American Revenant: Hometown Exodus (7 page)

“Hey buddy, it’s Rick.  Dean, it’s
me, Rick.  I’ve got you, man.” 

Dean looked at Rick, his eyes
unable to focus for than more than a second or two.  Rick fought hard to keep
his emotions in check.  The sight of Dean’s face, shredded and peeled in
places, bits of glass glittering in his skin put something cold and screaming
into Rick’s heart.  Dean tried to nod, and Rick could see him ready to fade
out. 

Rick slung the rifle across his
back, next to his day-kit and put his right arm under Dean’s left shoulder. 
“Dean, buddy, I need you to walk with me.  We have to walk the two blocks to
the boat, it’s waiting for us.  You’re too damn big for me to carry, so I need
you to walk.”

Dean grunted a weak reply, his head
lolling on his shoulder.  Rick could feel his weight begin to sag against him. 
Rick hated what he was about to do, but couldn’t think of any other way to blow
through the fog of pain that was about to push Dean under.  Rick had Dean’s left
arm around his neck, his right hand pressed against Dean’s ribs, trying to hold
him up. 

Rick moved his hand from Dean’s
side to his right shoulder, positioned his hand how he needed it and whispered
into his young friend’s ear.  “I’m sorry buddy.”

Light flared in Dean’s eyes, just
as brilliant as the bright searing pain in his shoulder.  Rick yanked his
finger out of the bullet wound. 

“You fucker!”

“No time, two blocks to go or we
die.  Move your ass, Dean!”

Both men stumbled forward as
quickly as they could with Rick still supporting Dean.  They had gone a full
block when Rick saw Jack running and pointing behind them.  “Behind you,
dammit, look!”

Rick flicked his eyes over his
shoulder between himself and Dean.  He saw two men crawling from the tipped
wreck of the dump truck.  Both men were bloody and moving slowly, but they
weren’t zombies.  They were alive and aching for revenge. 

Rick noticed a flicker of movement
farther behind the men and their dumped over truck.  Back up the slight rise of
Broadway a massive horde of hungry undead were crossing through the Fifth
Street intersection.  Every one of the one hundred or more zombies that Dean
had rallied to the church with the bell were now making their way down
Broadway.  The pack followed the leaders, the leaders had followed Dean.  A
rampaging truck and cracking gunfire were simply noises to keep them coming.

 Though they were often slow,
lumbering and ungainly, this crowd appeared to move quickly, as if the rearmost
zombies were pushing those in the front of the pack, driving them faster in
pursuit of their prey, to the fulfillment of their all-consuming hunger.

 “Oh, God,” was all Rick could say.

Jack had made it to them by this
time, and helped support Dean on his other side, being careful of the wounded
shoulder.  All three men turned to look back when they reached the dock.  The
gunmen from the truck were still in pursuit, seemingly unaware of the slow but
inexorable mass of zombies behind them.

Jack climbed into the boat, helped
Rick get Dean into his seat.  A couple of the children started to cry at the
sight of Dean’s bloody shoulder and ruined face.  Had he been fully aware, Dean
would have felt like a monster at that moment. 

Gun shots rang out, the two cretins
from the truck within range to do damage.  One of the men fired at the jon-boat
the three guys had just climbed in to.  The other turned his weapon on the
pontoon boats that had moved back in closer to the dock.

“GoGoGO!” Rick screamed at the
other boats.  He pointed toward the street behind the men. One of the gunmen
saw this, looked behind him and began to scream as the horde closed in.  He
turned and began to fire on the mass of undead.  

Both of the gunmen were quickly
overwhelmed, the seething mass of rotting flesh and snapping teeth surrounding
them.  After a few sporadic shots the gunfire ceased.  Then the screaming
began, the sounds coming from the two distant men were what nightmares were
made of, then that too went silent. 

Though the men on the boats could
not hear the feasting creatures, their imaginations supplied them with all the
sound effects they needed to create a vivid and lasting picture of what was
taking place inside the center of that ring of death. 

All boats pushed out to the river,
coming close enough to verify that no one else was injured.  Jan and Gordy were
told that Dean was injured, but not how severely.  They couldn’t do him any
good, out here on the river.

