Ghost Run (4 page)

I took another shot as the creature began to sidestep the machine and refocus on its intended meal. Taking the top of its head off, the creature fell onto the machine, shoving it sideways. Its leg servos whirred, instantly compensating for the assault. It made its way back to me and once again commenced what I presumed was its power-saving protocol.

My suppressed carbine was probably three times as loud as the machine. The shots I fired would resound down the streets and alleyways, attracting more undead. As I exited the tall grass for the street, the sound-stimulated creatures noticed me and began to moan in unison, causing an instant chain reaction. Now mobs of them began to pour out of the shops and nearby structures. The sounds of broken glass filled the street. Once again I was forced up, into the decaying brick buildings; I was a modern caveman fleeing the saber-toothed tigers of my time, using height once again to primate advantage.

Leveraging a drainage pipe from the cemetery I hadn't noticed as it was partially hidden behind a good-sized two-story building, I began my climb to the top. Nearing the roof, the machine closed the distance until it was adjacent to the drainpipe and then it just remained there. Its rapidly rotating visual sensors seemed fixated on me now standing atop the building. I looked down at the thing, wondering what it would do when I walked out of its field of view.

The roof was thankfully clear of undead. My mask was partially fogged over from all the exertion. I stood there catching my
breath. Checking the Geiger, I removed my gas mask for a few moments of reprieve. A quick scan with my binoculars allowed me to confirm I was moving in the right direction. I could see
Solitude
's mast swaying slowly in the distance. I took this time to eat some canned food and drink all the remaining water in my pack. I had more on the robot and my emergency stash on board the dinghy.

I could now clearly see the details of the color-coded buttons on the beacon watch. The symbology was similar to a key fob. Arranged in the four quadrants on the watch face, like a miniature Simon game, were a protected red horn button, a blue stay button, and a green follow button. There was also a fourth yellow button but there was no indication as to its function. Checking the edge of the roof once again, I could see the robot still standing at the base of the drainage pipe. The undead that pursued from the cemetery had rounded the opposite side and were streaming into a different street—for now.

I pressed the blue stay button.

The machine's head folded back into its body and it lowered to the ground.

I pressed the green follow button.

As expected, the machine came back to life; however, this time it trotted off around the corner of the building and out of sight.

I ran to the other side of the roof to watch. It circled the front doors of the building and seemed to scan the access points before moving around the next corner. It circumnavigated the building, zigzagging past small groups of undead. The creatures didn't pay it much attention after dismissing it as something they couldn't eat.

The machine stopped where it began, at the drainage pipe, its sensor again fixated on me.

That's when I got an idea.

I hit the green follow button once more. As the machine began to run clockwise again around the building, I pressed the recessed red horn button. A high-pitched piercing sound shot out of a speaker on the machine. Like an ambulance passing, the Doppler effect made the noise change in pitch as it rounded the corner. The mobs of undead that were streaming down the street changed course and began pursuing the machine around the building.

I quickly put my gas mask and hood back over my head and
rushed down the pipe before the machine could finish its revolution. I then sprinted toward
Solitude
as fast as the suit would allow.

Behind me, I could hear the whine of the machine's siren getting louder as it began to gain on me. I fumbled for the red button and pressed it hard. The sound remained for a few seconds before stopping, but it was too late. I could hear the clickety-clack of the machine's feet on the concrete nearby. It had already caught up, and was bringing at least a hundred undead along with it.

The Landfall Marina was only a hundred yards ahead. I ran past the bistro, but as I cleared the corner, something jumped out and tackled me, throwing me to the dirt.

It was the one from the roof.

The creature bit into the thick rubber suit at my leg. Certain I was dead meat, I pulled the ice pick I kept taped to my boot and jammed it repeatedly into its skull.

The horde was nearly upon me. As I stabbed, I could hear the machine building speed, and it then hit the attacking creature with the force of a linebacker. My ice pick, still lodged in its skull, was stripped from my hand. The corpse flew six feet, smacking into the corner of the brick building. I grabbed the D ring on the machine and it began to drag me away from the mass of creatures. I pulled myself up and fled to the marina.

