The Living Dead Series (Book 3): Dead Coast (22 page)

We were waiting for intel and orders. A patrol had gone out a few days ago and never returned. The jungle is full of little villages that were practically invisible from the sky. Most of the occupants were just non-combatants and farmers trying to hide out and live their lives but occasionally VC soldiers holed up there and used them as a base of operations and we had to clear them out. The troops conducting the mission were familiar with the territory and had completed a dozen similar raids before this one. Sergeant Wall said he didn’t know if they were dead or captured but they were our mates and we couldn’t leave them behind.

On the evening of September 20
th
we got the order to move out the next day. Air reconnaissance found evidence of human habitation in the jungle about nine klicks due north. Not far at all.

We left before dawn. The route took us slightly down onto a cleared plain we would have to cross before we entered the jungle again. I felt exposed without the canopy overhead and I knew we were tempting targets for anyone watching from the trees. Crossing quickly we gained the jungle cover and soon found a game trail leading up toward our destination. We kept a constant watch for hidden guard outposts but the two we saw were abandoned. Still, we knew we were getting close.

The trail ended abruptly and we came to a sudden halt. Just past a tall clump of jambu, a clearing revealed seven or eight huts clustered along the fringe of the jungle surrounding neatly-tended, square fields. We saw no one except for a child, naked and covered with dark blood, standing outside one of the huts. He appeared to be in shock and swayed on bare feet, blank eyes unfocused and wide, with a stained bandage taped to his side. The VC often used children as living bombs and we approached carefully but the boy carried no explosives or other weapons that we could see. He did, however, have several bite marks on him that looked oddly human.

We skirted the child and cleared each hut. All were empty but we found helmets and several folding shovels. That was proof enough that our men had been here at some point and gave us hope they were still alive. I paused inside the last hut, thinking something smelled wrong here. A stench of rot lingered in the still air. I checked the dirt floor to see if anything had been buried but the dirt was solidly packed and undisturbed.

I heard a disturbance outside and emerged to see Sergeant Wall trying to pull the bloodied child off of a furious Dalton. The soldier held his bleeding wrist in front of him and glared at the boy who growled and twisted in the sergeant’s grip. He twisted about and his dripping mouth clamped down on Wall’s arm. Fortunately the sergeant had his jacket on and all the child bit was a mouthful of canvas.

The sergeant flung him away, sending him sprawling in the dust but the child immediately began to crawl back. Sarge backed away but the boy never stopped attacking until the sergeant picked him up and threw him into the trees, hitting his head against a mangrove. His skull cracked and covered the tree with a dark ichor. He didn’t get back up. The body stank as if the child had been dead for weeks.

“We’ve lost too much time. I want everyone to spread out. Use the walkies to stay in touch, and everyone meet back here at 1200 hours. We need to wrap this up today.” Wall gestured and we split but none of us got very far.

Two VC, dirty and exhausted, emerged from a camouflaged pit less than thirty meters into the jungle and, hands held high, surrendered. We disarmed them before the sergeant questioned them. Both claimed to know nothing about our missing guys but one of them had a Zippo lighter and a pack of Winfields.

“You know where they are and you’re going to tell me!” The sergeant shook him like a dog shakes a rat. The soldier’s shoulders slumped and he stood and nodded, seeming resigned. His compatriot was silent.

They led us a short distance into the jungle to a pit the top of which was overlaid with fern and bamboo branches. I suspected a trap and kept my eyes on the trees around us. The smell of death was overwhelming. Angry, Sgt. Wall shoved one of the VC toward the pit.

He screamed something like “Bo doi!” and tried to run but Sarge shot his knee out. He fell to the ground and rolled in agony.

A pulley was rigged to a platform that could be lowered and raised to get the prisoners out. The rope was wrapped around a tree. I was closest to the pit, dreading what we were going to see when a faint rustling and then a moan arose from the hole. Someone down there was still alive. I reached around and unwrapped the pulley rope.

The VC started to holler again when he saw us start to pull that rope. I’ve never seen anyone more terrified. The bloody bugger kept yelling “Bo doi!” and tried to stand on that shattered knee, falling down in agony but still pulling himself away, fingers hooked into claws that dug into the jungle floor.

