Woody nodded again. “Think about it,” he said, glancing at Laura. “A bunch of birds killin all those pigs…”
They stared at him slack-jawed, the microwave beeping in the silence that followed.
“Jailbirds,” Woody said slowly.
Rory dropped his head and laughed. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Clutch, but seriously, dude, you can’t even bring em in the car.”
Rory studied Woody through perplexed eyes. “Bring what? My phone?”
“Kate will totally search your stuff.”
“What if we have a car problem?”
“We’re taking two cars,” Woody said matter-of-factly. “This is old school camping, bro! I’m sure we’ll survive.”
Rory grunted and turned to his mom. “If this was a horror movie, those would be famous last words.”
Laura nodded rapidly, a tight smile gripping her face.
Rory leaned back and frowned. “Well, how am I supposed to make people jealous of my life if I can’t post anything on Facebook?”
Laura laughed. “The only person who’s going to be jealous of your life is a ten-year-old!”
“Oooh burn!”
Rory shook his head. “Funny.”
Woody glanced at his watch and uncrossed his leg. “Oh crap, we should probably get going. We have to hit Walmart and then meet everyone at Doc’s at two.”
“When are you coming back?” Laura asked, taking the plate from the microwave and setting it on the counter while Woody stole another glance of her butt as she pulled the white sleeve from the Lean Pocket and deposited it in the trash.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said blankly, admiring the way her black running pants hugged every inch of her slender body. She turned back around and Woody pretended he was messing with his phone.
“Make sure you are. We’ve got more storms rolling in tomorrow afternoon,” she said, bringing her lunch to the table and taking a seat with them. “Listen, I want to be serious with you boys about something for a minute,” she said gravely.
Rory and Woody looked up from their phones and found her sober eyes.
“Those woods out there by the lake are crawling with lycan so I want you to be extra careful.”
Rory and Woody traded glances. “Lycan?” they said together.
“Old man Hinkle saw one just last week out by the old visitor center,” she continued, spooning some yogurt into her mouth.
“Old man Hinkle? What is this, Scooby Doo?”
“Don’t make light of what you don’t understand, Rory!” she snapped.
He rolled his eyes and got up from the table. “I’m going to jump in the shower before she starts talking about the man who lives in the basement.”
Her eyes followed him out of the kitchen. “He just wants to be your friend!”
Rory waved a hand through the air and disappeared into the living room.
Woody returned his attention to Laura and hesitated before speaking again. “What the hell’s a lycan?”
Chapter Three
Rory and Woody galloped down the stairs, their arms loaded with camping gear.
“Can you bring Scout inside before you leave?” Laura asked from the couch, leafing through a copy of Shape magazine. “I don’t want to get attacked by some knife-wielding pervert while I’m home alone.”
“Riiiight,” Rory said, crossing the living room and pushing the screen door open with his foot. Woody followed him out onto the front porch and down the steps, where they stepped into the sun-splashed day. It was warm for early June with white, fluffy clouds lazily drifting across the blue sky above; the kind of day where everything seemed more colorful than the one before it.
Woody let a tent and small backpack tumble from his arms into the trunk of his white Pontiac Grand Am parked in the double drive. “Man, your mom is morbid.”
Rory dumped his sleeping bag, Thermarest, and pillow next to Woody’s gear and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Ya think? I’m the one who grew up across the street from a funeral home. Remember?”
Woody reached up and slammed the trunk shut with both hands. “But she’s so hot! It’s all very confusing.”
“Okay, we’re not going down this road again.”
“I have got to hit that!”
Rory’s face grew rigid. “No, you don’t,” he said flatly.
Woody looked to the sky and let his eyes wander from focus. “And it’ll probably all start with an innocent foot massage…”
“No, it won’t.”
Woody laughed and slapped Rory in the arm. “Come on, Ror-dog, you can bang my mom.”
Rory’s face soured. “Your mom is sixty-seven.”
Woody leaned against the trunk and folded his thin arms across his chest. “Hey, if Rachel doesn’t work out there’s always Ashley. Or as I like to call her…hood ornament.”
Rory screwed his face up. “Does she still have herpes?”
Woody squinted at him. “I don’t think that ever goes away.”
“Ever?”
Woody shrugged. “Just don’t let her drink out of your cup.”
Rory nodded, dropping his gaze to the driveway and looking back up. “How’s Kate doing?”
Woody’s face slumped. “Oh no, that baby back rib is all mine, dude!”
Rory glanced across the street to a man getting out of a gold colored van with fancy stenciling swirling across its side. “You and Kate work together. Trust me, Woods, you don’t want to cross that line. Things will get creepy real fast.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who has a problem with it, but I think tonight might be my shot. I’ve been getting this weird vibe from her ever since she dumped her boyfriend last month.”
