Sinking (COMPLETED)

[perfectlemonade]

Nine

I awake with the morning sun in my eyes and my gut unspeakably sore. Hands shaking, I lift up my shirt to reveal my belly, pockmarked with splotches of deep blue and black bruises. No doubt some kind of internal bleeding in there. If I get out of here, I’m going to have this injury to worry about.

     “It’s 6 in the morning, brother. The Army gets here in an hour.”

     “An hour, huh?”

     “Wow.” The thought of actually getting off this dulls the pain enough for me to force myself to stand up. And then I am suddenly thinking about Emily. It’s weird, but I kind of miss her. I never even told her how I felt, that I am sure of now, after I have had some time to ponder my feelings for her. That I’m now positive that whatever I feel for her, it’s something more than a distraction from the zombies, that it’s… it’s actual love.

     Colin snickers. “Looks like you messed him up pretty bad too.” I smile, studying his disfigured face. He’s right. He will never look the same after what I did to him.

     The redheaded lady whose name I still cannot remember pipes up. “Uh, yes. What if you’re injured?” She turns her head just a fraction of an inch towards me. The crewmember narrows his eyes at her. He knows that I’m the only one here that’s truly injured severely.

     “Hey, listen here bud,” I say, forcing myself to look as healthy as possible. De Luca chatters with Captain Barker on the radio. “I think I may have internal bleeding and I am probably dying a very slow death, but I’ll be fine to get out of here. You can be sure of that.”

     “I’m honored,” I hiss. Ever since De Luca almost threw me out to the zombies, and no one on the crew had the balls to stop him, I guess I have reason to not like these people.

     The last sentence hangs in the air for a long time. It seems like a terribly animalistic thing to do, leaving behind those you cherish the most. Leaving behind Emily who, and I won’t lie to myself anymore, I will most likely never see again. Can I do that? Can I leave the ship without her? Without my mother? Just leaving them to their watery graves, trapped under a mountain of steel and glass and death?

     As always.

     She’s just a casualty of war.

     Because he loves me.

     I look down at my hands, and the smooth handle of the axe fits nicely in my fingers. And suddenly, I am ready to go. My mother is gone. Emily is gone. But their sacrifices have made this possible. I will not let this ship drag me under with it. I will get out of here, and so will Colin, and I’ll have my life and, after a while, I’ll get over Emily and even Mom. And then I’ll be free.

     I grip the axe so tightly my knuckles turn white. There’s this urge to say some awesome one-liner, a la Bruce Campbell, but I can’t think of anything. Instead, I glance up at the clock. 6:18 AM. 42 minutes left.

     Until now.

     I check the clock for the bazillionth time. 6:57. Radio chatter has picked up, and I keep Colin close. He’s pocketed his PSP and traded it out for a table leg. I have a feeling he won’t be needing it though. None of these zombies will be able to bring down a fighter like Colin.

     “Yes, Colin.” It hurts, it hurts so bad, but I’m going to fight the pain. I won’t let it kill me. No, if anything here is going to kill me, it’s going to be the zombies.

     And in the distance, over the constant moan of the undead, arises a new sound. A low, endless hum. Everyone stops what they’re doing. Someone drops their bottle of water and I hear the liquid seep into the carpet. We all turn around to look out the window, and we just wait, the early morning sun belting our eyes. Wait. Wait. Wait. The hum grows louder with each passing moment.

     Then, the most welcome sight I have ever seen in my entire life. Five V-22 Ospreys, flying in a beautiful V-shape, swoop across the deck, machine guns blaring. The roar of gunfire and propellers drown out the zombie’s cries of agony as they are torn to bits by the bullets. We all rush to the window, pressing our faces against the glass. I keep Colin held tight against me as we watch the helicopters disperse. Three of them head towards the bow, while the other two stay over the swimming pool, machine guns blaring. Undead drop like flies, and we are all cheering. This is happening so fast. Too fast.

