The Boat by Christine Dougherty Page B

harder. They were going to make it.
    He pounded down the pier, counting the footfalls behind him: Dave, Jade, Singer, Brian…they were all going to make it.
    The boats bobbed complacently at their tethers. Steve stopped ten feet short, ushering everyone past him with a wave of his arm, and looked back the way they had come. The first of the walking dead were just now shuffling onto the pier. They had time. Enough. He turned it time to see Dave and Brian lifting Jade into the larger boat.
    Dave jumped into the smaller boat and stationed himself at the oars while Brian did the same in the larger boat. Jade had gone to the rear, her hand on the engine, ready to push the button that would bring it to life.
    Singer looked back at Steve. “Come on!” he said and stepped forward. But he missed his footing and stepped between the pier and the edge of the boat, sinking, hitting his chin on the way down.
    Steve stared in shock at the place Singer had been a split second before. He’d gone down so fast; it was like an optical illusion, a pratfall.
    Then Jade’s scream sliced into his shocked consciousness and he was moving, throwing himself belly down on the pier, reaching down.
    Singer’s head broke the water and he reached for Steve’s hand, but in his panic, he missed his grip and flailed wildly.
    “Singer, take my hand!” Steve said and was aware of the rowboat rocking furiously as Brian advanced to help. Singer’s panicked waving finally put his arm within Steve’s grasp and Steve pulled, dragging Singer from the water. Brian pulled too and Singer slid like a leaded eel into the rowboat.
    Then Steve felt hands grasping greedily on his outstretched legs.
    He rolled, kicking and cursing. A woman was chewing on his jeans over his heavy work boot. He kicked reflexively with his other foot, connecting with her face. It sloughed off like a thick, spongy mask, taking her nose and lips with it. She lifted her head, her face a blackish ruin, her jollily rolling eyeballs seeming to bulge from their black sockets.
    Her teeth were soft, chalky ruins that crumbled and fell across Brian’s leg. She bent to bite again.
    Rough hands gripped Steve’s shoulders and a scream ripped its way into his throat but then he realized it was Dave, Dave pulling him into the safety of the rowboat.
    Dave threw off the line and kicked out, his foot connecting with the wood decking, sending the rowboat skittering crazily away from the pier. The woman that had been gnawing at Steve’s leg tumbled head first into the water and then three more corpses behind her also went in, becoming sinkers.
    Steve grabbed the oars and pulled, taking them further from the pier. He glanced behind him and saw the boat with Singer, Jade and Brian cruising steadily in the direction of ThreeBees.
    Good. They had made it.
    He glanced back at Dave and Dave was huddled over himself, arms crossed over his stomach. He was moaning.
    “Dave, are you bit? Did they bite you?”
    Steve’s arms went slack on the oars. “Dave?” he said. “Hey, man…are you…are you bit?” His voice had dropped, chilled and aching.
    Dave glanced up, grimacing. “No, they didn’t bite me. You fucking kicked me in the nuts, you asshole. I think I’m gonna fucking puke.” He moaned again.
    Steve was shocked to feel laughter bubbling up from his stomach and he laughed despite himself. It was a short bark of amusement and then he threw a hand over his mouth.
    Dave looked up again, his face sour. “You sound like a goddamned seal, you know that?”
    They both broke up laughing. It carried across the water to the ThreeBees and at the railing, Maggie tilted her head in confusion.
    Across the water, at the end of the pier, the undead did the same.
     
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Jade sat on the deck bench of ThreeBees, shivering.
    Maggie draped a sweatshirt over Jade’s shoulders and took her chin in her hand. She tilted Jade’s face up and looked into her eyes.
    “Do you feel like you’re