Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Day Seventeen (6th January – 1:50PM)

Disillusioned. That's how I felt as I made my way up the lightly sloped road, walking past the open metal gates that would normally prevent public access to the area. The gates moved ever so slightly in the breeze, whining as the rusted hinges moved.

This wasn't how I'd expected my adventure to end. I'd always thought I'd be the last man standing in this endless struggle; yet here I was, marching to my demise. At least I was doing something useful with my last day on this planet.

"Nearly there. Can't you hear that?" Dave said to me, glancing over his shoulder at me as he walked ahead. I listened for a moment, and the sound of chattering people reached my ears.

The boat was really there.

And that, I really couldn't believe. I had fully expected to arrive here to a litter of corpses and not a single vessel in sight. But by the sound of it, it was actually there. I felt a smirk appear on my face as I continued my walk towards the sound.

"They'll be safe, right?" I asked, wiping the grin off of my face as I tuned back into the seriousness of reality.

"They will if you help, Ethan. That's for sure." Dave responded, pulling out a cigarette from his packet before lighting it. I wondered if his pack was unlimited, and he could just pull them out indefinitely.

The pain in my head had lessened slightly, as though I were getting used to it. But it was still present, growing more intense every now and then as the pain pulsed through my mind. I gritted my teeth and adjusted the position of my rifle as I made my way around a makeshift checkpoint.

As I passed the checkpoint, I heard the sound of static and muffled voices. Investigating, I entered the little shack that the survivors here had made and discovered a walkie-talkie. I picked it up and put it to my ear as I continued to walk.

"This is 'Last Order' to port. We are 75% ready for departure." a voice sounded through the light static. The voice was slightly distorted and tinny, the receiver must be slightly damaged.

"Good, Last Order. We'll keep lookout until all civilians are safely on the vessel." called another voice, a little more gruff in tone. In all probability, I was listening to a conversation between two soldiers, one on the boat and one on the port, assisting in the transfer of survivors.

Last Order. That name reminded me of my nights out with my friends, hitting the pubs until last orders were called. Wondering if my friends had made it out of the city alive, I doubted I would see any of them here.

Fun times, all in the past now, though.

"Roger that, port." the man from the boat said before the light sound of static filled my ears. Following the signs on the road and the sound of voices, I turned a corner to my right and continued to trek across the damp tarmac.

"They're nearly ready. There's going to be one hell of a noise soon." Dave said, his gaze directed at the walkie-talkie that I was clutching in my hand.

"Yeah, we'll deal with that." I said, grimacing slightly as I visualised what I was about to do. Stepping over a corpse, I looked ahead to a fenced-off area about two hundred metres away and made my way towards it.

This would be my last stand.

"Last Order, we have a fresh batch of survivors. How do we proceed?" said the rough voice from one end of the walkie-talkie. My eyes opened wise as I heard the faint sound of John's voice from the speaker and the smile returned to my face as I realised they'd made it.

"Port, any signs of infection?" The man on the boat asked, his voice sounding oddly surprised.

"Negative, Last Order. No visible symptoms are present." said the other man after several seconds, I could only guess that the man was giving my group a once over.

"Port, ready them for boarding." said the soldier on the boat.

I'd finally reached the fenced-off area at the end of the road and quietly pushed the gate open, slipping into a maze of metal containers. I hesitated as I followed the spray-painted arrows that lead to the boat, did I really want them to watch me die? Could I put them through that?

And on that note, the first horn bellowed loud through the air, echoing in the distance as it reached the many empty buildings in the area. This was my call, and I proceeded to walk out from the shelter of the containers and the boat finally came into view, along with a multitude of people.

"It's fine, Ethan. Don't think about it." Dave said from behind me, patting me on the back in a display of comfort.

"Okay. Let's do this." I said, taking the rifle off from my shoulder as I looked at the walkie-talkie ; as I walked away, I could hear a voice issue from the device.

"Last Order, we have an unidentified person approaching the evacuation area." sounded the soldier on the port, who I could now see holding a device similar to mine.

"Infected, port?" the other voice issued from the speaker. There was a queue of people slowly making their way up the ramp onto the large boat, which appeared to be a ferry of some sort.

"Negative. Target is carrying weapons." the soldier on the ground declared, waving his free hand over at me.

"And that's where you're wrong." I said into the walkie-talkie, holding it to my face.