“So it’s settled then,” Rory replied, waving to the man, who waved back. “I’ll go for Kate and you get Ashley.”
Woody’s jaw dropped. “What now?”
Rory nodded to the backyard and began walking.
Woody sat on the trunk for a moment longer, watching the tall man disappear through the funeral home’s grand front doors. “Speakin of creepy.”
Rory glanced over his shoulder and followed Woody’s gaze. “Connor? He’s okay.”
“Bet he puts lipstick on dead people with his pants off.”
Rory laughed out loud and resumed his course to the backyard. “Why do you say that?”
Woody took a couple of hurried steps to catch up. “My sister said he was stalking some chick she worked with at the Longhorn.”
“Your sister talks shit about everyone,” Rory replied, unlatching the gate in the wooden privacy fence.
“Said he was waiting by the chick’s car when she got off work one night,” Woody continued, following Rory into the backyard, where the German Shepherd immediately began bounding around the pool and into the plush green grass.
“Seriously?” Rory said, kneeling down to greet the large dog. “That’s a good boy!” he laughed, as Scout flicked his wet tongue across his cheeks.
“I guess he drove off just before she got to her car,” Woody said, scratching Scout behind his long furry ears.
Rory stood back up and started for the large patio door. “Come on, boy,” he said, tapping his leg. Scout trotted along at his side, his tail wagging back and forth a million miles an hour.
“Then she died.”
Rory stopped and turned. The sun bounced off the blue pool water, casting dancing sparkles onto their faces while a lone siren howled in the distance. Scout took a seat in the grass and patiently waited, his tongue lolling out the corner of his mouth as he looked around the yard and panted. Rory frowned. “She died?”
Woody nodded.
Rory shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. “And what, your sister thinks Connor had something to do with it?”
“No, the girl had some kind of brain aneurism or something. Probably from eating too much of the Longhorn’s shitty food.”
Rory’s expression fell. “Bullshit.”
“Swear to Go
d.”
“Do you want me to sick Scout on you? Is that what you want?”
Woody chuckled. “That old joke again? That dog runs from bunnies.”
Rory turned to Scout and pointed hard at Woody. “KILL!”
Scout stared at Rory and panted, unable to grasp the concept of pointing. He nudged Rory’s hand with a cold nose and barked once.
“See?” Woody smiled.
“If I had given him the real attack command, you’d be…”
Woody held up a hand to stop him from going any further. “Dead before I hit the ground. Yeah, yeah.”
Anger stole across Rory’s face. “He could stop a Terminator if he wanted to!”
Scout yawned and ran his tongue around the edges of his snout.
Woody arched an eyebrow. “There is no attack command and there never has been. When are you going to give it up?”
“Oh, there’s an attack command. Just pray you never hear it,” Rory said softly, tapping his leg and crossing over to the patio.
“Oh, I’ll pray all right.”
Rory slid the glass door back and followed Scout into the air-conditioned kitchen.
Chapter Four
Stu stopped running and bent over, gasping for air. He squinted down the shoreline in the late afternoon sun. “Boomer!” The black lab stopped frolicking in the water and turned, his ears lifting into the air as if Stu might have just said something about a doggie treat. “Come on, buddy!” Stu yelled with a wave. Boomer hesitated and then galloped into the hot sand, his tags jingling around a red collar. “Let’s walk it out for a while, huh buddy? I’ve got a major cramp.” He rubbed the black lab’s shiny wet head and stood back up. Boomer shook back and forth, spraying him with lake water.
“Hey!” Stu laughed as a flock of geese flew over the tree line and swooped down, honking and splashing into a tranquil Lake Darling. Boomer watched the waterfowl with engrossed eyes, somehow resisting the urge to leave his master’s side.
“Oh wait a minute, I think we’ve got a live one here, Boom,” Stu whispered, causing the lab to look over to the approaching silhouette of someone with a small dog. When Stu noticed the long brown hair and short shorts on the woman coming his way, he was happy to be wearing sunglasses. He started walking towards her, acting like he wasn’t staring at the way her plump breasts bounced inside a little red tank top as she power walked across the sand. “Just remember, Boom,” he murmured. “Play cute and cuddly until I get her number. Then you can go back to your normal self. Okay?”
Boomer barked one time and shook more water from his coat.
“Atta boy,” Stu whispered, trying to round up his best opening line. This was the hard part. At least in a bar everyone had some of the liquid courage worming through their veins. It didn’t matter if it was the grocery store, or the gym, or the bookstore, he always felt like a creep approaching women without at least a good four-beer buzz swirling around his head. But he was tired of meeting women in the bars. They were always the same old sloppy drunks with shady pasts who didn’t know when to leave the next morning.
