(Alaskan Undead Apocalypse 05) Unwilling Read online

  Now, when their little slice of the world had once again become one of peace and relative security, life had decided to throw another wrench into the works. This time, though, Neil was inclined to let the world and its problems move on without them.

  Neil was quiet for several seconds after handing the phone back to Danny who was still standing there expectantly. Before he spoke, Mia emerged from the cabin, looking slightly disheveled but refreshed from her nap. “What’s going on? Who was on the phone?”

  Emma, without looking away from Neil, answered, “Chicago. Neil talked to them. Sounds like they need a favor.”

  Shrugging her shoulders and gesturing with her hands, Mia burst, “A favor? What does that mean? When are they gonna get us outta here anyway? How long do we have to wait?”

  The younger woman, her rust-colored hair cut short in a style that more resembled a boy haircut, perched her hands on her hips and spread her arms like a pair of wings. “Well?”

  Neil looked up at the sky and said with the same breath that produced an accompanying sigh, “They sent some people to Anchorage and now they lost contact with them.”

  “And?” It was Emma this time, her voice full of suspicion and caution.

  “They need us to find ‘em and get ‘em out.” Neil’s answer sounded like a doubtful apology for an offense he didn’t commit. Almost of its own accord, Neil’s head shook from side to side as he finished speaking.

  Conceding defeat before she bothered to put up a fight, Emma nodded reluctantly and asked, “Should I call back Serenity?”

  Neil didn’t move; he didn’t seem to blink as he stared at nothing, threatening to bore a hole into the void.

  Emma chewed her bottom lip and shot a crooked look in Neil’s direction, hoping to catch his attention long enough to draw him back. She found him doing that on occasion lately, usually when it was just the two of them. It was as if he was just taking a break, perhaps distracted by a memory. Maybe he was thinking about Meghan, a memory triggered by some minute detail. Regardless, when he drifted off like that, she normally enjoyed the peace and quiet along with him.

  Unable to wait this time, she touched his arm and, when he looked over at her, said, “I heard most of it. I think it was a shitty plan to send them and just as shitty to ask us to bail ‘em out; if you want my two cents worth. They should be thankful that you’re the one they talked to. I woulda hung up…

  “I guess we should get ready, huh?” She was already rising to her feet as she spoke, nearly tipping Neil back out of the hammock again.

  After a brief struggle with his swinging throne, Neil twisted his face into a doubtful pucker and said, “I think I’m more interested in talking about what’s for dinner.”

  Danny cheerfully announced, “Halibut and potatoes.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Neil?!” demanded Emma. “What the hell is going on? Are we going to Anchorage?”

  Slowly, his head began to shake from right to left as he said, “No. Uhhh. I don’t know, Emma. I think I would like to think about it for a bit.”

  Emma was caught in that awkward position between sitting and standing as she processed Neil’s response. “Huh?”

  “I don’t think I’m particularly interested in a trip to Anchorage.” To Danny, Neil asked, “Halibut, huh? Who’s cookin’?”

  Looking somewhat confused but in an amused manner, Danny answered, “I thought you were?”

  “Oh yeah. I think I’m gonna try something new tonight. I guess I should get on that.”

  “Neil, damnit! You can’t just act like this! You’re acting like me and that’s my job! You’re the one who is supposed to care and shit like that. Being cold and heartless is my shtick!”

  Both finally cracked a smile at one another. Neil said, “I don’t know, Emma. Maybe you’re starting to rub off on me, but I don’t think this is a problem we need to solve.”

  Danny looked over at Mia, who was nodding in agreement as well. He couldn’t understand why he was so confused by all of their responses to this distress call but decided to keep his mouth shut and trust.

  Chapter 11

  Leaning across the back of the seat and threatening to climb into Sergeant Daniels’ lap at any moment, Cate asked, “Is there a way around?”

  Sergeant Daniels, ignoring Cate’s growing anxiety, touched his ear and said, “Roger that.” Over his shoulder to the three well-armed but terrified civilians, he said, “We need to get moving.”

