Voodoo Plague - 01 (15 page)

Targets in place
I retreated to the trees and paused to check them out.  Each container was
fluorescent orange and nearly glowed in the weak moonlight.  I had placed them
one on top of another, making a short tower, trying to give myself a larger
target.  I also hoped the impact from one target detonating would cause a
sympathetic detonation in the other two for a really spectacular BOOM, but I
had no idea if that would work.

Over an hour
later I was back on the rise where I had started, staring down the road. 
Clouds were scudding across the moon and there was almost no light and I
couldn’t spot the targets.  The sky looked like it would clear off soon, so I
sat back, drank some water, waited and watched.

Sometime later a
raccoon ambled out of the trees a few yards away.  He stopped, looked at me,
stood on his hind legs to sniff the air then quickly vanished back into the
forest.  I’m sure he could smell the infected, but didn’t know if the smell of
them or my infected blood soaked shirt was what had sent him scurrying off.  I
didn’t waste too much time thinking about it as the clouds finally moved on and
the moon came back out with what seemed like more intensity than before.

I had already
prepped the rifle with the Pepsi bottle, and had the Mountain Dew and Arrowhead
bottles sitting there ready to go.  The Pepsi bottle was held in place with a
couple of wraps of duct tape, yes it’s indispensable even in the apocalypse,
and I had already wrapped a length of tape around the mouths of the two spare
bottles to get them ready to be used.

Rolling onto my
belly I laid the rifle over the top of the rise and scanned with its low power
combat scope for the targets.  I was getting concerned when I couldn’t find
them, but then spotted the bright orange plastic.  I took a deep breath and
slowly let it out through my nose.  This would be one hell of a shot.  300
yards on a target less than eleven inches tall and five inches wide.  Easy shot
with a rifle set up with a bi-pod and high power scope, but I didn’t have
either.  I was relying on years of shooting that started with targeting coyotes
in the West Texas desert when I was only twelve years old.

I spared a
glance at the truck, but there was nothing new there.  Same swarm of infected
paying attention only to the meal inside the cab that they couldn’t get to. 
Looking around I checked the area behind me and found it clear of threats. 
Back to the rifle I pulled the stock in tight to my shoulder, pressed my cheek
into place and acquired the target.  I held high, knowing that the 5.56 mm
round would drop about an inch of vertical distance for every hundred yards of
horizontal distance traveled.  At 300 yards that made for a 3 inch drop, so I
aimed at the top target.  It was a calm night with no wind, so I had no excuses
to not get a hit.

Another deep
breath, exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger as my exhale stopped.  The rifle
made a strange popping noise that sounded like a combination of a bongo drum
and snare drum, but not much louder than if I had clapped my hands together. 
The bottom and most of the sides of the Pepsi bottle blew out.  The targets
didn’t detonate.  Shit.

A quick check of
the infected around the truck and I saw a couple of females that seemed to be
looking around, but the Hillbilly Silencer seemed to have done the trick.  The
problem was I had no idea where my bullet went.  Don’t know if I was high, low,
left or right. 

As quietly as I
could I stripped the Pepsi bottle off and replaced it with the Mountain Dew
bottle and smoothed down the tape to hold it in place.  I re-sighted on the
target, held slightly higher this time and aimed a couple of degrees off to the
left.  Again, deep breath, exhale, fire.

No hit, and this
time the bottle didn’t work as well.  Thinner plastic?  Who knows?  I checked
the infected at the truck and there were now several females standing away from
the pack looking in my general direction.  They obviously weren’t sure I was
there or they would already be charging, but I was on borrowed time.

Third bottle on
the rifle, aim high and right, deep breath, exhale, fire.  Nothing.  I ripped
the bottle off the end of the rifle as I watched half a dozen females start
moving in my direction.  Not running yet, but moving too fast for my comfort.

Fuck it.  I
stripped off my shirt and wound it tightly around the muzzle of the rifle.  It
wouldn’t work as well as the bottles, but the fabric would suppress the muzzle
flash and knock down a good amount of the report.  Aim center mass on the
target, adjust up a couple of degrees, deep breath, exhale and fire.

BOOM!

