“I told you, Steph! This what we get for helping idiots!”
“Hey, next time don’t let the gate slam shut behind you.”
Curtis slowly turned to Paul and sharpened his gaze, the room growing quiet and cold. “What’d you just say?”
“You let the gate slam shut.”
“What was I supposed to do? Go back and get a lawn chair to prop it open? Fucking thing’s spring-loaded!” Curtis bumped him again and Paul shoved back with both hands, sending Curtis sprawling to his ass. Jumping to his feet, Wendy darted between them and pushed against their bloody chests.
“Enough! This isn’t helping anyone.”
“Curtis,” Troy said in a weak voice, coughing up some blood. “Back off and go get some air!”
He glared at Paul and pointed at Troy. “Anything happens to him and I’ll fucking kill you.”
A malicious grin swept through Paul’s clean shaven cheeks, hands balling into fists.
“Oh what? You think I’m scared just because you’re bigger than me?” Curtis spit on the Adidas Paul took from an abandoned Kohl’s store. “I’ve put bigger boys than you on their ass before, hoss.”
“Both of you stop it!” Stephanie turned a scowl loose on her younger brother. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t think these people have been through enough already? Everyone here is hurting, Curtis! Not just you!”
He stared past her at Paul in the thunderstruck silence that followed, his heated glower smoldering around the edges. Running a hand through his sandy blond hair, he grunted before stomping upstairs.
“Go take a shower!” Stephanie yelled after him. “A cold one!” She turned back to Paul and pulled dark hair over a shoulder, exhaling a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry, he’s just scared…and out of weed, which is a bad combination for all of us.”
Wendy wrinkled her brow. “Weed?” She traded a hesitant look with Paul and thumbed behind her. “I’ve…got some back on the boat.”
“You do?”
“And more guns,” Paul added.
“Then we’ll go back and soon.” Looking down, Stephanie surveyed her bloody tank top and jeans. “But first I need a shower. There’s one on each floor and clean clothes in the bedrooms.” Turning to Cora, she tried to smile. “We have solar power and plenty of hot water. There’s also a full bar around the corner and food in the fridge. Just help yourself.”
“Thank you,” Cora replied, sinking back into the chair.
Stephanie offered up a shallow nod and returned to Troy, the weight of the world hunching her shoulders like a demon riding her back.
Cora’s eyes bounced between Paul and Wendy while something that sounded like glass broke upstairs. Staggering to her feet, Cora lifted her brow. “Can I get y’all anything?”
Chapter Three
Wendy stepped out onto the back patio in a red bikini. Black high heels clicked against the pavers, the handgun strapped to her right thigh transforming her into a villain more suiting for a James Bond film. She was hell on high heels and incredibly beautiful and Paul hated her for it. Leaning back in a chaise lounge, he returned his attention to the beach, watching the birds pick at the corpses lying outside the fence. This was their life now and no one goes anywhere unstrapped. Not even in a bikini on the beach. He was just thankful to have the blood washed off. The hot shower was a break that breathed new life into his tired bones.
Clicking her heels back and forth in front of him, she strutted her stuff like she was on stage, begging for his dollars. Paul turned to her and peered over the top of some blue sunglasses he found in a dresser upstairs. “You look nice.”
She fanned a hand through the air at him. “This old thing?”
“Looks brand new.”
“It is. Still had the tags on it and everything.” Resting her hands on her curvy hips, she struck a pose with her wet hair blowing in the wind. “These people were so rich it’s not even funny.”
He inhaled the smell of soap and shampoo oozing from his pores. “I like the gun, too. Nice touch.”
“This is my new purse.”
“I’m not so sure about the heels though.”
“Well, I’m not going on a supply run in them; I just…” An impish smile bent her lips. “Wanted to look nice for a minute.” Her eyes trailed down his chest and stopped in his lap. “Those fit you good.”
He looked down to the white tank top and gray board shorts he found in the same dresser as the shades. “Place is like a clothing store in there.”
