“No, just keep fucking going,” Smith shouted. He dipped his head and closed his eyes for a second before winding up the passenger window.
Lowie had obviously gone the way of his best friend and probable lover, Freek. I felt bad for the pair of them as they were a couple of good guys to be fighting in your corner.
“Look out, Wilde Man,” Tony suddenly yelled.
I shook my head, turned my gaze dead ahead and realized the truck was heading straight for a clump of trees to the right of the track. I jerked the wheel left and over- steered onto the grass verge. I managed to get us back squarely onto the track although the whole cab rocked violently from side to side as the vehicle shuddered in the swerve.
“What the fuck are you doing, Wilde?” Smith growled, stumbling against the dash. “You trying to kill us all?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I glanced in the side mirrors but couldn’t see any sign of Lowie. Only the clusters of undead still surrounded the sides of the truck. “Shall I speed up and get us away from these undead jerks?”
“Yeah, hit the damn gas, Wilde Man,” Smith sighed, slumping onto the bench seat beside the passenger window. He pulled out his pack of smokes and offered them round. Every one of us took one.
I couldn’t drive much faster but did increase our speed slightly, just to put some distance between us and the undead crowd. The cab soon filled with cigarette smoke and I cracked open my side window slightly. The night air rushed in and smelled fresh and sweet compared to the sweaty, smoky vehicle interior.
We remained silent as I drove us further down the inclining road. I supposed we were all mulling over the events and thinking about the guys we’d lost.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked, checking the side mirrors for any undead hangers on at the truck’s sides.
I glanced at the faces beside me when I didn’t receive any reply. Dan, Tony and Smith all stared at the road ahead with their faces slightly illuminated by the faint glow of the lights on the dash. They all looked like ghosts in waiting.
“I said, what is the plan now?” I repeated in a louder tone.
“You know the way to the port town, Tony?” Smith asked. “What was the name of the place again?”
“Yeah, I know the way,” Tony muttered. “The place is called ‘
The Sunny Bay
’ in Spanish. It really don’t matter what its name is. It ‘aint ever going to be the same town. It’s all gone, the world is fucked.”
“Has it only just taken you this long to realize the world was fucked, Tony?” Smith said, laughing as he spoke. “You must have been doing some good shit for a while, kid. The world was fucked a long time before the dead rose up and walked.”
“It was fucked the day mankind started to make their mark on the planet,” Dan added. “We’ve beaten the crap out of the place for like, thousands of years, man. And now the planet has turned around and said –
fuck you, humans! I’ve had enough of your bullshit
.”
“You got that right,” Smith said. “Now, which way to the fucking port?”
Tony guided us back through the vacation village and along the island’s main route from south to north. The journey was slow going as the truck rumbled along the rocky, pot-holed roads and plowing through huddles of undead lurking in various spots on the grass verges or amongst clusters of trees. We carefully laid the weapons on the cab floor in front of Smith’s feet on the passenger side.
We drove by an abandoned armored truck similar to the one we were in. The vehicle was pointed at an odd angle and nose first into a tall clump of trees to the left of the track. Our headlights picked out a few zombies scrabbling around inside the dumped, blood stained truck cab. The doors were open and the undead were indulging in a feeding frenzy, huddled over a hunk of gore spread across the cab’s bench seat.
“Looks like some poor bastard copped it,” Tony sighed.
“Hopefully, it was the remainder of those militia jerks,” Smith said. “We could do without that bitch of a sniper still being around.”
Although I slowed the truck so we could all rubberneck and have a good look at the horrific scene, I didn’t stop to check for any survivors. I carried on trundling on our journey to the port town.
“Is that the right time?” I asked, pointing to an illuminated clock on the dash. The hands told me it was a little after four a.m.
Tony checked his watch. “That’s about right, give or take a few minutes. What does it really matter what the time is? It’s either night or day. That’s all that really counts, ‘aint it?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I muttered.
Tony’s negative attitude was starting to piss me off, although on reflection, I couldn’t be too harsh on the guy. I’d had more than my fair share of dark, depressing moments in the past. They’d just lost three of the guys they’d shared their lives with for the last couple of years. Tony and Dan were probably feeling a little shell-shocked. I decided to try my best to lift them from their gloominess.
“How far is it to the port town? I can’t see any of the road signs as they are all covered in weeds and shit,” I said.
“It’s only a couple more miles and we’re there,” Tony replied in a monotone voice.
