Winter Apocalypse: Zombie Crusade V

by J. W. Vohs

  “I’m Michael.” He tilted his head toward his friends. “This is Robbie and Carolyn. I’d love to talk to you, but I think we’re all worried about Father O’Brien.”

  “Yeah, Bruce here said the old guy has a bad ticker, and after losing a lot of blood in some accident back here he probably don’t have much time. I said I’d help move the geezer to his cabin. At least I’m gonna try—my back’s been killin’ me, so it may be up to Roberto to save the day again.”

  Michael turned to Robbie and lowered his voice, “And you’re worried about me being insensitive? Let’s get over there, but keep your eye on that guy.”

  They were aboard O’Brien’s boat in less than five minutes, and Michael told his friends that they shouldn’t plan on an extended visit. He was getting anxious to return to Manitoulin Island.

  Carolyn had grabbed her purse in case Father O’Brien was finally in need of any of the painkillers she’d offered earlier, but the old priest still insisted that he couldn’t feel a thing. Brittany wouldn’t leave his side, and Roberto stayed close to Brittany, rubbing her shoulders and stroking her hand.

  Robbie shook the old man’s good hand. “I’m honored to have known you, and I’ll never forget what you did for us.”

  Father O’Brien whispered, “There’s one thing you can do for me, Rocky.”

  “Anything,” Robbie dropped down on one knee. “Just name it.”

  The old priest smiled, “Make an honest woman of Carolyn. She’ll be the best wife a man could have . . .”

  Carolyn turned beet red, and started to object, but Robbie was still focused on Father O’Brien. “Shoot, Father, I was gonna do that anyway. But you have my word.”

  Robbie patted the old man’s shoulder and stood up. He made eye contact with Carolyn, who was tearing up once again. Robbie hugged her tightly while Michael knelt down by Father O’Brien.

  “Thank you, Father, for helping us understand what’s happening in this crazy world. When you see my Uncle Jim, tell him we took his advice.”

  The old man smiled. “God Bless you, Michael Carboni. Don’t forget what I told you earlier.”

  Michael stiffened, but tried to sound reassuring, “I won’t forget, Father.” He turned to Robbie, “Can I talk to you up on deck?”

  “Sure, we should give the good Father a little breathing room.” He kissed Carolyn lightly. “Come get me if you need me, babe.”

  Michael was waiting for Robbie outside the cabin door. “You know Bruce is going to make sure the Father has a proper final end. We don’t need to hang around here anymore.”

  “Let’s give Carolyn a couple more minutes. To tell you the truth, I just want to put as much distance between this place and us as possible.” He looked around the deck, “Where is Bruce anyway?”

  “And where’s Doug—“ Michael began, but the question seemed to answer itself when the barrel of a gun jabbed him in his back. He was quickly frisked, and Doug relieved him of his weapon.

  Robbie had drawn his .357 and pointed it at Doug’s head. Doug growled in Michael’s ear, “Tell your friend to drop his gun or you’re a dead man.”

  Robbie kept his weapon level. “How do I know he’s not a dead man anyway. At least this way you only get one of us.”

  Doug tried a different approach. “I just want your boat, man. You all can stay here with the sick dude, then go wherever you need to go. I got responsibilities elsewhere.”

  “Where’s Bruce?” Robbie asked evenly.

  “I told him to get me some of those pain meds the brunette was yapping about.”

  “Where is he?” Robbie repeated.

  Michael spoke up, “My guess is that he’s under that tarp behind you, Robbie. There’s a blood smear on the deck.”

  “He wouldn’t take the bimbo’s purse, and he got all mouthy when I said I was with the U.S. Army.”

  Robbie cocked his head, “You’re working for Barnes? Why didn’t you say so?” He let the implication hang ambiguously.

  Doug grunted, “Why would you care?”

  “Where do you think we got this boat, dumb-ass? You better do some fast talking if you really are working for the General.”

  Doug looked confused, “He wanted to see how the infected would handle being shipped from place to place; I don’t see how your fancy yacht could help with that.”

  Robbie narrowed his eyes, “So you screwed it up, didn’t you? And you were trying to run away.”

