The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll

by Hegarty, W. J.

  “Please. I see the way the two of you look at each other. It’s no secret. There’s something there.”

  “Aiko, he’s my commanding officer,” Soraya stammered.

  “Uh-huh.” Aiko rolled her eyes. “And who’s left to write either one of you up?”

  Soraya remained silent.

  “Back at the strip mall, when we had a bit of a breather, Rachel and I made a bet.”

  “Oh?” she replied with a grin.

  “She says Miller will make the first move. I told her no way that boy scout goes against regulations. Sure, Rachel knows him way better than I ever will, but it’s plain as day that Miller is still following orders. He thinks the brass is still out there waiting to chew him out for fraternizing. Anyway, I put my money on you making the first move. A month’s worth of laundry is on the line here. Don’t let me down, girl.” Aiko grinned and shrugged. “We’re finally off the road and safe on an island, just what we hoped for. What do you have to lose?”

  Soraya smiled but quickly rose to her feet. “Thank you for sewing me up, Aiko. I should get going. There is a lot to be done.” She hurried off down the beach. Her brisk pace quickly turned into a light jog until she disappeared over a dune.

  “Hey, don’t mention it.” Aiko chuckled to herself as she wiped the woman’s blood from her hands and glanced at a growing pile of soiled clothes. “Anytime.”

  Damon sat atop a small dune about a quarter of a mile from camp. Thick grasses obscured him from sight, but his vantage point offered a bird’s-eye view of the goings-on in the group. He fared better than most through the maelstrom. Having locked himself in an empty storage closet, he was immune from the chaos of tumbling bodies and debris. More than once during the ordeal, a rap at the door and a jiggling handle signaled someone had the same idea as him. The closet was roomy enough for at least four comfortably, though he wouldn’t have it. Damon remained silent. No one saw him go in there to begin with, and the hell with anyone who tried to prove otherwise. His policy during the storm applied to anyone who tried to get in, including a distraught Markus looking for safety for him and Samantha.

  “Here, let me see that.” Markus dabbed at a cut on Samantha’s arm with a vodka-damped rag.

  Samantha pulled back from the initial sting. After that, it was fine, and she let him continue tending to the wound. She cupped her forehead with her free hand. Squinting hard, she peered down the long-deserted stretch of beach. Calm seas lapped at the shore in stark contrast to the previous night’s violence. As far as she could see, detritus from what she could only assume was their boat littered the beach. That could easily have been bodies, she thought. How they all survived the night was nothing short of a miracle in her eyes.

  Her long red curls blew in the breeze, occasionally wrapping themselves around Markus’s head. She did her best to hold them back with her free hand, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “You know, I’ve never seen the water. Well, I’ve seen the Inner Harbor, and we went shooting out by Patapsco once, but the ocean… It’s big. Bigger than I ever imagined,” he said.

  “I’ve never been much of a beach-goer myself. I mean, look at me.” She held out her porcelain arm. “I burn just thinking about the sun.”

  “All done,” he said. “Sure you don’t want to have one of the medics take a look at it?”

  “I’m fine. I’d rather not get in the way.”

  Markus leaned back in the sand beside her, resting on his elbows. “I’m never getting on another boat again. I’m done with the ocean. Once was enough for me.”

  “I don’t blame you. Come on.” She stood and held her hand out. “Let’s go see if we can’t find something useful in all this junk.”

  ISLAND: DAY THREE

  Directly across from the narrow island, on the mainland, a small inlet disappeared behind a cluster of condos and waterfront cottages. Two-person paddleboats and kayaks littered the properties. All were as useless as the deflated banana boat that a storm wrapped around someone’s dock. To their west, marshlands as far as the eye could see spread miles inland and around to a peninsula, affording the small sandbar of an island a natural barrier against the Atlantic Ocean’s fury. The tip of the peninsula featured a lighthouse, no doubt as a warning for unfamiliar sailors to steer clear of certain doom upon the reef just beyond the island.

