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DAMOCLES Chapter 2
The proud ship parted the waves before her like a hot knife through butter, a blustering gale pushed the Damocles faster than she had any right to expect….
As a new day began on the 16th of March., Chris was grinning, smiling wildly like a loon, because for the first time in over thirty years he was sure of his path.
He gripped the wheel tightly, salt spray plastered his hair to his face and caused his eyes to sting in the twilight hegemony of dawn...still he smiled. The skipper was out cold, the rum which Chris had smuggled onto the ship had served its purpose. The skippers insensate snoring reverberating still around the galley he had claimed as his bed.
That had led him to here; utilising all the skills he had accumulated over the past week, he managed by no small amount of luck to not only lower the sails but also to raise the anchor and steer the ship roughly towards shore. Not that the last part was particularly difficult, there was a lot of ocean and not so much land, and so the Damocles moved inexorably towards her fate and dry land…
On pier 19 Herbert Yardley looked out to sea for the umpteenth time since becoming trapped in here with the other survivors from the harbour rescue centre. Twenty two deadmen walking, well not quite, there were three ladies but that wasn’t quite as good a mental image, he mused to himself in yet another moment of despair.
Looking at his surroundings Herbert had to stifle a grin, of all the places to be trapped, a bloody medical waste depot. More than one of his fellow captives had fainted at the body parts contained within. Being British by birth and English by the grace of god, Herbert had adjusted to the new world order surprisingly well. After all at seventy two, life held few surprises. The walking corpses outside had been one to be sure but even they held little fascination now; Herbert was more interested in whether he’d run out of pipe tobacco or not.
Edie Rowley walked up to Herbert, her ample bosom stirring his ardor even at his advanced age, and asked “any sign?”, he turned and smiling the smile that only incorrigible old bastards and naughty children can ever truly get away with replied “ well there’s a great big pirate ship on the way in but I might have had my tobacco exchanged with whatever young Simon’s been smoking over there…………..”
Chris heard the banging coming from the wooden door to the galley below, an mixture of hangover groans and expletives that came out more like the moaning of some mythical beast, not the vented anger of a salty sea dog. As the shore reared up before him Chris could see the shambling creatures the government had insisted were reanimates but Chris new otherwise, he’d seen the movies those fuckers were zombies...
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