Dawn of the Apocalypse: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (18 page)

            That was my worry, too.  I had no idea what percentage of the population was infected.  What was the zombie to people ratio?

            "Why are they all heading south?" Mike asked.  "It's all so weird."

            It was tough not having news updates at my fingertips.  We went from instant information to no information.  The last bit of news we received was that Canada was zombie free.  Of course, most of the survivors we encountered were trying to kill and rob us, so an exchange of information was a bit difficult.

            "I'm getting tired of boats and the river," I said.  "We covered so much more ground in the pickup.  I want to get another as soon as possible."

            "They are kind of hard to find on the river," Charlie said.

            "Well, you'll get your wish soon enough, Roger," Mike said.  "Tennessee can't be more than a couple hundred miles from St Louis.  I don't know how fast we’re going, but that shouldn't take too long."

            "I was thinking about that."  I paused to look at our road map, which was more concerned with highways than the river.  "As best I can tell we’re coming up on Tennessee.  We've already passed the Ohio River, and that was the Northern border of Kentucky."

            Excitement filled me.  Soon, I'd turn from the south to head east.  I could be just days from my family.  Then excitement turned to dread when I thought about what Jenny and the boys could be going through.

            "We'll definitely know when we reach Memphis," Charlie said.  "Bet we can find transportation there."

            I did not like the idea of entering a major city.  He might be right, though.  There would be a lot more abandoned vehicles in the city than in the countryside.  Of course, the thought of the St. Louis zombies merging with the Memphis zombies for a super horde worried me.

            "Crap, another spillway," Mike called from on the bow.

            He lifted the binoculars and studied it.  It was his job to guide me to the side of the river with the locks.  I wasn't too concerned.  The new boat was a lot more stable and took those whitewater locks with ease compared to the pontoon boat.  It was flat-bottomed and had very powerful motors which could get us through just about any situation.  My main concern was finding fuel for those gas guzzlers.

            "We are so fucked," Mike said.  "There's some kind of log jam of boats and barges blocking the locks.  And about half of the spillway, too."

            "Is there a marina we can refuel at?" I asked.  "I think this boat will go over the spillway pretty easily."

            Even Mike looked at me like I was crazy.  The further downriver we went, the greater the difference in water level above and below the dams.  There would probably be a five foot or greater drop.  I had confidence in the boat.  Apparently my friends didn't share the sentiment.

            "Well?  Is there a marina either above or below the dam?"

            Mike shook his head, but looked downriver.  "Yes, but it is covered in zombies.  Hell, the dam and all of the boats are covered with them, too."

            I got a good look at the situation when we reached it.  The locks were on the western side.  And so was the marina, though it was cut out of the shore a ways upriver.  Driving over to the other side of the river showed far fewer zombies.  There were Corps of Engineer buildings and parking lots on both shores, but we would never get to any of those vehicles and their gas tanks.

            I cruised along the long spillway.  It was a massive concrete structure, built up high above the river.  I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like they'd built some kind of road on pillars above the spillway.  Probably for maintenance access.  I couldn't think of another reason.

            "Do you think the boat will pass underneath that?" I asked.

            The spillway looked like a line of concrete squares from our vantage point.  The rain swollen river was going over the spillway in a frothy fury.  Up close it looked a lot scarier, but I still thought the boat could handle it.

            "Probably," Mike said.  "It'll be close."

            "Just watch," Charlie muttered darkly.  "We'll get wedged in there."

            "Do you have another option?  I'm open to suggestions?"  When no one offered anything else, I turned us back upriver.  "Put on lifejackets.  Hold onto your weapons."

            We were in t-shirts, so put on our BDU shirts, WEB gear, and helmets.  If we capsized, all we would come away with from that boat would be what we had on our backs.  I slung my M-4 across my back, made sure my ammo pouches had full magazines, and then downed another beer.

            Charlie lifted a brow at me.  I crushed the beer can, tossed it over the side, and grinned.

