“That’s close enough,” Griz said, sounding nervous.
I didn’t blame him. I was practically frozen, and it wasn’t just because of the cold air. My hands trembled, and I gripped my rifle to me like it was my lifeline.
Kurt cranked on the CD player, and the previous owner’s choice in music—Motor Boat City’s “Pontoon”—blasted through the speakers. If the smells of deer organs and visuals of uninfected humans weren’t enough to snag their attention, they couldn’t ignore the noise. We hadn’t had time to rig up louder speakers, but the stock speakers seemed to be doing the trick. Dozens of zeds tumbled into the water, pushed in by zeds behind them.
“Think we got their attention?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah,” Clutch said. “We don’t want them to keep falling in the water.”
Kurt brought the boat closer to the western bank and turned the boat toward the south and cut the engine, letting the current do the work. As we drifted past the Aurora, the deck was empty and I could see no signs of inhabitants, though I knew everyone was watching from the galley.
Back on the towboat, we had debated for less than two minutes whether to lead the herd south or north. Leading them north seemed counterproductive. Leading them south meant that we had to lead them past the Aurora, but it was the direction they seemed naturally inclined to head.
The plan was to lead the herds far enough away—at least twenty miles—from Camp Fox and then hide in a cove until they had all continued in their migration. We had no map of the river, so it would be all guesswork, and we were counting on Kurt’s experience to help navigate the river. We’d loaded up enough fuel to run for at least three days straight, but the plan was that we wouldn’t need much.
We used paddles to keep the boat close—but not too close—to the western bank, so that the zeds from the east would work their way across the bridge to the west. Without the engine, the music blared even louder. Wes had rigged up a second battery so we wouldn’t drain the primary one.
Jase stood up and shaded his eyes. “It looks like they’re all following. Even the ones way in back are moving. Cash, you were right. They’re just like lemmings.”
I leaned back on the white vinyl seat. Thank God. We’d been counting on the zeds sticking with their herd mentality. That once a critical mass moved, the rest would tag happily along. Zeds weren’t very bright, to say the least, and it wasn’t too hard to outthink them. Except what they lacked in brains, they made up for in numbers and ferocity.
Unfortunately, no matter how simple and foolproof the plan was, when you’re surrounded by a hundred thousand zeds, it just might not matter. Predictability can fly out the window. Griz and Jase relied on prayer to make the difference. The rest of us were relying on luck.
The current carried us faster than the herd walked so Kurt started the engine every thirty minutes or so to bring us back to the herd. It was a slow process. Two hours later, we were barely a mile south of the Aurora. At this rate, it would take us an entire day to get the herd out of the sight of the towboat and its barges, and a few days to get the herd back on their migratory path.
When the sun reached high in the sky, Kurt lifted the boat’s sunshade. The music dampened the constant moaning. Wes had long since fallen asleep, his snores filtering through the wide-brimmed straw hat covering his face. If I closed my eyes and ignored the smells, the boat ride was almost tranquil, and I could pretend it was just another day on the water, in a world where the outbreak had never happened. There was a sense of safety in the boat, knowing that the zeds couldn’t swim out to us. When I opened my eyes to a landscape filled with zeds, with zeds reaching out to us as they stumbled along the riverbank, reality soured my daydream.
For lunch, we each had a can of tuna and some flatbread. We didn’t carry water. Instead, we carried carbon-filter straws made for camping, and drank directly from the river. Every time I leaned over the side of the boat to drink, I had a near panic attack from imagining hands reaching up and grabbing me. Fortunately, the only thing out of the ordinary was a faded beer can floating by.
We chatted, but small talk was hard ever since the outbreak. Without sports, politics, and celebrities, there were only so many things a person could talk about that didn’t dredge up the topic of death or zeds.
I stared off at the treetops that lined the Mississippi. “This river has a lot of levees and little islands,” I mused.
“It shouldn’t be too hard to find a good hiding place once they get back on their migration,” Griz said.
“The landscape can change within just a few miles. Let’s hope there will be cover available when we need it,” Kurt cautioned.
“Hey guys. There’s a lock and dam coming up. We’ll be there in a few hours at this rate,” Jase said as he pulled out his binoculars.
“How’s the lock look?” Clutch said from behind Kurt.
“Nuh-uh,” Jase said. “It looks like it’s blocked by a big boat.”
“Damn. I was hoping we’d get lucky and the lock would be clear,” Kurt said.
“Can we get through another way?” Clutch asked.
“Doubt it,” Kurt said.
Clutch muttered a string of profanity, his words echoed by complaints and curses by every single one of us. When she wasn’t being a bitch, Nikki had told us how various crews had opened all the locks after the outbreak to travel the river easier. We’d been counting on having a wide open path. With a lock blocked, we quite literally had nowhere to go except back.
I looked at my watch and tried to mentally calculate our location. We’d been on the river for nine hours. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. “We can’t be more than four or five miles from the Aurora.”
“That’s not far enough,” Griz said and turned to Clutch. “What’s the plan, Sarge?”
Goosebumps flitted across my skin. Once we reached the lock, we’d be fucked. The zeds would close us in. We couldn’t turn back without bringing the herds with us to the Aurora. There were no islands or outcroppings of trees to lose the zeds in.
Clutch’s lips thinned as he looked at the herd and then ahead toward the lock. After a moment, he spoke. “We keep going.”
Tension throbbed between my temples as I wracked my brain for ideas, but there were few options in a wide open river. We passed a couple outcroppings of dead trees, which would offer some cover, but we were still dangerously close to the river barge. An hour later, the game changed when we could see which boat was blocking the dock.
The Lady Amore was sitting sideways in the lock. It looked like it had tried to shove past the smaller boats and logs jamming up the lock but had gotten itself stuck. Without Sorenson to captain the riverboat, it looked like Sorenson’s remaining crew lacked the skill to navigate through the open locks and around dams.
“Oh, hell,” Jase said.
Clutch made his way toward the front of the boat where Jase was. “What is it?”
There are zeds all over the lock. It looks like they’re dropping down onto the boat.”
“What do we do?” Kurt asked.
“Our primary objective is to deter the herd,” Clutch said bluntly. “Everything else has to come second.” He turned to Kurt. “Will that small grouping of islands and trees over there work to hide us?”
Kurt bit his lip as he thought for a moment. “It should. It’s nice and close to the lock, so as long as we get there without them seeing us, it may work. Why?”
“Because the riverboat is going to draw their attention from us,” Clutch replied.
Kurt frowned. “There might be people still on board.”
Clutch narrowed his eyes. “The Aurora is counting on us.”
“He’s right,” Griz said quietly. “We’re not far enough away. If we turn around, we could lead them right back to the Aurora. The Lady Amore will distract them enough that they’ll forget about us and then keep going. It’s the only way.”