  Michael was beginning to think that Robbie should have been an actor instead of a hockey player, but he wasn’t sure exactly where this ruse was headed. Unfortunately, Doug wasn’t quite as dim-witted as he first appeared.

  “Nah, you guys are Canadian. And it’s President Barnes. I can see why the president hates Canadians. We’re gonna use the Great Lakes to wipe out a few of your island holdouts. Now toss me your gun or say goodbye to your friend.”

  Carolyn stumbled into the scene, her coat unbuttoned to reveal substantial cleavage. She held her hands above her head in a gesture of surrender while her purse dangled loosely from one shoulder, “Oh, Lord, Robbie, just do what he says. Toss him your gun.”

  “Jesus, Carolyn, you’re not helping here.“ Robbie chastised.

  “Honey, Father O’Brien just passed. Who knows how long before he turns . . .” Carolyn began.

  Doug cut in, “Turns, what do you mean? That old cout was bit?”

  Carolyn walked closer to Doug and Michael. “How did you think he got injured? One of those creatures ate half of his hand, God rest his soul. Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it? If Robbie gives you his gun, will you make sure that Father O’Brien can rest in peace? Didn’t you say you had a bad back? I’ve got all sorts of pain pills that might help you out.”

  Doug gave Michael a hard shove toward Robbie, grabbed Carolyn with his free hand, and pulled her in as his new human shield. “Honey, you and I might just be able to work out a deal.”

  Carolyn pointed out the obvious, “I’d like you better if you didn’t have a gun in my back. Can you and I go have a little private talk somewhere? These boys don’t appreciate it, but I’ve earned quite a reputation for my diplomatic skills. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement where nobody gets hurt.”

  A sinister grin bloomed on Doug’s face as he peered over Carolyn’s shoulder at her partially exposed bosom, “I bet you have earned yourself quite a reputation. I think you and I should have ourselves a diplomatic conference on that fancy boat. Let’s go.”

  When Doug gave her an encouraging shove and took a step forward, Carolyn wiggled around so she could look him in the face. “Won’t you take care of Father O’Brien first?” she pleaded sincerely. “And you can let me know what meds you want,” she added, opening her purse to reveal a virtual pharmacy. “I’ve got Vicodin, generic hydrocodone,” even though she had a limited range of motion, she started pulling out various prescription bottles and pushing them towards Doug’s chest, “be careful with this OxyContin . . .” Her captor let go of her arm and bent slightly forward to catch the enticing cascade of painkillers. Before he knew what hit him, she’d pressed the barrel of her .380 ACP to his temple and pulled the trigger. “That was for Bruce; too bad you didn’t suffer.”

  Michael was speechless. Robbie flung himself at Carolyn and wrapped her in his arms, “Baby, you’re amazing. I love you so much,” he declared, “but what the hell did you think you were doing? You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have gotten all of us killed! I actually think I might be having a heart attack right now . . .”

  “You were the one in the middle of a standoff with a psycho,” Carolyn rebutted. “But I never knew you were such a great actor.”

  “You were watching us?” Robbie was incredulous.

  “Not for long, but I had to do something. That bastard killed Bruce. He would have killed both of you if he’d had the chance.”

  Michael found his voice. “You never cease to surprise me, Carolyn.” He tipped his head in a gesture of respect. “I’m sorry about Father
O’Brien—why don’t you let Robbie and me make sure that he doesn’t come back—”

  “Oh, he’s not gone yet. Brittany and Roberto are telling him funny stories from their childhoods, but I’m not sure he can hear them. They don’t have any idea what’s been going on out here, and I don’t want them to find out about Bruce just yet—not until Father passes. I don’t think we’ll have long to wait.”

  Down in the cabin, Brittany and Roberto had run out of stories to tell. The dying priest was burning up with fever, and had shown no sign of consciousness for a while. Brittany had watched people succumb to the infection before, but never this quickly. She realized that O’Brien was old, and certainly not in the best of health, but she also suspected that he was more than ready to go. In fact, the widower had probably been looking forward to this event for nearly five decades. He’d lived without his wife and two children since he was twenty-five years-old, and now he was going to find them. At least that was Brittany’s hope as she watched yet another loved one fade away.

