Floodwater Zombies (36 page)

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Authors: Sean Thomas Fisher,Esmeralda Morin

BOOK: Floodwater Zombies
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“Hang onto something!” Hooper screamed, grabbing the side of the boat with his good hand.

 

The pavement became clearer as the boat approached the hill, the rain slowing to a sprinkle. Rory lifted a switch that raised the prop as the water grew shallow. The prop reached the top and the boat’s belly smacked into the blacktop, throwing everyone forward. The steering wheel jerked from Rory’s grip as the boat scraped against the highway with a blood-curdling screech. The back end cleared the water and slid out to the right, shooting sparks off the wet pavement. The bloody ski boat slid sideways and came to a jerky stop in the middle of the road.

 

The rumbling inboard filled their ears, masking the sound of their gasping breaths. Rory turned the key and cut the engine. A breathtaking silence fell upon them. No one moved. Without the heavy drum of pouring rain and the hollowed out death moans that had been haunting them for the past several hours, the quiet was palpable. Just then the sun finally began to peek through the disbanding clouds for the first time in what seemed like forever. Flooded lake water gently lapped at the black top fifteen feet behind the boat as a lone goose flew by overhead, sending out a honking invite for company.

 

Rory turned to Rachel, his heart pounding inside his chest. “You okay?”

 

She met his wide eyes and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips against his. They kissed deeply, taking in as much of each other as humanly possible, like they were the only ones on the entire planet. Their lips pulled apart, silver ropes of saliva still connecting them. They stared into each other’s eyes, trying to catch their breath.

 

“Promise you’ll never leave me again,” she whispered.

 

He pulled her trembling body closer, feeling her heart beat against his chest. “I promise.”

 

She hesitated, studying his sincerity, and kissed him again, cupping his cheeks with her pruned hands.

 

“Are you two going to get married?”

 

“Alex!” Kourtney laughed. “Don’t be rude.”

 

Hooper struggled to his feet, favoring his right arm. “When they do, I’m picking up the bar tab at the reception.”

 

Rory’s face dropped.
“Seriously?”

 

Hooper laughed. “Yes,
Deputy Callahan
, I am.” He smiled at Rory who could only chuckle in response. “You are the man!” Hooper announced, recoiling with another stabbing pain.

 

“That sounds so weird,” Rachel said, peering into Rory’s bloodshot eyes. “
Deputy Callahan
.”

 

Hooper took a deep breath of the fresh morning air and surveyed the scene around them. “All right, everyone
reload
whatever
ya
got left,” he said, trading out clips with one hand. “We’re not out of this yet,” he said, wincing as his bad arm instinctively slammed a clip in.

 

Kourtney brushed a tear from her cheek and began sniffling, staring blankly at the water behind them. “I just can’t believe that...”

 

Alex rested a hand on her knee. “It’s okay, mom. Grandpa’s in Heaven with Grandma now, right?”

 

She dried her face with her hands and smiled. “He sure is, sweetie. And if I know Grandpa, he’s probably already got Grandma at some beautiful lake with a rod and reel in their hands.”

 

Alex dropped his gaze to a bloody ear stuck to the boat’s dash.
“Maybe not a lake.”

 

Kourtney followed his gaze and her smile quickly faded. She brushed a leaf from his face and took his hands, opening a dam of pent up tears.

 

 
Alex met her sad eyes and swallowed. “But I sure am gonna miss him.”

 

Kourtney tried to smile but a frown pushed it down. “I know, A-Man, me too.” Her bottom lip quivered as she swept him up into her arms and hugged him like she hadn’t seen him in months.

 

Rory sighed and let his arms drop from Rachel’s waist. She stepped back and held his hands while he stared off into the woods with unfocused eyes, the horrid events of the past forty-eight hours trying to catch up to him. The campfire, Clutch, Kate and Ashley, Deputy Myer and Johnson all clicked through his thick mind like a fuzzy slide show. All the rotting corpses and screaming and blood slipped through his mind in no particular order, a gruesome collage of events that reassembled itself at will.
And of course, Woody.
It still didn’t seem real.

 

“Hey,” Rachel said softly, squeezing his hands. “We’re going to be okay.”

 

Rory tried on a smile that didn’t fit, his mom and dad suddenly flashing through his mind. “We’ve got to get home.”

 

Rachel opened her mouth to respond when a branch snapped somewhere in the trees next to them. They all drew their weapons, sweeping pointed barrels around the boat.

 

“Stay frosty,” Hooper whispered, swinging his gun from tree to tree.

 

“Will this gun even work anymore?” Rachel asked, aiming Rob’s .38 at shadows in the woods. “It’s soaking wet.”

 

“It’ll work,” Hooper said flatly, scanning all around them.

 

“I’m low on ammo,” Rory whispered, his eyes jerking back and forth along the tree line.

 

“So am I,” Kourtney grimly added.

