“I'll give you a ride--right after dinner,” Carter informed her with a pleased smile.
“I'd like to take a rain check, Carter,” she said gently with mild exhaustion in her tone. “It's been a long day, and I just want to get home to Hunter.”
“Desmond is with him. He's fine,” he informed her. “You have to eat, and I've already given you about six rain checks. Come on--a quick bite.”
Jetta reluctantly nodded and walked with him toward the lounge. Bishop approached the front desk and immediately received a glare from Elise.
“Something on your mind, Ms. Raymond?” Bishop asked while raising a brow in question.
“You're in charge of security, right?”
“I'm in charge of the guy who's in charge of security, yes,” Bishop remarked.
“Well, no one has seen Phil since he left the tavern an hour before his shift,” Elise remarked. “Since you're in charge of him, perhaps you'd like to see if he's sleeping off his bender somewhere on the grounds.”
“Yeah,” Bishop reluctantly replied with a sigh. “I'll look for Phil.”
†
Jetta sat with Carter in the lounge at the back booth and picked at the food on her plate with little interest. She didn't want to be there. She just wanted to get home and make sure Hunter was okay. It had been a long, exhausting day, and she wanted it over. She wasn't in the mood for Carter or his cheap attempt at charming her.
“I know how worried you are about Hunter, Jetta,” Carter said with an almost sympathetic sounding tone.
She doubted he did. If he did, he wouldn't be forcing her to join him for dinner; he'd be giving her a ride home to be with Hunter. She made a conscious effort to remain polite, despite her growing irritation toward him.
“First he thinks I'm his wife, and now he's seeing zombies,” she reluctantly replied. “It's hard watching a man you respect and admire losing it like that.”
“Doc was telling us about the surgery.”
“Did he also mention it's close to a million dollars?” Jetta asked and snorted an uneasy laugh. “Even war heroes aren't above insurance limitations. A little respect for him just once from this town would be nice. All they see is some crazy, ex-military whack job. They have no idea who he is and how many lives he's saved over the years.”
Carter placed his hand on hers, immediately catching her attention and sparking her distrust. He caressed her hand. Somehow, it seemed he was up to something more than just being understanding and comforting.
“I'm a very wealthy man, Jetta,” he said gently and with considerable seriousness. “I could pay for his surgery. I know how much Hunter means to you.”
Jetta stared at him then his hand on hers. What should have come off as a kind gesture raised immediate suspicions. “Uh huh. And just what is it you expect in return?”
Her tone caught him off guard. Carter removed his hand from hers and offered a tiny smile. “I just want a chance. I'd like you to get to know me better. A couple of months, that's all. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out.”
“A man doesn't throw around a million dollars for just a chance, Carter,” she remarked firmly, calling him on his so-called generous offer.
“Okay, yes,” he replied while shifting in his chair and appeared tense by her curtness. “I'd want it to be a sexual relationship. It's just two months, Jetta. Two months and Hunter can live a normal life again.”
“I know you think you're doing a noble thing,” she began gently then her look suddenly hardened, “but I don't intend to whore myself out to you. Thanks for dinner.”
Jetta stood from the table and left the lounge. Tyler watched Jetta leave then stared at Carter with his mouth hanging open. Apparently, he'd heard enough of the conversation to find disbelief in the indecency of Carter's proposition. Carter caught Tyler's look, sneered at him, and pushed his plate across the table with disgust.
†
Hunter entered the study with a casual but determined gait. He had received his next mission, and his orders were clear. It was operation ‘clean sweep’, although he wasn't sure about going on such an important mission with this new guy. Desmond hurried into the study after him and appeared nearly paranoid while subconsciously running his fingers repeatedly through his hair. He looked behind him every few seconds almost as if the devil was chasing him. No, Hunter was confident that this wasn't the right man for the mission at hand. When he saw the admiral next, he'd have to talk with him about the quality of new recruits.