  Eastward, the horizon offered a vast sprawling beach resort that disappeared into the distance. Hotels, restaurants, and amusements dotted the highway, which ran parallel to the miles of beach the resort had to offer. Now abandoned vehicles of all shapes and sizes littered the scenery. In the place of children playing and parents enjoying well-deserved vacations, packs of feral dogs teased countless undead for scraps of meat. Two dogs would pull and claw at a carrier’s shredded clothes, each attacking from a different side. The frustrated creature would usually lunge at the animals, rarely making contact. Eventually, the brain-dead abomination would drop its meal and a third dog would pounce, absconding with the prize. The three dogs would then vanish down an alley and begin their own battle over the spoils.

  Gone was the eye candy, all tanned a delicious bronze. The pretty girls in bikinis, one skimpier than the next, the guys chiseled from marble, vying for each other’s attention. Countless corpses littered the streets and beaches. Garbage blew in the warm ocean breeze. A handful of buildings still smoldered from an unwitnessed disaster while others had their front windows blown in by out-of-control vehicles. A small plane, the kind that dragged long advertisements behind it, was embedded in the side of a high-rise, three-quarters of the way up the building, its streamer still blowing in the wind. The banner read—Welcome to Poseidon’s Rest! Home of Gianni’s Pizza!—for a city full of creatures with no taste for the stuff.

  “I wonder if they’re open,” Radzinski asked.

  “Probably not,” Miller replied. “Do you see anything useful?”

  “Yeah, a couple of dinged-up motorboats. Looks like they were dragged onto shore. The storm didn’t do it. That’s for sure.”

  “What do you think?”

  “They look good from here, but we can’t be certain until we’re on top of them.”

  “Chances are they belong to our hosts,” Rachel added.

  “What if they come back?” Samantha, of course, was thinking of everyone.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll leave the boats right where we found them once we’re all across,” Miller assured her.

  “And no one will be the wiser,” Rachel added.

  “Let me see the binoculars,” said Miller.

  Radzinski gave up the device, and Miller focused them on the distant shoreline. “Yeah, I see them. Two small boats pulled up onto shore. Definitely put there with purpose.”

  “They might as well be on the moon,” Isaac argued.

  “Not necessarily. It looks to be about a mile of ocean between us and the mainland, and that’s a doable swim, especially after spending the last few days gorging ourselves,” Miller suggested. “We’ll need both of those boats to get everyone and all of our supplies in one trip. We can’t risk running out of gas and leaving people behind. It’s on me, so I’m going, but I am going to need a volunteer to go with me. We don’t have rope strong enough for a tow, and to be safe, I only want to go there and back once.”

  “This is suicide, Miller,” Markus cautioned. “That’s gotta be at least a mile of water, and if—if—you make it, you’ll be alone over there, exhausted from the swim, and with no weapons or backup. If you get attacked, that’s it, man. Game over. There’s got to be another way.” His apprehension had more to do with his newfound fear of water than anything else.

  “We all die if we do nothing. I go, too,” Soraya offered.

  “Thank you, Soraya.” Miller nodded. Soraya returned the gesture. “She’s right, people. You better hope we make it, because if we don’t, two more of you are going to have to try.”

  Miller and Soraya stripped down to their underwear before Jeremiah helped secure the gas can
to Miller’s back. Soraya strapped her kukri to her left thigh and a sidearm to the other. A good amount of duct tape ensured the weapons wouldn’t be falling off during the swim.

  “Are you sure about this, guys?” Markus’s misgivings concerning the plan were clear.

  “We don’t have a choice, Markus. I’ll see you soon.” Miller gripped the man’s shoulder on his way past to Rachel. “Keep your eyes on the shoreline, and if you see anything moving closer than a half a klick to those boats, fire three rounds.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Miller and Soraya cut across the water, making excellent time, each deliberate stroke propelling them closer to the other shore. Miller had a love affair with the sea for as long as he could remember, though as time wore on, he found himself becoming less and less familiar with its touch. In another time, and certainly under vastly different circumstances, he would have found this place to be paradise.

