by Hunter Shea
“We’ll find Miguel, I promise. And I’ll find something a little better than a root cellar.” She felt his breath against her neck.
Daring to look out the window, she went stiff as a board.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, breaking their embrace.
She pointed out the window. “Look. It’s Buck and Alexiana.”
Their neighbors squatted behind a van, just half a block away from the feeding dogs. Elizabeth tensed. What if the dogs see them? We can’t just sit here and watch. We have to do something.
A waterfall of relief cascaded over her when she saw them sneak away. They watched Buck and Alexiana run, hunched over, heads low, in the direction of the train station.
“Daniel, you have to get them.”
When she turned, he was already checking the clip of their remaining pistol. He spotted a metal pole, probably used to prop something up, behind the bar.
“I’ll be back. Just keep looking for Miguel or the Nine Judges. And don’t let Max follow me.”
“I will. I won’t.” She kissed him, tasting the salt of his sweat. She listened to him clambering down the stairs and went back to her watch.
129
Alexiana was shoved hard in the back and went to her knees, her palms skidding on the concrete. The flesh of her hands burned. When she tried to get up, a foot on her lower back pressed her down.
Buck was still standing, staring at the gang member, the lower half of his face hidden by the black bandanna.
Who are they still hiding from? There’s no one left to call the police. For all we’ve seen, there aren’t any police to call. Of all the people rotting in their homes, how the hell do these pieces of trash rate survival?
With the masks on, she couldn’t fathom what they were saying. One of them, his eyes glassy, bloodshot (I’m sure they’ve managed to find all the dope they can smoke), crouched close to her, looking her in the eye. The bandanna moved in and out as he spoke. When she didn’t—couldn’t—answer, he kicked her in the shoulder. Bright flares of agony flickered in her periphery.
Despite the pain, she pushed with her arms to get up. The foot returned to her back, shoving her hard, knocking the wind from her lungs.
“Buck!”
He looked toward her, his face an unreadable mask, which meant he was planning something. Normally, she would have begged him to just do what they said, endure whatever crap they felt like dishing out, and let them move on when they were bored.
Things were no longer normal. Somehow, this gang had eluded the winds of death that swept through the city. Maybe she and Buck had been spared to finish what had been started.
Buck spoke, and the gang member who had kicked her jumped to his side, yelling into his ear.
Alexiana inched her hand into her pocket. She’d moved her pistol to her front pocket for some unknown reason earlier.
Maybe none of them were in control of their own actions anymore.
Her fingertips touched steel.
130
“You are one dumb motherfucker,” the gang member said. His chestnut head was shaved down to his irregularly shaped skull. How many skull fractures does it take to get a noggin like that? Buck thought. Or was his mother on drugs when she was pregnant?
Their bikes leaned against the stairwell leading to the train platform. It looked like they had just come from raiding the station. Plastic shopping bags were laden with packaged snacks and cans.
“What made you think you could keep on steppin’ after we took your kid?” he said, jabbing Buck’s chest with a finger that felt as if it were made of iron.
Buck’s jaw clenched, and he fought hard to keep his voice even. “What made you think we were just going to let you take our kid?”
Lumpy Head laughed as another of the gang jumped over to him, shouting a string of curses so close to his ear it hurt.
“Little Man is safer with us than with your raggedy asses. Where are your other friends? We heard a lot of bad shit going down last night. Those horses are fucking crazy, man. If they come for you, you ain’t got much of a chance. But then, you already know that, don’t you?”
Every muscle in Buck’s body constricted. God, he wanted to land a haymaker right in this punk’s mouth.
“Yeah, your little crew is a lot thinner, which shows me you weren’t fit to watch over your own. We have jobs for Little Man to do. And see, we watch each other’s backs.”
Buck sneered. “Oh, like the ones we killed by the overpass? The ones you turned tail from and left behind? I’ll bet right now some dogs are shitting them out so the flies can eat the rest.”
All of the air exploded from him as he was hammered in the stomach. Acidic bile lurched up his throat, spluttering from his lips. Matching blows landed on each kidney. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he faced an inviting darkness.
Still on his feet and swaying, Buck wiped the vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re awful tough when you’re surrounded by your little lackeys. You afraid of a man forty years older than you?”
Lumpy Head punched him in the chest. Buck felt his heart actually stutter.
“What the fuck you say?”
Fighting to keep his breath, to keep from falling over, Buck looked down at Alexiana. Her hand was in her pocket and he could see her elbow bend slightly.
Keep their eyes on you!
“I used to eat chickenshits like you for breakfast when I was in the navy. You’re not original or special. Dick skins like you are in every port. You’re tough as nails when you outnumber a guy, but you shit your diapers when it’s one-on-one.”
Lumpy Head turned to his posse. “You hear this guy? Holy crap, he must have woken up and decided today was the day he wanted to die.”
The gang laughed along with him.
Buck spat, a green glob that landed on Lumpy Head’s chest. “You all may kill me, but you’ll have to live knowing you’re weaker than an old man.”
The barrage of blows came before he could brace himself.
