TYBEE ISLAN
ISLAND
By By Paul Paul Cales Cales & Becca
Continued from the Sept 2018 Beachcomber.
Catch up @ http://tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine
CHAPTER 15
DAY 5.5
28 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | OCT 2018
“Holy crap!” Tony exclaims as he notices a series of 2x4’s nailed
into the trunk of a huge live oak, leading up to a large platform.
“Where on earth did you get all this wood?”
“I guess it’s from a dock that was destroyed during Hurricane Irma.
We found a ton of wood washed up in the cut. Most of it is up there in
the trees now,” answers Johnny.
“We decided to build this four nights ago when six zeeks came up
on us while we were sleeping in the boat,” Cheryl says. “There’s no
half-assery here. We see a problem, we fix it.”
“Wow man,” Rudy says. “I knew you were handy, but damn. It
looks like it could use a couple coats of an exterior oil-based paint. I
know a guy who could knock this out in a couple hours for a minimal
price.”
“Seriously, Rudy?” Tony chuckles.
“Just trying to make a living, brother,” Rudy responds, and joins in
the laughter of the rest of the group.
“So,” Johnny begins, changing the direction of conversation.
“What have y’all been up to since all hell broke loose?”
“We were camping on Little Tybee over by Jack’s Cut when it
all started…” Becky begins, then proceeds to tell them all that
happened from Marissa on the beach until they met up with them.
When she finishes Cheryl is the first to speak up. “You guys have
been through a lot. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“We’ve had it pretty easy,” Johnny says. “We were packing the
boat up to head over to the sand bar the next morning to have
a pleasant, touron-free day when Joey came running up to the
apartment screaming about zombies.”
“Of course, I was thinking he was just drunk or something,” Cheryl
chimes in.
“Yeah,” Johnny continues. “So, we watched him open the trunk of
one of the old, broken down Breezy cabs and grab a tire iron. Then
two zeeks came sprinting around the corner from the Hotel Tybee
parking lot and Joey straight up whacked them in the head with the
tire iron.”
“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” Cheryl says. “And then
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Out of nowhere there was
screaming coming from all directions.”
“Thank God we had all our stuff packed already,” Johnny sighs.
“I ran into the house and grabbed our guns. Cheryl grabbed as much
food as she could, and we jumped into the van that was already
hooked to the boat and headed to the Lazaretto Creek boat ramp.”
“It wasn’t an easy trip from 14th St. to the boat ramp either,”
Cheryl says. “It was as if, all of a sudden, the entire island was
nothing but people running, people chasing other people, and
screaming.”
“What time was this?” Becky asks.
“I don’t know,” Johnny says. “Around midnight? I was a bit tipsy.
We had been cooking out on the patio and drinking all night.”
“That seems about right. Midnight would have given this thing
enough time to spread from Alley 3 to the down front area where the
bars are,” Tony says.
“Do you really think it all started when Marissa got bit?” Becky
asks.
“It’s entirely possible,” Tony says, and then looks back toward
Johnny. “So, how bad was it mid-island?”
“Bad. It seemed like complete chaos from down front all the way
up to Huc-A-Poo’s.”
Tony eases back on the throttle, the boat slows to an idle, and the
turquoise tri-hull eases up to their port side. Becky leaps from her
boat onto the tri-hull and wraps her arms around Johnny and Cheryl.
“I can’t believe it! I’m so happy to see you guys!”
“Yeah,” Cheryl says. “You’re the first real people we’ve seen in five
days… Well… besides zeeks that is.”
“Zeeks?” Becky asks.
“Yeah, you know,” Johnny answers. “Zombie geeks.”
“Zeeks. I like that,” Rudy says. “We haven’t figured out what to
call them.”
Tony ties the two boats together and tosses the anchor to hold
them in place. “Damn it’s good to see y’all. We’ve got a lot of
catching up to do.”
“You sure this is a safe place to do it?” asks Johnny.
“It’s definitely not a safe place to do it,” Tony responds. “Do you
guys have a camp?”
“We’re set up on Little Tybee,” Cheryl says. “We had to go around
to the southern side to make camp. The tide was too low to get into
Jack’s Cut when we got there.”
“You guys are on the Wassaw side of Little Tybee?” Paul asks.
“Yeah,” Cheryl replies. “It seems pretty safe. We’ve only seen a
couple of Zeeks at our camp.”
“We’ve been camped on the northern end of the island over by
Jack’s Cut. Why don’t we head back to your camp and we’ll catch you
up on what we’ve been through the past five days,” suggests Tony.
“Okay, man,” Johnny says. “Follow me.”
After a boat ride that lasts about fifteen minutes, the two boats
slip into a small cut on the southern end of the island from Wassaw
Sound. Tony, Rudy, and Becky grab their gear and follow Johnny and
Cheryl into a large patch of live oak trees.
“High ground, lots of cover, and pretty tough to get to from the
main land,” Tony says. “You picked a really sweet spot. I don’t see
your camp though…”
“Look up, bro,” says Johnny.
/magazine