by Stevie Kopas
He quickly moved along the pathway and let himself into one of the ground-floor shops. There was nothing of sustenance left, he’d been sure to clear it out the last time he popped in. But there was a ton of plastic shopping bags inside and they’d need them to ensure the weapons stayed dry. Gary wasn’t willing to take any chances with faulty firearms. He knew that what they were about to do was not only stupid, but it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. Veronica and Catherine were doomed to the unspeakable if they were left there. Andrew was well on his way to turning, and Gary knew it was only a matter of time. How much time, he wasn’t sure, but if this plan was going to work, he needed to get Andrew to the other side of town while he was still alive.
Gary knew Andrew’s fate couldn’t be changed. He was also coming to terms with the fact that his home was lost, the supplies he’d worked so hard on collecting were unreachable, and he’d been betrayed by someone he’d trusted. They all had. And they’d paid dearly for it. Gary didn’t just want Michelle dead. He wanted her to suffer, and Andrew deserved to be the one to make her suffer more than any of them.
He returned to the brothers, handing them the bags. “Take these, put your weapons in them.”
Andrew smiled, admiring the bag in his hand. “Always thinking. Thanks, Gary.”
Gary nodded and went about securing everything, and when the three men were ready to leave, Gary turned to take in the magnificence of the Emerald City towers one last time. But the trio of buildings took on an almost ghostly appearance in the dusk, their beauty suddenly fading. Gary no longer saw them as a place of grandiose solace. They had become just as poisonous as everything else in this world.
“Let’s go.” Gary turned and left the resort behind him for good. He led the way from the pool deck, trotting along the sand toward the Jet Ski rentals.
He pulled keys from their hooks in the beach hut and tossed them to the other men, running toward the watercrafts.
Andrew struggled with getting his to the shore line.
“Hop on back of mine, we don’t have time!” Clyde shouted to his brother, pointing at a large group of eaters growing dangerously close.
Gary fired his up first. “Get a move on!” he shouted at the brothers as he took off toward the boat, a stream of water spraying in his wake.
A knot formed in Clyde’s stomach; there was barely any light left in the sky. He’d ridden a dozen of these things before in his life, but never at night. He feared falling off into water and being pulled under by the bloated, hungry hands of the dead or losing Andrew off the back, somehow. But it was a risk he would have to take.
As the Jet Ski cranked to life, Andrew hopped on behind his brother and patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here!”
Clyde took one last look at the approaching horde of eaters and shivered. He pulled back on the throttle and followed Gary into the night.
X
Gary leapt aboard The Dockside and awaited the arrival of his companions. The boat rocked gently and he looked around; it was nearly pitch-black. He shivered as the wind sent a chill down his spine. He rushed inside, flipping the lights on, making the boat easier for the brothers to find.
The whine of the watercraft grew closer and Clyde drove it around to the stern. “Get in the water,” he instructed Andrew.
“Oh man, I do not like this part of the plan.” Andrew considered the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of the dark waters. He pulled his boots off, one by one, and threw them onto the boat. He grimaced as he dipped a foot into the frigid water and quickly pulled it back out. He imagined an enormous shark, smiling a razor-sharp grin, waiting to gobble him up. He couldn’t help but laugh as he then considered the bite, his death sentence, and figured whatever could be lurking in the dark water was a far better fate.
Andrew pulled off the rest of his clothes and inhaled deeply, plunging into the salty darkness, the low temperature nearly taking his breath away. He floated, weightless, and embraced the silence. He was filled with a peace and serenity he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He let his legs rise up and wished he could float there forever.
His chest began to burn and he opened his eyes. A bright, white light was before him.
God, is that you?
Hands grasped at Andrew’s shoulders and pulled him toward the light.
“What the fuck you doin’ down there?” Clyde hollered at his brother as he broke the surface.
Andrew gasped, gulping in air and coughing as the men pulled him aboard.
