The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (35 page)

“Holy crap, look how many of them there are,” Rosenberg whined.

Soames slowly guided us away from the jetty and out of the marina into the deeper waters of the Hudson. I looked back and half expected the zombie crowd to be standing on the jetty and comically shaking their fists at us like we were
the ones that got away
. To my amazement, they didn’t stop. They carried on walking, right to the end of the jetty and simply plopped into the river like lemmings following each other over the side of a cliff face.

Soames turned the boat south once we were roughly in the middle of the river between Jersey City and Manhattan. A warm coastal breeze blew in our faces while the sun reflected off the shimmering water. I saw Ellis and Liberty Islands in the distance. I looked at the back of that great, gray green statue, a monument to liberty and freedom. No more free living in this new world. Now we were being hunted like scared rabbits. Not for the first time, I wondered what the hell had happened to the world.

Several empty boats drifted passed us, eerily bobbing aimlessly with no crew or passengers. Bloated, mutilated corpses floated, slightly submerged in the water, their noses and toes breaking the surface. I looked further down the river towards Battery Park, hoping to see some signs of life aboard any of the vessels up ahead. I felt we were close to our destination. Closer than I ever thought we’d get. Make or break, would dad still be here on the river onboard his boat?

The continuous
put put
sound of the boat engine suddenly cut out and we drifted silently down river.

“What the hell just happened?” Rosenberg shrieked.

“The God damn motor just cut out is what happened,” Soames hissed through clenched teeth.

He tried the ignition key again. The engine whined but didn’t start. The boat began to drift on the tide, taking us to our right and back towards the banks of Jersey City.

“Ah, shit, ah, God damn it,” Soames screeched and thumped the steering wheel.

“Does the motor have a pull start?” Rosenberg asked. “You know, like a secondary starter, maybe.”

“I don’t know,” Soames screamed and stood up. “You can see as well as I can, you stupid fuck!” Soames was really losing it.

“Okay, just calm down, Soames,” I said, gesturing a slowing down motion with my hand. “Rosenberg was only asking a simple question and trying to help.”

“Help?”Soames faked a laugh. “You people have been no help since we had the misfortune of being shackled with one other.”

“Now wait a minute,” Julia protested. “You wanted to tag along with us, we didn’t invite you.”

“Ah, save your whining, you silly bitch,” he spat.

The red mist of anger rose from my gut to my head. “Soames, you’re crossing the line here,” I said, trying to sound like Smith.

“I told you not to take this piece of shit out onto the water. Why did I listen to you people?” he ranted. “Oh, get out of the way,” Soames clambered over the driver’s seat and stepped between us, treading on Rosenberg’s foot. He scrambled towards the motor at the rear of the boat. “I’ll check for your pull chord Rosenberg, then I’ll check nothing is snagging on the propeller while you people sit there on your fat asses.”

Rosenberg shook his head. “Jeez, for a senior doctor, he’s a real asshole,” he whispered.

Julia looked straight ahead, chewing on her lower lip with a look of concealed anger. I felt the same way. I’m not really a fighting man but I would have punched Soames full in his ranting face if we were anywhere but stuck on a small, drifting boat.

I turned in my seat and watched Soames muttering obscenities while searching for a starter chord on the engine. He gave up and instead reverted to his plan B. He crouched down beside the engine and dipped his left arm in the water, presumably searching for the submerged propeller.

“It doesn’t feel like anything is caught on it,” he mumbled to himself, leaning further out of the boat.

I caught sight of something floating in the water to Soames’ left. At first, I thought it was a piece of drifting debris from one of the empty boats. Then I saw a pale white hand rise up from the surface, the fingers curled with blackened nails. A mangled, pneumonia blue face loomed from the murky water with deep gouges around the cheeks and forehead. Matted black hair was plastered to the side of its head. Those milky white eyes fixated on Soames as what was left of its top lip curled up, revealing chipped and broken brown teeth.

The image was so terrifying, I struggled to speak.

“Look out, Soames,” I finally yelped. Julia and Rosenberg turned to see what was happening.

Soames turned his head to look at me then turned back to follow my gaze. In that split second, the zombie grabbed Soames’ submerged left arm with its right and flicked its left hand out of the water and around the back of Soames’ neck.