"Survivor. Explain yourself!" the soldier on the ground roared into the speaker.

"Keep your distance. I'm here for one thing." I said calmly into the device, making my way over to an area surrounded by metal canisters. Propping myself up on a crate, I kept the rifle steady with one arm while I talked with the other.

"And that is?" the soldier asked curiously.

"To protect you. That horn is currently drawing in every infected in the damn area. And I'm here to make sure you leave safely, since I can't come with you."

"That's.. the craziest thing I've ever hear-" the voice started, before being cut off as I watched Shaun take the device from his hands.

"Ethan! What the hell are you doing here?" Shaun bellowed into the walkie-talkie, and I moved the device away from my ear slightly as his distorted voice rang in my ears.

"Saving your asses." I said, smirking rather casually as I spoke. In the distance, I swore I could hear maniacal rambling. When it came to identifying sounds, the infected were rather clever. They'd be here any minute now.

"You don't have to do this!" Shaun croaked, staring at me from the side of the boat. Glancing around the area I had seated myself on, I spotted a megaphone lying on the ground.

Perfect.

"Yeah, I do. Get on the boat and pass me back over." I demanded of Shaun, who decided it was best to do as I asked, handing the device back over to the soldier.

"Survivor, what do you suggest?" the soldier asked, his rough voice sounding a little softer now for some reason. The pain in my head ramped up in intensity as he voice resonated painfully in my ears.

"Get on the boat, get everyone on the damn boat! Now!" I exclaimed, pointing at the boat. The sounds of footsteps and shouting grew audible now as the second horn sounded, and I could make out faint shadows from the little maze of containers that I had entered from.

On that note, everyone began to dash onto the boat as the infected finally came into view. As I glanced over my shoulder at the boat, I saw the rest of my group standing on the deck of the ferry, staring at me. There was someone missing, but I didn't have time to figure out who, as the infected began their mad dash.

"Survivor. We are ready to depart. Godspeed." a voice issued from the walkie-talkie, I raised it to my mouth one last time and spoke what I knew would be some of my last words.

"My name is Ethan Miles Fletcher. Don't forget this." I said calmly into the microphone before throwing the device aside. It bounced across the concrete floor before falling over the edge into the water below.

Leaping off of the crate, I picked up the megaphone and moved it to my face and shouted at the infected which were now scattering across the open expanse of dock.

"C'mon! Come get me! All you can eat!" I roared into the loudspeaker. As my voice echoed across the port, the infected all stopped for a moment before turning their attention to me. Placing the megaphone down on the crate, I brought the rifle up to my shoulders and took aim.

I really needed to stop referencing films, but I just couldn't resist.

Pulling down on the trigger, I spat hell fire into the bodies of the oncoming infected, who began to fall one at a time, sliding across the damp ground before they came to a complete halt, where other infected tripped over their corpses.

They were pouring out of the entrance in huge numbers, I couldn't even count how many there were as I unloaded my whole clip into the horde. The boat was moving slowly out of the dock now, the roar of its engine almost deafening.

There was no end to them as my rifle clicked, having ran out of ammo. I quickly pulled out another magazine and disposed of the empty one, sliding the new one in as fast as I possibly could, several infected were getting within spitting distance of me as I raised the rifle once more and fired lead through the air.

"Keep going." Dave said beside me, sitting on the crate. Now we were here, he was of practically no use. He couldn't exactly help me dispose of the infected, given that he was merely a figment of my imagination.

"I'm trying!" I roared at him, pulling down on the trigger of the rifle.

The recoil of the rifle barely fazed me, only pulling me forward a little bit. My aim was as true as my words, infected falling one after another. The pain in my head grew to dizzying levels and I felt myself sway slightly, like a tree in the wind. There was no end to the slew of infected that was hurtling towards me. The boat was nearing the end of the dock now.

This was the last magazine I had for this rifle, and it was running out fast. I fired in short bursts of three or four rounds at a time. The infected were drawing close to me now as the rifle clicked; I threw it aside and pulled out my sword.

I kicked an infected back and plunged the blade into its head, quickly ripping it out as I began to make my way towards a truck full of gas canisters. I had an idea.

Dragging my blade through the air, I decapitated an infected that had gotten too close to me as I continued to run over to the truck, leaping up onto the back of it.

This is the end.

