The Infected Dead (Book 3): Die For Now (6 page)

I don’t know how many times I had seen the houseboat, but I remembered how I had felt the first time. As a matter of fact, I remembered how Jean, Kathy, and the Chief had reacted the first time they saw it. They had been awestruck to be so lucky to have found a place where they could be safe after the infected had swarmed through the cruise liner they were traveling on. Not knowing that I had a buried shelter with all the trimmings, they had been prepared to beg to stay in the houseboat.
 

I had been the same way when I saw it the first time, but to me it was like a cool place to live. The world hadn’t come to an end yet, and I just thought it was going to be my new apartment tied to a remote island. If it had been just a houseboat without the shelter, I probably would have just sold the whole thing because there was no internet. In reality, it was nothing more than a really good decoy. If anyone spotted the houseboat, they wouldn’t look for the shelter.

The forward motion changed from a roar and bouncing to the smooth droning of the engine and a gliding feeling. I knew the Chief had lifted the plane free of the water, and we were on our way again.

The Chief and Bus were in the front seats because they were both pilots. There was plenty of room in the passenger section of the plane, but Allison was sitting as close to Tom as she could, and that gave me more room to stretch out. Tom was visibly uncomfortable about Allison’s jealousy, but Kathy was acting like it was just another day in South Carolina. She wasn’t going to give in to Allison’s petty behavior at a time when their lives were at risk. Unlike Allison, Kathy didn’t think everything was all about her.

To lighten the mood, I called up front to the Chief and asked him to tell me again why we had to keep leaving the shelter. It worked for me and the Chief because he started laughing.

“I’m glad you asked, Ed,” he yelled over his shoulder. “The fact is that we don’t have to leave the shelter. We just do it because we’re too stupid to know any better.”

“I do it because it’s the only real entertainment we have,” said Kathy.

Not to be outdone, I said, “I do it because I like to meet new people.”

“I want to leave the shelter because I don’t like the food,” said Bus.

Tom was feeling the spirit of the moment and said, “I only do it because the pay is good.”

Five of us were laughing until Allison said, “You’re all going to die because you don’t have the sense to stay safe in the shelter.”

I thought Kathy could be scary when I saw her in full-attack mode, but the look she got on her face passed anything I had ever seen.

“Say something like that again, and I’ll put you out of this plane before we land,” said Kathy. Her voice was calm and controlled, but that look was not something I ever wanted to see aimed at me.

Allison looked at Tom for help, but the anger on his face wasn’t for what Kathy had said.

“Allison, when we get to Morris Island, you fly out with Bus while we go to Fort Sumter,” said Tom.
 

She started to say something back to Tom, but she moved away from him instead. She crossed her arms across her chest and fixed her eyes on a spot on the ceiling of the plane. That was somewhat of a trademark reaction from her when she knew she had gone too far. I half expected to hear her say she would be talking with her lawyer after she got back to Mud Island.

The Chief steered a course straight out to sea. We had all agreed we were less likely to be shot down by Navy ships than by land based shooters. We didn’t want to advertise our arrival at Charleston harbor, and we didn’t want to take any damage before we got there, so the plan was to fly out far enough to where the plane couldn’t be heard from land, then we would fly down the coast until we were southeast of Morris Island.

Bus was scanning the water in front of us with binoculars. Chances were that any military ship we saw would already have us in its crosshairs by the time we saw it, but it would be good to know if we had any company. After all, something had blown the Russian ship to pieces, and the odds were good it had been the US Navy.
 

He pointed about ten degrees to the left of center, and we strained to see what he had spotted. Bus passed the binoculars to the Chief, and he took a quick look before passing them back to me. It was a military ship, but it was too far away to tell what navy it belonged to. The Chief adjusted our course so we would be heading more to the southeast, and he gave us a bit more speed to increase our distance from the ship a little more quickly. There was no sense in provoking the ship, no matter who they were. If we weren’t a threat to them, there would be no need for them to shoot us down.

Sooner than I had expected, the Chief began turning back toward the mainland. It was a beautifully clear spring day, and the view was spectacular. Of course it wouldn’t be so spectacular close up. Even though we couldn’t see the city streets of Charleston and didn’t plan to do any sight-seeing, it wasn’t hard to imagine what it must look like. There would be no safe place for a living being to hide.

We were within view of Morris Island in only a few minutes, and the Chief adjusted his course again to bring us more to the south before approaching the island. He also lowered our altitude until we were just a few feet above the water. Atlantic swells aren’t as high as Pacific swells, so it was easy for him to keep an eye on them. I had faith that he wouldn’t clip the top of a wave and send us into a cartwheel, but at this altitude, the plane seemed to be traveling faster. The water rushed past and the shoreline grew in size.

The Chief steered down the length of Folly Beach and then came in close to shore for the final turn toward the north. It gave us a clear view of the beach houses we had passed when we traveled by boat down to the Stono River. The wide porches of the beach houses weren’t occupied this time. There were no zombie watching parties and no decks painted with signs begging for rescue.

The beach was littered with trash and long dead corpses of animals and people. When the end came to the people trapped in their beach houses, it was probably a mixed bag of attempted escapes and failed attempts to keep the infected dead from getting inside.

Kathy pointed at something on the main road behind the beach houses, and we all looked in that direction. Someone was speeding between cars and debris on an ATV. The rider looked like a well muscled surfer with long hair, and he knew how to handle his four wheel vehicle. He disappeared under a beach house that was on high stilts and emerged again on the beach. We could see tracks in the sand that he appeared to be following, and they led back to another house down the beach.

