thirty or forty infected crowding the deck, with more pushing to get on, all desperate to get a piece of David. If it managed to break free, the boat would carry its unwanted passengers with it, spreading them throughout the harbour and onto any vessels it hit. Being closest we were the first in line.
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ The others were looking at me, scared by my sudden change of mood. I needed to think, to get some sort of plan together.
‘What’s wrong?’ CJ had a concerned look on her face.
Ignoring her, I flicked my eyes back and forth, searching for something, anything that might help.
‘Rob, you’re starting to scare the boys.’ CJ’s voice was cracking under the stress. She knew something was wrong, seriously wrong, but I don’t think she realised just how bad the situation might soon become. I pulled myself together, I needed to tell them. I needed them to help me work out what we were going to do.
‘Right,’ I tried to collect my thoughts, ‘Here’s the situation. As the wind picks up, it’s going to push David’s boat away from the dock. Before he died David had almost pulled it free and the wind will do the rest. When that happens, it’s going to come straight at us. If it hits us, it’ll do a lot of damage, maybe even sink us. Even if it doesn’t, we’ll be in trouble. All those infected on board, they’re going to know we’re in here. They’ll try to get onto our boat. We can probably deal with one or two but any more than that and there will be enough of them to break through the cabin door. Either way, if that boat hits us, we’re in big trouble. We need to get a plan together. We need to work out what to do; if there is anything we can do.’
‘Can we move out of the way?’ Mike voiced the first thought I’d had.
‘No. By the time we get all the anchors up, the wind will be blowing at full strength again and it would be suicidal to try to move. We’d just end up hitting one of the other boats, causing just as much damage as David’s boat, and we’d probably still sink anyway. Either that or we’d end up on the beach with the infected.’ I glanced at the others. I could see from their faces that the seriousness of the situation was sinking in and I carried on. ‘Somehow we need to be able to keep it away from us if it gets too close.’
‘What about the fenders?’ CJ pointed to the large inflatable plastic tubes that lay in one corner of the cabin, ‘Wouldn’t they stop it hitting us?’
I considered this for a moment. ‘No, they’d only work if it was going to hit us side on. If David’s boat hits us, it’s going to be across the bows. We’d have nowhere to hang them from. And besides, if it gets close enough for the fenders to work, the infected will be able to get on board, and we won’t last long if that happens.’
CJ looked dejected, and I didn’t blame her. We were running out of both ideas and time. If there’d been enough room I’d have been pacing around. I always thought better when I was moving, but the cabin was crammed with stuff we were storing for the storm. I looked around. As well as the dinghy and the sails, we also had a rain-catcher from one of the garden boats. We’d taken it onto the catamaran because we couldn’t store it on the boat without damaging the growing plants. The wooden poles that kept it open were tied together and stowed alongside the galley. I focussed on the poles. Each was about ten feet long and something over two inches in diameter. A plan started to formulate in my mind. It would be risky, but it was our only hope. If Jon had been here, I’d have been more certain of success, but with just me, Andrew, CJ and the three boys, I doubted we’d have the strength. I hoped I was wrong. I hoped David’s boat would somehow stay stubbornly stuck on the dock, but I doubted it.
I glanced through the window. The ketch was now only held there by a single thin section of the guard rail.
I outlined my plan to the others. They looked sceptical and I didn’t blame them. I was pretty sceptical about it myself, but it was our only chance. As they struggled into their rain gear, I searched desperately through the lockers, looking for the safety harnesses. They’d helped save our lives when the white squall hit on the way to Miami, and they’d be the only thing that would stop us from being pitched into the sea as the boat bucked and bounced on the ever-building waves. I could only find five of them and there were six of us. I made a decision and passed the harnesses out to the others. None of us bothered with life jackets, not even Andrew. It would be better to drown than make it to shore and be ripped apart by the infected.
