Bascomb snapped his fingers with determination. “We’ve got enough ordnance. Just make sure every round counts when you open fire on them.”
“What if we can’t stop them?”
“You’re talking like a defeatist. If you think like a loser, you are a loser.”
“I’m just being prepared. In war, nothing ever goes according to plan. We should have a contingency plan, just in case.”
Bascomb thought about it. “If we can’t stop them from setting foot on this island, we’ve got problems.”
“I have military experience, sir. I was in the marines. We need a fallback plan.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let’s pull back to the prison. The prison’s fortified and we’ll have the high ground. That’s always an advantage in a conflict.”
“OK,” said Bascomb, but his thoughts were elsewhere, thinking up a means of escape, should the unthinkable happen. He waved Jones off. “You take care of that.”
“We’ll set up a second perimeter of defense at the prison.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Jones spun around to leave.
“Wait,” said Bascomb, checking out Victoria. “What did you bring her here for?”
“Halverson and Reno were giving me problems,” answered Jones. “She’s leverage to keep them in line.”
Bascomb nodded with approval. “Those two are enemies of the state and will have to be dealt with after they’ve finished helping us fend off the infected.” He paused. “Right now we need their firepower.”
“I don’t trust them on their own.”
“You did right. Get a move on it and beef up our defenses.”
Jones started for the foyer but stopped when he heard Bascomb speak.
“How long do we have before the infected get here?”
“We might have an hour at the most,” answered Jones. “Maybe more. It’s hard to say.”
Bascomb dismissed him.
Jones hustled out of the house.
Bascomb turned to Victoria. “You don’t look happy, my dear.”
“Why should I be?” she said. “I’ve heard stories about you.”
“That’s all they are—stories.”
“I doubt it.”
“I have enemies here and they spread lies about me. They’re jealous of me.”
Victoria didn’t trust Bascomb. She looked defiantly at him.
“You better not try anything with me,” she said.
Bascomb smiled and gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down and have a drink. I have an excellent bottle of champagne here.”
Bascomb retrieved the bottle of champagne from the coffee table.
Victoria didn’t move. “I’m fine standing up.”
“Suit yourself.”
He retrieved a glass from the sideboard, poured champagne into the glass, and carried it to Victoria.
Victoria didn’t accept it.
“Relax and help yourself to a drink,” said Bascomb.
Victoria looked down her nose at the champagne. “Did you put a Roofie in it?”
Bascomb looked puzzled. “A what?”
“You heard what I said.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He carried her glass of champagne to the coffee table. “As you wish. The drink will be here when you change your mind.” He set the glass down on the tabletop.
Victoria crossed her arms and set her jaw.
“You might as well sit down and relax,” said Bascomb. “You may be here for a while.”
“I didn’t come here because I wanted to.”
“Where would you rather be?”
“Back fighting the creatures.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“At least I know what I’m dealing with when I’m dealing with them. They’re not devious like some people.”
Bascomb gazed at her. “Are you referring to me?”
“If the shoe fits . . .”
Drink in hand, Bascomb sat down on the sofa. “You know I could make your life very difficult here.”
“Like you did for Brittany?”
Bascomb tensed and glared at her. “What do you know about her?”
“I know she’s dead.”
“She had to be killed. She was infected. You never should have brought her here in the first place. That’s all on you and your group.”
“We didn’t know she was infected.”
Bascomb massaged his brow. “You should have examined her.”
“Are you worried?”
“Why should I be worried? Worried about what?”
“You know.”
Bascomb slammed his drink down on the coffee table, spilling champagne over the tabletop, and jumped to his feet. He paced back and forth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Then why are you wearing holes in the carpet?”
He turned on her. “You’re the one who should be worried.”
“I’m not the one turning into a ghoul.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you making some kind of cryptic threat against me?”
“I’m just saying.”
“If you think antagonizing me is gonna improve your lot here, you’re nuts.”
“I didn’t ask to be brought here.”
“If you don’t change your tune, I’m gonna have you locked up.”
Victoria started at the sound of gunfire crackling in the distance.
Bascomb pricked up his ears, his mouth grim. “I guess they got here early.”
Chapter 70
Several of the guards commenced firing their AK-47s at the creatures seemingly walking on water in the bay at the southern end of the island. The swirling mist obscured the guards’ vision and mitigated their ability to fire accurately.
“The infected are working faster than I thought,” said Jones, watching the creatures from the bluff as they scrabbled like chimeras in the offing.
“The aroma of living human flesh must jack them up,” said Reno behind him. “There’s nothing like anticipating the taste of a human kidney in your mouth to get your juices going.”
Jones turned around to look at Reno. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”
“The fact is, they’re here,” said Halverson, standing beside Reno. “We have to deal with it.”
“If only this fog would lift.”
Jones scanned the surrounding area but saw no letup in the mist that was socking them in.
