An Apocalypse Family (Book 1): Family Reunion (28 page)

“We’re ready for power.”

Clay gently engaged the propeller on what was currently the stern, and pushed the ferry up against the pilings on the pier. The lines went slack, and Thomas and Conner struggled to pull the five-inch-thick line off the cleat and drop it into the water. They ran to the other side of the pier and did the same. The only thing holding the ferry in place now was the forward pressure from the giant prop churning at the water, pushing the
Tokitae
against the pilings.

Harry sat in the driver’s seat of the coach, watching and listening to the progress of the team. He was nervous; he could just see the boat slipping away as he drove off the ramp into Puget Sound. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Thomas and Conner made their way to the ramp controls.

Conner stood on the big metal ramp, looking at the ferry three feet below. He ran back up to where Thomas was waiting and told him how far he would have to drop it. They agreed on a couple of simple hand signals, and Conner went back out, stood on the edge of the ramp, and gave Thomas a thumbs up. He pushed down on the lever, lowering the ramp—and Conner—the entire three feet. There was a horrendous bang as it landed on the deck of the ferry. Thomas had pushed the wrong lever and all the hydraulic pressure had been dumped out of the ramp. Conner was jolted when the ramp made contact with the deck of the ferry, and he did a forward roll onto the boat. He came to his feet and looked back at Thomas, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say “my bad.”

“Roll that sucker on there, Harry,” Thomas called over the radio. Harry had heard and felt the ramp crashing onto the ferry’s bow, and was now doubly concerned about the safety of this operation.

“You sure you didn’t break something?” he asked Thomas over the radio.

“We won’t know until we try to leave. I suggest that you get a move on,” Thomas responded.

Conner was waving to Harry to drive onto the ferry, so Harry put the coach in gear and started forward.

The tide must be out,
Harry thought as he moved toward the ramp.
It looks like the ferry is way down there
. He gathered his nerve and accelerated down the ramp and onto the ferry. The coach scraped the front bumper on the deck and bounced violently when the wheels hit. He knew this wasn’t right, but had no choice at that point. He jammed on the accelerator and shot across the deck of the ferry. He felt the ass end of the coach drop and was sure he was going into the drink.

He looked in the side mirror, saw that he was safely aboard the ferry, and slammed on the brakes. The rest of the team was still dragging the lines onto the boat when he came onboard and scattered out of the way, fearing he might run them over. He opened the door and stepped down the stairs. As he stepped out, Thomas was just making it to the end of the ramp. He saw the ramp in two pieces. Thomas had dropped the front half to the ramp, but the rest of the ramp remained in its up position. No wonder he’d bounced; his heart was still racing when Thomas approached.

“Eh, sorry about that, Harry.”

Harry just shook his head as Maddie grabbed him in a full-on bear hug.

“Whew, that was interesting,” was all she could offer.

“Nice job, fellas,” Clay’s voice came over the radio, tinged with sarcasm. He’d stopped the prop that was pushing them into the pier and had applied power to the prop on the opposite end, and the ferry began to move out to sea.

“Uh, I could use some help up here, guys. I need to get to the other pilot house.” Clay didn’t sound worried. “Thomas, I need you below to check on the engines and do a walk around. If you see any major red lights blinking, I would appreciate it if you’d let me know.”

They moved offshore and dropped anchor. Thomas shut down the engines once they were sure the anchor was secure. He and Conner worked with Clay, going over the startup procedures several times to be ready to get underway in a hurry. They left the electrical generators running and spent the rest of the day clearing the boat of Shriekers.

Thomas and Clay remained at their posts, just to be safe, and Harry kept Thomas company. Doreen and Jennifer were not well versed in either weapons or clearing, so they stayed with Clay. The rest started at the top and went through every nook and cranny of the ferry, looking for stowaways.

They stood outside the door to the crew quarters, feeling confident they could handle anything on the other side. Maddie, Carla, Conner, and Lauren all had their weapons ready, and the lights of the ferry were on. Maddie threw the door open and stepped inside, just looking for something to kill. Lauren broke to the right as she entered and swept the room for a target. Conner stepped in, looking for a fight. The room was empty. A passageway led to the right and they fanned out immediately to cover it. Conner looked under each bunk and in each closet.

“Clear,” he called out.

There wasn’t enough room for all four of them in the passageway, and Maddie and Lauren were the first to make the turn. Down the hall were three doors. One was closed and two stood open. Lauren took the door to the right, which turned out to be a bathroom and showers. Maddie took the door to the left, which was another passageway. Maddie immediately let everyone know she had additional rooms to clear.