My suit wasn't punctured by the creature's bite, but I could feel the residual pain from the pinch of its jaws. My gun was at the ready. My legs pumped and my upper body turned, firing into the mass of ravenous creatures. Maybe one or two of my rounds hit, but I doubt it. I was downwind from them; somehow the powerful smell had made it through the filters of my gas mask.

I was so full of adrenaline and wracked with fight-or-flight tunnel vision, I didn't realize I was on the dock until I felt the difference in my step. My body was moving instinctively to
Solitude
. I couldn't have stayed to face the mob if I wanted to. I ran, unknowing where exactly the machine was at this point. The docks were now thick with creatures, some falling into the water as the entire horde attempted to enter the marina at once. I wasn't going to die worrying about a four-legged machine, so I just kept running.

Checking over my shoulder one last time before my final sprint to the dinghy, my blood went cold.

Three irradiated undead had broken through the crowd and were making a beeline for me, fast.

I didn't take the time to untie the dinghy. Pulling the Halo knife from my belt, I flicked it open and sliced through the mooring line. With the runners nearly on me, I half jumped, half fell into the dinghy, careful not to stab myself with the open knife. The momentum pushed the kayak farther out, away from the docks. I was partially in the water, hearing the splashes of all the bodies falling in around me. Some of them flailed about like drowning swimmers; others sank to the murky depths, waiting to tug on your feet like in a bad horror movie. The three irradiated runners stood on the dock, gnashing their teeth and clenching their bony hands. They'd easily have ripped me to pieces if I hadn't left in time; I'd likely be bleeding out on the bleached wood, entrails dipping into the water, bringing all sorts of sea life to the shadows under the docks.

I paddled a few feet farther away, just in case those suckers would jump.

After arranging my gear, I checked the radiation levels: a bit high because of all the activity on the docks, so I was forced to remain masked, despite the mild claustrophobia setting in. More of the creatures fell into the water, either splashing or sinking. With the herd thinned by gravity somewhat, I searched for the quadruped machine. I could barely make out something down the docks. The undead were being knocked aside. I pulled my gun on the three irradiated creatures and spread their brains out into the bay, two of them falling lifelessly into the drink and the third lying crumpled on the dock.

I could make out the painted checkered pattern on the machine's “chest” as it neared the end of the dock. And it wasn't actually trying to push the undead into the water but merely counter- balancing being relentlessly nudged by them.

It reached the frayed rope where I cut my dinghy loose and just stood there, staring at me with its rapid rotating mirror-like visual sensor. There were too many undead still on the dock—I didn't think the machine could jump down into the kayak and doubted that the salt water would be very good for it. From my estimation,
the thing weighed well over a hundred pounds. But I still wanted what I had in the saddlebag; doom on the machine.

I pressed the blue stay button on the beacon device and watched its head retract and its chassis lower to the docks with a dull thump. With the marina infested and the surrounding waters churning with undead, I decided to forgo retrieving the saddlebag for now and head back to
Solitude
.

Back on board, I moored the kayak to the aft end of
Solitude
and began to strip down. My body was filthy from hours in the plastic radiation suit. Down to my skivvies and gas mask, I tossed the contaminated suit into the water. Using a bar of soap and the boat's potable water, I took a quick but glorious shower on the fantail. I could hear the propane kick on when I turned the shower nozzle, instantly heating the water right before it exited the showerhead.

After checking the radiation readings, I tossed my mask below-decks and put on some clean clothes and a paper N95 mask, along with the decontaminated beacon watch. At this distance, it was impossible to make out the machine, but I could see undead still milling about on the docks. With plenty of daylight remaining, I fully decontaminated and stowed my kit, and decided to rack out for a couple of hours.

