The Swiss Family RobinZOM (3 page)

T
he beach wrapped all the way from the southern point to the
western shore. The sand was a golden brown, darkened by the heavy
rain, which was fortunate as it made pushing the cart much easier.
Bill led them to the edge of the beach that met the jungle. He
kneeled down at a gap between the trees, scanning the grass, tree
roots and snapped twigs. Unseen exotic birds, the hiss of reptiles
and chitter of bugs spoke to him from the jungle. Bill pushed his
fedora back with his thumb. Ernest and Fritz stood over their
father with their weapons raised high, staring into the dark abyss
of the jungle. Jack stood behind his brothers, clutching his police
baton more with a sense of fear than malice.

“
What is it,
Pa?” Fritz said.

“
There are no
footprints,” Bill said. “Either no survivors found their way onto
shore, or the rain washed their footprints away.”

Bill turned and led them
down the beach to the seafront. The
cruise ship was colossal, twenty floors high and a football
pitch long. It had ‘Pandora’ written across its front in a flowing
font. It had been bent and lacerated on both sides as if it had
been in some kind of collision and then rusted over. It looked like
it had a large port wine stain. It leaned to one side, and when
they rounded the boat they found the reason why. The ship had
impaled itself on a large rock in the bay, and where it had struck,
the hull had split open. As the tide came in, it washed inside the
boat’s hull and tugged on the crates loaded there. A steady stream
of crate breadcrumbs floated on the tide out to sea.

“
Shall I go get
them?” Fritz said.

“
No,” Bill said. “Let’s
take a look at what’s inside these crates, shall we?”

Fritz and Ernest seized a
crate that was a few yards offshore and carried it onto the
beach.
The wood was damp and soft. Bill
jammed the tip of his machete into the gap between the top and side
panel and lifted it. The nails squeaked as it was pried open. Bill
reached inside and came out with silk pillows.

“
At least we’re going to
sleep comfortably,” Bill said.

Bill peered
inside the hull. There were a series of perhaps
two dozen stacked crates. Chains that hung from the ceiling clinked
together.

“
I don’t like this,” Bill
said. “Anything could be behind those crates. Let’s get them out of
here first and see what we find.”

They
each pulled up the cloth covering their mouths and noses.
Jack kept watch while Fritz, Ernest and Bill waded into the knee
deep water in the hull, the water making soft shloshing noises.
Bill aimed a torch at the shadows before letting Fritz or Ernest
take a crate. They piled the crates up on the cart outside. Bill
heard the frantic buzzing of flies. He pulled the obstructing crate
aside and found the remains of what appeared to be a man’s arm. It
had been gnawed off at the shoulder, the bone protruding. Bill used
his machete to drag it outside and push it out to sea. The flies
followed it out.

“
Ernest,” Fritz said,
gesturing to the floating arm. “I think he’s performing the front
stroke.”

He beamed at his own wit.

“
Grow up,” Ernest
said.

“It’s just a joke.”

“
A man lost his life.
It’s nothing to be joking about.”

“
Oooo. Sor-ry. Pardon me
for trying to lighten the mood.”

“
You want to lighten the
mood? Shut up and give us a hand.”

Fritz
fought to keep the smile off his face.

“
Let’s get this show on
the road,” Bill said.

Bill checked the
contents of the bag that hung over his shoulder.
The boys held their weapons close. Fritz had a wooden baseball bat,
Ernest a golf club.

“
We’re right behind
you,
Pop,” Ernest said.

Bill
turned to Jack.

“
Jack,” he said, “I want
you to stay out here and watch our backs.”

“
Aw, man,” Jack said. “I
was stuck on watch duty while you guys were unloading. Can’t I come
with you this time?”

He was speaking from a
sense of fear as opposed to outrage. He didn
’t want to be left alone.

“
Do you realise how
important your role is?” Bill said. “If anything comes in after us,
we’ll be finished. You must protect us, Jack. Can you do
that?”