“Smart,” said Kathy. “He’s holed up in the last beach house toward the southern end of the island, and he draws the infected away from the house before using the beach to get back to the house.”

The Chief said, “While he’s drawing them away, someone else either leaves or returns with supplies.”

“Should we try to recruit them?” asked Tom.

“We don’t know if they’re friendly,” said the Chief.

We were past the last house too soon for us to see if he had fellow survivors either coming to or leaving from the house. I imagined the scenario was being repeated up and down the coast, and on a less successful scale in the cities.

The lighthouse at the end of Folly Beach passed by at high speed, and the Chief gently lowered the plane to the water. He coasted toward the beach with just enough power to keep us moving forward, but the sound of the engine attracted the attention of several infected dead that appeared from behind the sand dunes.
 

They had undoubtedly washed ashore on Morris Island because they were of the waterlogged variety. They were almost too heavy with water to reach the crest of the dunes, and when they did, it was more like stop, drop, and roll than an attack. We would have plenty of time to unload our gear and prepare for their arrival on our part of the beach.

As the Chief brought the plane to a stop, he reminded all of us to check the water before jumping off of the pontoons. There could easily be infected under the surface or stuck in the sand. All I saw was blue crabs scurrying away from the plane, and I thought about Jean.

I was a little less worried about Jean this time than I had been when we left her at the shelter the last time. She had Molly to keep her company, her pregnancy made her less capable of going on any missions, and she had learned some valuable lessons the last time. The Russian ship was gone, but someone had sunk the ship, and they were still out there. Mud Island was also swarming with the infected dead, and she knew it.

Once everyone was out of the plane, Bus started to circle around to the other side to get to the pilot’s seat.
 

The Chief caught his arm as he went by. “Not so fast, Bus,” he said. “We need to make a change of plans.”

Everyone gathered around the Chief in front of the plane, and we all shared the same look of confusion.

“I’m taking Allison back to Mud Island,” he said. “The rest of you can locate the tunnel and get inside where you can be safe. I’ll only be a couple of hours at the most.”

Allison was furious. She looked at Tom for support, for some reason surprised that she wasn’t getting it. I wasn’t surprised, and I don’t think anyone else was either. She started to say something else, but the Chief stopped her.

He said, “I don’t want to hear it, and I should have put you back inside the shelter when I had the chance. I’ve been watching you on the flight to Charleston, and you’re just going to get someone killed.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she said defiantly.

“Oh, yes I can,” said the Chief, “and you can either get back in the plane or I can put you in. It’s your choice.”

Allison looked at Tom one more time to get his support. He made eye contact with her and held it, but it was clear that he agreed with the Chief.
 

Kathy had turned away from the group and was watching the approaching infected dead. I had a feeling she wasn’t as concerned with them as she was about an open fight with Allison. There was no question about who would win, but that was the best reason to avoid the fight in the first place.

Bus was the only one to voice an opinion, and he said, “We need to get the plane off the beach anyway, Chief. Why not just have her go with me?”

“I’m not losing you and the plane, Bus. I don’t have much faith that her attitude wouldn’t get you killed,” he said. “That’s all I have to say on the subject. Let’s go, Allison.”

The Chief gave me and Tom a nod that meant he wanted us to rotate the seaplane. He didn’t need to use words as he climbed back into the pilot’s seat because we had seen the look before. Allison stood with her arms crossed glaring at him, but even then she looked more like she was defending herself rather than attacking.

The Chief looked over at her and said, “That’s exactly why you’re going back, Allison. We can’t spend all of our time protecting you. We all need to be able to depend on each other, and while we’re all watching your back, who’s watching ours? Now, get in the plane.”

Allison took one more look at each of us and then got in the plane. All she got to see of Kathy was her back. Tom and I rotated the plane as the Chief started the engine. He quickly turned the plane when it started to float and took it to full power as fast as he could. We watched the plane get smaller as it sped away, lifted off, and banked to the south.

“We should start moving,” said Kathy.
 

I saw her and Tom exchange looks for a moment. I wasn’t sure what they meant, but Kathy’s look seemed to say, “You could do better,” and Tom’s look seemed to say, “I know.”

We gathered our gear and headed for the dunes. The infected dead had made it onto the beach, and they were in our way but not being a problem. They held their arms out greedily as we approached, but they were all in the sand and not moving within seconds.
 

Once we had ended the miserable existence of the infected, we set out as quickly as we could go, using the high resolution pictures to locate the hidden tunnel entrance. It only took about thirty minutes to find the right spot and another ten minutes to uncover the secure door. It was located in the side of a dune and sat at about a forty-five degree angle. Bus dialed in the combination on the lock, and the door opened as if the hinges had been oiled recently.

We quickly stashed our gear inside and then gathered as much loose brush together as we could. I pulled out a huge roll of duct tape, and we began taping the brush to the outside of the door. We even fastened several long strips of tape to the door with large areas of the sticky side facing outward. We threw sand against it and were pleased with the results. When we pulled the door shut from the inside, it had to be hard to spot from a distance.
 

With the door shut behind us, the four of us dug out our flashlights and got together in a huddle over a hand drawn map.

“While the Chief is gone, there’s no reason why we can’t scout this tunnel,” said Kathy. “I think it would be a good idea to find out if the Fort Sumter shelter has been compromised before we get too comfortable.”

“I agree,” I said. “We should use flashlights until we’re sure it’s safe. No talking unless we have to. We don’t know how well sound carries in this tunnel.”

Kathy said, “Good thinking, Eddie.”