“You had a lot of fun in town, huh? Back in the day?”
Neither Tony nor Dan answered. So much for me cheering them up.
Shut up, Wilde! You’re just making them feel worse by remembering the good times they’d had with their dead buddies
.
“Get as close as you can to the harbor, Wilde Man,” Smith said. “We’ll get a boat and sail it around the island to the warship.”
“Is that the plan?” I asked. Smith seemed to be full of half baked pipe dreams.
“Why? You got any better ideas?” Smith snapped.
“Well, for a start it’s still dark and probably very easy to smash a boat into that damn reef, presuming we make it around to the other side of the island.”
“It’ll be light in less than an hour, numb-nuts. We take our time and get around the reef. We have to start landing those guys on this island or we’re going to be stuck here fighting zombies on our own for a very long time.”
“Okay,” I sighed. Smith had a point. We’d just about exhausted all our luck and we needed the back up of McElroy and his crew, plus the firepower they brought along with them.
“We’re going to need a flat bottom boat. Any of those kinds of vessels in the harbor?” Smith asked.
Tony nodded. “There used to be some of those fancy vacation boats that took the holidaymakers out around the island. Only trouble is those things had glass bottoms. You know, so people could take a look at the fish and sea life and weird shit under the drink.”
Smith nodded. “Sounds like just what we need.”
“Don’t get too carried away, Smudger,” Tony said. “Those boats are more than likely not operational no more.”
“We’ll see,” Smith said. “Being a port town, there should be something we can use.”
“Don’t count on it, mate,” Tony sighed.
On a scale of one to ten, Tony’s enthusiasm was somewhere in the minus numbers.
The truck rumbled over the brow of a hill and the landscape sloped downward beyond the summit. I slowed the vehicle to a crawl as the dark swell of the sea came into view below us. The port town stood between us and the sea. Dark shapes and silhouetted low standing buildings sprouted from the shadows along the shoreline.
“This is it,” Tony said. “We’re here. This is
La Bahia Soleado,
The
Sunny Bay
.”
What worried me were the numerous shuffling figures lurching around in the shadows amongst the buildings.
Chapter Fifty-Five
“Fuck, there’s a shit load of fucking zombies down there, man,” Dan groaned, pointing through the windshield at the town beyond.
“No shit,” Smith muttered.
“What do we do?” I asked, turning off the truck’s engine. I switched the lights to the park position so they were only on a dim setting.
We sat there in silence for a few minutes, watching the light slowly increase as the sun started to rise and cast a red glow across the sea beyond the town.
“We wait for the sun to fully rise,” Smith finally said. “Going down there in darkness would be suicide.”
“From what I can see, going down there
at all
is fucking suicide, Smudger,” Tony snapped.
“We can use the waiting time to plan our route,” Smith said calmly. He handed out the last of his cigarettes in the pack.
We sat smoking, watching the town brighten with each passing minute. The whitewashed buildings around the harbor only stood at a maximum height of two levels and most consisted of just the one storey. The roofs were constructed of rusting corrugated iron or green tiles with plants sprouting from cracks and gaps in their surfaces. The undead slowly shuffled between the buildings along narrow streets, paved courtyards, alleyways and backyards. Their sunburned and parched heads bobbled as they moved in a drunken like shamble around the main hub of the town. A cluster of taller buildings sat in a square to the right of the town. A stone fountain was surrounded by a patch of dry waste ground that sat in the center of the square, bordered by rows of shuttered up stores and bars.
The harbor sat to the left of the bay and consisted of four wooden jetties jutting around a central pier that spread out onto the sea. A large number of boats bobbed around next to the jetties, with a few vessels fully or slightly submerged under the surface. Small shack like bars and seafood diners stood around the edge of the harbor and most were either boarded up at the front or broken and wrecked. It looked as though the harbor area was built in a mock 1800’s maritime and nostalgic Caribbean style. Now it simply looked what it was, a rundown shanty town.
I watched the shallow waves lap against the golden sandy beach for a while. The sea breeze fluttered through ruined beach chairs and torn up sun loungers all tipped over and lying on their sides.
“I’ll bet this town was a little piece of heaven back in the day,” I muttered.
“Yeah, it was a total blast, dude,” Dan said. “You could get anything you wanted. From a two bit hooker to an ounce of cocaine. It was all here, man.”
I scowled at Dan’s perception of a good time. “That’s not quite what I meant, Dan,” I said.
