by Howard, Bob
The taste in his mouth was unbelievable, and all he wanted was water. He didn’t care if it was rain water filled with mosquito larvae. With the group of infected back on its feet and moving their way, George stuck his whole head into a pool of water and tried to suck it in past the scarf.
The second time he threw up, Sherry didn’t have a chance to remove the scarf. Most of what came up went into his airway, and this time there was no whooping sound as he opened his mouth wide because air couldn’t get by the blockage. George began to thrash around on the bricks like a fish pulled from the ocean. He didn’t even hear the screams from his wife as the weight of an infected dead pushed her onto his squirming body just before its teeth found her right ear. He passed out when his lungs were too starved for air, so he didn’t feel the muscles in his right leg being torn free from the bone.
The mind works in ways that can’t be explained under normal circumstances, so it shouldn’t be surprising when abnormal circumstances cause abnormal reactions. Iris had always been a warrior, and she had been referred to as the female version of Chief Joshua Barnes, but even she had her limits.
Iris watched in numb horror from the entrance of the marina. She didn’t remember when she had pulled the blade free, and she didn’t remember yelling for the others to run because there were too many infected. Something told her the infected were being distracted away from them, and that was fine with her, but she never realized it was George and Sherry. Her survival instincts had won over her desire to protect the people who she cared for, and she felt beaten.
She backed away on legs that belonged to someone else and didn’t snap out of it until she felt the sunlight on her skin and a breeze that smelled of salt. When she turned to see where she was, the wrecked marina lay before her, and she remembered that they had found a pontoon boat on the far side. The sun was in her eyes, but she could see the torn canopy above the boat gently waving in the breeze. She was crying, and someone was arguing with her that only she could see.
“We should get to the boat while we still can,” said Sora.
Iris shook her head at him and said, “We can’t. We have to wait for Sherry and George. George is sick, and Sherry is helping him. They’ll be along at any minute.”
“They’re dead,” said a new voice. Sora was gone, but Yuni was standing where he had been. She had her machete above her head as if getting ready to protect her from something.
“Here they come now,” said Iris. She pointed toward the opening to the gardens where her good friends were emerging with a group of people she thought had stayed behind at the shelter.
She took several steps in their direction and waved at them. She wondered why they didn’t wave back.
“What’s wrong with them?” she asked Yuni, but Yuni was gone. The Chief was standing where Yuni and Sora Tanaka had been.
“Are they mad at me about something?”
Her subconscious was blaming her for all of their deaths, and maybe her subconscious was right. She couldn’t have guessed that George would be overcome by the flies, but the flies had only been disturbed by her blind charge at the infected dead in the gardens. If she had waited, they almost certainly would have put their scarves over their faces before attacking the infected. It wasn’t the first time they had encountered the infected under those conditions.
“It wasn’t our first time, but it would be their last time,” she said.
No one answered because no one was there. She fixed her eyes on the spot where they had all appeared and almost stayed too long. When the groans made her turn back to the group of friends coming her way, they weren’t her friends anymore.
This time she understood that it was her own mind that yelled.
“Run.”
******
Mud Island was only a few miles down the coast from the marina, but the world had passed the location by. It could have been developed into a resort getaway years ago, but real estate investors had never been able to buy the land or get the permits they needed in order to do environmental impact studies on the area. They never knew it was because the government had a closely guarded secret along that stretch of beachfront property.
Iris didn’t know the exact location, but the Chief had told her she would know it when she saw it. He had only chuckled when she pressed him for more information.
The wooden docks that divided the slips of the marina were impassable in places, but that worked to her advantage. Where they were passable, they were intended to keep rich people from falling into the water, so they were coated with a non-slip surface. That helped her to move fast, showing less caution than she would have on a smooth dock. Iris was also able to climb over the debris and leave the infected behind. They gathered at the spot where she climbed into one badly damaged boat and then hopped into another. They tried to follow, but all they did was get themselves stuck or fall into worse places they couldn’t get out of. When they fell into the water between the boats, they sank very quickly. She figured they didn’t have any air in their lungs, so they weren’t buoyant.
The marina had been a tangled mess, and it took over an hour to navigate the debris. When she finally reached her goal, she was seriously disappointed and beaten. The pontoon boat might as well have been nothing more than a mirage in a desert. From the hotel it had appeared to be in good shape, but even if it didn’t have too much damage, it was wedged into its slip on top of another boat. There was no way to get them apart, and she doubted it would stay above water once it was free. Iris was going to have to find another way to reach the sailboat.
Iris sat on the stern of the wrecked pontoon boat and peered into the water. With the sun at just the right angle and no clouds in between, she could see the hull of another boat beneath her. A large blue crab propelled itself across the white hull on its way toward some food.