Soames shrieked as the zombie hauled itself up out of the river and bit into Soames’ left cheek. Blood spurted from the wound in a jet and sprinkled into the water, forming an inky pattern on the surface. His eyeglasses fell from his face and plopped into the river.

Julia gasped and grabbed my hand. Rosenberg recoiled and tumbled backward over the back of the driver’s seat.

Soames struggled to break free of the zombie’s grasp. A mixture of blood and river water ran down his left shoulder. The zombie shook its head while biting into the soft flesh of its victims face. We watched in horror as Soames’ feet bashed about on the boat deck, slipping in the wetness in a futile bid to gain some kind of leverage. He managed to release his head from the snarling teeth and looked back at us with sheer terror in his eyes. Half his cheek was missing, the side of his face was a bloody mess with shredded flaps of skin hanging from the wound. His face turned ashen white, his body went limp and then he was gone. His head disappeared over the side of the boat then his legs pointed skyward for a brief moment as his body slithered into the water.

“Oh, shit, oh, shit,” Rosenberg whimpered.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Julia spluttered. She brushed by me and wretched over the side of the boat.

“Careful Julia,” Rosenberg hissed. “Don’t get too close to the water. Those creatures could be right under the boat.”

This situation was something terrifyingly new, something we hadn’t thought about. We’d seen the dead tumble in the water by the jetty but totally discarded the danger. Of course they would still be moving around under the water the same way as they operated on land. Soames was gone now and with him was our only hand gun. I knew he kept it in a small shoulder holster. We couldn’t even defend ourselves.

Julia wiped her face and sat back down, hugging me close. “What are we going to do, Brett?” she whispered. “Those things could be all around us. It makes no difference where we go. They’re always going to be after us.”

I had to think of something, some plan to get us out of this mess. We were sitting ducks stuck out on the river.

“Try the ignition key again,” I said to Rosenberg.

He leaned over the front seat and tried the key. The engine whined in slower and slower tones until it became nothing more than a low hum.

“I think the engines dead,” Rosenberg stated the obvious and sat back down.

We sat in terrified silence watching the river pass on both sides of the boat, half expecting watery ghouls to emerge from the surface at any moment. We drifted towards the shores of Jersey City at the mercy of the river’s tide.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Smith knew they had to keep going forward. Retreating wasn’t an option. Going backward would lead them into a huge mass of zombies shambling around Jersey City. He drew his pistol and clicked off the safety and heard Eazy doing the same.

“Can those things see in the dark?” Batfish whispered.

“I think they can smell or sense us somehow,” Eazy murmured. “What’s the plan, Smith?”

“Keep going slowly and don’t make a noise. Link arms so we don’t get separated.”

Batfish slipped her arm inside Smith’s and Eazy did the same on her left. She felt glad at least she was in the middle. They trod slowly forward in the darkness, Smith and Eazy feeling the way with their free hands, guiding their way around the stationery vehicles. Batfish felt Spot scrabbling around in her rucksack. The dog seemed to be trying to delve as deep into the bag as possible.

Smith realized he was taking a huge gamble. A member of the living dead might not be more than two feet away from them, lurking in the dark or in one of the vehicles.

“Fuck it,” he sighed and turned the flashlight back on. “We’re at too much of a disadvantage if we can’t see shit.” He swung the light beam in a three-sixty angle to get his bearings and make sure none of the dead were in close proximity.

The light reflected in the glass and shiny paintwork of the vehicles. Moans of the undead echoed around the tunnel walls. Rattles and thumps of metallic objects clanged up ahead.

“Shit! How many of them are there?” Eazy hissed.

“Sounds like too many,” Batfish said.

Smith thought for a moment. He was worried the narrow walkway through the vehicles wasn’t wide enough for them to get passed the approaching mass of zombies. They wouldn’t have time to reload their six shooter pistols with any great ease. He shone his flashlight straight ahead and saw silhouettes of a crowd of numerous undead shuffling their way towards them, threading their way through the vehicles. He made out their pale, greenish faces looming from the blackness. Smith estimated the zombie throng was around twenty yards away.