Sitting in a red chair next to him, she glanced back at the house. “Can you imagine living like this? Their vacation pad is stocked better than most regular houses.”
Paul took a long drink from a cold bottle of beer and turned back to the dead people on the beach, adjusting the 9mm that he felt naked without. “Yeah, sucks to lose it all like this.”
She leaned on her knees. “We’re all screwed now, even the rich.”
“How’s Troy?” Paul asked, inadvertently catching a glimpse down her skimpy top.
“Pale.”
He sighed and looked back out to sea, memories catching up to him like old ghosts. “I had to get out of there. It all…”
Wendy set a soft hand on his forearm. “I know.”
He watched the waves crash and the birds pick, shaking thoughts of Sophia and Dan from his head with everything he had. Grieving was a luxury they could no longer afford. “Stephanie still thinks he’s going to pull through.”
“I know, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.”
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Had to.” He took another drink. “She needs to be ready when he turns, and he will turn.” Paul glanced back at the house. “Where’s Cora?”
Leaning back, Wendy crossed her legs and let a heel dangle from her toes. “Asleep in one of the bedrooms.” A dramatic exhale ruffled her shiny red lips. “I still can’t believe she made it this far on her own.”
“On foot and unarmed? I thought I was seeing things at first.”
“I had no idea what you were doing when you took off down those stairs.” She twirled a wet lock around a finger. “I thought you were running to save that old man straggler.”
“What’re the odds she could make it this far on her own like that? And to this beach house?”
“She knew where we were going.”
“Yeah, but not to this very beach house. We didn’t even know we were coming here.”
Wendy shrugged. “She must be here for a reason.”
Paul snorted. “Yeah, to drink all our booze.”
“I mean something besides that.”
“All I know is they blame us for Troy and they’re right.”
“They don’t blame us.” She squished her lips into the side of her face. “Okay, Curtis blames us but it’s no one’s fault.”
Paul tipped the bottle back and finished it while Wendy coiled a strand of hair around a finger. “Curtis is going to shoot me when Troy turns and I’m calling it right now. That guy is totally unstable.”
“He’s not going to shoot you.”
“We should’ve never come here.”
“That’s not true.”
“Take a look around, Wendy! This place is just as unsafe as everywhere else.”
She let go of her hair. “Paul, don’t start second guessing yourself now or you’ll go crazy.”
“Start?” He laughed sharply. “Everyone I have tried to help has died. Everyone.”
“I haven’t.”
He turned back to the birds pecking at the dead, the future growing clearer with each hour that passed. “How long do you really think we can last against those…things? We’re just ordinary people. We’re not wired for this.”
She stared at him in the ocean silence that came next. “So what do you wanna do, Paul? Quit? Again?” She sighed. “Ya know, to be honest, I’m getting a little tired of your wishy-washy attitude.”
“Wishy-washy?”
; “Those things aren’t our biggest enemy, Paul; your doubt is our biggest enemy.”
He smiled tightly at her. “I doubt it.”
“You’re not funny. Look, I know you lost your wife and I know how much you loved her,” she said, placing a hand over her heart. “From my perspective, it seems like the most horrible thing in the world and I can’t imagine what you’re going through because it hurts to even try. I didn’t have someone like that so I’ll never know.” Her gaze lowered to her high heels. The waves crashed and the birds screeched. “You keep saying we’re just average people but that’s not true. Average people don’t survive this.”
“We’ve just gotten lucky.”
“Lucky? Is that what you call it? After everything we’ve been through, we’re still alive. No military training, no doomsday prepper supplies, no Live Strong bracelets, nothing.” Uncrossing her legs, she rested her elbows on her knees and folded her hands together. “Think about it. You made it out of Des Moines with a hunting shotgun and a handgun. I made it to the bar with nothing. Time and time again, we cheat death and I think something is keeping us alive.”
Paul frowned. “Something like what?”
“Something that means we are meant for bigger things than we ever dreamed of.” Wendy stared hard at him. “Much bigger.”
