Dead Waters - Anton Strout [73]
Jane’s eyes fluttered. “Simon. . . ?”
“Jane,” I said. “Help me. Fight it. Fight that woman’s power.”
Jane’s face returned to normal, which at the moment meant it was a mix of pain and confusion. She seemed to be disoriented and struggling, her arms shaking at her sides. I was so intent on trying to regain any sort of connection with her that it took me a moment to realize I was being dragged out the cabin door by the hands of the undead. “No!” I shouted, and Jane snapped to.
Jane eyed my situation, and then slapped one of her hands on the boat’s control panel. The glow of raw energy being siphoned from the ship ran up her arm as she spoke to it until the power ran into her and she channeled it down her other arm. Raw energy burst forth from her hand as it shot past me and struck the zombies holding me. The jolt of electricity sent a lesser tingle of sensation into my body as well, but I pulled myself free of the mess as I started to smell the wretched burn of decaying flesh.
I fell to my knees to retrieve my bat, landing hard on my satchel and worse, digging the metal corner of the Ghostbusters lunch box inside right into my lower ribs, stinging them. Once I was down, I decided to stay there for a few moments. The idea of standing back up and catching a blast from the Jedi power battle overhead had zero appeal to me, especially with the new pain in my side. I lay there, recovering, as Jane plunged her power into zombie after zombie with what amounted to a chain of lightning that ran from one zombie to the next. The stench was awful, but the foes all along the back side of the boat blew apart like they were eggs in the microwave.
As the deck cleared, Jane’s power began to falter until she stopped and collapsed on top of the control console in exhaustion. I got up off the floor to check on her. As I stood, I could see out the front of the control room once again. The bow of the boat was still covered in a monstrous swarm, and at the center of it all was Connor, fighting away. He was holding his own against the waterlogged, rotting army, but I wondered for how long. I turned away and put my hand on Jane’s shoulder.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her eyes were closed and her breath was coming in short rasps, but she nodded. “Just exhausted,” she said.
“Can you drive?”
She pushed herself up off the panel and looked at the wheel and the rest of the controls. “I’ve never driven a boat before.”
“It’s simple,” I said. “The trick is to try and not hit any land. But you know what? In this case, I think what we need is to get the hell off the water. Aim for Wards Island, up on our left.”
Jane looked nervous, but I needed to get moving if I was going to help Connor. While Jane fired up the boat and started her run at the island, I ran out of the cabin, doing my best to not slip in the slimy coating of zombie guts as I made my way back to the front of the boat. Connor had worked his way into a defensible position up against the very tip of the bow—a smart choice. The zombies could only come at him one by one due to the narrow confines of the space, but even with that advantage, more were struggling to climb up over the railing behind him.
I twirled my bat around in my hands while I raised it up into a classic batter’s stance. I rested it on my shoulder for a second, focusing in on the mob, and then started swinging for the outfield as hard as I could.
It was hard work, more so thanks to the sway of the now-wildly rocking boat, but both of us kept our feet. In a matter of moments, I had worked my way closer to Connor.
“Jesus,” I said, feeling the strain in my arms. “They keep coming up over the railings.”
“Don’t worry, kid,” Connor said. “With the boat moving, I think the undead crowd is thinning.”
“Good,” I said. “I can barely swing anymore.”
“What’s the matter, kid?” he asked. “You don’t want to swim for the island?”