Dawn of the Apocalypse: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (17 page)

            "Wahoo!" I cried.  "Move everything over."

            While they transferred everything from the pickup to the boat, I moved around it quickly unfastening anything and everything holding it to the trailer.  Then I got into the pickup and put it in Neutral.

            "Are you ready?

            "Done," Charlie called.

            "Push us down the ramp."

            Mike and Charlie pushed.  I stood in the driver's door and pushed, with on hand on the steering wheel.  Once it was all moving down the ramp on its own, I shouted for them to climb into the boat.  And just in time.

            We hit the water with a splash.  Water washed over the boat, but it stayed afloat.  Mike immediately cranked it up again.  As the trailer and truck continued back, going under, I raced down the ramp and into the water.  Charlie grabbed my arms and pulled me up.

            Mike backed away, before turning to head downriver.  The gang bangers' last two cars arrived.  They must've seen what we did, because they started pushing the bass boat and pickup down the ramp.

            I shook my head.  Not only did it not start, but they didn't unfasten it from the trailer.  That wasn't going to end well.  And by that time we were too far away to see what they were doing.

            We moved pretty fast.  Those two big Mercury outboards were monsters.  Soon, we rounded a bend and there was the Arch.  The moonlight wasn't really lighting it up, but we could see its dark shape against the deep purple western sky. 

            "Hey, man, this is the first time I've seen the Gateway Arch in person," Mike called from the small driver's cabin.

            For a twenty-seven foot boat, I thought it was remarkably short of room.  Our gear, food, and ammo took up almost all of the deck.  Of course, it wasn't organized yet.  The cabin took up way too much space, yet it wasn't really large enough to hold all three of us.  There was an AC unit on the roof, but we couldn't get it to work.

            "Is everyone all right?" I asked.  I took off my helmet and looked at the impact point.  The bullet was still lodged in it.  The Kevlar puffed up, looked pretty badly around it, but saved my life.  My nose was another matter.  "Any wounds or injuries?"

            I probed my nose.  It felt huge.

            "Looks like you got a broken nose," Charlie said.  "I was grazed a few times."

            "All my injuries were from your crazy driving," Mike said.  "Do you even have a license?"

            "Yeah.  A military driver's license."

            "That explains it."

Chapter 24

            The St Louis fire and rescue boat had a much better first aid kit.  We cleaned our wounds.  Mike squeezed my nose.  He said it was setting the bones, but I had my doubts.  All I knew was it hurt worse than breaking and involved a lot more blood.

            "You were never a pretty man, Roger, but you're going to be real ugly the next week or so," he said.  "Your face is already turning yellow, black, and blue."

            Charlie came over to look.  "Damn.  You could scare a zombie."

            When it was all over I had enough blood down the front of my clothes to look like a zombie.  I scrubbed it in the water, but without soap I didn't accomplish much more than getting rid of the excess.  The BDU shirt and patches on the trousers retained their blood stains.  Even the t-shirt underneath was stained.

            I would've liked to take a dip in the river, but the current was still pretty bad.  So I washed using buckets of water.  The boat had a pretty good bilge pump, so I could use as much as I wanted.

            "You saved the beer?" I asked.

            "Of course.  We're not barbarians," Mike said.  "We have a few more Bud Lights, but mostly Miller High Life, Natural Light, and Coors."

            "Gimme a Coors," I said.  "I'm tired of that light crap."

            We ate chips, drank beer, and drifted in the moonlight for the next few hours.  All three of us were too tired to think straight.  When we spotted an island, we circled it a few times, hitting it with the spotlight on board.  Calling out to anyone on it through the loudspeaker.  When we got no response, Mike and Charlie went ashore and scouted it out.

            It was devoid of human life.  The island was pretty close to the western side of the river, but it was pretty marshy in that area.  It was as safe from other survivors we could hope for, and zombies didn't swim.  The mosquitoes were killer that close to shore and the marsh.