Unfortunately, women weren’t exactly falling head over heels to date a balding insurance salesman, but at thirty-seven time wasn’t on his side. Most of his friends already had kids in high school and in a town this small, the good ones went quick.
Boomer couldn’t restrain himself for another second and took off running down the sandy beach, quickly closing on some geese drifting closer to shore. The brunette’s tiny dog jerked backwards on its leash and released a panicked round of high-pitched yelps as Boomer zipped past.
“Sorry bout that,” Stu said, watching the black lab leap into the murky water and scare the large birds into flight. “That dog is nuts. I should probably have him looked at.”
The pretty brunette turned and watched Boomer with a hand shielding her eyes from the sinking sun. “Aw, he’s so cute. What’s his name?”
Stu tried not to stare at the nipples poking through her tank top, knowing it would only fluster him. “Stu, I mean, Boomer. He’s Boomer, I’m Stu,” he said sheepishly, sticking his hand out.
Her eyes dropped to his extended hand and hovered. Stu cringed, knowing he had just officially creeped her out because, after all, he was a stranger. And strangers were bad.
“I’m Tanya,” she smiled, taking his hand and shaking it with a firm grip.
Relief washed over him as he held her onto hand for a few seconds too long. “And who’s this?” he asked, releasing his hold and looking down at the fluffy Pomeranian dancing nervously around their feet.
“This is Chloe,” Tanya replied warmly, untangling the leash from her toned legs.
“Wow, she looks dangerous.”
Tanya giggled and brushed a long strand of hair from her mouth. “She likes to think she is.”
“Looks like she’s been working out.”
Tanya laughed harder, making her boobs bounce. “She keeps me in shape, that’s for sure.” Tanya bent over and pet Chloe on her furry head. “Don’t you, girl?” Chloe licked her lips and returned her attention to Boomer.
“Hi Chloe,” Stu said in a high-pitched voice, bending over to pet her. Chloe viciously snapped at his fingers. “Holy crap!” he yelled, pulling his hand back as the dog charged him, barking like hell.
Tanya yanked on the leash, her face folding. “Chloe no! Oh my God, did she get you?” she asked, covering her mouth and trying not to laugh.
Stu studied his fingers and exhaled a relieved breath. “No, but that was a close one.”
“That is a bad girl!” she scolded, glaring at the dog. Chloe stopped barking and sat in the sand, watching Boomer sniff the water now up to his belly. “I’m sorry; she’s not very good with strangers yet.”
“Man, you need to get her to the Dog Whisperer or something. That guy will have Chloe doing dishes in an apron before you know it.”
Tanya chuckled, squinting at him with beautiful brown eyes that reflected the bright sun in the western sky. “Now that would be a trick! She’s only two, so I guess it’s not too late to teach her some new ones. How old is Boomer?”
“He’s six, going on three,” he smiled. “He’s a big baby but he’s a really good dog.” Stu took a deep breath of the fresh country air and trailed off into an awkward silence. Small lake waves lapped at the shoreline while his mind worked double-time, trying to scrape together something witty to say before she told him to have a nice day and went on her way.
“I think I saw you two out here last Friday about this time.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, we were out here on Friday,” he said, shocked that he had not only missed this brunette beauty, but that she remembered him as well.
The wind gently tugged on her long hair, making her look like she was posing for a swimsuit catalog. “It’s so beautiful out here,” she smiled, gazing across the placid water.
Stu turned to the small lake he had grown up fishing and swimming in, along with everyone else in town. It definitely held a certain charm but one he had come to take for granted.
“We just moved here last week.”
His eyes jerked back to Tanya, who was smiling at Chloe. Stu’s blood began pumping louder in his ears. It was a Christmas miracle come early, or late. Regardless, God had given him first crack at a new transplant to town and he would not let God down. “Oh yeah? Where from?”
“Rochester, Minnesota.”
“Rochester? Wow, you lose a bet or something?”
Her sweet laugh lit up his world. “No, I just took the Operations Manager position at the Clear Channel cluster here in town.”
He paused. “The radio stations?”
She nodded, pulling more hair from her tanned face.
“That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, I really like it here. The people are so nice.”
He nodded. “They really are. All twenty-seven of em.”
A short giggle escaped her full red lips. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad. Are you
from here?”
“Born and raised.”
“So what do you do for fun around here anyway? Other than come out to the lake.”
Bells and whistles started going off in his mind like he had just hit the big one on a million dollar slot inside Caesar’s Palace. “Well to be honest, there’s so much to do around here,” he embellished. “And I’d hate to see you get lost in our sprawling metropolis.” Stu took a quick breath as she smiled bashfully in the setting sun. “Maybe I could take you on a personal tour…this weekend. If you’re not busy.” His eyebrows rose into his forehead and she dropped her gaze to the sand.
Floodwater Zombies Page 3