Zombie Files: Exiled at Sea - Part Two

Adrift. . .

    After the Sun had beaten Gerard into submission, he struggled to stay afloat the freezing waters.  He began slipping in and out of consciousness after night had fell, and his arms had grown weary from being shackled together.  The ocean water stung at his red wrists and swollen hands.  Inescapable blackness threatened to swallow him whole if he were tempted to give into its underwater allure.

 

    Memories of his childhood danced across his mind like synaptic home-movies.  Playing catch with dad, his mother teaching him to read, running to their bedroom during a thunderstorm and other recollections swam along side him in the water.  His father had been a successful, mechanical engineer, and his mother worked as a nurse in the ICU at the local hospital.  The whole family had decided on a cruise vacation that summer because of his parent's 15 year anniversary.  It was supposed to be a two-week trip around the Bahamas, but it turned permanent once the feeder plague had decimated the world's population.  Gerard's father had even helped The Hyperion's crew repair their engine after a critical failure had immobilized the large vessel days after the initial outbreak.  The surrounding islands had turned into a tumultuous war-zone, so they were forced to stay at sea for a long while.  Whole cities burned, and the putrid smoke filled the air for weeks on end.

    Gerard recalled that by the end of the first month, their ship was running low on food and fuel.  Many passengers wanted to raid the nearby islands, but the original captain of The Hyperion, Captain Harris, wanted to sail back to the states instead.  Moore and his fleet found them not long after that, and his armada was comprised of thirty-six different ships, some with sails and others with engines.  Admiral Moore's personal ship however, was a large oil tanker that he nicknamed Dreadnaught.  Harris welcomed them aboard immediately as he was curious to hear their story.  They had sailed from the coast of Florida and explained to the good captain that America was lost.  Moore offered the man a deal of sorts:  They would provide The Hyperion with most of their crude oil and raid neighboring islands for supplies to satisfy both their needs, if Captain Harris would let them live aboard his luxurious cruise liner.  He politely refused the man's offer out of a misplaced sense of honor and duty to his country, so Moore shot him in the the head when his back was turned.  Most people didn't have the grit to question Moore's authority after that incident, but Gerard's father and a few others refused to serve under him in protest one night.  Gerard never saw either one of his parents ever again after that.

   

    The sky lit up with a thunderous crackle as it started to rain hard.  Gerard began to lose hope as the ocean violently tossed him about, and within moments, he was completely submerged.  Struggling to reach the surface, he managed to break his rusty shackles by pulling them apart as hard as he could muster.  Once he reached the top, the air felt wonderful in his lungs, and he stretched out his aching arms for relief.  That's when he felt something else in the sea with him; A lonely branch sticking out of the water.  He grabbed the nearby piece of floating driftwood and immediately felt the massive weight of the thing.  This giant tree sprawled deeply beneath him, disappearing into the murky depths.  Gerard propped himself onto the sturdy branch, letting his limbs hang freely over the side.  Not having to keep his body upright, he was finally able to relax.  The storm was starting to subside and amazingly, Gerard managed to fall asleep that night atop the wooden skiff.

    The cool tide hit Gerard's feet again and again.  In his dream state, he wondered how this could be, but concluded that he must be dead and continued sleeping.  Finally, he felt the presence of a person above him.  Gerard opened his eyes and looked up at the mysterious figure.  It was a blurry vision but he could make out the long hair of a beautiful woman.  The strange girl bent over, and it appeared as if she were trying to give him a kiss.

    Gerard heard a wet squish as a wooden arrow penetrated the hungry feeder's skull.  She slumped over in the sand beside him.  Finally, he realized that he was lying on the beach of an unknown island, moments away from being helplessly devoured.  “Who's there?” Gerard managed to ask with a parched rasp as he sat up and gauged his surroundings.  There was a cloaked figure walking towards him with a large bow slung across his back.  As he got closer, he saw that it was an older man with a grey beard and a black piece of fabric concealing his eyes.

  

    “Did the storm bring you here?” the elderly man asked. 

    “I'm not shipwrecked, I was exiled by a tyrannical bastard named Moore,” he truthfully exclaimed.  Gerard felt that he could trust the man that had just saved his life.  “How... how do you aim that bow with your eyes covered like that?”

    “I see what I need need to see.  Besides, goners are as noisy as they are pungent,” he told Gerard.  “Why were you abandoned by this Moore fellow?”

    “I killed another man.  It was self-defense, but they didn't see it that way.  It's funny, back on The Hyperion, everyone calls the native people, savages and beasts.  But you don't seem that way to me.”

    “It's lies they've been feeding you, propaganda to keep you cloistered and complacent.  I've known men like him.  What do they call you back on your ship?” he questioned. 

    “Gerard.  What should I call you?”

    “Don't remember my name from before.  My memory isn't what it used to be.  People on this island call me Archer for obvious reasons.  By the way, Gerard, I wouldn't tell anybody else about your ship.  We've had to suffer endless raids by those Hyperion thugs, and that little piece of information could get you killed here.” Archer explained.

    “Well, thank you.  I'll have to keep that in mind.  And thanks for handling that feeder for me...  That's what we call 'em.”

    “Feeders, huh?” he let out a hearty laugh and then regained his composure.  “Gerard, there is a small settlement a few miles from here.  We have food and water, and I'm sure they wouldn't mine if I brought you along.  Would you like that?”

    “Yes, I would,” he told his newfound friend.  As he stood up and dusted off the sand from his back and legs, he noticed the piece of driftwood sitting solemnly on the shore.  It was not just a dead tree, but a majestic ark that had carried him to safety, and Gerard bid it farewell.

    

   

Special Guest Writer - Alex