Jack nodded
and
, though still disappointed, spoke
with great gravity.

“
Yes,” he
said.

“
Good,” Bill said. “If
you get into any trouble at all you are to run in and shout for us,
all right?”

Jack nodded.

“
What about all the stuff
on board that might be useful to us?” Ernest said.

“
We can do a quick search
of the cabins on our way out,” Bill said. “On a boat this big there
could be hundreds of them, even thousands. If we sink the boat now,
we’ll be safe.”

“
What if there are
survivors on board?”

Bill was silent a moment.

“
Then I hope they can
swim,” he said.

Bill looked at each of his sons
in turn, nodded, and then led the way inside.

Four

Bill, Fritz and
Ernest
waded through the dark narrow
corridor. Rust ran along the inside of the walls like motorways on
a map. The darkness was punctured by sunlight that filtered in
through portholes along the wall. On the left were cabin doors,
some shut tight, others wide open. The water swallowing their feet
became shallow. There was a blood splatter on the wall, fragments
of bone jutting from clotted blood. At the end of the corridor was
a thick metal door that stood open. Bill swept his torch over the
space inside. There were blank computer terminals and large metal
containers.

Bill
unshouldered his pack and took out a foot long grey tube
and put it amongst the machinery. He attached an egg timer to it.
They moved to the far end of the room. Bill deposited another grey
tube. They came out of the engine room and moved back down the
corridor. Bill pushed open the door to the first cabin. It had two
sets of bunk beds, one on either side. The bedside tables had been
knocked over and the blankets lay on the floor.

“
Be quick,” Bill said.
“We’ve got thirty minutes to get clear of the boat.”

Ernest reached for the
magazines on the bed covers
and tucked
them into his backpack. In the tiny bathroom Fritz found a few
packs of hair gel and deodorant. They pushed open the doors to the
next room. It was a cleaning cupboard. Bill grabbed the bleach,
polish and bristle brushes. The next room was large and had a
single bed. There was a desk in the corner. Above it was a shelf
with hard and paperback books.

“
Jackpot,” Ernest said,
heading over and stuffing his bag.

“
Don’t you mean
Ernestpot?” Fritz said.

Bill opened a cupboard
and found a
row of men’s jackets. He
picked the best one and put it on. There were a series of packages
on the floor of the wardrobe tied with cute pink bows. Bill tore
them open. Inside he found a pink dress and cute sailor’s outfit
that looked like it was in Francis’s size.

“
We’ve got fifteen
minutes left,” Bill said.

They hustled down the
corridor, their feet and shins wet.
Their
movements disturbed the water, causing a door to drift open. There
was a rattling sound like a nail file rubbed against iron grating.
Bill and the boys stiffened, gripping their weapons in tight fists.
Bill peered into the room.

A man lay on the floor,
pinned down by a bed
’s frame. His dead
white eyes stared up at them. The man’s greasy hair was brushed
back from his head, and blue veins like ripe cheese stood out on
his forehead. His blood red lips opened and let out a deep guttural
groan that came from the depths of his soul. The sound was slow and
long. It reverberated down the metal corridors. The Lurcher’s call
was answered by a dozen others, and then two dozen, and then
innumerable. Some were close, others distant, but they all filled
the Robinsons with terror. Bill took out another grey tube and
tossed it onto the bed. Bill swung his machete and buried it in the
man’s head. A thin spurt of blood squirted over Bill’s trouser leg.
He removed his machete and they rushed down the
corridor.

“
Let’s
get out of here!” Bill said.

Bill and the boys
waded through the corridor, the low death rattle
of Lurchers near and far echoing up and down the cruise liner’s
innards. They passed a cabin, and the sound of a death groan grew
in volume. None of them turned to look back. They got to the cargo
hold. Fritz and Ernest took position beside the door. Bill reached
into his pack again and took out another grey tube and attached a
timer. He set it for five minutes. Bill slid the grey tube through
a link in a chain that hung from the ceiling. They ran out of the
cruise liner, where Jack stood waiting for them.

