Induction

Our numbers had been cut down to eight. The dead now ruled our home. The roof and parking lot revealed the bloody forms of friends and family members as we flew away. The fuel tanker sat near the store’s front wall. Sanchez, that rat bastard, stood next to it and stared hungrily up at us as we made our escape. His face was too much for me to bear. I lost myself in anger as I looked at him and before I knew I was even moving, I had raised my rifle and sighted down on him.

The glare from the fuel tank’s shiny body glinted in the scope and I adjusted my aim. Two short bursts on automatic were all it took. One burst to puncture the tank and let the fuel spill to the pavement. A second burst to ignite the vapors. The aircraft lurched as the energy released from the explosion radiated outward. Seth, thankfully an experienced pilot, regained control and hovered at a safe distance.

We all watched as the flames licked up the walls of the store. The explosion had demolished a large part of the front wall, and sent flames through its aisles. The clothes of the store’s former inhabitants ignited on contact and turned the undead into charred crisps stumbling among the wreckage, refusing to die. This was the new world’s way of holding a funeral. The dead crumbled on their pyre, and Seth turned us toward the lighthouse.

Chapter 18 Merry Fucking Christmas

It turns out Mrs. Talbot had a first name after all. Adam addressed her as Nancy as he apologized for the loss of her husband. I felt selfish. After living with nearly one hundred people for over a week, I knew only a handful of them. I had made no efforts to connect with them, and that would change. This ragtag group of misfits was all I had left.

We were right about Sanchez. He’d hidden a bite from the group. I don’t know if it was denial or the act of a coward not wanting to be put down like a wounded animal. Upon return from our scouting mission, he’d told Ellis, I think that was his name, that he needed to use the john, and wasn’t seen again. Whatever his reason, he never left the men’s room after we returned from our failed search and rescue mission.

Nancy told us Jim woke to use the restroom sometime before dawn and never returned. He walked into the bathroom as unsuspecting prey to receive the kiss of death from Sanchez, who had been lying in wait for the door to open, his reanimated brain not smart enough to turn the knob. Once he turned, the two of them made easy work of the sleeping group. Lieutenant Dan and his men were alerted by the screams, but by the time they made their way from the barricade, the situation was beyond containment.

The ride to the lighthouse was considerably faster than it would have been on land; there were no obstacles in our path to navigate. It was immediately apparent that our Plan B location was a bust as we crested a group of trees and saw the landscape below. The area was teeming with undead. More than we had bullets to dispatch. Plan C was in effect and we changed course to reach Cape Harbour and search for a houseboat.

Cape Harbour was one of the city’s more affluent areas. It wasn’t long before we spotted a viable option. Our biggest problem would be landing safely and making it to the boat and away from the dock without being attacked. We had four rifles among us, with a box of ammunition in the back of the helicopter. In addition to needing the ammunition, we would need to transport the ten cases of water and food. This would likely require multiple trips. We knew we had one shot at making it happen. The sound of the blades would attract the undead in the area. The plan was to set down as close as possible and make a run for it. All able bodies without a weapon would carry supplies. Gabby was charged with Daphne patrol.

We hit the ground. Adam and I led the others to the boat while Seth and the soldier stayed near the bird and picked off anything that got close. A quick sweep of the houseboat revealed it empty. Nancy and the pregnant woman’s husband set to work untying the ropes and securing the boat. For the first time that day things went smoothly. Meg followed Adam and I back to the helicopter and with the help of the men, we cleaned the last of the supplies from it and hobbled back to the boat with our arms full.

The keys were in the ignition, a stroke of luck we hadn’t expected. The floating haven’s engine sprang to life on the first try and we slowly made our way out of the slip and into the harbor. Designed to navigate slowly through the waters, houseboats are built to be self-sustainable. Kind of like a floating RV, they offered luxuries we had been without since the outbreak began: safety, comfortable sleeping arrangements, and best of all cooking and bathroom facilities. The one we had chosen was more spacious than my own home.