     The soldiers disperse, methodically pushing through the unending mass of zombies. The one that seems to be leading the team points to the bridge and they adjust their approach. Gunfire booms all around us. And it’s magical. It’s just fucking magical.

     We are all suddenly running around in a frenzied panic, our animalistic instincts to survive consuming us. Friends grab friends, parents grab children. There are cries of both terror and joy, that our saviors have finally arrived, but we still have to go out there and face the undead to get out. Hair is secured. Shoelaces are double-knotted. Colin and I are pushed to the door, first in line behind Antonio. I recognize him as one of the men that almost threw me out to the zombies last night.

     Heavy footfalls on the stairs. A consistent beating of boots on polished wood. I tense up, one hand on my axe and the other gripping Colin’s shoulder. The footsteps cease, but I can sense the soldiers outside.

     Antonio glances at the Captain, who nods. None of us are talking. I don’t understand why. Maybe we are just beyond words at this point. Maybe the fact that we are actually getting rescued and this is all happening just way too fast has taken away any words that we have left to say.

     Sergeant Davidson—a physically towering man, his blood-splattered camo uniform that I notice seems to have a touch of Kevlar sewn into it, with dark, piercing eyes and his finger on the trigger of his M4—stares us all down. His team follows, and they all look like coldblooded killers. I suppose they are, if you considered the slaying of zombies to be murder.

     Mumbles of approval. We’re all in shock.

     I want blood.

     I shake out my head, thrown violently back into reality. I look down at Colin. He has tears in his eyes.

     “I… I’m not sure, bud,” I answer, gripping the axe. The sun is out and there are zombies and we are all being herded like sheep as the soldiers dispatch one undead after the other. I twirl around. “This is incredible, Colin! This is awesome! We’re getting out of here! We’re—”

     A woman screams and Colin starts to cry even though he’s stronger than me and we all stop and turn around on a dime, just to see a soldier taken down from behind. His helmet is ripped off his head and he’s screaming in agony as he’s swarmed.

     I know what’s going to happen before it happens.

     The circle breaks apart. The formerly organized advance becomes a mad dash for survival. I kick into gear. I go back to what I know. What I know I can do to get Colin and I out of this. Once and for all.

No need to be a hero.

     A huge blob of zombies, at least 500 strong. I don’t know where they came from, but I’m assuming every single zombie on this ship is coming up here to see what’s going on. I realize now there will be no end to this. If we can’t get through these zombies, somehow, we’re going to—

     There she is.

     Mom.

     And she’s staring right at us.

     Besides, my legs wouldn’t work anyways.

     One of them.

     Colin tugs at my shirt, even when he sees Mom. “Come on, Daniel!” he cries desperately. “She’s gone! Let’s go!”

     My axe clatters to the deck. Somewhere, deep inside me, I want to run. I want to fight. I want to at least ensure Colin’s survival.

     She’s a zombie.

     And in a couple hours, everything will be at the bottom of the ocean.

     And Colin’s.

     I should’ve been a hero. Maybe I would’ve died earlier.

     She reaches out, and she moans as she rips out a patch of my hair. I grimace, but I am ready for it. I am ready for the pain. I am ready for her teeth to dig into my neck, and for this place to consume me once and for all. I think to Colin. It sucks that he’s going to die, but, you know, if there is a Heaven or a Hell, at least all three of us will be there. Together again.

     I’ve never really been even remotely involved with a girl like that before. A girl as freaking beautiful and awesome as Emily.

     But I’m not. I’m not dead. And my mother stops, groans, and collapses. There is a bullethole in her forehead. I gasp and turn around on a dime. Colin is still alive. This is not happening. All the soldiers are dead or running for their lives. There is no help for us.

     “DANIEL! HEY!”

     But through gaps in the zombies feeding on their prey, I see her sprinting across the swimming pool. Along with twenty other survivors.

