“That’ll work.” Jack went to the cage directly opposite hers, about five feet away, and put his hand on the latch. “On three.”
A shot rang out.
“Oh, shit!” Megan rotated the latch and dashed for the next cage.
Sensing freedom, the zombies stumbled out of their pens.
“Let’s go!” Megan screamed, racing for the door.
Another shot rang out, and the bullet hit something nearby. Blind to whatever was outside but knowing full well it was less of a threat than what was behind her, Megan burst through the door. She looked around, searching for Roman, and spotted him huddling behind a pile of bricks and chunks of concrete. He motioned for her to get down just as a bullet kicked up a puff of dirt at her feet.
Jack joined her. “We’ve got to go!”
“I know! I know!” Megan said, glancing over her shoulder. The zombies were almost upon them.
She set off at a sprint toward the main house. Jack followed close behind her. Another series of rapid gunshots filled the air, but they made it to cover without being hit. Huddling under a balcony overhang, Megan hoped she was out of range. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint where the shooter was while she was running.
“Roman’s still out there,” Jack said between gasps.
“I know. Are you hit?”
Jack shook his head. “No.” He pointed at the approaching zombies. “We don’t have much time, though.”
Megan watched in horror as the quartet of zombies closed on their position. Their plan, so carefully constructed, was quickly falling apart. “This isn’t—”
A radio crackled from just around the nearest corner. She clamped her mouth shut
“That’s right. They’re all out,” the guard whispered.
Megan recognized the speaker. Nick. She couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but the undercurrent of panic in Nick’s voice was unmistakable.
“Stay here,” she whispered to Jack. “I’ll be right back.”
She started edging toward the corner of the building. Nick was still mumbling into his radio. Megan raised the piece of steel bed frame she had used to open the door over her head.
Then she stepped around the corner.
Nick stared at her in shock, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide in disbelief. Before he could react, Megan brought the metal down on his head in a vicious blow. Fire erupted from the barrel of his rifle, and Megan felt a bullet whiz past her head.
Nick crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled around his head, glistening black in the light of the moon. She quickly liberated his assault rifle from his slack grip and took the semi-automatic pistol strapped to his belt. She heard shuffling footsteps and looked up. Drawn by the commotion, the zombie pack was almost upon her. She scurried out of the way, offering up her fresh kill to the monsters. They fell on Nick’s body like a pack of wolves as she slipped around the corner.
She gave the pistol to Jack and checked the action on the rifle, ensuring the safety was off and the gun was ready to fire. Nick’s body would keep the zombies busy for a few minutes, she hoped.
The sky filled with chalky white lightning. Thunder rumbled, long and low, vibrating the teeth in the back of Megan’s mouth. Fat, heavy raindrops splattered in the dirt, turning it to mud. The wind gusted. Megan caught the cloying scent of ozone and jungle vegetation mixed with the dusky stench of the undead.
A flash of movement caught her attention and she turned, bringing Nick’s soldier’s assault rifle to her shoulder. She slipped her finger into the trigger guard.
“Wait!” Roman called. “It’s me! Don’t shoot!”
Megan exhaled and removed her finger from the trigger. “I almost—”
“Give me that!” Roman said, reaching for the rifle.
Megan resisted. “But—”
Roman tore the rifle from her hands with frightening ease. “Stay here,” he ordered, turning for the door.
Megan grabbed his arm. “No! You can’t! We’re coming with you!”
Roman spun around, knocking her hand loose. He gave her a withering glare. “No! This is my fight. I have to finish this.”
“Nick’s dead,” Megan said.
Roman blinked. Then he yanked the door open and plunged into the building.
Megan started to follow him, but Jack held her in place. “Let him do this.”
“But—”
The muffled clatter of automatic fire filled the night, an eternal, sustained burst that seemed too close and, at the same time, too far away to be real. A single gunshot answered, followed immediately by another rattling burst of full automatic fire.
Then silence.
While Megan waited, Jack alternated between training the pistol on the door and sweeping behind them, in case the zombies finished their meal. The seconds crawled by at glacial speed.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but what Megan was sure were only seconds, the door creaked open.
Roman emerged. “It’s done.” He dropped the rifle and slumped to the ground, spent. “Purdue is dead.”
Thirty-eight
Isla Perpetua
Megan opened the door of Purdue’s Hummer and climbed from her seat to the running board. She leaned back inside the truck. “You’re not coming?”
Roman shook his head. His eyes never met hers. “I’ve got some things to do first.”
Thunder rumbled, getting closer. A few drops of rain splattered on the windshield. Megan waited for Roman to elaborate, but nothing was forthcoming. She jumped down, landing at Jack’s side.
“What’s happening?” Jack asked. “Why isn’t he coming inside?”
Megan shrugged. “Says he has things to do.” Then she reached up and swatted the door twice.
The engine revved, and Roman tore off into the night. Lightning painted the sky white, and thunder boomed directly overhead.
“Let’s go!” Megan yelled, taking Jack’s hand and pulling him toward the front door of the bunk house. They barely made it inside before the sky burst open in a torrential downpour. Ferocious bolts of lightning burned phosphorous-white tracks through the night sky. Thunder roared and rumbled like brawling gods, shaking the building to its foundation. They retreated to the safety of the center of the room and collapsed on an unoccupied cot. Neither spoke as they clung to each other and drifted off to fitful sleep.