  Veronica nodded enthusiastically, agreeing, “Yeah. Get him back in here and let’s get outta here.” She looked like she was about ready to jump out of her skin.

  “No, I mean we need to get moving.” Finishing, he opened the passenger side door on the FedEx delivery truck. “Now!”

  He was gone before any of them could protest. Instead, Cate looked at Alonzo and Veronica who each looked to the other, their eyes full of fear and hesitation.

  At first, none of them moved. Cate tried to force her legs to work but she seemed powerless to motivate them. She breathed deeply, clenched her eyes shut until they began to tear, and tried to stand but the mere thought of leaving the truck made her head swim slightly, a sensation resembling the vertigo of peering over the edge standing at great height.

  It required the sergeant pounding on the outside of the van for any of them to move at all and then it was simply a frightened jump from each. Nauseous and weak-kneed, Cate forced herself up and around the seat from which the sergeant had exited.

  Standing outside, Cate felt frighteningly exposed. Bendtner was out of view, lost in an expansive field of abandoned cars that seemed to float, like a forgotten armada, on a calm sea. Cate maneuvered her rifle into her hand to ready it to fire, an action that looked neither well practiced nor natural to her. Finally, she was ready to fight.

  Alonzo was the next to exit. He emerged with his rifle already in his hands, which was reassuring to Sergeant Daniels who was hearing a disturbing report in his ear. The message, silent to Cate and Alonzo, was, “We’ve got company.”

  “Roger that.” He lowered himself into a fighting stance that allowed him to see any moving shadows below many of the vehicles around them.

  Cate asked, her hands already shaking, “What’ssss wrong?” The question chattered her teeth as much as the answer she was expecting.

  “We’re not alone.”

  Cate knew that was what he was going to say but the words still caught her off guard. Back in Chicago, they all but assured her that this would be a largely routine mission. Land safely, acquire a vehicle, take a quick trip to Providence, and back to the jet in less than twenty-four hours. She was starting to think that the only thing they got right about their planning was the twenty-four-hour part; as in, they would likely only survive twenty-four hours.

  That was when she saw the pair of stumbling wretches, drifting through the sea of stalled cars. With the same color and apparently similar anima as greying hulks of driftwood, the walking corpses did seem to follow a current that was directed toward Cate and the others.

  To herself, Cate whispered, “They said it wasn’t going to be like this.” Her hands were sweaty against her rifle’s frame, but she raised it to her shoulder just the same.

  Sergeant Daniels’ voice, deep and resonating, floated to her, “Calmly. Loosen your grip. You’re not driving on ice. Feel the gun’s weight but don’t fight it.”

  Cate nodded and allowed the breath she had been holding to escape. She opened her eye and peered down the length of the gun’s barrel, pointing it at the approaching wraiths who seemed to be moving slightly faster and with more purpose. The circuitous route they were forced to take between the many stalled cars helped to slow their pace significantly.

  “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

  She did as she was told, steadying the rifle in her hands. As she focused on each individual task, she found her fear being tethered and controlled. It wasn’t gone, but it found its way into the background for the moment. She was able to clearly sight down the barrel, using the enhanced iron sights to aim at her target.

  She needn’t bother though. As she brought her rifle to bear, two nearly silent pings sliced the air and both demons collapsed with large bullet holes in the sides of their heads. It hadn’t been Daniels, who was still standing behind her. It must have been Bendtner, firing from somewhere out of sight.

  Veronica and Alonzo were on the street by then, awaiting their next move. Looking at them, Cate asked the sergeant, “We ready to go?”

  Smiling, Sergeant Daniels answered, “After you,” and pointed toward the east. “We should be able to follow Northern Lights…that’s the road we’re on…for quite a while. We should be able to find another vehicle we can commandeer on the other side of this pileup. By the way, watch what you shoot, Tex. Bendtner’s out in front of you.”

  “Tex? Who you callin’ Tex?”

