Dark Rhodes: Book 1 of the Ashleigh Rhodes Chronicles

by Michael Canon

  I laid there for a few minutes until the bones healed and the locals lost interest in me. Standing up, I slowly made my way across the beach. I moved towards the wreck, in the erratic, lethargic movements of an unstimulated George. The Hunters in the area raised their noses to the sky like they were trying to figure out a new scent. It took me another 30 grueling minutes to make it to the wreckage.

  Arriving at the wreck, I fell down on top of it, just as I’d seen other Georges fall, then slowly got back up. When stood up, my M4 was on my back. Pushing my luck, I fell down again, this time to get my backpack. I slipped into the straps and started to stand, as a giant wave of ice-cold North Atlantic seawater washed across my back! I barely stifled the scream as the frigid water soaked me from head to toe.

  I knew my movements after getting drenched had to be completely un-George-like. The zombies around me were becoming very agitated. They knew something was amiss, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Three nearby Hunters were looking right at me. I was sure they knew I wasn’t one of them. A lot of the zombie goop had been washed off, and I was betting they could smell the real me. I could just hear Hank up on the deck with her NVGs, saying, “I told you so!”

  The nearby Hunters started advancing towards me, but stopped and turned towards the ship. It took me a few moments to figure out why they were suddenly more interested in the ship than me.

  Over the crash of the waves, and moaning of the undead, I heard meowing! Seeing Hank on the bow, I followed the rope she was holding down the side of the ship to see the same big orange Tom Cat I met in the cargo hold. He was in a small, glow stick illuminated cage hanging about 12 feet above the beach, meowing for all he was worth. His moment as the zombie Pied Piper was the break I needed. I immediately headed for another rope hanging off the side of the ship near the waterline.

  I was walking much faster than before, but I still tried to maintain a zombie-esque look to my movements. Hearing a few Hunters scream in my general direction, I knew my ruse was over. Without bothering to look, I sprinted the last 20 feet and jumped as high up the rope as I could reach, and climbed. Falling more than climbing over the railing, I collapsed on the deck. The big cat jumped up on my chest, chirping, meowing and purring loudly to welcome me back.

  As I scrubbed on him, I said, “I know, I know, the bad, bad lady was going to feed you to all those nasty zombies, you poor innocent kitty cat,” while looking at Hank with an impish grin.

  While giving me the finger, and smiling, she said, “The cat’s name is Mr. Crowley. Nice jump, glad to see you made it you crazy-ass moron. I told you, but did you listen to Ole’ Swede, nope, you sure as Hell didn’t. You didn’t listen, and your ass almost got eaten in the same way as those TV show fools! Hope your pea-shooter was worth it.” This was the moment we moved from Hank and Ashleigh to Swede and Ash.

  After a hot shower, and some dry clothes, I headed down to the ship’s machine shop to service my M4. I completely disassembled and cleaned the rifle while Swede and Mr. Crowley watched. The big orange cat had become my shadow since he came to my rescue.

  I surveyed the rest of my gear, cleaning everything in the process. The 5.56 ammo looked fine, but the 40mm grenades had not fared well during their prolonged exposure to seawater. I thought they might be okay, but I wasn’t going to chance it. I set them aside to toss back into the ocean that had already claimed them once.

  38

  I had been on board the Ardent Venture for about two weeks. Swede had explained she was curt and indifferent in the beginning because she was worried I’d turn into a zombie and either I would kill her, or she’d kill me. She was a wonderfully kind-spirited person, with one huge flaw. She loved zombie crap as much as my demented father and brother! She went into multiple descriptive narratives about what was wrong with this movie, or that TV show. It was like growing up with it all over again! I guess this time was different because some of the information could be used to survive.

  She also loved her time in the Navy but was saddened that for most of her career, she had to hide her sexual preference in order to serve her country.

  I questioned her, “But you told me you were married twice?”

