The Fall of Society (Book 2): The Fight of Society (36 page)

            Bear brought the boat inside the bay and closed the bay doors as he lowered the boat onto the deck. “We have to untie this ship from the dock!” he said.

            The small boat made contact with the deck and settled on one side of its underside. Everyone jumped out, except for Anthony and Tom. Anthony tried to rouse his weary brother. “Tom? Can you hear me?” No response, so Anthony slapped him. “Tom!”

            Tom’s eyes popped open. They were slightly milky in color. “Yes, what is it?”

            “You gonna be alright with him, kid?” John asked Anthony.

            “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

            “Let’s go!” Ardent said. “We have to get this ship untied!”

            Ardent and Bear ran toward the middle of the ship, and everyone else followed, leaving Anthony and Tom alone in the old boat.

            Tom was confused as to where he was and what was going on, but he fought to keep his wits. “Tom?” Anthony said.

            “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

            “How you feeling?”

            “I’m good. How are you?”

            “I’m okay. Can you stand up?”

            “Sure thing,” Tom answered and stood up, a little wobbly, but he held his ground.

            Anthony puts his hands out to help Tom, but he was fine on his own.

            “Do you know where you’re at?” Anthony asked.

            Tom looked around and wasn’t sure. “This doesn’t look like a hospital.”

            “No, we’re on a Navy warship that we found.”

            “A warship?” Tom said surprised. “Lucky us then, huh?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Finders, keepers.”

            “Losers, weepers,” Anthony finished.

            “So when are we going to the hospital? I’m not feeling so hot.”

            “Soon, but right now we have to help the group with the ship.”

            “What’s wrong with the ship?”

            “The dead are at the dock we’re tied to and we need to untie the ship before they get onboard,” Anthony explained.

            Tom immediately snapped to life as he grabbed his pistol from his pocket, checked it, and then hopped off the boat. He landed on the deck solid and turned back to Anthony, who was astounded. “Don’t just stand there, little brother, let’s go!”

            “Hell yeah!” he said enthused.

            Anthony grabbed his rifle and jumped out of the defeated boat. Both of them ran to find the others…

            The brothers emerged in the main hangar bay of the ship, which was located behind the command and control decks. Behind them were the hangar bay roll-up doors. They were both open and the insane noise from the horde of the undead hit them like a train wreck. They headed out into the open on the flight deck. Anthony and Tom stopped in their tracks from what they saw—thousands upon thousands of corpses were crammed on the dock in such numbers that there wasn’t any room for them to move—they thrashed and fought their way over each other to get to the edge of the dock to make an attempt to jump onboard.

            Because the Independence was designed as a stealth ship, hundreds bounced off her smooth hull and into the water. There were, however, areas where the dead had a chance at getting on—the two mooring ropes—one at the stern of the vessel and the other at the bow. Anthony and Tom saw John, Lauren, and Maggie fighting the stenches at the rear, but they couldn’t hear their gunfire because the undead horde was that loud—deafening—they just saw their soundless muzzle flashes.

            Tom readied his weapon. “Let’s go!” he yelled and ran to help them.

            Anthony loaded his weapon and followed his brother. When they reached John and the rest, they saw what they were firing at—dozens of the dead, no, hundreds were trying to climb aboard on the thick mooring line holding the ship to the dock. Like an attacking colony of army ants, the dead formed a bridge composed of bodies to get to the ship. Many fell into the water as others climbed over them. Anthony and Tom joined the fight.

            “Is he okay?” John asked Anthony about Tom.

            “Yeah . . . he’s fine, for now.”

            John accepted his answer, but he knew—they all knew better. This is why all of them kept an eye on Tom as they fought the undead. They knew at any given moment, they might have to fire on Tom, or possibly be killed by him.

            Their battle raged on…

            Amidship, Ardent, Bear, Derek, and Milla were battling the corpses on their mooring line. The cannibals ripped and clawed over one another to get across it. Multiple gunshots from the survivors destroyed the heads of many of them, but they kept coming. An endless supply of corpses waited for their turn. This was an unwinnable war and Ardent knew it. “Aim for the line!” he shouted.