“Oh yeah, because this is way better than playing outfield for the Los Angeles Dodgers,” he grumbled, taking a swig from his already empty bottle.
Her voice fell to a whisper on the wind. “Something is happening. I can feel it.”
He grew quiet with a salty breeze licking his wet hair and the sun kissing his face. The only flaw in her theory was that something was keeping them alive…for now. Tomorrow could be a different story, or the day after that. The news stations used to love airing miraculous survival stories of a toddler found alive after being lost in the woods for three days straight, or someone surviving a plane crash or a mudslide or a tornado but this was different. This horror show was every second of every day and, sooner or later, their luck would run out.
“It’s not just luck,” she said, reading his mind and taking his hand. “And I need to know that you’re all in because that’s the only way we’re going to beat this thing, and we can beat it. But I have to hear you say it.”
He sharpened his gaze, Dan flittering through his weary mind. This wasn’t the first time someone had this talk with him and, suddenly, he felt ashamed by the developing pattern in his behavior. Wendy was right. It was time to piss or get off the pot. As ridiculous as it sounded, if something was keeping them alive, he owed it to these people to take advantage of it and put up a fight. At this point, the only thing he had left to lose was his life, which wasn’t worth two-shits. Pulling his hand from hers, Paul wiped sweat from his brow and exhaled into the wind. “I’m in.”
A faint smile crept back into the lines of her mouth. The horses whinnied and Curtis yelled something before more glass broke upstairs.
Wendy leaned back and spread her palms. “So do you want to go surfing or what?”
Tipping his head down, he peered at her over the top of his shades. “Not a chance.”
☠
Paul popped back up and pounded the water with his fists. “Sonofabitch!”
Wendy laughed out loud, straddling a surfboard with her legs dangling in the water. “You almost had that one!” Her smile morphed into an all business look as another wave slowly built behind her. Sliding to her stomach and paddling with it, she sprang to her feet when the water crested and rode the curl with her arms out and knees bent. A high-pitched cry shot from her as she zipped past Paul, spraying him with a quick turn of the board. He shook his head and watched her jump back into the water, grumbling beneath his breath. When she paddled back out, an unmistakable glow lit up her face.
“How do you do that?” he asked, straddling his board.
Her smile was unbreakable. “Beginners luck!”
“Okay, I think I’m done. This water is freezing and kicking my ass.” His thin gaze drifted back to the house. “We should go check on Troy.”
“Oh come on,” she said, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “You said a half hour.”
His eyes slid to the handguns lying on some brightly colored beach towels in the sand before sweeping back to the house where a gloomy outcome lingered like the smell of burnt toast. “I want to make sure everything is okay.”
“He was fine when we left.” Her lips pressed into a disappointed line. “Just one more. Pleeeease?”
He watched her bob on the surface with the sunlight sparkling in her eyes. “One more and that’s it,” he said, sliding to his stomach.
Shedding an impish grin, she paddled alongside him. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Yeah, until a riptide pulls us out to sea.”
“Paul Hessler, you say the sweetest things.”
He smiled at her and a high-pitched shriek went off in the distance, drawing his gaze to the shoreline. “Oh shit!” Clumsily turning in the water, Paul paddled hard for the beach where two people were running like hell toward the beach towels and guns. “Company!” he cried, trying to catch a wave back to shore that rolled under him and carried on alone. He paddled faster, water getting in his eyes and blurring the sprinting bodies into blurry dots zipping across the sand. It was a race to the guns, one that would undoubtedly come down to the wire.
Wendy blazed past on her surfboard, crouching low with a determined look on her face. But it was too late. She stopped and screamed when a tall man in jeans and a button down rushed into the water after her. He had to be at least 6’4” and over three hundred pounds with blood running from his nose and mouth in gooey globs. There was a patch of hair missing from the left side of his head and his female sidekick wasn’t in much better shape. Nose bitten off, one eye dangled from a bloody socket that reminded Paul of Dan. Wendy dodged the tall man’s scraping claws with a shriek and jumped off the board, swimming back to Paul. The man snatched the surfboard and yanked, towing her back to him by the ankle strap. She screamed just before dipping beneath the water.
