by Jon Schafer
The diesel engine roared as Jimmy hit the accelerator and headed down the street. Seeing a group of Z’s feeding on someone near the curb, he swerved and ran them over. The .50 caliber heavy machine gun manned by Fagan barked first, so he only rolled over dead lumps of meat. Following Fagan’s directions, they picked up seven soldiers. An eighth flagged them down as they headed back to base camp, but she was covered in the black slime that the dead had for blood. Knowing that the woman was infected, Jimmy sped by as Fagan exploded her head with a burst from the .50.
As they pulled up to the base camp, Jimmy could see it was swarming with activity. They were waiting in a long line of vehicles to enter when he noticed the armed men and women lining the perimeter. When they finally reached the gate, Jimmy asked the guard what was going on. He was informed that everyone had been pulled back and the orders were to hold in place. No more incursions into New Orleans were authorized until further notice.
He started to ask what was going on, but the MP only waved his hand and said, “Now move that piece of shit. You’re blocking traffic.”
After he parked the Stryker, Jimmy helped one of the men they’d picked up get to the aid station. He’d broken his leg when he’d jumped down on top of the Stryker from a third story balcony. That had been the hairiest pick up, since the area was swarming with Z’s. Jimmy had to make three passes; running down the dead while Fagan took out dozens with his .50. After twenty minutes of this, he could finally pull the Stryker below the stranded soldier without being overrun.
The medics were busy with the flood of wounded coming in as soldiers stood nearby with their weapons ready. Everyone was being stripped down to his or her underwear and examined for bites before being treated. Once checked, they were treated for non-Z wounds or shot in the head if they had been infected.
As he was helping the wounded man get his pants over his broken leg, from behind him Jimmy heard the crack of a .45. Not even turning to look, he knew someone had been eliminated. The soldier he was helping had been facing in that direction and had seen the MP step up behind a woman and shoot her in the back of the head. Jimmy could see the look of fear on his face, so in a soft voice, he said, “You’ll be okay, Troop. It’s just a broken leg and you ain’t no horse.”
A medic approached and examined the man for bites before helping him to his feet. Not wanting to be pressed into duty here, Jimmy edged to the entrance of the triage tent and ducked out. He’d left Fagan at the Stryker, so with no one around to tell him what to do next, he went in search of food. Still new to the camp, he wandered through the confusion caused by the recent activity of the dead. All around him, he could hear people speculating about what was happening.
He could tell them in a few simple words; the dead were getting smart and the living were getting screwed.
Following his nose to one of the mess tents scattered across the compound, he joined the line of soldiers waiting for food. He knew this wasn’t his assigned place to eat but no one questioned him. He sat down with his tray and had just raised his fork to his mouth when a voice said, “You did good out there today, Troop. We saved a lot of guys.”
Looking up, he found Staff Sergeant Fagan had taken the seat across from him. Only wanting to eat and not get into some kind of after game replay, he said sarcastically, “So what, do I get a medal or something?”
Fagan laughed. “If someone gives you a medal, they want you to die for them.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out three loaded magazines and set them on the table saying, “But if they give you ammunition, they want you to live.”
Jimmy looked at the magazines for a moment before putting them in his pocket. He’d thought the Sergeant was just another ball busting regular army hack, but now he had to rethink this.
After thanking him, he said, “We did what we had to.”
“Yeah, but it got us some recognition,” Fagan told him.
“So I do get a medal,” Jimmy said with a laugh, relaxing now.
“Not quite,” Fagan replied. “But that guy you helped to the aid station with the broken leg, he’s the son of the General commanding this herd. When we picked him up, he’d been stuck for hours. He had a radio with him and called in to talk to daddy, telling him what to do with all his stuff since he knew he wasn’t going to make it back. Seems the Z’s ambushed his team just like they did ours. He lost twelve men and barely made it out of the building. He couldn’t go down since the street was full of the dead, and he definitely couldn’t go back inside, so he hid out on that balcony. It was only a matter of time before he was spotted and eaten.”
“So what does that mean for me?” Jimmy asked.
“For us,” Fagan said with a grin as he motioned toward the sound of explosions from the airstrikes being called in on the city. “We’re being transferred. Seems there’s a research center in Arkansas that lost some of their security people. Normally they only transfer out of there to fight in the Dead Cities, but the General is so grateful we saved his son that he’s making an exception. From what I could find out, it’s sweet duty. No more bombing, no more searching for the dead in little shit-hole apartments and stores, no more wondering if you’re going to get bitten or have to shoot the guy next to you in the head if he gets bitten…”
Jimmy ignored this list of dangers as Fagan droned on about all the ways to die on Dead Duty. He was trying to calculate how much further away Arkansas was from Owens Grove, the town where what was left of family might be. After being posted to New Orleans, his plan was to desert as soon as possible and make his way home. With the electrified fence surrounding the base though, he quickly realized this would be impossible. It might be there to keep the dead out, but it also kept him in. Every time he went out on a patrol, others surrounded him, limiting his choices to killing them and taking off or waiting for a better option. After his first few missions into New Orleans, he also realized that he needed to learn how to survive; this is the only thing that spared the lives of the others on his team.