     I rub out my eyes, and there she is, smiling at me, and she is wearing the same blood stained jeans and her hair is tied back and there is a large bruise under her left eye but dammit, it’s her. Jesus Christ.

     They survived. They all survived.

     “I thought you were dead, Emily,” I tell her, still locked in our wonderful hug that could just go on forever and ever.

     I am suddenly getting butterflies. Damn. We’re surrounded by zombies, and I’m getting nervous over a girl.

     Then she is kissing me and I don’t even know what’s going on and Colin, who has obviously realized we have a chance now, makes a vomiting sound and I laugh while I’m kissing her and I think she laughs too and then we stop kissing, because the Ospreys are waiting, and they aren’t going to wait here all day.

     I nod and we’re running through the pool. Colin has become a lot more composed and even brings down a zombie with a vicious kick to the jaw. We eventually regroup with the rest of the survivors, facing the horde that is standing in our way once again. I look at my mother’s corpse, and the pain is there, but not the anger. Not the paralysis that comes with the pain.

     The scarred man that lead the group of ten badasses on their expedition steps to the front. “Okay boys,” he yelps, a primal fire burning in his eyes. “Light em up!”

     As the horde thins, we begin to press forward. Soon the pack is halved. I step around still-twitching corpses and even end the suffering of a zombie whose legs had been shot off. Feeling my axe sink into its skull is… liberating.

     Never.

     I stare them down. My mother is among them. She will not be buried. Given a proper funeral. She will be trapped under the sea, under tons and tons of rusting steel, and then, in a while, she’ll be forgotten. Just like everyone else.

     But then I see his hand.

     “You’re bitten,” I say.

     I let go of Colin’s hand and glance at Emily. “Get him a seat and keep him safe. I’ve got to take care of this man.”

     But I’m pissed.

     “What are you doing, son?” the soldier asks me. He’s old—probably my dad’s age.

     The soldiers look at each other. “Well… but… okay,” one of them finally says. The tears really start to flow and De Luca begs them to let him come along, that he’ll do anything, but I’ve already silenced him with the butt of my axe. He hits the deck, unconscious.

     I turn around and walk away, back up the ramp of our V-22, the roar of the propellers and gunfire deafening. Emily and Colin have saved a seat for me next to them, near the back of the chopper. I sit down, my axe clattering to the floor, and strap myself in. We look at each other, just us three. And then we do something that I didn’t really expect, not here, not under these conditions.

     I know right? Weird.

     My ears pop as we ascend higher and higher, and I look out the window. The ship is a wreck. Dark clouds of smoke billow from fires that have popped back up, an unavoidable consequence of a zombie outbreak. The collapsed roof above the Atrium is clearly visible. Gleaming patches of oil and diesel fuel has spread across the ocean surrounding the Magnificence of the Seas, an additional poison inflicted by this nightmare.

     “Roger, Angel 1, prep for boom. Over and out.”

     The missile zooms past us, almost too close for comfort, but just almost, and slams into the side of the ship. It explodes into a huge ball of fire and flame almost instantaneously. Millions of gallons of diesel will do that, I guess.

     I am holding Emily’s hand, and she is so beautiful and I’m pretty sure she’s my girlfriend now and dammit, we’re actually alive.

     I’m sitting on a cold, metal table on the USS Ronald Reagan. A military doctor is giving me a full body, fully naked, fully mortifying, examination for any signs of infection. So far, so good. It hasn’t been too awkward.

     The doctor sticks a thermometer in my ear. I catch a glimpse of my temperature. 98.8. Not bad. “Carper, eh? You don’t happen to be related to—”

     “Ya don’t say! I was at West Point with Bill. He was… a great man. You’re lucky to have him as a father, Daniel.”

