The Drowned: Deluge Book 1: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story)

by Kevin Partner

  “That’s twice, old fella,” he said, grunting with the effort. He kept himself as low to the ground as his back would allow, realizing he was in full view of the boat if anyone happened to be looking in his direction. But he hadn’t been able to let the dog drown.

  He and Jodi had followed Kujira’s lights as they’d moved along the coast, sometimes losing it for a few hours only for it to appear again as the road took them close to the water. Then it had anchored up after the sun had risen, and they’d crept to the bank to see if they could spot Tom or Ellie. As it happened, they’d seen both, but then Hector had been hurled into the water on the other side of the boat and disappeared.

  Patrick had given up hiding when the dog’s head broke the surface and he paddled desperately for the shore. When it became obvious that he wouldn’t make it, Reid had darted out from cover, getting ahead of Jodi for fear she’d dive in, and kept Hector’s nose above the water until he could reach the safety of dry land.

  Now, they hid behind a pickup that sat with two wheels in the water, looking out over what had been a retail park at the boat lying a hundred feet offshore.

  “Come on, boy,” Jodi said, as the dog, reviving a little, shook itself, showering her in cold water. She stroked it as Patrick watched the boat.

  “I don’t think anyone saw us,” he said.

  “Poor Lewis. He’s gonna be goin’ outta his mind.”

  Patrick turned around and sat with his back to the car fender. “Any ideas what we do next?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe we should go back to Douglasville and ask Williams for help.”

  Jodi shook her head. “Are you legit stupid? How will we know where the boat is? Besides, the only thing that’ll happen if we go back is he’ll take the truck off us.”

  “You’re right, but we can’t just keep following them. At some point, we’re going to run out of land and then we really will have lost them. And anyway…” He looked at her from under his eyebrows, as if nervous about her reaction.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Well, my job was to keep you safe and the best way to do that is to get you to your uncle.”

  Jodi shrugged. “Yeah, but they’re our crew.”

  “That’s not how it feels to me. We were the crew.”

  “No, not that kind of crew. Crew. Our posse. You know?”

  Patrick grimaced. “Do me a favor and talk in something like the Queen’s English, will you? And we’ve only known them for a week. We don’t owe them anything.”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  He sighed and began absentmindedly stroking the dog. “No, I suppose I don’t. So, what are we going to do? Follow them along the coast and hope something turns up?”

  “Not exactly. I reckon we should try to get aboard tonight.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, I am actually.”

  “I’ve counted at least three men on board.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Jodi!”

  “What?”

  “Be sensible. We can’t take on three men. They’re all armed and we haven’t got anything other than the shotgun, and we can’t take them all out with that.”

  “Look, I know it’s gnarly …I mean, risky. But they’re our friends. We gotta try to help them. And besides …”

  “What?”

  “My weed stash is onboard.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Relax! It’s all legal. We’ll go at ten.”

  “Why then?”

  “’Cause while you were rescuing Hector, I saw Tom. I stuck ten fingers up. We’re going tonight.”

  Chapter 19

  Mitch

  He was slowing them down, and he knew it. Josh had found a branch that Bobby cut down into a usable crutch/walking stick combo, but it took a while for him to get used to the rhythm of step, swing the leg, bring the stick through, step… And his good leg ached like hell now.

  They finally made it to top of the valley wall as the sun fell behind them, setting over a new sea that had drowned western California. Bobby looked back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the island where Maria waited, but it was lost behind the high ground that hid Pam’s house.

  He turned away and looked down the slope to the highway running parallel to the valley and heading to Santa Clarita. Assuming that was still above water.

  Hundreds of cars and trucks lay abandoned, dust covered, with shattered windows, doors wide and swinging in the breeze. Nothing moved.

  “Something’s been through here and cleared a lane,” he said. “Something big.”

  “I’m guessing military,” Tanta said.

  Eve gazed along the highway. “I hope so.”

