Sergeant
Dalhover asked, “Does anybody here know how to sail?”
Everybody looked at one another for the answer. It was apparent
that none of us did.
“We don’t need a sailboat,” Murphy said. “We just get one of those big motor yachts, turn on the engines
, and away we go.”
“I’m not sure it’s as easy as that,”
Steph said.
“Sure, it is,” Murphy said.
“Do you know how to read a nautical chart?” Steph asked.
“You mean a map?”
“How will you know to avoid the sandbars and reefs? What will you do in rough weather? Do you know how to handle a boat when the waves are twenty feet tall?”
“It’s the Gulf,” Murphy said. “How big could the waves get?”
Dalhover’s crusty laugh silenced everyone. “I used to work oil rigs back before I joined the Army. Let me tell ya’, on the news nowadays, you see helicopters flying out and getting guys off those rigs when a hurricane is coming. But back when I was doing it, helicopters were only for the engineers and managers. Roughnecks like me, we got ferried back and forth in boats.”
It was unusual for
Dalhover to string so many words together, and that had everybody’s attention.
“There was one trip back when a hurricane was coming in… We were on a good
-sized boat, at lot bigger than this tourist boat, maybe a hundred and fifty feet. The waves were already standing pretty tall when we boarded. But the boat looked pretty big to me, so I wasn’t worried. It started to get rough on our way in. Some of those waves were bigger than anything I thought I’d ever see. That boat didn’t seem so big, then. We were riding up the crests and crashing down into the troughs. And every time we did, that steel hull would slap the water so hard, it jarred all of your bones and felt like the keel would shatter. Let me tell ya’, ten or twelve hours of that, and you’ll be wishing you never put your boat out into the Gulf.”
A yacht in the Gulf didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.
“I was out at Carlos ‘n Charlie’s one night for dinner…” Mandi said.
“Up on Lake Travis?”
Steph asked.
Mandi
nodded. “Yeah. There’s a pretty big marina there. It’s only ten or twenty miles from here. There were maybe ten or twelve big houseboats in the marina. Maybe we could get some of those and anchor them out in the lake. That might be safe for us.”
“And comfortable
, too,” Amy said. “With real beds. And maybe showers. That sounds like a good idea.”
Everyone agreed.
“Any other ideas?” Steph said.
“
Balmorhea.” Everyone looked at me after I said it.
Murphy laughed. “Are you still speaking English? ‘Cause I don’t even know what you just said.”
“What’s a Balmorhea?” Steph asked.
“Have any of you guys been out in far west Texas?” I asked.
“I know where you mean,” Dalhover said. “I used to hunt out that way.”
Others shook their heads.
“When you say west Texas, do you mean by El Paso?” Mandi asked.
I pointed west. “About four hundred miles that way, about two hundred miles this side of El Paso, is a dinky little town right in the middle of nowhere called
Balmorhea.”
“Is that near Big Bend?” Amy asked.
“On Highway Ten, just north of it,” I said.
“
Eew.”
I nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I know. It fucking sucks out there. For any of you guys who’ve never taken the drive out to west Texas, there’s nothing out there.
Nothing.
Once you get out of the hill country, the cedars start to thin out, then there’s pretty much just scrubby little bushes. I’m not sure desert is the right word, but it might be. Mostly, it looks like nothing. In the summer it’s hot and dry, and it sucks.”
Steph
smiled. “I’m getting that this place sucks?”
“Yep,” I said. “There’s like fifty or a hundred houses in
Balmorhea. And then for hundreds of miles in every direction, there’s nothing.”
Dalhover
had another idea. “Fort Stockton. Odessa.”
I shook my head. “But not any big cities. And even those towns are a long, long, dry hike away.”
“A dry hike?” Amy asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded again. “I mean, if there are infected in El Paso or Fort Stockton or Midland, there’s no way they could make the walk to
Balmorhea without dying of thirst along the way. I think the place is safe.”
Mandi
grimaced. “It sounds awful.”
“Yeah, it is awful. But did I say it was safe?”
Steph was thinking. “Let’s say we could make it out there, and if it’s as safe as you think, how could we hope to stay alive? You said it’s like a desert out there.”
