We took the 90 freeway west to the marina. It was still dark when we arrived. We skirted the marina on Admiralty Way and then turned onto Palawan Way and into the marina proper. The gate was closed at the entrance to the yacht club. I nosed my Yukon up to the gate and moved forward. The gate buckled slightly and gave way. My truck pushed the gate aside.
We stopped in the parking lot in front of the yacht club. Abandoned cars, their doors askew, coolers, and clothing littered about all stood as mute testimony to the chaos that had transpired here. There were several bodies lying on the ground, but no signs of the undead.
Albert was out cold in the passenger seat snoring again. I got out of the truck and attached my CAR-15 to its sling. I pocketed two extra mags. I rooted around for my .45 but then realized that I had tossed it in the back with all my other weapons when we had fled my house.
I walked over to Alison’s Jeep and she powered down the window. I noticed that Grace was asleep. We didn’t speak for a few minutes, but just listened to the stillness. There was loneliness and desolation in the air.
Finally Alison spoke, breaking the silence. “What do we do now?” she whispered.
I looked out into the darkness. Over the buildings to the east I could see a faint reddish glow. Either fires or the sunrise, I couldn’t tell which.
“I guess we wait for the sun to come up.” I said.
I told her to try to get some sleep and that I would keep an eye out. She nodded, powered the window back up, and clicked the door lock.
After I let Chloe out to do her business, I put her back in the truck and patrolled the parking lot. I looked in the darkened windows of the yacht club, and then walked along the fence line, looking out into the darkness. I could see several boats in their slips nearby but couldn’t see very far out into the marina itself.
There was a construction area on the north side of the parking lot where a section of block wall was halfway finished. Cinder blocks, boards, and sections of rebar lay strewn about. I accidently kicked a chunk of concrete and it skittered across the pavement.
I froze and held my breath. I heard something behind me and turned slowly. A figure stood thirty feet away in the deeper shadows of a building.
It stepped out and started toward me. It was an emaciated woman clad only in bikini bottoms, her bare breasts exposed. In life she had probably been a hottie, but now she was a hideous monster.
I brought my carbine up, took aim and squeezed the trigger. Click, nothing. I checked that the magazine was seated and pulled back the charging handle, chambering another round. Just as I brought the weapon up, the beach bunny from hell collided into me, knocking me back a few steps. I stumbled and tripped on a cinder block, landing on my back and knocking the wind out of me.
She was on top of me in a second, clawing at me. She opened her mouth and lunged at my face. I grabbed her shoulders, digging my thumbs up under her clavicles. Her arms flailed at me. I reached back and grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head around. A huge chunk of her greasy hair and scalp came out in my fist. I fired my palm into the hinge of her jaw as she lunged again with her teeth. I felt her jaw bone snap under the impact.
She missed my face and her forehead slammed into my shoulder. I panicked; worried that she might have bitten me. I shoved at her and kicked her off of me, rolling and scrambling to my feet.
The barrel of my f---ing useless carbine, still tethered to me, battered me in the knees and thigh as I spun around. She rose up, her jaw busted and hanging slack on her face. I fumbled with the quick release, trying to disengage the weapon so I could at least use it as a club. Just as the snap released, she charged and hit me again, her face and broken mouth pounding into my chest and neck repeatedly, trying to bite me, but unable.
I pushed her away, stumbling again in the process. I landed on my ass and fumbled blindly for my weapon. My hand wrapped around what I thought was the barrel of my CAR, but as I pulled it toward me, I realized it was a length of discarded rebar.
I struggled to my feet again and as she charged, I drove the end of the rebar down onto her skull with everything I had. She staggered, going to her knees. As she rose up, I swung the metal bar down again. This time I felt her skull collapse. Her body spasmed and she flopped to the ground.
My chest was heaving and pain signals shot to my brain from multiple locations. I heard the sound of rushing feet and before I could even turn, I was knocked face first into a pile of cinder blocks. I bounced off the pile and hit the pavement hard on my shoulder. I kicked and thrashed at my attacker blindly, my heel connecting with something soft. I scurried backwards in a crab walk. I looked up to see two more infected creatures fighting to get at me.
