The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island (6 page)

I was proved right. I spotted the dilapidated hulk of a fishing boat or some kind of yacht nestled amongst the sea vegetation perched across the reef, some fifty yards from our position. The vessel must have taken the same route as us in the past and beached itself on the reef. Several more ragged figures drifted out from the boat and began making their way towards us. Maybe they had a sense of the smell of us or they could simply detect our movement in the water, I wasn’t sure.

Smith floated alongside me and I knew he was also aware of the impending danger. I started to seriously wonder if the damn spear guns were going to be enough to hold off the dozen or so undead coming at us. We could have swum upward and tried to get back on the boat but we’d be chancing our luck in case the zombies caught up and started to bite away at us before we broke the surface.

A large dark mass momentarily blocked out the sunlight and I glanced upward. I saw a huge silver backed shark turn in the water and bite the head off the undead man that Smith had previously shot with his spear gun. The remaining stump of the zombie’s neck seemed to erupt with blood, floating in all directions in spiraling veins.

More large, man-eating fish emerged through the waters, obviously curious and motivated by the smell of blood.

Smith and I now had two problems to contend with. A bunch of man-eating sharks and a horde of man-eating zombies.

Chapter Eight

I tapped Smith on the shoulder and pointed up at the sharks circling above us. One of the huge fish took the headless zombie’s corpse between its teeth and shook it like a rag doll. More blood and bodily fluids seeped out of the torso, turning the sea around it into a light pink cloud. Smith nodded and pointed at his spear gun. He made a fork sign with his fingers towards his mask and then pointed at the approaching undead. Obviously, he was more concerned with zombies than sharks. For the moment, anyhow.

My air intake increased. The gurgling noise from my mouthpiece worked overtime and a rapid succession of air bubbles fizzed around me and rose swiftly to the surface. I tried to stay as calm as I could but I knew the sharks now had the taste for blood. They were on the look-out for more food. We couldn’t allow the undead to draw too close, not only did they pose their own threat but the sharks would also pick up on their rotting scent and go into a feeding frenzy, biting into anything that moved, including us.

Smith aimed and fired another spear shot at the leading zombie, a gray faced man who was clad in nothing more than a pair of faded red shorts. The spear zipped through the side of his head and he briefly ceased moving through the water before floating upward slightly, with his arms flailing in the moving tide. A plume of blood drifted from the head wound, floating closer towards the pack of sharks.

One of the huge fish turned in the water, flipping its tail and kind of waggling its head from side to side. The shark moved closer to the second dead man, turned on its side slightly and bit into the side of the torso, gripping, then biting again twice in quick succession.

Although the scene was shit-your-pants scary, it was also awesome to watch these huge predators of the sea in action.

The shark’s unrelenting attack severed both the corpse’s legs and the body parts drifted downwards towards the seabed, producing wisps of rising blood as they sank.

The undead fanned out slightly across the water, making it more difficult to keep track of them. The sharks separated from their close knit pack, darting away in different directions to investigate the vicinity.

The situation was rapidly heading out of control with zombies and killer sharks looming in all directions. We couldn’t make it back to the boat now. The sharks would be on us before we made it halfway up. I glanced skyward and saw the black bottom of the sea boat shimmering on the surface to the right. I estimated we were somewhere around thirty yards away from the boat. Not far in the grand scheme of things but too far with the dilemmas we faced.

Adding to our problems, shooting the zombies with the spear guns posed its own setback. Although the barbed weapons stopped the undead in their tracks, the process created a torrent of blood through the sea, attracting more sharks to our location. It didn’t seem to bother the man-eaters that the undead flesh was rotten; in fact they seemed to be enjoying the taste.

I spotted a zombie, a female in the remnants of a bright blue bikini approaching us, clawing her way across the surface of the reef. I aimed the spear gun, never having fired an underwater weapon before and released the trigger. The thing had a kickback like a normal firearm and my aim was suspect at best.

The spear zipped through the sea and hit the undead woman, sending her reeling back and upwards. However, the shot was not good enough for a kill, as the spear had lodged into the center of her throat. Blood seeped from the wound but the injury didn’t stop the undead woman from attempting to thrash her way through the water towards us. Her face was clearer now, a decaying gray mask of horror, white pupils wide and yellow teeth gnashing, her auburn hair billowing around her head.

I reached around to my quiver of spare ammunition and took out a replacement spear. I tried to reload but had difficulty in jamming the spear back into the readied position. The mechanism seemed cumbersome and hard to cock. I had little time to figure out the reloading method and felt panic spreading within me. An unloaded gun was as useless as a rolled up newspaper under the sea. Smith had given me a crash course in using the diving equipment but nobody had thought to give me a rundown on how a damn spear gun worked.

A smaller shark, with slightly mottled skin below the dorsal fin, zoomed seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed the undead woman between its teeth. It took the zombie back across the reef, leaving a trail of rising blood in its wake. The shark tuned back out to sea and I lost sight of it in the shimmering depths.

I sincerely hoped Smith had some kind of plan. I was totally out of my zone and to coin a phrase – like a fish out of water.

In my haste to reload the spear gun, I somehow managed to stab myself in my left hand with the barbed point. The spear slipped from my clutches and sank away between a thick sprout of sea weed. A slow trail of blood drifted in front of my face. I’d once heard that sharks could smell the faintest scent of blood within their locale. The thought didn’t improve my increasingly agitated state. 