  Chapter 12

  Serenity, in the simplest terms, was a fishing boat. More specifically, she was William’s luxury fishing vessel, his own private motor yacht…of sorts. She was designed beautifully and carefully, hints of love running through her from stem to stern. William had made many significant modifications and upgrades to the interior over the years, until Serenity was more home to William than fishing boat. Bar, flat-screen television, both comfortable and practical furnishings; Serenity had everything.

  Skipping across the waves effortlessly, she looked like a porpoise at play. With the sun shining and not a cloud in the sky or an affronting breeze stirring, Serenity was living up to her name in grand fashion.

  William, a man as big as his name, stood at Serenity
’s helm and guided the agile craft like Cunning Odysseus. He could be mistaken for a powerful running back or an imposing Secret Service agent but he was neither. William was a fisherman, a runner of the deep blue depths, a tracker of salmon and halibut. He was drawn to his vocation, for which he seemed to possess an uncanny knowledge and ability. Put simply, William was born to fish the way others were born to teach, or fight, or program computers.

  He guided his maritime magic carpet into her berth next to her older, slightly bigger sister, Nostromo, who awaited William’s and Serenity’s return like a spurned child left out of an exciting outing. While Nostromo was an older model of water craft, William had purchased her more recently than his jewel Serenity and had not developed the same intense affection for her yet. Still, William knew that he needed to take his other girl out in the near future or face her resentment, something that he might regret if she chose to show it while he was out at sea.

  As they slowed into the slip alongside the short but sturdy pier, Jerry, a smaller-framed but muscular young man just outside of his teen years, hopped out of the rear of Serenity and secured her with a heavy line.

  Giving the thumbs up, Jerry was almost caught totally unprepared by a leaping lady of well under ten, whose happy blonde head and the rest of her flew out of the boat and into Jerry’s arms just as they raised to catch her. The excited child screeched with joy as she nailed her landing with all the agility and ability of an Olympic gymnast…in her mind.

  Sharing an ecstatic hug with Jerry, the little girl whose name was Jules, announced, “I gotta go tell them! I can’t wait!”

  High-fiving the girl, Jerry smiled and said, “Get at it then, girl. Tell ‘em you know how to get the job done.”

  “…and I know how to get the job done,” she repeated. With that, Jules was gone, running toward the cabin shouting, “Dannnnnnnyyyyyyy! Neeiiilllllllll! Emmmmmmmmaaaaaa! Guess what? Guess what? I know how to get the job done!”

  Jerry was then joined on the dock by Abdul, whose skin was as dark and beautiful as an eclipse, and Danielle whose burnt umber complexion resembled an autumn sunset. Standing next to the two of them, Jerry’s possible relation to Casper and his friendly ghost family was a serious consideration. They made quite the trio. A white guy, an African man, and an Alaska Native woman stand on a pier…sounds like the beginning of a joke that needs to be whispered for fear of insulting someone’s sensibilities. This was no joke though.

  The beautiful Native woman said, “I wonder where everyone is?”

  She was right. Usually someone stood on or near the dock, both as a precaution against unexpected or unwelcome visitors but also to assist as needed. They had spent two complete seasons and most of a third without seeing another living soul anywhere on their travels, so it can be excused if security wasn’t their top priority in this remote location. Since the excursion had been about slaying fish and not gathering, as Neil called it, the excitement about their return and seeing what was carried back with them was somewhat muted.

  Jerry hoped, “Maybe they got something special planned for dinner that requires all of their attention.”

  “Mmmmm. Maybe it’s seafood fettuccine Alfredo,” gushed Danielle, half remembering and half hoping. “Mmmmmm, with fresh caught seafood.”

  “Yeah and I’m the King of Siam,” quipped Jerry. “Hey, aren’t you a diabetic?”

  “Oh. Are you the diabetic police now? And what does that mean, anyway? Where the fuck is Siam? If it’s zombie-free, then I’m coming with you, your worshipfulness.”

  Jerry couldn’t help but smile at the Star Wars reference. Danielle had led an exceptionally sheltered life before the apocalypse and had never been introduced to Star Wars formally. She had caught glimpses of Jar Jar Binks and an irritating little kid on occasion, but she did not sit through a full movie until Jerry forced her to watch with him. And another fan was born.