            They fired at it, but it was so thick, the bullets had little effect. “This isn’t working, man!” Derek reported.

            “Damnit!” Bear said. “We need to do something,” he told Ardent.

            “Come with me,” Ardent said to him and they left.

            “Hey, where you going?” Milla demanded. “Don’t leave us!”

            Ardent pointed at Milla sternly. “Stay here and hold them off!”

            They two of them rushed inside the ship.

            Derek’s weapon went empty and he reloaded quickly. “We’re fucked!”

            The bridge of the Independence was deserted and without power, an atmosphere of dust suggesting no one had been inside for a long time. A metal squeaking noise from a closed door betrayed an entry as Ardent and Bear came in the dormant command center. There were a few dark consoles and dust-layered command chairs. Nothing gave a hint of power—everything was black. “If this ship is offline we’re S.O.L.,” Bear said.

            “Let’s hit the mains and find out,” Ardent said.

            “Yes, sir.”

            Bear went to a circuit board at the back of the bridge and flipped a series of switches, including a master circuit. Nothing happened. “Come on, baby,” Bear said and he flipped the master circuit again.

            A moment of nothing and faces of desperation, then something happened—one of the console screens flickered—light specks of hope danced across all the screens, and the power flooded everything on the bridge to life. “Yes!” Bear proclaimed with a raised fist.

            “Now we’re talking,” Ardent said and took a seat in the center command chair.

            Bear took the control seat next to him. “You have command, sir.”

            “Thank you, commander,” Ardent answered. “Activate propulsion.”

            “Bringing the engines online,” Bear said and worked the controls on the console before him. Next, Bear grabbed a microphone handset…

            Outside, on the rear flight deck, John’s group was beginning to be overrun. So many of the dead stenches had piled up on each other that they formed a pyramid of bodies to the ship and they began to climb onboard despite the best efforts of the defenders. “They’re getting aboard!” Maggie cried.

            “Who has a grenade?” John asked as he came up empty with his pockets.

            “I don’t have any, there’s some with our supplies down below,” Lauren told him.

            “Shit,” John said and turned to leave. “I’ll be back!”

            John ran, but stopped when he heard Bear’s voice erupt through the ship’s PA system. “Everybody brace for impact!” his voice echoed through the harbor.

            “What impact?” Derek asked on the other end of the ship. “What’s he talking about?”

            John listened and looked down because he heard a buildup of power. He knew what it was and then…

            The engines of the Independence rumbled at their feet and a second later—a wall of white water erupted and stretched a hundred feet into the air at the aft end of the ship—the four powerful water jets were in full-throttle and they propelled the Independence forward at an alarming rate of speed. Fifty feet later and the ship came to an instant stop from the mooring lines; the hard jolt threw everyone to the deck and ejected dozens of the undead off her. They all splashed into the water, but not before bouncing off the ship’s hull and the concrete of the dock walls.

            “Whoa! Shit!” Derek shouted.

            “Hold on!” Bear’s voice echoed through the speakers.

            The ship’s engines roared again, sending the Independence backwards. The mooring lines went taut and stopped the huge ship in an instant. All of the survivors were thrown off their feet again and more corpses were tossed off the ship like ragdolls. On the dock, the bases of the large mooring posts that held the ropes of the ship, cracked from the powerful stress. The ship rocketed forward again and this time the posts on the dock snapped from their anchoring bolts.

            The Independence was free.

            She pulled away from the fetid masses, the group having no trouble shooting off the few dead stragglers that remained on the side of the vessel.

            “Yes!” Anthony shouted.

            They smiled and cheered as they moved away to freedom.

            “I can’t believe we made it,” Maggie said.

            Milla and Derek joined them on the flight deck and they all exchanged high-fives and hugs.

            “I love this ship!” Derek said. “It’s like one big fuckin’ jet ski! That’s awesome, man!”

            As the group rejoiced in their victory, Anthony noticed Tom standing at the edge of the flight deck; he was looking at the water and had his back to them. “Tom?” Anthony called to him. He got no answer.

            Anthony moved closer because he thought his brother didn’t hear him. “Hey, Tom. You okay?” there was still no answer.