“Two doors—one left, one right.”

Conner followed Maddie, and Carla followed Lauren. Lauren stepped into the room and kicked in the toilet stall door in front of her. It bounced off a Shrieker, which fell to the floor and grabbed her by the ankle. She didn’t hesitate; she pointed the shotgun at the arm and blew it in half. Carla stood behind her and swung the AR15 she was carrying back and forth over the room. Lauren pushed the stall door open carefully, and point-blank stuck the shotgun in the Shrieker’s ear. She pulled the trigger; brains and blood splattered across the tile.

Lauren pulled back, swung to the next stall, and kicked it in. Nothing.

“Clear,” she called, and began backing out of the space. As she turned to follow Carla to the next area, she felt the teeth of a Shrieker latch onto the back of her neck. She fell to the floor under its weight. Two loud reports came from the passageway. Maddie and Conner had engaged more Shriekers across the hall. Carla moved toward the melee across the hall, and Lauren screamed as the creature ripped a ribbon of flesh from her body. She rolled to the left and her ribs smashed against the doorframe. The Shrieker wasn’t slowed; it continued to rip at her.

Carla heard Lauren’s scream after she took a step toward Maddie and Conner’s side of the fight. She turned to see her daughter drenched in blood, a Shrieker gorging on her face. Carla began to shoot. She stuck the barrel of the AR15 into the its face and loosed the entire magazine, one round at a time, the whole time screaming at the top of her lungs.

Maddie and Conner had their hands full, as the lounge area they were clearing had five Shriekers scrambling to get at them. Carla didn’t reload the AR, she just started beating on what was left of the Shrieker with the rifle, not even bothering to turn it around.
Thunk, thunk, thunk
, the barrel connected the obliterated head of the Shrieker. She stepped forward and kicked it with all her strength. It flew off of Lauren, who lay there unmoving.

Carla collapsed onto Lauren, pulling her into the passageway.

“No! No! No!” she continued to chant as she tried to save her girl.

Maddie and Conner finished clearing the other room and then came running. Conner stood over her, yelling Lauren’s name. Maddie leaned back against the bulkhead and slid down to the deck, staring at the mess that used to be Lauren.

Our caravan meandered south through dairy farms, with Mount Baker looking down at our travels. The trip was only eighty more miles, and I was looking forward to finally reaching the island. I hoped I would be able to recover from my gunshot wound and rest up for a while before I began my next adventure.

I heard Parker come over the radio. “I have a guy hitchhiking up ahead,” he said, sounding like he really didn’t believe what he was seeing.

The country surrounding us was flat and open, so I wasn’t worried about an ambush. Who the hell would be walking down a country road by themselves in the middle of the apocalypse?

“What do you think? Is he crazy or just stupid?” I replied.

That got a chuckle out of Max. “He’s probably just another Andrew, trying to get home.”

“He has a shotgun, but he’s putting it on the ground and waving for us to stop,” Parker added.

“Your call, Parker,” I said, not sure what we should do. I figured we would eventually run across other survivors, but my first encounter had not been pleasant and it made me leery.

“He looks harmless enough. Let’s see what his story is.” I could feel the truck begin to slow and pull off the road. Parker pulled up short of where the stranger stood, and both Jean and Max went on past him and stopped.

He stood there with his hands raised, waiting for us to initiate contact. He looked young, probably in his early twenties, straight dark hair, skinny, with a guitar strapped to his pack. Meg pushed the rear hatch of the topper open as Max walked by our truck.

“Be careful,” I admonished him. He gave me a quick nod and continued toward the hitchhiker.

“Hey dudes!” I heard the young troubadour say.

“Hey,” Max replied. “What’s your story?”

“Just traveling the road spreading love to the masses,” he said, holding his hands out wide and looking around like there was a crowd of music lovers waiting to be serenaded.

“We, my band and I, were playing a gig in Victoria and, well, all this happened. I’m just trying to get back to Bellingham.”

“Where’s your band?” Max asked.

“Well, I’ve got a song about that, but let’s just say they weren’t fleet of foot, if you know what I mean.”

“So, they’re dead?” Parker spoke for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah man, they’re history.” He dropped his head for a second and stared at the ground. He looked back up.

“Can you guys give me a ride?”

Parker looked like he was going to say no, but then he always looked like he was going to say no.