  “Speak for yourself. I ain’t got no love for them, and I don’t s’pose they’ll be too happy to see me dressed like this.”

  Bobby nodded. “Yeah, we need to find you some clothes, or at least something to cover your jumpsuit. If they get close enough to smell you, they’ll have to put you out of your misery. Besides, how are they going to know you’re one of the good guys?” He said it only half mockingly, but Tanta’s expression darkened.

  “I know what I am, Bob. I just don’t see no sense in makin’ myself target practice. And I know I stink, but you’re gonna be grateful for those fish come supper time.”

  From here, they could see that in both directions, the highway ran through little folds of crumpled rock, like a concertina of browns and greens all merging as the light faded. “I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t go much farther today. I say we aim for that eighteen-wheeler.” He pointed down the slope and along where the big truck had come to rest across two lanes.

  “Looks like it’s been broken into,” Eve said doubtfully.

  Tanta shrugged. “I reckon they’ve all been broken into, but maybe we can make ourselves comfortable in the trailer. C’mon.”

  Bobby followed the others, stumbling down the rough slope until Josh took his hand and guided him step by step to the edge of the highway. “Thanks,” he said, as the boy jogged away to his mother.

  Now that they were down to the level of the road, he could see that just about every vehicle had been ransacked. Child seats, fragments of clothes and the detritus of a thousand glove boxes lay across the highway and it wasn’t long before Tanta had a coat to cover the upper part of his orange jumpsuit. It was too big for him, and the rain of a couple of nights ago had left it damp around the edges, but he looked less like a walking target as soon as he zipped it up.

  “Look!” Eve said, gesturing ahead at the highway, which ran gently downhill until it bent away out of sight. As Bobby squinted into the gathering gloom, he saw one, two, three flickers of fire.

  “I guess others are doing the same as us,” Bobby said. “Better keep our distance, just in case.”

  So, they stepped up their pace as much as Bobby could manage. Tanta had the shotgun and as they approached the empty trailer, he flipped off the safety and held it at waist height. The side was painted in red and white with the logo of a logistics company and the trailer’s doors were wide open.

  Tanta peered inside. “Anyone here?” he called, but the only response was his own voice echoing back.

  Bobby watched as he climbed inside, scanning left and right with the shotgun. “Someone’s been here recently,” he said. “There’s warm ashes and junk all over.”

  “Be careful,” Eve said. “Look, are you sure this is a good idea? We could be trapped.”

  “I’d rather be inside than out,” Bobby answered. “There’s only one way in, so we only need one person on guard at any time.”

  Tanta’s head appeared out of the trailer. “It’s clear. Don’t know where they went, but they ain’t here now. I vote we stay here.”

  “Hey, something moved!”

  Bobby swung around as Josh pointed under the trailer.

  “Are you sure, darling?” Eve asked, furrowing her brow as she peered into the darkness.

  “He’s got be
tter eyes than any of us,” Bobby said. “Tanta, pass me the shotgun.”

  “You better let me go,” the Indonesian said. “I can hold a gun in both hands and walk at the same time.”

  Bobby scowled, but stood back as Tanta climbed down and followed Josh’s directions to a point between two of the wheels.

  Something exploded from the darkness and Tanta fell backwards under a flurry of blows and unmistakably juvenile cries. In moments, he’d recovered and flung his attacker over, bringing the shotgun down to point at the ground.

  “Tanta!” Bobby yelled.

  “No, please! Don’t hurt her!” The voice came from farther into the gloom. “We don’t have no weapons, I swear.”

  Tanta stood perfectly still for a moment as Bobby limped over. “It’s a kid. Put the gun down.”

  “Don’t you hurt my paw-paw!” The small figure leaped up as soon as Tanta lowered the weapon and ran into the gap she’d come from.

  “You gotta come out!” Tanta called.

  Moments later, she reemerged, arm in arm with an old man whose gray hair seemed to catch the fading light, forming a kind of misty halo around his bald crown.

