The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation (8 page)

“Well, I can’t
argue with that,” Daniels laughed.

They headed out the way
they had come earlier, but Daniels was sure to take the right to
avoid the main concourse. Once down the set of stairs, Daniels peered
through the steel door window leading into the Station Master’s
office. The office was empty and beyond the desk, he could see the
Exit sign that would lead them down into the Biltmore Room. He looked
back at their anxious faces, “I don’t know what to expect after
we go through this door, so be ready. Cecilia, you’ve got a gun
now. Remember, they’re zombies. That means they’re already dead.
Don’t be afraid to use it. Trust me, you’ll be doing them a
favor.” Daniels looked around at the rest of the group, “Is
everyone else locked and loaded?” Everyone was ready except for
Kaden. He stood there with empty hands, “What about me?”

Daniels knelt down
beside him, “Listen, little man. You stay close to me. There’s a
good chance we will run into something in there, and I don’t want
to be looking for you. As soon as we find more weapons, we’ll give
you one. For now, you’re my shadow. Are you ready? Here we go.”

Daniels burst through
the door pulling a lanyard on Kaden’s MOLLE vest keeping him close,
and supporting the M4 with his free hand. A quick scan of the room
revealed two zombies by the stairwell they were heading toward. The
charging group alerted the two zombies, but Daniels’ expedited room
entrance didn’t give them enough time to even turn before being
struck down with the high velocity 5.56 rounds. The zombies fell to
the floor as Daniels dragged Kaden along. Daniels knew the sound of
the rifle had taken away any element of surprise as they entered into
the small stairwell. He raced down the stairs, and paused at the
bottom, as it opened into a larger room with a single exit on the far
side. Straight ahead of him was a newsstand.

For years, an elderly
New York native named Earl stood inside the stand. Day after day,
year after year, trying to provide for his family. Now, all that was
gone and what stood before Daniels was nothing but a moaning creature
that Earl had become. Thrashing his arms at hanging magazines and
candy, trapped inside, the newsstand had become his coffin. He’d
rot there until nothing was left of him. Daniels scanned the room
around the newsstand and counted five dead. To his surprise, the
shots from the Station Master’s Office had not given away their
position. Without speaking, Daniels used a series of distinct hand
gestures to lay out the plan. It was interpreted by Bunker as,
“Cooper, you take out the two on the right. Bunker, you take out
the one in the middle, and I’ll shoot the two on the left.”

He added an additional
gesture to the end which Bunker took as, “Destiny, please, please,
keep your mouth shut.” Daniels raised his M4 and repeated a series
of head nods while he mouthed, “One, two, three, go.”

He moved out of the
stairway landing, took two steps left, and paused until Cooper and
Bunker were clear of each other. Three shots rang out in concert. Two
head shots and a chest. Daniels fired a second round knocking down
another zombie. Bunker took his target out with a single round, but
Cooper was still firing as the two zombies charged at him.

“Shoot them in the
head!” Bunker screamed.

Cooper fired and
knocked down one of the advancing zombies with a headshot. The second
zombie was already on top of him, close enough for Bunker to strike
him in the temple with the butt of the M4.

Bunker spun the rifle
around and fired a single round into his forehead.

“Listen, rookie.
These things aren’t really dead until you destroy the brain. And
the fights not over until all of those things are dea....”

Two loud cracks stopped
Bunker in mid-sentence. A zombie collapsed on the floor landing on
his ankle.

Daniels lowered his M4,
“What were you saying, Bunker?”

He moved his ankle away
from the zombie’s head, “I guess the fight wasn’t over.”

Daniels gave the zombie
a light kick on the arm, checking to see if it was dead, “He was
behind the newsstand. I never saw him.”

“Is everyone all
right?” Daniels asked.

The kids were a little
shaken up, but other than that, everyone appeared to be fine.

“Where are we going
next, Destiny?”

Destiny pointed
straight ahead, “Honey, we almost there. Right down through that
lobby, past Central Watch, and we’ll be at the 45th Street
Passage.”

“Okay, what are we
waiting for?” Cooper said as he took off running.

“Cooper, stop!”
Daniels screamed.