I turned on the deck lights and pulled back the cabin door. The wind howled, pulling at us as we stepped outside. Th
e raindrops stung like bullets as they struck my face and the wind was so fierce that my eyes watered. One by one I checked the safety harnesses the others were now wearing. It was just as well, both Jimmy and Mike had put theirs on the wrong way round and would have slipped from them if they’d fallen over. I put them on properly and tightened them up. Then I clipped each of them onto the safety lines that ran up either side of the boat. I watched as they staggered up towards the bow. Jimmy and Jeff could barely stay upright as the wind tore at them. If I’d thought we could get away without them being on deck, I’d have made them stay inside, but we’d need every ounce of strength we could muster.
Once they were in position, I brought the poles from the rain-catcher out into the cockpit and carried them forward one at a time. Jimmy and Andrew were on one bow while CJ and Jeff were on the other. I gave them a pole each and then Mike and I settled ourselves onto the deck between the two hulls, with our own poles, ready to move to one side or the other, depending on what happened. Mike tried to say something to me, but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of the wind.
I shone the spotlight into the darkness, trying to pick out David’s boat through the teaming rain. I needn’t have bothered, a thunderstorm embedded in the hurricane started to pass overhead, the noise adding to the cacophony created by the wind and rain. When the lightning flashed and crackled across the sky it was almost as bright as day, and I could see the infected crowding the shores, trying to get as much shelter from the storm as they could. Everywhere they were being pushed into the water by the wind and by the mass of bodies behind them. Some struggled out, pushing against the hordes for space, while others got swallowed up by the waves. If I hadn’t known what they were capable of I’d have felt sorry for them, but I knew that to feel sympathy for the infected was dangerous. I had to remember what they’d do to me, to all of us, if they got the chance.
Another flash of lightning and I saw David’s boat had finally broken free and was starting to close on us. I held it in the spotlight, picking out the infected that swarmed its deck. Many were still trying to get to the stern, to get to whatever was left of David’s body. I could see blood splattered over the cockpit and dripping from the hands and mouths of the infected that had torn him apart. As the ketch started to pitch and roll, the infected realised something was happening and became agitated. Some were thrown into the water by the movement of the boat and disappeared beneath the waves, while others were starting to search the darkness. I had the feeling they were beginning to sense our presence, to sense that uninfected humans were near.
Within minutes it became clear the ketch would score a direct hit on our bows. Even dead, David might yet succeed in killing us all. When it was within fifteen feet of us, Mike and I slipped forward onto the bows, Mike to the right and me to the left. I knew I’d have to be very careful, the deck was slippery beneath my feet and I almost lost my footing with every step. When I reached the bow, I checked Jeff’s and CJ’s harnesses, ensuring they were still secure and were properly clipped to the safety lines. Finally, I looked at them. ‘Are you ready?’
I could barely hear my own words over the roar of the wind. I knew CJ said something back, because I saw her lips move, but her words were swallowed by the storm. We held the poles like lances and readied ourselves for the impact. When the boat got close enough we would fend it off for as long as possible, trying to force it to one side or the other. If we could do that, the pressure would be off and we’d simply need to keep it as far away from our side as possible, letting the wind carry it past us.
David’s boat crashed into the ends of the poles. The one I was holding shuddered and I staggered backwards. CJ held her footing, but only just, while Jeff was thrown to the deck. He scrambled back to his feet, grabbed his pole again and got back into position. I glanced across to the right-hand bow and saw that the others were all still on their feet. Jimmy had come close to dropping his pole and was readjusting his grip to make sure it didn’t happen again.
I looked at the ketch. For the time being it wasn’t getting any closer.
The infected knew we were there and they jockeyed for position, reaching towards us, trying to get to us. I could see them whenever the lightning crashed overhead, their eyes burning with rage, their hair wild and billowing around their sunken, sallow faces. Some had remnants of clothes clinging to their gaunt bodies, but most were naked and emaciated, their muscles wasted from lack of food. A few — those that had consumed David after tearing him limb from limb — had swollen bellies, but most looked close to starvation. Despite their emaciated state, their movements hadn’t slowed and their rage hadn’t subsided. They were still a formidable foe; one that we’d struggle to fight off if they got on board.