“Yeah, sure, come on. Throw your shit in the back of my truck.” With that, he turned and started walking back to his truck. Max turned, looked my way, and shrugged, then made for the Tundra.

“Hey, my name is Derek if you were wondering,” he said as he bent and picked up his shotgun.

Max turned and pointed at the weapon. “Where did you get that?”

“Um…” he looked at the shotgun in his hands. “I found it next to a dead guy, back up the road. I don’t have any bullets for it, though.”

“They call them shells, or slugs, for that type of weapon, Derek.” Max held out his hand and Derek passed it to him. It was an old side-by-side double barrel with the barrels sawn off. Max cracked the breach and two empty shells ejected.

“Did you even check to see if it was loaded?” Max shook his head.

“Ahh… I didn’t know how to,” he stammered.

Max handed it back to him. “Makes for a nice club, I guess,” he said as he walked away.

Derek stumbled, almost dropping it, and started trotting after him.

“Well, can you show me how to shoot the damn thing?”

“Maybe later,” Max said. “You better hurry or Parker’s going to leave without you.” He pointed to Parker.

Derek put his pack and shotgun in the back of Parker’s truck. Taking his guitar with him, he got in. We pulled back onto Goshen Road, then turned west on Mt. Baker Highway shortly thereafter.

When we got to Bellingham, Parker came on the radio.

“I’m going to make a short detour to drop off our new friend. You guys just head south on 5 and I’ll catch up.”

I immediately answered, “We’ll follow you. I don’t want to split up.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replied. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was being an asshole. It was just the way he was, very economical with his words.

Several minutes later, we pulled up to the smoking ruins of what was once a house. We sat there for a minute, and then Parker called on the radio.

“Max, meet me at Jean’s truck; we need to talk.”

Parker got out of the Tacoma and made his way to the F250. They all came around the back. Jean, Lynn, Lisa, Max, and Parker gathered around so I didn’t have to get out.

“The kid doesn’t have anyone left, apparently,” Parker stated. “Do we keep him on, or kick him out?”

Everyone started looking at each other, trying to gauge each other’s reaction. Max spoke first.

“All he will be good for is comic relief. He didn’t even know how to load that scattergun he was carrying.”

“Dad, not everyone had guns growing up.” Lisa frowned at Max. “I’m sure he could learn.”

The women all nodded; they were clearly leaning toward letting him stay with us. Lynn was frustrated.

“Look, I know it’s another mouth to feed, but what are we becoming? Are we going to remain a band of paranoid survivors, or are we going to try and rebuild some kind of life?”

Parker cracked a rare smile. “I guess I could stand the company.” He turned and headed back to his truck.

“Well, I guess that’s decided,” I said, and everyone turned to leave.

Back on the road, we made our way toward the island. We stayed on Interstate 5 until we got to Burlington, where we turned west again on Memorial Highway. It wasn’t long before we made the turn for Deception Pass. Highway 20 ran all the way to the island, but it went from a four-lane highway down to a two-lane country road that twisted around like a snake. When we got to Pass Lake, I knew we were getting close.

Parker came on the radio.

“We’ve got a roadblock ahead.”

A small island sits in Deception Pass. Pass Island is no more than a rock with trees on it, but nonetheless, it necessitated two separate bridges instead of one single span. The first span was about as long as a football field, and we came to a stop on what would be the goal line on the mainland side.

With Max’s help, I got out of the F250, and together we made our way to Parker, who was looking through his binoculars at the scene ahead.

“What do we have?” I asked as we got closer.

“Looks like it was a National Guard roadblock,” Parker said. “I don’t think anyone is still alive, though.”

He handed me the binoculars and I surveyed the carnage on Pass Island. Three Humvees blocked the end of the span we sat on. Bodies littered the ground on both sides of the roadblock.

“I can’t even count the number of bodies,” I said, handing the binoculars to Max.

Max looked for a minute, then handed them back to Parker.

“We need to do a little recon. I’ll get Lisa and we’ll scout it out.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said, and started to go get my gear.

“No offense, Ryan, but you’d be more a hindrance than a help. Wait here and we’ll let you know what’s going on,” Max said, and went back to get Lisa.

“What do you think?” I asked Parker.

“I think we could use one of those Humvees, and I imagine there are some more weapons we could scavenge if someone hasn’t beaten us to it.”

I put my earbud in and plugged it into my radio. Max and Lisa were still wearing theirs, along with the throat mic chokers.

I retrieved the TP AR 7.62 rifle, went back, and took up an overwatch position at the hood of Parker’s Tacoma. Parker climbed on top of the truck with the binoculars.

