Roxanne's Story (Book 1): Survival in the Zombie Apocalypse (26 page)

She started to calm after that. He waited until she let out a big sigh and gently pushed herself away from him. She smiled at him, a rarity these days and said, “Yes, it did, didn’t’ it? Perhaps you are right. Perhaps our luck is changing.” She looked out at the water, “Perhaps the blackness will leave our hearts here” she whispered.

Unknown to them Lucky had been standing at the patio doors watching and had overheard the conversation. He had never seen Roxanne like that, had never seen her cry except for teardrops of passion. This had been a breakdown, a complete destruction of the past months and a rebuilding again, right before his eyes. He felt that it had been his fault that he hadn’t planned better, hadn’t protected her better, hadn’t provided better and had made decisions that went against her morals. He had misjudged her strength to cope after seeing the methods in which she had killed KC and Ed. He thought that she had hardened to death, could easily inflict death upon others and as a result of his miscalculation he had asked too much of her, expected too much of her while on their journey. He had once met a beautiful woman capable of providing for herself, making her own decisions, fighting her own battles and he had reduced her to a meltdown. He couldn’t stand to watch anymore and quietly stepped back into the shadows.

Brandon and Roxanne stood at the railing looking out over the water. “Is this the Tennessee or the Mississippi?” Roxanne asked.

“Don’t think we’re on a river; think it’s a channel to one of them though.”

“Do you know anything about boats? I’ve never been on one?”

“Not really. Had a boss once who owned a houseboat and would invite employees and their families sometimes. He let me pilot it for a short time.”

“Families?” Roxanne turned to him. She had never heard him speak of one and had never asked. In the past she had never wanted to know anyone’s story because it always ended in death. Everyone was on the road because of death and destruction and the stories were always the same.

Brandon looked down and was quiet, then softly said, “Let’s not go there, Roxanne.” Roxanne turned and looked back toward the wharf. “Wish Mutt would return.”

After a pause Brandon confessed “I don’t know if it’s real anymore, Roxanne. I mean I have these dreams about a family and I’m pretty sure I lived the life that I remember. But at other times I wonder if I’m in an insane asylum and I’m pretending that there are creatures called
zombies
out there who killed my family. That maybe I killed them and went insane afterward and that I’m locked up in a padded cell somewhere. Lately, I’ve been having awful nightmares and wake up confused only to see that I’m trapped in a different nightmare that I live every day.”

“So have I Brandon. I dream that I am ….sharing with someone but their face is always missing. It appears to be a normal day with normal activities of the past. You know, getting ready for work, but then it changes into shooting and cooking your dinner as if that is normal. And hanging a picture on the wall except that blood begins to drip from it and the whole time this faceless person is with me. I wake up not knowing if I just dreamt of the devil or if the face is blurred because I will kill that person one day. Like you, I wonder if I’m already insane and locked up somewhere.”

They were both quiet and then she added, “I think it may have been those mushrooms we ate a couple of days ago.” At this Brandon began to laugh and turned to see Mutt trotting up the wharf. “Come here you bad guy,” she called out. “I need to give you breakfast.”

“What are you two doing standing out here?” Lucky said. They turned to see him come out of the poker room with his duffle bag over his shoulder. “It’s past dawn already. We need to get a move on.”

“To where?” Brandon asked. Lucky just stood there, unable to give him an answer and looking confused.

“Lucky, we been moving for so long that you no longer know how to stop,” Roxanne said. “We’ve passed up too many places already. Places where we could have rested for three days to a week before moving on again. But each day we would move on and I never understood why, I just did it. It had become a habit with us, in fact we let the need to move obsess us. It’s time to stop and formulate a plan. This is a good place, this barge.”

“Barge?” Brandon expelled. “Please Roxanne; she has a name although I haven’t looked for it yet. But please do not insult her by calling her a barge. We need to talk to her lovingly if we want her to cooperate.”

“What are you two talking about?” Lucky asked. “This place is not stable. The first storm that comes along she’ll sink. She’s already tilting and none of us know anything about boats. If you want to rest we can stay a couple of days but I think we should keep moving.”

“If I can get it running,” Brandon said, “we can cruise the shoreline. Go in to the Marinas, cottages, summer homes to forage. We can drop anchor at night to be safe from zombies and cruise by day.”

“Do you even know where the anchor is?” Lucky asked.

“No. But I am going to have fun finding out. Now, if you’ll excuse me I am going to enjoy a breakfast which is a feast that we haven’t had in a long time, even if it’s just a can of boiled potatoes. But first, I’m going to wade out into the water to take this stink off me. I’m too weak to swim out but for one day, one damn day I am going to feel normal again.” With that Brandon crossed the plank to the wharf and began to take his shirt off as he approached shallow water closer to shore.

Lucky looked at Roxanne, “Do you agree with him? This is foolish. No one knows how to operate a boat.”

Roxanne crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, “All I can tell you Lucky, is that it feels right. This is a good place. It….called to me. You can say that’s crazy but I’m calling it intuition, which I have neglected for a long time. I want to give Brandon a try at this and will help him as much as I can. I think this barge….this riverboat is important to Brandon in the same way that The Park was important to me.”

They accomplished very little in the first three days on “Jenny”. Brandon had seen the name of the riverboat while sitting on shore. “I don’t think it was part of a chain of riverboats because it wouldn’t carry a single name. This was someone’s private source of income, but if it’s here then there must be small towns and Marina’s along the banks. I can practice piloting it within the channel and we can hit those places as a supply run. Maybe we are on a lake, hell I don’t know where we are.”

