THE BOAT RIDE...PT. 1
JUNE 12
It had been 30 days since it all began. It went out on shortwave before the rest of the world started to notice… or at least until the PTB decided to tell the world that something was wrong. He had always known what he was going to do as soon as the alarm was sent. It was the curse and blessing of being in the Great Lakes State. There were very few paths of escape when you were surrounded by water except through the majority of the state’s population. He knew there was no real security, not long term at least that would keep them from the door. Michigan had woods and water, what it lacked was steep mountains and deep valleys that would offer areas where forting up was a possibility. And, while the Upper Peninsula had the benefit of being surrounded by water but for a few hundred miles of common Wisconsin border, there, there were too few people to be able to guard against infected coming across and eventually getting into the population. He had made a plan and followed it. He made use of the waters of Lake Huron, and the twenty-three thousands of square miles of water to hide in. The original plan was for the family to hide and wait it out until order was restored by the governmental powers. The government knew about it, should have been able to get a handle on it, but they were too late, they didn’t. Plans change.
No one ever actually called it a zombie apocalypse. It was called a rare disease outbreak, a madness disease, whatever you wanted to call it but one thing was for sure, no dead had risen from their graves. No wandering creatures shambled over the landscape muttering “Brains.” No ghostly apparitions had been seen prior to the falling of the nation. It was a spinoff mutation of a new strain of rabies as the victims frothed and suffered terribly while they violently attacked the normal people. They also attacked and mauled each other on a regular basis when no “clean” people were there to feed whatever need the infected answered to. This raised a series of questions because it threw all the alleged zombie experts into a tizzy about the infected sometimes attacking each other and then sometimes not. They also did not die off as quickly as rabies victims would. There did not appear to be even a moderate mortality rate to the disease, at least not figured out by the time the last broadcast was made.
Scientists finally discovered that whether or not they attacked each other had to do with who had infected whom. If the virus strain could be traced back to a common host infector then there was no attack to those who followed in the lineage, that would be like attacking family. But if two of the infected came against each other that had no affiliation, they attacked each other the same as if they were the uninfected. This meant they would destroy each other given enough time until only one line of virus was the sole survivor along with all the infected progeny… but that now could take years.
The source of the infection remained a mystery. There was no discovery of a patient “Zero”. There was however a great conjecture about shipments of monkeys from the same jungle in a lesser part of Africa that were delivered to various zoos across the United States and Canada. It was later discovered the same source for the monkeys was responsible for shipments to Germany, Spain, Brazil and Hong Kong. The virus stayed dormant for several weeks as if mutating or gaining strength off of its new environment, but when it finally broke out the effects were indeed felt worldwide. The virus origination footprint was why they looked at the monkeys as the source.
The W.H.O. had broadcast warnings and instructions how to cope and deal with the issue, but it was too late, in every civilized area of the world the infected had overwhelmed the capabilities of medical and emergency services. All it took was a bite, and while the bug lay dormant for weeks before breaking out, the time between infection to full blown crazy was somewhere between fifteen minutes to an hour depending on the physical fitness of the individual as well as the strength of the immune system. And, one person could literally bite fifty in the initial spate of madness, and with that capability the spread was exponential in numbers and rapidity.
He had made the calls to his children and as they had been raised they acted. They were packed and headed home within 2 hours of the call, putting them far in front of the rest of the masses. The 2 boys and their families arrived within 6 hours of the call to come home. That was when the serious packing began. Camping gear, freeze dried food, fishing and hunting gear, guns and ammo along with all the personal products required to try to maintain sanity in a world that would soon go mad. With the trucks and trailers loaded he and his wife left the house that had been a great home for over 40 years. If the government got a handle on things they hoped to return in a month or so. If not……
It was another 2 hour drive to the large marina sitting on the shore of Lake Huron up in the area called Thunder Bay. It was no mistake or accident that lead him to the location of his choice of boat. He had been exploring and talking to marina operators for months and even years before the event. Every now and then he would dedicate himself to the chore of looking to see what was out there acting as a potential boat buyer. He had a checklist in mind as he shopped and one of them was that there would be zero chance of the owners ever making it to their boat if the bad happened. It was still in its slip when they arrived.
A Perry 45-foot catamaran was sitting there with all the canvas covers in place and a fair amount of sand and blown grass indicated it had not been out recently. The name said the boat was called “HIGH WINDS” and was out of Chicago. It was not at all unusual for the rich and famous to leave their boats at various places along the Michigan coast and then fly back and forth from home. In this case the owners had been trying to sell the boat for months. The marina operator had told him they would never sell it until they dropped the price about $100,000. As he put it “It is a good boat but it ain’t like its new.” But, so long as they paid their bills, he would keep the tanks filled and start and run the systems every week. There were a few curious onlookers standing around at the far end of the marina as the covers were pulled back and the system checked, the batteries were up and the tanks were full. Within the hour all the gear was stowed and the boat fully explored so there would be no surprises and the lines were cast off and they headed out into the great inland sea of Lake Huron.
