by Ariel Bonin
"My dad would've had my behind if I did!"
They all laughed.
"I don't remember much about that school because I was only there for about a year and a half, but I do remember that I had a huge crush on Mr. Scott and you two were the cutest couple I'd ever seen." Lindsey's smile waned and became uncomfortable. Hannah must have noticed his absence just then, because she said, "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
"It's okay," Lindsey reassured the girl with a weak smile. Andrew swept a consoling hand over her back and felt her relax under his touch.
"So, how did you find us up here?" Nicholas asked.
"We were stayin' at the golf resort down the road," Bill said. "Saw you drive by in the truck—thought we should see if any of our brothers were inside. For once, there actually was…" His statement held some kind of meaning, but it couldn't have been good, so no one pushed them for details.
"And what brings you to this part of Florida?" Andrew asked now, trying his best to hide any suspicion he was feeling. "Quite a ways from Fort Benning."
"I'm going to venture a guess that we are here for the same thing," Bill replied.
"New Canaan?" said Nicholas.
"You got it. I have a SATCOM radio in the truck that is directly linked to General David Kirkman of the United States Army—he's the one who got everything set up down there."
"Can we talk to him?" Andrew asked almost desperately.
"Sure thing," Bill began, "but we should probably get back to the resort. I think we've overstayed our welcome."
Andrew had been too enthralled by the man's words about New Canaan to realize that the dead had found their way down a nearby metal staircase and were slowly crossing the parking lot.
"Lead the way," Nicholas said to Bill as Ana and Charlie cleared a path to the vehicles.
Chapter 19
The golf resort was quite a sight, even in its post-apocalyptic state. Formally surrounded by rolling greens, it now sat within overgrown, rolling fields. The main building perfectly captured a Southern essence with its white, two-story columns, a looped drive lined with palm trees and a tattered American flag hanging from the pole out front. Charlie stopped his motorcycle behind Bill's pickup in the loop and the others parked behind him.
"This place is amazing," Caren said to Lindsey as they met up with Robert and Andrew. "It hardly looks damaged."
"There are even a few spare vehicles. Maybe we can score a new ride and all fit inside it," Robert suggested with a smirk. He pointed to a black, newer-model Explorer—a gas guzzler—but big enough for the two men to join their ladies for the rest of the trip instead of roughing it in the back of Charlie's truck for another two hundred miles.
"Sounds good, Robert. We'll check it out in the morning," Andrew replied. Zoey was holding her brother, but Andrew reached over to take the infant and propped him on his hip as they approached Bill. "How long have you guys been staying here?" His eyes swept over the front of the impressive resort, happy to see that not a single window was broken.
"Just since last night," Bill said. "We got in late, checked for the undead—only found five—and then slept half the day away. We were going to stay another night anyway, just to catch up on some much-needed rest. It's a good thing we did or else we would'a missed you guys." Bill urged them inside with a wave. "Come on in and we'll get you settled."
Hannah hung back to walk next to Lindsey, her young face shining. With sleek strawberry blonde hair and emerald eyes, Andrew assumed she was the epitome of her mother, though, Bill's aged appearance gave nothing away of his younger self. The way she was looking at Lindsey reminded Andrew of a puppy dog following its master. He had a feeling that Lindsey had been one of the "cool" teachers; the type of adult kids considered a friend but still respected. The thought of her being one of those people made him smile—he definitely saw her that way, too.
"Hey, Mrs. Scott," Hannah began.
Andrew cringed. He felt like he'd reverted back to his immature feelings from the beginning of their relationship when he had been jealous of Lindsey's deceased husband. It was ridiculous for him to find displeasure in what Hannah called her—after all, it was her name—but nonetheless, he did. He suddenly realized that this was the first time he'd thought of marrying Lindsey. He didn't want her to be Mrs. Scott anymore—he wanted her to be Mrs. Flynn. The idea of it was exciting, and yet, terrifying. Was he ready to make that kind of commitment again, especially in this horrific new world? And what about her—had she sworn off marriage? Would she be ready to take that leap of faith one more time?