Several people turned to watch the
dock crumble under the weight of hundreds of zombies.  Beyond the dock, people
could see the half sunk hull of the American Queen Steamboat.  The river ship
had been on a cruise to dock in Hannibal when the sickness struck.  No one was
sure what had caused the massive boat to founder and partially sink bow first so
close to its destination. 

14

Heading down river, toward Saverton
Dam, they had been cruising slowly for just over a mile when Jack, in the
rearmost jon-boat, pointed out to Rick that Mike’s pontoon boat was listing to
the left.

In the confusion of gunfire and
zombies Mike’s boat had ended up in fourth position.  Jack gave his boat some
gas, swinging out to the left of Mike’s pontoon, or ‘Party Barge’ as Mike like
to call it.

Jack was careful to stay away from
Mike’s swell as he came around and beside the pontoon boat.  Lynn was still
handling the piloting of the larger craft, and looked at him quizzically.  Jack
motioned to Rick to watch the left pontoon as they continued downriver. 

It didn’t take long to spot the
three bullet holes just below the water line.  Rick motioned to Jack to move in
as close as possible to the other boat.  He waved to Lisa and Mike, bringing
them to the railing. 

“You have bullet holes in the
pontoon over here.”  He had to shout to be heard over the wind, water and
outboard motors. 

Mike shrugged, pointing to his ear,
signifying that he hadn’t heard.  Rick shouted it twice more before Lisa caught
it in the wind.  She gave him a “thumbs-up” that she got the message and Jack
let the jon-boat fall back to its original position.

Rick could see Mike, Lisa and Lynn
talking, then Mike and Lisa began to shift some of their heavier cargo the
right side of the boat.  Once they had moved all they could, husband and wife
leaned against the railing, lifting the bullet holes in the pontoon above the
water line. 

It took the group just over an hour
of slow steady travel to reach their destination.  Group spirits rose as they
approached Saverton Island. 

Calvin, in the lead jon-boat,
guided everyone to a narrow inlet that let into a lagoon.  Those captaining the
boats beached them on a small stretch of sand.  Once all boats were in,
everyone lent a hand to draw them ever further up the shore

The weary group left most of the
supplies on the boats, only unpacking the necessities for one night.  The
children went around with bottles of water, while Lynn and Tam handed out MRE
packs to everyone. 

Dean’s family began a screaming
session while Jack and Rick stood there and let them yell.  It didn’t last
long, and once it was done everyone but Jan thanked them for what they did to
save Dean’s life. 

Jan had several of the men set her
up a small area to use as a clinic.  She used a sturdy folding table they had
brought along as her operating bed.  She had several people stand there holding
flashlights to give her the light she needed to work.  She went immediately to
the bullet wound in his shoulder, and nearly wept in relief when she saw that
the bullet hadn’t nicked bone or artery when it had passed through. 

“Damn lucky Rick didn’t tear anything
open when pulled his dumbass stunt,” she said aloud to no one in particular. 

After giving the shoulder wound all
the proper care she could, she moved to his face.  The left side of his face
bore the worst of the damage.  Deep lacerations, abrasions, embedded shards of
glass, several small patches of skin missing.  “Oh, my beautiful boy,” she
whispered.  Wiping away tears, she focused on the job at hand, as if this man
lying here was just any normal patient of hers, and not her son. 

Seventeen pieces of glass, and over
one hundred stitches later, Jan finished with her son.  Bandages covered the
entire left side of his face, obscuring his eye and part of his mouth.

She stood up, her back aching
horribly, hands cramping from the minute work of the stitching.  She left Lynn
and Anna watching over him, while she stood beside Gordy at the fire.

Gordy stood up, slipped his arm
around his wife, and they stood together staring silently into the flames. 
They needed no words; nothing could be said that would change anything.  Simply
standing together, knowing that someone they loved and trusted most in the
world stood beside them was enough. 

Gordy looked out across the water,
sunlight glinting on small waves, and sent out a thought of hope.  Hope that
each person here would continue to fight for survival, both personal and for
the entire group.  Hope that tomorrow would be a better day, that there would
be moments of laughter among the tears. 