She shivered at the thought of what that food might be and instinctively pulled her feet back farther from the edge. The people in the settlement at Hopkins told her about the dead walking on the bottom of the lake to try to reach the floating town. Iris could imagine them floating to the surface when decay caused pockets of gases to build up in their bodies. It would be disturbing to have one pop up in front of her. She shaded her eyes to see through the spot in front of her and find out what the crab had been after.
A vague thought took shape when she saw her own reflection in the water superimposed over the hull of the boat. It reminded her of an aquarium, but it reminded her of something else. A trip to Sea World and another theme park nearby. A row of paddle boats lined up along a dock as eager tourists were helped into their seats.
Iris jumped to her feet and started turning in circles.
“Where would they be? Away from the slips but in walking distance.”
The area would have a safety line across its boundary, and there would be a sign that says NO PADDLE BOATS BEYOND THIS POINT. The other side of the sign facing the marina would probably be a caution not to cause a wake because there were paddle boats in the area.
There probably had been a sign before the chaos of the first day when ownership of boats changed hands more than once inside the seawalls of the marina. Hundreds of small boats made it from their slips to open water, but judging by the wreckage, more of them weren’t so lucky.
Boat owners shot people who were stealing their boats, but it happened just as often the other way around. Collisions caused more shots to be exchanged between boats that were already free of their slips, and fires broke out as bullets punched holes in motors and fuel cans. Explosions sent fireballs racing across the marina, catching people exposed on the docks. Burning boats that were either drifting or being driven by injured people had crossed into the paddle boat area and caused another tangled mess. From where she was, Iris could see plenty of the small two-seater boats bobbing on the water. If she could navigate one out of that area, she could definitely reach the sailboat if the tide was in her favor.
It took over an hour to get from the slips to the tou
rist attraction. Besides having to climb over boats and damaged docks, there was the constant threat of stumbling upon the infected that had been trapped or pinned under something. They had been like that for years and had been picked at by crabs and birds until there wasn’t much left, but they could still bite.
There were also the ones that had strayed into the marina more recently and found the damp, overgrown gardens where she had last seen her friends alive. She wondered if the living would ever outnumber the infected again. The hulls of the boats that weren’t too jammed against their neighbors caused a deep, rubbing sound when small swells reach the inside of the seawalls, and a perpetual moaning sound from every corner of the marina called the infected to come investigate.
Iris held her breath when she began pushing anything away that would separate from the rest of the wreckage. She found one small fishing boat that would have been perfect if it had been on the outside of the paddle boat area, but there was no way she would be able to get it into the clear. She climbed over one boat after the next until finally, there it was. One paddle boat sat inside a long curve of wrecked boats, almost like it was at anchor in its own private slip. She saw that she could climb out to it and drop straight down into a seat from above.
She showed less patience and caution than she should have, but she had no choice. Almost halfway to her goal she saw that it would become a race for her to get the paddle boat out in time.
In her mind’s eye she saw herself pushing the paddles with her legs and driving the small boat straight at the gap between the last dock and the last upended boat. If she didn’t get to that gap first, a group of the infected would be dropping from the dock right into the other passenger seat. She climbed faster.
Her arms and legs were aching, but somehow she managed to build up a slim lead in the race. If there wasn’t anything keeping the paddle boat where it was, she would be able to start it moving as soon as she reached it.
The last boat was in front of her. A small sailboat, and its bow sat upward above the paddle boat. Its keel was exposed where it ran up and over a single engine powerboat. For a moment she considered jumping from the powerboat to the paddle boat, but she didn’t like the idea of coming up short. At least it was a straight drop from the sailboat to the seat below.
Iris climbed over the side rail and up the sloping deck of the sailboat until she reached the bow. She didn’t hesitate because the small horde had reached the beginning of the dock and were stumbling in her direction. They were already moaning with excitement.
She went over the bow, hung until she stopped swaying, and dropped before she could change her mind. It hurt worse than she expected, but that was because her small pack of gear managed to reach the seat first. She landed with the full weight of her rear end on top of it.
Despite the pain, she was so mad at herself for the painful bruise she was going to have that she pumped her feet immediately. It was pointed in the right direction, so the little paddle boat stroked the water and seemed to have enough speed for her to get to the gap first. It felt like it was gliding, and Iris realized this wasn’t your average tourist attraction. This one was made for older, rich people who wanted everything to be easy. If she hadn’t landed on her gear, she would have found out just how soft the seat cushion was.
She gauged her speed and the progress of the infected on the dock and saw she needed to give it just a little more effort. Out of reflex she looked down at her feet when she pushed them harder and was surprised to see the paddle boat had a glass bottom. She saw just how close she had come to making a critical error as the paddle boat passed over a wrecked boat that was only inches below her. If she had become stuck on something in that gap at the end of the dock, the infected would have been piling in the boat with her.
She was looking down at the hull of the sunken boat as she passed over it, sure that she would get snagged on it. When she lifted her head, she was surprised to find that she had passed the end of the dock, and only seconds later the infected arrived, too. They kept going as if they could walk on the water to reach her, and Iris heard the first one hit the solid hull beneath the surface.