The blonde glanced at Andrew, almost as if she could read his mind, and gave Hannah a pleasant smile. "Please, call me Lindsey."
"Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget that even teachers have first names." The young woman laughed. "It is so nice to have another girl around. It's…it's been a while." Hannah's expression fell but swiftly recovered. "Especially someone I know. We haven't seen many friendly faces."
Lindsey frowned and Andrew knew she was thinking of her own unfriendly exchanges. "It is nice. We haven't had very good luck either…"
Hannah studied her former teacher's face, no doubt spotting the purple and yellow bruises. "I can see that… I'm sorry."
Lindsey shrugged. "We got it all wrong. It's not the dead we need to fear—it's the living."
With a sigh, Hannah nodded in complete understanding.
_____
Bill gave the weary group of survivors a brief tour and then let them find their way to the rooms of their choosing. Andrew got the older man's attention and asked, "Is there any chance we could make that radio call tonight? I feel like I'd rest easier with some kind of confirmation. I'm getting a little tired of taking people on blind faith."
The lieutenant colonel was clearly eager to get his own rest, but saw the desperation in Andrew's eyes. "I'll get the radio out of the truck and meet you in the bar in a few minutes."
"Okay, thank you," Andrew said, his voice rich with appreciation. He resumed his search for an empty room and wound up bumping into Charlie.
"You'll want this room…trust me," was all the man said as he walked through an adjacent doorway.
Carrying Jacob, Andrew entered the room Charlie had just exited. Pristine white walls and gold fixtures surrounded them, opening up to an enormous sitting area with a dusty flat-screen television. A neat kitchenette branched off and housed a minibar that would have cost a pretty penny in his previous life. While searching for the beds, he quickly knew why Charlie had shown him this room. The tan cloth couch was large enough to house a pull-out bed—the perfect size for a teenage girl—which left a set of French double-doors opposite the kitchen, leading to a master bedroom.
Before Andrew could check it out, Lindsey and Zoey wandered in behind him.
"This room is sweet!" Zoey exclaimed as she tossed her bag onto the plush couch.
Lindsey procured the babbling boy from Andrew's arms, smiling at Zoey's excitement. "Yeah. Good choice, boss."
"Will you guys be okay here for a little bit? I'm meeting Bill to make the radio call to New Canaan."
Lindsey's face lit up at his statement. "Absolutely. I'll see if I can get Jacob to fall asleep. Promise you'll give me all the details when you get back?"
"I promise," he said with a smile.
While his daughter was exploring the kitchen cabinets, he leaned in to brush his mouth over Lindsey's, deepening the kiss when he felt a surge of warmth in his low belly. She pulled away unexpectedly and he saw a promise of what was to come in her hooded gaze.
"I won't be gone long," he added.
"I sure hope not," she whispered. Her fingertips lightly scratched his beard and then moved down to slip under the collar of his shirt. While balancing Jacob, she touched her lips to the curve of his ear. "This dress won't come off by itself."
Andrew chuckled softly to ward off the raging waves of desire consuming him and slid her an impassioned glance when she stepped back. With one last s
uggestive grin, she turned around and disappeared into the kitchen.
_____
The bar was one of many, but since it was the closest to their rooms, Andrew knew it was the place to meet Bill. Almost the entire room was dark cherry mahogany, with a mirror lining the back wall where a line of leather stools met a long counter. Peanut shells were scattered about, along with empty beer bottles and broken glass.
Someone evidently had a good time.
Andrew found Bill at the counter, two glasses and a bottle of brandy at the ready. He was fiddling with the radio but stopped when he saw Andrew approaching. He opened the brandy and poured a small amount in each glass.
"I'd like to wait until after," Andrew said as he occupied the stool next to Bill.
"You got it," the older man answered. He picked up the radio once again, seemed to make some kind of connection, and said, "November Charlie, come in. This is Lima Charlie Foxtrot. November Charlie, do you read me? Over."