The moaning grew louder and the smell of rot and death was suffocating in the close, moist air. Just from the odor I knew we would be dealing with dead bodies or at least a lot of gangrene. The groaning sounded agonized. I knew the VC used torture but I had hoped I would never see it close-up.

The platform stopped and we pulled it over to level ground. We were surprised that as well as a few of our men there were non-combatants on there. Women and children crawled over each other in their eagerness to escape and all of them were wounded in some way.

Two children stumbled clumsily off the platform and, to our amazement, attacked the wounded VC soldier, latching on to him and burrowing into his exposed flesh with their teeth and hands. Shocked, we didn’t understand what was happening and I think we all just froze for a few seconds, watching until the little girl bit into his throat and blood fountained out in a dark, red arc. The soldier’s screams turned to choked gurgles and then he wasn’t moving anymore.

Something grabbed me by the shoulder and jerked me back hard. I turned to face one of our guys. He reeked of rot and his flesh was a sickly, gray-white. He opened his mouth wide and I saw beetles and worms crawling about the blackened tongue just before he tried to take a bite out of my face. Luckily I flinched and that mouth hit my helmet, knocking me backwards so hard I thought my neck had snapped. I sprawled on the ground and he fell on top of me, that hideously searching mouth still biting. Instinctively, I pulled my knife and thrust it up, driving it into his eye. I swear he didn’t even bleed, just twitched a little then collapsed. Rolling him off of me I retrieved my knife. There was no blood on the blade, just black goo that stank like you wouldn’t believe.

All about me we were fighting the wounded, both the villagers and our guys. The other VC soldier was screaming something. Sergeant Wall paused to listen then shouted, “Shoot them in the HEAD, the HEAD!”

We did. Even now it’s hard to recollect the horror of deliberately shooting women and children, not to mention our own guys. I don’t know what the VC did to them but all of them had serious wounds and advanced gangrene. I honestly don’t know how they were able to move. We threw the bodies in the pit and torched them. The rising column of smoke was like a billboard alerting anyone to our location so we did double-time back to base camp.

Sergeant Wall made sure we kept radio silence all the way back and told us not to speak of the mission to anyone on the radio until he filed his report. He spent a good deal of the evening questioning the prisoner. Apparently “bo doi” means “devil” in Vietnamese and, according to our prisoner, that is what those villagers and soldiers were, or had become. He said the only way to kill them is to burn or behead them, preferably both. He claimed to have no idea what had happened to the rest of the platoon and though we searched, we never found any more information on their whereabouts.

Private Dalton grew worse overnight and the sergeant reckoned he had blood poisoning.  The bite on his arm turned black and gangrenous. The next day a chopper landed at camp and medics loaded him on board along with the captured VC.

The secrecy of our location was now compromised with all the activity so we broke camp and took up a new position, further north. The reports the North Vietcong and our own press put out later about the incident were incomplete and biased. Those creatures were not innocent women and children, slaughtered indiscriminately. I don’t think there was a soldier in our platoon who didn’t have nightmares about that day. I know I still do.

Bea closed the laptop and rolled over onto her back in the velvet mound of emerald moss. She had found this secluded little alcove this morning and begged Fitz to let her use his laptop again. Checking her email proved as fruitless as usual so she was once again going through the British files. The last three days had been quiet as they waited for some sign or communique from the Chinese ship. So far they had heard nothing.

Brian and Moshe spent their time shooting at an improvised target with the bow and arrow set Moshe had found. Moshe was quite a good archer and before long Brian wasn’t bad either.

The wall was complete. Unless the coming dead were able to climb the sheer, steel plates, scale the scree then the cliff, they should be okay.

She had been helping with meals and training with weapons. She had cleaned, disassembled, and loaded almost every type of firearm they had. After this she was issued a Glock, almost identical to the one she lost in the river. Lacking a holster, she stashed the gun in one of the front pockets of her cargo pants for easy access.