For what seemed like a lifetime, the boat and its cargo of infected hovered a few feet from our bows. They were close enough that I could smell them, hear them snarl and roar, even above the sound of the wind, as they tried to work out how to get to us. Sometimes the boat grew closer and we had to use all our strength to force it back. Sometimes it seemed like it was about to move off to one side or other, but then a sudden gust would move it back across our bows. Every now and then, as the boat rolled, an infected would be pitched into the sea. Most of them were swallowed up by the churning waters, but I could see one or two clinging to our web of anchor lines. We’d have to deal with them before they pulled themselves onto the deck, but the ropes slackened and snapped as the boat rode over the waves, impeding their progress and we ignored them for now, concentrating on the many rather than the few.
I looked at the others and could see their strength was beginning to fail. Jeff could barely lift his pole and I could tell he was running on fear alone; I could see it etched into his face. He might even have been crying. It was hard to tell with all the rain and the spray. Then, as the storm moved over us slowly, there came a slight change in the direction of the wind, no more than a few degrees, but it was enough to change the direction of David’s boat. It was the break we’d been waiting for, that we so badly needed. With the last of our strength, we pushed and bullied the heavy ketch to our left. We could see we were finally winning and it re-energised us. Andrew, Mike and Jimmy came across to the left-hand side, and with the six of us working together, we kept the boat a safe distance from us. While infected occasionally spilled over the side, there were still many more on board and we had to ensure they couldn’t get to us.
With our attention focussed to our left, I’d forgotten about the infected hanging on the anchor lines. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement up towards the bows.
I turned just as the lightning flashed and saw the first of the infected had made it onto the deck. I left the others to deal with the ketch and turned my attention towards it. Its movements were slowed by its long soaking, but it was still surprisingly quick. I caught it in the chest with the pole, keeping clear of its flailing, clawing hands. Forgetting I wasn’t wearing a harness, I pushed forward and to my left, sending it over the side and into the sea.
I just had time to see the infected sink into the swirling waters before the boat pitched forward and my legs disappeared from under me. As I fell, I dropped the pole. It clattered onto the deck and rolled over the side. I scrabbled for something to hold on to, to stop me following it into the water. My hands closed on one of the stanchions that supported the guard rail, but I couldn’t stop my body pivoting round and dropping over the side. Hanging there, the lower half of my body was alternately dunked into the water and dragged from it, sapping my strength. My hands were still raw from my escape from the top of the lighthouse and the salt spray stung as I gripped onto the metal post. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on, I was already exhausted and I could feel what little energy I had left draining from me. Just when I thought I would lose my grip I felt a hand on my wrist. I flinched thinking it was one of the infected, but when I looked up I saw Andrew standing over me. He tried to pull me up but he couldn’t get a decent grip. Then CJ appeared. S
he lent between the wires of the guard rail and grabbed the back of my shirt. Between them they manhandled me back onto the deck.
I lay there for a second, breathing heavily, glad to be alive, and then I remembered how I’d ended up over the side. I sprang to my feet. The ketch was now off our stern, drifting towards the nearest of the garden boats. I didn’t know if they’d hear me, but I shouted anyway.
‘We’ve got to check the anchor lines. Make sure there’s no infected clinging to them.’
I ran forward, barely staying upright as the deck bucked beneath me. Ahead I saw a hand coming over the left-hand bow, followed by an arm. On the right bow, another infected was almost fully on board.
‘Use your pole, push it over the side.’
I think it was more the gesture than the words that Andrew understood and he ran across, swinging his pole in an arc that connected with the infected as it struggled to its feet. I heard the crack of wood against bone amongst the sounds of the wind whipping through the rigging. The infected staggered against the guard rail. Andrew rammed the pole into its chest and continued forward, sending it over the side. It floated briefly, the pole sticking upwards like a mast, and then slipped from sight. Before I could do anything about the infected clambering over the left bow, CJ shot past me, dislodging it with her pole. She leaned over the bow, swinging the pole at something below. I heard her make contact several times before she finally stopped.
For Those In Peril (Book 1): For Those In Peril On The Sea Page 28