Megan awoke to Jack shaking her shoulder.
“We’ve got to get up,” he whispered. “Roman’s here.”
With a pained groan, she opened her eyes. Jack’s face loomed over hers. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and a thick shadow of stubble coated his chin and jaw. His hair was pushed to one side of his head, a stiff wave of accumulated dirt and gore from Purdue’s corpse.
She rubbed her eyes. “Already? I just fell asleep.”
Jack smiled and gestured around the room, which was mostly empty. Sunlight streamed in from a window high on the southern wall.
Megan propped herself up on her elbows. “What happened to the storm?”
“It passed a couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to wake you.”
She looked over at the front door. “What’s he want?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
With a bone-weary sigh, Megan rolled from the cot and struggled to her feet. Her mouth tasted like ash. Her joints screamed in protest. “Okay. Give me a minute.”
“Take your time. I’ll tell him you’re coming.” He picked up a sealed bottle of water from the next cot and handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
Jack turned and began making his way to the door.
As she watched him walk away, Megan wondered, What now?
Megan caught up with Jack and Roman a few minutes later under the shade of the dead palm tree at the corner of the building. “Roman,” she said, giving the man a wary nod. After the events of the previous evening, she wasn’t sure how to act around him.
Roman returned her greeting with a tight grimace. “Megan.” As if sensing her unease,
he gestured at a nearby group of chairs arranged around a dilapidated wooden picnic table. “Do you mind if we sit?” He put his hand to his lower back. “I think I pulled something last night.”
“Sure,” Megan said. “Of course.”
Once they were all seated, Roman produced a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it with a dull-gold Zippo. He took several leisurely pulls before speaking. “How’re you guys holding up this morning? Are you still okay with what happened last night?”
“We’re good,” Megan said. “We did what we had to do.” The guilt she had expected to feel over murdering Purdue had yet to materialize.
“I agree,” Jack added.
Roman nodded and flicked his spent cigarette butt away. “Good. While killing Purdue solved one problem, it’s created an entirely new issue we have to deal with, and we don’t have much time.”
“What’s that?” Megan asked, apprehension bubbling in her gut. After the events of the previous evening, she couldn’t stomach the thought of another fight. Not yet.
Roman scratched his neck. “Once word gets out about Purdue, people are going to start talking. They’re going to want revenge. Anyone even remotely connected to him will be a target.”
“Including you,” Megan said gravely.
Roman frowned and nodded. “Inevitably, someone will remember I came here with him. Even though Purdue and I hadn’t spoken in almost a year, all it takes is one fool shooting off his mouth to start the rumors flying. But that’s not what I’m worried about. Not at the moment, at least. I can handle myself. The bigger problem is the other men who did things for him. You may not want to acknowledge it, but most of them are decent men who were simply doing what they had to do to stay alive. They don’t deserve to die.”
“Bullshit!” Jack slammed his fist on the table. “We should kill the whole lot of them. Make an example.”
Purdue held up his hands. “No, we can’t do that. Not after what’s happened here. We need to take steps to show the people here they’re better off without Purdue, as hard as it is to believe there would be any question.”
“He’s got a point,” Megan said, turning to Jack. “We’ll only get one shot at putting this place back together.”
Roman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His eyes danced between Megan and Jack, and a faint smile played at the edge of his mouth.
“What?” Jack asked. “What are you thinking?”
“That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you guys about—putting things back together.”
Megan shared a confused glance with Jack. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like one of you—or both of you if you want—to consider taking Purdue’s place.”
Megan sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, and she heard Jack gasp beside her.
“Wait. Hear me out,” Roman said. “I’m not asking for a long-term commitment. Hell, we can even hold elections once things settle down, if you think that’ll help. In the meantime, though, we need a stable hand at the helm, someone who can start rebuilding and undo all of the bad that came before.”
“I’m not sure,” Jack said, shaking his head. “That’s asking an awful lot. Why us? Why not you? You know everyone here.”
Roman laughed. “I wouldn’t last a week. Not after losing Sienna. No, all I want to do now is curl up and die. I don’t have it in me to do this job. But I think you do.”
Megan’s mind was already running with the possibilities. She understood the motivation behind Roman’s offer, and she was fully aware of the risks to both her and Jack. With Roman acting as de facto kingmaker, they would be putting their lives entirely in his hands. If his connection to Purdue got out, they would be tainted by association. But knowing the risk, she couldn’t help but marvel at the potential. That island was her best chance to make something good of her life, to atone for losing the entire population of Scorpion Canyon.
“We’ll do it,” she blurted.
Jack clenched her elbow. “Wait. What? Hold on! We should talk about—”
Megan put her hand on top of his. “No, Jack. Can’t you see? This is the chance we’ve been waiting for. These people are hungry for someone to lead them out of the darkness, to restore some sense of civility to their world. We can do this. I know we can. I know I can.”