The closest one suddenly went limp and dropped. I heard the familiar whap sound of a silenced weapon behind me. I rolled and came up on my feet, hopefully out of the line of fire. The second creature, a muscle-bound guy in Bermuda shorts, reached for me.
I swung the rebar upward into his temple. He toppled sideways, his body hitting the ground like a sack of grain. My legs gave out and I sank to my knees. My breath came in ragged gasps. I turned and saw Alison, her Walther P22 held at the ready. Fear, anger, and embarrassment all fought for dominance in my mind. I slowed my breathing and my shakes subsided.
The first light of dawn broke over the horizon. Everything was quiet and peaceful again.
I got to my feet and retrieved my carbine. I held the rebar in a death grip with my other hand and walked unsteadily to Alison. She stopped me and put her hand to my forehead.
“You’re bleeding.” she said with concern.
My weapons clattered to the pavement as I frantically ran my hands over my chest, neck, and face, feeling for bite marks. I had several scrapes and abrasions, and my hands came away bloody, but I was safe.
We gathered up my weapons and Alison fished the first aid kit out of the back of the Jeep. I wanted to wait, as I felt vulnerable as hell standing out in the open, but Alison wouldn’t relent. While she was putting a bandage on my forehead Albert got out of the Yukon. He had his Ruger at the ready and scanned the area as he approached.
He looked me over and shook his head, gravely. By now the sun was peeking up from the east. Albert retrieved a pair of binoculars and scanned the marina. When he lowered them he did not look pleased. I looked around as well, noticing that there were only forty or fifty boats spread out in a marina that normally held close to five thousand.
Albert walked around the edge of the parking lot for almost forty minutes, searching for a serviceable ship. He finally called me over and handed me his binoculars, pointing out a large sailboat across the marina. He also pointed out a twin-engine speedboat in a slip accessible from where we were.
Normally, you have to get through a security gate to access the docks, but somebody had been kind enough to leave it open for us. We unloaded all of our gear from the vehicles, and in several trips carted it all down to the speedboat. Chloe raced around sniffing everything as we worked. I let her roam, figuring she would be a good early warning system if any other undead showed up. I walked back to my truck and put my keys on the dashboard, saying a silent goodbye to my Yukon.
Although we were seriously overloaded, our trip across the water to the sailboat was uneventful. Chloe perched at the bow on quivering legs but didn’t try to jump off. I was starting to feel nauseous and shaky from my ordeal with the locals. The rocking speedboat didn’t help at all. Grace was scared of the water and buried her face in my chest, soaking my shirt in tears and snot.
We pulled into the empty slip next to our target boat, a fifty-two-foot Hinckley cruising sailboat (according to Albert). I stood watch on the dock while Albert cleared below deck on the boat.
Albert checked out the diesel engine and the power systems while Alison and I transported all of our gear once again, this time stowing it all in the aft compartments of our new home.
At 11:30 a.m. we cranked over the engine and Albert guided us out of the marina. By noon we were on the open waters headed north.
I am feeling crappy, either from seasickness or exhaustion. After helping Albert set the main sail, he assured me he didn’t need anyone but Grace’s help (she is the ship’s official first mate).
I have settled in the aft stateroom with Chloe. A few minutes ago, Alison came in to check on me. She told me I needed to relax and started rubbing my shoulders. I don’t want to stop writing this, but her hands feel amaz…
DAY 41
I woke up with a start today, for a moment not remembering where I was.
The gentle rocking and the sound of waves brought me back. I sat up and looked at my watch. It read 8:38. I stared at it, watching the seconds tick by. Something didn’t make sense. It was daylight out. That’s when it dawned on me that I had slept for over nineteen hours.
A mild panic seized me and I rolled off my rack. I was wearing only boxers. I didn’t even remember getting under the covers, let alone getting undressed. There was a folded pair of my jeans and a t-shirt on the nightstand. I pulled them on quickly and opened the door to the hallway. I could hear Grace’s laughter coming from the main salon. Alison and Grace smiled at me and Chloe thumped her tail as I entered the room. Grace admonished me for being a “sleepy head” and went back to concentrating on her card game.