 

“Let’s get to the top of the hill and get away from the water,” Rory whispered. “They’re powerless without the water and it’s not raining anymore.”

 

“Good idea,” Hooper replied, moving towards the front of the boat. “Rory you hop down first. We’ll cover
ya
.”

 

“Freeze!” bellowed out from behind them.
“Hands in the mother fucking air!”

 

Rory hesitated before slowly raising his hands, still gripping his gun. “We’re not infected!” He turned to a young man with a brown crew cut emerging from the trees on the other side of the boat. The tight grip on an assault rifle bolstered the paranoia seizing the man’s face. It was hard to tell if he had smeared black paint across his face or if it was just that dirty.

 

“Well we’ll just see about that,” said another voice.

 

Rory spun around to see a tall black man walk out of the woods, his camouflaged uniform just as wet as everything else. The way he nonchalantly held a nine-millimeter at his side made Rory nervous. “Now everyone just relax. I’m Major Grundy with the United States Army and this is Private Murphy. You are in a restricted quarantined zone, which is a very unfortunate dilemma to be in at the moment.”

 

Rory swallowed dryly.
“Quarantine?”

 

“But aren’t you in the quarantined zone, too?”

 

Major Grundy arched a thin eyebrow at Alex. “Well technically, yes,” he said, hiding his sidearm behind his back. “But our job in the quarantine is to eliminate the threat at all costs.”

 

Kourtney frowned at the tall man and pulled Alex close. “Okay, you don’t have to get so graphic. He’s just a little boy.”

 

Grundy released a booming laugh, his eyes probing them. “By the looks of you all, I bet he’s grown ten years in the last twenty-four hours.” The Major’s muddy combat boots stepped onto the road.
“Everyone all right?”

 

“His arm is broken,” Kourtney said, pointing to Hooper.

 

“I’m okay,” Hooper insisted.

 

Grundy nodded, examining Hooper up and down. “Anyone get bit?”

 

Rory followed Grundy’s scrutinizing gaze to Rachel’s bloody forehead.

 

“I hit my head on the steering wheel,” she said, absentmindedly brushing the wound with her hand and wincing.

 

Grundy nodded again, studying them with narrow eyes. He holstered his gun and rested his gloved hands on his hips. “Well, it won’t take long to find out.” He smiled, flashing pearly rows of white teeth.

 

“’I’d say bout twenty
fuckin
minutes,” Murphy snorted, cocking his rifle.

 

“Easy Private,” Grundy warned with a low voice, casting a sideways glance at him and pulling a clove cigarette from a waterproof container in an upper pocket.

 

Hooper reached around his body and holstered his gun with his left hand, favoring his shooting arm. “I’m Sheriff Ryan Hooper with the Ward County Sheriff’s Department.”

 

Grundy lit up with
a gold
Zippo and took a long drag, looking unimpressed.

 

“Just what quarantine are you talking about?”

 

“Take a look around,
Sheriff
,” the younger soldier snapped, enunciating Hooper’s title as if it held no rank on him. “Anything seem out of the ordinary to you? Shit, they’ll probably nuke the whole goddamn place!”

 

“Murphy!”
Grundy scowled, snapping the lighter shut with a flick of the wrist and exhaling a stinky smelling stream of smoke into the air. “Shut up, and please lower your weapon.”

 

Murphy’s eyes dropped to the black assault rifle in his hands. His lips thinned as he lowered the gun, letting it hang by a black strap around his neck. “You’re the only people we’ve come across,” he said, resting his hands on the weapon.
“People who
ain’t
already dead anyway.”

 

“Do you know what they are?” Rachel asked, biting on a filthy pinky.

 

Grundy widened his stance and placed his hands behind his back. “Outside of the fact it seems as if the dead are coming back to life, we have no idea what’s causing it.”

 

Rory ran a hand through his wet hair. “Is it happening in town?”

 

Grundy raised his eyebrows. “Minot?”

 

Rory nodded.

 

Grundy lowered his eyes and exhaled tiredly. “I’m afraid so, son.”

 

“Shit!” Rory said, turning to face the water. “We have to get back there!”

 

“Is it happening anywhere else?” Kourtney asked.
“Anywhere in the country?
The world?”

 

Grundy’s eyes rose to meet her big browns. “Just here,
mam
,” he said grimly.

 

Rachel gasped. “Why here?”

 

Murphy snorted. “Maybe you people been
makin
deals with the devil or practicing voodoo.
Who the fuck knows?”

 

Alex wrinkled his face.

 

Kourtney narrowed her eyes and swallowed hard. “If you don’t watch your language,
Private
, I’m going to wash it out with lake water.”

 

Murphy frowned. “Well, this town pissed
somethin
off because you all just had Hell unleashed on
ya
. You people been
holdin
dog fights or
somethin
?”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Grundy bellowed. “You are dangerously close to getting a muddy boot up your ass!”

 

Murphy stepped back and lowered his head.

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