They were all on high alert. Mei had packaged their medical supplies for easy transport. Fitz issued everyone a backpack containing water, a knife, and two MREs. Stacks of inflatable boats, grappling rope ladders inside, were tied close to the gate.

It was almost time to set up for supper. The electricity had been on now for close to a week and the meals were consequently much improved. A foraging group found three hens yesterday and triumphantly carried them back, holding them upside down as they squawked. This morning a bedraggled rooster showed up, no doubt looking for his lost harem. All four now scratched contentedly at the bottom of the garden.

A hot, dry wind started blowing in from the east two days ago. If they slept with the tent flaps open they woke up in the mornings covered with a fine grit. After sleeping in the heat of the sealed tent for one night they decided they preferred the grit.

Bea returned the little laptop to Fitz and just as she started down the path to the kitchen she heard a sound, a deep sigh that escalated into a moan but like the moans from a thousand people in ghastly agony. Sentries at the top of the hill were signaling frantically. At the same time the breeze brought a scent of mold and decay, like meat turning, but not quite rotten yet. She ran back up to the hill overlooking the scree. They were here.

A
t first just a few clustered around the base of the wall. Over the past week Bea had gotten used to the slow, shambling pace of the local dead. These were different. Their movements were faster and much more coordinated. They didn’t just run stupidly into the barriers, they seemed to be testing them for openings or weak spots. When they came to the spot where the barriers met the rock cliffs, they continued to dig and grope for handholds. Bea caught her breath when one of them clawed away a loose section of rock.

Brian, Moshe and most of the camp soon joined her. Despite all the training over the past few days, hardly anyone carried their evacuation packs. A few even brought snacks and continued to munch as if they were watching a movie.

Some, though, brought their weapons and were starting to aim them down at the dead before Colonel Hamilton showed up and told them to put them away. He moved through the crowd, repeating the same speech at intervals, speaking quietly but with urgency.

“That’s useless, people. We can’t kill them all. Get your gear together and remember the drill.”

The dead continued to flow into the narrow canyon and spread out along the wall. That musty, moldy scent grew stronger mixed with a faint whiff of decay. Many, many of them were featureless with raw, charred-looking skin.

More rocks from the lower section of the cliff that seemed so solid tumbled to the floor of the canyon leaving a gap large enough to crawl
behind
the barrier. As they climbed the rocks began to fall and scatter and the dead slid down to the base. The builders had planned for this even though none of them thought the dead would ever make it past the steel and concrete forms. The scree was the second line of defense. They knew the slope was unstable, too unstable to climb.

What they
hadn’t
anticipated was that the sheer weight of the dead would press down and stabilize the rocks eventually giving them a climbable slope all the way up to the cliffs. The cliffs stopped them for now, but the corpses on top were already picking and hammering at the rock, causing it to collapse and crush them. Their fellows simply stepped on top of them and continued to claw their way up.

The camp prepared to flee. Bea came upon Virginia helping Daniel and Anna put their packs on. She hoisted Greg up on her hip before picking up her own pack. All three children were calm, possibly because Virginia was so matter-of-fact about what was going on.

“Okay, guys, here’s what’s going to happen. Remember the boats we inflated? Probably in a few minutes we’re taking them down to the beach where we’ll float out to another boat, a really big one. We’ll probably get our own room there after we clear the sick people out.”

“Can we go swimming?” Daniel wanted to know.

“Probably not but we might do a little fishing in a few days.”

“What about the chickens?” Anna asked. All of the children had been excited about the chickens.

Virginia paused. “I hadn’t thought about that. Come with me and let’s look for them.” She turned. “Bea, see you in a minute? Nothing has changed. Men are going in the advance boats to start clearing out any hostiles. We follow with the children.”

“Virginia, I’m going with the advance party. Brian and Moshe are, too.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Here, I have this canvas jacket and I doubt I’ll need it. It’ll give you some protection against bites. Be safe, Bea.” She handed over the jacket. “Come on guys, the chickens are probably roosting in the trees unless someone has already loaded them.”