Empty static filled the quiet room and Andrew could feel himself holding his breath until a male voice responded, "Lima Charlie Foxtrot, this is November Charlie, we read you loud and clear. Over."
Bill smiled and blew out a breath. Andrew thought the man was probably just as relieved as he was. Lt. Colonel French had a lot at stake—he wouldn't want to be made out as a liar due to faulty equipment. As a former military man, Andrew knew that radios could be a huge pain in the ass and completely unreliable.
"Roger. We're two days out, looking for a rendezvous. Over."
"Roger that. Rendezvous at Victor Bravo. Follow to the end and fire the missile. We'll come runnin'. Over," the voice stated.
"Affirmative, WILCO. Any problems on the Western front? Over."
"Negative—smooth sailin'. See you in two days. November Charlie out."
Bill turned off the radio and stared at Andrew. "I know it's not much…"
"But it's enough," Andrew said. "Though, I'm not entirely sure what you guys were talking about half the time. It seems like some of the lingo changed when the world did."
Bill chuckled from deep in his chest. "I'm sure you could tell when I asked them about a meeting place and they said Victor Bravo. Since we're goin' to an island, I have to assume that the Bravo is a beach. If we look directly south of Fort Myers on the map, I'm sure we'll be able to find it."
"What about the missile?"
"Flare gun."
"And the Western front?"
"That one is pretty self-explanatory—have they had any problems lately and do they expect any in the near future?"
"What kind of problems are we talking about?" Andrew really wanted his drink but would wait until he had all the answers to his questions.
"Well, anything—weather, turners, people…"
"So we're good to meet them in two days?" he asked, experiencing a flutter of excitement and anticipation in his stomach. This is it…the home stretch.
"Yes, sir. Let's get this done." Bill picked up his glass and Andrew did the same. "To our children and a better future. May it be only two days away."
The two men clinked glasses and swallowed the shot of brandy. Andrew felt the smooth burn in his throat and experienced a light-headed rush from lack of a decent meal.
"Well, I'm beat. See ya in the mornin'," Bill said as he pushed away his empty glass and stood up.
Andrew offered a hand to him and as he shook it said, "Thank you for doing that… I really appreciate it."
Bill gave him a friendly nod and sauntered out of the bar. Remembering the beautiful woman waiting for him back in their suite, Andrew poured himself one more drink and then leaped up from the stool.
_____
Lindsey had just laid down Jacob when she heard Andrew come into the suite. He and Zoey talked for a moment and then said good night. The French doors opened and she turned to face him. From across the room, Andrew met her adoring gaze and shut the doors behind him.
"There's a basin of water in the bathroom if you'd like to clean up," she said.
He kept his eyes on her and she could already tell she was in for it tonight; the raw hunger in his gaze took her breath away. Finally, he glanced at his filthy hands and cracked a grin. "Guess I probably should. Don't go anywhere." His voice sounded playful but held just enough of an edge for her to abide by him.
When he returned a few minutes later, the faint smell of citrus wafted from his warm skin. Like a true male, the first thing he did was slide his hand up her bare thigh and under the ragged fabric of her dress. The tips of his fingers found the cleft between her legs and brushed over the moisture that had collected there. While staring into her dark eyes, he brought his middle and pointer finger to his mouth and savored her essence on his tongue.
"You taste so good."
Lindsey gasped quietly at Andrew's outrageous statement. One of his hands snaked around her neck, grasping and bringing her lips to his. She tasted hard alcohol on his breath and somehow that turned her on even more. She liked it when Andrew lost his cool veneer and showed her what kind of lover he could really be.
As they continued to kiss with reckless abandon, Lindsey undid the belt around her waist. They parted only for a moment as she crisscrossed her arms over her front and peeled off the shabby dress. Andrew was quick with removing her bra, tossing it to the side without a second thought. He scooped her up by her backside and tossed her onto the bed. As he came over her, she at least wanted to get him out of his t-shirt. Her hands fumbled with the cotton material and pulled it over his head. Immediately he brought his head down, closing his hot mouth over one of her pink nipples. Lindsey's back arched off the bed as she let out a breathy moan. His tongue stroked the sensitive nub, sucking and gently nibbling it to a hard peak. He did the same on the other side and she thought she would lose her mind.