The detonation
was far louder than I expected.  I felt the concussion in my chest and a huge
cloud of white smoke marked where the targets had been.  I ripped my attention
away from the smoke to check on the infected.  It looked like the diversion was
working.  The pack had abandoned the truck and was moving towards the smoke
cloud.  All but two females, that is, who were still moving towards me.  They
must have either seen my movement as I fired or heard enough of the rifle
report to keep their attention.

The pack had
cleared the truck by a good ten yards when I yanked the singed shirt off the
end of the rifle barrel, slung the rifle, grabbed my pack and headed to get
Dog.  The two females spotted me as soon as I stood up and broke into a run
directly at me.  I kept the rifle slung, afraid to use it and alert the rest of
the pack to my location.  Instead I drew the Ka-Bar and moved to meet them.

One of the
females looked to have been in her late teens to early twenties and was in good
shape.  She was completely nude as she ran towards me and even in the heat of
battle my mind wondered what she had been doing at the moment she got
infected.  The other was older, probably in her forties and grossly out of
shape.  She was still coming fast, but the younger one quickly outpaced her.

I met her about
half way to the truck, her at a flat out run, me slowing to a trot so I could
move laterally.  She leapt at me and I spun out of her grasp, completing the
spin and jamming the knife into her lower back, directly into a kidney.  Now, a
normal human with an eight inch knife wound to the kidney would go down and
stay down, but she wasn’t normal.  She twisted around and almost pulled the
knife from my grasp.

I spared a
glance at the fat one who was still twenty yards away but closing fast.  I
needed to end this quickly before I had two of them on me and we drew the
attention of the rest of the pack.  Stepping inside the younger infected’s
reach I slammed the hilt of the knife into her forehead with enough force to
snap her head back and knock her to the ground.  Using my own momentum I
followed her down, right knee landing on her chest.  I both heard and felt her
breast bone and ribs snap when I came down with my 230 pounds.  Reversing the
knife in my grip I stabbed into her eye and sank the blade to the hilt.  Just
like earlier all animation left her body instantly.

Jumping back to
my feet I turned as the older female arrived with a snarl.  I sidestepped and
swept her legs so that she fell face first to the pavement.  I was on her back in
a second and drove the knife into the soft spot at the base of the skull. 
Another instant kill.  Damn, but I was finally getting benefit from all the
training Uncle Sam had put me through.  I shook my head at myself, wondering
why thoughts like that went through my mind in the heat of combat. 

I cleaned the
blade on the back of her shirt and checked on the pack.  Several figures, most
likely female, were already at the cloud of smoke that was still hanging in the
air, the bulk of the pack still moving in that direction.  They seemed to be
completely focused on the diversion and the truck was clear for the moment.

Running, I
covered the last fifty yards as fast as I could, bending over to make sure
there weren’t any surprises under the truck before I stepped up to the door. 
Grabbing the driver side door handle I yanked the door open and immediately
heard a loud growl from deep within the darkness inside the cab.

“Dog,” I mumbled
in a low voice.  “It’s ok.  Let’s go.”

Before I got the
last words out my mouth he was standing on the driver’s seat, tail wagging so
hard that his whole body quivered.  I couldn’t help but take the time to rub
his head with both hands, surprised at the sense of relief I felt that he was
OK.  Stepping back I checked on the pack’s status and Dog jumped to the ground
and quickly trotted to the back of the truck where he lifted his leg and peed
on the rear tire.  Immediate need taken care of he trotted back to me and
pressed his head against my hip. 

The pack was
still distracted and moving away.  I headed directly for the tree line, Dog at
my side.  We made it out of the open and into the shelter of the forest without
being spotted.  I relaxed half a notch, thinking we were clear of the imminent
danger and could quietly make our way to the lake.  That mistake almost cost me
my life, and very likely would have if not for Dog.

He let out a low
growl just as a female screamed and leapt at me from no more than five feet
away.  Dog leapt and met her in the air, knocking her down and fell on her and
started tearing at her throat.  I was immobilized for half a second then
stepped forward and rammed the knife home in the infected’s ear.  Dog stopped
attacking as soon as the corpse went limp.

Screams from the
direction the pack had gone told me that we had been heard.  Time to go.  I set
off deeper into the woods at an oblique angle from the road, making more noise
than I cared to, but speed mattered right now.  After what I estimated to be
fifty yards I changed direction, ran another thirty and stopped.  Behind us
were screams and the sounds of bodies crashing through the underbrush, but it
all sounded like it was moving parallel to us, not toward us.

