Voodoo Plague - 01 (13 page)

I shot the three
closest females, leapt to my feet and started running.  The pavement sloped
more steeply here, ending at a chain link gate that stood open allowing access
to a wooden dock.  The dock was over two hundred yards long with additional
wooden docks spaced periodically at right angles to create spots for what must
have been 300 boats of all sizes. 

I skidded as I
approached the gate, grabbing the chain link and slamming the gate shut behind
me.  The gate swung out towards the pavement, so less than two seconds later
when the first female slammed against the gate it rattled but held.  She
screamed at me and tried to force her arms through the chain link to reach me. 
Quickly more females started crashing against the gate and fence, their
combined screams deafening.

I trotted down
the main dock towards the boat Rachel had boarded.  The boat was in the first
slip closest to the main dock and would have to be backed out of the slip and
motored down the side channel for a good distance before reaching the open
lake.  A sharp 90 degree turn at the end of the dock meant we’d have to take it
slow and be close to the dock and other boats when we made the turn.

Rachel was
visible on the flying bridge of the boat which sat well above all of the
surrounding boats.  She’d found us a large cabin cruiser and I could hear the
low, throaty rumble of the engine as I pounded down the dock.

Rachel was
yelling but I couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell me.  She resorted
to pointing and I looked over my shoulder to see one of the females finish
scaling the fence and drop to the dock.  Soon the others were following and I
picked up my speed.

They were only
forty yards or so behind me as I reached the boat and there was no way I could
get it untied, board and sail to safety without all of them swarming aboard.  I
raced to the bow line, releasing it from the heavy cleat bolted to the dock,
then rushed to release the stern line.

“I’ll hold
them.  Pick me up at the end of the dock,” I yelled at Rachel.

I didn’t wait to
see what she was doing.  Dropping back onto my knee in the center of the dock I
raised the rifle and acquired my first target.  In the half second between
acquisition and firing I saw what had probably been a pretty suburban soccer
mom with long blonde hair.  A fraction of a second later my bullet shattered
her skull and her body tumbled to the dock.

The dock was a
better place tactically than the open road.  Here the infected were funneled
onto a surface no more than six feet wide which made acquiring targets much
more efficient.  Acquire – Fire – Acquire – Fire.  I burned through thirty
rounds and now the flood of infected was hampered by the growing pile of
bodies.  They had to slow to climb the pile and when they did they made
themselves an easier target.

Females were
still arriving and climbing the fence, but I was keeping them a steady twenty
yards away.  Unfortunately I didn’t have unlimited ammunition.  Swapping mags I
risked a glance over my shoulder and saw that Rachel had cleared the end of the
side dock and was slowly approaching the end of the main dock.  Firing four
more shots that brought down four infected I stood up and ran for the end of
the dock.

The screams
behind me rose in volume, perhaps in frustration at their escaping prey.  I ran
hard, probably harder than I have ever run in my life.  I could see the big
boat negotiate the final turn then surge forward towards the main dock.  I ran
past the final side dock and now only blue lake water surrounded the wooden
planks I ran on.  I was less than 10 feet from the end of the dock when a
scream sounded right behind me and a body crashed into me knocking both of us
flat on the dock before we skidded over the edge and into the water.

The infected
clung to my pack as we sank, the hundred plus pounds of gear I wore dragging us
down.  After what seemed an eternity my toes and then my knees settled onto the
muddy bottom of the lake.  I was thrashing, trying to break the grip the
infected had on me, but she clung tight.

Gathering my
legs I pushed against the lake bottom and arched backwards hoping to crush her
into the mud and break free.  Instead of flipping over backwards we smashed
into something solid that loosened her grip slightly.  It took me a moment, but
when I realized it was one of the giant wooden pilings that supported the dock
I used all the strength in my legs to keep ramming us backwards into the
piling.

My lungs were on
fire and felt ready to burst when she finally released me.  I thrashed away
from her and pushed for the surface, needing air more than I was worried about
her. 

