Dead in the Water

Found this word document. wrote it a year ago. might as well post it.

Dead in the Water

            My hand was gripping an overhead handle as our chopper flew across the Indian Ocean. A single U.S. carrier ship had sent out a distress signal. And us S.E.A.L.s where sent to help them however we could. When we found the carrier. It was alone. Not a single other ship nearby. And the ship did not seem to be damaged.

            Sound is measured using decibels. The higher measurement of decibels the loader something is. A helicopter can reach up to 100 decibels. To give that perspective a church bell loudest at 55 decibels. On top of that, the waves of an ocean can get up to 85 decibels. Even with military grade earmuffs, most of the soldiers have to shout or use hand signals to communicate because of the eruption like sound. But when I stepped foot on the carrier. Everything was silent.

            “Somethings not right.” Charles, a fellow soldier said.

            “What is it?” Our private asked.

            “A ship like this should include hundreds of men constant at work. Even if they were attacked, some people should be here who are not.” Charles elaborated.

            I looked up at the bridge. No lights. No Bodies. No sign of activity.

            “The doors locked. Alexa bring your iron cutter over here.” The captain calls. I walk over to the metal locked door and sawed it off its hinges. A load echoy clack was heard as it fell inward the ship hallways. “Dale, stay with the chopper!” the captain yelled “the rest of us, lets who put out that distress signal”

 

            The hallways of the ship were tight and crept. Shoulder to shoulder with my fellow men. Our guns weren’t raised but, but we were all ready to shoot. Then down the hall, a door with a small window allowing limiting vision. The head of someone.

“Steady men. The captain stated cautiously. “Hey!”

 We continued onward steadily we opened the door. The man, dressed in military clothing, (he clearly worked here) was just standing to right, turned away with his back facing us. His hair seemed, malnourished.

Out captain stepped forward. “Excuse me, did you send out a distress. Signal?” the man only let out a slight gasp. His crooked legs slowly started to turn around with the anxiousness of an arthritis pained grandpa

            “Something’s not right” I stated.

            “Sir, is something wrong, who let out the…” our captain stopped midsentence. Caught off guard. By the gaping hole in the man’s stomach. It was bloody. But dried blood. Like a vat of overcooked pasta sauce mixed with Intestines. You could see all the way to spine. His skin had the color and texture of dead leaves fallen during autumn. Brown, Gunky, Crinkled and cracked. But most striking of all. Pure blood red eyes. Like they were replaced with ripe cherries.

            “Oh, that’s definitely not right.” The soldier next to me gasped.

“!!!!!!” the, for lack of a better word, Zombie, lunged and turned our captain face into cherry red pie. We took out our gun and turned the zombie into Swiss cheese. We started to back away.

“We got to get out of here” Charles chillingly stated. We started to all out sprint away out of fear and shock. But two more zombies, moaning and shuffling, came forth.

“How about the other way?!” I said.

“Yeah” mike agreed.

The two zombies lung and take down a fellow soldier. We beated across the dead zombie’s body. Our captain’s body resurrected, crasped the ankle of our private. And chomped down. The four of us left leaped through a doorway, and locked it behind us. Three zombies banged into the door. Bashing bleedy blood across the small window.

“Ah, thank god… ah, you suck!” we had entered a hanger. And in front of us was an entire room full of zombies. And mike spoke rhetorically referring to our suffering.

I took out my iron saw and starting revving. My fellow soldiers cocked their guns. POW. DEAD ZOMBIE. VRRB. DECAPITATED ZOMBIE. KICK. STOMP. DEAD ZOMBIE. RATATATATAT. THREE DEAD ZOMBIES. BACK TURNED. BITE. DEAD SOLDIER. CRUSH. SMACK. BLOODY. IMPALE. SLICE.

Our energy was low. We were covered with blood.

“Okay, we can’t just leave this place festering with living corpses. We need to get to the boiler room and overload it.”

“You and me, we’ll go to the boiler” mike states “you two, go prep the chopper.”

“Got it.” Charles and the other soldier swiftly leave up a ladder. Mike and I went down to the boiler. We turned up everything. I was turning up a Gaige when I heard mike scream followed by two bangs.

“Mike are you okay!”

“I’m bit, Alexa.” Holding up his arm to show the red stream.

“Oh geez, uh I got a med kit we can-” I bargained

“I’ll slow you down, and I’ll be one of them in a few minutes. In less I don’t.” mike put the barrel of his gun in his mouth.

“No, no, no! There is an alternative! We can-” the shot fired felt like a shockwave. I wiped the small flecks off my face. And climb to the outside. Outside the chopper a dead Charles was gnawing on the pilot. And I guess the other guy didn’t make it. I took my iron saw and split his head in half. I got in helicopter. Started the engine. As I rose into the air I watched as the ship imploded.

“Really.”

“Yes”

“So, you’re telling us, you survived an undead onslaught, were all your fellow soldiers didn’t make it, blew up all, what I would describe as evidence, and flyed away in a helicopter”

“Yes”

“Do you realize how ridiculous a mission report this is” the man raised his voice. He clearly thought I was kidding.

“It’s the truth” I protested

“Hoo, okay. Well you’re up for manslaughter, and about every other rule you can break.”

 

 

 

Two days later. I’m in my cell. Placed there for life. A guard came up and unlocked the door. “Guess what happened” he said

I looked at him with a stare that said this better be good don’t waste my time.

The guard chuckles with a soft smile. “You won’t believe it”

I raise my eyebrow.

Author's Note

Do you understand the ending?

Reviews

[Ganglion-Pro]

Loved the story not that many do stories about zombies but you seemed to have pulled it off .just made me want to read on good job lass

[Shanu]

Hey nice one.. is there more to it?

[Elsa]

No, Sorry.

[Emma Anderson]

That was a good story and I'm pleased to say your skills in creative writing are better than most people's stories I have read on this site. What genre do you prefer?

[Elsa]

I don't have a specific preference. Anything that's fictional and that allows me to stretch my imagination I really enjoy

[Emma Anderson]

That's good. I do a few different things too. I prefer to write fiction and stories mostly. At the moment I'm writing a novel about a witch so I'm reading a lot of similar stories.