“Whatever, man.” Dan shrugged. “It’s never going to be the same here ever again so why even think about it?”
“You never know your luck, kid,” Smith grunted.
I sat up and looked around the cab. We were all slumped in the bench seat and our eyes were baggy and half closed. If we stayed as we were much longer we’d all be asleep. We had to get our shit together or we’d never find a boat.
“So, are we going to try and get to the harbor or what, Smith?” I asked with renewed vigor. “We need to do something.”
“Yeah, I know,” Smith sighed. “I was just enjoying sitting here awhile, you know, watching the world go by.”
“Have you been smoking weed, Smith?” I asked.
“Not lately.”
“You seem kind of laid back.”
“Nah, just having a little R and R is all. All right, Wild Man. Come on, let’s go ape shit crazy downtown.” Smith sat upright in the seat and rubbed his face.
“You want to drive down there?” I asked.
Smith shook his head. “Nah, that big old diesel engine makes too much noise. We’d have zombies crawling up our asses before we even got near the jetty. We’ll have to be quiet and use a little stealth to get near those boats in the harbor.” He pointed across the town to the central pier. “If we can make it to the edge of town on foot, we can get up on those rooftops and make our way across the streets to the jetty. If we’re quiet enough, we can get to the boats along the quayside before the zombies know we’re there.” He pointed to the line of boats and turned to face Tony. “Which of those is that glass bottomed motherfucker? Can you see it?”
Tony rocked his head from side to side, studying the jetties. “I can’t be sure but I think I can see one halfway down on the second jetty to the left of the pier.” He pointed to a partially obscured, elongated vessel with glass paneled sides, which sat low in the water behind a huddle of dilapidated fishing boats.
Smith nodded. “Okay, we’ll head for that one. If we get into trouble, find a boat and cut yourself loose from the harbor and we’ll re-evaluate if things go to shit. Got it?”
We all nodded.
“If we get into trouble before we even make it to the harbor, we’ll try and get right back here to the truck. No firing of weapons unless we seriously have to and no talking, coughing or farting when we’re crossing over those rooftops, understand?”
“Yeah, got it, man,” Dan said.
Tony and I nodded.
“Okay, collect up your weapons and don’t forget to check them and reload before we head into the town,” Smith instructed. He picked up his assault rifle and opened the passenger door.
The three of us gathered our respective firearms and followed Smith out of the truck’s cab. We stood in front of the vehicle’s big fender, Smith and I checked and reloaded our weapons. Smith helped Tony and Dan with their firearms and ran through a few do’s and don’ts with them again just so they were clear on the working of the mechanisms and safety issues.
I kept watch on the town at the end of the track at the bottom of the hill while the others were practicing their weapon drills. The undead didn’t seem interested in anything beyond the town’s limits and simply continued to shuffle around the streets and buildings in an aimless trance. Most of the zombies looked as though they were of African Caribbean descent and had probably worked and lived in and around the port town. Such a shame I thought. Their beautiful island that they’d worked so hard to build up into an exclusive vacation destination had been brought to its knees by this terrible virus. Maybe just one infected person had landed here on a ship or an aircraft and turned the whole island into a ticking time bomb of death.
“Hey, Wilde Man, are you still with us or have you turned into a zombie?” Smith’s words pulled me away from my musings.
“Huh?” I mumbled.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Sure. A bit on the tired side but otherwise I’m on it.”
“You can sleep when we’re on that boat and out to sea sailing around the island,” Smith said. “But we have to get there first. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes to get there if we play it right.”
“Let’s make sure we get it right then, Smudger,” Tony said, with some surprisingly renewed enthusiasm.
“Okay, everybody,” Smith said. “If we’re all good, let’s go. Good luck, guys and remember the rules.”
We all murmured a response and followed Smith as we crept towards the outskirts of the port town.
That familiar churning in my stomach came back as we drew nearer. I could smell the rotting stench of the numerous undead and could hear their dreadful collective moans, like the sound of a swarm of angry wasps.
I felt extremely fatigued and wished I could simply fast forward the next twenty minutes in time until we were safely on that boat and sailing out of the harbor. Unfortunately, life wasn’t like an old video recorder and I was dreading our latest impending scheme.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The first dwelling we came to was nothing more than a corrugated iron shed at the rear of a small house on the outskirts of town. The hill sloped to the rear of the shed and the roof was only a few feet above the incline. The soil must have been dug away at the front of the building to allow for space in the interior. Although, how the buildings were constructed and their general purpose was no concern of mine. All I cared about was getting to that harbor.