  While Swede taught me how to play Spades and Gin Rummy, she explained, “Yep, good men - both of them. I tried to “play it straight,” but it never worked out. I even told the second guy about my choices. I think all my time away was more than he could take vs. who I chose to share my life with. We’re still friends, well we were. Not sure he’s alive now. Life on board the Ardent Venture was more relaxed, open and honest. You still get talked about behind your back, or even to your face, with jokes and such, but there was still much more acceptance. I could be who I am.”

  The three of us got into a routine. After breakfast, we would head up to the bridge and listen to the radio, while Mr. Crowley sunned himself in the large windows. For the first week we tried to contact anyone from the Lazarus Group, never getting a hold of anyone.

  Our contact with others stopped abruptly after we heard from a lot of survivors out there who were not as altruistic as Swede and I. We still listened, we just didn’t transmit or respond. There’s only so many times you can hear someone explain in vivid detail how they are going to find you, rape you, and kill you before you go radio silent. I was very disturbed at how quickly the zombies stopped being the only two-legged predators in our dangerous new world.

  About a week after I arrived, we heard a frantic radio call for help from someone.

  A young male voice said,

  “….I’m in Norwell, near Torrey Pond, I need help. They got my mom and sister. They ain't like the other ones, these ones came out of the water near our house.”

  Another, older voice said,

  “Whada-ya mean “They came outta the water! Zombies don’t swim!”

  The young male responded,

  “No, they didn’t swim, they jumped outta the water. They were all dark green and slimy lookin’. We were at the pond, getting some water to boil in the fireplace when they jumped out and grabbed my mom and Katie. I’m alone now, I’m so scared.”

  I wanted to help, but even pre-apocalypse, Norwell was a boat ride and almost an hour’s drive by car from our location. Swede and I looked at each other with resigned expressions at the young man’s loss.

  She said, “That’s enough for today.” As she turned off the radio with a sad sigh.

  39

  I have to say, being on a functioning cargo ship was a great place to ride out a zombie apocalypse. The ship’s fuel tanks had been filled before the Venture left the docks. This meant we had a lot of fuel for the ship’s onboard generators. The generators gave us a working water filtration and treatment system, lights, and heat. The sheer size of the ship made it impossible for the zombies to get to us, to the point they began ignoring us when they saw us up on deck.

  We raided many of the accessible cargo containers for supplies. Searching the containers was like opening a giant birthday present. Sometimes they were filled with stuff we couldn’t use. Like the container filled with novelty toys, gag gifts, party favors, and really cheap sex toys. That container, quite a few bottles of wine, and two women made for a hilarious couple of evenings of opening all the boxes.

  We found a container full of various canned foods, which along with the Venture’s galley stores, was more than enough to hold us over for a very long time. Another contained four Zodiac inflatable boats, including the motors. With a small compressor from the machine shop, we had the air chambers on all four filled in no time. We moved them to different parts of the ship and mounted the motors in case of an emergency, but we were short on gas. We had a little for the ship’s small inflatable dinghy, but it wasn’t much.

  Swede and I both liked being on deck as much as February in New England would allow.

  We were sunning ourselves one afternoon, talking about life, pre-, and post-zombie, when Swede said, “Wouldn’t it be a hoot to strap a walkie-talkie to Shuffler’s back, talk int
o it, and see what happens? I get the giggles just thinking about their dead asses spinning around trying to catch themselves!”

  I shot out of my pilfered lawn chair like someone kicked me in the ass, and said, “Swede, you are a friggin genius! Meet me in the machine shop in two hours!” as I kissed her forehead and took off.

  I ran through the ship until I arrived at the container that had all the cheap novelty toys and such. It took me about 20 minutes to find what I was looking for. I grabbed a bunch and headed to the machine shop.

  Two hours later Swede walked into the machine shop to see me sitting on the table with a huge smile on my face and a medium-sized hard rubber ball in my right hand. I held it out to Swede, who said, “You made a ball?” looking at me like I was nuts.

  Still smiling, I said, “Throw it.” as an explanation.

