Dead Tide Surge

by Stephen A. North

  That was when Marcel saw the pallet and the hazardous materials symbol they were looking for.

  52. Clive

  Rungs were inset in the block wall, ending about fifteen feet up a small tunnel to a hatch in the ceiling. A ladder. Clive reached up and spun the locking wheel until he heard a click. He pushed up on the hatch and felt some resistance. He pushed up again sharply and felt something give. Dirt cascaded down onto his face, and he spat as the door opened all the way and struck the ground.

  Candace sneezed.

  “Bless you,” Clive whispered. He poked his head up and raised himself out of the tunnel. Placing a knee in the stiff, dead grass, he stood, then leaned down and helped Candace climb out.

  They stood in a stand of shortleaf pine trees near the bottom of two hills. The trees were close to a hundred feet tall, with yellow trunks, and dark green needles. A few cones littered the spongy ground.

  “Which way do we go?” Candace asked.

  “I’m not sure where we are. You see any sign of the resort?”

  “I see an antenna over there,” she said, pointing over his shoulder. Clive turned around, and had to look close, but he did see some sort of cell tower poking up above the trees on a hill about a mile away.

  “Okay, well, we’ll go that way so we can find the road. They may have some maps in the lobby or something. Maybe we can even find a car,” he said, and looked at her bare feet. “We aren’t equipped to just start traipsing through the woods as we are.”

  Candace smiled at him. Her hand found his, and they began to make their way through the close-set tree trunks. It wasn’t easy going, and quite often he lifted or carried her to avoid rocks or fallen branches. Rather than try to climb the hill, he led her around it. He wore sturdy, comfortable shoes that cost over $150 dollars, but they weren’t made for hiking, either.

  About twenty minutes later they exited the trees and stood in the parking lot overlooking the three-story hotel where it perched on the far side at the edge of a gorge. One car and four SUVs were in the lot but no sign of any people.

  He was sweaty, but Candace was leaning against him anyway. It made him feel good, until he looked down at her feet and legs. They were scraped and dirty.

  “Your poor feet,” he said. She didn’t protest when he turned to the side, leaned over a bit, got his left arm under her knees, and hoisted her up in his arms. He was exhausted and his chest was killing him, but he couldn’t let her know that. He wasn’t sure what was motivating his tenderness toward her, beyond his innate courtly manner with women. It wasn’t pity, although he did feel sorry for her when he thought about what she’d been through and survived.

  “You don’t have to carry me, you know,” she said.

  “Should’ve carried you the whole way,” he replied. “We need to find you some shoes.”

  “Didn’t they shoot you?”

  “They missed,” he said. His breath was a bit short.

  “Like hell they did. Put me down, Clive.”

  “When we reach the sidewalk, Candace. Just a few more feet.”

  “Stubborn man! Now!”

  He set her down gently on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Candace was still holding his hand. He gave the hotel and its grounds a closer look.

  There was a knee-high hedge that ran around the sidewalk and parking lot’s perimeter and eventually led to the hotel entrance. Massive maple trees were spaced at twenty foot intervals behind the hedge, and all of them overtopped the hotel’s roof. The hotel itself appeared to have a Spanish or Mediterranean influence with white-washed walls, a red barrel-tile roof, and a gated courtyard. The arched gate was made of upright steel bars.

  Clive pointed at the SUV that was closest to the hotel’s entrance. “See that Trooper over there? It’s a secret service vehicle. Probably a waste of time, but we could find the keys inside.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Clive. I’m just grateful to be alive and out of that hole. When I think about what could’ve happened…I owe you my life.”

  “It’s what I do. Actually, in the end I failed. Who knows? You could be the president now.”

  She smiled brightly. “Perhaps. I’m pretty sure, however, that means nothing at this point.”

  “Well, let’s see if we can get you outfitted properly, and get the hell out of here. Sound good?”

  “We have to be brave all the time now, don’t we? It isn’t so bad with you. Let’s get moving.”

