Troy obeyed, flooring the gas and screeching the tires. The car’s tires went up and over the curb, across part of the yard, and into the street beyond, rather than around the corner. Within ten feet, dense trees and a hedge concealed them from the following dead. Troy cut the engine, pocketed the car keys, and opened his car door.
“Come on,” he said, but Natalie was already opening her door.
Gabe was standing at an open gate through the hedge waiting for them. As soon as they were through the gate, Gabe shut it. They were standing in an unkempt yard with several towering trees and a thick bed of leaves carpeting the ground. The gate was part of a wrought iron fence that bordered the hedge on this side of the property. In the center was a dilapidated two-story house with walls of rough-mortared stone and a gray-tiled roof.
“Is everybody dead?” Troy asked.
“No, Sid, Chato and some kid went to pick up more survivors. Sid must have pissed off this soldier that was with the kid. I was left as a rear guard, while Sid got away. I’m not sure whether he really went to rescue people or not. All I know is that the soldier was killing everyone when I got him.”
“You killed the soldier?”
“I shot him in the leg, I think,” Gabe said. “I’m pretty sure the stiffs got him after that. He never came out from behind a car, and the stiffs swarmed around it when I dropped him. I was still waiting for another shot when you two showed up.” He glanced at Natalie. “Who’s the bitch?” he asked, looking Natalie up and down, as if sizing up a piece of meat. His mustache and the little soul patch below his bottom lip gave him a sinister appearance.
Strike one, and strike two, Natalie thought. Aloud, she said, “This bitch knows how to handle a gun, and you better respect that.”
Gabe’s face darkened, and he took a step toward her but Troy intervened.
“Back off, Gabe, she’s with me,” he said.
“Then you better keep her bitchy mouth shut, or I’ll put something in it.”
Troy’s hand tightened on hers, and Natalie forced herself to remain quiet. The guy was obviously an asshole.
“I won’t ask again, Gabe,” Troy said. Natalie wondered which of the two would win if there was a fight. Gabe was taller and lankier, but so many Asians seemed to know how to fight. Thinking about the two men squaring off made her nervous.
Gabe shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sid will probably take her from you anyway. Let’s go back inside. I got a good spot up on the roof where you can see everything around here.”
Sid will probably take me? Natalie wanted to ask. What the hell did that mean? No point in worrying about it now. For the moment she was safe. She’d ask Troy later what Gabe meant. She had to trust that Troy meant what he said earlier about killing Sid. She was pretty sure that Troy was on her side. Guys lied to her as often as they did to other women, but he seemed sincere. Still, she’d much rather be with Sam. Her eyes began to fill when she thought about him, and what she’d lost before even having a chance. The soldier, Mark, had been a nice guy, too, but Sam was all she’d thought about for two years.
One thing that was sure? She didn’t want to depend on anyone else to be safe. She needed to change, and it needed to start right now. This new world was uglier than the old one, but she was a survivor. She’d come out alive and well from things that would cripple or kill other people.
Gabe walked up a sidewalk that connected the gate to the house’s front door. Two waist high clay planters with dead bushes stood on either side of a two-step stair landing outside the front door. The door itself was made of wood and banded with iron. It made her think of a castle door. It was standing open when they arrived. She figured Gabe must have left it that way when he came to get them since he didn’t appear surprised to find it open.
It was cooler inside. There was a long stretch of almost white terrazzo floor with a big Middle Eastern rug and old paintings of people on the walls. There were two closed doors, one on either side, and about ten feet down the passage opened into a living room with lots of bookcases.
Natalie loved the house already.
The living room had a twelve-foot cathedral ceiling, and to the right was a large expanse of more books, couches, recliners and a small, ancient TV. Straight ahead was another hallway, and to the left, a staircase with maroon carpet fanned open like a river delta near the floor and narrowed down as it climbed to a landing about eight feet up, and then it split to the left and right. Centered in between the turnings, highlighted by a skylight, was a decrepit, well-used set of armor with helm, sword, and shield.