The storm that had been
threatening us for the last two hours was almost on top of us now.
Lightning struck a wooded area in the distance. It was time to get
moving again. There were seven of us, and the Humvee sat four
comfortably. That meant two in Sophie’s Jeep and five people plus
the dog in the Hummer. It was going to be tight, something we’d
have to take into consideration at some point. For now, it was time
to head south on Interstate 87. We’d travel on it a few miles and
then cut over to Route 9 to get us to Port Kent. Once there, we could
gas up both vehicles at the Lake Champlain ferry docks and grab more
supplies at the gift shop. I’d been there a few times before and
knew they had a supply of beach food. This late in the season, I
hoped there’d be some left.

Chevy and I climbed in
the Humvee’s front seats while Mom, Sidara, Sage, Sophie and
Charger squeezed into the back. We’d have to find another vehicle
soon.

My senses peaked as I
watched Cowboy and Luther head toward Sophie’s Jeep, wondering if
it was a good idea to let them hang out again. I didn’t have time
to worry about it now, we needed to get going. Besides, it was not
more than a twenty-minute drive to the ferry docks. Cowboy pulled up
next to the Humvee and gave me a couple of honks, “I’ll follow
you, hoss.”

Chevy gave him the okay
sign, and we were on our way. I wondered if this would be the last
time I’d ever get to see my home.

Plattsburgh continued
to get smaller in my side-view mirror until it disappeared entirely.
I felt a little pain in my heart. I guess deep down I knew I’d
never return.

Chevy was in the
passenger seat laughing and joking with the girls. It was good to be
with my friend again, even if it had only been a couple of hours.

Chevy stopped fooling
around and scanned the horizon. “What are you staring at?” I
asked.

“I’m wondering
where all the cars are? I mean on any given day, you can’t drive a
mile without seeing someone else.”

It was interesting he
picked up on that. I was driving and hadn’t noticed, “I guess as
people got sick they drove home to die. No one got sick on the
highway, and anyone who did had the sense to pull over off the
roadway first. That would explain the sporadic cars parked along the
median.”

Sophie leaned forward
from the back seat to explain why, “Part of the reason is they
closed the borders. People coming from Canada were stopped, and they
refused to let them through the border. That’s where Bob and I got
attacked. The stupid fool stopped because he wanted a dead Border
Agent’s rifle.”

Sophie ran her hand
along the barrel of the M4 that was resting against her seat, “While
he was teaching me to shoot this very same rifle, a dead woman
attacked us, and killed him. All he ever tried to do was help people,
and I left him buried in a shallow grave behind a vet clinic.”

Tears rolled from
Sophie’s eyes. The pain inside of her was too much to bare, and she
had to let it out. I reached back and grabbed her hand, “Is that
the same rifle you saved us with?”

Sophie nodded her head
and squeaked out a, “Yes.”

My mom leaned over and
wrapped her arms around her, “Maybe he knew.”

Sophie looked up,
confused about Mom’s comment.

“Sophie, maybe Bob
knew the two of you needed that rifle for a greater reason. In a way,
he may have sacrificed himself to save all of us. Bob put that rifle
in your hands, and you did just that. Maybe he knew we’d help you
save the world. We’ll do it for Bob’s sacrifice.”

Sophie dried her eyes
while Charger bombarded her with kisses. Not expecting the sloppy
tongue, she pulled away and laughed.

“I guess she knew you
were upset.” Chevy laughed.

Sophie gave Charger a
deep tissue rub behind her ears, “I love you too, girl.”

Everyone laughed as
Charger crawled into the seat dropping her seventy-pound frame on
Sophie’s bladder, “How much further? I suddenly have to pee.”

“About two minutes,”
I said over my shoulder, “we’re just about there. This is where
Chevy and I fish for bass in the summer. This is the part of the lake
that turns into a swamp. The fish love it.”

“Hey, Ty. Remember
that time you snagged that huge beaver. That thing was scary as hell.
It was right off that point over there.” Chevy said, pointing out
the window.

“Yeah, thanks for
reminding me. I lost a seven dollar lure on that beaver.”

We all chuckled as we
crossed the train tracks leading to the ferry entrance.

We crested the final
hill as the ferry dock came into sight. I thought coming here would
be a good idea. The advantages were, the ferry dock had food, gas,
and the majority of the residents who stayed there in the summer left
by September.