Bea flew down the hill where Brian and Moshe waited near the rafts. Several of the little boats already bobbed along the waves, the setting sun casting a glare that made it hard to see. Carrying the raft above their heads they ran toward the surf. Decomposed corpses lay along the beach, some still moving feebly, others motionless. Moshe and Brian took care to step on every rotting skull along the way, pounding it when they got a “juicy” one.

“There is something seriously wrong with the Y chromosome,” she muttered under her breath. Out loud she said, “Guys, stop it. Let’s go.”

They paddled furiously until they got past the breakers where the evening wind seemed to make them soar across the waves. Debris, planks and bodies sloshed in the water around them. The huge, hulking ships towered in the distance, menacingly dark with the setting sun behind them. A few boats had already reached their target and figures climbed the twisting grappling rope ladders, swaying with the movement of the ship and struggling to hang on.

So far, both ships remained silent. Half-expecting to be shelled at any moment they covered the last few yards and drew up beside the other rafts. Their ladder hooked on the third try but only one of the hooks latched. They tried to pull it down for another try but the hook held fast.

Looking back they saw more boats heading away from shore. They needed to finish this as soon as possible. The plan was to clear the boat in stages obviously starting with the deck. Once that was safe, the children would board. After that they would move on below deck. They expected that stage to be…complicated.

“I’m going first. Once I’m up I’ll fix the other hook.”

She was halfway up when the ship pitched, slamming her into the metal hull, knocking the breath out of her. She gripped the ropes, wrapping them around her forearms until she got her breath back. Above her the hook scraped along the railing, sliding several feet to the right. She looked down and was surprised to feel terrified at how far the little boat was below her. She had never feared heights before.

Focusing on the railing looming above was better. She took a deep breath and climbed slowly, fearing another pitch of the ship, forcing her legs to stop shaking. After an eternity she gained the top. There were several figures clustered along the rails in the distance but she couldn’t tell what they were doing. She yanked the ladder up and fastened both hooks securely. Brian began to climb with Moshe close behind. The wind caught them and they swayed far out over the water. What she thought were screams of terror turned out to be those of delight instead and she rolled her eyes as they clambered over the railing, still laughing.

“Come on. Weapons ready,” she said, pulling out her knife. The boys followed and they made their way across the deck, learning to adjust their steps to the motion of the ship.

The figures near the rail were their own people, David and Ian among them. They finished flinging a body over the side then came back for three more that lay prone on the deck, all wearing filthy blue uniforms. Broken skulls leaked black fluid onto the deck. They stepped around the noisome puddles and pitched the bodies into the waves.

“There were just a few of them up here. Piece of cake,” David said. “The interesting part will be next.”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” Ian said. “Come on; let’s get the kids up out of the water.”

But the boats weren’t there. Looking back toward the shore they saw only two boats heading their way. There should be five. They searched the dark water for the others but-

Bea exclaimed, “I see them! In the water, they must have gone down. They’re still alive, Look, you can see them waving!”

The ladders still hung from the railing but their rafts had broken free of their moorings and were gone. Ian kicked off his shoes, and dived over the side. David, Cam, and more men followed. Bea stopped the boys.

“Don’t. Someone has to be here to haul the children up. They’re too small to climb.”

They could do nothing but watch as the men fought through the waves, trying to push those floating in the water into the remaining rafts which were now dangerously overloaded. One began to go down. They soon saw why.

Dead, water-swollen hands pulled on the sides of the boat, trying to reach their prey inside. Water rushed into the little craft and they flipped, spilling the occupants into the cold water. The wind caught the children’s terrified screams and carried them out to Bea and the boys.

Something moved in the corner of Bea’s vision and she looked to the right. A small flotilla of lifeboats with Chinese markings rounded the side of the ship, headed toward the hapless passengers. Paddling as if their lives depended on it, the blue-uniformed soldiers shouted as they raced across the waves, trying to catch the passengers’ attention.

Reaching the scene they used the paddles to pull the passengers in, reaching out and snatching others away from the grasp of the hideous, ravening dead. Once they had a full boat, they fought through the floating debris of planks and dead, making for the ship where they tied the children to the ladders so Bea and the boys could haul them up. Their mothers struggled up next and collapsed onto the deck then gathered their children into their arms.