“We really need to go, Hunter. We don't have time to play around--”
“I'm not playing.” Hunter approached the gun cabinet with bars behind the glass and turned to look at Desmond. “First, we need to prepare.” As he studied Desmond, he suddenly appeared concerned while mentally questioning his abilities. “You do know how to fire a weapon, right?”
“I must have missed that semester at MIT,” Desmond muttered. “Do you have a key for that cabinet? Because I sort of think those bars are there because of you.”
“Of course I have a key.”
Hunter turned toward the gun cabinet and roughly kicked the back of it several times. The cabinet popped away from the wall to reveal a secret compartment filled with several assault rifles, handguns, stun guns, fancy little grenades, and an assortment of gruesome looking knives. It wasn't that the admiral was paranoid; he just believed in being prepared.
Desmond's mouth fell open as he stared at the weapons with horror. “Oh, this isn't going to end well,” he said softly.
He watched Hunter pick up one of the assault rifles and skillfully load and cock it. Desmond jumped to the frightening sound and stared at Hunter. Seeing him with such a large weapon was sobering if not frightening. Hunter tossed him the assault rifle. Desmond jumped with surprise, fumbled with the large weapon, and watched it fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Hunter stared at Desmond with surprise then shook his head, expressing his disapproval.
“You're lucky that didn't fire,” Hunter informed him. “That's how men lose toes--sometimes testicles.”
Desmond stared at Hunter with a look of alarm and wondered if that had actually ever happened.
Chapter Eighteen
The Winter Harbor High School football game was nearing the end of halftime with the away team up by ten points. Half the town attended the game and nearly filled the stands. There were more than nine hundred spectators at the game and over one hundred participants. The band played while the cheerleaders performed their rehearsed cheers for the crowd of mostly locals. As the clock ran out, the whistle blew to signal halftime. Both teams hurried from the field and headed toward their respective locker rooms. The home team marching band took the field and played a lively tune to lift the town's spirits.
A three-year-old girl wearing a dress with sunflowers on it walked with her mother while holding her hand. Her mother pointed to the field while smiling.
“We have to go over there--across the field,” her mother announced. “Keep an eye out for Daddy.”
The little girl appeared excited and bounced around. “Will I get to blow the whistle, Mommy?” she asked.
“We'll have to see, dear.”
†
The away team entered their locker room while shouting and cheering. They were enthusiastic for the game, which they were obviously winning. A man rifled through one of the lockers and caught the attention of one of the players.
“Who the hell is that in my locker?” the player demanded to know then turned angry.
The football player ran for the man inside his locker and roughly pulled him away. The male zombie turned, with blood running down his chin, and snarled at the football player. The partially eaten janitor could be seen stuffed in the blood-strewn locker. The zombie lunged for the football player and knocked him over the bench with a loud crash. The other players saw the attack and immediately tackled the zombie, unaware of the surrounding circumstances. There were several shouts and some screams from the pile-up. The coach ran
down the aisle while shouting at his team. He saw the dead janitor in the locker, appeared stunned, and uncertainly approached him. The coach stared at the mutilated janitor with his innards exposed and blood seeping down the locker and onto the floor. The janitor's eyes suddenly opened, startling the coach. He grabbed the coach and bit him on the face. The coach screamed while thrashing against the zombie janitor.
†
The marching band played on the field while the cheerleaders performed for the crowd. The crowd appeared ready for the second half with renewed hopes for another win. Zombie football players appeared from the away team locker room without their helmets and before the whistle. They ran toward the cheerleaders and the band on the field. When the band turned while playing, the zombie football players tackled half to the ground. Those that didn't fall hit the zombies with their instruments. Several zombie football players chased the screaming cheerleaders while they ran across the field. The crowd witnessed what appeared to be poor sportsmanship and became enraged.
“They're attacking our band!” one of the men from the bleachers shouted.