            "I'm from the South.  We don't pull stunts like this unless we're drunk," I said.

            "You never told us you were a redneck," Mike said.  "Charlie, I'm scared."

            "I'm not saying I'm a redneck, but my grill's legs have rusted away, so I have it up on cinder blocks," I said.  "You may be a redneck if your grill is on cinder blocks."

            We laughed.  It felt good to laugh, because the closer we came to going over that spillway the more worried I became.  What was it about that boat that gave me such confidence?  Just because it was a "fire and rescue" boat?

            "Just don't say, 'Hey, watch this,'" Charlie said.  "That'll jinx us for sure."

            I turned her toward the spillways.  Not all of them were open, but I aimed for the one closest to the eastern shore.  If it all went wrong, I wanted to keep our swim to shore as short as possible.

            "Here goes nothing!"

            I pushed the throttle forward, picking up speed quickly.  As we neared the spillway I wanted to go over, I adjusted the trim, tilting the motors until the propellers were barely in the water.  I aimed us into the middle of one of those square spillway slots and held my breath.

            "Airborne!" we all shouted.

           
BOOM!

            The impact was intense, and then we were flying in the air.  Hull, roof, and motors had all hit concrete.  We lost everything atop the roof.  The motors both died.  And Mike let out a rebel yell to make any Georgia boy proud.

            We hit with a splash, and water swept back across the boat.  We weren't capsized or swamped, but there was a lot of water.  The bilge pump wasn't running.  Nothing was running.  I tried to lower the trim, but that didn't work.  And the motors wouldn't start.

            "Aw, shit."

            "That worked out well," Charlie said.

            "Screw you.  Help me check the motors.  Mike, can you start bailing water?"

            It was a mess behind the cabin.  As expected, all of the equipment atop the roof was destroyed and littered the space between the cabin and motors.  One of the big Mercury outboards was smoking.  One propeller was missing, while the other was mangled.

            We were drifting rather quickly, thanks to the energy of the water coming over the spillway.  There were paddles, so we weren't completely out of control.  I just wasn't sure how long we had before coming to another dam and spillway.

            "This boat is toast," I said.  "My bad."

            I looked toward shore.  Zombies were wandering down the shoreline.  I could see more up in the trees.  The far shore was worse.  At least we still had some daylight to figure it all out.

            "Yeah.  Guess we walk now," Charlie said.  "How do we get past all of those zombies on shore?"

Chapter 27

            "Stop touching my butt," I shouted.

            Vince was carrying me over his shoulder.  They'd immediately bound my wrists behind my back, before tying my legs above the knee and at my ankles.  The balding bastard leading them was more than happy to toss me over his shoulder and play with my ass as he walked.

            I'd learned in the short time of my captivity that he was Vince Mahan and the other three were his sons: Tanner, Nolan, and Jack.  The boys all looked to be in their early twenties, while Vince had to be mid-forties.

            All four of them were big, burly, and strong.  Tanner, the eldest son, was the long blonde, with the others having very dark brown hair.  All wore long beards.  My first thought was they were stereotypical hillbillies.

            Yeah, I was hearing dueling banjos in my head.  Not comforting at all.

            "She's a fighter, pa," Jack said.  "Are there any more like you back home?"

            I lifted my head to give him a steely gaze through tousled hair.  He snorted a laugh.

            Jack was the youngest, yet still had a full beard.  Like the others, he was dressed in full hunter's camo, complete with a floppy camo hat.

            They must've trudged through those forested mountains for an hour.  We had to be deep in the Chattanooga National Forest.  I couldn't image anyone coming to look for me there.  Still, that was my only hope.

            "You know my friends will come looking for me," I threatened them.  "They're all ex-military.  Marines, soldiers, and all Special Ops, too."

            Those hillbillies didn't know my friends, so I could threaten them with anything I wanted.  They were not the least bit impressed.