Screams broke out as one woman realized her daughter was not among the children. She ran to the side, desperately scanning the waves before diving in. The dead were waiting and she didn’t re-surface.

Bea waited with Anna and Daniel, both lying on the deck, exhausted and shivering. She took off Virginia’s canvas jacket and wrapped it around them. She hadn’t seen Virginia in the water and feared the worst. Moshe and Brian, still waiting at the rail, suddenly
whooped
and ran to the ropes. Bea ran too.

David, swaying on the tossing ladder, climbed up and over the railing, falling onto the deck, exhausted. His skin looked blue and he shook uncontrollably. He looked at her intently for a moment then reached for her. She gasped when he encircled her waist and pulled her toward him but his lips were surprisingly warm and he kissed her hard. He tasted like salt and honey.

Ian climbed up next and he leaned over the side, shouting something encouragingly. He and the boys pulled the ropes and Virginia reached the rail and climbed onto the deck, still holding her son in her arms. Bea exclaimed and started forward then stopped. Greg’s eyes were closed; his head lolled across Virginia’s shoulder.

Virginia sank to her knees. “He slipped out of my arms when the boat flipped. Please, God, please.”

Greg’s hair, soft as down, was sodden and dripped water onto the deck. He didn’t move. Virginia turned him over, rubbed his back hard then turned him and kissed his pale, cold face. His arms flopped back as she held him closer in desperation, still rubbing his back, trying to warm him.

Ian, a look of dawning horror on his face, took his boy and began to compress his chest, pinching his nostrils and breathing into his mouth with short, quick puffs. Greg lay limp and cold. Ian, hands shaking now, tried again but the baby didn’t respond. Virginia took him in her arms and began to scream, rocking her baby back and forth. It was a long time before she stopped.

~

Bea, wearing rubber gloves and a surgical mask provided by their Chinese hosts, pulled another moldering husk of a body out into a cramped corridor and scanned the walls as she dragged it along. She didn’t want to get lost again. Private Tsou, noticing her confusion in the lower regions of the ship had taught her the Chinese character for “Exit” last night and she was eternally grateful. The ship was a giant and confusing labyrinth to her.

Within minutes of rescuing everyone from the water last night, the Chinese opened up the passageway to below-decks and started rooting out and destroying their infected crewmen. This ship was identical to their own and they were familiar with the layout, even in the near-dark. The crew was busy until late in the night. Once they were done, the Americans volunteered to extract the infected remains. The Chinese allowed this but David noticed they were very cautious about letting them near certain sections of the ship.

There was no time to worry overmuch about it. The deck was freezing after dark and they desperately needed to get the children below. They had sustained heavy losses and now numbered fewer than twenty souls. Most of their lost had been women and children and they had also lost Cam. No one had seen him go under but one of the children said the giant red-headed man had pushed her into a boat but she didn’t see him anymore after that. No one had seen Barry, Pam, or Colonel Hamilton again either.

Mei made a point of working with Tsou last night and gleaned as much information as he was willing to give her. Apparently after he returned to the ship and gave the letter to his captain, he added his own personal plea for mutual assistance. The captain angrily ordered him confined to quarters. In spite of this, over the next two days he was able to talk to enough of the crew to spread the proposal around. There had already been a near-mutiny a few days ago in which the captain had been unable to confine (or execute) all of the rebels as the crew was already so reduced that no one was expendable.

The morning of the evacuation Private Tsou and his co-conspirators made their move. The captain was relieved of command (at gunpoint) and tied up. After they disabled the ship and its weapons they released him and left him there. Tsou and a few others were already leaving for shore when they saw the refugee boats going down in the water.

Mei relayed this information to David and others but she was uncharacteristically downcast since they had boarded the ship. It was understandable. They had all been through a lot and she was probably as exhausted as anyone. Nevertheless she spent hours with him and Private Tsou, interpreting while the three of them discussed their next moves. David still wanted to go north in hopes of finding a non-infested refuge with a water supply and tillable land.