Shaking from a spike of adrenaline, Paul undid the Velcro strap around his ankle and set the board free before swimming to her rescue. Wendy popped up, clear of the strap she must’ve undone while beneath the surface. Paul towed her into deeper water as the man pulled the board from the foam and stared at the empty leash. Rage tightened the lines in his rotted face as he realized Wendy had gotten away. Tossing the swallow tail onto the sand behind him, he howled, stirring the woman next to him into a frenzy. She paced back and forth in the shallows as the man waded in deeper.
Treading water with Wendy in his arms, Paul watched the surface rise above the man’s jeans, stomach shriveling along with his privates.
“He’s coming in,” Wendy panted.
The thing stopped when the ocean found his shoulders.
“It’s okay. He won’t come in any further. They can’t swim.” The fiend snarled and cursed at them in a foreign tongue that Paul understood all too well.
“What do we do?” Wendy spit some water out, clinging to Paul for dear life.
The portly woman came closer, stopping when the water rose above her thick knees, wetting the end of her shredded skirt. Matted hair swung across her face, doing little to hide her twisted sneer. Sunlight glimmered off the silver wedding bands digging into their swollen fingers, giving Paul the eerie feeling they’d been married and, for whatever reason, not even death could keep them apart.
“Paul!”
Blinking water from his eyes, he kicked to stay afloat, glancing at the guns just behind the gruesome twosome. “I’m going to swim down the shoreline and draw them from the towels. When they’re far enough away, you get the guns and shoot them.”
Wendy studied the creatures, indecision flickering in her eyes.
“We can do this, Wendy,” he said, jerking her from her doubt. “It will work. Trust me.”
She nodded faintly, her goose-pimpled skin shivering
against him.
When he tried swimming away she latched on tighter. “It’s okay,” he said, already getting tired from treading water. “They can’t get us out here. Just be ready to get to those guns.”
“Okay,” she panted, reluctantly releasing her death grip.
With the sun in his eyes, Paul swam parallel to the beach, like you would to escape a riptide. The dead man followed, tracking him like a coon dog. “That’s it, buddy,” Paul yelled over the crashing waves. “Soup’s on! Come and get it!”
The man took him up on the invitation, eagerly splashing through the shallows while his better half stayed put by the towels. “Shit,” Paul whispered, leading the heavyset man further down the beach. “Come on, lady!” He waved his arms over his head, hoping to attract the woman’s attention but her vacant gaze remained firmly fixed on Wendy. “Sonofabitch.”
Wendy seemed to get the message and started swimming in the opposite direction, drawing the dead woman away from the guns. Paul reversed course and swam back to the towels with the tall man following along the shoreline. He swam like hell but it wasn’t enough; the straggler was much faster on land and easily beat him back to the guns. Treading water, he watched the man splash in up to his waist while Wendy swam back over with the dead woman following in the wet sand. Paul couldn’t believe his eyes. They were working in tandem, somehow wise to his plan and it wasn’t possible. Those things couldn’t think, let alone outsmart him. No fucking way.
Wendy stopped next to him, hands doing figure eights through the water, breathing hard out her mouth. “Well, that didn’t work.”
Paul kicked faster to keep from swallowing more saltwater, his eyes locked on Mike and Molly standing side-by-side in the shallows. “They’re working together to keep us from getting the guns,” he panted.
“That’s impossible.”
“And they don’t plan on letting us get out anytime soon.”
Studying the monsters on shore, her eyes thinned into reflective slits. “If they were really smart, they’d step back and give us just enough room to make us think we’d have a chance of reaching our guns. Instead, they hover in the water like fools. Like we’re just going to just swim up and say here we are, enjoy your meal!” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “No, they may be able to think a little, but they’re still just dumb animals.”
Dead Series (Book 2): A Little More Dead: Gunfire & Sunshine Page 2