“I think I’d better go check on Stacy,” Josh said, knowing that if he didn’t, he would be too far gone to stop.
“I think you’d better lie back and think about baseball or something before you do,” Liv laughed.
“Um, ah, yeah, you have a point.” After a few minutes of chatting and talking about the trip ahead, Josh’s stature had somewhat returned to normal.
“I think that’s as good as it gets, for now.” He smiled and shimmied his way toward the exit.
“That didn’t take long,” Stacy snickered.
“What? I couldn’t fall asleep,” Josh said, blushing bright red at her smiling side-glances.
“We didn’t do anything, Stace!”
She laughed, “It’s okay, Captain, I’m just teasing you.”
“What are you, eleven going on thirty? And quit calling me Captain,” he said, trying to change the subject. “How are we doing, are we still on course?”
“Gosh, you were only gone a couple of minutes.”
“Stacy, stop it, okay?” Josh begged.
She laughed again, “Right on course, Skipper.” Josh just shook his head and checked the radar again.
The seas had picked up with the wind. Josh reduced their speed a little to make it more comfortable. Liv had gotten up around five o’clock and she and Stacy played Rummy for an hour. They all enjoyed the beautiful sunset and ate ramen noodles for dinner. The boat had a small—
very
small—galley. Not more than a couple of propane burners with a small sink, and the only counter space was the table directly behind the passenger seat across from the pilot’s chair. The passenger seat could swivel around to face either forward or backward toward the table. After dinner, Liv wanted Stacy to lie down for a nap, and joined her until Stacy drifted off. She came back into the main cabin looking a little pale.
“You feeling okay?” Josh asked.
“I am a little nauseated, now that you mention it,” Liv replied. “I took those Dramamine you gave me before we left.”
“Why don’t you take some more? You should be good; that was eight hours ago at least, right?” She didn’t answer Josh, but stood up and ran for the cabin door. She managed to make it to the rail before throwing up her noodles, but just barely.
Liv was sick all night long. Josh had her drinking diet cokes. That helped, but she kept getting sick. Stacy slept through the night, missing the never-ending moaning that had Josh about to commit Liv to the deep. Liv finally fell asleep around 4 a.m., lying on the floor of the main cabin with her head under the table.
As the sky in the east turned pale gray, announcing the coming sunrise, Josh turned at the Columbia River Buoy. They still had plenty of fuel, as they had been traveling much slower than he’d originally planned, but he was sure that they could make it the rest of the way if they topped off the tank here. It had taken them fourteen hours to make it this far, which meant they were only making about twelve or thirteen miles an hour.
Liv stirred as he pulled into the fueling dock of a little place called Ilwaco Harbor, at the mouth of the Columbia River. The wind was pushing the boat against the dock, so he’d no trouble leaving the helm to tie it off.
He went back in.
“Liv,” he said quietly. She moaned. “Liv, wake up. We’re in Washington.”
Her left eyelid cracked open a fraction.
“Oh god, I don’t think I can do that again,” she mumbled. “I feel like crap and my mouth tastes like someone died in it.”
She whimpered as he helped her sit up. She held her hand out.
“Oh god, I’m gonna puke.”
Josh had expected this and pulled out the five-gallon bucket he’d retrieved from the dock for this exact purpose.
“Go ahead, get it out of your system.”
She vomited up nothing but diet coke, then dry heaved for a minute or two.
“Oh God, just fucking shoot me!”
She started crying. Josh got down on the floor and held her, trying not to puke himself. With snot and vomit on her face, she looked at him and wailed like a—well, like a woman who had been puking all night. The commotion woke Stacy and she came barreling out of the bow berthing area, looking totally freaked out.
“Mom, what’s the matter?”
Josh held up his hand.
“She’s going to be fine, Stace, she’s just been a little seasick.”
With that, Liv bent forward and dry heaved a few more times.
“A little?” she managed to say between heaves, then continued crying.
“Stacy, come sit with your mom while I go check this place out,” Josh said. “I may be gone for a while, so I’m leaving the pistol with you guys.” He grabbed his wrecking bar and headed out.
“Be careful, Josh,” Stacy said.
They had plenty of food and water, but Josh sorely wanted more firepower. He was also looking for something else: some pot. He remembered a fishing trip when he was really seasick and one of his friends offered him a hit off his joint. Josh didn’t smoke the stuff, but he was desperate and willing to try anything. The one toke was magic. A few minutes later, the seasickness was gone. He knew they had recently legalized marijuana in Washington, so he felt his chances of finding some were good.
He climbed the ramp leading from the fuel dock to the parking lot. There were a few cars and trucks parked around. He walked over and began peering in the windows. If he didn’t find anything, he was facing a long hike to the other side of the harbor, where the shops and hotels were located. He didn’t find anything of interest in the first couple of vehicles, except a couple of bodies. One looked like it had been attacked by one of the crazies, but he couldn’t see any physical damage to the other—maybe a flu victim. He wasn’t going to break into a car with a body unless he saw something he couldn’t live without. He saw a pickup truck with an NRA sticker in the window.
That’s promising
,
he thought.
He walked around the truck, checking under each wheel well, hoping to get lucky and find a key keeper. No such luck. He used his universal key to bash in the passenger window. The wrecking bar was quickly proving to be his favorite tool. He reached in, unlocked the doors, and began searching the vehicle. He found nothing under or behind the seats. He opened the glove box only to find nothing of value. He flipped up the lid on the center console without much hope; it was too shallow to hold a gun. Sure enough, there was no gun there.
Must have taken his gun with him,
Josh mused. Then he saw the set of keys under some loose papers. He pulled them out and clicked on the lock button,
bah da bing!
Now he didn’t have to walk. He hopped in the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition. It started up without a problem. He put it in drive and headed for the other side of the harbor.