“That’s sick!” Natalie said.
Gabe grunted something, and led them across the room to the stairs. Troy turned back and smiled briefly.
“Looks like crusader armor,” he said. “My family is descended from Spanish nobility. One of my ancestors was a crusader.”
Gabe said, “Bullshit, man, I never read about any Asian crusaders.”
“I am half Japanese and half Puerto Rican,” Troy said proudly.
“Named Troy?” Gabe snorted. “I never heard of any Jap or Puerto Rican crusaders either!”
Natalie saw color bloom high on Troy’s cheeks, and she knew he was angry. She was glad that all she’d done was listen. Troy didn’t respond, but Natalie knew he wasn’t going to forget Gabe’s comments.
Looking at Gabe’s back as he passed the armor, Natalie thought to herself, Strike three, motherfucker!
80. Johnny
Johnny stood up on the lifeboat’s deck and faced forward, curious about where they were going. In the distance, the St. Petersburg shoreline was growing closer. He guessed that they were looking at the Shore Acres neighborhood. Weedon Isle wasn’t far away, and the towering smoke stacks of the power plant were visible over the mangroves.
Two boats were anchored near a piece of land that looked like it was separated from the mainland by a canal. Johnny thought it might be an island, but it was covered with houses. Several more islands were visible further south, all still natural, mangrove islands with a few scattered palm trees. Those islands were probably glorified sandbars at high tide.
The two distant boats were different types. One was a huge yacht, and the other a shrimp boat. Johnny figured that was where they were going.
Marcel and Anna were both standing next to him. Gretchen, Ike, and Huff were down below.
Marcel remarked, “Nice boat.”
“I was on one like that for spring break a year and a half ago,” Anna said. “That’s how I got pregnant.”
“No shit?” Marcel exclaimed. “Didn’t picture you as a party girl.”
“I was hanging with the wrong crowd. Got drunk. I wish I could remember more of what happened before I passed out, but remembering the before is enough. Now I have this little guy as a constant reminder of my life-changing night.”
“Where’s the father?” Marcel asked in what came across as a blunt tone to Johnny. Crass too. Johnny figured he didn’t realize how he sounded.
Anna lowered her eyes, and in a small voice, answered, “I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Marcel replied. He sounded embarrassed now.
“It’s okay. I made a decision and now I have to live with it.”
“Listen up, everyone!” Huff shouted. “This is where we part ways. Those of you who are going to the shelter, just relax for a few more minutes. We are about to transfer you to the yacht. The rest of you need to gather your belongings. We will put you ashore at the Mariner’s Pass Condominiums shortly.”
“Where is that?” Marcel asked.
“I remember where we are,” Anna said. “Those condos are there!” She pointed off to the right. Sure enough there were quite a few two-story buildings behind some houses inshore, about a half mile away. “Shore Acres Elementary School is across the street, and Mangrove Bay Golf Course is on the other side. Those houses to our left are part of Tanglewood Island, and to our front they are part of the Tanglewood Neighborhood…”
Her voice trailed off, and Johnny a
lmost missed the last part.
“Probably a lot of zombies out there.”
The lifeboat was down to a slow drift, almost without any forward headway, when Huff tossed a line to a guy on the yacht. The two boats slowly came toward one another, but before they did, Huff and Gretchen separated them with big rubber fenders. The chosen people began to transfer over to the yacht. Within moments, nine people, one of them Gretchen, boarded the other boat. Twenty people, one of them Huff, were still aboard the lifeboat. Two of the yacht’s crewmen cast off the lines, and pushed the lifeboat away.
“Okay people, I’ll take you ashore now. In case any of you get any ideas, take a look over at the yacht.”’
Huff was pointing toward the yacht’s rear deck. The same two crewmen were standing there, one holding an M-16 assault rifle, and the other some sort of machine gun.
Johnny looked at his fellow survivors. Ike was the only one who looked like he’d get any ideas. He looked pretty pissed off, but he wasn’t saying anything.
