Chapter 34: The Boathouse
"Look, it's the boathouse!" Louis commented when they reached the riverfront.
Francis looked at the wharf and scowled. "Not much of a boathouse when there are no boats left. Now it's just… a house."
"Very insightful of you, Francis," Bill said sarcastically. He motioned the group into the ruined building. "Come on, let's check inside for supplies."
However, they made a much more exciting discovery – an intact radio was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, static issuing from its speaker.
"Hot damn!" Zoey exclaimed. "Do you think we might be able to contact the army with that?"
"The army ain't in Riverside anymore, kid," Bill replied.
Suddenly, the radio crackled as it broadcasted a message. "If th… an… sur… vers... fire… sss respo…"
The survivors looked at each other in excitement, and the war veteran strode forward to fiddle with the radio. He adjusted the dials until he finally matched the frequency with the broadcast.
"If there are any survivors out there with firearms, please respond," the radio squawked.
"Survivors with firearms, huh?" Zoey commented.
The transmission repeated itself several more times, before Bill took up the microphone. "Hello, do you copy? Over."
The radio hissed with static for a moment, before there was a reply. "We read you loud and clear, over."
"I am transmitting from Riverside. We are at the riverbank, and there are four of us. We require immediate evac. Three of us are known to be immune to the virus. Over."
"This is John Slater, transmitting from the Saint Lidia II. We are a small fishing vessel anchored off Riverside. Are you and your group armed? Over."
Bill raised an eyebrow at the others quizzically. What a strange question. "Son, we just fought our way to this spot from Fairfield. We are well armed. I repeat, we are well armed."
"Copy that," the radio squawked. "We are anchored offshore near Riverside Lighthouse. We can pick you up from there. Over."
"The lighthouse, huh?"
"Activate the light when you arrive to signal us in once you get there. Do you copy?"
Bill looked at the others, who all nodded in agreement. "We copy. We'll be there."
"Over and out."
He lifted his M-16 rifle and leaned back against the table. "Well, looks like we got orders for a little hike."
"Where is this lighthouse?" Louis inquired.
The old man spread a map of Riverside, which he had taken from the picnic shelter, out on the table while the others crowded around him. "We are here…" He said, pointing to a spot on the map north of the town. "And the lighthouse is… here. So we just have to follow this road southwest, and we'll come to it. Far as I can make out, it's roughly three miles away."
"You want us to walk for three miles in the dark through the woods?" Francis challenged.
"You got a better idea?"
He looked outside the window at the car-park. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Francis walked over the single car sitting abandoned in the parking lot. It looked intact, and it hopefully had some fuel left. Just in case, Bill was currently searching the boathouse for any jerry cans that the army may have been left behind.
"Do you think you can hotwire it?" Louis asked.
"Please," the biker snorted. "I've 'borrowed' plenty of cars in my time. This'll be a piece of cake."
With that, he took off his vest, wrapped it around his hand and then smashed the front window on the driver's side. A shrill alarm erupted into the air, shocking him, Louis and Zoey.
"Francis!" she cried in horror.
"Crap… I didn't think about the alarm…" he said sheepishly.
A primal snarl drifted from the woods nearby, followed by others. Soon, the entire night was filled with a terrifying chorus of howling and screaming.
"That sounds like a lot of infected..." he groaned.
"Less talking, more hotwiring!" Zoey snapped.
Bill climbed the stairs to the second floor of the boathouse, pistol held out in front of him, flashlight piercing the darkness. He paused on the top step and listened for noises. Silence. Sweeping his light across the room, he saw that there was nothing but junk lying around.
Perhaps the only noteworthy thing in the entire room was a clothing rack, on which several dresses and coats hung. He snorted in derision when he noticed a cheap, brown suit hanging among the other articles of clothing. Who would actually wear one of those things? The old veteran crept across the room toward a dark, open doorway, but then he stopped.
Am I hearing things? Or is there something breathing in here with me?
Bill swung the light around the room again but nothing seemed out of place.
Hang on… Wasn't there a brown suit hanging off that clothes rack a second ago…?
He steadied his rifle, and then he heard some scuffling off to his left.
Goddamn it.
