Walter Greatshell - Apocalypticon

Momentarily left alone, Sal, Todd, and Ray quickly managed to loose their slipknots-but there was nowhere to go. They were surrounded, trapped in the bottom of the barge with grisly combat raging in front of them, their backs to a sheer, twenty-foot-high wall of shipping boxes that comprised the lowest tier of the pyramid. There was no cover, nowhere to run.

"What the fuck do we do now?" hissed Todd.

"Take a number," Ray said. "They'll call us when it's our turn to die."

Struck with a duh moment of inspiration, Sal said, "Wait, I thought these suits were supposed to protect us!"

"Not from Reapers."

"No, that's my point!" Gathering up the slack lariats, he wound them around a cleat and dropped the lassos into the open grease pit.

Trying to stop him, Todd said, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Leggo!-you're right, it's not Xombies we need to worry about."

"Yeah, but I'm not ready to trust my life to this suit-thing didn't come with no warrantee."

"It's our only chance!" Sal said. "We have to get past them to the boats!"

"Riiight," said Ray, nodding dully. "With those assholes up there shooting everything in sight? Awesome idea."

"Most of them just got out of bed-they don't have a clue what's going on. They're not paying any attention to us because they think we're Reapers. The only ones who know the truth are too busy fighting to do anything about it."

There was a sudden eruption from the bilge-a fountain of splattering grease as Xombies started spurting out like newborn reptiles. Crowding each other, drooling slime, they clambered over the suited boys, shoving past them toward more likely subjects.

Ray freaked out a little as Voodooman crawled over him: "Sick, man-don't touch me! Oh my God, oh my God…"

"Follow me!" Sal shouted, bolting. Todd shrugged and followed.

Ray thought, That's crazy, but if Todd was going, so was he. No way he was staying behind with these nasty things popping up out of the deck like disgusting fetuses. He grabbed his samurai sword and ran.

The deck was a vision of hell, demons alive and dead closing in on every side, and Sal didn't think they were going to make it. The boys hacked wildly, neither knowing nor caring if those they chopped down were human or otherwise. Then they were pushing through incoming Xombies at the rail and vaulting over, Sal's flesh mitts giving excellent purchase as he clung to the rope netting on the opposite side.

Shit-it was a longer drop than he'd thought. But the boats were there: several dozen light watercraft of various types-Jet Skis, Zodiacs, Boston Whalers-all moored around a string of bright yellow pontoons chained to the barge. Todd was already clambering from one pontoon to the next, heading for a pod of Jet Skis at the end.

Jumping down to the wobbly platform, Ray looked at Sal through their cactus-headed helmets, and said, "Whoa. Some grip, huh?"

"Yeah, sticky. Move your ass." Sal glanced up to see armed Reapers descending by nets from the upper decks. The shooting let up while their comrades were in the field of fire. It was now or never. He followed the other two across the bobbing footbridge. Todd had managed to untie the mooring line that held all five Jet Skis together, keeping three while the rest drifted off on the current. Ray got on the second one.

"You better let me on back," Sal said. "I never rode one of these before."

"Are you serious?"

"No-I'm into bikes, not boats. Move over!"

"You can't-our suits can't touch."

"Just let me on, and we'll figure it out!"

Todd snapped, "No! Just get on one and do what I do!"

Sal reluctantly straddled the third craft. "What now?"

"It's like a motorcycle: Turn on the ignition and throttle up." He revved the handle. "Okay?"

Sal tried it, nodded. "Okay."

"Now follow me."

They started forward, accelerating upriver. As soon as they cleared the shadow of the barge's hull, spurts of water began popping up all around them. One banked off the cowling of Sal's Jet Ski, leaving a deep gash. Oh shit, he thought, ducking low.

But the shooting was sparse, disorganized, and fell off sharply as they moved out of close range. Obviously, the Xombies were the primary concern. The boys went faster as they got the feel for how the Jet Skis handled, really punching the gas as they passed the bogus paddle wheeler and made for the sheltering arches of the I-195 highway bridge.

Sal stared up at the floating casino's towering superstructure, searching for any sign of Kyle in its upper windows. He knew the boy was probably dead, but the possibility that he was still alive and being tortured for information while they rode away was almost unbearable. If only he would see them and jump out a window, so they could pick him up. Come on, Kyle, come on…

Then, incredibly, Sal saw something, something that made him slow to a puttering idle. There was a bright reflection on the glass, but for a second he could vaguely make out a face looking down at him from the highest window… then it turned away and was gone. Letting out his breath, Sal gunned his water scooter beneath the bridge and around the thick stone abutments to where Todd and Ray were waiting on the far side.

"We made it, man!" Todd shouted as he pulled up. "We really made it! Holy shit!"

Ray asked, "How we ever gonna get these suits off without that oxygen tent?"

"Cross that bridge when we come to it!"

"We did just come to it."

"Oh man! This is excellent!" Todd was beaming, shaking his head in wonder. "So that's it, dude, that's it! We ditch these things and head back across town to the rafts, then hit the boat and tell the skipper everything we know. Should be a cakewalk now… long as the boat's still there." There was a hitch in his breathing, and suddenly he started to cry. The suddenness of the meltdown seemed to catch him by surprise. "What the fuck, man," he sobbed.

Sal knew exactly what he was thinking because he had the same thought: Thirty-seven down, three to go. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You two go ahead without me. I'm not leaving just yet."

Trying to collect himself, Todd didn't register the words. "What?"

"I'm going back for Kyle."

"You're what? He's dead, man."

"I thought I saw him just now, when we passed that other barge. I don't know if it was really him or not, but I can't just leave him behind-not when it should have been me up there. I already left everybody else; I don't care about what happens to me anymore. I can't face going back to the boat if I don't at least try."

"Are you crazy, dude? It's suicide! What the hell you think you're gonna do?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, great plan."

"What I do know is that in this suit I might be able to pass for one of those Reaper assholes. They're all tied up fighting Xombies right now, so there won't be any better time. I'll catch them with their pants down."

"So you're just going to sneak back, grab Kyle, and waltz right out of there?"

"Pretty much. You saw that casino-there's only a few guys there with El Dopa."

"That we know about." Dizzy with incomprehension, Todd said, "Don't do it, dude. We need you."

"I have to. I'm sorry. I know it's messed up. You guys go on without me."

"Fine. You know what? You suck. Go ahead-we're leaving."

Suddenly Ray spoke up: "Uh, Todd? I don't think I'm going anywhere." Sheepishly, he held up his gloved hand to show some blood on it. "I think I been hit."

It was true-Ray had been shot in the right side, the bullet passing through his Xombie oversuit and the various layers of material beneath. It was impossible to examine or treat the wound; the Xombie flesh puckered around it like a cat's anus. There was not much blood. "Just leave me here," he said glumly. "I'll only slow you down."

"That's it then," said Todd, unable to hide his relief. "Sal, you have to come ashore with us. I can't carry Ray back by myself."