It was a neat idea, I'd barely feel anything at all. I'd end how I started, with one big bang and the ground shaking beneath me. I wasn't even scared of dying now; like Dave, I had decided long ago that I'd rather die than become just another rambling infected.

I waited for as many infected to approach the truck as possible, kicking them off of the sides of the vehicle as they tried to climb it. There were at least twenty infected surrounding me as I stood there, waiting.

Warning. Extremely flammable. Propane.

I had been lied to, time didn't slow down at all when you were about to die; it just kept going and going at the same speed. I barely had time to think about what I was doing as I pulled out my handgun.

Letting out a deep sigh, I pointed the handgun down at the canisters below me. I closed my eyes and slid my finger over the trigger. Deafening, maniacal roars filled my eyes as I pulled the trigger.

I could see the light through my closed eyes as something burned away at my body, It felt as though I were being torn apart, the pain of the infection didn't even hold a candle to this; I couldn't hear anything and I couldn't see anything now.

And that was the last thing I felt before I ceased to be.

The pain of redemption.

Epilogue

Day Seventeen (6th January – 2:37PM)

Such a spectacular explosion. It tore apart everything in its path, leaving behind nothing but charred scraps of metal and flesh. The smoke billowed up high into the air, obscuring the truck from view.

I felt my eyes water slightly as I stood on the deck of the boat, which was now moving towards the open gates that lead to the river. I bit my lip and wiped my eyes dry, turning away from the smoke and debris.

One hell of a send-off.

"Jesus.. Ethan.." I heard Shaun say beside me, I patted him on the back and pulled out my pack of cigarettes, sliding one out into my mouth, lighting it in one fluid motion before taking a long, well-deserved drag from it.

Here's to you, kid.

Turning around to face Shaun and the vicinity of the explosion, which was getting further and further away with every second, I noticed him saluting in that direction. Hesitating for a moment, I raised my free hand to my head and proceeded to copy Shaun.

"He was a good kid." I said, my voice sounded rough even to my own ears. I took another smoke-filled breath and turned away from the side of the boat once more.

"That he was.. I just wish he could've been here with us, Vince." Shaun croaked, clearly fighting back tears.

"There was nothing you could have done.." I said, trying to reassure him, but I felt as though my words would never reach him.

Sat on a crate in front of me were John and Claire, the former of which had his arms around the latter, who was silently crying, holding her hands to her face.

"I.. don't know what to say." John said, at a loss for words, his voice cracking slightly.

"Not much to say.. He sacrificed himself for us." I said, biting my lower lip once more, struggling to find words to say. I hadn't known the kid that long, but he seemed like a good man, through and through.

"I can't believe he's gone, just like that." Claire suddenly said, lowering her hands from her face.

"He did one hell of a last stand.." John sighed, standing up to doff his hat in respect, before sitting back down. He was silent, merely staring at the hat and I wondered if the kid had given it to him.

"Survivors. We are now on-route to Rotterdam.." a voice issued over the intercom system. There were several people on this side of the boat, whispering to each other and casting nervous glances in our direction.

"Who was that guy?" a tall man asked his red-headed companion. I took one last drag from my cigarette before throwing it overboard.

Taking a look up at the sky, I spotted a flock of seagulls fly overhead. I felt suddenly at peace with everything, as though none of what I had experienced had really happened.

Ethan had given me one thing, the gift of life. And I wasn't going to take it for granted.

A few hours later, and we were at sea, making our way across the expanse of water that separated us from mainland Europe. Every now and then, a bird would fly past the boat and make somebody twitch nervously.

I took a little stroll back up to the front of the boat, where everyone else was and took a look over the railings at the water below, which was seemingly very calm.

I let out a deep sigh and turned around to examine the survivors on this side of the ferry. There were at least twenty of them, all huddled together in little groups, while we were scattered across the ship. Shaun was busy talking to the soldiers at the back of the vessel and John and Claire were still sat in the same place, just staring off into the distance.

Passing John, my attention was drawn to a little girl who was sat on her own near the railings. She had her head in her hands and was moaning in pain.

"Are you.." I started to ask, but found myself cut off as the girl looked up at me, her pupils dilating as her right eye went red.

I surprised John as I ripped the handgun out of his pocket and drew it on the girl, who looked up at me with tear-stained eyes. John and Claire stood up to stare at the girl, and everyone went silent. All that could be heard was the sounds of waves washing against the side of the boat.

Are you kidding me?

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