            Anthony stepped closer. “Tom?”

            “What?” Tom finally answered to Anthony’s relief.

            Anthony was within five steps of him. “How you feeling?” he asked.

            Tom spun around and, to Anthony’s shock; he was staring at the dead face of his brother, who had just turned that very moment. Anthony stood still and the rest of the group behind him drew their weapons to fire. “No!” Anthony shouted and raised his hand to stop them. They didn’t fire, but they kept their aim steady, especially John. He had Tom’s head in his sights.

            “Tom?” Anthony said with trembling lips. “It’s me, Anthony, your brother.”

            The man that was Tom was gone; all that was left was this dead thing with gray skin, a rabid mouth that spewed blood-infused bile, and wide, demon eyes that had black-red centers; eyes of death that were trained on Anthony.

            “Tom?” Anthony repeated.

            Tom growled at him and it turned into a shriek of intent. The dead thing charged at Anthony.

            “TOM!” Anthony shouted out of fear as he raised his weapon at his brother.

            Tom suddenly stopped.

            He recognized Anthony; some part of his humanity remained, be it very little.

            “Tom, it’s me, your little brother,” Anthony said in tears.

            The man that was Tom struggled with the creature it was now, its eyes darting back and forth in search of reason, but it was all lost now. It didn’t understand what it was and it only knew one thing—the need to feed. The thing looked at Anthony and grinded its incisors, it wanted his flesh. But it also knew this person. The creature wanted to kill so badly, but what was left of Tom couldn’t do it. The thing was too confused to react; its face trembled with indecision and then it felt something in its hand. It looked down at the pistol in its grip. Tom’s face cringed in agony and then it placed the barrel under its chin. “NO!” Anthony shouted.

            The recoil of the handgun jerked the weapon out of Tom’s dead hand and his limp body fell backwards and tumbled off the ship. The spent shell casing hit the deck as Tom’s feet disappeared over the edge.

            The pistol bounced on the deck and settled as it clattered to a stop.

            By the time Anthony got there, all that was left was a dissipating splash in the water.

            Tom was gone.

            Anthony dropped to his knees and wept. He picked up Tom’s gun; it was all he had left of his brother. Lauren put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

            The Independence left over 50,000 undead on the dock, crammed in front of the warehouse. At about half a mile away, the ship turned and slowed down as she lined up with the island.

            On the bridge, “Engines are at 100 percent, sir, and the weapons systems are online,” Bear said looking at his console. “Weapons have over 80 percent ammunition supply.”

            “You may indulge yourself, Commander, but show a little restraint,” Ardent said.

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Give me a minute to get out to the flight deck,” Ardent told him with a grin. “I wanna see the show.”

            “Of course, sir,” Bear said with a smile.

            Ardent left and Bear readied the weapons systems; heavy firepower was at his fingertips. “Activating R2-D2,” he said to himself. “I love the Navy.”

            Ardent appeared on the flight deck. He saw Anthony on his knees with the group gathered around him, but he didn’t see Tom. He walked over and John saw him first. “Tom?” Ardent asked.

            John shook his head and he knew that Tom was gone. Ardent made his way to Anthony. “I’m sorry, son. Your brother was a good man.”

            “Thanks.”

            Bear’s voice came through the ship’s speakers. “Attention on deck, attention on deck, watch this . . .”

            On the roof of the main hangar, an automated Gatling gun system came to life, known as the Sea Whiz, it consisted of six rotating barrels that fired 20 mm rounds at fifty or more a second. Behind the gun was a white barrel-shaped radome that housed the weapon’s targeting radar. It actually looked like R2-D2, but this was not a loveable droid. The weapon moved in computer-controlled precision as the swivel base brought the gun around toward the dock. The barrels took aim, spun at a high rate of speed, and then fired—with a sound of a chainsaw on steroids, the weapon spat a continuous volley toward the warehouse—the almost solid stream of projectiles hit the undead horde at one end and moved along the entire dock. The raging corpses blew apart, from the edge of the dock to the warehouse; the large bullets turned flesh into red mist and chunks.