131
Before he’d left, Daniel took a quick peek at the scene with the unlucky couple. The dogs had dragged off most of the pieces. The few that were left scrabbled for the remains.
They probably took their prizes somewhere they could eat in peace, then sleep.
He thought he should be safe if he turned left, keeping two blocks between himself and the dwindled pack, staying downwind of them. His body was bone-weary, yet he ran. Buck and Alexiana were close. He had to find them.
Running past the two boardwalk restaurants to the left of YO2, he turned right, the public library dead ahead. Dipping into the shade of the train overpass, his foot caught on something solid and he pitched forward, a bottle shattering underneath him when he hit the ground.
Shards of glass dug into the flesh of his belly. Moaning, he turned onto his back, inspecting the damage.
The glass was green and had mercifully broken into small bits.
“Heineken,” he muttered, pulling them from the fabric of his shirt and skin, leaving behind red spots of fire. “I knew I didn’t drink you for a reason.”
He could have disemboweled himself. The overpass was filthy. Infection would be sure to follow.
Daniel gasped, clambering away when he noticed what he’d tripped on.
A homeless man, little more than untold layers of overcoats and facial hair, lay on his back, dead, old bloodstains smearing his cheeks. His eyelids were open, but something had eaten out the eyeballs themselves.
Picking up the pole, Daniel resumed his run, ignoring the remaining glass in his stomach.
As he turned the corner, he looked straight down to the station.
There were Buck and Alexiana. They were surrounded by Nine Judges. Alexiana was already on the ground, and Buck was sinking to his knees under a vicious beating.
He ran to them, heedless of the danger. His first instinct was to shout, but it was probably best if he could take them unawares.
; When the gunshot cracked, he froze.
132
It was strange, bordering on dreamlike.
Alexiana felt the kick of the gun when she pulled the trigger. She saw the fountain of blood erupt from one of the gang member’s backs as he fell forward, tumbling over Buck.
Not hearing the shot or the pained scream of the gang member somehow removed her a level from the scene. It was like watching someone else from behind soundproof glass.
Everyone backed away from Buck, training their cold eyes on her.
She fired again, an echo-less plume of smoke and fire. The bullet grazed the bald guy’s head, taking his ear along for the ride. His hand shot up to the hole where his ear had been, and he shouted something at her, spittle flying from his lips like a rabid dog.
“Fuck you,” she said, pulling the trigger again. This time, he leapt to the side and she missed him entirely.
Something cold and hard pressed into her cheek. She looked up. The one with the bloodshot eyes held a gun to her face. If he was giving her any parting words, they were lost to her.
She wanted to reach out for Buck’s hand, to feel him one more time, but he lay unconscious, too far out of her reach.
Make this something that will haunt him for whatever short time he has left, she thought.
So she looked to her executioner and smiled. His eyes narrowed, the bandanna moving again.
Alexiana kept smiling, accepting her fate, unnerving the man who would take her from this world.
She waited for the pain, hoping it was short-lived.
Instead, he pulled the gun from her face and began firing over her head.
133
Daniel pressed his back against a Town Car across the street from the train station. He thought the gang members would run when Alexiana shot at them, but that wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, she’d only killed one and wounded another. That still left three, and one of them was going to get his revenge.
He used the hood of the Town Car to prop his unsteady arms, took aim, and fired at the gang. One of them jumped as if he’d stepped on a hornet’s nest. He pirouetted away from the group, clutching his leg.
The rest turned to Daniel, guns in outstretched hands, pulling their triggers as fast as they could. He ducked behind the car, pulling himself into a ball by the rear tire. Bullets thunked into metal like fat raindrops on a tin roof.
When there was a pause, he popped his head up. Two of them were reloading as they marched to the car.
Dammit! Now what?
He was no crack shot. He’d have to make a run for it, hope their aim was as bad as his own. It was one thing to take a shot at an immobile, defenseless woman. It was another to take out a moving target.
Sprinting from the car before they could reload, he headed north. The last thing he wanted to do was have them follow him to the restaurant. There was another shot and he ducked, almost losing his stride.
The gang member who had been standing over Alexiana crumpled to the ground, hands on his crotch. She’d shot him right in the balls.
“Yo, fuck this shit!” one of them shouted, and soon they were all rushing for their bikes, pedaling away in the direction of the new waterfront apartments. Daniel watched them go, his heart thudding.
Alexiana! Buck!
He ran to them, dropping to the ground by Alexiana.
“Are you hurt?” he said. Her face and upper torso were covered in blood.
She looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. She must be in shock. “Let me check to see if you’ve been shot. We’ve been so worried about you.”
Alexiana waved him off, crawling on her hands and knees to Buck. The big man was trying to get up, groaning and coughing.
“Buck, maybe you should stay down,” Daniel said. “You might have internal injuries.”
His neighbor gave a wet cough, spitting where he couldn’t see. “If I do, I’m fucked. I ever tell you you’ve got perfect timing?”
“I don’t know how perfect. Alexiana might have been shot and I think she’s in shock.”
She melted into Buck’s arms, her back heaving with strange-sounding sobs.