I looked down at
Dog whose ears were at full alert.  He stared in the direction of the screams and
noise, but he wasn’t acting like we were about to be attacked.  Maybe we’d
managed to elude them in the woods.  Quietly we started moving towards the lake
again.  Behind us there weren’t sounds of pursuit and the screams slowly died
out.  I only hoped that meant the infected were not on our trail, not that
they’d found us and were sneaking through the woods to attack.

I didn’t have
any idea if the infected were capable of a level of reasoning that included
knowing to stealthily track prey before attacking.  For that matter, was it
even reasoning or was it instinct?  Again I caught myself over analyzing
things.  I didn’t care why they might do something, I just cared if they could
or couldn’t do something.

We kept moving,
slow and quiet.  There was an occasional scream in the woods behind us, but
nothing that sounded like pursuit.  Slowly we pushed our way through the woods,
not encountering any infected.  Dog stayed two paces in front of me, ears at
full mast and tail tucked tightly along his back legs.  Every few seconds he
would glance back to make sure I was still close to him then would go back to
scanning the dark forest in front of us.

More than an
hour later we stopped at the edge of the neatly mown lawn I had crossed earlier
in the evening.  There weren’t any infected visible in the open area and we
hadn’t heard any noise from the infected behind us in over half an hour. 
Glancing down at Dog I noted that he was alert but not on guard so took that as
a sign that I wasn’t missing anything.  We crept out of the woods and picked up
the pace as we crossed the open lawn, heading for the back of the house and the
slope down to the lake. 

There weren’t
any clouds left in the sky and the moon gave us plenty of light to make our way
without worrying about tripping over anything or running into an infected that
was just standing there waiting.  We paused by the body of the infected I’d
killed when passing this way earlier, Dog giving the body a perfunctory sniff
before turning away from it.  Checking around the corner of the house I was
pleased to see the path to the boat house was open and clear.  Dog and I dashed
down the slope, my eyes raised to the lake.  As we neared the dock I slowed,
then skidded to a stop, staring out at the water.  The boat I had left Rachel
on a few hours ago was gone.

I didn’t have
time to stand there and worry about why Rachel had moved the boat.  Behind me
there was a chorus of screams that could only mean a small pack of females had
spotted us.  Glancing back as I pounded down the wooden dock I saw five females
coming down the lawn at a full sprint.  Crashing through the boat house door
with Dog on my heels I grabbed the key for the speedboat that was hanging from a
peg, a smiling yellow rubber ducky on the key chain that would float if the key
was dropped in the water.

I barely broke
stride as I grabbed the key and leapt into the boat, Dog hesitating for a
moment before leaping in and taking up station between the two bucket seats. 
It was dark in the boat house and I couldn’t see the ignition.  Wasting
precious time I dug a flashlight out of my pocket and clicked it on. 
Fortunately I was now able to see the ignition, but I had just destroyed my
night vision.

Inserting and
twisting the key the two giant Mercury motors on the back of the boat rumbled
to life, masking the screams of the approaching females.  I scrambled to throw
off the lines that tied the boat in place and dropped into the driver’s seat,
hand already on the throttles.  I looked up and cursed.  The boat house had a
pair of wooden doors that swung open in the middle to allow access for the
boat, and they were closed.  The doors looked to be rather sturdy and I didn’t
like the odds of crashing through them with the boat.

Dog growled as
the sound of running feet on the dock reached his ears a moment before it did
mine.  Pulling my pistol I sighted on the latch mounted in the center of the
doors, my target lit by the flashlight in my left hand that was doing double
duty as a brace for my shooting hand.  The doors were only twenty five or
thirty feet away, an easy shot, and I put six rounds into the brass latching
mechanism.  A .45 hollow point round is a big heavy bullet that will transfer a
lot of energy when it strikes a target and the rounds I fired did as I
expected.  The latch shattered then blew completely free of the surrounding
wood and one of the doors started to slowly swing open.

The time it took
me to shoot out the latch gave the females the time they needed to reach the
boathouse and as I shifted my aim point to the walk door the first one burst
through with a nerve shattering scream.  I had her spotted with the small
flashlight and didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.  Her face distorted for a fraction
of a second then the whole back of her head blew out and covered the female
behind her with blood and brains.