     It’s quiet for a while. “All right, Daniel,” the doctor says, his voice suddenly serious. I whip on my hospital gown. “So here’s the deal. While your injuries sustained to your abdomen seem to be serious and hurt a lot, you will not need surgery. We will keep you overnight and give you some procoagulants and painkillers via IV, but other than that, I think you will be fine in the long run. You survived, Daniel.” He shakes me hand. “Congratulations. We’ll be home in a couple days. However, just as a protocol, before we get off, I’d like for you to see the ship psychologist. I know you experienced horrible things aboard the Magnificence of the Seas, and I’m sure you’d like to get some things off your chest. Fair enough?”

     He walks out of the cold, bland room, replaced by a military nurse. She leads me through a dizzying maze of halls and doors until we finally end up at my room. Emily and Colin are sitting against the wall, Colin fast asleep on Emily’s shoulder. I’m glad they’re getting along. Colin isn’t always the most welcoming person in the world, but he seems to be doing well with Emily.

     “Well, I’m not going to need surgery,” I tell her, the nurse tugging on me. I hobble into bed and cringe as she pricks me with the needle. “But they’re giving me procoagulants to stop the bleeding. And painkillers. And after that I’ll be good.”

     Emily smiles, paying no attention to the nurse. It’s a smile of relief, and it’s beautiful. The nurse sets up my IV and walks out while I flip on the TV. The news. They’re talking about the ship. “That’s great, Daniel. I’m glad you’re going to be okay.” She traverses the tubes and wires and takes hold of my hand as the painkillers begin to kick in.

     “Yeah,” she answers, giggling. “He was a jerk.”

     “I know you didn’t. It’s okay. I did things on that ship I’m not proud of either. But you shouldn’t feel bad about it. We’re safe now, and I’m with you and you’re with me and whatever happened there is the past.”

     She sighs. “About that, Daniel. I was thinking… I don’t have anyone. I’ve never met my grandparents, and all of my aunts and uncles are either too poor to take me in, or already have kids. I can’t go to an orphanage. Not at this age. I can’t, Daniel. So…”

     Emily shrugs, a sheepish grin on her face. I can’t help but to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll ask my dad about it when we get home, okay?” She doesn’t answer. I grip her hand a little harder. “Okay.”

     And then we’re quiet and we both watch the news. I laugh when I make out the headline on the pitifully small screen. They’re saying it was pirates.

     “It’s good. The bruises are healing and the doc said that the bleeding’s stopped.”

     And, of course, he’s got the notepad.

     When I was talking to my shrink back home—this young guy named Dr. White that my mom would make me go see to handle my dad’s absence from my life—she had the notepad, and whenever I said something remotely unusual or even interesting, she would write it down and put it in my file so it could follow me around for the rest of my life. And now Dr. Bickley’s got the notepad. And it makes me feel uncomfortable.

     “Now,” he says. “How are you doing? How are you handling the adjustment back to normality?”

     He nods, trying to seem genuinely interested. “Yes, yes. Of course. What you are experiencing is… unfathomable. I am truly sorry for what’s transcribed in the past week. You seem to be handling it extraordinarily well though.”

     “You are, Daniel. And the sooner you understand that, the faster the healing process can begin.” He taps his pen on the notepad and digs into my soul with his eyes. I look away. “Okay, so I need to ask you some questions. They’re just procedures. We have to ask them to anyone that has survived a catastrophic event. So—” He flips the page of his notepad. “—Any trouble sleeping?”

     “Any nightmares?”

     “Random fits of anxiety or depression?”

     “Suicidal thoughts?”

     He marks off everything and turns his attention back to me. I start to fidget. I want out of here. I hate shrinks. I don’t hate the psychologists themselves, just the concept behind the shrink. It’s just not me.

     I gulp and sit back down, knowing damn well who it is and also knowing damn well that I’m not ready for this. Dr. Bickley picks up the cordless phone on his desk. “Yes, put the General on the line. General Carper, yes.”