            "I've been living up here for thirty-five years and ain't even seen a park ranger in all of that time," Vince said.  His fingers slipped into my butt crack to stroke me very inappropriately.  I felt that stroke to my core.  Panic erupted deep within.  I gasped and stiffened, before starting to kick and struggle with renewed vigor and desperation.  "Ha ha.  Yeah, this girl got spunk.  She's tough."

            "I bet she throws out pretty babies," Tanner said.

            "I'll throw you off this mountain!"

            I could not believe what was happening.  Shit like that only happened in movies.

            "You morons don't understand.  My friends will come after your stinking butts with full automatic weapons.  They are all armed like a small army!"

            The Mahans all stopped in their tracks.  I was amazed I'd actually got to them.  Vince leaned over and deposited me back onto my feet.  He shoved me back against a thick pine and thrust his ugly face so close to mine our noses touched.

            "Automatic weapons?  Like M16s and AK-47s?" Vince demanded.

            "Yes.  Of course," I said.  "Not Russian weapons.  Just American military weaponry."

            "Pa, you know I always wanted one of them M16s," Nolan said.  "That would be so sweet."

            Vince was studying my face.  I was hoping he was trying to determine if I was lying or not.  There was the worry he was enamored and would kiss me.  I turned my face, while giving him the side-eye.  There couldn't be any mistaking my dislike and disgust toward him.

            "You think they'd trade you for M16s and ammo?" he asked.

            "Of course.  I'm more valuable to them than guns," I said.  Truth was, I wasn't so sure.  I'd kind of become the troublemaker since the vote to leave.  Besides, the closest thing to a military grade weapon anyone had was Sean's AR15.  "Just ask them.  You'll see."

            "Well then, let's turn around," Vince said.  "I'll give up pussy for a machine gun."

            I closed my eyes and tried to not respond.  They were disgusting men.  Like father, like sons.  I suspected they were the type to have snatched me even if the apocalypse hadn't happened.  Hell, I wasn't a hundred percent sure they even knew anything was wrong out in the real world.

            "Um, you boys know that the US is at war and the whole country has been nuked or something?" I asked.  "Right?"

            They just looked at me like I spoke a different language.

            "No?  You haven't seen any zombies?"

            "Zombies?" Jack asked, as all three sons' eyes lit up.  Vince was watching me suspiciously.  "Are there really zombies running around eating brains?"

            "I don't know if they eat brains, but yes."

            "That's a bunch of bull crap," Vince said.  "You think we're that stupid?"

            "Actually, I do."  I knew it shouldn't have said it the second it left my lips.  Vince punched me in the belly again.  "Uggh!  Oh, god."

            For a second I thought I would puke.  It hurt so bad.  My face heated up, eyes burned, and tears rolled.  I didn't want to cry.  I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.

            "It's true!  Zombies," I gasped out.  "You'll see.  You'll see."

            "We can ask her friends when they give us guns," Nolan said.  "If she lied to us, we can kick her ass before giving her back."

            "Yeah," Vince said.  "Tanner, it's your turn to carry her."

            Turning, I tried to hop away.  They laughed and Jack tripped me.  I face-planted on the soft ground, but it still hurt like hell.

            "I can walk, dammit," I growled.  "I hate being carried.  Just cut me loose.  You know I can’t escape you."

            To my surprise that worked.  Vince cut my wrists and legs free.

            "If you even look like you want to run away, we'll shoot you in the leg or something," he said menacingly.  "And then kick your ass bloody.  You understand, girl?"

            "Yes.  I understand."

            After all that time tied up and slung over his shoulder, my legs were a little unsteady.  Nolan led the way.  I followed him, with Vince, Tanner, and Jack bringing up the rear.  Since I only had the vaguest idea of where we were, I was more than happy to follow and not try to escape.  Now, once we returned to familiar country, I couldn't promise anything.

            It was mid-morning by the time we reached the meadow.  To my surprise, seven men were looking over the three deer.  All were members of our community.