It was the end of the first week adrift and the radio started reporting the madness that was developing at an unbelievable rate. All airports and modes of public transportation were shut down and commercial broadcasts became intermittent within 2 weeks. Meanwhile, an almost idyllic lifestyle had set in for other than the slight claustrophobic close quarters they were doing well. The family was learning quickly the tricks of sailing. Everybody fished and using the GPS navigational system they maintained position just short of crossing into the boundary for Canada while the quiet hum of the radar system covered the Lake for 20 miles all around.
At first, they would see one to maybe 5 boats a day headed east towards Canada. Whether or not they were seen as they lay dormant in the water was not indicated as the boats did not veer from their course. Then as the time moved on sightings grew less frequent to the point where they were very alone on a very empty sea. Canada with its lower population numbers had managed to fend off the infection longer than the US had and it was from there they received most information. The world had taken a very grim turn for the much worse as the infected spread the contagion much faster than the military or police could eradicate them. One of the plus signs though was the infected could be killed like any other person. No special head shot was required as it would on a true zombie. You shot them in the chest, heart, lungs, spine, they died.
Chaos was pretty much the report that came over the radio every day and night. The only active stations anymore were coming from way north of the cities, up by Sudbury and North Bay, and even they were advising they had no idea how much longer they would be operable. They had been broadcasting to those who could make it to get to Hurst and then they could take the train to Moosonee hard against the shores of James Bay. Access to the remote wilderness town was controlled by the train and planes and they would be screened for carriers before ever being allowed to travel there. They also advised that if possible the people should just take to the rivers and put distance between themselves and the infected until the authorities, or at least what was left of them could sort it out.
By the 4th week radio broadcasts were almost nonexistent although the occasional shortwave broadcast was received and the outlook was bleak. They had originally taken a position out of the shipping lanes so they could avoid notice by the Great Lakes freighters that seemed almost oblivious to the goings on in the world for the first two weeks. But eventually there were no ripplings on the big water that could be attributed to the passage of the ore or grain laden ships. Now staying unseen was paramount to maintaining safety.
There had only been one incident of what might have been contemplated as piracy about the 3rd week into their routine when a 21-foot open motorboat came roaring over the horizon headed towards Canada and when it saw them it veered off course towards the Cat. He had seen it coming long before they saw him as they kept a radar vigil that saw the boat long before eyes could.
He allowed them to approach to hailing distance before he fired the flare across their bow. He could see the five men arguing about something and then one of them yelled they were going to come aboard. He told them to stay where they were. It was only 50 yards away. The boat spokesman sounded harsh and indicated that they were in need of food and water and it would be cruel to make them go on without supplies. He told them that there was no way they were coming aboard and that if they came any closer they would be fired upon. That is when one of the men who had remained silent brought up a rifle and started to bring it to his shoulder, when his head exploded in a shower of brain and bone and blood. The men in the boat did not see one of his sons behind the wheelhouse with the scoped M1A match grade sniper rifle. Another man grabbed for the dropped gun and he too had his head exploded. The remainder froze in place. They only knew that death was swift and accurate to anyone posing a threat. He yelled to them that they could either leave or all be killed but in either case they would be gone. He also advised them that they were not to deviate their course away or turn around and think they could make an approach in the dark. If they came back there would be no warnings. They would all die.
He thought they had learned their lesson as they motored away slowly. Then, once they passed over 1000 yards they stopped and parked their boat. He watched them as they dumped the dead men overboard. Then he was watching them watching him through binoculars. He called to his other son to bring out the Weatherby. On the standard Weatherby action a Shilen heavy barrel had been threaded and it was topped with a 6-20X Shepherd scope mated to the .340 Wby caliber for which the rifle was chambered. He went prone on the back deck resting the front of the rifle on a life jacket and timed the gentle role of the waves. With the scope cranked to 20X he could clearly see the men who thought they were safe. It was a moral dilemma. He had told them there were consequences for not following his orders. Yet, he could not bring himself to kill outright the men who were no longer a threat to him or his family. With the scope he readjusted his range estimate to just shy of 1200yds. Distance over water was always difficult. No problem, just a little more Kentucky windage would be required. The load was a Sierra 300gr Matchking bullet that looked like a knitting needle. It would break from the barrel at a sedate 2800fps.
The first shot, the cold shot was always the toughest but his target was larger than normal. With his timing down he touched the trigger. The gun let forth with a horrendous boom as the McArthur brake bled the gas off making the recoil just a gentle push. The bullet was sent on its way. He saw the results through the scope before he heard the report back of the bullet crashing into the Johnson 200 horsepower motor that was the source of the power for their boat. He worked the bolt as he saw the men scrambling to get out of sight because they thought he was shooting at them, not the motor. He launched another round and again was rewarded with a clanging return on his hit. One of the men popped up with a look of fear and hatred on his face. He knew what the target was. The man leaped to the controls and tried to get the motor started as a third bullet ripped into the motor head. Through the scope he could see the motor belching smoke and then evidently because of a gas line leak it started to burn. The remainder of the men frantically threw water onto the motor as they fought to extinguish the flames before the whole boat went up. They were still working at it when he had his boys motor away over the horizon.