  Roberto was quietly snoring when Father O’Brien opened his eyes and stared lovingly at Brittany. He drew a few shuddering breaths and whispered, “I saw them.”

  Brittany smiled back and nodded, new tears springing to her eyes as she considered the priest’s words. He then took another ragged breath and grabbed her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “You have to tell Gracie. Tell her.”

  “Tell her what, Father?”

  “I saw Levi, too.”

  “Okay,” she promised, unsure of whom he was talking about.

  O’Brien apparently was worried that his message wasn’t getting through, as he squeezed her hand even more tightly. “Tell her, only her father. I only saw Levi.” He let go of Brittany’s hand and quietly passed away.

  When Brittany and Roberto came up to let the others know that Father O’Brien was gone, Michael quickly slipped down to the cabin and made certain that the priest wouldn’t reawaken as one of the monsters. Robbie and Carolyn bore the burden of telling the two young people about Bruce, and they shared what Doug had said about Barnes trying to transport the infected over water in order to target islands in the Great Lakes. Roberto felt responsible for Bruce’s death, but Brittany wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Evil people are accountable for their own actions; you’re not responsible for that bastard’s sins. Now, the best way we can honor Bruce and Father O’Brien is to take what we’ve learned back to Middle Bass and figure out what to do from there.”

  Everyone was quiet for a moment before Carolyn asked for their attention. “Look, I would like you all to indulge me in an unusual request.”

  Robbie squeezed her shoulder. “Babe, I think we pretty much owe you our lives, so whatever you want, just spit it out.”

  Carolyn’s request was met with unanimous approval. Before the two ships finally parted ways, the traumatized survivors devised a plan to maintain communication between their groups. Then they bid farewell to a blazing lifeboat that was returning the smoldering remains of Bruce and Father O’Brien to the waters that the old sailors had so often called home.

  CHAPTER 13

  The fury of the blizzard had sputtered out with the coming of dawn. Eddies of powdery snow still drifted across the brilliantly white landscape, but the wind had died down and the mid-morning sun was shining brightly. Unfortunately, the unfettered rays of light did nothing to raise Deb’s spirits as she gazed toward the bobbing fleet from her position on the small island. Christy’s plan had worked: the refugees were warm and dry. In the process, Deb’s fears had proven prescient as the banks of the Maumee were now lined with hunters as far as she could see in both directions. A Blackhawk periodically flew over the area, doing nothing but keeping an eye on the situation as the flesh-eaters rested in the snow drifts. When the horde had first arrived the monsters had raised a ruckus, howling and testing the depths of the water near the stationary humans and their boats. Once they’d realized there was nothing they could do here but keep watch, most of the creatures had settled down, and the helicopter was apparently content to maintain the status quo for the time being.

  Christy slowly approached the brooding Deb, pulling her parka even more tightly about her head as a stray gust of wind blew a few stinging bits of snow into her face. “Hey, stop worrying about the hunters; we’re dry and we have food.”

  “Mrs. McCrory the only one we lost?”

  “Yeah,” Christy quietly answered. “She was eighty-six, Deb, and was fighting some sort of respiratory infection before we evacuated.”

  “I know,” Deb sighed, “but I wish she didn’t have to pass away out here on an island in subzero temperatures.”

  “Me too, but it could have been a lot worse. You did good getting everybody here; we should all be hunter-poop by now.”

  “We might be yet,” Deb suggested. “How long will our food last, two, maybe three days?”

  “Something will break our way,” Christy countered. “Vicksburg isn’t sitting still, and I have faith in Chuck. We just need to hold on until the cavalry arrives.”

  “We will, but what difference is a squad of soldiers gonna make against these thousands all around us?”

  “Hey,” Christy good-naturedly bumped Deb’s shoulder. “I heard all the stories about the Battle of the Castle. You guys were overrun, and spent the night in the buildings surrounded by an army of infected.”