Now it looked like another option had been handed to him.
CHAPTER SIX
The Battleship Texas:
When Steve, Heather and Tick-Tock climbed up the cargo net and over the rail, they expected to be met with suspicion. What they didn’t know was that the news of someone coming to save them had spread through the ship like wildfire and they were being seen as saviors rather than strangers.
Immediately crowded by the under-fed, unwashed people that populated the ship, Steve saw Sean but didn’t see the woman. He asked where she was since she seemed to be the one in charge, but no one heard him as his voice was lost in the clamor of people thanking him and asking questions of their own.
Tick-Tock edged away from the crowd and leaned against the rail, letting Steve and Heather deal with the refugees. For one thing, he wasn’t into the whole saving their ass thing in the first place, and for another, they smelled. They all seemed to be wearing new clothes, but it was like they hadn’t bathed in weeks. Looking into an open hatch in the side of the superstructure, he could see someone standing there. As she stepped out, he saw it was the woman Steve had made the deal with.
He took a moment to study her as she approached and could see that, unlike the rest of the people on the ship, she took care of herself. Her long brown hair had been recently washed and her clothes were clean. As she drew near, he even picked up a pleasant lilac scent coming off her as opposed to body odor.
She stopped a few feet away, holding her carbine by its pistol grip, its stock folded back. Using her free hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, she said, “My name’s Denise.”
“Mine’s Tick-Tock.” Pointing to where his friends were now fielding questions about who they were and where they came from, he said, “And that’s Steve and Heather.”
Denise nodded and said, “Welcome aboard.”
They fell silent as they took each other in. Up close, Tick-Tock could see a spray of freckles across the bridge of her sun burnt nose and cheeks. H
er brown hair was straight and fairly long, framing her face. Looking at the M-1, he could see it was old, maybe even World War II issue. She wore camouflage pants and a baggy t-shirt, but he could still see she had a nice figure. Her piercing green eyes told him this was one woman who didn’t take any shit.
With this in mind, he decided not to voice his concerns about her group being dead weight. Motioning to the carbine, he said, “That’s interesting. You don’t see too many of those around anymore.”
Lifting it slightly, she replied, “It was my grandfather’s. He passed it down to my father.”
She didn’t say anything else, so Tick-Tock added, “And he passed it down to you?”
Tilting her head slightly, she said, “In a way. I took it off his body after the dead killed and ate him, and then used it to kill them all.”
This one definitely doesn’t take any shit, Tick-Tock decided.
Pointing to where Brain had anchored The Usual Suspects after dropping them off, she asked, “How soon can we head upriver?”
With a small sigh, Tick-Tock replied, “We’ve been through a lot recently. We had a run in with some pirates out in the Gulf and a bunch of Z’s when we came through the pass. We we’re planning to lay up here for a few days and rest.”
With a shake of her head, Denise said, “Not a good idea.”
She saw Tick-tock raise an eyebrow in question, so added, “The ship’s sinking.”
With a laugh, Tick-Tock said, “Again?” Turning to where Steve and Heather were trying to extract themselves from the refugees, he called out, “You’re not going to believe this shit.”
***
Steve, Heather and Tick-Tock stood around Denise as she explained, “It’s the pumps. They were failing long before Dead Day. They were always doing fundraisers to try and keep the Texas afloat because it was a state monument. They did manage to install two new pumps but those are going out. They never had enough money for good equipment, so they bought some cheap, knock off crap from China and the housings are cracking. I need intake valves for both units but can’t find them. They pour almost as much water back into the hull as they do over the side. I’ve been up and down the river looking for replacements but can’t find shit.”
She motioned to where the rest of the people were standing around Sean and added with a slight tone of derision, “That’s between going out to find food and water for us.”
“No one helped you?” Tick-Tock asked.
With a half smile, Denise replied quietly, “They aren’t the most capable group.”
Steve wanted to find out more and was about to question her when Sean interrupted by saying, “You said you had water? That was part of the deal. Where is it?”
Seeing him standing in front of the group of refugees, he replied, “Yeah, we do. We wanted to check the situation out first though. I’ll have someone send it up in a minute.”
One of the men in the crowd called out, “What about food? We need food too.”
Sean stepped forward and said, “Some of us haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.”
Steve looked at the refugees, noticing how thin and dirty they were, and then looked at Denise who seemed fairly well fed and clean. He asked her, “What gives? Why are they so messed up and you’re in such good shape?”
Before she could answer, Sean said, “She won’t share.”
Denise faced him and replied with contempt, “Bullshit. I’m the only reason you’re even alive at all. I told you time and again that if you want to eat more, you have to pitch in and help. I give you enough to live off of, and you won’t get anything else unless you help. Every day I go out on the river scavenging, and not one of you will go with me because you’re all too scared.” Surprising everyone by spitting on the deck in Sean’s direction, she added, “And none of you will even carry a gun.”