“Got me?” Huff asked. No one said anything. “Okay then,” he said, walking back into the lifeboat’s cabin. The engine chugged back to life, and the boat began a long, looping curve to the right. Everyone was quiet. The houses drew steadily closer, and Johnny saw a few people looking at them from the backyards of houses bordering the water. A few minutes passed, and once again the boat began to slow.
“This is as close as I can get you. Everyone just slip over the side right here, and you can almost wade ashore.”
A wail went up from the survivors. Someone shouted, “I can’t swim!”
“If any of you get any ideas about killing me and coming back here with this boat, the guys on the yacht will shoot to kill. This is where we part ways. Now get off my boat!”
Johnny stepped to the side, and grabbed life vests from a pile near the seats. He handed one to Anna, one to Marcel, and then he put his own on.
“We better do this quickly,” Johnny said. “I’ll go over first, and then, Anna, you hand me the baby, and both of you come after. We’ll stick together.”
The other two people looked scared, and Anna’s baby was crying.
“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Ike said.
Huff had his hand on his gun, but it was in his waist band, leaving him no time to react when Ike swung his bat. The wooden shaft connected with his head. A solid sickening smack and Huff went down and didn’t even twitch.
Ike bent over and retrieved the gun.
“Now, everybody listen up, this is what we’re gonna do…”
81. Clive
A long, mostly uneventful hour passed, during which Clive thought about Chinese food and how much he was going to miss it. This train of thought wasn’t productive. It was sure to lead to a long list of other luxuries of civilization that he was going to miss.
“This is it,” Candace said, pointing toward an unmarked two-lane road to their left. They were in the middle of what must be miles of forested hills and mountains. A swollen creek ran alongside the left edge of the road, with only a few feet of rock-strewn median in between. It was hard to judge from the car how deep it was, but it was moving fast. The water came right up to the bottom of the concrete of the bridge, and was overlapping the road in places on the approach. Clive slowed down, turned cautiously onto the turnoff, and drove onto the bridge. The tree branches were growing together from either side of the road, and the shadows were deep.
“It’s like a leafy tunnel,” Ritchie said from the backseat.
“We’re close to a guard post if I remember correctly,” Candace said, looking at the right side of the road where it widened. There were places to pull off, wide enough for a big truck, on either side. A sawhorse barrier was astride the road, along with some spiked wheel traps. Two soldiers wearing MP brassards on their arms stepped out of the trees. One of them pointed his rifle at them, while the second soldier motioned for them to stop.
“This is a restricted area,” the second soldier said. His name tag read Collins, his rank tab was that of a private, and his helmet was pushed back away from his long, thin face. He looked sweaty and miserable. He also looked too young to be a soldier.
Clive held up his badge. “I’m Secret Service, and this is Speaker of the House Candace Fiore. The two guys in the back are press corps.”
Collins didn’t look impressed with Clive, but he straightened up immediately when he looked at Candace’s badge and saw that she was the real deal.
“Let ‘em through, Patrick,” he said to the soldier behind him.
Patrick grumbled, but slung his rifle quickly enough and moved aside the barriers.
“Welcome back, ma’am,” Collins said, as they drove past.
Candace smiled at him.
The road sloped upward and wound through the trees. Two minutes later, they saw a large bay door in the mountainside, open and waiting for them.
Clive drove in, and they entered a lighted, oversized tunnel, large enough for two vehicles to pass. The tunnel was level and straight, and shortly thereafter they entered a cavernous room that had a long line of military and civilian vehicles. Another soldier with a slung rifle guided them into a parking space at that end where a man and woman stood. A short distance behind them, there were two staff officers with side arms.
The man was about 5‘9”, and looked trim and fit in his battle dress uniform. There was a holstered pistol on his belt and five stars on his collar. Clive recognized him as General Kyler. The woman was attractive in a girl next door fashion, with shoulder length blonde hair streaked with brown and a nice figure. She wore a lab coat and slacks. Clive had no idea who she was.