The second
female jumped over her and I fired twice.  One round in the center of her chest
slowed her and a follow up shot to the head put her down.  Now there were two
bodies piled in the open door and the next female had to slow to climb over
them.  She made an easy target and quickly joined her sisters.  The fourth died
as soon as she showed her head and with the doorway momentarily clear I shoved
both throttles to their stops and the engines bellowed with power. 

The stern of the
boat dropped into the water as the props instantly spun up to full speed and
the boat nearly leapt forward.  The bow crashed into the access doors, slamming
them open.  There was a shudder as the boat seemed to shake off the impact then
I could feel the acceleration kick in.  We shot out of the boat house pointed
at the center of the lake, gaining speed at an incredible pace until I slapped
the throttles back to idle.  We were far enough from shore already to be
relatively safe and I didn’t want to go charging around the lake at top speed
in the dark.

Behind, the
surviving female stood on the dock and screamed at us.  Even over the idling
engines I could hear the answering screams from deeper in the woods. 

“Well, we’re not
going back that way.”  I said to Dog and ruffled his ears.  He leaned sideways
and pressed his head into me.  Fortunately he was a dog and didn’t understand
that I’d forgotten him in the truck when we had to abandon it.  He was just
happy to see me.  After a few moments of making sure I knew he still liked me
he walked to the stern of the boat, leaned way out and started drinking from
the lake.  He drank for a long time before coming back and lying down next to
me between the bucket seats for the driver and passenger.

The boat had
powered a couple of hundred yards from the shore and then drifted another fifty
or so before bobbing to a stop.  The surface of the lake quickly smoothed back
out and within a couple of minutes it was as smooth as glass and amplifying the
reflected moonlight.  The dash was backlit with a dim red light but it still
took me a bit of looking to find the fuel gauge.  It read just over half full. 
I hoped it read accurately.  I also suspected that the two monster engines had
a hell of a thirst and no matter how many gallons that half a tank represented
it would go fast if I was heavy on the throttle.

I dug through
the lockers on the boat that were built into the seating and finally came up
with a pair of marine binoculars.  They were extraordinarily light, their
housing air filled so they would float if dropped overboard.  Holding them to
my eyes I scanned a slow 360 degree circle, hoping to spot the cabin cruiser,
but it was nowhere to be seen.  The dock where we had stolen it from still
teemed with infected, and the dock that Dog and I had just departed was quickly
filling up as more infected arrived, drawn by the sounds of our escape.

I didn’t think
Rachel would intentionally leave without me.  She had no reason to.  She was
smart and practical and realized that we stood a better chance together than
apart.  I had returned well before the deadline I’d given her as a time to give
up on me.  There was no indication that the infected had any way to threaten
her while she was sitting on a boat in the middle of the lake.  That left one
viable option.  Other people had somehow boarded the boat and taken it and
Rachel.

“Fuck me.” I
muttered under my breath.  First I leave Dog behind in a panic, now Rachel had
been taken.  I wasn’t exactly lighting up the scoreboard with successes today. 

Searching the
boat again I hoped to find a map or chart of the lake, but no such luck.  If
Rachel had been taken, which I didn’t see any other possibility, then they were
probably still somewhere on the lake.  If they had just wanted Rachel, the boat
would still be floating at anchor right where I left it.  Time for a search.

First things
first.  I was covered in blood from the infected I had killed, drenched in
sweat and smeared with mud and plant stains from my trek to rescue Dog. 
Removing my boots, socks and all my weapons I slipped over the side of the boat
into the cool lake water and spent a few minutes rubbing myself as clean as I
could.  Feeling refreshed I climbed back into the boat and pulled socks and
boots back on.  I was shirtless and the mosquitoes had found me out on the
water and were having quite the feast at my expense.  There was nothing I could
do except suck it up.

Closing my eyes
I tried to picture the map of the lake I had looked at with Rachel earlier in
the day.  I remembered the lake was massive, going on for miles and miles as it
filled in the low ground in the rolling Georgia countryside.  Multiple little
arms sprouted off from the main body of the lake and I was going to have to
search each one of them.  Edging the throttles forward I spun the wheel and
pointed the boat in a southwesterly direction to start my search.