  For a moment, he imagined himself and Soraya swimming up to one of those abandoned cottages, closing the door behind them, and forgetting about the world. They could make a life together here, and why not? What was stopping them? She was lying in bed, cuddled up next to the spot he just rose from, and smiling in her sleep, content. Lost in thought, he barely noticed as his knee brushed the bottom. He stumbled for a second, then stood. They had hit land. He turned to help Soraya to her feet; she was already upright, helping him. The exhausted swimmers collapsed on the beach, faces skyward and panting like dogs.

  “We did it, Miller.” Soraya reached over and tapped Miller on the thigh a few times in congratulations.

  He weaved his fingers between hers before raising both of their arms in triumph for the benefit of those watching from the island. The pair sat up wearily, leaning on each other for support that evolved into a long embrace.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Perfect.” He offered a smile that she was quick to return before adding, “We should get going.” He helped her to her feet.

  “Yes, you are right. It is not safe here.” She started pawing sand off of her stomach and legs.

  “Here, let me give you a hand.” Miller swiped the grit from her back.

  She attempted the same as a gunshot tore them from a moment’s respite. The two were instantly at attention, scanning their surroundings for potential threats. As quickly as they took up defensive positions, Soraya had the pair of weapons freed from her legs and the two of them armed.

  A mile away on the island, Radzinski laughed as he slung his rifle. “Oh, isn’t that cute.” He grinned.

  “You asshole. There’s nothing even over there.” Rachel shook her head and returned to the binoculars.

  “They can fuck around on their own time. Just get me the hell off this island.” Radzinski peered down to his sand-covered boots.

  “I agree completely, young man,” Lancaster added. “This is hardly the time for foreplay.”

  “Shut up.” Radzinski pushed past Lancaster, disregarding his comment. “They’ll be back soon. Everybody, get your shit. We’re out of here.”

  Miller’s heart slowed its racing. There were no threats bearing down on them. He knew who was across the channel and why the shots were fired. He almost allowed himself a chuckle at the thought of Radzinski being right for once; they should hurry. “I don’t see anything. We better get these boats in the water.” Miller blushed slightly as he pulled his boat toward the shore.

  “Yes,” Soraya replied, biting her lip as she turned to the other boat in an attempt to hide her joy.

  Miller allowed himself a smile as he poured half of the fuel into his boat’s motor.

  “Alright, everyone, look sharp. Here they come.” Radzinski waved the tentative group forward along the shore. Miller and Soraya were moments away from their return, and he would prefer to be back on solid, paved land as soon as possible.

  “I know it’s only been a few days, but I really think I’m going to miss this place.” Lillian turned to the still-new campsite.

  In only a handful of days, they managed to turn what was essentially a pile of junk—abandoned leftovers, really—into the beginnings of a halfway decent miniature community. Once again, the uncertainty of the road lay ahead. Lillian pulled Vanessa aside, just a few steps away from the group.

  “What is it?” Vanessa asked, scanning the crowd for Isabelle. Lately, Lillian’s mother was about the only thing that could make the girl anxious.

  “We don’t have to go with them, you know.” Lillian attempted to whisper, but she was in a hurry. The boats would be there any second now. With them, her chance to convince Vanessa to stay would be gone.

  “Lily, we can’t stay here. If something happens, it would only be the two of us,” Vanessa said sympathetically.

  “Since when are you afraid of anything?” Lillian replied.

  “It’s not that. It’s that we’re just better off in a group. Safety in numbers, you know?” Vanessa tried to appear as if she believed what she was saying.

  “Dammit, Vanessa. Just think about this for a second. What’s out there for us? More running? Who’s going to die next? Don’t you want to slow down, at least for a little while?” Lillian was nearly begging.

  “Pardon me, ladies, but I tend to agree with Lillian.” Sam couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, as well as a few of the others who themselves were discussing the proposition.

  Opinions one way or the other ran the gamut, from agreement to being vehemently against the idea. Most, though, seemed to be falling into the I’ll-do-what-everyone-else-thinks-is-best category.

