The Left Series (Book 2): Left Alone (40 page)
I walked beside Batfish, not wanting to let her out of my sight now that we’d got her back. The Cajun girls followed with Headlong trailing at the rear.
We ambled alongside the Navy boat and I was disappointed that Smith hadn’t yet started the engines. He was still stood on the dock facing the river, staring out into the night.
“Come on, Smith. We got to go, man,” I bleated and slapped his shoulder.
He seemed to stir from his temporary trance.
“Yeah, right. Let’s go.” He followed the three girls onto the Navy boat deck.
“You fire up the engines and I’ll slip the ropes?” I suggested. “Just don’t head off without me.”
Smith smiled and turned to move to the control cabin.
Headlong stepped onboard and drew his hand gun. He aimed at Smith and I felt a sudden shockwave pulse through my body.
Headlong called out in a loud, authoritative tone. “Sorry folks, there is now a change of plan.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” I hissed. “I thought we were all on the same team now?”
Headlong turned his head and gave me strange look that said I was a fool to believe that. Smith stopped in his tracks, the Cajun girls huddled together and Batfish cuddled Spot close. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
“We’re not taking this boat. We’re going to sail out of the city in style. We’re taking the paddle steamer.”
“You got to be shitting me,” I muttered.
Headlong smiled and flashed me a wink. “Nope. From what you guys told me, that steamer has all the guns, dope and food I need to set up somewhere else. I’d take the boat myself but I haven’t got a damn clue how to start or steer the thing.” He turned back to Smith. “So you are going to be my helmsman, Smith.”
Smith turned to face Headlong. “What makes you think I have any idea how to get that thing going? I’ve never even been on a paddle steamer until we went on there yesterday, let alone crewed one.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now, everybody off this floating piece of shit and make your way onto the steamer. We’re going for a little cruise”
“You’re totally crazy,” Batfish spat. “These guys have helped you and got you out of some deep shit.”
“Sorry, honey. It’s a dog eat dog world,” Headlong said, with a facetious smirk on his face.
“We’re not doing it,” Smith insisted. “Don’t you think I haven’t thought about taking the steamer? It’s too old and slow and another thing, I don’t have a clue how to run it. Forget it, we’re not using it. Now, you can put that gun down and we can forget all about this little dilemma and you can come with us or you can turn around and go your own way.”
The sarcastic smile slipped from Headlong’s face. “I’m giving the orders, Smith. And I say we’re taking the steamer. I’m the one holding the gun on you.”
I thought about going for my Smith & Wesson inside my waistband. The problem I had was the magazine was empty and I wouldn’t have time to reload.
“Wilde is the only other one who is armed here,” Headlong continued. “If he goes for his gun, I’ll shoot you. But I know he won’t. He won’t risk your life, Smith. You are too important to him.”
“How about if I go for my gun?” Smith asked. “What will you do?”
Headlong’s sarcastic smile returned. “I’ll have no choice but to shoot you, Smith. But I know you ‘aint that dumb.”
Smith shuffled on his feet so he was fully facing Headlong, twenty feet of deck space between them. He stared into Headlong’s eyes and stood with his feet apart like a gunslinger from the Wild West days.
I had the foreboding feeling the situation wasn’t going to end well.
“Hey, come on, guys. Let’s stop this, now,” I shouted.
“I’m not being held at gun point anymore,” Smith growled. “We came here to get Batfish and we’ve done that. Now, we go our separate ways, if need be but I’m not going anywhere with a gun held to my head.”
“Put the gun down, Headlong,” Batfish pleaded. “No one needs to get shot, right now.”
I glanced behind me, back towards the city and wondered how long it would be before a patrol came by to check on the docks. Headlong had really hit us with a bombshell and landed us right in the shit.
“Come on, man. We don’t have time for this shit,” I hollered but Headlong was unrepentant. He continued to train his hand gun on the center of Smith’s chest.
“I’m going to go for my gun, Headlong,” Smith said, slowly and calmly.
“Don’t make me do it, man,” Headlong wheezed through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to shoot you, Smith. But I will if I have to.”