“Yeah.” I stood up. I was getting excited about the idea. “That’s the thing. There are these big beautiful springs out there, and they feed into this lake. There’s more water there than we’ll ever need. The farmers use it to irrigate lots and lots of fields. What I’m saying is, though the place is ugly, hot, dry and it sucks, it’s safe and we’ll be able to grow whatever we need. And even if every person out there is infected, Murphy and I picked up enough ammunition this morning to kill them all a hundred times over.”
Silence followed. They were all thinking about it.
It was
Dalhover who spoke first. “It’s a long way out there. But it could work.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We could all go out there and stay for a year or two until the infected in the cities have time to kill each other off
, and then we can come back. If we want to, maybe we can move back into Sarah Mansfield’s mansion and live in the lap of luxury. If there’s anything left of it.”
“I don’t think any of us know anything about farming,” Amy said. “How are we going to grow anything out in the desert?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” I said. “First off, we’ve got the flash drives. Those have information on how to farm. Sure, we’ll have a lot of on the job training, and we’ll lose some crops before we get it right. But there are antelope to hunt out there. And there are some big-ass pecan orchards. It could get old, but in a pinch, I’ll bet those orchards produce enough pecans to feed all of us and more. And those trees are already there, getting ready to drop their nuts in a month or two.”
“So, Lake Travis or
Balmorhea. Those are two good suggestions,” Steph said.
“Two?” Murphy feigned offense. “Nobody likes the yacht idea?”
The slow, heavy breathing of those on the first deck made it clear they were still asleep. The absence of
Mandi’s snore reminded me she was on watch. It was early, barely light outside. The rain had stopped falling, but a fog was on the river, thick and damp. Only the occasional tweet of a morning bird or the lap of water against the hull broke the silence.
Sitting up on my cushions, I looked around the deck. Russell was, of course, with
Mandi. Nico was gone, though. His absence concerned me.
Getting up and stretching my muscles
, I shivered and realized October was only a few weeks away. Heck, maybe days away. We still had plenty of days when the heat would add an extra helping of hurt to anything done midday, and make every effort to hammer the life out of us. But cooling nights with the promise of a respite also meant we’d soon need to add long-sleeved shirts and sweatshirts to our shopping list.
Habitually silent, I
crossed the deck and climbed the rusty metal stairs. Coming out by the wheelhouse on the second deck, the fog was thinner and I could see the tops of trees on the bank, though nothing beyond. From above, soft whispers of conversation drifted down.
I climbed the ladder up to the roof, avoiding a rung I knew creaked.
Mandi, Russell, Megan and Nico sat on the roof, cross-legged, facing each other. The diminutive girls each had M16s lying across their thighs, looking just as out of place as they should. Nico, however, had no weapon. But what bothered me more than that was the narrowness of the gap between him and Megan.
“Hey,”
Mandi mouthed across the roof when she spotted me.
I gave her a nod.
The others turned and silently greeted me. Russell, of course, just stared at the misty gray.
I crossed the roof and asked, “Have you talked to
Dalhover about which weapons you two should have?”
Mandi
smiled sweetly and shook her head.
“We need to be armed,” Megan said in her squeaky little voice.
“Yeah,” I said. My assumption, based on nothing but ignorance and speculation, was neither of the small girls could handle their big weapons. “Anything interesting going on?” I asked, sitting down.
Mandi
pointed to the north bank. “We’ve been hearing things over there. But with the fog, we can’t see anything.”
“What kind of things?” I asked, making the instant switch from casual to concerned.
“It sounds like deer to me,” Megan said. “The noise comes and goes.”
Turning and looking over my shoulder, I peered into the thick fog.
“I…I don’t th…think it’s them,” Nico said.
Not sure yet what to think about the noises on the bank, I instead chose to deal with a question more easily investigated.
“Nico, I don’t remember you stuttering.”
“Ah
.” Nico paused for a long time. “It c…comes and g…goes.”
“Did it start at Mr. Mays’ house?” It seemed like a fair question. I really didn’t remember a single stutter during that long afternoon between our escape from Nancy and our arrival at Mr. Mays’ house.