            "It'll be nice to sleep on dry land for once," I said.

            "Do they have alligators this far north?" Mike asked.

            I sighed.  I looked at the marsh.  That looked like alligator paradise.  There were probably snakes and spiders.  But we could have a fire on the island.

            Big bad soldier that I am, I decided to spend the night on the boat.  "One day I'll get you for that, Mike."

            So that no one had to drive, we elected to tie off to the island.  We tied off on the landward side, just in case other survivors came drifting down the river.  And we still posted a guard.  Two hours on, four off.  Military training was hard to shake.  I was allowed to have the first guard shift since I suffered the worst injuries.

            I stood guard on my butt.  Sat on one of the big outboard engines, with a beer and a bag of corn chips.  My rifle was close at hand, and the pistol was resting on my hip.  I no longer felt safe unless I was armed, even while sleeping.

            Sporadic gunfire sounded in the distance, mostly on the western side of the river.  At one point something big splashed southward through the marsh, and it was close enough I heard labored breathing.  I kept my mouth shut and a finger on the trigger until it was past us.

            Near the end of my shift, when I was struggling to not nod off, a clank caught my attention.  It was close.  The sound came from somewhere upriver, and on the water.  Quickly sliding off the motor, I picked up my rifle and knelt on one knee.  Another clank helped me to zero in on them.

            Three john boats were moving downriver.  Men were rowing with oars.  They were just dark shapes, but I guessed there were at least four men in each boat.  It looked like they were headed straight at us.

            I moved as quietly as I could to the bow, where Charlie was sleeping and Mike snorting softly.  I gently woke them, with a low, "Shhh."

            Pointing at the approaching boats, I moved up next to the rope.  We'd tied it off with a bow knot just in case we needed to make a fast escape.  Mike slipped back to the cabin, ready to start up and take off at my signal.  Charlie leveled his SAW at them.

            Lucky men.  They passed by on the other side of the island.  Two of them discussed the island in whispers, and considered stopping for the night.  They continued on.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  My heart raced for a while after they were long gone.

            "I have the watch," Mike said.  "Y'all get what sleep you can.  The mosquitoes are horrible.  I haven't slept a wink."

            "Oh my god, you snore that loud while awake?" I asked.

            "Charlie, do I snore?"

            "Normally no," he said.  "But tonight?  Like a freight train."

            I told him all I'd heard and seen during my watch.  Then I needlessly warned him to stay alert for other boaters sneaking down the river, and found a place to sleep a bad day off.

Chapter 25

            It was amazing how cold the mountains could be in the dawn's early light.  Back in Atlanta, while living in a house with central air and heat, I thought it was terribly hot out even in the early morning.  My body had acclimated after ten days and nights without AC, so early mornings felt chilly at best.  Needless to say, I failed to bring a single jacket or coat, so all I had was a red flannel shirt for warmth.

            I froze.  Was that rustling in the forest below me?  I'd found a great place overlooking a mountain meadow.  Three days earlier I'd actually accomplished a hunting miracle.  I bagged three deer crossing that very meadow.

            After basking in my hunter's glory for a few, I sobered up.  I'd just put the community three steps closer to leaving.  Even as I sat on that fallen tree, Sean was curing the meat of my kills to feed the group as we traveled.  Thanks to me.

            In the four days since the meeting where everyone voted to leave, and refused to allow me and the boys to stay behind, everyone available had been hunting.  Sean and three other men were busy building makeshift smoking shacks.  They'd built three already, with plans for two more.  Every extra piece of meat was put in them.  The group had even cut back on the amount of meat we ate to save as much as we could.

            It was my idea to cure as much meat as possible.  What better way to provide for a long journey where our ability to find food was at best shaky than a stockpile of jerky.  In truth it was just a ploy to buy Roger more time to reach us, but then I went off and put us a lot closer to departure with those three kills.

            Still, I knew if I could do it again that I would.  The more I killed the more my boys got to eat.  Nothing mattered more than that.