Smith put his finger to his lips to signal to keep silent and clambered up onto the shed’s metal roof. He stood for a few seconds then waved us up to join him. I winced as the corrugated iron clattered underfoot while we climbed up. We turned to the town to gauge the scene below us. A slight dust cloud hovered at shoulder height around the main hub and circling the stone fountain in the center of town. I watched the crowd of zombies plodding through the town center for a few moments, kicking up the dust from the path on the dried up ground. I wondered if maybe it was a place they liked to go and sit or spend time in their former lives.
“Okay, if we move from roof to roof we have a good chance of making it,” Smith said in a hushed voice. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances and don’t go taking any giant leaps that cause a lot of noise.”
We nodded in agreement and Smith led the way across the shed roof. A gap of around six feet separated the shed from the main house and we hopped up onto the orange, clay tiled roof. We silently maneuvered from roof to roof, moving closer to the harbor with every jump. Clusters of undead roamed in the alleyways, paths and yards between the buildings but they didn’t seem to notice us moving across the rooftops above them. We were forced to deviate slightly and take a curving route around the town as some of the buildings were separated by the wider central street, splitting the dwellings from the stores and bars.
The strange combination of decaying flesh from the undead and the saltiness of the sea wafted on the breeze as we trod across the town center. Every step we took was carefully coordinated and as soundless as possible. We were all on high alert, even though we were tired as hell.
The sun’s heat intensified as dawn receded to full blown daytime during our rooftop crossing. We stood on a red tiled roof around twenty yards from the edge of the harbor below us when I heard a
crack
and then a
zip
echo around the buildings. The sounds seemed to stir the zombies from their docile state. They became increasingly agitated and more aggressive in their actions, clawing the air and quickening their pace.
“Get down everybody,” Smith hissed.
Smith, Tony and I immediately went to ground in a crouching position but Dan stayed upright, with a confused expression across his face. I was about to tell him to hunker down when the
crack-zip
sound came again.
Dan’s whole body jolted in one jerky movement and his head rocked sideways, with a large proportion of his skull exploding outwards amongst a spray of blood and brain matter. Dan’s body clattered onto the tiles with blood and gore showering the surrounding area.
“Shit!” I barked, too loudly for our predicament.
Tony coughed loudly, retched and then vomited between his feet.
“It’s that fucking sniper again,” Smith growled, scanning the town to our right.
I didn’t notice at first but the slight sloping pitch in the roof caused Dan’s corpse to roll down the tiles towards the street below. Smith’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open.
“Stop him from going over the side,” he whispered.
I reached out to grab Dan’s flailing arm but Tony was in my way and unmoving, still crouching on all fours staring at the tiles and convulsing wildly. I touched Dan’s forearm but couldn’t make enough contact to get a firm grip. My hand slid down to his wrist and I couldn’t hold onto him without knocking Tony out of the way and sending him tumbling after his dead friend.
“Get him, Wilde Man,” Smith repeated with increased urgency.
Dan left a smear of blood and brains spreading across the tiles, as what remained of his head clattered down the roof. I scrabbled at his clothing but still couldn’t get a firm hold to stop the body moving.
“Shit!” I hissed.
Dan’s corpse bumped onto the loose guttering at the edge of the roof and dislodged the fixings holding the drainage system to the wall. The guttering and the drainpipe collapsed and Dan’s body toppled from the roof. The old lead guttering and drainpipe noisily smashed into pieces as it hit the ground. Dan’s body landed amongst the debris with a sickening splat.
The undead crowd below turned, alerted at the loud crashing sounds echoing around the street. They were immediately attracted to the bloodied corpse and swarmed around it like a pack of hungry hounds. The undead roared and growled and tore into the flesh with their fingers and teeth.
“Oh, my god,” Tony wailed and threw up a string of stomach bile.
“I told you to grab him, Wilde Man,” Smith seethed through clenched teeth.
I shook my head and hunched my shoulders. “Smith, you saw for yourself, I couldn’t get hold of him.”
Another
crack-zip
sound rang out and a few orange sparks kicked up from the roof tiles, ten yards to our right.
“Fuck!” Smith spat. “We sure as shit can’t stay put here. A couple more shots like that and we’re going to end up like poor old Dan down there.” He nodded towards the street below. “That sniper is zeroing in on us. We have to move.”