Their bodies kept demanding sleep, only allowing them three to four hours before shutting down again and demanding rest. Roxanne had found some first aid supplies and their deep cuts, scratches and sores were starting to heal. She discovered some clothes in the bunk rooms and they threw away the worst of their clothing, keeping only those pieces that would last a little longer. The clothes were too big for them since they had lost so much weight. One bunk room had a brush and comb and Roxanne decided to use the comb for herself but the brush would be Mutts. If they should leave this place she would pack it in her duffle bag. She swore that she would never let Mutt become that tattered again no matter how tired and hungry they were. Mutt resisted the brushing at first but once she had him cleaned up she felt that he really loved it and was just being stubborn.

Lucky had grudgingly given them this time but secretly Roxanne felt that he finally realized how necessary this rest period was. On the third day she walked into the Galley to see that Lucky had all the canned goods spread out on the table. Brandon was standing in the corner drinking the last bottle of Pepsi which he had tried to chill by putting it in the river. “At this rate we need to ration more,” Lucky was saying. “We should cut back from two meals a day to just one. The days are getting shorter and the nights are cooler. I think we may be into October and that means we can’t cover as many miles because of early darkness. We need to start building up our supplies again since there will be less wildlife to kill in the winter.”

“I’m pretty much ready in the next day or two to give Jenny a try,” Brandon said. “She has both a gas motor and a manual motor. Gas tank is empty but if I can turn the axle manually then the paddlewheels will move. From there it will be the water propelling through the wheels to keep it going. The faster the water is moving the faster Jenny will run. Her paddles right now are lodged on the bottom of the riverbed, but I found a handle that raises and lowers them. If I can get them raised and we can push her off shore then I’ll lower the paddles again and try the crank on the axle.”

“And if you can’t get the axle to turn,” Lucky said, “then we are adrift.”

Brandon shrugged his shoulders and drank the last of the Pepsi, “That’s pretty much what will happen. I don’t mind being adrift. She’ll just run aground somewhere else and we can start all over again from there. We’re always starting all over again from somewhere so what difference does it make?”

Roxanne reached into a tall cabinet and turned to slam a fishing rod down on the table. “Here’s one solution to rations,” she said. She looked at Lucky, “I remember when you looked at the boats at Beaver Creek and said you would be spending your time fishing there. So go to work. Me? I found a hammer and I’m going to find a rock and use it to sharpen my staff again, pound it back down into a point. Tomorrow Mutt and I are going to walk the shoreline and look for cottages. This wharf was here for a reason although I don’t see a home. It could have burned down or been destroyed in a hurricane but there should be others.”

She walked to the door and then turned once more, “Maybe I’ll find some frogs and snakes to eat.” She looked up at Brandon and smiled, “but I don’t think I’ll pick any mushrooms.”

The next day Mutt and Roxanne actually went into the timber and did not walk the shoreline. She was pleased with the new sharp point on her staff but knew that she needed to find another knife and axe. The ones she had were so blunt that it took too much effort on her part to be effective against a zombie. She hated to give them up since she had them with her before leaving Ed, but they no longer served their purpose.

She stayed within the timber at a point where she could still see the shoreline, but did not want to expose her presence in the open on the river bank. Strawberry and blueberry seasons were over and she did not know what would be ripe for picking in October. Pumpkins? She didn’t expect to find any of those. Mutt kept sniffing the ground but wasn’t picking up the scent of anything or anyone.

She saw another wharf extending into the water but all that was left on land was the foundation of a home. She began to wonder if this was a housing project that never got off the ground with wharves and foundations put in to attract buyers to build their own home. Further down she found a cottage with part of the roof gone and one side tilting dangerously. She stayed in the shelter of the timber watching the house, but Mutt did not given any indication that danger was near. He appeared to be completely relaxed but she approached cautiously with her staff ready.

She went to the side of the house still standing and peered into the window. It would not be a good place to take shelter unless it was from the rain and only on a temporary basis. The place was trashed inside with chairs and furniture turned over. She could see a waterline on the walls and knew that the place had been flooded. Unfortunately it looked like the side that caved in was over the kitchen and could not be reached. There were some overturned cabinets in what once had been the living room and she wanted to search those, but could not find a way in that would be safe. After circling the building she hoped that the bottom of the front door was rotted enough that she could kick it in and crawl under it. It was jammed too tightly against the frame work and had swollen making it impossible to move.

Her kicking was successful in shattering the wood but after kicking it once or twice she always turned and surveyed the area to see if the noise was attracting Ze’s. She told Mutt to stay and got down on her belly to pull herself in, taking her staff with her. Since the room consisted of both a daybed and some living room furniture she assumed that this was served as both a bedroom and social area. That would leave just the kitchen and a bath. She tried glancing into what she thought was the kitchen but the remaining roof and walls were gently swaying from the wind and she did not want to get trapped under it if it fell in.

She searched the one upstanding dresser but it only contained moldy clothes and some personal pictures that she did not want to see. She no longer wanted to see families of the world before or of happy events of long ago. That world was gone now and only brought pain.

One of the overturned cabinets contained steel cutlery but the riverboat had steak knives that would serve a better purpose. Then she pulled out a warped velvet box approximately 12” long and opened it to find soggy tissue paper. She went to wipe it away and immediately cut her finger on something sharp so she took her time after that.

The dagger was beautiful; something a collector would have displayed with an ivory handle that had images carved into it. Although the place had been flooded the blade was not rusted, in fact it glinted when she held it to the sunlight. She took her old knife out of its sheath and tried the new one, practicing a few times to draw the dagger from its new home. She suddenly felt like a new woman, felt the warrior coming back, felt the strength coming back.