  Shrugging, Swede threw the ball across the room. The ball hit the wall and started screaming in my voice, “Help me! Get away from me! She’s gonna eat me!” along with a host of screams mixed in.

  Swede smiled but looked confused and said, “What the heck are you going to do with that?”

  I replied, “It’s a zombie lure. They are so attuned to sound, I thought it might help distract them when we need their focus elsewhere.”

  Swede’s musical laughter filled the room, “A zombie lure, how’d you do it?”

  I handed her a small, flat box, and said, “Your walkie-talkie idea. It’s a recording box that slips inside a stuffed toy that goes off when it’s bumped or squeezed. There are tons of them in that container we drank in the other night. You can record a 30-second message on it. I just wrapped it in plastic to keep it dry and put it in a hard rubber ball with some packing peanuts to keep it stable. I drilled a few holes in the ball to help let the sound out too. Let’s go up top and test it!”

  A storm moved in while we were down in the machine shop. The noise from a light rain helped quiet our movements as we crept across the small bow deck. I felt like a giant walking banana covered head to toe in one of the ship’s full rain gear ensembles, but it did its job of keeping us dry. The beach was still littered with hundreds of standing zombies, many of them had their heads tipped back, but I couldn’t figure out why. They weren’t moving very much as they stood on the beach. I guessed this was to conserve energy.

  “They’re looking a little ragged, wouldn’t you say? Is it me or are there fewer Shufflers, or Georges as you call ‘em?” questioned Swede.

  I started to assess their numbers, when a pack of five or six Hunters attacked a large female George, knocking her to the ground, and tearing her apart.

  “Guess that answers your question about the George headcount. Looks like survival of the fittest is the order of business in the zombie world.” I responded.

  The Hunters finished their grisly meal quickly and to the zombie walked over to the ocean and washed the carnage off their hands and bodies. Most defecated and cleaned themselves while they were in the water.

  Swede tapped my arm and said, “Never seen ‘em clean themselves up like that either. Guess it’s hard to hunt if they can smell ya’ coming. Let’s see how well your lure works.”

  I nodded, “Guess we know why they are nude too.” as I slowly stood up. I aimed for a large group of Georges that had huddled together about 150 feet from the feeding Hunters. I thought, “Schooling, for protection.” as I let the ball fly.

  The ball hit one of the Georges in the head and started talking and screaming. The effect was instantaneous. The Georges in the area were instantly active, moaning and bumping into each other in an attempt to find the source.

  While the Georges just became more agitated, the Hunters became aggressively hostile. The Hunters in the area tore through the bumbling Georges in an attempt to find the source of the screaming. The ball continued to scream and talk as it was bumped or moved by the zombies around it, creating an almost self-sustaining frenzy of the undead. Hunters turned on Georges, as well as other Hunters as they became more frustrated at being unable to find the source of the sound.

  The ball must have been damaged in the chaos because it stopped screaming abruptly. Other than a few Hunters who were still feeding on some unfortunate brethren, the other zombies quickly returned to their semi-catatonic state.

  The temperature was dropping quickly, turning the rain into snow. Moving below deck to get out of the weather, Swede exclaimed, “Oh Ash! That was brilliant! Let’s go make some more!”

  I was very pleased with the results of our little experiment. The lure worked better than I thought it would. With some minor improvements, it would be even better. I thought the theory could be applied to other items like car radios, MP3 players, even smartphones. Anything that could transmit, or play a short recording. By adding the device to something that moved, there's a good chance you could clear a whole area of zombies.

  The undead had strength and numbers on their side. It was time for us to start using our intelligence to even the playing field. We learned a lot of important information about our new undead enemy today. I reminded myself to find a journal to help keep track of everything.

