He bobbed up and down in the wake of the ship for a few seconds. I could see him doggy paddling toward the shore, when his whole body submerged below the water. He popped back up, arms waving frantically, screaming, “They are down there!”
He was pulled under again, and the water turned a dark red right where he was last seen. All I saw, before I turned back to the carnage on the deck of the ship, was the blood soaked orange life preserver bob up out of the water.
Despite our best efforts to fight them off, there were over a dozen of these things, and only a few of us left.
Mr. ’Stache had a handgun. He was screaming that he was almost out of bullets, as he followed a few of the creatures up the stairs to where the captain of the ship was driving the ferry. I heard a number of shots echo in the cabin, and then a few more screams.
Less than two minutes from land, I thought.
Looking over at Kyle, and then toward the stairs, I said, “Best to head up there.”
“Yep, we’ll be able to guard the stairs as a choke point if needed,” he agreed.
“We’ve got to make sure this ship gets to shore,” I snapped as we darted to the upper deck.
As we turned the corner at the top of the staircase, it was Mr. ’Stache we ran into first. He was still holding his gun, his finger locked on the trigger, but it was clearly out of bullets and pointed at the ground. His eyes moved slowly up to meet mine. His mustache blew in the wind.
Kyle said, “They got him.”
There was a pause, as I realized what we had to do. He ran towards us with that wild look in his bloodshot eyes. Kyle apologized out loud before delivering that final blow to his head.
No time to think about it.
We both headed to the cabin of the ship and quickly discovered that Mr. ’Stache had taken out the two creatures before they took that chunk out of his leg.
The captain was curled up in a ball in the corner of the cabin. He kept repeating,
“Not the water! Not the water! Not the water!”
He was right; the water must have been filed with those creatures and there was no way in hell any of us wanted to wind up in it.
I grabbed the steering wheel, and aimed the ship at the nearest shore where there was a road. Kyle ran back out to the staircase. I could hear him grunting as he swung his metal pole at each creature that tried to make it up the stairs.
Thirty seconds to ground. Thirty seconds until we could escape.
I reached into my pocket pulling out the keys to the Hummer. There was no slowing down this boat. We were going to make land.
Kyle ran into the cabin empty handed. He explained that he had dug the hook, at the end of the pole, into one of the creature’s brain, and couldn’t get it back out before it tipped overboard taking his weapon with it.
Ten seconds to ground.
“Anybody still alive, you should grab on to something, and don’t let go!” I screamed out the cabin window.
Five seconds to ground.
There was a point just before we hit, where everything literally stopped. My arms were clasped tightly around the steering wheel of the ship. I could see Kyle bracing himself in the doorframe.
I didn’t feel us hit ground as much as I saw it. Anything not nailed down, or holding on for dear life, simultaneously flew into the air crashing towards the front of the boat. I watched a red fire extinguisher shoot above my head and through the glass window; the captain of the ship followed it.
I swear we made eye contact as he flew over. His eyes were wide with a look of surprise, mixed with horror, as he passed above. He was lucky; the extinguisher had shattered the glass, so he flew straight through the window frame unscathed.
He passed right beyond the front of the boat, over our Hummer, and rolled into a ball as he hit a patch of grass. It was a million dollar landing. I watched as he stood up, brushed his clothes off, and looked back up at the boat from which he came. He gave it a look as if to say, “I friggin’ made it?”
It was in that instant that all of the zombies that had flown off the boat with him started to stand back up as well. He reached for the closest object, a wooden paddle that had landed next to him, and began swinging around his head.
He was doing a decent job of warding the zombies off, when it became clear that the boat crash had caused enough noise to catch the attention of every other creature in the area as well.
He began to cry out for help as he slowly retreated towards the water’s edge. The dead relentlessly followed him. For every one he knocked down with that paddle, three replaced it.
Kyle and I were already moving toward the stairs when the captain decided to step into the water. We began screaming toward him to stay on land.
“Do not go in the water!” Kyle yelled.
With no choice, the captain waded in waist deep, still swinging that paddle for all he was worth. We saw multiple sets of waterlogged arms reach up out of the water behind him.
There was a loud scream, then silence as they pulled him under. There was a fury of thrashing before bubbles arose. The paddle was all that was left, floating in the now calm surface, as if it never happened.
Keys in one hand, and my hammer in the other, I began a cautious descent easing past the dead zombie slain on the steps. The deck looked like a war zone. We had to navigate across a sea of blood soaked, shattered wooden planks before we got to the Hummer.
Being the last vehicle to have boarded the ferry, it wasn’t blocked in like some of the other cars. However, it was still parked in the entry position, so it became rather obvious that we’d be making a reverse exit.
I stepped towards the gate, which was still locked in the upright position, and I noticed that just beyond the ship’s walls were at least fifty of the undead. They were reaching up towards the railings, trying to get on board.
I watched as they started to crawl over each other to get to the top, a trait beaten into mankind over time. A trait that these creatures now carried with them even after death.
Unfortunately, they were really making progress. One of them had its hands on the railing. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was dressed in the kind of clothing one would wear camping. She had a small abrasion on her arm where another zombie had bitten her. Aside from that, she could have been confused with a living woman, except for her eyes.
They call it having a ‘tell’ in Poker. A tell is a change in a behavior or demeanor that gives a clue as to the hand the player is holding. In this case, some of these things could easily be confused with being “alive” if it wasn’t for their clear tell. Each zombie had blood-red eyes that were glazed over with a clear white film. A person always knows if they’re up against the living or the dead once they get close enough to see their eyes.
I walked over and cracked its skull open with my hammer. It fell limp, and dropped back into the crowd. I could feel it with each one. It was getting easier each time I had to kill. I was starting to feel distanced from the act, as if it wasn’t my arm swinging the hammer.
Kyle found the lever to drop down the gate. He pushed it forward, and the gate began to slowly lower. We both sprinted to the Hummer and jumped in. I slid the keys into the ignition, and looked out the rearview mirror. I could see the creature’s heads begin to emerge as the ramp moved further and further down. In the reflection of the mirror, they didn’t look that different from us.
There were a few moans, but mostly a large cracking and popping sound as the handful of creatures directly under the gate were flattened as it slowly descended. When it was low enough for the dead to begin boarding the boat, I put the gears in reverse, and smashed the pedal to the floorboard.