Free For Those In Peril (Book 1): For Those In Peril On The Sea by Colin M. Drysdale Page A

it, the raft exploded into life. 
    I jumped, stumbling over one of the cleats and losing my balance. As I landed heavily on the deck, the spotlight slipped from my hand. It clattered against the table and went out. I lay there with my heart racing, listening to the infected as they tried desperately to get on board. I did my best to regain my composure and felt around in the darkness for the spotlight. When I found it, I clicked the switch but nothing happened. I banged it against my hand and clicked the switch again. This time it came on. I leant over the guard rail once more and refocused the light on the raft. It revealed two figures scrabbling frantically at the side of the boat.
    Both were men but somehow neither of them looked quite human. One was thin and wiry, clothes torn, covered in dried blood. The other was stockier, but equally dishevelled. Wet hair clung to their skulls and their eyes burned with anger. They snarled and snapped, incensed that they could see me, but not get to me. Their hands clawed at the boat until their fingers bled, leaving red streaks down the white sides, but they didn’t stop. A sense of panic gripped me as I struggled to think of what to do.
    Then I remembered the flare gun and a plan emerged. If I could puncture the inflatable raft, it would sink, taking the infected with it. I levelled it and pulled the trigger. The red flare shot through the night and buried itself deep into the stocky man’s body. I could smell his flesh blistering yet he showed no sign of pain. Instead, the force of the impact caused him to stumble backwards and fall over the side. He flailed for a second, churning up the water, before sinking from sight.
    I scrabbled to load a new flare, my hands shaking at the thought of what would happen if the other man made it onto the boat. With disbelief, I felt the cartridge slip from my fingers and fall onto the deck. Before I could pick it up, it rolled into the scuppers and disappeared from sight. A small splash told me it had dropped into the water.
    ‘Shit!’
    I search the cockpit with my eyes, looking for anything I could use as a weapon, but I found nothing. Fear bubbled up inside, threatening to overwhelm me. I fought it as hard as I could, knowing that if I let it win, I wouldn’t survive. Try as I might, I couldn’t formulate any kind of plan. As I watched, frozen to the spot, the man finally scrambled onto the deck. That was when I spotted the foot-long winch handle in its pocket beside the helm. I dropped the flare gun and lunged for it just as the man sprang into the cockpit. I felt my hand close on the cold metal and turned to find the infected man was almost upon me. I lashed out, smacking him across the side of the head, stunning him momentarily. Knowing it was him or me, I fell upon him, smashing him with the heavy handle. As I hit him, I heard the dull thunk of metal on flesh. Thinking this would be enough I stopped and tried to get up. As I did so, his hand shot up and grabbed my throat. I struck him again and again, bringing the winch handle down on his head with all the force I could muster. Finally I felt his grip loosen and his body go limp.
    While it seemed like a lifetime, it must have all happened in seconds. As I sank back into the corner of the cockpit, Bill emerged from the cabin. One look at the battered body and the blood seeping slowly across the deck and he was wide awake. He did what I should have done, grabbing the foghorn, blowing it loudly. The others appeared almost immediately. They gathered in the cabin entrance, staring with disbelief at the bloody scene that lay before them.
    ‘What the hell happened?’ My head was reeling and I couldn’t focus on who was speaking. Questions seemed to be coming from all sides.
    ‘Is that one of them; one of the infected?’
    ‘Where did it come from?’
    ‘How the hell did it get on board?’
    ‘Are there any more of them?’
    I thought about what I’d just done and I felt the bile rise