I tapped Smith on his shoulder then flapped my hand in a gesture of confusion at the weapon in my grasp. I showed him the cut on my hand. To reiterate our predicament, I waved around at our surroundings then pointed at the boat above us.

Smith seemed to understand what I meant. He pointed skyward at the bottom of the sea boat and made a cut-throat gesture. A no go. He took the spear gun from me and reloaded it with ease. He handed me back the weapon, forked at his eyes and pointed back to the reef.

To me, keeping eyes on the problem didn’t seem much of a plan. Before the dive, Smith said we’d have forty minutes of air. Plenty for a ten minute exploration of the ship’s hull. He also said that if you breathe rapidly, the air will expend at a quicker rate.

We were stuck down below the sea with our backs to the crippled ship’s hull and zombies and sharks all over the damn place. To add to my woes, I was breathing like a birth mother, hastily using up the remaining air in my tank.

Chapter Nine

I tapped Smith again and he turned his head towards me. By the stern look in his eyes, I knew the action had irritated him. I pointed at the small gauge attached to the air tanks. The black needle hovered dangerously over the red zone on the indicator dial.

Smith studied his own air gauge and I also took a look. His tank was only around half used up. I guessed he was a damn sight calmer than I was.

We couldn’t stay where we were, that was for sure. If we were incredibly lucky, the sharks might disperse back further into the sea but the undead wouldn’t cease coming at us until they’d picked our bones clean.

A naked male zombie, with a large gut and a bald head, swum around the side of the reef towards us. His right thigh skimmed against the reef’s rocks, ripping away a strip of puffy gray flesh. His large stomach and shoulders were peppered with human teeth marks, obviously from an attack some while ago. I aimed my newly loaded spear gun at the approaching target and squeezed the trigger. I figured with a target that large and at close proximity, I couldn’t fail to miss.

As usual, my optimism was soon crushed. The spear whooshed through the water and did hit the target but with treacherous consequences. The barbed point rammed through the flesh of the zombie’s bulging gut. I didn’t know if the guy had been dead underwater so long that the body had swollen and produced internal gases but his whole stomach burst like a beach balloon under the impact from the spear. A cluster of brown, bubbles erupted from the gaping wound, along with a decaying, gray jumble of bodily organs.

The mass of stale meat floating in every direction seemed to send the sharks into a crazy frenzy. They zigzagged around in swift circles, crossing each other’s paths and scooping up pieces of flesh in their teeth.

This time, Smith tapped me on the shoulder and pointed towards the reef beyond the warship’s damaged hull. He motioned with his head at the rocky atoll and swam towards it. I reluctantly followed, not knowing what kind of extreme tactics Smith was ready to deploy.

I glanced nervously all around me, gripping the unloaded spear gun as my only defense.

Smith swum low against the reef’s surface and I followed his lead. I didn’t know if it was a purposeful maneuver or whether he was simply keeping a close eye on the contours underneath us. We didn’t want to suddenly find another large gap opening out below with more dangers to contend with.

A ghostly white face, with wide eyes and snapping jaws suddenly emerged between the long leaves of a sea plant a few feet to my left. I instinctively jerked away to my right, attempting to gain some space between the grasping creature and myself. The seawater slowed my movement and the ghoul reached out with scrawny hands, grabbing at my left arm. I thrashed around, trying to release the firm grip of decaying fingers but only succeeded in rolling onto my back. The undead woman’s face drew near to my facemask as she snapped her jaws in repetitive forward lunges. The remains of a white summer dress billowed around her body and her reddish-brown hair drifted around her head like some kind of weird sea plant.

My air tank clanked against the reef’s surface while the female zombie pinned me down, scrabbling around on top of me. Air bubbles erupted around us from my intense breathing. I jammed the spear gun lengthways beneath the woman’s chin and pushed her head upwards so the gnashing teeth pointed to the water’s surface.

I allowed myself a brief glance around me and saw Smith disappearing from view across the reef. He still watched the area above him and hadn’t noticed I’d been ambushed. I was going to have to win this particular battle unaided.

The undead woman’s hands fumbled dangerously close to my mouthpiece and mask, threatening to tear them both away from my face. I turned and tilted my head backwards, desperately trying to avoid the reach of those gnarled hands ripping away my air supply. I released my right hand from the stock of the spear gun, grabbed hold of the ghoul’s left hand and twisted outwards with all the strength I could muster. I heard an audible crack of bone but a broken wrist wouldn’t stop the relentless zombie attack.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed more of the undead plodding in a kind of doggy paddle through the water, heading across the reef to my position. I knew I was dead if a few of them joined in the scuffle. They’d either eat me or drown me or a combination of both.

I kept the spear gun jammed hard beneath the woman’s chin with my left hand. Her right hand pinched and pulled at the rubber wetsuit around my left shoulder. The ghoul’s left hand didn’t quite operate as normal due to the broken wrist but the bony fingers, resembling a bunch of rotten bananas, still battered at the front of my facemask.

I was going to have to get out of this situation and in real quick time.

I knocked away the woman’s crippled left hand with my right and reached around my torso. The spear holder was still in place strapped to my body. I felt for the back end of one of the metal shafts and pulled out a single spear. I slid my hand halfway down the shaft and tightly gripped the metal rod. I waited a beat, withdrew my left hand holding the gun, stretching my arm out wide. The ghoul’s head lowered and she opened her mouth wide. I aimed the barbed spike at the rotting face and thrust the spear forward in a stabbing motion.