     “Daniel, Daniel! Oh God I thought you were dead. I heard about the outbreak and…” He trails off and he knows that I’m there but he also remembers what I said to him at the pond when he left. Again. That I wasn’t talking to him. And I’m trying to keep that promise, but deep down I know that I can’t. That I can’t because he’s my dad and he loves me and he has his own problems to sort out just like me, but at the end of the day he’s still my dad and nothing will ever change that.

     “Dad.”

________

Epilogue

The sun beat down on Santiago’s bare back. He was tired, hot, achy. But he couldn’t go back to the village, to the slums. He had no space in the village, no freedom to move. Out here, along the coast, as he waded through the beautiful shallows with the fine sand molding around his toes and the fish brushing against his legs, he had freedom. He could just swim out here all day.

     Santiago glanced towards the mangrove forest along the shore and something caught his eye. A suspicious black cloth tangled in the branches. Curious, the boy swam to the mangroves, careful to not step on any lurking stingrays along the way. Once he got there, he gently untangled the cloth from the branches and held it up to his face so he could get a good look at it.

     “Santiago! My son! I have missed you today.”

     His father unfolded the shirt, setting down his son creasing out the wrinkles. “It reads… Coldplay. That is what it says.”

[tab][/tab]And then he itched his eye.

[richlands24]

Dude, the epilogue was a really good way to start it off! This as a whole, is the best story(yet) on CoDz. Keep writing, my friend.

[MyLittleHellhound]

Good god lemonade this is one of the best stories I have ever ever read. And it's done. And someone itched his eye tsk tsk! Ah, it's finally done. Congratulations and great job man, you earned my brains, [brains]

[piepwns]

If you wanted to, you could definitely keep going with a sequel. You wouldn't have to make it zombie related, but you could always do a zombie outbreak at Ft. Bragg. I'm still amazed at your writing skills, There are world-famous authors I've read books of you don't nearly compare to your writing skill. I encourage you to keep going with this, but I can respect if you decide to move on to a new story.

[darkflareon]

This has taken me ages to read but I loved every moment. I can't think of any way to improve this it was and is amazing.

-Flareon

[perfectlemonade]

Thank you guys so, so much. It really means a lot to hear such positive feedback! I never thought Sinking would end up where it is today, but here we are!

If you wanted to, you could definitely keep going with a sequel. You wouldn't have to make it zombie related, but you could always do a zombie outbreak at Ft. Bragg. I'm still amazed at your writing skills, There are world-famous authors I've read books of you don't nearly compare to your writing skill. I encourage you to keep going with this, but I can respect if you decide to move on to a new story.

A zombie outbreak at Ft. Bragg? Kind sir, you must be a psychic because that is exactly what I had in mind.

Haven't even started writing it yet, but I think the sequel will be huge. Novel-length. So much so that I may need to add at least another 100 pages to Sinking to make them both novels and maybe, just maybe, get it in print sometime down the road...

Again, thank you all so much for the kind words. It makes me feel all fuzzy inside when I see people posting that they love it, that's it's the best story on the site, that's it's the best story they've ever read. Thank you to everyone that has stuck with me throughout this story. MyLittleHellhound, Piepwns, Ehjookayted, and everyone else: I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Now, off to work on the outlining of the sequel.

-perfect

[JakeDuck]

I have not read this in a while, and I must say that was one of the best stories I have read. the ending was wonderful, please continue this!

I found a funny error in chapter 8. “No! You can’t do this to me! You can do this to my brother!” Either there is an error here, or Daniel is a dick. :lol:

[perfectlemonade]

I have not read this in a while, and I must say that was one of the best stories I have read. the ending was wonderful, please continue this!

I found a funny error in chapter 8. “No! You can’t do this to me! You can do this to my brother!” Either there is an error here, or Daniel is a dick.

Ah thanks! I'll be sure to fix that!

I have continued with this story arc. It picks up a few months after the events of Sinking. I'm trying my best to make the voice a little more mature and to slow it down some, though it still gets hectic at times. Here it is:

viewtopic.php?f=14&t=23588

Thanks for the feedback! It means a lot. :)