He swung his light around to reveal the culprit – a large rat scurrying along the floor. The old man breathed a sigh of relief – and then he just about jumped a mile in the air. The loud, shrill screech of a car alarm wailed from outside.
"Francis, we make it outta here alive, I'mma wring your goddamn neck," Bill growled.
At that moment, a powerful arm wrapped itself around his neck, catching him by total surprise. He cried out in shock and his pistol clattered uselessly to the ground. Bill struggled with his snarling attacker, but the infected man had him in a chokehold that was difficult break out of. He felt the attacker's head leaning forward, and then felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder seconds later. He screamed in pain.
Gunfire clattered in the night air as Zoey and Louis' assault rifles unleashed a hail of hot lead into the Common Infected that emerged from the dark trees. So far, they were managing to hold them at bay, but more and more were coming.
"Francis! I thought you knew how to hotwire a car!" Louis yelled as he reloaded.
"I do!" the biker snapped. "Just give me a goddamn minute!"
The deafening roar of the incoming horde grew even louder, and even seemed to emanate from the very ground.
"Louis, I do not have a good feeling about this…" Zoey cried, firing off a short burst that took down several more Infected.
Bill grunted in pain as he fought to throw the attacker off his back, but to no avail. Throwing his weight backward, he stumbled and then slammed his back against the wall as hard as he could. The infected man stopped biting at his shoulder momentarily to snarl in anger. The wiry combatant took advantage of the opportunity to reach both of his hands over his shoulder, grab the man's head and violently twist it sideways. He heard a satisfying SNAP, and his attacker slid off his back to the floor.
Bill wasted no more time, scooping his gun up off the floor and continuing his petrol scavenger hunt. That car alarm was broadcasting their exact coordinates to the Infected, and they needed to be out of here by the time the main horde arrived. He kicked open a door and found, to his satisfaction, several jerry-cans full of petrol stashed in the small storeroom.
Gunfire rippled through the air as Zoey and Louis stood by the car, their assault rifles raised to their shoulders. More infected people were appearing from the trees without reprieve, and the situation was rapidly deteriorating. However, with a triumphant roar, the car engine came to life.
Francis straightened up in the driver's seat and leaned on the window sill, a smug grin on his face. "Hey there. You crazy kids need a ride?"
"How are we for fuel?" Zoey asked frantically, swinging her M-16 around and gunning down a woman several metres from the car. Blood splattered across the windshield.
Francis casually flicked a switch, squirting a spray of wiper fluid onto the window and activating the windshield wipers. "Nearly empty, which I guess is why it was abandoned? But I'm sure gramps is bringin' us some more as we speak." He looked toward the boathouse to see Bill running out, hauling a jerry-can with him. "Well, speak of the devil…"
"Cover me!" the older man yelled as he ran around to the back of the car to transfer the petrol into the gas tank. Zoey and Louis took their place beside him, firing off shots at anything that moved. And there were a lot of things moving.
"FUCK this!" the former office worker yelled, hurling his Molotov forward into the trees. Orange light flashed, along with squeals of pain as several Infected were set on fire.
"Done!" Bill yelled, dropping the can. "Let's haul ass!"
"Holy shit, here they come!" Francis exclaimed. "Holy shit!"
The other survivors all piled into the car, just in time to see the bulk of the crowd emerge from the trees. There were not enough bullets in the world to cut down the mob charging for them. Several of them were on fire. All of them were gunning straight for the car.
"Go! Go! Go!" Zoey screamed.
Francis hit the accelerator, sending the tyres into a squeal of protest on the bitumen as the car fishtailed into movement. Several infected people were run over in the parking lot. One of them, however, managed to latch onto the car hood. He reared up and brought a hand down, punching his fist straight through the windshield. Shards of glass showered into the front of the car.
"Shit!" Francis yelled.
The man raised his hand to strike again, but Bill was faster, whipping up his pistol and letting fly several bullets. They pierced the infected man's cranium, sending him flying off the car. The vehicle rumbled as it ran over his body a second later.
"They're catching up!" Zoey screamed, looking out the rear window to see the rest of the bloodthirsty horde approaching rapidly.
Francis gunned the motor and guided the car out of the parking lot of the boathouse. It peeled into the road and then took off, disappearing into the night.