Candace got out of the car after Clive turned the engine off. Kyler strode forward with his hand outstretched, and Candace shook it.
“Good to see you again, Madam Speaker,” he said.
No one greeted him, or for that matter, Mathers or Ritchie, either. Candace didn’t bother to introduce him or the others. He realized it was time for him to fade into the background. That never bothered him before, but then again he hadn’t allowed himself to care about anyone in decades.
Clive wondered where the crowd of politicians and soldiers were that should be getting their turn now. And didn’t Candace have two kids? Would her ex-husband be here?
“There’s been a lot going on, Madam Speaker,” Kyler said.
Mathers was standing right behind them, while Ritchie filmed the whole thing. He couldn’t resist, or wanted to catch their reactions, and spoke up, “That’s Madame President, General! The president is dead.”
Kyler’s aging, but still dignified, face went gray. “Is this true, Madame Speaker?”
“He claims to have footage and pictures, General,” Candace answered. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Well, Lance,” Kyler said, “I don’t like your tactics on this, but let’s get into the conference room and get to the bottom of this.”
Candace didn’t look happy. “I’m so glad to have you with me at this time, General, but where are my husband and children? I’d rather see them first.”
“Captain Porlock and Major Powell will escort you all to the room, and I will bring your husband and the children there to meet you,” Kyler replied.
Candace looked unsure, but she followed Porlock and Powell when they motioned toward an elevator door. Porlock was a tall, nearly skeletal white guy, and Powell was a big, powerful-looking black man.
Clive trailed along behind, feeling put out and useless. Mathers had his revenge, unwitting or not. None of the people there appeared to notice him, but he imagined there would be questions later, maybe even an interrogation. He sighed and let his shoulders slump.
Clive was alive, and the person he’d sworn to protect was not.
82. Hicks
He waited for the sun to go down and night to fall. He was relaxed and felt good. A lot of his fatigue fell away. How long this second—or was it third?—wind would last was anyone’s guess.
When it came to his private
life, Hicks was more than a little secretive. He’d never been particularly outgoing, and he and Booth had never been close. Jacobs and Booth got along well, but he had been friendlier with Watson, Lepski, and Shell. That was just the way things were. Of course, they all knew what made each other tick. They had to. If one of them was neurotic or phobic about something, the others had to know.
What they didn’t have to know was that his uncle had a house roughly three miles from the golf course clubhouse that was as isolated as a house could be around here, and that it overlooked Tampa Bay and the Bayside Bridge. That uncle was also a rich, lifelong bachelor who owned several houses, and Hicks was his favorite nephew.
Hicks had somewhere to go, and he also knew the area intimately. He figured now was the best time to find out whether that house was an option. He doubted he would come back, but if he wanted, he still had walkie-talkie communication with Booth.
He could call for help, or call to help. For now, though, a little one-man reconnaissance seemed like a good idea. No simpering woman, squalling kid, or over-the-hill crew chiefs to get on his nerves.
He set off at a fast walk across the golf course, his rifle cradled in his left arm. These dead things weren’t Russian commandos. They weren’t even as alert as a civilian security guard, and none of them could run or fire a gun. He’d only be in trouble if they cornered him.
If Hicks admitted the truth to himself, he’d acknowledge how arrogant he was growing about his own ability. His now dead companions were only dead due to ill chance or misfortune. None were dead because these things outsmarted them. He was certain that he’d survive unless fate or mischance intervened.
His path was taking him closer to the highway, where he knew hundreds of the dead were congregated, and to the small woods they passed over earlier that bordered the airport. The woods were his intended course. The highway wasn’t safe, even for him. It would require patience he didn’t have to navigate.
The moon was out, and that was both a boon and a curse. He could see them, but the reverse was also true. He decided to try travelling behind the businesses that bordered Roosevelt Boulevard; going through the airport sounded more dangerous.
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