Swimming with
heavy packs and weapons strapped to your body may sound impossible, but not
only can it be done but the military trains all of its Special Forces operators
how to do it.  However, having been trained years ago and executing on that
training now were two different things.  I didn’t think I would make it and was
preparing to dump my pack when my face broke the surface and I was able to draw
a deep breath.

I had surfaced
under the dock and quickly grabbed on to a brace so I could keep my head above
water.  The infected that had gone into the water with me bobbed to the surface
a moment later, face down and not moving.  I didn’t believe my smashing her
into the piling had killed her, rather believed that she had drowned.

 Right above my
head were dozens of infected females milling around on the dock.  The
occasional scream pierced the air, but it didn’t seem like they had spotted
me.  The rumble of the boat motor grew as Rachel approached the end of the
dock, but she veered away as one of the females launched herself at the boat. 
The infected came up short and hit the water with a splash.  She thrashed
violently for almost a minute before going still and bobbing on the surface.

They couldn’t
swim!  And I realized that they didn’t recognize the danger of the water as
more of them leaped off the end of the dock in an attempt to reach Rachel who
now had the boat sitting 30 feet out in the lake.  I waved from my hiding place
but she couldn’t see me.

Taking a few
deep breaths I went under the water and started swimming out.  The boat wasn’t
far, but you don’t move fast with a ton of gear on your body and I was forced
to surface for air about halfway.  A chorus of screams greeted me and was
almost instantly followed by splashes all around as they tried to catch me. 

Rachel spotted
me now and I saw her disappear off the flying bridge and a moment later appear
at the stern of the boat, rope in hand.  I struggled towards the boat, fending
off a female that landed close enough to get a fingertip grip on my pack.  I
had to hit her twice and the loss of concentration caused me to sink.  I fought
my way back to the surface and struggled towards the boat as more splashes
sounded behind me.

Already tired
from the run to the lake I was weakening when a rope smacked onto the surface
of the water a couple of feet in front of me.  With renewed energy I swam to
it, grabbed on and started pulling hand over hand towards the boat.  Minutes
later I was holding on to a small platform with a ladder that was bolted to the
boat’s stern to allow easy access for swimmers. 

Resting for a
few minutes I looked up into Rachel’s smiling face and grinned like a stupid
teenager, happy to be alive.  Holding tight to the ladder I got my feet under
me and with what felt like Herculean effort slowly climbed out of the water and
into the boat.  Rachel greeted me with a hug then helped me out of my gear
before I dropped to the deck, exhausted.

“I thought I’d
lost you.”

“Thought I’d
lost me too there for a bit,” I answered, wiping water out of my eyes.  “Thanks
for the rope.  Not sure I would have made it without it.”

Rachel held my
hand for a moment then turned her attention to the dock.  The infected had
stopped leaping into the water and now stood staring at us and screaming in frustration. 
A dozen bodies floated between us and the dock.

“Did they figure
out they can’t swim, or did they just give up?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know. 
Maybe there’s still enough working brain in there for them to understand they
can’t survive in the water after seeing their companions die.  Thank God they
can’t swim or I’d have been toast.” 

A thought hit me
as I stood back up, “Did you clear the boat?”

The look on
Rachel’s face answered my question before she could speak.

“Stay here, gun
in hand.  I’ll be back,” I said, drawing my pistol and checking the magazine to
make sure it was fully loaded.

The boat was
bigger than I had expected.  I estimated it was fifty feet long and it was a
luxury cruiser with three staterooms, four heads, a galley, a large seating
area called a salon and multiple other compartments that were a mix of storage
space and various nautical uses that I couldn’t identify.  Checking everything
thoroughly took 20 minutes.  Fortunately we were alone.

I made my way up
to the flying bridge and motioned Rachel to join me.  “Do you know anything
about boats?”  I asked her when she arrived.

“Some.  I used
to date a guy that had one and we would go out almost every weekend in the
summer.  He always handled the boat, but I paid attention.  What about you?”