  53. Booth

  Booth led them at a slow jog around the hangar building and onto the landing strip behind it. They had an unobstructed view of mangroves and Tampa Bay to the east, and the airport’s main concourse, terminal, and several large airplanes to the south. He thought it would be best to hug the shoreline and the airport’s fringes in order to escape the horde behind them wandering around the terminal.

  They were sweating within minutes as they crossed the stretch of concrete runway, bleached white by the sun, and made their way to the grass beyond.

  Booth mopped his forehead with a bandanna.

  Julie said something he didn’t quite catch as he skirted the edge of the mangroves and followed them to the south.

  “What did you say?” he asked her.

  “I’d love to go swimming,” she answered.

  The water was beautiful and the sun was bright. It wasn’t a day when anyone should die. The mangroves had a tangled mass of roots that rose above the water—water which was shallow and clear enough to see to the light brown, muddy bottom. It wasn’t a sandy bottom. Booth knew it would be slimy and mucky on his feet.

  It was better to skirt the edge, and avoid it if possible. The roots would make for hard going, even if they didn’t have George with them.

  It was a long, thirsty walk, and he wasn’t sure where they were going. On the far side of the mangroves, he could make out, what looked like, several rows of buildings. That made him uneasy. More people. As they walked, he mulled over what to do. Only a couple of options appealed to him. They drew even with a road that led to a boat ramp. He could lead them down it, to the water, and they could wade around the buildings if they had to. The second option would be to walk around the buildings, end up at the center of the airport, and make their way from there.

  Five minutes later, they turned the corner of the forest’s edge, and Booth realized that the buildings were hangars for small airplanes. He let go a pent up breath. Odds were good that not many of the dead would be wandering near there. There were at least four rows of the white buildings that he could see. Each had ten small driveways and a garage-style door that was big enough for small propeller driven planes. All the doors were closed on the outermost row.

  “Neither of you know how to fly, do you?” Julie asked.

  Booth shook his head, and Hicks said, “No ma’am.”

  “I wish one of us did,” Julie said. “There are planes all over the place around here.”

  Booth didn’t bother to answer. Where did she think they’d go, anyway? It was better to focus on what they could and should do. He thought again about the difficulties involved in taking George out into the water, knowing it would probably tack a couple of hours onto their trek.

  A moment later, he led them out in the open, and hoped nothing would go wrong. The building was at least a hundred and fifty yards away. He hadn’t seen a zombie who could sprint yet, so he felt fairly secure with the decision. The distance to the terminal was even longer, but he could see milling shapes over there.

  They crossed back over onto a runway. A small, almost nonexistent breeze blew, but wasn’t enough to cool any of them off. Booth estimated they only had about a third of a mile between them and the fence that separated them from a golf course.

  “Stick close to me,” Booth said to Julie, “in case we have to run.”

  “I will.”

  One of the dead must have spotted them. He was about a hundred feet away. A mechanic or something, wearing a yellow jumpsuit.

  Booth dismiss
ed him. He was too far away to matter.

  The boy was whining. His mother shushed him. Booth tuned him out.

  Five more minutes of walking led them to a tall, chain link fence at the airport’s perimeter. Hicks didn’t wait to be told. He took out a pair of wire clippers to cut a hole through the fence links. A field full of knee high palmetto bushes was on the other side, with some scattered stands of palm and pine trees. Beyond that, he saw the golf course. He set George down, and the boy went and stood by his mother.

  “Any idea where we should go, yet?” Lassiter asked, not addressing anyone in particular. He raised a hand to his brow and squinted toward the golf links.

  Hicks had a blank look on his face, and Julie and George weren’t paying attention. “Really not sure, yet,” Booth answered. He slapped at a mosquito buzzing his neck. “How about you?”

  Lassiter shrugged. “There’s some warehouses we could hide in over by Roosevelt. We do need to rest and eat.”

  “Sounds better than wandering around a golf course,” Booth replied. “I’m pretty sure all there is beyond the links are bayous and then the bay.”