Eazy felt a hand gripping his bicep and immediately thought Batfish was reaching for his arm for some kind of comfort. He heard a throaty hiss and spun around on his heels, pointing his pistol into the dark space to his left. The hand tried to grab and pull him.

“Yo! Smith, shine the light my way,” he said.

Smith swung the light beam towards Eazy’s voice. A female zombie with a white, puffy face and a curtain of dark matted hair leaned from the open window of a Chrysler Grand Voyager, gripping Eazy’s shoulder with bloody stumps that once had fingers attached. Its mouth gnashed the air, anticipating biting into living flesh.

“Ah, shit,” Eazy shrieked and recoiled from the car, raising his pistol. He fired two shots; one hit the zombie in its open mouth sending blood and dark brain matter splattering the opposite window and interior of the car. The second shot hit the zombie somewhere high in the forehead, sending it sprawling back through the open window.

“Shit, man. That was too close,” Eazy sighed. He quickly reloaded two bullets into the pistol and snapped the barrel back into place.

The noise of the gun shots alerted the crowd of zombies up ahead. The volume level of moaning and wailing increased. Smith swung the flashlight back onto the road ahead. The undead throng came forward with renewed vigor. They sensed human presence and the noise of the gun shots had confirmed their prey was close.

Smith swung the beam to the wall on the left side of the tunnel. He’d noticed some kind of narrow railed service walkway when he’d turned the flashlight back on. He swung the beam back and forth across the wall looking for a service entrance. No exit doors were in close proximity. The moans became feral growls as the zombie swarm drew closer, bouncing off the sides of the vehicles and jostling for space.

Smith contemplated retreating back down the tunnel but would only lead them back into the clutches of the hundreds, if not thousands of zombies marauding around Jersey City. He thought quickly, his mind racing through several possible scenarios.

“Quick, onto the car roofs,” he snapped.

Smith led the way. He jumped onto the trunk of a Lincoln in front of them and ushered the other two to follow. Eazy helped Batfish onto the trunk and followed her onto the car roof.

“Okay, we have to move fast,” Smith said above the din of the zombie’s wails. “Avoid any soft top or convertible roofs and keep to the middle so they can’t grab you. We can do this.”

Eazy and Batfish nodded with nervous expressions fixed on their faces.

Smith set off, bounding across the car roofs. Batfish followed at a slower pace and Eazy moved behind her. Smith swung the flash light beam in front of him, then back towards Batfish and Eazy so they could see where they were jumping.

The zombies quickly surrounded the cars on which they stood. The three of them leaped through grasping hands and gnarled finger nails, clawing at them between jumps. Batfish shrieked, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the other side of the tunnel alive.

“Keep going,” Smith barked. He was starting to pull ahead of the other two.

Eazy let fire a couple of shots at zombies who grabbed his ankle while he and Batfish were on the roof of a low standing sports car. The dead hands battered the car roofs, making a drumming noise that echoed through the tunnel walls.

“Don’t hang around on top of one car for too long,” Smith yelled.

“That’s easy for him to say, the big tall freak,” Eazy said.

Smith seemed to be effortlessly picking his way through the vehicles with enough speed and momentum to easily out run the grasping hands. He stopped and gave any zombie, who half clambered up the vehicle hood, a whack in the face with the toe of his shoe.

Eazy and Batfish carried on through the mass of hands, reaching and snatching at them like beggars in a back street of some poor, God forsaken country. The moans reached a high crescendo as the dead knew their prey was close but just out of reach.

“Come on, you two.” Eazy and Batfish heard Smith’s voice echo from somewhere up ahead.

Smith’s flash light beam became dimmer the further he ventured ahead.

“Smith, don’t go so far ahead,” Eazy yelled above the groans. “Hey, wait up man! We can’t see shit back here.”

Smith stopped on top of a Range Rover and flashed the light back at Eazy and Batfish. They were slowing him up and he briefly considered leaving them where they stood in the dark. A few days ago he probably would’ve simply turned and left them to their fate. But now those two were the only people he definitely knew were still alive and kicking. Brett Wilde and his crew of no-hopers were probably dead or in deep shit by now.