“I saw a light. I thought—“
“Ah, heaven should be so lucky to have a man like me.” Gary laughed, grinning from ear to ear, the lights on the deck shining brightly behind him. “You’re not goin’ anywhere just yet.”
Clyde scowled. “Get your ass up, scarin’ me like that. You were down there for over two damn minutes.” He helped Andrew to his feet and handed him his clothing.
As Andrew dressed, he felt rejuvenated. The soreness in his arm from the bite had subsided, and the fever seemed to disappear. His vision was clear, as was his head. He wasn’t sure how long he’d feel this good, but was thankful that his brother’s plan had worked so well.
Gary entered the cabin, searching for anything useful. There were still a few bottles of water left and he helped himself to one, chugging its contents. He returned to the men outside, handing them each a bottle.
They exchanged their thanks and Gary headed for the helm. He started the vessel up and inspected the instrument panel. They were lucking out left and right as everything seemed to be in working order. The only concern was gas. They barely had enough to get to their destination.
“Tear this place apart, see if there’s any extra fuel on board!” he called to the others.
A short time later, Clyde brought Gary a small gas can. “Found it under one of the seats.”
“Brilliant!” Gary clapped his hands, smiling. He took the can from Clyde. “I’ll take care of this, you tend to the anchor.”
The men readied for departure while Andrew sat quietly inside. He pulled his shirt back and inspected his wound. While the bleeding had stopped, it oozed green and smelled terrible. He hoped the saltwater had helped to clean it, but it wasn’t looking so great. Not only was the wound itself black, but the surrounding area was necrotic. He poked at it and winced in anticipation of pain, but he felt nothing. He squeezed around his bicep; there was only numbness. He felt a small ball of panic begin to form as he poked and prodded up and down his arm, feeling only pins and needles.
“Drew.” Clyde entered the cabin.
Andrew looked up his brother, subtly pulling his sleeve back down. “Hey. We ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Clyde readjusted his hair in a ponytail as he sat beside Andrew. They were silent for a moment. “I want you to know that I love you.” He put an arm around his brother and squeezed him tight.
“I love you too, man.” Andrew felt tears well up in his eyes. “Who the hell is gonna take care of you when I’m gone?”
Clyde wiped a tear away and laughed. “Sheeit, I’m tryin’ to figure out what I’m gonna do with myself once I don’t have to take care of your ass anymore.”
The brothers chuckled and embraced. Nothing more needed to be said. They both knew how fortunate they already were to have had each other for this long.
Gary tapped at the door. “Sorry to interrupt.” His face was solemn, having overheard the exchange of words. “We should be going.”
Clyde and Andrew stood up and followed Gary outside.
***
The Dockside tore off through the night toward its destination. The cold air whipped around, misting the even-colder saltwater onto them, chilling noses and ears. They grew nearer to the marina and Gary spotted a good area for them to disembark. The craft was just the right size to pull into the vacant slip and Gary killed the engine and the lights. Clyde put his fingers to his lips and let out a long whistle, hoping to draw out the dead. Gary and Andrew joined him at the bow and th
ey held their breath, staring out into the darkness, awaiting the cries of the eaters.
All that could be heard were the gulf waters kissing the boats in the marina.
“I guess that’s a good sign. Should we go ahead and tie the boat off?” Clyde whispered.
“No,” Andrew said. “You’re not comin’ with us.”
“What the fuck?” Clyde raised his voice, his hands on his hips. “What you mean, I’m not coming?”
Andrew turned to his brother, his tone soft yet serious. “I’m not comin’ back, Clyde. And if Gary and the others don’t make it back...” He sighed, “At least one of us has to make it through all of this.”
Clyde felt the tears struggling to return and he fought them with every ounce of his being. He thought of himself alone on that boat, in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, at the end of the world. “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t care where. Just far, far away from here.” Andrew pulled his brother in and hugged him tightly.
“Don’t worry, mate, I’ll be back.” Gary placed a reassuring hand on Clyde’s shoulder, even though he wasn’t very sure how the night might end. “Catherine, Veronica, and I, we’d never leave you alone out here.”