As he drove, he passed a storage area with a bunch of boat trailers. It gave him an idea. What if they pulled the boat out of the water and towed it to Port Townsend? It would save time, and besides, getting Liv to go back on the water was going to be a tough sell. He could just steal a boat when they got there, but he really liked this boat and was becoming familiar with its operation. He would have to think about it.
He passed several restaurants, hotels, and salmon charter places, but no pawnshops, gun stores, or marijuana dispensaries. His hopes waning, he almost missed the Pacific County Sheriff’s SUV parked at the Harbor Lights Inn & Lounge. The doors of the Ford Expedition were open on both the driver and passenger side. Josh stopped and got out of the pickup. He approached the sheriff’s vehicle cautiously. There was no sign of the deputies. The keys were in the ignition, and it appeared they had abandoned the vehicle and left it running. The shotgun was missing from the rack and there were no weapons in the back, either. A sign on the wall said “Lounge,” with an arrow pointing toward the back of the building, which faced the harbor.
He went down the breezeway, and as he came around the building, the stench hit him like a cold fish to the face. A cloud of blowflies ascended from two bodies and swarmed around his face. Josh backed up, spitting and cussing at the same time. He pulled his T-shirt up over his mouth and nose to keep from inhaling the flies. Neither of the bodies was a deputy, but both had been shot with a shotgun and looked like they had a really bad sunburn. What was it Liv said? The ghouls didn’t burn up, they just turned red and died. This proved that theory, he supposed.
He opened the screen door to the bar. As he turned, he pulled down his T-shirt, thinking the worst was behind him—but the death and devastation was everywhere. Strewn around the entrance were a dozen or more corpses. They stank so bad that Josh couldn’t hold back; he blew chunks all over them. Even as he threw up, he thought,
Now I have to dig through this pile to find the cops and their shotgun.
There wasn’t enough left of them to really make out whether they were women, men, cops, or crazies. It was just a jumble of maggot-infested chewed-up bodies, some of which seemed to stare at him accusingly.
“Oh God, I don’t know if I can do this,” he said aloud. He stood there for a full minute just looking.
He sighed. “Job’s not going to do itself.”
He looked around the bar. The only light was from the door and a couple of windows up high on the wall, but it he hoped was enough to keep any more of them from attacking. He tiptoed through the mess and got a pool cue from a rack on the wall. He used it to poke around the bodies, trying to refrain from touching them. He thought he found one of the deputies wearing what looked like a gun belt. He would have to roll the body over to make sure, and he couldn’t do that with the cue. He thought about just leaving, but he needed the guns. He reached down, grasped the boney shoulder with one hand and the pelvic bone with the other, and rolled it over. Sure enough, there was a semi-auto pistol on the floor. He picked it up and set it on a chair near the door.
He went back to the body, unbuckled the gun belt, and tried to pull it free. Instead of pulling free, the belt caught ahold of something and the lower half of the body turned as he pulled. The upper half did not follow it and lay there facing him. He began dry heaving and couldn’t stop. He staggered back, pulling the body along with him. He tripped over another body and fell into the pile, all the while gagging so hard it hurt his ass cheeks.
He rolled over onto his hands and knees. Now covered from head to toe in maggot-infested flesh goo, he scrambled to his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Fuck you, fucking fuckers!”
He got back down on his hands and knees and tore through the remains of what had once been people. He flung body parts and bits of flesh and bone against the walls and ceiling, screaming profanities at them for being dead. He found the shotgun about halfway through the pile and sat there and cried. He rocked back and forth, sobbing, holding the shotgun and gun belt close to his chest. He eventually calmed down enough to retreat from the bar, retrieving his pistol on the way out. The flies greeted him as soon as the screen door banged shut, but they didn’t faze him. He just stepped over the bodies and kept walking. Back at the truck, he threw the shotgun and pistol in the cab and went back over to the deputy’s SUV. He opened the hatchback, dug through the boxes in the cargo area, and found a case of shotgun shells. He strode back to the pickup and threw them on the seat, got in, and started it up. All he could think of was getting back to the boat and washing the shit off him.
Liv, still feeling the effects of no sleep, and still constantly throwing up, had lain down in the forward cabin after Josh left. She left Stacy in charge of watching out for any strangers, with orders to wake her if she saw anyone.
Stacy had gotten bored about an hour after Josh left, and fell asleep sitting at the table. She woke with a start after hearing tires squeal and a car door slam. She looked up to see a man coming down the boat ramp, covered in blood, carrying a shotgun with a crazed look in his eyes. She grabbed the gun, opened the door, pointed it in his general direction, and pulled the trigger. She got off three rounds before the gun hit her in the face with its recoil.
Josh realized his mistake as soon as he heard the first bullet whiz by him. He dropped the shotgun and dove headfirst into the water. He surfaced and heard Stacy crying.
“Stacy! Stacy, are you all right? It’s Josh, Stacy. I’m sorry I scared you,” he called out from behind the dock.
He waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he pulled himself up onto the dock and got to his feet. As he stood, Liv plowed through the cabin door, screaming.
“Stace! Stace, oh Stace, what happened, are you okay?”
He ran to the boat and found Liv on the deck, holding her shirt to Stacy’s face.
“What the hell happened, Josh?”
“I came back covered in blood from a bunch of dead people and she must not have recognized me,” he said, still partially covered in dried blood and goo. He started to climb in the boat.
“Josh, don’t! Go wash all that shit off, she’s bleeding and I don’t want any of that to get on her,” Liv yelled at him.
He turned, feeling about an inch tall, and went over to a hose connected there at the dock. He squeezed the handle, and a little dribble of water spurted out and then quit. He turned and jumped back into the frigid water.
Liv held Stacy tightly and kept pressure on her cut nose.