Nico spent a little too long thinking about that answer. “I always st…stuttered a little.”
“Wow.” I don’t know why his stutter was important, but something about it didn’t fit right. “I just don’t remember you stuttering after we escaped from Nancy.”
Nico shrugged. “M…maybe b…because I hadn’t said anyth…thing for t…two or three weeks.”
Grinning, Megan offered an explanation. “Like a bunch of words were built up behind a dam that burst.”
“Yeah.” I agreed, but only as a way to change from a subject that didn’t seem likely to lead to any explanation.
The noise of rattling bushes carried across the water.
“That’s the noise,” Mandi said.
I was already looking at the bank. “What time do you guys get off guard duty?”
“We have another hour,” Mandi said.
Nico’s
stutter was going to remain a mystery, but that noise on the bank needed to be identified. It could be danger. “Can I borrow Nico?” I asked, turning back to the group.
“You don’t need to ask permission.” Megan giggled.
I gave her a smile.
“
Wh…what d…do you need?” Nico asked.
I looked back at the shore. “Now that it’s getting light, do you guys come down off of the roof?”
“Yes,” Megan said. “We try to stay out of sight on the decks during the day. That way the infected won’t see us.”
“We should go down,”
Mandi said. “It is starting to get light out.”
“What d…do you n…need?”
Nico asked again.
“I need you to help me paddle one of the ski boats over to the shore. I want to check out what’s going on over there.”
“It’s deer,” Megan said with exaggerated certainty, no doubt a trick she’d picked up from some long-dead adult in her life.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “I’m just a worrier. Should we go?”
Nico was shaking his head slowly. “I… I…”
Standing up, I slapped
Nico on the back. “It’ll be cool, dude. We’re not getting out of the boat. We’ll just paddle over until we can see the bank through the fog, then we’ll come back.”
“I can go if he doesn’t want to,”
Mandi said.
“You’re on guard duty.”
“I c…can watch f…for her.” Nico nodded vigorously.
“No.” I didn’t have room for negotiation. Although I figured I’d be better off with
Mandi, I did know Steph would get pissed if I left Nico on guard while everybody else was asleep. “C’mon. Let’s get this done.”
Not waiting for any more debate, I headed for the stairs. The others followed.
The ski boat we select
ed was the smallest of those available. It wasn’t that hard to paddle. But with all the noise Nico was making, you’d think it was a fully loaded pontoon boat.
“
Shh.”
Nico
looked blankly at me.
“Don’t make so much noise,” I whispered.
Nico muttered an apology and went back to work.
Jesus,
how was this guy still alive?
Down at the river’s surface, the fog was so thick the riverboat disappeared into the gray behind us before we’d gone twenty feet. Around us there was only fog, the lapping of water against our paddles and the disembodied sounds of something moving on the bank.
Worry etched deep lines on Nico’s forehead. He took to sitting up straight and looking around for danger after every stroke. Of course, all he saw each time was more fog.
“Calm down,” I whispered. “Just take it slow. We’re still a ways from the bank.”
Rather than try to get Nico to put more effort into paddling, I instead continued paddling hard on my side. As a result, the boat angled upstream from where I thought the noise was originating. When we got close enough to shore to see the trees, we could drift back down with the current and give the shore a thorough check.
Everything on the river seemed to involve drifting with the current.
Eventually, dark green outlines took shape out of the fog on our right. I whispered, “Let’s get a little closer to shore now and start drifting.”
“G…good. M…my
arms are getting stiff.”
Pussy
.
I nodded and tried to put on a sympathetic smile.
We were less than a dozen feet from the shore before I was able to see among the trunks of the trees. Being that close, we were in danger of scraping the hull on the limestone riverbed. But with the boat’s motor definitely turned off, I figured any scraping would only produce cosmetic damage. Besides, we had plenty of boats.
I whispered, “Listen, you come over to my side of the boat. Help me look, in case I miss anything.”
The shore held all of Nico’s fears and he made a show of his reluctance to cross the meager width of the boat.