  40

  It was a few mornings later, I couldn’t sleep so I went out on the small deck on the starboard side of the ship – I think Swede called it a bridge wing deck. I was looking towards the shoreline. The light of the morning winter sun bathed the land in a subdued yellow glow. I felt so helpless, so alone. I barely knew Martin, Connor, and Nikki, but they were so genuine I felt like I’d known them for years. I knew I was going to have to leave eventually. I shivered at the thought of having to cross 90% of the country after a zombie apocalypse by myself. I heard Swede and Crowley join me on the deck. Over the last few days, Swede caught me looking towards the shoreline more than once.

  “Looks like you’re getting the wanderlust, child. How’s about you help me get some more gas for the Zodiacs, then get on your way back to Tucson?”

  I shook my head no, and said, “I’m not going to leave you here all alone, Swede. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Her musical laughter was so loud it piqued the interest of some of the undead below, who countered her laugh with a chorus of moans and growls.

  “Child, I’m over 50 years old with 37 years of hard mileage on this body. I’d do nothing but slow you down and make it harder for you to keep safe. This boat is my home until the end.”

  I shook my head no, and said, “What happens if a nor’easter or hurricane come through here?”

  “Why would you being here make the outcome any different?” she replied.

  “Because I can help you, keep you safe.”

  She laughed again and said, “Baby, I’ve been keeping myself safe for a long time now, I think can manage just fine on my own.”

  I sat and thought for a moment and said, “Myers has a house close by in Weymouth. It’s in a suburban neighborhood, that might not have as many undead. The house is a fortress. It has a well, solar panels, a giant underground propane tank, a room full of disaster supplies, and an armory. How about we check it out tomorrow after we get gas for the Zodiacs? You can use it as a fallback location if the Venture becomes unsafe.”

  Swede looked at me for a long moment, her eyes tearing up and said, “Ashleigh Marie Rhodes, your folks did a fine job with you, a fine job indeed. I love you like you were my own. We’ll go check out this house in Weymouth if it helps you move on with a clear conscience.”

  The next day it was an unusually warm and calm day for the northeast during the winter months. We decided to take advantage of it by going to look for more fuel. Working at the open cargo door on the starboard side, we filled the tank on the Zodiac we had previously stationed there. We were planning to head to a yacht club in Quincy, MA to look for more gas. Swede thought the club was about a mile from our ship and offered us the best chance for gas with as little exposure as possible.

  A massive groan issued forth from the Venture, followed by the ship tipping severely to port. Swede and I fell to
the deck, as the containers in the hold slid to port. We could hear the booming crashes as containers tumbled off the side of the ship. A chorus of moans and screams from the undead added to the chaos as containers continued to crash into the water and onto the beach.

  “Get the Zodiac into the water!” yelled Swede, as she tried to stand on the tipping floor.

  “She must have been taking in water and got too heavy for the sand and gravel under her! Dammit! I should have kept an eye on how much she was settling aft! We need to abandon ship before she death rolls!”

  I quickly secured my M4 and backpack in the boat and was amazed when Mr. Crowley jumped into the little basket Swede had put in there for him. I untied the rope on the hoist and lowered it into the water. I hoped there was enough slack in the rope if the Venture went all the way over.

  I turned to see what Swede needed from me and felt the ship move again, violently aft then it rolled more to port. As I tried to steady myself, something broke free from a container and slammed into me. I felt multiple bones break, and my vision dimmed from the impact to my head. I heard Swede scream out in fear and then pain as I was hit again. The ship continued to move to port and aft. I was afraid we’d be pulled offshore and sunk. As I fell to the port side wall, I knew my body was severely damaged. I could usually feel when the accelerated healing process kicked in, but not this time.

  The Venture stopped moving for the moment. I saw Swede and slowly, painfully, dragged my broken body over to her. She was trapped from the knees down under a giant piece of shop equipment.

  She looked over at me with teary, pain filled eyes and said, “I think I’m done Ashleigh, you gotta get the Hell out of here, Baby.”

  I shook my head no, sending bolts of pain through my brain and body, and said, “I can’t, I got hit by something. I’m too broken, looks like my body can’t heal this much damage. I think this is it for both of us.”