Gordy kissed his wife and pulled
away, walking over to the table where his son lay.  His breath hitched at the
sight of his bruised and bandaged son.  He knew there would be scars, horrible
disfiguring scars, and that if anyone was strong enough to bear them well and
with pride it would be his son. 

“Hey Dad, it isn’t even noon yet. 
Think we should get people up and moving?  I know everybody is beat but some
hard work might do them some good.”

“You’re right, Sam.  Let’s see if
we can get a couple of people to clear out a wide area to make a camp.  Also,
ask a couple of the guys to start looking around the island, for the sake of
security.  They need to watch for good spots to place lookouts. 

“Anna could take some of the
children and go fishing.  Some fresh fish cooked over an open fire would be
great for morale.  Well, at least my morale,” Gordy said, chuckling quietly.

“Sure thing, Dad, we can make it
happen.  By the way, Dad…”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam said, nodding
at his brother resting quietly on the table.

“Yes, he will, Sam.  We are a tough
breed; Dean will pull through just fine.  We all will.”

                Sam nodded at Gordy
and walked away, intent on getting people organized to put their island in
order for an extended stay.  He recruited Jimmy and his brother Calvin to scout
out the island.  He tasked Tam, Lynn, Mike and Lisa with cleaning up a clearing
further into the woods to make a camp.

Anna already had several children
at the lagoon with fishing rods, teaching some of them the best way to bait a
hook with worms she dug up.  Tina Phillips and Ashley Mitchell both took to
fishing like naturals.  Their laughter rang out over the quiet island, bringing
much needed levity to the somber pall that seemed to hang in the air like a
fog.

The day passed quickly, and
everyone but the people on guard duty turned in early.

Everyone woke rested and ready to
put in a hard day’s work.  Time and care was spent on unloading the boats, with
people packing everything up into the woods at the newly cleared camp. 

Rick, Mike and Tam worked together
to get tents up, forming them in a semi-circle around a dug out fire pit.  They
left plenty of distance between the pit and the tents, so no errant spark would
start a fire. 

The water they had brought with
them wouldn’t last long, so Gordy, Jack and Jimmy worked on securing a long
term source of water.  Going through their supplies they realized that they
could take the one fifty-five gallon plastic barrel they had and make a sand
and charcoal filter with it.

They began by puncturing a few
small holes in the bottom of the barrel, then placed the barrel on sturdy
supports so a container to catch filtered water could be slid underneath the
suspended barrel.  They took large scoops of sand from their small stretch of
beach, creating a layer of about three inches inside the bottom of the barrel. 
Several bags of charcoal had made it into the supplies they had brought with
them.  The thick briquettes they smashed up into smaller and smaller pieces
fine as pea gravel, and layered that on top of the sand two inches thick. 
Alternating layers of sand and finely smashed charcoal briquettes filled the
barrel over half way.  After running out of bagged charcoal they took large
blackened chunks left behind in the cold fire pit and broke those up. 

Continuing this to the top they
filled the barrel.  They tested it with dark river water from the lagoon,
pouring buckets of water over the top of their sand and charcoal filter. 
Though it took a while, they soon had a full gallon of nearly perfectly clear
water.  This water they boiled over a fire for ten minutes, to ensure that no
organisms that could make them ill had gotten through the filter.

                Gordy, Jack and Jimmy stood around the
filter, beaming from their accomplishment.  This would allow them to filter
several gallons of water per day for the group. 

                Mike walked up to the men admiring their
handy-work.  “You guys make a water filter system?

                “Yep,” Jimmy said, smiling, “sand and
charcoal, then boil the water for ten minutes.  Good to go for drinking after
that.”

                “Oh hell yeah, that’s bad ass,” Mike said. 
“By the way, if you guys ever want to use this just let me know.”  Mike held up
the Katadyn camp water filtration system he always carried in his pack, and
laughed one of his big bellowing laughs.

                The other three men only stared at him for a
moment, then began laughing along with him.  “You dick, you knew we were making
this thing.  Why didn’t you say something earlier?”