The Reckoning - 02 (3 page)

             
I inspected it every season to make sure it was still functional, but I hadn’t checked it out yet this year.
I hoped it was still intact.
I also hoped it was thick enough to withstand Odin’s claws. His claws had shredded things before. The kids' slip 'n' slide, several footballs and basketballs, a half a dozen swimming pool toys and one of my wife's inflatable Halloween yard decorations. Don't tell her it was the dog. I convinced her it was some kids from the neighborhood.

             
With a pull of the cord, the raft quickly inflated.
It took me by surprise and nearly knocked me off into the water.
I’d never opened it on the boat before. I’d always checked it on dry land. I had to grab the rail for support as the raft settled to the deck.
I looked back at it with a smile, seeing that it was intact and holding air. Odin looked at it like a giant chew-toy, but I kept him back with a hand on his collar.

             
“See, boy,” I said, “nothing to worry about.”

             
For his part, Odin just looked at me quizzically and sneezed. Taking that as a dismissal, I turned back to the raft.
I threaded a rope through one of the mooring rings and tied it off.
Then I lowered it into the water beside the
Caitríona.
Once it was upright in the water, I tied off the other end to the railing.
Content that the line was secure, I picked up the binoculars and started sweeping the shoreline.
Inflating the raft had made a lot of noise and I wanted to make certain that it hadn’t attracted any unwanted visitors.
Fortunately, it hadn’t.

             
“OK, boy,” I said. “Time to go
a Viking
[1]
.
”

“Am fear nach glèidh na h-airm san t-sìth, cha bhi iad aige 'n àm a' chogaidh.”

“He that keeps not his arms in time of peace will have none in time of war.”

-
         
Celtic Proverb

              I emptied out my backpack and put the contents on the galley table.
I was going to need all the cargo space I could muster.
All I was planning on taking with me were weapons, ammo and some water.
Anything more than that would only add to the weight.
This was a scavenging trip, not a combat run.
Besides that, my best chance for pulling this off lay in stealth.
I was going to be searching for anything I could use, but I really was hoping to find weapons.

             
I knew searching my sister-in-law’s house for weapons was a lost cause.
She hated guns and insisted I never carry one in her house.
I always had to lock my pistol in the truck or on the boat.
Funny, I never heard her complain when I was using them to fight the zombies.
I guess the zombies weren’t cute enough for her to worry about their rights.
Or maybe it was because
Bambi
never tried to eat her. I guess I wasn't a knuckle-dragging caveman, anymore. Funny how things suddenly changed when the world went to shit.

             
I slipped back into my interceptor vest and equipment belt, then checked the pistols.
Both of the Beretta’s were loaded and ready to go.
I attached both of their holsters to the interceptor.
Then I checked the Army Colt.
The old girl was loaded and ready.
The weight of it on my right hip was comforting as I slid it back into the holster.
I decided to leave the .357 on the boat.
It only had the bullets that were in it and then it was useless as anything but a club.
Better to leave it behind as a backup weapon.
My combat knife went back into my boot.

             
I left all the ammo that was still in boxes, too.
That left me eight loaded magazines for the 9mm and the loaded loops on the belt for the Colt.
If I needed more ammo than that, I had bigger problems than I could handle.
I was hoping I wouldn’t even have to fire a shot. When the shooting began, I'd better be running for the boat or things would get extremely interesting in a very short amount of time.

             
I briefly considered leaving Odin on the boat.
I hated to risk taking him and getting him hurt or lost.
There was also the risk that he’d bark and give away my position, but I just couldn’t leave him behind.
Partly because I hated to think of him starving out here by himself if something were to happen to me.
Mostly though, I just figured he’d jump off the boat and follow me anyway.

             
It was almost as if Odin sensed what I was thinking and took the decision out of my hands.
He padded over to the edge and jumped off into the raft.
It was settled.
Odin was coming along for the trip and that was that. I put two short paddles into the raft and climbed down into it.
Odin found himself a comfortable spot near the front and lay down with his head on the gunwales so he could see where we were going.
I took off my pack and sat it behind him, then settled into my seat near the back of the raft.

             
I took the opportunity to scan the area one more time with the binoculars.
Satisfied that we were still alone in the immediate area, I sat them down and picked up a paddle.
Slowly, I began paddling towards shore.
Noise was now my enemy. I reached the dock a few minutes later and cautiously peered over the edge.
There was still nothing there.
I tied off the mooring line with a slipknot so I could pull it quickly if I had to return in a hurry.
Odin was the first to scramble up onto the dock.
It wasn’t a big leap for him and he made it easily.
I followed behind him, albeit a bit more clumsily.

             
Once my footing was secure, I pulled out one of the Berettas and brought it up into a two handed grip with my trigger finger extended along the slide.
I walked slowly so that my tactical boots made no sound on the wooden dock.
I swept wide and to the left so that I could see into the small boathouse.
The door was padlocked and appeared intact.
That was good, since there was a tank inside with about a hundred gallons of fuel in it for the boats.

             
Satisfied that nothing was going to jump out and grab me, I headed towards shore.
I kept glancing into the water, half expecting to see figures walking around in the murky water.
Fortunately, I didn’t see any. Every creak of the boards and slight movement from the water almost made me jump. The air was electric with the tension I felt, knowing that any sound could be bringing a horde down on us.

             
Odin trotted along the dock and headed for shore, his nails clicking softly on the boards.
Once he was ashore, Odin did what most dogs do.
He sniffed around and found a spot to mark his territory.
I left him to his task and moved quietly to the hedgerow that separated my sister-in-law’s yard from the shoreline.
I could clearly see the house and the driveway where my wife’s blazer and my sister-in-law’s Escalade were parked.
What I didn’t see were zombies.