Smith moved his hand around his back to his waistband. I held my breath and heard Batfish let out a little, shrill shriek. Headlong leveled his hand gun and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Headlong pulled the trigger several more times, producing only a series of clicks instead of the loudness of a cordite charged gun shot. He emitted a kind of disheartened howl and shook his head in disbelief.
Smith stood still with his own hand gun held at his side, staring menacingly into Headlong’s eyes.
“You think I’d trust you with a loaded weapon?” Smith growled. “I handed you that gun with an empty magazine, you piece of shit. I had a feeling you’d try and pull some stunt like this.”
Headlong whimpered and looked at the gun as though it was melting. “You sold me out, Smith. All that time I thought I had a loaded weapon and you didn’t trust me?”
Smith shook his head. “No, I didn’t trust you as far as I could shit. Now, I suggest you turn around and get the fuck off this boat or I’m going to shoot you in the face. You’ve got around ten fucking seconds.”
The breath zipped out of me like a deflating balloon. Relief washed through me but I also felt horrified. I couldn’t believe Headlong would have actually gone through with it and shot Smith.
The Cajun girls huddled together and Batfish stood rigid in shock, holding Spot in one arm and her free hand covering her mouth.
Headlong sighed like he knew he was beaten. He dropped the hand gun on the deck and turned to leave. He shuffled around the central lockers into the shadows and I saw a figure pounce from the darkness and wrap itself around his back. Headlong shrieked in a high pitched scream of terror. I recoiled in shock, Batfish and the two Cajun girls screeched in panic but Smith stood still and remained calm.
The attacking figure grabbed Headlong tighter and they moved across the deck in a kind of macabre, shuffling dance out of the shadows. The moonlight illuminated the pair and I recognized the attacker as the reanimated corpse of Tippy.
Headlong screamed but Tippy wasn’t going to give up. She lurched at Headlong and bit a huge chunk of flesh from his right cheek. He wailed in a combination of pain and misery as the realization he was now infected hit home.
Tippy snaffled at his face wound with renewed vigor due to the taste of fresh blood. Headlong briefly released himself from her grip and swiveled around to face his attacker. She pounced again but Headlong jammed the palm of his hand underneath her chin and pushed her head backwards.
Smith raised his gun and took a few paces towards the battling pair.
“You fucking ugly bitch,” Headlong shrieked. His words were distorted because of the huge tear in his cheek.
“It’s over,” Smith yelled, above the snarls and screams. He aimed his gun at Headlong’s forehead.
Tippy lurched at Headlong again and they staggered sideways into the guard rails. Headlong made one last attempt to break free from the zombie’s grip but the momentum and Tippy’s weight caused them both to reel over the top of the guard rails. The two of them disappeared from my view and I heard a loud splash of water from the opposite side of the deck.
Smith hurried over to the guard rails and looked down into the dark river.
“They’ve gone,” he muttered. “The tide will probably take them down river someplace.”
“Oh my God,” Batfish sighed and moved alongside Smith. “Are you okay, honey?” She gripped Smith’s upper arm.
“Sure, never better.”
I stood on the dock with my hands on top of my head, hardly able to comprehend what had just played out in front of me.
“Can we please get the fuck out of here, now?” I yelled.
Smith turned to me with a slight smile on his face. I guess he thought the expression of shock and bewilderment on my face was amusing.
“Slip the ropes, Mr. Wilde and I’ll start this beast up,” he said.
Smith had fired up the engines and turned the boat around ten minutes later. I stood on the deck watching the city as we floated by. Batfish appeared alongside me and we stood in silence watching the dark buildings pass by.
“Do you think anyone will survive?”
“People will always survive,” I said. “Whether that’s good or bad, I don’t know. Most people don’t seem to be good anymore.”
“We’re basically good people, aren’t we, Brett?”
I turned to look Batfish in the eye. “I like to think so.”
“Where are we headed, any idea?”
I shook my head. “We haven’t got much fuel and we’ll have to be careful, wherever we’re heading. I don’t know who’s more dangerous, the zombies or the surviving humans.”
We stood on the deck, listening to the hum of the engines and the sounds of the river running alongside us. We’d somehow survived another day but who knew how many more we had left?
THE END
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