Escape, part 3
Written by Brien Bartels, Read by Chad Luckner, man's voice
I slalom down the steps of the Glass Museum, to the Dock Street Marina. It looks like Pearl Harbor on Monday, listing boats, some smoldering. But I see what I need on a rack next to the water: a long, swift touring kayak. One of these is hard for me to manhandle on my best days. This is not my best day. Launching from dockside is tricky, under the best conditions. These are not them. Throw everything in the front cockpit. Squat next to the rear cockpit, bracing a paddle on the dock. There is a small gathering of stumbling, meandering zombies inside the marina gate. The kayak wobbles as I get in, but I board successfully, and push off.
One of the faster ones throws itself into the water as I try to paddle up to speed. Water shallow here. It bounces off the bottom, brain too addled to make swimming actions, but still it reaches for me with fingers chewed down to bony claws. I dispatch it with a blow from the paddle, right on the bridge of the nose. It drifts away under the waves, claws still reaching up greedily.
Need to pick up speed and get to deep water. More of the slower zombies begin plunging in after me, popping up in my wake. Tide is out. Motion on the beach, a black shadow among the rocks. Yin flicking her tail. I brake with the paddle. Can I get away if I stop for her? Could I live with myself if I didn’t? Paddling on the left side, I turn to the beach.
She jumps into the cockpit, wet and complaining. I veer for open water, her cries syncopated with the beats of the paddle.
Sprinting for the open water of the bay, past the derelict container ships at anchor. Into the deep green water, far from shore. A few plague victims visible on the docks and the coast-hugging highway.
It is a long way to the zoo.
I am lucky. The wind is from the southwest, and tends to make me drift towards the Narrows, Point Defiance and safety. I find it impossible to row anymore. Only a half-hearted stir of the water whenever I start to go in a circle.
Exhausted just from remembering and recording this.