Clyde frowned. “Well, hurry the fuck up.”
Gary and Andrew gathered their stockpile of weaponry. Andrew stepped off the boat, giving his brother a wave and a sad smile. They’d said what needed to be said in the cabin; he didn’t think he couldn’t handle the word “goodbye”.
Gary placed a flare gun in Clyde’s hands. “The clock on this boat still works. You get this boat out of here and anchor a good distance away, alright? There are two flares here, you fire one in thirty minutes, the other at sixty. If we haven’t returned by then, leave.”
Clyde swallowed the lump in his throat and agreed.
Gary clapped him on the back, putting a hand on his shoulder. “See you soon.” He stepped off beside Andrew, and Clyde watched as they walked away. He squinted and kept his eyes on Andrew as he disappeared from sight. He knew the moment would come, but it wasn’t easy to deal with. He’d never see his brother, his best friend, ever again. And it broke his heart into tiny pieces.
Clyde pulled the boat out of the slip and headed back out into the gulf. When he was a safe distance away, he lowered the anchor and sobbed his heart out.
Part III
Come To An End
I
Ben’s body fell to the ground. His head slumped to the side, his lifeless gaze falling on Michelle. She sneered before spitting on his corpse.
“Well, well. Seems like you two had quite the past.” Drake pulled the cigar from his teeth and ashed on Ben’s dead body.
“We didn’t have anything.” She crossed her arms and looked up at Drake.
“Feedin’ time!” He hollered out to the men who weren’t tending to the fence. He turned back to Michelle. “Well, if you’re gonna be a part of my crew, you’re gonna follow me.”
She hesitated, narrowing her eyes, wondering if she’d really made the best decision.
“C’mon girl,” Drake urged her on. “You’re gonna love this shit.”
Two of his men picked up Ben’s body and followed. They ascended the cement steps and entered the enormous office building. It smelled like an old bar mixed with piss. Graffiti lined the glass and walls of the once-pristine offices. Each separate office was now someone’s disgusting bedroom, or in Veronica and Catherine’s case, their prison cell.
Veronica banged on the shatterproof glass and screamed. Ben hung lifelessly in the arms of two skinheads, his feet dragging behind him. She screamed so loud her throat began to burn, and she grabbed a desk chair from behind her. With all her might, she heaved it at the glass. With a thud, the chair bounced from the shatterproof glass and clattered to the floor.
Catherine sat on the floor, her hands over her ears. “Veronica, please stop it.” She sobbed.
Veronica’s chest heaved, her fists clenched so tightly she thought her fingers might break. She pounded and kicked at the glass, throwing her body into the door.
Michelle gave a sickening wave as she passed and Veronica threw herself against the glass once more, a string of curse words and insults spilling from her mouth.
“Ain’t she a feisty one?” Drake remarked.
“Who? Nancy Drew? She’s harmless.” Michelle snickered. She looked back at the teen once more and met Veronica’s eyes.
If looks could kill.
Drake led the way to a stairwell in the far right corner of the main lobby, he opened it and swept his arm forward. “After you.”
Michelle stepped into the dark, her nerves getting the better of her, her stomach fluttering for a moment.
“Go on, girl, up the steps,” one of Drake’s men ordered.
She climbed the staircase and reached a metal door; she pushed forward on the bar and light filled the stairwell. The overwhelming yet familiar stench of death greeted her as she stepped out onto the roof. She walked forward, gravel crunching under her feet and her mouth dropped open.
“Holy fuck.” She shook her head and couldn’t hide her smile even if she tried as she stepped up to the ledge. “This is genius!”
“Yeah it is.” Drake replied matter-of-factly, standing beside her now, a smug look on his face. He relit his cigar and puffed his chest out. “Impressed yet?”
The entire front of the lot was full of eaters. Hundreds of them. They had nowhere to go, as Drake and his men had fashioned the area with reinforced fencing. They’d even jerry-rigged a full-height security turnstile in the center.