“It’s not shock, Dan. She’s deaf.”
134
Max was the first to spot his father, Buck, and Alexiana limping toward the restaurant.
“Gabby, where are those seagulls?”
She ran to the other side of the dining room. “They’re still by the barge.”
“Ma, look,” he said, jabbing a finger at the glass.
“Oh, thank God,” she said, collapsing into her seat.
Then he saw the Nine Judges, riding their bikes like the devil was on their asses. His mother saw them, too.
“Mom, don’t lose them,” he said, heading for the stairs.
She yelled at him. “Do not leave this restaurant! You stay here, Max, until your father comes back. He’s almost here.”
Gabby turned to him with wet eyes. “The seagulls saw them.”
Max pleaded, “Ma, I have to help them get inside.” His hand folded around his bat.
It looked like Buck was hurt bad. His father and Alexiana carried him between them. If those seagulls started diving, they wouldn’t be able to ward them off and get inside the restaurant. After eating several cans of fruit and drinking his weight in bottled water, he had energy to burn. He could help them. Why couldn’t she understand that?
She spoke without looking at him, her eyes glued to the gang members. “I told you to stay here, and that’s final.”
He hopped from foot to foot, looking to Gabby, who studied the motions of the seagulls. Peering at them, he couldn’t believe their size. Those things must have been eating like kings. They were huge!
There was no sense asking. He ran for the stairs, ignoring his mother’s angry shouts.
His sneakers clomping on the boardwalk, he immediately spotted his father and neighbors. They were just by the roundabout, going slow. The first seagull cawed, swooping over their heads. Alexiana pulled out her gun, aiming at the sky.
“Dad!”
His father looked at him, alarmed. “Max, get back in the restaurant.”
“It’s the seagulls. They’re coming.”
“Get inside!”
A seagull that looked like a medium-sized dog with wings slammed into the back of Buck’s head. He lost his balance, taking his father and Alexiana down with him. A trio of gulls, sensing easy prey, descended.
Max dashed to them, the bat cocked over his shoulder. He swung, connecting with one of the seagulls while the other two pecked at his father. He caught each of them in their sides, their bodies spinning end over end across the pavement like feathered hockey pucks.
“Come on,” Max said, offering a hand to his father. He helped him to his feet, preparing for more.
“All right,” his father said. “We’ll stay close together.”
It was only forty or so yards to the safety of the restaurant. The rest of the gulls came for them. Alexiana shot blindly, hitting nothing but air.
As they stumbled to the restaurant’s entrance, Max slashed back and forth with the bat, taking the gulls out as fast as he could. Some managed to get through, driving their sharp beaks into them.
It was madness. The gulls kept coming, more determined than ever. So many had latched on to them, it was as if they were wearing living coats of crazed sea birds.
Making it to the boardwalk and under the overhang of the restaurant kept more from finding them easily. They swatted and punched, trying to shake off the seagulls.
As they peeled off, Max made valiant parting swings, hoping to make them think twice before they came back for more. The last of them departed from Alexiana’s hair as they slammed into the stairwell door.
“I’m going to start calling you Bat Man,” Buck said, grimacing. “We need to get you a secret identity and a cool car.”
They took the stairs slowly, collapsing onto the padded love seats in the waiting area.
135
&n
bsp; Elizabeth rushed to them the moment they entered the restaurant. The Nine Judges had slipped out of sight, but she knew where they’d gone. She flashed Max an angry look that didn’t faze him in the least. Daniel, Buck, and Alexiana were bloody messes.
“Gabby, get me as many bottles of water as you can carry.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Gabby said, scampering to the bar.
She wrapped her arms around her husband. “You’re hurt. What happened?”
He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. “A lot. Buck and Alexiana were being beaten up by the Nine Judges. She took most of them out.”
Elizabeth touched Alexiana’s arm. She looked like Carrie at the prom. She opened her eyes and smiled. “I am so glad we found you. I was afraid—”
“She can’t hear you,” Buck said, wheezing. “She lost her hearing when I set off those cars. What she didn’t lose was her courage.” He draped his arm over her, wincing, nuzzling her hair.
Gabby deposited five bottles of water on the floor.
“We have to clean you up, find out where you’re all hurt,” Elizabeth said.
The pebbled glass in Daniel’s belly pockmarked him with surface wounds. The seagulls only managed to add more scratches on top of the lacerations that already crisscrossed their flesh like tribal tattoos. She breathed a heavy sigh when she realized the blood on Alexiana was not her own. While she worked on them, Gabby bringing her a fresh supply of towels to sop up the blood, Buck told them everything that had happened since they’d been separated. In turn, she broke the news about Rey, tears running of their own accord down her face.
“I’m so sorry, Liz,” Buck said. Every move he made seemed like pure agony. She was pretty sure he had some cracked ribs, if not something worse. He’d taken one hell of a beating and he wasn’t a young man. “Rey was a great kid.”
“Thank you,” she said, concentrating on removing the blood from Alexiana’s arms. “I saw where the gang went.”
Daniel sat straighter in the love seat. “You did? Where?”