  She ripped lines from the films and peppered her speech with them regularly, which endeared her to Jerry all the more. He was already ass-over-tit falling for her anyway. Her embracing Star Wars just helped to seal the deal for him; no small task following the metaphysical jolt he received shortly before meeting Danielle.

  He and his friends Neil and Emma had discovered the mutilated body of Claire, the only other woman who had given him the time of day or interested him enough to capture his attention for more than a few fleeting moments. She had been tortured and killed by a homicidal psychopath and not by the undead. She had been murdered for nothing more than sport and amusement.

  Jerry required some time to recover from that senseless tragedy, but Danielle slowly persuaded his affections back to the surface through playful and persistent attention over a several month stretch. To him, Danielle possessed a tomboy-like appeal rolled into the beautifully polished caramel-colored frame of a swimsuit model. How could he possibly be so lucky? He chalked it up to being among a shrinking population of available bachelors. Apparently, the apocalypse wasn’t all bad news.

  “Jerry? Can you help me here?” William struggled to keep the two heavy, insulated coolers stacked in his massive arms from sliding out of his grip.

  “Sure.” Jerry grabbed the top one and nearly tipped over as the single cooler’s weight threatened to upend him. “Jesus, William. How the hell were you carrying both of them in the first place?”

  Smiling, William answered, “It’s all about leverage and balance, my friend.”

  “It helps when you’re big enough to scare off a grizzly too. I don’t mean to sound like a weakling but.… Geez! I think my arms are two inches longer.”

  Prepared for the load this time, Jerry hefted the large blue cooler and started to walk up the slick, wooden dock, huffing and puffing as he did.

  “Hold on,” suggested Mason, who was only then climbing off of Serenity. A man no younger than Jerry, but a lifetime of struggle separated Mason from Jerry’s experience, that was already punishing in many ways before the dead began to walk. Whereas Jerry was hard-edged and sometimes jaded, Mason was hopeful, even in this post-apocalyptic nightmare, and, on a regular basis, simply afraid.

  In fact, Mason was the last to exit Serenity because he was finishing many of his assigned tasks. Still harboring visions of his future and its possibilities, Mason had asked William to teach him how to be a mariner like he was. He wanted to learn…to complete an apprenticeship of sorts, as if he was embarking upon a career. He was willing to work hard, though his pace was slow to start as he grew his skills and knowledge of the trade.

  It was a quiet agreement between the two men, but one that both of them readily embraced. William was thankful for the help and Mason was excited to feel that he might be able to contribute.

  Mason wasn’t a fighter like Neil, Jerry, or Emma, not yet anyway; so this was how he could do his part for the others. It was important to him to feel like he had something to offer. It was also preferred to having to rely upon everyone else for all of your needs. It was a new feeling for him to want to have a role aside from being a passenger…a spectator. The world that he left behind was hardly his. Parents, teachers, coaches, and friends had always led him when he was willing to follow, but they had also carried him far more than he should have been. It required all that he knew to have been taken from him forcefully and brutally before he realized that if he cared about anything, he would have to earn keeping it. And so, he was becoming a sailor.

  Still wearing his life jacket, he hopped down onto the boards and ran to Jerry, “Here. Let me help.”

  Jerry set the cooler down and straightened stiffly, running his hand down his back as if he were an old man. He nodded agreeably and motioned for Mason to join him. Hanging his orange life jacket on a nail driven into a tall post, Mason hurried to Jerry to help do some of the heavy lifting.

  Chapter 13

  That zombies didn’t move very quickly was widely known and accepted. The exception being immediately after an infected body succumbed to death and then reanimated. Those first few hours and days were frantic and horrible, especially for the living. The undead hunted and pursued relentlessly, feeling neither fatigue nor mercy. As the body continued through the early stages of decay, its muscles gradually lost their elasticity, limiting both movement and balance. Through tissue desiccation and atrophy, zombies eventually became the predictable, slow, and still indefatigable creatures that haunted much of North America and parts of Asia.