•  •  •

My alarm went off at 3:00
P.M
. I sat in my rack for a few minutes before swinging my legs over and lacing up my boots. I poured some water into my metal coffee cup and brought it to near scalding on the propane stove before adding the instant coffee. I hoped that my supply would never run out, but knew it was an eventuality. Someday there would be a world without coffee, albeit instant. It was raining lightly, disturbing the murky green Gulf Coast water.

Checking the Geiger, I felt okay about not wearing the full-on gas mask. The N95 would be more than enough, especially with the light rain keeping any radioactive dust settled.

The docks were calm now; I could only see a handful of creatures through my binoculars. I secured the dinghy and started
Solitude
's diesel engine. With a flick of a switch, her windlass began hauling the anchor from the depths, back into the sunlight.
I wouldn't attempt to single-hand a boat any larger than
Solitude
, and even then it wasn't easy. I brought her around and made my way back to the marina, keeping a careful eye on the Geiger and the waters ahead.

As I neared the dock,
Solitude
's bow parted undead bodies like an Arctic icebreaker. Passing by, I saw they were being nibbled apart by fish; some had massive bite marks.

Sharks.

I throttled down and got the line ready. The engine noise was beginning to draw attention. With my boat in idle, I slipped the line over the cleat, letting the aft end drift. I ran up the bow and jumped off the metal rail onto the dock.

The rain was beginning to come down hard. I couldn't see too far beyond the marina. The wood creaked from half a dozen corpses advancing, arms out. One of them tripped over the uneven boards, face-planting. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I shot its entourage and then removed the saddlebag from the dormant machine.

Human beings aren't always rational. I had every intention to jump back on board
Solitude
and just leave, but I had to ask myself,
Why did you bring
Solitude
in the first place if all you wanted was the saddlebag? You could have just paddled the dinghy . . .

I pulled the mooring line, bringing the boat's bow closer to me. More undead entered my fishbowl of available vision as the rain pounded down onto the docks. There were too many. I generally liked to opt out of situations that required mag dumps to survive.

With the boat in position, I pressed the green follow button on my wrist. The machine stood facing me, its checkered paint on its gray titanium-clad chest contrasted sharply against the advancing horde behind it. I knew the machine wasn't intelligent, but it looked at me with its head cocked sideways as if asking,
What now?

I grabbed it by its chassis and carefully led it onto the bow of
Solitude
, stepping back on board myself. With the undead only a few feet up the dock, I untied the mooring line and secured it to the machine, creating a short leash. As I tied the line, I watched it gracefully balancing for the gentle roll of
Solitude
. Finishing the knot, the machine's swift head movement startled me right before I heard a loud thump from behind. I felt an icy grip on my calf just before being yanked to the deck, hard.

Stars filled my eyes for a few moments. As my vision returned, I saw the irradiated creature was nearly over the metal guardrail, having jumped back from the docks. My gun was slung across my back, so I pulled the Glock on my hip and took the shot. Although I was acclimated to and expected a suppressed report, I nearly dropped the weapon after the ear-piercing blast rang out, splitting the creature's skull. Using my gaff hook, I pushed the corpse back over the railing and into the deep.

I was nearly deaf, ears ringing, which is what made the next sound so disturbing. Booming moans and screeches were echoing back in response to the shot.

I brought
Solitude
about and headed south, away from the advancing army of undead. Too many irradiated undead in this area to be worth a return visit.

The rain fell hard, and the machine stood there on the deck, watching its new master with unblinking eyes.

Day 2

The bow is slowly pitching in a soothing rhythm.
Solitude
's sails are steadily pulling me east along the Gulf Coast, out of the radiation zone. My kit has been fully decontaminated and the machine I've now dubbed as “Checkers” remains in dormant mode on the bow, covered with a tarp to keep the salt spray off. It's the only thing on board
Solitude
still giving off radiation. Even after a thorough cleaning, I'm still getting some static from the Geiger . . . not a lot, but enough to make me keep it stowed topside in the elements instead of bringing it down to my sleeping quarters.