Dead in the Water

Richard had been doing what he always had done early every morning since this new life was thrust upon him. He took the hopeful spark he had been born with and went through his daily mental checklist as he sat cross-legged on the bow of the boat. The first item always began with thoughts on the good things in his current life, good being relative, and sadly translating into less bad.

His morning reverie and subsequent mumblings were rudely interrupted by Martin. "Then why say it?" he calls out annoyed as he looks for said floaters. Today Richard had been weaving something from two strands of swamp grass he had fished out of the water. His hands were always busy since he had begun his new lifestyle.

"Any idea why there are more of them now?"

Owen makes a semi-audible groan, as he hears. Great. Radio Martin is at it again... Why can't teachers just shut the fuck up? School's been well over, since the world went to shit.

He tries to scrub harder the stubborn gore stains from the last attack. The dense ichors coming from the zed's body have been tough to remove. some of it has soaked deep into the deck wood. Physical work keeps his body warm, and his mind focused.

He however glances in the direction Martin is hinting at, in search of signs of floaters. Six zeds can quickly rush you, better keep your eyes peeled.

He then looks across at Richard. It was his idea to get the gore scrubbed, of course. He hated to admit it, but the man often had sound ideas.
He looks for the ladies of their group of desperates. Shayna and BF. Now, where the heck are they?

Shayna spits out the "toothpaste" she's made from wild mint, chalk and charcoal. She stows her brush in her pocket and looks around at what had gotten the attention of the others.

Walking to Martin, spear in hands like a hiking staff, she says in her slight Southern drawl, "Don't fishermen ha' long sticks with hooks? We could snare one if it gets close and then POP, someone else can shove a pick through its brain." She looks out over the water. "A pick on the end of another looonnng stick."

With distaste she looks at the water. "Still, I'm with the others. Upstream. This water is polluted by their filth, by the plague. Someon's going to mess up and drink too much of this water maybe a bit of rotten flesh and we'll wake up getting chewed upon." She reflexively checks her spear isn't stuck to the pontoon boat. "Put a stop to wha'ever is causin' them to fall 'n the water like itty bitty rafts "

Billie-Faye lies up on the canvas top of the one of the pontoon boats, sunnin' herself to drive out the night's chill, chewin' a three year old granola bar for breakfast. The dirty blonde's gray-blue eyes are closed as she feels the warmth of the sun on her face, but it's not near as strong as it was weeks ago. The seasons are changin'. For sure.

Suddenly sitting up, the bikini top-wearing woman pulls her tangled hair into a ponytail with her last elastic as she scans the water, sees the floaters and then responds to Cater without looking at him. "Martin, will you shut the fuck up? We know. We know there's more of them fuckers all the time in the water, and we know we don't know why."

Glancing at Tracy, the soiled southern dove adds, "Excuse my French, sweetie, sometimes I forget there's kids present." Her accent is lighter than Shayna's, but it's there. The two women are otherwise... pretty different sorts.

Beaver's got that cold look in her eyes -- she's clearly seen too much. But she lacks the tattoos, the piercings, the potty mouth that Billie sports, that she seems to take pride in. The hard-livin' woman never minded bein' called a whore, a skank, a junkie, a stripper -- because she was all those things and more in the before times. Now? Brave new world. Level playin' field. Final innings, and who the fuck knew the score would be all tied up?

Adjusting the fit of her top over the tits JD paid for a few years back, snugging up the straps, Cooper pulls on her favorite flannel shirt, which she leaves open so Kant can still sneak a peek here and there, then she drops down to the deck of the boat. Barefoot in her jean shorts, she makes her way over to Shayna, producing her own worn toothbrush -- which she holds out, wordlessly asking to borrow some of the woman's homemade toothpaste. Then, after listening to all the rest of the conversation and spitting out the unpleasant mixture, Billie finally adds, "We can go upstream and see what the fuck's goin' on... or maybe it's time to get the fuck outa Dodge altogether, right? We been here a while. Winter's on the way and this here water palace ain't exactly weather proofed."

Spitting an extra time into the water, perhaps for the hell of it or perhaps for effect givin' Martin's hurtful words, Billie-Faye stands up straight, looks over at Vinh and shrugs her slim, tanned, ink-heavy shoulders. "I dunno, anywheres? Away from the river? Some place with walls, a bit more privacy and a few less walkers?"

Holding up an empty duffle bag the zipper is long gone on, she adds, "We're needin' a food run whatever else we do. We could take a peek up river, or maybe even check in on them Athenians."

It had been easy to reject the offer to join up with that group before, when times were a little better. Now, with colder weather approaching, food runnin' low and all these floaters...

"Dunno, Vinh. But if it carries on like this, there'll be stacks of damn zeds in these waters. Heck, they'll make moving the pontoons impossible..."

He glances up at the river, "maybe this place isn't so safe anymore." He concludes, giving a short glance in Tracy's direction.

"This boat has been safe. Walkers don't swim well and that's not an advantage we will find easily. I'm less and less willing to eat the fish from this lake though, or drink the water without boiling it to all to hell an' back. Meaning we're in the middle of a Godforsaken desert."

She looks at Biily-Faye's duffle bag. "Maybe we can find a mess o ready heat meals just out there waitin for us. "

The look on her face tells any who listen that she thinks that's as likely as some black tie silverfox showing up and saying she was winning the Powerball tomorrow.

He looks at Shayna, considering her words. Then at the waters surrounding them, suddenly appearing polluted and toxic to his mind.
She's right... We're drinking zombie particles every day... The thought makes him queasy.

"No harm in... Following the river upstream to take a look... I guess."

Richard, who had been quiet up until now, listens and nods along. Some of their group was worth listening to. Some were just there to look at. He made no secret any of this. In their world, you cut to the chase, because you could be dead, or worse tomorrow. No room for politics, flattery or games.

"I'm for moving. I don't necessarily agree with Owen's assessment that there is no harm in moving upriver. There could be a lot of harm but what choice do we have?

Richard had enjoyed Billy-Faye's little performance as she dismounted from the canvas top because you took pleasure where you could. He didn't hide his eyes drifting...

"Yeah, Billy's right. We need food. Shayna's right too. It's been safe here relatively speaking, but it seems like we should move from here now."

"Doesn’t have to be Chef Boy-ar-dee to beat what we got here, Shayna," Cooper says with a grin as the group starts talking about getting off their asses. Billie-Faye’s always been a woman who likes to move around. Doesn’t like wearin’ out welcomes and such. She ignores Martin’s continued attempts to assert himself as the group’s leader, though.

"Maybe a few of us go scoutin’? We got the bike and the car. Leave some here to hold down the fort while a couple-few of us get a better idea on what’s goin’ on?"

"I'll come," Richard offers, maybe a little too quickly. "Siting around gabbing isn't getting us fed. Who is coming and who is staying?"

She looks at the zombies in the water, wondering how that's happening, where they're coming from, and why. What drives them to wander?.

Looking north along the river, she says, "I'll go. There are places up there I haven't checked." Her sister, somewhere out there.

"Getting off this boat for a while would be good. I'm in."

He stands up from his scrubbing task, adding "We can check the pizza delivery car I found. Should start OK. It's hidden right there." he points at an area on the shore.
"Could get us some of the way. At least until the gas lasts..."