SurvivorZ: Grave Harbor

92

Tommy gazed at the frigid water, grunted in frustration, and shouted, "I said tropical."

There was nothing tropical about their dash to the rocky coastline. The cold wind blew the unbearable stench of rot and death into their nostrils from the undead wall standing between them and the fort.

"What's the plan?" Tommy huffed, pushing a dead man out of his way. The zombie fell on his ass with an unhappy groan. "We're not really going to swim out of here, are we?"

"You'd rather take your chances with the herd?" Denise growled.

"Kid's got a point, Saint Denise." Graves blasted an approaching zombie teenager off its feet, sending it flying against a second one trailing behind it. "We'll freeze our balls off paddling through there."

"That's your problem, not mine," she reminded him while shooting the face off an encroaching zombie. "And quit it with the Saint Denise shit."

"This'd go a lot easier if it wasn't so dark," Tommy moaned, missing the kill shot of a nearby dead man and slicing off his cheek instead. The monster wavered on his feet, resuming the pursuit after they flew past him.

"Pay attention," Graves said. "There're more of those bastards ahead."

The zombies between them and the shoreline weren't as densely packed as they were by the fence, but they stood close enough together across the parking lot to pose a problem. Speaking for himself, his six-shooter would run empty before he could punch a hole through their lines.

Denise stopped to fish something out of a pouch on her belt. "Cover me," she requested, seeking protection from a group of zombies closing in on them.

Graves and Tommy stepped in on either side of her. They popped off rounds without a word, stacking bodies like cordwood until Carl finally had to stop to reload. The space between gunshots resounded with ominous growls.

"Whatever you're doing, do it faster, huh?" Tommy mewled.

"Frag out," Denise announced, pulling the pin on the grenade she produced. She tossed it at the closest cluster of zombies blocking their path to the water. It bounced and rolled to their feet, giving her time to grab her gun and wait for their chance to proceed.

The explosion lit up the night, driving the entire horde into a gargled frenzy of howls. Fire ripped apart flesh and cloth, spraying burning body parts in all directions.

The smoke cleared a moment later, revealing a sizable gap in the line, illuminated by burning corpses. Among the smoldering remains, a few cooked stragglers roamed around blindly. They swiped the air as if trying to kill the blaze consuming their hair and clothes.

"Run for it!" Denise yelled.

The trio bolted for the opening before the herd moved in to reseal it. Without firing a shot, they safely passed through the still-smoking gap that the grenade punched into the moaning, biting wall. The gentle splash of freezing water on icy rock greeted them on the other side.

That and something else...

"Look!" Tommy shouted, pointing at an object skimming across the bay towards them.

The Zodiac, occupied by a lone individual in camo, splashed across the windswept surface of Pleasure Bay from the dock of the Harry McDonough Sailing Center. Its outboard motor was a mosquito's buzz, barely audible under the roars of the provoked throng. The sight was so unexpected that even Carl stopped to take it in.

The boat's operator veered close to shore, enticing the dead to chase after him. With almost synchronized precision, scores of zombies threw themselves over the wooden barricade between the parking lot and the bay. Bodies slid down the rocky embankment one after another, sinking to the bottom of the deep water as if tied to cement blocks.