“How the hell…” Michelle’s sentence trailed off as she gazed in awe.
“You’d be amazed at what you can steal from a prison,” Drake said, admiring his handi-work. “With enough manpower, you can do anything.” He pointed at the massive crowd below, “Guard dogs, I like to call ‘em. ‘Til that half-assed posse you were with showed up, we ain’t had a lick of trouble. I guess we gotta get to work on riggin’ us another one of these out back.”
The turnstile let the eaters in, but kept them from getting back out, corralling them into what Drake called his homemade security system.
“The smell, the noise, all their other little dead friends draw them to the front, so I haven’t had to worry ‘bout the back of the lot at all.” He frowned. “Trial and error, I guess.”
“Well, I am impressed.” Michelle smirked at the enormous man beside her. She had her suspicions of these men being part of a gang. They’d all dressed the same, and for the most part, had matching tattoos. Now she had confirmation that they were, in fact, prison gang members. Drake eyed her up and down and she felt the butterflies again, her nerves waking back up. She wondered if this decision was going to come back and kick her in the ass, but she shrugged off the apprehension, pretending not to notice his intense stare. She always took care of herself; if worse came to worst, she’d figure a way out of this.
“Alright fellas, the dogs are hungry.” Drake looked over to the two men on the roof closest to him. He motioned toward the ravenous, screaming dead. With their arms in the air, flailing, it appeared as if they were actually begging Drake to feed them.
The two skinheads picked Ben’s body back up, swinging it once, twice, and finally heaving it out over the ledge. The eaters began to wail and howl as Ben’s corpse soared overhead. It landed with a sickening crunch on the asphalt and the hungry dead pushed and pulled, climbing over one another, fighting for a piece of the fresh meat.
“Hmmph,” Michelle mumbled. “Didn’t think they ate what was already dead.”
“I’m pretty damn sure they eat anything,” Drake replied.
The crowd on the roof watched as Ben was ripped to shreds. The eaters’ jaws chomped down on whatever part of him they could. They tore his limbs from his torso and emptied him of his entrails in a bloody frenzy. In a matter of minutes, there was barely anything left of Ben at all.
***
Veronica sat cross-legg
ed on the desk, finally quiet, finally still. Inside, she seethed. She watched through the glass as the skinheads beyond her office prison cell laughed and joked, smoking and drinking, some of them shooting up with filthy needles. She noticed that some of the other rooms had a few women in them. They lie half-naked on stained mattresses, barely conscious. Veronica may have never shot up any drugs herself, but she knew that’s what they were doing to these poor women.
Veronica cringed. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She’d rather die than end up one of their brainless sex slaves.
Catherine had finally stopped crying. She sat in her same spot on the floor, her knees pulled into her chest, head resting against the cool glass. Her bloodshot eyes were set ahead in a blank stare, her lips cracked and dry.
“Catherine.” Veronica looked at the woman. There was no response. “Catherine,” she repeated, louder this time.
Catherine finally looked up at her.
“We have to do something. We have got to get out of here.” Veronica dropped from the desk and kneeled on the floor in front of Catherine, cupping her hands around the redhead’s face. “Are you listening to me?”
“There isn’t anything we can do,” Catherine responded, not looking at Veronica.
“Yes, there is. Do you see what’s in those other rooms?” Veronica pointed, putting a finger up against the glass. “That’s not going to be us. I’d rather die.”
“They killed Ben.” Catherine’s eyes filled with tears again.
“I know.” Veronica clenched her teeth and swallowed; she was sick with grief, but as with all other losses she’d experienced, there wasn’t any time for it. Ben, just as Samson, had become her family. And now she’d lost all semblance of family and everything that came with it.
She knew in her heart that these sick men at the dealership didn’t have any intentions of killing her or Catherine; they had their own devious plans for them. Her mind was made up. She was getting out of here, or she would force their hand.