“
Everything go all
right?” Jack said.

“
We’ll see in a few
minutes,” Bill said.

“Did you find anything?”

As if in response, groans
from hundreds of throats issued up from the ship.
Jack
’s face turned pale. Fritz and Ernest
each grabbed a cart handle and pushed it along the beach back
toward the bridge.

“
It’s funny,” Fritz said.
“Despite the extra weight of the crates, the cart somehow feels
lighter.”

“
Miraculous,” Ernest
said.

High up on the cruise
liner, the silhouettes of dozens of figures pressed
against the railing, arms outstretched and
reaching for the departing flesh of the living.

Five

Bill and the
b
oys put fifty feet between themselves
and the cruise liner. Figures emerged from the hole, turning their
heads, looking around, and then ambling toward the
Robinsons.

“
We need to hold them
here,” Bill said. “We have to stop them from entering the jungle,
or we’ll never live in peace.”

The
Lurchers
’ movements were hesitant and
juddering, without a hint of grace. Many had broken or missing
limbs, adding to their grungy gait, but moved surprisingly fast.
Most of them wore summer holiday wear, the rest smart crimson
uniforms, adding a comical edge to the scene. There was a long
chain of them, perhaps fifteen in total, and more pouring out of
the hole in the ship’s hull.

“
Remember your training,”
Bill said. “Make calm, smooth motions. Nothing flashy. Stay
relaxed. Never panic. Jack, stay behind me at all times, all
right?”

Jack nodded, his eyes
wide
, hands gripping the baton tight. The
first Lurcher approached. It was a large man wearing a bright
Bermuda shirt. Bill brought his machete down across his neck. He
cut halfway through the flesh, the knife’s edge caught on the
undead’s larynx. Another two hacks, and the head was severed. The
body slumped to the ground. The thick congealed blood lay on top of
the sand, and wasn’t absorbed by it. Fritz met a female Lurcher.
She wore large sunglasses. He brought the baseball bat around. It
connected with the woman’s temple, the bat buried in her skull. She
looked at him with an element of confusion. Fritz pulled the bat
free and hit her again. This time she went down. The third Lurcher,
wearing a huge pair of baggy shorts, approached Ernest. Bill’s
heart was in his throat. Only once the Lurcher was down, his head
caved in, did Bill breathe again. The Lurchers were disembarking
from the ship faster now, forming tight bunches of twos and
threes.

“
When will they go off?”
Fritz said. “Do you think there’s a problem with them?”

“
I don’t know,” Bill
said. “They should go off any min-”

KA-BOOM!
KA-BOOM!

The two
explosions happened in quick succession. The
boat shuddered. A large hole was rent from the stern. The Lurchers
pivoted on the spot to look back at the noise’s origin. Bill, Fritz
and Ernest leapt forward and beat at the Lurchers. They fell to the
sand. Overcoming their stupor, the remaining Lurchers turned and
stumbled toward Bill and his sons.

“
Form up!” Bill
said.

They formed a line, and
as the Lurcher
s approached, the Robinsons
pulled back their weapons. The Lurchers raised their arms toward
Ernest and Fritz, but the Robinsons fell on them. A large male
Lurcher with exposed chest, and what looked like female breasts,
fell to the ground at Fritz’s feet. The Lurcher opened his mouth to
bite, but Ernest was there, and buried his golf club in its head.
Fritz nodded his thanks.

“
Bloody ankle biters,”
Fritz said.

KA-BOOM!

T
he cruise liner leaned over dangerously to one side. The
Lurchers pressed up against the deck’s railing spilled over the
side. Some landed on their heads, which exploded like watermelons.
Others fell in the water, feet unable to find the bottom, and were
swept up with the tide and taken out to sea. But most landed in the
shallows, got to their feet and limped onto the beach. The cruise
ship was on fire amidships, the flames licking the porthole
windows. The stern dipped lower into the sea, lifting the bow up
out of the water and into the air.