“They’re wasting their ammo at this range,” said Halverson, watching the guards firing.
“They can barely see what they’re shooting at,” said Reno.
“Hold your fire!” Jones called out to his men. “They’re still out of range.”
Grudgingly, the guards lowered their weapons, anxiety written on their faces.
Reno nudged Halverson’s elbow and motioned for Halverson to step back with him out of Jones’s earshot.
“This is hopeless,” Reno whispered.
“What choice do we have?” said Halverson.
“Let’s beat it. It’s all going sideways. What the hell are we hanging around on this island for? This place is a lost cause.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let’s grab our boat and sail out of here.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?” asked Reno, puzzled.
“Victoria. I’m not leaving her behind.”
“Then we go up and get her and then split.”
Halverson shook his head. “Bascomb’s got guards at his house.”
Reno shrugged. “We attack them. What’s the big deal?”
“As soon as we open fire on the house, Bascomb’ll signal Jones and his men for help. We won’t stand a chance.”
Crestfallen, Reno lowered his shoulders. “There’s no way we’re gonna defeat these ghouls. There are just too many of them.”
Halverson returned to Jones�
�s side and noticed Jones staring at Parnell down on the shoreline.
“What’s he doing there?” asked Jones.
“I don’t know,” answered Halverson.
“He must really want to mix it up with the infected.”
“No. He doesn’t.”
“Maybe he’s losing his mind—like the rest of us, if we don’t watch out.”
Halverson paused in thought. “We’re gonna need a fallback plan in case we can’t stop the ghouls here.”
“I know. We’re gonna fall back to the prison. That’s our obvious choice. It’s a fortress, after all.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean?” asked Jones, scoping Halverson out with his hooded eyes.
“We’re still gonna need to defend ourselves in the prison when the ghouls besiege it.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Bombs?”
“We don’t have any bombs.”
“Let’s make Molotov cocktails. We’ve got plenty of gas and bottles in the prison.”
Jones nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”
“As long as the whole island doesn’t go up in flames as a result,” said Reno, walking up to them.
“It’s great to have you around to cheer us up.”
Reno smiled with half his mouth.
Erskine, the burly foreman with tattoos of crimson tears on his forearms, angled toward Jones from the shore. Erskine was carrying a pump-action double-barreled Mossberg shotgun in his hands.
“This is the part I hate,” said Erskine. “The waiting.”
“You got that right,” said Jones.
“Hurry up and wait,” said Reno.
“It’s getting on my nerves.” Erskine stood next to Jones and peered into the fog that was massing over the bay and obscuring the movement of the walking dead on their bridge. “I just want to get this over with.”
“I don’t have any problem with killing the infected, but this waiting is getting to me, too,” said Jones.
“Why don’t we open up on them now? If they get too close to the shore, we’re not gonna be able to stop them.”
“We can’t see them clearly yet,” put in Halverson. “We’ll be shooting at shadows.”
Erskine leveled a stare at Halverson and puffed up his chest. “You don’t give the orders here.”
“We need to be able to see what we’re shooting at before we start shooting,” said Jones. “There could be thousands of the infected out there. I’m not sure our ammo’s gonna hold out. We can’t waste bullets.”
Halverson and Reno were watching Parnell wade into the tenebrous waters of the bay.
“What the hell’s he doing?” said Reno.
Halverson sprang down the incline toward the shingle on the shore.
Reno peeled off after him.
“What are you doing, Doc?” Halverson called out.
By the time Halverson reached the ocean lapping on the shore, Parnell was already swimming toward the creatures.
“What’s the old fool up to?” said Reno.
“I’m gonna talk to them,” Parnell shouted back to Halverson.
“They’ll eat you alive!” hollered Reno.
“They can’t swim. I’ll stay in the water.”
“You’re nuts!”
“They’re just like us,” said Parnell as he swam through the bone-chilling water. “Can’t you see that? I know I can get through to them.” He accidentally gulped seawater and gagged.
“If he doesn’t freeze to death in that water first,” Halverson told Reno.
“He’s lost his marbles,” said Reno.
“You’ll die of hypothermia out there, Doc!” yelled Halverson.
“I know what I’m doing,” said Parnell. “I’m not staying out here long.”
Halverson shook his head in exasperation.
“Why does everyone think those things are like us?” Reno asked Halverson. “They’re not like us. They’re not human. You can’t reason with monsters.”
“He can’t last out there. He has no chance.”
Halverson was tempted to swim after Parnell and pull him back to shore.
Reno grabbed Halverson’s wrist.
“By the time you reach him, he’ll be gone,” said Reno, as if reading Halverson’s mind.
Chapter 71
Shivering in the frigid bay waters, Parnell dogpaddled near the bridge of the infected. The water was colder than he had expected. He would have to do this quickly and swim back before he passed out from the cold. Negotiating with the infected was the only chance he and the rest of the survivors had if they were going to live.