The consternation in Jack’s expression faded. “Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. “If you’re sure…”
A manic energy bubbled up inside Megan, banishing all of her fatigue. “Oh, I am. You have no idea! I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.” She turned to Roman. “We’re in.”
Roman let out a palpable sigh of relief, and Megan knew she had nothing more to fear from him.
“In that case,” Roman said. “Here’s what we need to do…”
Thirty-nine
Gulf Star Oil Platform
A Few Days Later
Chris bowed his head and gently rested his hand on the shroud covering Hines’s body. A pair of seagulls circled overhead, their dusky shadows flickering like shooting stars across the brilliant white fabric. A hard lump formed in his throat, and for a moment, he feared he would lose himself in front of the assembled crowd. The feeling passed, and reluctantly, he stepped back and gave a nod to Cain.
A sharp metallic clang shattered the silence of the afternoon, and the steel platform upon which Hines’s body rested tilted slowly toward the sea. With a soft whoosh, the corpse slipped free, tumbling into the embrace of the gulf and vanishing beneath the waves, carried into the depths by lengths of heavy scrap drilling pipe strapped to the legs.
Chris closed his eyes and let out a whole-body sigh. When he opened them, he saw the other inhabitants of the Gulf Star watching him with wary, mournful expressions. With Hines gone, the task of shepherding the decimated remains of their settlement into an uncertain future became his burden. Forty-five percent of the population had died before Dr. Cain’s improvised stem-cell transplant cure had gained traction. Cain had predicted that many of the survivors would experience drastically shortened lifespans. For the small cluster who had experienced a delayed onset of the sickness, Chris included, survivor’s guilt ruled the day.
While the Gulf Star had once had a fighting chance, Chris feared they had become too weak to survive the next tragedy, whether it was another sickness or—God forbid—an unchecked zombie infection or something they hadn’t yet considered. Anything could wipe the last stragglers from the face of the earth in the blink of an eye. For the first time in days, he thought of Megan and Jack. He wondered where they were and if they were even still alive. He wanted to believe in their survival, but doubt gnawed at him. Too much time had passed since their departure. Too much had gone wrong with the world.
Chris sought Luke’s face in the crowd. The teen stood behind Tinsley, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Tinsley radiated health, Chris noted with satisfaction, a far cry from how she had looked just two days earlier. She was one of the lucky ones. The health of the baby she carried was still in question. Early signs pointed to no permanent damage, but they wouldn’t know for sure until the new shore team Chris had assembled headed into Galveston to gather some medical equipment Dr. Cain had requested.
Chris wouldn’t rest easy until he heard the screech of a newborn echoing through the halls of the Gulf Star. Even then, he would always worry.
The one bright spot in all of the death and despair was Ben. Against all odds, Chris’s old friend had never succumbed to the infection. Instead, he had spent his time disposing of the bodies on the Dixie Sunrise and shutting down the station one level at a time. That morning, Cain had finally given him clearance to abandon his quarantine and return to the Gulf Star.
The burial platform clanged again as the doctor returned it to a horizontal position and locked it in place. Chris turned to watch as the next body was loaded onto the burial sled.
Forty
Isla Perpetua
A Few Weeks Later
The remnants of Purdue’s force
crumbled into oblivion. With Roman providing guidance, Megan called the occupants of the island together and addressed them, informing them of the end to the nightmare they had lived in for so long. Many refused to believe their tormentor was gone. Some even went so far as to challenge her authority, claiming she was working for Purdue. Those dissenters were swiftly silenced when Jack and Roman dragged Purdue’s rotting corpse into the light of day, soaked it with diesel, and set it alight on a hastily constructed funeral pyre.
Megan offered a choice to the men who had sworn loyalty to Purdue: Renounce their deeds or be banished from the island to fend for themselves on the undead-infested mainland. All but three of the former henchmen agreed to her terms and began the arduous process of reintegrating into the community. Jack deposited the objectors on the shores of the mainland with enough food for a week and some ammunition. Despite the near-certainty of those men’s deaths, Megan shed no tears over their plight.
Unfortunately, Roman’s warning about their physical dependence on the zombie flesh proved all too true. After refraining from eating the diseased meat for almost a week, Jack fell deathly ill and was only brought back to health when Roman fed him a leathery morsel from the one of the zombies. Although the idea of consuming the flesh of the creatures revolted her, Megan couldn’t ignore the necessity any longer.
Purdue, in his zeal to control every aspect of life on the island, had destroyed the Mexican Army radio room, smashing the equipment to unidentifiable fragments. But in his manic state, he had neglected to destroy the spares kept on a shelf in one of the adjoining rooms. A former radio engineer who had arrived on a boat from Tampa emerged from the shell-shocked population and, after three days, managed to resuscitate the system. Once the radio was online, they established a tenuous satellite link with the Gulf Star. Megan reeled when she heard that so many had perished, feeling each death as if a part of her had died all over again. Her only solace was the news of Tinsley’s impending childbirth. Jack’s revelation that he had known of the teen’s condition all along earned him a night alone in a hammock on the porch. Soon, if all went according to plan, a flotilla would depart the Gulf Star for the last time, heading south to Isla Perpetua.
Elements of the Undead (Book 4): Water Page 16