A squall line was coming toward us from upriver, announcing its impending arrival with a faint rumble of fat drops hitting the water. Both
Nico and I instinctively looked toward the sound. So it was startling when I looked back at the shore and saw the bald, white head of a naked man staring at me from behind a thick tree trunk.
Dammit
.
That White was the manifestation of a fear nagging at me since I’d seen the infected chasing along the bank after Murphy and I scavenged Camp Mabry. I was certain he was a scout. And if I didn’t do something about his presence, the fog would soon thin, he’d see the riverboat with us on it, and he’d figure out where we were and lead the rest to us. He had to die.
I turned to Nico to give him instructions, but his fear had backed him to the other side of the boat again.
He was going to be useless.
I laid my rifle on the deck, unsheathed my knife and, to make Nico aware of my intentions, pointed at the White on the bank as I stepped up onto the gunwale.
On a gust of strong north wind, t
he rain hit us.
I knew the gap between the boat and the shore
was well beyond my ability to jump, but I tried anyway. I splashed into the water three or four feet from shore. Making a lot more noise than I’d hoped, my foot found the riverbed in knee deep water. It took two more noisy steps before I was able to land a food on the shore.
The White was already out from behind the tree and coming at me with a mix of aggression and trepidation. Lowering my knife to my hip, I held it with the blade pointing up. Laying a trap, I slumped into a cowering stance.
The White’s misgivings disappeared in a flash. Seeing what its simple brain interpreted as fear, he rushed me.
At the last second, I stepped strongly toward him and shoved my blade up under his rib cage. His momentum drove his weight onto it. He made a sound like a cough and went limp.
Thinking how lucky I was to have put the knife right where I wanted it—into his heart—I turned to the left so the White’s momentum would carry him around, rather than over me. To my surprise, it worked as though I’d practiced the move a thousand times.
The infected man splashed into the shallow water and didn’t move.
Nico screamed, turning my fleeting confidence into fear. Instinctively, I crouched and turned to my right, just in time to see a white blur and a silver blade.
In a desperate move to dodge the blade
, I fell to my left, way off balance. I rolled over the White I’d just killed and into the water as the blade was raised again. A Smart One was trying to slash me. Behind him, a mass of white, grasping hands were doing their best to clamp onto my flesh.
I rolled
further into the water, scraping myself on algae-covered limestone as I went. A White fell in and screamed as she hit the water. She flailed in panic, but I was beyond her reach.
Followed by monkey squawks and yelps, I desperately tore handfuls of water to get myself away from the shore. I hit the boat with my shoulder and reached up to grab a rail that ran along the port side.
On the bank, not ten feet away, reaching hands, raging faces and gnashing teeth fought between their want of my flesh and their fear of the water. I was so close, but far beyond reach.
One White wasn’t reaching. He held the knife at his side while his muscles trembled. His rage was more cerebral than the others. He wasn’t just an angry white chimpanzee who’d lost his prey. He had complex thoughts in his head and real hate in his heart.
I turned myself around and clambered into the boat. Nico didn’t help. He hadn’t moved since I went in. With adrenaline blasting past rational thought processes, I wanted to unleash my anger at him. At the same time, I knew his well-timed scream had kept that Smart One’s blade out of my back.
Nico
had just saved my life.
Nothing is ever black and white.
With my feet on the deck, I raised my pistol and aimed it at the Smart One with the knife.
He glared at me as if daring me to shoot.
And I wanted to, badly. I wanted to teach that fucker a fatal lesson for daring to raise a blade to me.
But the adrenaline was waning and thoughts were starting to click. I paused.
I looked around. Would one bullet cause too much trouble? Could the report of my pistol get lost in the fog before it advertised my location to too many ears?
I knew even as I conceived those thoughts that they were the product of rationalization. With a dozen cannibals screaming for my blood right in front of me, the dissipating fog would be no blanket over my mistake. The riverboat behind me was losing its gray shroud. To fire the weapon would link the sound with the sight of the riverboat, even in the feeble brains of those still standing when the bullet killed the Smart One. No good could come from such a link.
Lowering my weapon, I turned to
Nico and whispered, “We need to go.”