            "Roger, where are you?" I whispered, staring off at the horizon.  Then I heard the faint crack of a branch.  I eased the safety off and moved the butt of the 30-30 to my shoulder.  "Hello little deer.  Come to Momma."

            Three days earlier it started just like that.  A rustle, followed by a fawn timidly coming out of cover.  Three does followed closely.  I sighted in on the last doe to break cover, figuring the first was the momma deer to the fawn.  Yet, I hesitated.  The buck always came last.  The bastards always offered up their mates and off-spring before they exposed themselves.

            My heart raced when I remembered that moment when I saw him.  That buck was the biggest I'd ever seen.  His seven-point rack was huge.  I held my breath as I sighted in on his flank, on his heart.  As soon as he cleared cover enough for a clear shot –
Bang!

            The buck bolted toward the other side of the meadow.  He was moving too fast for a clean shot, but I was pretty certain I hit him.  Now it was time to try and shoot another.

            I chambered another round almost without thought.  It was pure instinct now.  My father taught me to work a lever action rifle like a pro.  So, being confident I swung the rifle to the left until my sights fell upon the rearmost doe.  As soon as my sights lined up over her heart, I squeezed off another shot.  She dropped like a rock.  And since she was only halfway across the meadow, I continued swinging left as I chambered another round.

            "Gotcha!" I whispered and pulled the trigger.  A second doe dropped.  One doe and a fawn escaped.  When I lowered the rifle I spotted him.  The buck had collapsed and died just short of the opposite treeline.  "Wow!"

            Yeah, that was my proudest hunting moment.  Was I about to have a repeat?

            Moving very slowly, I stood and stepped over the fallen tree.  As I dropped to my knees behind it I heard something behind me.  More deer?  A wild hog?  Of course, it could be birds, a rabbit, or a squirrel, too.

           
Stay focused, girl
, I thought.

            I used the log to steady the rifle.  My position was perfect.  I had a perfect straight line view of one side of the meadow, plus clear view of the entire meadow.  There was no escaping my rifle.

           
I'm like a modern day Daniel Boone
, I thought with a grin. 
Okay, Daniella Boone.

            Movement just inside the treeline caught my attention.  I struggled to control my breathing.  Funny, before hunting started to mean the difference between life and death I'd never gotten particularly excited before a kill.  Maybe it was the success of that one day that stoked my fire.  The chance of repeating that big day was thrilling.

            I heard the faintest of rustling behind me again.  So frustrating.  Kind of freaked me out, too.  But I stayed focused.  There was more movement.  Something big was approaching the meadow.  And then I recognized what it was.  A man.

            My head lifted, finger coming off the trigger.  Was it another hunter from our community?  Or a stranger.

            "Hello, sweetheart," a man said behind me.

            An arm was around my waist before I could react.  I was lifted off the ground.  Another man came up to my right and snatched the 30-30 from my hands, and then he took my pistol.

            "You won’t be needing these anymore," he said.

            A third man appeared to my left, and realization hit me hard.  I was in so much trouble.  Realizing I was doomed no matter what I did, I went wild on them.  Kicking, screaming, I did everything I could to break free.  My captor held on tight, and the other two men grabbed my arms.  Only then did he remove his arm from around my body.

            "Uggh!" I cried when he pounded a fist into my lower back.

            He moved around in front of me.  Grinned.  And then pounded a fist into my belly.

            The bastard grabbed a fistful of hair, yanked my head up, and pushed his unshaven, unwashed face in close.

            "You belong to us now, girl."

Chapter 26

            "Do you think they are St Louis zombies?" I asked.

            Since passing through St Louis the number of zombies wandering down the shore on both sides had increased dramatically.  It didn't help that there were roads paralleling the river.

            "Probably," Charlie replied.  "My concern is they aren't just concentrated next to the river.  If they are that thick all across the land, then there is no way we'll reach Georgia."