"Make love to me…Andy, please," she begged. He wrestled out of the clothing on his bottom half and was about to push into her when she whispered, "Wait! Andrew…"
"Shit!" he spat, moving away from her to find his bag on the floor. Luckily, it didn't take him long to find a condom. After he slipped it on, he positioned himself once more and, using his mouth to swallow her cries, slid home.
_____
Lindsey awoke in darkness, the late moonlight streaming through a crack in the heavy curtains. Andrew's naked body warmed her back, one of his arms thrown over her waist. She rubbed a hand over his arm as she attempted to get over the dream she'd just had. It was definitely one of the weirdest and she couldn't come up with any deeper explanation for it. Their current group had been trapped inside some kind of jail cell—whatever that was supposed to mean—but Eric and Veronica were there too. Most of her dream had consisted of them trying to find a way out, but their plans were nixed when their captors came for Andrew, taking him away to some unknown place. She woke before he returned.
Treasuring Andrew's closeness in the cozy bed, Lindsey snuggled against him and heaved out her tension on a heavy sigh. She was fully awake now, which was frustrating since they were planning to leave early in the morning. She had a warm bed, secure surroundings and Andrew—so why was she unable to sleep?
Giving up, she slipped out of Andrew's embrace, redressed and tip-toed out of the suite. The hallway was dark, but something illuminated the end. She padded down the long, carpeted corridor and found herself in the lobby. Man-made light, most likely a lantern, stretched across the floor from a nearby doorway. She peeked into the room to discover the bar and lounge. This was most likely where Andrew had met Bill. After their fierce lovemaking, he'd told her all about the radio call. It still left some things up in the air, but gave her more confidence in the existence of their final destination.
Hank perked up from where he sat at the bar, his M16 on top of the smooth surface. He nursed a bottle of Sam Adams and gave her a tilt of his head to come in. Lindsey rounded the bar and stood across from him as she began to search for the right drink to put her to sleep.
"Lookin' for a night cap?" he asked in a deep v
oice.
"Yeah, I thought the cushy accommodations would be enough, but I was wrong." She plucked a wine glass from the overhead caddy and reached for a bottle of Merlot. Without proper temperature control, it would probably taste disgusting, but she wouldn't be picky at this point.
As she poured the alcohol into her glass, Hank said, "I could go for somethin' stronger, but I'm on watch tonight."
Lindsey took a sip and swished the liquid around in her mouth. Not too bad. "Anyone else?"
Hank nodded. "Robert and Caren are on the south side. Need to keep our butts covered—can't goof off too much."
Lindsey smiled and drank more of her wine. "We really appreciate what you guys are doing for us. We need all the help we can get. At this point the only way we're going to get there is together."
"I hear you," the man said. "It's been a long road…"
"That it has." She paused. "Bill said you two escaped Fort Benning to find your families. What happened to them…if you don't mind me asking?"
Hank sighed and took a long draw off his beer. He stared at the lantern's reflection on the dusty bar top and said quietly, "Bill found his ex-wife and stepson within the first few days. They were with us up until a couple of months ago. Massive group of turners came through… We barely made it out."
"We call that a horde," Lindsey offered.
"A 'horde'—sounds about right." Hank took a moment to finish off his beer and Lindsey knew what was coming next. "We found my fiancé and two kids within twenty-four hours of the outbreak…but we were too late," he said thickly.
"I'm so sorry," Lindsey whispered, her sympathetic gaze wandering over the crestfallen man.
He shrugged. "I wanted to give up. They were my whole world. But Bill urged me to keep going, to fight. I held onto a lot of anger—the fighting part wasn't so difficult. It still hurts to think about them, but I'll see them again soon enough. Guess I should make the most of what time I have left on this Godforsaken earth."