  “I’m sorry. We don’t mean any harm,” the man said. “I told Mary Ellen to just hide down here and let you folks be, but…”

  “Our stuff’s up there. I aiten’t goin’ nowhere without Moana.”

  Bobby kneeled uncomfortably down to her level. “Don’t worry, Mary Ellen, we won’t steal your things.”

  The old man gestured to Tanta. “I…I saw what he was wearing and I told Mary Ellen to hide.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Bobby said.

  “Perhaps we’d all be safer if we camped together tonight,” Eve said. “My name’s Eve, and this is my son Joshua. He was the one who saw you.”

  The young girl looked doubtfully at Josh, then up at her grandfather. “Okay. But don’t steal my stuff!”

  “Why would I want girl things?” Joshua sneered.

  As the old man and his granddaughter led Eve and Josh into the trailer, Tanta touched Bobby on the arm. “This is dangerous. We don’t know nothing about them.”

  “Yeah. But it’s an old man and a kid and, after all, we didn’t know you’re hero material before yesterday, did we?”

  She didn’t look much like Maria, but Bobby couldn’t help but see his daughter as Mary Ellen sat beside her grandfather, staring into the fire. The trailer was filled with the aroma of roasting fish as Tanta supervised the cooking of the two bass he’d caught before they’d broken camp. They tasted a whole lot better than the bony specimen Bobby had eaten earlier that day, but, even though their visitors refused their offer to share, there wasn’t enough to go around.

  Bobby sat with his back against the trailer’s wall between two fixing straps, and examined his foot. Despite keeping his weight off it, it looked as though it was opening up again, but the pine resin didn’t seem to have made it worse and, perhaps, by sealing the wound beneath, it might keep it all together and prevent it going bad for a little longer. He needed medical attention; he just hoped he could limp his way into Santa Clarita and find it there.

  The old man’s name was Mitch, and he surprised them by announcing that he was heading north, not south toward the city. “I spent long enough there to know I’d rather be somewhere else,” he said as he nibbled on a cookie under his granddaughter’s watchful gaze.

  “Why? What’s it like?” Eve said.

  “Is anyone in charge?”

  “Well, I guess you could say so. The city mobilized the National Guard, of course, and they’ve set up an emergency camp, but they give priority to their own citizens.”

  “What do you mean? Why do their people need help?”

  “Because most of the city is underwater. In fact, you can only go a few more miles down the highway before you’ll have to take a detour. Turn east at Castaic Lake, then head south. Watch out for bandits, though. They know the road south from Castaic is the only way, so they lie in wait and take from folks who have little enough.”

  Bobby put his foot carefully down. “Tell us about this emergency camp.”

  “It’s set up at Central Park, but I’m not sure how much better off the people who get in are. There’s thousands stuck on the outside.”

  “And who’s running the place?”

  Mitch scratched his stubbly beard. “Technically, it’s the mayor.”

  “Technically?”

  “Well, seems to me that he’s dancing to another tune. There’s this colonel. Regular army, but she’s heading up mainly part-timers. Leaves the mayor to handle the haystack while she maintains order. In her own way.”

  Eve looked from Bobby to Tanta. “Haystack? Is that a military term?”

  Mitch chuckled. “No, that’s just what everyone calls the place people go to try and find their family or friends. Haystack as in ‘needle in a’.”

  “And is anyone coordinating rescue missions?” Bobby asked.

  “I figure the colonel’s got more than enough on her hands without going looking for any more.”

  Bobby slumped back again.

  “But we’ve seen helicopters going over,” Eve said.

  “Yeah, I guess they’re on supply runs. Or maybe retcon missions. Look, I don’t know. We didn’t stay long. We’re headin’ north to where, God willin’, we’ll find my daughter—her mother—and the rest of her family.”