  “There’s a lot of nothing out here,” Hicks agreed. “If we don’t find a vehicle, some of us are going to have some sore legs tomorrow.”

  Booth knew that Hicks was referring to Lassiter, Julie, and boy. He and Hicks could walk for days.

  “May as well cut our way out now,” Booth said.

  Hicks was already cutting the links. Within minutes, he had a man-sized opening. Booth went out first. Julie and George came through next, followed by Lassiter and Hicks.

  Booth considered the terrain before them. He intended to take them to the southwest for now. That was where Roosevelt Boulevard was, and a built-up area of warehouses, small factories, a strip that included restaurants, nightclubs, and gas stations. To get there, they would have to pass across the field of palmetto bushes that would be waist high on George, then part of the golf course. Beyond that was the strip. Tactics demanded that he stick to cover as often as possible and avoid open spaces. Of course, that was what traditional tactics demanded if time permitted.

  “We’ll move out using the V formation. What that means,” he said, looking at Julie, “is that I will take point, Hicks and the chief here will be to the left and right at either side, and you and George can trail behind me about twenty feet. If we move that way, we have the best chance to react to whatever we run into. I need you and George to pay attention, and try not to make a lot of noise.”

  Julie nodded. “I understand, Sergeant.”

  “Everyone else, good?” Booth asked.

  The other two men nodded.

  “Odds are,” Hicks said, “we won’t run into anyone anyway.”

  “Anybody need water before we go?” Lassiter asked.

  Julie and George both nodded. He unslung a big, cowboy style canteen and handed it to George, who started chugging it down.

  “Whoa,” Julie said, “that’s enough, honey.”

  “I was thirsty, Mom,” he said.

  Booth caught himself smiling along with the others. The boy was lifting them all up with his spirit. He was glad the boy wasn’t aware of the situation. From the defeated slump of Julie’s shoulders, he could guess her state of mind. Better to keep moving, now, while they all still could.

  “Let’s go,” Booth said, over his shoulder. Inspiration drew him up short. He looked back at the boy and said, “Hop up on my back, George. You can ride on my shoulders.”

  “Can I, Mom?” George asked his mother.

  “Sure you can, son,” Julie replied.

  Booth caught Julie smiling at him as he lifted the boy into place. It made him wish he knew what he was doing here. Odds were that this woman and child were never going to see the president again, let alone leave Florida. He was sure that the old world had a few last gasps, but it would soon be a memory. No one was going to rescue them.

  “Help me keep an eye out for bad guys, George,” he said and patted the boy’s knee.

  George laughed. “Got my eye out, sir!”

  Booth settled his rifle and set out at a brisk pace, high stepping through the palmettos.

  The late afternoon sun was bright, and Booth could feel sweat beading in his hair and at his temples. His forearms were slick with it. Walking through the palmettos only took a few minutes, and then they stepped onto a golf green. There was no sign of anything, living or otherwise.

  They walked up a small, manmade hill. At the top, the once living, moving river of metal over on Roosevelt Boulevard was now visible, motionless and glittering with reflected light; an asphalt river littered with life-size matchbox cars and trucks. There was movement over there. Mockeries of human life walked between the stalled vehicles.

  There were so many of them, Booth wondered how they would ever make it across. “We may have to wait for night to make it across that road.”

  “Why don’t we go there, instead?” Lassiter asked, pointing to a building a couple hundred yards to the east. “Wouldn’t the clubhouse be perfect?

  Booth had to agree. It did have good, clear avenues of fire, although there were a few trees. There would likely be some food and drinks in there and lots of booze. The thought had more appeal than he cared to admit. As long as they didn’t make much noise and stayed out of sight, they should be safe.

  “It’s a good choice,” Booth admitted. “You know anything about clearing a building, Chief Lassiter?”

  “Not much,” Lassiter answered.

  “Well then, I want you to stay here with the first lady and George, and Hicks and I will clear the building and come back for you. Stay alert.”

  Lassiter nodded. Booth looked over at the first lady. “You’ll be okay, ma’am. One step at a time, alright?”