Steve could see by the way Sean let it roll right over him that this was a regular argument between the two of them. As if talking to a child, Sean said, “We’ve gone over all that before, Denise. This is supposed to be a collective, where everyone’s equal. You knew that when you joined us. You are a provider and we are busy making the rules and regulations that will bring America back to the power it once was. And you know we won’t kill. It goes against all our moral principles to kill.”
“Kill, my ass,” she shot back. “Those things are already dead.”
Ignoring this, Sean continued, “And besides, we all have jobs. You do yours and we do ours.”
“Yeah, you and your fucking committees,” she laughed. Turning back to Steve, she said, “You’ve met Sean and me, so I guess I should introduce you to the rest of the group.”
With a wave of her hand, she took in the disheveled group and said sarcastically, “These are ten of the great former State of California’s legislature and their aides, every last one of them a bleeding heart, do-nothing. They were here in Houston on a fact finding mission on how to spend your tax dollars on the mating rituals of the tsetse fly or some shit -.”
“It was a study on how to enhance the lives of un-documented immigrants by giving them more money for education,” Sean interrupted as murmurs of assent issued from the people behind him. “We were here to convince the legislature of Texas that it was in their best interest to cooperate. Those poor downtrodden people who cross our border from the south shouldn’t have to work while enduring the rigors of school. We were putting together a bill that gives them a stipend of two thousand dollars a month for living expenses and pays all their college expenses.”
This struck a nerve in Tick-Tock, who said, “Wait, wait, wait. I went to college and worked full time while I was doing it. Plus, I’m a veteran. No one ever gave me two grand a month. I got some help for school because I served my country, but it barely paid for my tuition and books, and you wanted to just give our money away to lawbreakers?”
Waving his hand in dismissal, Sean said, “That’s neither here nor there. You grew up in the lap of luxury.”
Tick-Tock’s hands bunched into fists and he took a step forward saying, “How the fuck do you know how I grew up?”
Denise saved Sean by saying, “Like I was telling you, they were here in Houston when the virus broke out. A lot of people got evacuated or headed out, but they stayed since things were even worse in California.”
“Mind if I tell my own story?” Sean asked.
Denise flashed him a condescending look, but he continued, “Everything was going crazy and no one would help us. The airports had shut down and there wasn’t a limo to be rented for a thousand miles. One of the local senators who was sponsoring our bill thought it might be safer out on the water, so he invited us to go with him on his yacht.”
“He actually had two of them, inherited both,” one of the others added with a chuckle.
Sean nodded and went on, “We were out on his boats, anchored just up the river from here, when one of the guests went crazy and started biting people. A couple of deckhands managed to restrain him, but then someone else died and came back and everyone started jumping overboard. I dove in and swam for the other boat but I could see they were having the same trouble. The captain himself had a woman bent over the table on the back deck and was ripping her apart with his teeth. Someone got that boat started, and they took off with everyone screaming and people jumping off. The anchor was dragging behind them and it must have caught on something. The yacht stopped suddenly with a jerk that pulled the whole front of the boat down. Then the rope broke and they started moving again but something was seriously wrong. As they were moving out into the river, the boat was slowly sinking. A few more people made it off before it went down, but that was it. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and made my way to shore. I joined up with some of the others from our party, and we walked through the park until we came to the Battleship. There was no around so we came aboard.”
Denise picked up the narrative by saying, “And that’s where I found them. They were starving and out of water. They h
ad somehow managed to drop the walkway and get one of the pontoons and that mini-tug boat, but they wouldn’t use them to go out to scavenge because they were too scared of the biters.”
“And where did you come from?” Tick-Tock asked.
After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “Houston. After the train yards and one of the refineries blew up, I tried to get to my parents’ house down by the river but kept running into all these roadblocks. I10 was a parking lot and the National Guard, or the locals with their dumbass barricades, had cut off all the side roads. All the cell phones and landlines were down, so I couldn’t get hold of my dad. I heard them reading a list of relief centers on the radio, so I tried heading for the one nearest to where they live. That place was a madhouse and I couldn’t find them, so I left. Mom and Dad are pretty self-sufficient, so I really didn’t think they’d be there, but I had to check. I tried I10 again, thinking I could drive down the shoulder since I had a four wheel drive truck, but the Guard wasn’t letting anyone get on. Didn’t really matter anyway since it was packed wall to wall with cars. After about three hours, I finally made it to their house through some side streets.”
She looked down at the deck briefly before saying, “But I was too late, they were both…gone. I took this,” she held up the M1, “some food, water and their pontoon boat. I was going up the river and looking for a place to tie up, but everywhere I tried was full of those things. Sometimes a dock or a pier would look deserted, but as soon as I pulled in it flooded with the dead. I remembered that the Texas was moored here, so I came this way.”
Pointing toward Sean, she said, “That’s when I ran into him.”
“And we made a deal,” Sean said smugly.
“Yeah, we made a deal,” Denise said reluctantly. “I agreed to provide them food, water and protection if they let me on board.”