“I know the
pointy end is the front and they’re surrounded by water,” I answered with a
grin.  “So I guess that makes you the captain, especially since you got it out
of dock without sinking it.”

“Guess you
didn’t notice the scrapes along the side,” Rachel smiled and stepped up to the
controls.  Moments later the engine revved and she spun the wheel to set us on
a course for the middle of the lake.

“Can we get out
to the middle and drop anchor and stay there for a while?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t be a
problem,” Rachel reached forward and fiddled with a couple of electronic
displays.  “Looks like we’ve got about 70 feet of water under us right now.”

We were maybe
half a mile from the dock with shoreline on each side about a quarter of a mile
away.  In front of us the lake looked to continue for miles, and from what I
remembered of how it looked on the map there was a myriad of small coves as the
main lake twisted and turned. 

Rachel cut the
engine after using reverse to bring us to a stop in the water then flipped a
switch on the console that was protected by a plastic cover to prevent
accidental activation.  I jumped as a loud rattling sound and splash came from
the front of the boat, relaxing when Rachel laughed at me, “It’s the anchor. 
Nothing you need to shoot.”

I gave her a
look that she ignored in favor of watching the heavy rope that was spooling out
of a recessed compartment on the deck at the very front of the boat.  When it
stopped unwinding she lifted the plastic cover and set the switch into the
middle position.

“Anchors down
and locked.  We’ll pivot around it at the end of the line if there’s any wind
or current in the lake, but we’ll stay put in this area,” She said.

Looking around
the flying bridge I found the pair of binoculars I expected to be there. 
Raising them to my eyes I focused on the dock we had escaped from.  It was
swarming with infected for its entire length and the paved area was packed with
swaying bodies. 

“It looks like
that entire herd followed us,” I said, still scanning the distant shore.

“We have to be
more careful,” Rachel said.  “If we hadn’t been close to the marina we wouldn’t
have escaped.

“Agreed.  We got
very lucky.  We’ve been very lucky up to now.  I just didn’t expect to run into
another herd.  Why the hell are they doing that?  Where are they going?”  My
questions were really more rhetorical, but Rachel felt the need to talk about
it.

“I don’t know. 
Maybe something in the way their brains are affected has caused the herding
instinct to become dominant.  Humans are by nature tribal animals, not herd, so
it doesn’t make a lot of sense,” she answered.  “I’m also surprised that we’re
not finding uninfected people.  This has spread so fast it’s almost beyond
belief.  Especially when you try to explain why neither of us have been
infected.  Are we immune, or just very lucky?”

I lowered the
binoculars and looked at her.  “Good questions, but we don’t know enough to
even start guessing.”

Making a final
scan of the two closest shorelines I put the binoculars back in their spot. 
“I’m going to take these wet clothes off and get my gear dried out.  Do you
mind checking the galley to see if there’s any food and water on board?”

“Will do, and
I’ll bet a boat like this has a washer and dryer on it.  I’ll see if I can find
them and we’ll get your clothes drying.”

I moved down to
the deck where my pack was lying in a spreading puddle of water that was
seeping out of it.  Moving the pack to the edge of the deck so it would drain
overboard into the lake I sat on a thickly padded bench and pulled my
waterlogged boots off.  Opening them up to the sun I pulled off my vest and
harness, then stripped down to my underwear.  The hot Georgia sun felt good on
my skin as I worked to unpack and spread everything out. 

“Found it,”
Rachel announced as she walked out onto deck.  She gathered up the clothes I
had taken off as well as the wet clothes from my pack and headed back inside. 

I spent almost
an hour stripping, cleaning and oiling weapons.  Loaded magazines were emptied,
dried, lightly oiled and reloaded.  Fortunately modern ammo can easily survive
a casual dunking in water and I wasn’t particularly worried that any of it
would fail to fire when needed.  The sun was setting as I was loading the last
magazine and Rachel slid open the glass door that accessed the salon and called
out that dinner was ready.