Bullets weren’t the answer, he knew. There weren’t enough bullets on the island to kill the hordes of advancing infected. Sooner or later the bullets would run out, while the infected would continue to multiply and spread across the earth.
He had to succeed or everyone on the island was doomed, and, in the long run, everyone on earth, for that matter.
“We need to talk!” he shouted up to the infected that were shambling around on the bridge and lying down to extend its span on the water.
Two of the infected stared down at him. One was seventysomething and nothing but skin and bones. He had a hatchet face with grey stubble on it. He hung his mouth open, revealing broken green teeth and lacerated gums, in response to Parnell’s words.
Christ, this water’s cold! thought Parnell. He paddled faster to keep his circulation going. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer in the water. He swam closer to the bridge so the infected could hear him out.
He needed to make them understand he wasn’t their enemy, to let them know that the infected and the healthy could coexist, while he and other medical experts determined the cure for the pestilence. In the meantime, everyone needed to learn to coexist.
“We’re not your enemies,” he said. “We’re your friends. We can help cure you. Give us a chance to cure you. You’re suffering from a disease. That’s the only difference between us.”
The other infected was short and stocky with a swarthy, furrowed complexion and close-cropped black hair. He was wearing a car repairman’s grey service uniform with the word Toyota blazoned in red over his right breast pocket. He grimaced at Parnell.
Parnell shuddered. Not because of the infected, but because of the water. It was ice-cold. Gnashing his teeth Parnell could feel it in his very marrow. The cold was exhausting him. He would have to curtail his mission and head back. If he passed out in the water, he would drown.
The idea of drowning terrified him. He would try to reason with the infected one last time.
“We can cure you!” he yelled at the infected that stood above him. “Just give us a chance!”
No answer.
Already he was beginning to feel enervated as he treaded water. It was time to return to shore, he decided.
That was when the car repairman stepped off the bridge into the bay waters, landed on top of Parnell’s head, and grabbed Parnell’s neck as Parnell sank below him.
Parnell flailed his arms, trying to fend off the repairman and keep from drowning at the same time.
The scrawny, decrepit infected geezer with the hatchet face stepped off the bridge and piled onto the repairman and Parnell, lunging for Parnell’s throat and chomping down on it.
Splashing, Parnell screamed as he felt teeth tear at his throat. Blood spurted out of his shredded throat into the murky bay waters.
Underwater, the car repairman fell to chewing on Parnell’s forearm and ripping flesh from it.
“You idiots,” moaned Parnell, swallowing seawater and coughing, face turning blue. “We’re the only ones who can save you.”
The geezer bit another hunk of flesh out of Parnell’s throat.
Bleeding out, Parnell could swim no longer. He felt himself lapsing into unconsciousness and sinking into the endless black depths of water.
The icy ocean was swallowing him and taking the dead weight of the two infected with him.
<
br /> Chapter 72
Dumbfounded, Halverson stood on the shore and stared at Parnell’s head as it submerged, the ghouls draped all over Parnell’s body, clawing at him, chewing him.
“What a waste,” said Reno, standing shell-shocked beside Halverson. “How could anyone with his high IQ be so stupid?”
“He was trying to help.”
Suddenly, anger overcame Halverson. He unslung his MP7 from his shoulder, trained the muzzle on the creatures in the fog, and fired a long burst. Several of the creatures plummeted off the bridge into the water.
“I guess they’re in range now,” said Reno.
He unlimbered his MP7 and emptied his magazine into the shuffling ghouls, dropping two of them.
Behind Halverson and Reno, on the slope, the guards opened fire on the ghouls.
No matter how many creatures they killed, more creatures kept coming along the bridge and taking the places of their dead compatriots to continue building the bridge. The air replete with automatic weapons’ fire, the creatures edged closer to shore, incapable of fear in their single-minded determination to attain landfall.
Sheets of bullets cut them down, shredding their clothes and cutting their bodies to ribbons. Still the creatures came closer, narrowing the gap of water between them and the shoreline.
“This is hopeless!” cried Reno above the cacophony of gunfire, ears ringing.
Halverson ejected yet another clip from his smoking, hot MP7 and replaced it with one from his bandoleer. He didn’t dare touch the muzzle lest he burn his hands on the scorching steel. He fired a three-round burst into the nearest creature and felled it.
Grimacing, the tall male creature, clad in red track shorts, crashed into the sea and sank out of sight.
“You know what?” said Halverson.
“What?” said Reno.
“We got problems.”
Reno turned toward Halverson. “You just realized that?”
Halverson was watching a drenched creature with white wet hair plastered down over its brow. Brown seaweed hung on the creature’s shoulder. White film covered the creature’s blue eyes. The creature was the better part of twenty feet from Halverson and it was wading through the water toward him.
Halverson nodded toward the creature. “Look over there.”
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