A group of local men from the bleachers charged the field to break up what they thought was a senseless fight. The zombie football players attacked the home cheerleaders and the approaching spectators on the field. It wasn't until the crowd witnessed blood and torn flesh, that panic spread throughout the bleachers. Men, women, and children thundered down the bleachers in mass panic while screaming. Several people tumbled down the bleachers and the remaining crowd trampled them. The zombie away team coach pounced on one of the fallen woman and tore into her face while she screamed and fought against him.
The three-year-old girl in the sunflower dress stood on the field and cried for her mother as zombie football players charged for her. She was suddenly swooped up by Winter Harbor's star running back, Tanner. Tanner tucked her under his arm and charged for the oncoming team of zombies while being pursued by several others behind him. She screamed as he yelled and plowed through the zombies.
†
Reverend Bloom was a heavyset man in his late fifties, who was neatly dressed in a black, clergy shirt and collar. He wore a homemade, silver nail crucifix necklace, which, in spite of its simplicity, was actually somewhat flashy. Rev. Bloom locked the church door while fumbling with his keys and briefcase as he headed for the sidewalk. Faint screams were heard coming from the distant high school football field. He listened a moment, grinned proudly, and shook his head.
“I guess that means we're winning,” he said with a pleased chuckle.
He walked down the cobblestone sidewalk and turned toward the rectory. Zombie Pam, in her bloodstained nightgown, stood on the sidewalk several feet in front of him. Bloom stopped when he saw her and immediately appeared concerned.
“Pam? What happened to you?”
Bloom hurried toward Pam then stopped when he saw her gruesome appearance up-close. Zombie Pam lunged for him. He cried out and shoved her away with amazing reflexes. She lost her balance then straightened and pursued him as he turned to run. He swung his briefcase at her and clocked her on the side of the head. She was thrown to the sidewalk and got up more slowly. Bloom ran from her before she could return to her feet. Dennis suddenly appeared from between two parked cars. Bloom cried out and, with great agility, darted past him. More zombies now wandered the streets. A male zombie lunged for Bloom and knocked him to the cobblestone sidewalk. Rev. Bloom screamed while attempting to keep the zombie's teeth away from his face. He clutched his silver crucifix necklace, cried out with horror, and stabbed the zombie in the eye with the pointed end. As the thick, bloody substance oozed from his eye, the zombie collapsed on top of him. Bloom gasped as he pushed the zombie off and sat up while clutching his bloody cross. Rev. Bloom blessed the motionless zombie, saw the others quickly approaching, and scrambled to his feet.
“Lord have mercy!”
†
The hotel's large maintenance building and security office was located beyond the pool and garden area and appeared almost hidden so as not to distract from the guest's lavish and costly vacation experience. Bishop entered the building and looked around. The main office area was cluttered and filled with tools, parts, and various supplies. Two desks were piled high with clutter. Bishop walked through the disastrous office while visually expressing his distaste. Phil was seen huddled over one of the desks behind the clutter and appeared to be eating his dinner. Bishop eyed the clutter, which mostly constituted garbage, and shook his head with disgust as he approached Phil behind the desk.
“Phil, Elise is on her broomstick again,” Bishop informed him as he approached. “You were supposed to walk the property an hour ago. Why do you hate me? You know how I feel about dealing with her.”
Bishop stopped near Phil behind the desk. Phil tore the flesh from a man's hairy, severed arm like a turkey leg while blood ran down his chin. He looked at Bishop with dead eyes and bared his bloodstained teeth while snarling. Bishop stared at him with the horror evident in his eyes. Zombie Phil returned to eating the arm. Bishop removed his gun and slowly backed away.
“Yeah, we'll talk later--”
Bishop quickly turned and nearly collided with a male zombie in a green maintenance uniform, who was missing his arm.
“Steve?” Bishop gasped with surprise.