  “We did,” Deb yielded a small smile. “I was pretty worried then, too, and I trusted that Jack and Carter were gonna save the day.”

  “Yeah?” Christy smiled back. “Well maybe they’re gonna save the day again when they get here.”

  Deb looked sadly into Christy’s eyes. “People trusted me in Fort Wayne, even when I ordered them to evacuate in the middle of a blizzard. Somebody snuck in and blew our wall under my watch. A platoon from Utah died defending the breach, and Andi ended up captured. Ten more people have died on the river, and the only thing keeping me sane is the hope that Ted got the kids safely onto the train to Vicksburg.”

  Christy slowly shook her head before explaining, “You’re looking at this the wrong way. We all could have, probably should have, died last night. Your leadership, the decisions you made under immense pressure, saved almost seven hundred lives despite a brilliantly executed enemy plan. This is war, Deb, and people die in war. A good leader figures out a way to keep as many of their people alive as possible while still accomplishing the mission. You did just that, and I’m damn proud of you.”

  Deb reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Okay, I’ll look at it that way, but I think I know now why Carter has nightmares sometimes. Listen, talk to people and see what ideas they might have for getting out of this mess. If help comes, we’ll take it, but if not, we’re gonna have to save ourselves.”

  Christy smiled triumphantly, “You got it, Deb.”

  Everyone on the helicopter was wide awake, checking over their equipment one last time after Chuck had announced that they were fifty miles from the Maumee, and closing fast from the south. Carter had moved a bit forward, toward the cockpit, in order to use the radio he hoped to contact Deb with; as he vacated his seat, Jack saw that his buddy had brought the .50 caliber BMG along.

  “Carter,” he demanded, “what the hell you bring that thing for? You gonna carry it all the way to the island?”

  “Hey dummy, don’t even try to act like I don’t know what I’m doin’. How many times I save yer ass over in the big sandbox?”

  “Uh, never,” Jack replied with a note of irritation. “I’m not kidding around; why did you bring that heavy bastard along?”

  “Two words, professor: Black Hawks.”

  Jack just stared at Carter with astonishment for several seconds. “You are the stupidest son-of-a-bitch I ever met.”

  “Look, we already brought one chopper down with this piece, and sent a few others runnin’ with their tails ‘tween their legs. Ya always tell me that a good commander has to think ‘bout what the enemy’s doin’ at all times. So ju
st what ya think we’re gonna find when we get to the river?”

  David interrupted the back and forth conversation. “I expect a lot of hunters to be shadowing the boats, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find a Blackhawk or two controlling the monsters.”

  Carter smirked at Jack and held his hands up in the air in a gesture that said, “Well?” Then, when Jack had no reply, hesent a different gesture to his old friend that said something entirely different before continuing on toward the radio.

  Deb heard the first transmission clear as a bell and excitedly replied, “Carter? Are you guys close?”

  “Yeah, honey, we’re only about ten minutes from the river. Where y’all at?”

  “Is David close by?”

  “Yeah, he can hear us; what ya need him fer? Why do ya want him when ya already got me on the line?”

  “He’ll know what I’m talking about down here.”

  Carter looked over at David to make sure he could hear everything, and as soon as the younger man nodded his understanding, Carter explained, “He’s good to go, baby. Tell us what’s goin’ on.”

  “Okay. We got jumped last night, not too long after we cleared the Hosey Dam. We lost nine people, and most of the survivors got soaked during the fight. So we tied off the boats on the Landin Road Bridge, and the old rail bridge a few hundred yards downstream. We built fires on the nearby islands and got our folks dried out. This morning, we’re surrounded by thousands of hunters on both sides of the river. Christy says there are a few more shallow areas ahead, so we’re worried we won’t make it through the next ambush. We need to know what you want us to do.”

  Carter raised his eyebrows and handed the mike to David. “Hey Deb, this is David here. Can you put Christy on?”

  “Sure, just a second.”

  David released a pent-up sigh of nervousness and worry when he heard his wife’s voice over the air. “David, you know where we’re at?”

  “Yep,” he answered. “You have any suggestions before we try to make a plan from up here?”