August 1st.
They had heard nothing from anyone on the commercial bands but short wave still occasionally had reports of small protected enclaves where people who had lots of guns and knew how to use them and geography that worked in their favor. They were never reports to build hopes on and none of them seemed to be located in Michigan. Mankind was circling the drain. Meanwhile, other than the one incident with the would be pirates he had managed to spare his family the horror taking place on land. There, life would be moments lived in constant terror and fear of what was to come next. The downside of his planning was that it had been so good his family had not had to face the real world so they had not toughened up any more than necessarily needed to live long term on a basically fish based diet. It was a trade off he was willing to deal with down the road when things did get tougher as he knew they eventually would.
They had major decisions to make and make them shortly. They had done well conserving on fuel and still had their tanks more than ¾ full. He figured that meant he could get another 5-600 miles of power running so long as he wasn’t pushing heavy winds. He was sure there would be fuel waiting in tanks throughout the Great lakes if one had the desire to go ashore and try to find it. But, that meant going to places where there had been people, and people uninfected or infected could be a threat. They had become quite adept at sailing and it held no more mysteries but for what they would have to do it would require surgical precision. The storms that rolled across the Lake during that summer had proved to them the seaworthiness of their boat and their skill at handling the heavy weather.
They discussed it at as they sat on the deck at night watching the small fire in the cooker. Several times they had put in at various uninhabited islands that dot the western edge along Georgian Bay. There they stretched their legs, let the dogs enjoy relieving themselves as they were supposed to do. They even collected 3 island deer and some partridge on the excursions. It was a great change from all the fish. BUT they always were back on the boat and well away before dark. They used wood to cook their meals to save the propane for in the future when they could not take the chance to scavenge wood. They collected about ten cord of dried wood that would keep them going for a while. Who knew when they would set foot on land again.
They had made the decision that was the only rational one they could make. They could not winter on the boat out in the Great Lakes. So they either had to get back to shore or take the boat where it would be warm.
Going ashore meant having to locate shelter and having the ability to stock and protect and hope that they were not discovered by anyone. The possibility did not sound that far fetched as most of the population had been displaced from many areas of the state either in flight or by dying. But, that first initial setting foot upon the ground near a shelter would have so many risks. Then there was the necessity of supplies even if they did find a secure hole in the ground in which to hide and defend. Winter in Michigan could be harsh and without relief for months at a time during which all travel on foot would be measured in yards not miles and game could disappear as the ground did under the blanket of snow. Even if safe from the ravages of the infected they could realistically starve to death. No, the rational choice, the only real choice was to stay on the boat and relocate.
The Carolinas, Florida, the Keys, the Gulf or the islands of the Bahamas all were within their reach but it was also the biggest risk. That meant they would have to maneuver the St. Clair River down past Detroit into Lake Erie and then on to the Welland canal and only hope beyond belief that it was still passable and working. They were under no illusion about what could happen. The St. Clair River was only a few hundred feet wide and even at its widest it was still well into rifle range from either bank if there were hostiles intent on raiding them as they made their passage, 40 miles of unknowns and possibles. When on the river, would they be attacked by the infected still wandering around or would they be attacked by people trying to survive just like them?
When they got to the Welland canal at the jump between Erie and Ontario, if it wasn’t working or there was no one there to work it, could they still make it work? His sons were engineers and if there was any way possible to make the locks work they could figure it out. The trip would be filled with doubts and even if they made it to the St. Lawrence and out to the ocean could they make it south along the coast and what would they find and do when they did get there? It didn’t matter. They couldn’t stay where they were.
Maybe if he had been smarter they would have run for it the minute they had the boat loaded, knowing that they would eventually have to make that choice, but that was not the original plan. The plan was to be safe until the government got back in charge. NO, the boat was a logical choice to get the protection they needed. Plans change. Situations change. Now, they had to move to another plan, a new plan. Back at the start of the trouble, potentially it could have meant a running battle from the time they entered the St. Clair until they were out to sea, and even then, there were no guarantees and the odds would have been much more against them than they would be now.
He checked his charts and the GPS which still functioned and he gave his son a heading and they set sail for Port Huron and what lay beyond. They sailed south down the lake and watched as the ship board radar started picking up shoreline closing in on the sides. As Port Huron came into view it was still as a cemetery. Not even the infected were moving about, tempting one to put in and see how the real world was enduring. He looked up as they passed under the Blue Water Bridge and they entered the maw of the river and it swallowed them into its own special hell.
THE BOAT RIDE Pt.1
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