             
I leaned out cautiously and looked to my left down the hedgerow, and froze.
About thirty yards away was a single
Shambler
, shuffling slowly away from me.
My first instinct was to snap a shot and put one in the back of its head.
Unfortunately, that would make entirely too much noise and defeat the purpose of a stealth supply run. I needed to take it out silently.

             
I did another quick look around and determined that this was the only zombie in the area.
Pulling the combat knife from my boot, I motioned for Odin to stay and started moving off towards the
Shambler
as quietly as I could.
I had closed within six feet of it when I heard Odin start to growl behind me.

             
“Oh shit,” I whispered, and leapt forward.

             
The
Shambler
stopped and tilted its head, listening to the sound. That’s when I struck.
I grabbed a handful of the putrid thing’s hair with my left hand and yanked.
The zombie stumbled and the head snapped over, exposing the right side of the neck.
Without hesitation, I plunged the blade into the flesh at an upward angle.
It slid home beneath the skull and just to the right of the spine.
Once it sank to the hilt, I gave it a sharp twist and yanked the blade free with a sickening, wet, slurping sound.

             
Foul smelling black blood gushed from the wound and dripped from the blade.
I could also see pieces of the brain on the blade and in the wound.
The
Shambler
fell like a puppet with the strings cut, and didn’t make a sound other than the impact on the grass.
Then I heard Odin growl, again. If you've ever owned a mastiff, you'd know that meant trouble. They rarely growl unless they see or hear something they perceive as danger. From the tone of his growl, I knew we had serious trouble.

             
I spun around in time to see two more zombies emerge from the hedge at the end of the yard.
Odin was growling at them and backing towards me.
I kept my fingers crossed that neither of them were
Shriekers
as I ran towards Odin.
The first one emerged from the hedges and let out a gurgling hiss, foul black blood oozing from its lipless mouth.
Its gaze shifted from Odin to me and it launched itself right at me.
The speed was terrifying.

             
“
Sprinter
!” my brain screamed.

             
I didn’t have time for any other thoughts because it covered the distance to me in three long strides.
It came at me heedless of anything other than making me into a meal. The sheer speed of the creature was terrifying. The distance between us vanished in the span of a few heartbeats. Reacting instinctively,
I drove the knife up and toward its face. We crashed into one another and went to the ground in a heap.
I was punching and shoving at it before we landed.

             
I had slashed a deep wound to the side of its neck and face, but didn’t score a critical hit.
The ghastly face was inches from mine, teeth gnashing with an audible click.
The only thing that kept it from sinking those teeth into my face was that my arm was across its throat. Its strength was incredible and it forced its teeth closer to my exposed face. I had to act quickly or it would take a big chunk out of the side of my neck.

             
Tightening my grip on the handle of the knife, I yanked my arm back and across the throat of the ghoul.
The blade sank to the bone in the decaying flesh and caught on the vertebrae.
I used the momentum to force it off of me and to the side.
When it hit the ground, I yanked the knife free and drove the blade in through the right eye socket.
It sank home with a squishing sound and I felt the tip of the blade scrape against the back of the skull. I gave it a sharp twist, just to be sure.

             
With a sound not unlike squishing a tomato I pulled the knife free, slinging the gore off of it into the grass.
Then I looked up to where the second zombie was now shambling after Odin.
The zombie had a bad leg and was dragging it behind him.
Odin was not putting any effort into getting away from it, but seemed to be keeping its attention off of me.
I used this to my advantage and walked right up behind it.

             
Grabbing another handful of disgusting hair, I pulled the head back exposing the throat. I plunged the knife up and into the back of the brain.
It stopped flailing and crumpled to the ground, lifeless once more.
I tore the knife free as it fell and waited to see if it would try to rise, again.
It didn’t.

             
Odin was sitting a few yards away, looking at me as if to say, “What kept you?”

             
“Thanks, boy,” I replied, smiling.

             
Odin seemed to smile in return and began panting.
His huge tongue lolled out of his mouth, leaving a long trail of drool that nearly reached the ground.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.

             
Shaking the worst of the gore from the knife, I proceeded to clean it off on the tattered remains of the zombie’s shirt.
Then I returned to the water’s edge and cleaned off the rest of the gore, both from the knife and from my face.
Satisfied that it was as clean as I could make it, I dried it off on my pants and slid it back into the sheath.

             
With another glance up and down the shore, I returned to where Odin was still sitting.
I didn’t see any undead in our area, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there.
I’d just learned that lesson the hard way. Behind us, I could hear splashing sounds as something was disturbing the water near the dock.

             
I spun around in time to see three of the dead emerging from the water. Their already terrifying appearance was intensified by the ghoulish look given to them from being immersed in the water for who knows how long. They had clinging pieces of vegetation on their torsos and arms, and their flesh had a melted wax look that gave them a sinister visage.

             
As the first one emerged from the water and onto the shore, I stepped quickly forward and jammed the blade of my knife into its forehead. It fell back into the water with a heavy splash. The second one reached for me and I shoved its hands to the side with my left hand, then slammed the blade into its exposed ear with my right. With a twist, I yanked the blade free and stepped back to wait for the third one.

             
Stepping out of the water, the creature began to lurch towards me. Before I could react, Odin ran into its legs, bowling it over and onto the rocks. It fell in a heap and struck the large rocks with enough force to make a wet squishing sound. Before it could begin to rise, I stepped forward and drove the heal of my boot into the back of its head. I felt the skull give and crunch beneath my foot. A second kick finished the job. I wasn't sure if it Odin had done enough damage to take it out, but it was better safe than sorry.