It was October 14th,
and they’d be long gone by now. The one potential problem I could
see, the ferry dock was at the bottom of a quarter mile hill. The
hill was the only way in or out of the ferry docks. If we got trapped
down there, we’d have nowhere to run. We’d have to put up a hell
of a fight or we’d die.

It didn’t matter now,
this Humvee was almost out of diesel There was no place as safe as
this for miles. We’d have to chance it. I checked my side mirror. I
was happy to see Cowboy was still behind us.

If he had any thoughts
about ditching us, this would have been his best chance. His vehicle
was loaded up with all the supplies, and we’d never be able to give
pursuit. The Jeep was too fast, our Humvee would never catch it, plus
he knew we were low on fuel.

I reached out the
window and gave him a, “Follow me,” wave. We took the hill down
to the docks slow and steady. Chevy and I scanned in every direction
looking for anything dangerous, or to paraphrase, zombies.

Port Kent offered ferry
service for over a hundred years from N.Y. to Vermont during the
summer months. Even though it was an hour trip one-way, it was a
popular summer destination for walkers and bicyclists. The advantage
being, it docked right in the city of Burlington. Giving New York
residents the opportunity to bike the many Green Mountain trails or
even enjoy a walk on its famous Church Street Market Place without
having to ride in a car for an hour.

The ferry dock was also
home to a small marina, where local Port Kentians could dock their
vessels. Being this late in October, only two boats remained, an
older green cabin cruiser and a fancy looking white Baja speedboat
with a red stripe. In another month, and with no one to pull them
out, they’d succumb to the ice, and then sink to the bottom during
the spring thaw.

“Where’s the gas
tank?” Chevy asked.

“It’s behind the
concession building. There’re two tanks, one’s diesel, and the
other is regular gas. We’re gonna need both, so have Luther help
you grab both hoses.”

“You got it,
Two-gun,” he said while giving me a Gomer Pyle salute.

I crawled out of the
Humvee and walked over to Cowboy and the girls. “Why don’t you
girls check out the gift shop and cafeteria while Cowboy and I check
out the ferry. But be careful. There could be zombies in there.”

Mom and Sophie had the
M4s. Sage took the HK-416 that she had first used back in the metal
building at the fairgrounds. Sidara decided against a rifle and put
all of her faith in that .44 caliber hand cannon she kept on her hip
now. It could stop a rhino, but was inaccurate as hell after fifteen
yards.

During the summer
months, the ferries run twenty-four hours a day. The New York boat
crew must have docked the boat here and tied it up when everyone
started getting sick.

Cowboy removed his hat,
eyeing the wheelhouse on top of the ferry, “So, are you thinking of
boating over to Vermont, hoss?”

“No,” I said,
stepping on the ferry, “I’m thinking of taking this to New York
City.”

Cowboy wiped his brow
with his sleeve and replaced his Stetson. He looked intrigued.

The storm missed us,
and the clouds had given way to an intense fall sun. I hadn’t
realized I was sweating. It had to be over eighty degrees now.

“Can you take a boat
all the way from here to New York City?” Cowboy asked.

“Sure you can. I
remember my dad talking about some friends who had driven a boat from
Plattsburgh to New York a few years ago. He said it took them
twenty-four hours.”

“Sounds like a good
plan, hoss, but why not just drive? It will take a quarter of the
time.”

“Easy answer, Cowboy.
No zombies.”

“I guess you got a
point. Do you know how to drive one of these things?”

“Sure I do,” I
said. “How hard can it be, it’s a boat? We’ve got a Yamaha
LX2000 at home. I take that out all the time.”

We headed up to the
wheelhouse and broke in using the tomahawk to smash out a port
window. I went to work on the ferry’s control panel.

Thirty minutes later,
Cowboy and I had flicked every switch and turned every knob on the
ferry. No matter what we did, we could not get the thing to turn
over.

“You know, Ty. I used
to watch a show where all these guys made a living catching crab in
the Bering Straight. On one episode, their boat was dead in the
water. The Captain and the Engineer were in the engine room trying to
fix the problem, it looked like they might have started it from down
there, and it wasn’t as easy as turning a key. There was a whole
process to it. I think your idea may not work.”