“Okay, be careful, and leave your radios on voice-activate,” I told Max and Lisa.

They stayed on the roadside of the sidewalk fence and zigzagged their way toward the Humvees.

Max came on the radio a couple of minutes later, sounding winded.

“Looks like these are all freaks. They all have the sunburn thing going on,” he said as he reached the first bodies.

“I don’t see anything moving ahead of you,” I reported as I watched through my scope. “Parker, you see anything?”

“No.”

They had no concealment as they approached the Humvees. I scanned back and forth, worried that some gung ho private would appear and start shooting at them.

They made it safely to the roadblock, and I watched Lisa cover Max as he angled the corner of the Humvee on the left. He stood there for a moment with his M4 up and in the ready position, then turned and waved us up.

When I arrived, I found Lisa bent over, puking.

“I’ll never get used to the smell,” she said.

It did smell horrible, but being outside, the smell didn’t stick to you like it did indoors. Maybe I was becoming immune to it. The bodies of the guardsmen were decimated. There was little smell coming from them; they had been picked clean. The freaks, however, were remarkably intact.

They must not like eating their own,
I thought to myself. There was a group of freaks on the mainland side, and a larger group of them on the island side.

“The soldiers must have been surprised by the group from the island,” I said. They came here to protect the people on the island and got ambushed by them instead. We collected five more M4s and some ammunition.

Max stood at the railing of the bridge, looking down at the water.

“Hey man, you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’d been toying with the idea of just blockading the bridge instead blowing it up as you suggested, but seeing this has changed my mind.” He looked disgusted. I offered him a smoke and we both took a minute to stare at the water and enjoy the nicotine buzz.

“Low tide,” I remarked.

“Yeah, Parker took me through at low tide in his Zodiac a couple of years ago when I called him a pussy for not wanting to.” He laughed. “Turns out he had a bigger pair than I gave him credit for. I wish I’d never called that into doubt. I nearly peed myself that day.”

I laughed at the story. The water below was a churning mass of standing waves, ten feet tall in places, with currents and eddies swirling in multiple directions.

“There is no way you would get me in a boat on that!” I said, as I flicked my cigarette off the bridge and watched it spiral down.

Two of the three Humvees started. The other, apparently, had been running when they were attacked, and the battery was dead. The fuel tank was most likely empty.

The adults teamed up and moved the bodies onto the sidewalk, where Max and Parker worked together throwing them over the side. It was exhausting work and I wasn’t able to help, but I made the rounds, making sure everyone had water. The kids were all playing king of the hill on the turnout area of Pass Island. It looked like the girls were all ganging up on poor Andy. He’d run up the hill only to fall prey to one or two of the girls, who held onto the high ground. Max told Andy to get used to it, that women would be doing that to him for the rest of his life. He tilted his head to the side and gave Max a queer look. It was clear that he thought Max meant girls would literally be throwing him off a hill for the rest of his life, which confused him.

Our newest member, Derek, pitched in and sang old spirituals as he dragged bodies over to Lynn and Jean, who would summarily dump them over the rail that separated the road from the sidewalk.

“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen…” I had to admit, he did have a good voice; it kept everyone’s spirits up.

Two hours later, the bodies had all been given the heave-ho-here-ya-go, and everyone was bushed. Lisa and Derek were elected to drive the two working Humvees, and we headed off for Coupeville.

When we arrived, Parker started honking his horn before he even turned onto the driveway. The whole gang was there to greet us as we pulled up to the house.

Henry and Molly were the leaders of the compound. When I say compound, well, it was shaping up to be one. They had adopted another house that sat in the same clearing as the original retreat. Parker saw they had been busy since he left early that morning. The ground floor windows of the new residence had all been boarded up.

“We’re going to start building a wall around the houses tomorrow,” Henry said.

Molly had been making the rounds of all us newly arrived, and was full of glee.

“We hoped you’d found a few more of the clan on your return, but we never expected this many,” she said to Parker. “Six of the seven Brants, we’re only missing Barb now, and who knows, she may still show up.”

Max was reunited with his daughter Trish. She and her mother had shown up shortly before we arrived. They regaled Max with the story of how Frank had convinced a group of marauders that he was the only one at the farm. The marauders killed him, but they escaped and made their way to the island in a small rowboat, powered by a five horsepower Evinrude. Lynn’s husband and daughter were also there, but I didn’t get the story as to how they had made it from Colorado.