  Eve poked at the fire. Behind her, Tanta sat just inside the trailer door, looking into the darkness. Bobby was exhausted, but he knew he’d have to take a turn on watch. He looked at the Indonesian and wondered which of the two of them was more in the dark: the one staring out into the night or the one who had no idea what to do next.

  Eve stirred first. “So, you’re traveling from the east?”

  “Southeast. I live in Palm Springs. Or I did. Nothing but an ocean now. It’s even worse farther west, I hear. LA gone. San Fran, San Diego. All under water. Can’t imagine many got away.”

  Bobby remembered the wall of water rearing above him on Ventura Pier as he and Maria ran for their lives. No, he couldn’t imagine many people escaped, especially from the coastal cities. The closer to the ocean they’d lived, the less their chance of having time to escape.

  And he was farther away from the straight path back to Maria now than he’d ever been.

  Chapter 20

  Santa Clarita

  They left Mitch and Mary Ann as the old man and his granddaughter prepared to head northeast in search of their family. As he watched the girl fade into the distance, Bobby felt panic grip him, as if he were seeing Maria being taken away by Hollick. He turned and almost ran to them. He could go the same way, walking toward Maria rather than away.

  And yet, the only way he could truly rescue her was to bring help. Which meant struggling on toward Santa Clarita. His only hope was to tell the authorities there of the little community stuck just outside where Ventura had once been. It was a faint hope; Mitch was probably right that they would have no time for a handful of people stuck on a little island. And it had been nearly a week since he’d swum away from his daughter.

  He would kill Hollick when he got back there. He made that promise to himself. Some betrayals couldn’t be forgiven.

  Filthy, garbage-strewn water cut across I-5 at Castaic, the tide line marked by a row of dying palm trees and a McDonald’s sign pockmarked with seagull droppings. They cut across to their left, following an obvious path made by those that had gone before them over the past week.

  They walked past the drive-through and headed toward the distant hills on the horizon. The parking lot of the shopping center looked like the aftermath of a music festival; trash distributed around the remains of campfires made in the shelter of cars pushed together.

  Bobby limped along, following Tanta as they picked their way through. He watched as the Indonesian reacted to every movement, bringing the shotgun up to track the target until it moved out of view. There were people here. The sea had
cut Castaic in half, and many of its survivors had either evacuated or hunkered down. But, every now and again, they would see movement between the vehicles or in the deserted and looted mall.

  They passed beside half drowned houses on one side and a rise with more houses above them on the other, following a narrow path toward more water ahead of them. Bobby would have begun to doubt Mitch’s story if it wasn’t for the fact that many others had come this way, the evidence of their passing obvious in the litter and the worn-down earth.

  “We can fill our bottles here,” Tanta said, pointing at the rippling water. “It’s fresh.”

  “How do you know?”

  He pointed up at a sign that said Castaic Lagoon. “I tried it. No salt. Pretty lucky; it must be close to the new sea level.”

  Bobby got clumsily to his knees and refilled his plastic bottles, while the others did the same. “We’re going in the wrong direction. I hope Mitch was right.”

  Eve put her hand on his forehead. “You’re getting warm again. We should check your foot before we go any farther.”

  “No way,” he said. In truth, he’d noticed the fever’s return overnight and he could feel the tenderness in his foot again, but he had no desire to go through the pain he’d experienced the previous day again. “I’ll have it treated when we get to Santa Clarita.”

  “If you get there.”

  He ignored her, pulled himself upright with Josh’s help, and began limping along the shore of the lake.

  They were finally able to turn south an hour later. A raised patch of land marking the previous bank of the lake curved round between it and a vast sea bounded by brown and green mountains. As they crossed, Bobby imagined that anyone looking at them from a distance would see five humans walking on water.

  In the distance, Bobby could see another group walking, heads bowed, south. The land was rising here, and, turning west, Bobby made out the half-submerged city of Castaic in its valley as they climbed winding roads in a green countryside where it was possible, for a little while, to imagine that none of this had happened.