The maintenance zombie snarled at Bishop and closed in. Bishop remained horrified and aimed his gun. The zombie lunged for him and grabbed his arm. The gun fired and fell from his hand. The bullet struck the maintenance zombie in the leg but didn't have any effect on him. Zombie Phil approached Bishop from behind. Bishop looked back at him, appeared alarmed, and kicked Phil in the abdomen, tossing him back several steps. He then spun and kicked the maintenance zombie in the groin, which also had no effect. The maintenance zombie grabbed Bishop's arm and attempted to bite it. Bishop grabbed the zombie's arm, twisted it behind his back, and shoved him across the room. The maintenance zombie crashed into a mountain of equipment and fell to the floor with the equipment crashing down upon him.
Zombie Phil was almost on top of Bishop now. Bishop was halfway to the floor, reaching for his gun, when another zombie appeared. Bishop stared with horror at the large, burly zombie approaching him.
“Oh, shit!”
Chapter Nineteen
Elise and Stacy stood behind the desk and watched Doc checking on Deputy Styles. Doc sat on the coffee table and patted Styles on the arm. The deputy still remained weak and pale, but he now managed a smile. Doc stood and approached Jetta, who paced the length of the lobby like a caged animal.
“I'm going to get my car,” he said to Jetta. “If you'll help me get Styles to my office, I'll give you a ride home.”
“I'd appreciate that.”
Doc headed for the driveway entrance doors. Rev. Bloom bolted into the lobby and nearly knocked over Doc. Bloom shut and locked the door then turned toward the others as he panted heavily. Everyone stared at him.
“We need to lock the place down!”
Elise walked out from behind the desk and approached Bloom with limited patience. Even a man of the cloth wasn't immune to her detest.
“Have you been drinking, Reverend?”
Rev. Bloom suddenly grabbed Elise by the shoulders, startling her, and shook her firmly. “Lock it down--now!”
A female zombie struck the doors and pawed at them with bloodstained fingers that were missing all fingernails. Everyone appeared alarmed and several screams echoed through the lobby. Jetta ran for the beachside doors and locked them.
“I'll get the kitchen,” Stacy called out. “There are doors in the lounge!”
Jetta ran down the corridor after Stacy. Elise just stood immobile and stared at the female zombie outside the door. Within minutes, Jetta and Stacy returned with Carter, Tyler, and Rafael in tow. Three zombies now attempted to get inside.
“What the hell are they?” Carter cried out.
Rafael looked at Carter with all seriousness. “They're zombies, du
de.”
“Zombies--?” Jetta gasped and suddenly had a chilling realization then appeared horrified. “Hunter!” She ran for the corridor beyond Carter and Rafael.
Carter grabbed her arm to stop her, but she easily pulled free from him. Rafael moved into her path. She ran into him, bounced off his large body, and fell to the floor onto her backside. Jetta immediately scrambled to her feet. Rafael grabbed her by her shoulders and refused to let go.
“I have to get to Hunter. I can make it to my helicopter!”
“And what if you can't?” Rafael demanded.
“I have to try.”
“I'm sure Hunter is fine,” Rafael said firmly. “You can't go out there.”
“You don't understand,” she cried out in panic. “He told me he saw zombies. I told him they weren't real. I handed him to them. If he dies, it's my fault!”
“That was almost two hours ago, Jetta,” Rafael gently informed her.
“We need to contact the sheriff,” Carter announced.
“I'll try the radio,” Rafael announced then reluctantly released Jetta. He hurried down the corridor for the kitchen where the radio was located.
“We need to get everyone down here right away,” Carter announced and quickly turned toward Stacy. “Stacy, find out which rooms--”
Jetta pulled the fire alarm next to the elevators. The alarm wailed loudly throughout the hotel as lights flashed.
“Or we can do it that way,” Carter said flatly. “I'm going to get Lee in the penthouse. Keep everyone calm and together. Hopefully help with arrive soon.”
Carter frantically pressed the elevator button. Only a moment or two passed before the elevator arrived. The doors opened to reveal several guests, including Colleen and her husband, Allen. Carter hurried past them and entered the elevator, leaving the guests baffled. Doc assisted Bloom to a nearby sofa not far from where Styles was located. Bloom suddenly clutched his left arm, gasped for air, and collapsed. The bite wound on his hand was now visible.
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