Alison, sensing my concern smiled again and said, “Everything’s good. Albert’s topside. Turns out he really does know how to sail.”
She told me to go see him and she’d make us all breakfast.
As I emerged onto the deck, a brisk salt wind assaulted me. Gooseflesh rose on my skin. The sky was bright and clear. Albert stood manning the helm, and gazing off to the west. He was truly in his element. He looked at me and grinned like a kid at Christmas. I sat on one of the cockpit benches and watched the open sea, neither of us feeling the need to speak.
After everything we had been through it was nice to just relax and not think. I finally asked him what I had missed. He told me that last night we pulled into Channel Islands in Oxnard. The marina there apparently looked like a war zone. All the homes near there had been burned to the ground and the undead were everywhere.
Still, Albert had anchored in the protection of the marina away from the shore and gotten some rest. Early this morning, he pulled anchor and put us on our current course headed north. He had been concerned about me but Alison had assured him that I was just exhausted.
When I told him I didn’t even remember getting undressed, he let me know that Alison had put me to bed and fallen asleep with me for a few hours. The first time a girl undresses me in a year and I sleep through it. Figures.
As we sat in the salon and had breakfast (I was a little nervous that nobody was at the wheel, but Albert didn’t seem concerned), we discussed our options. Albert suggested that we could sail up the coast as far as we wanted. We have a 140-gallon tank of diesel fuel as back up and both of our sails are in great shape.
Once again, we didn’t really have a solid plan and were leaves in a storm. After an hour’s discussion, we decided we are going to work our way north up the coast and look for any possible safe ports, or maybe even a costal population that is not infected. I personally think that there’s not much chance of finding very many others like us, but we’ll just play it by ear.
We were less than four hours south of Santa Barbara (if the winds held), and decided to stop at the marina there. In the meantime I took a shower and changed my bandages. My knee is screwed up again but I’m doing my best to ignore it.
I had to contend with a small logistics problem as Chloe couldn’t use the head like the rest of us. She had peed once in the galley and Grace had tried to get her to crap on the deck but Chloe apparently preferred constipation. I placed a square of carpet from one of the cabins up on the deck and convinced Chloe to relieve herself on it. I hosed off the carpet and left it there for future use.
One problem was solved, but there was a more pressing concern that I needed to look into. Yesterday my CAR-15 had failed to fire. I had ejected the round and chambered another, but didn’t get the chance to fire again.
I took it up on deck, aimed at the water, and triggered five rounds into the ocean. I went below and stripped the weapon down, cleaned it and reassembled it. When I tested it again, it worked perfectly. Although I’ll never know, as I never looked for the ejected round to examine it, I suspect that the bum round had a bad primer.
I removed every round from my seven magazines and examined them all, wiping down each bullet in the process. Alison came down to help and we cleaned all of my weapons thoroughly. I pulled out my Charter Arms .44 special revolver, and decided that I will carry it with me at all times from now on. I have a paddle holster for it that rides easily on my left side and allows me to draw the weapon quickly. I also found the fifteen-inch section of rebar that had saved my life at the marina.
Relying solely on firearms up until now has been a mistake. I wrapped the bottom six inches of the bar with layers of cloth tape for a handle and now have a serviceable baton. I strapped it onto my tactical vest with the handle sticking up over my shoulder. I’m now good to go.
Late this afternoon we arrived at the Santa Barbara marina. What we saw was discouraging. A two hundred- foot Coast Guard cutter had entered the marina and plowed through several rows of slips, sinking everything in its path. The slips and docks on the shore side had been burned and sunk into the harbor. The tips of masts from several larger ships poked out of the water. Smaller vessels floated aimlessly on the ocean. There were no signs of the living or dead anywhere.
We tied off on a free-floating dock at the entrance to the marina. Although the place looks abandoned, we agreed to take guard shifts tonight. I went first from 8 p.m. to midnight. It was pretty uneventful for the most part.
Around 11 p.m. I heard the faints sounds of moaning undead in the wind, but couldn’t locate the source. Alison came up on deck to relieve me at around 11:30 p.m. and we talked until 1 a.m. I only left because she insisted that I get some rest. It’s time to sleep now.