  “You do? I mean, thank you, Sam,” said Lillian.

  “Don’t mention it, darling. These old bones could use a good long rest. We should shoot this past Miller and the others, get an idea who wants to do what,” he suggested.

  “No need. Lillian’s right, Sam. We’re not leaving yet,” Miller said while walking out of the surf. He nodded to Markus and a few of the others standing around him, then back to the boats. “Let’s get these boats away from the water, up closer to camp.”

  “What do you mean? We’re not leaving?” Radzinski was stupefied.

  “We’re staying here for now. We’ve got food and shelter, and we’re surrounded by fast-moving deep water. Those things couldn’t reach us out here even if they could swim.” Miller gestured back to the resort on the horizon.

  “For what it’s worth, I second that idea, Miller,” Sam offered. “Lord knows we can use the break.”

  “Thank God.” Lillian let out a sigh.

  “Not to mention that, without a set destination, we might as well be walking in circles. I mean, where are we going anyway?” Marisol commented. “I have no problem staying here a while.”

  “Agreed,” Miller said before returning his attention to Radzinski, who was stewing. “It’s been almost a month since these people got to slow down, Radzinski. They need to relax for a few nights without worrying about who or what’s coming around the next corner,” Miller insisted. “We all do.”

  ISLAND: NIGHT THREE

  Most of the group took up spots in the sand around the crackling bonfire. Some wandered from the conversations and out on their own, down to the beach. For the first time in weeks, a few of them went unarmed. A pile of rifles within arm’s reach of the fire stood as a testament to the growing sense of calm just a handful of days on the island had afforded the survivors.

  “It’s peaceful here. Quiet. It’s a shame we can’t stay longer,” Isaac said as he stared off into the ocean.

  “And who says we can’t?” Elliot chucked a rock out into the water; it skipped a few times before sinking.

  “Be nice wouldn’t it, fellas? Living out under the stars and not a care in the whole damn world.” Sam buried his feet in the sand. He hadn’t felt the coarse but welcome grains between his toes since he was a child.

  Marisol fiddled with a stack of discarded papers she’d found in the ruined campsite. “According to this map I found
in one of the tents, I’d say we washed ashore in North Carolina. Deertongue Banks, to be exact.” Marisol handed the map off to Sam.

  “Well, that tells me exactly nothing,” Radzinski chimed in.

  “Ever with the positivity, Radzinski. Gotta love it.” Marisol was unmoved by the brute’s attitude but stole a glance at his shirtless physique nonetheless.

  “Never heard of it,” Damon added.

  “Not surprising. You do know there used to be an entire world outside of Baltimore, right?” Marisol asked rhetorically.

  “I’ve noticed. So far it’s been great,” Damon replied.

  “Touché,” said Marisol with a nod of her head.

  “I know where we’re at.” Bernie perked up, nearly startling Casandra, who sat at his side. “I thought the landscape looked familiar. We’re right on top of Mare’s Point. My family used to travel here when I was a boy. That’s Mare’s Point lighthouse across the bay there. Well, goddamn, small world, huh? Even if it has gone to hell.”

  “Yeah, small world. Sure,” Radzinski said. “Except for six billion carriers that all want a piece of your ass.”

  “You really think it’s the whole world?” Nisha pulled her arms in close. The idea chilled her.

  “It’s my whole world, sweetheart,” Radzinski asserted. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Point taken.” Marisol rolled her eyes as she lay down on her side in the sand.

  Radzinski shrugged. He was already preoccupied with the view down Marisol’s shirt.

  Ryan attempted to change topics from talk of their usually grim reality. “I played NCAA ball for half a season. That’s about the biggest thing I ever did,” His nonchalance about his all-too-brief sporting career betrayed his true feelings on the subject.

  Rachel picked up on it and decided it prudent to play along, lest someone else see it as a sore spot to exploit. “Why only one season? If you were good enough to get into a league school, they wouldn’t have dropped you like that for no reason.”

  “Oh, there is a reason. I—” Ryan had no chance to finish before Rachel continued her ribbing.