The gap was only about six feet across, and as the infected fell from the dock, they made a pile that filled the opening. She was clear of the groaning infected as they reached for her, but it had been too close. Even though it didn’t matter anymore, she paddled harder and steered toward the opening in the sea wall where the sailboat was anchored, hidden from view.
Iris couldn’t believe it when she climbed easily into the boat and began to gather the lines. The anchor came up easily, which was a small miracle after so many years of sitting on the bottom, and the breeze was blowing across her starboard bow. As soon as she pulled up a sail and pushed away from the sea wall, the small sailboat began sliding away from the marina. If the Chief wasn’t kidding, she would know Mud Island when she saw it.
******
Riding on small waves but at a brisk pace, Iris kept her eyes peeled to the coast, watching for something obvious. The Chief said it wasn’t far by water, but there was time to think about the friends she had lost on the way. The four friends she had taken with her on the road would have enjoyed this last leg of the trip. It had the feeling of finality to it that said she was almost there. It also had the sadness that came with a certainty that they were losing the war with the infected. She asked herself how they were supposed to rebuild when they were still being torn down. The boat leaned slightly with the breeze, and she skillfully used it to gain even more speed.
Several times she thought she saw landmarks that fit the description of obvious, but something told her they didn’t make her know without a doubt she was in the right place. The Chief said she would have no doubt. She admitted to herself that the Chief had only given her some of the details about Mud Island because she had never really committed to finding him. He had said she should look him up after the radioactivity dropped far enough for her to leave Ambassadors Island, and she had only said maybe she would. He had responded by giving her enough directions to get her this far. The rest seemed almost like he was joking.
The sun had passed into the west, and Iris didn’t want to still be searching for Mud Island at night. She didn’t think the Chief meant they would have a light on the dock. She was getting more and more concerned when she saw a jetty poking out into the surf.
“A jetty would be obvious.”
She gave the rocks plenty of room as she steered a little further out to sea. She couldn’t help being grateful that she made it this far in daylight. It wasn’t likely that she would have been close enough to shore to hit the jetty, but if she had come within even a few feet of it in the dark, it would have scared her to death.
As she rounded the tip of the jetty, she understood what the Chief had meant. Several craft were parked along a wide dock that pointed toward the jetty, and one of them was a beautiful, yellow seaplane. Her heart was a big lump in her throat when she realized just how close they were when she lost her four friends. Somewhere under those trees was another safe haven like Ambassadors Island, and all she had to do was find it.
The Chief had given her just enough information for her to locate the shelter if she had to, but he told her the easiest way was for someone to bring her in from the dock. That’s where she thought he was joking. She steered into a current that was moving toward the shore, and she had to be careful not to overshoot the dock. Having spent so many years on the water, she was an accomplished sailor, and she timed her jump perfectly.
She was impressed by every detail of the dock. Someone had built it to last. The cleat she had tied her line to had been so strong that it had allowed her to let the sail boat stretch the line tight as the current grabbed it.
“What did the Chief call the water on this side of Mud Island? Oh yeah, he called it the moat.”
The houseboat wasn’t what she had expected, but it fit with something else she had heard the Chief say. He had commented that the big homes on Ambassad
ors Island were like something he had protecting his shelter. It didn’t make sense at the time, but it did now.
If she was supposed to do something to get herself noticed by the people inside Mud Island, it would most likely be something she could do in the houseboat. She had wondered about the playfully cryptic things he told her to do after she arrived, but she had let him have his fun. He had a good sense of humor, and he was always testing people to see how far they would go. In this case he had told her there was a rubber chicken on the dock, and she was supposed to swing it around in circles over her head. She didn’t think so.
The door of the houseboat was unlocked when she tried the handle. It smelled a bit musty from being closed up for too long, but if she had nowhere else to go, she would have found it to be more than adequate as a place to live. Of course it was only intended to distract people into thinking there couldn’t be anything better nearby.
She stepped through the door and stood just far enough inside to be able to get a sense for whether or not she was alone. She would have had security attached to the door, so she stood on one spot and just rotated to take it all in. It didn’t take long to spot the hidden security camera above the door, but she recalled the Chief said they had added more of them throughout the houseboat because there had been too many blind spots.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
The voice came from behind her and off to one side, or she would have seen that someone was there when she turned far enough to see the camera.
Despite the fact that the voice had been anything but threatening, she dove inside the houseboat, rolled, and came up with her machete blade aimed toward a stocky, bald man who had to be in his sixties but looked like he could fight a bear bigger than him.
He held one hand out with his palm up to show it was empty and immediately tried to make up for scaring her to death.
“I’m so sorry, Ma’am. I should have called to you from a distance, but I’ve learned not to raise my voice outside.”