  She nodded too. “Thank you…Sergeant?”

  Booth grinned at her. “It doesn’t matter, ma’am, but Sergeant works for me.”

  A quick confused look came and went on her face, replaced a moment later with the almost serene, girl next door smile she was famous for. There was something in her eyes, though. In the way she held his gaze and kept the smile. A lot was being said without words.

  He realized she was probably his for the taking. No doubt about that. He thought she knew as well that there wasn’t going to be any tearful reunion with her husband, no miracle trip against all odds with a happy ending.

  He gave her a wink, and turned away. It was the best he could do in the moment.

  The decisions were easy once he settled on a plan.

  54. Talaski

  “You hear me, Mills?”

  Keller was trying his walkie-talkie again, even as Talaski led them at a quick walk out of the parking lot, wincing every time the shopping cart rattled on the asphalt. It didn’t matter. More than a hundred of the dead followed them out into the side street. They never would have made it back to the fire truck, even if Mills hadn’t taken it.

  “Can you hear me, Mills? Does anyone?” Keller asked.

  The only response was dead air, occasional static.

  “It’s no use, Matt,” Talaski said. “Mine is dead. I must not have left it on the charger long enough. It happens. I bet Mills never had a chance to recharge his either.”

  They walked along quietly for several minutes.

  “We are going to abandon that cart if we don’t lose them soon,” Talaski said.

  Keller was pushing, and Amy was beside him, jogging at a good clip. The potholes and debris in the road were rough on the cart’s wheels.

  Talaski couldn’t help but think that they weren’t that far from where this whole nightmare began for them. He wondered what ever happened to that little boy, Daric. Had he made it? He knew he’d never know.

  Sadly, it was probably better if the boy was dead.

  He pushed these thoughts aside and attempted to focus on the here and now, and finding a way out. The three of them were jogging down a small road with houses on either side of the road. No sign of any live peo
ple. Just signs of their last moments, or worse yet, more of the living dead. The street was full of trash, abandoned cars, and both varieties of human corpses.

  Except for the dead, the scene could be that of a post-hurricane neighborhood.

  Talaski pulled his pistol rather than use the shotgun to shoot any of the dead that got too close.

  “Think we can pick up the pace, at least to a jog?” Talaski asked them.

  “I can,” Keller answered.

  Amy smirked. “I’ve been holding back. I was ready to run a long time ago. Just didn’t want to leave you two behind.”

  Talaski stepped his pace up until all three of them were jogging at a fairly good clip. He wasn’t sure how long they could keep it up, but hoped that they could put a few blocks between them and the dead and find a place to hide.

  Keller was still pushing the cart when they rounded a corner and turned onto another street. Talaski couldn’t tell which one because the sign was underneath a UPS truck. The dead were still everywhere. An old black man with a salt and pepper afro wearing a blue terrycloth robe was too close to avoid. Talaski clubbed him with the stock of his shotgun, and the three of them ran around him.

  They kept running right down the middle of the road. Along either side of the street were some old houses, many with trash in the yards, and all were mostly rundown and neglected.

  “This place was a warzone before all this happened, wasn’t it, Nick?” Amy asked.

  “Night or day, it wasn’t a good place,” Talaski replied.

  “Not even when I was a kid,” Keller added.

  Keller was a St. Pete native, while Talaski was nearly so. They’d both been roaming these streets together since they were teens. They usually only ended up in a place like this if Keller was driving, though; he was always making wrong turns. The thought brought a brief smile that lessened, if only for a moment, the grim lines nearly cast in stone on Talaski’s face.

  “Why don’t we turn in there?” Amy suggested, pointing at a large, completely out of place mansion two houses up on their right. There were immense oaks in the yard, a short concrete block fence around the perimeter, and a group of teenagers stumbling toward them through the gate. For a moment, Talaski wondered if they were still living, but that doubt evaporated like a desert mirage when he got a good look at them. They were physical wrecks, and had fought and died hard, judging by their condition, but reanimated all the same.