Dead Tide

by Stephen A. North

  Dodd can barely breathe. Don’t let it be broken ribs. Carlos sits up beside him, blood running from a cut somewhere on his forehead. He

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  looks barely conscious. Dodd looks around. Rain is falling in the car through the jagged hole in the windshield. His clothes are getting soaked. He notices most of a pale hairy arm lying on the seat between him and Carlos.

  “Looks like he left us his left, eh Carlos?” Dodd hears laughter, but can’t be sure where it’s coming from. Guess I’m a little disoriented. Carlos isn’t laughing.

  The car begins to roll forward. My foot isn’t even on the gas. He notices that at least they are facing the right direction. In the light of his remaining headlight, he can make out the Police Station. He squints. Someone is going in! The car rolls closer and he can see the person better. It’s a man wearing a janitor’s outfit. Probably one of our maintenance guys. He doesn’t seem to be with it.

  The chest pain is easing. Dodd takes a deep breath then calls out, “Hey you!” He brakes and puts the cruiser into park. The guy doesn’t hear or is ignoring him. The janitor starts up the stairs, very uncoordinated and stiff. Oh God! Another one! Dodd exits and draws his pistol. He starts up the stairs after the guy.

  M ILLS HAS SEVERAL TERRIBLE THOUGHTS as they reach the exit door back by the Service Desk. The worst centers around the hatchet in Sid’s hand. He can’t help but picture the man hacking the living and the dead alike. One cut from that still bloody blade would probably infect you. Heh, probably! Better revise that to definitely. Why am I hesitating to shoot this guy, really?

  Sid gives him a brief questioning look. “Do you think we could stop by my fiance’s house? I’ve spent the last hour trying to get through on my cell, but I keep getting an out of service message. I’m worried.”

  Yeah Jack, and why don’t we all go get some drinks afterwards? Cocktails and some nachos!

  He finds himself nodding instead. “Sure Sid. We owe you big time for the keys. It would be the least we could do.”

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  “Well golly gee, Fireman Mills, that’s swell. Here, let me give you the keys now as a goodwill gesture.” Sounds just like the Beaver. Mills grins, chances a look back at Sid.

  Sid looks serious. His left arm is extended out, palm up, fingers cradling the key chain. “Really, go ahead and take them before I change my mind. One of us has to trust the other one first, right? I’ll be the one.”

  “I’m willing to wait Sid. Are you sure?” Sid tosses him the keys. Mills is so surprised he almost drops them, but with his left hand, he manages to hold them safe.

  “I’m not all bad. I just don’t enjoy being trifled with. Some people are asking for it. You know what I mean?” Sid is looking at both he and Kathy now, his face flushed and his breathing going ragged. “I’m a shopper just like anyone else, and I want my fucking self-respect! We’re all supposed to be equal when shopping. My money’s just as good as a flipping whore-mongers—Better even.”

  “Wait a minute Sid,” says Kathy. “It’s over. No reason to get worked up again.”

  Sid’s shoulders are heaving, but something slips through. He looks down at his feet. “You’re right. Those people are dead, and I have friends now. We are friends, aren’t we?”

  Mills makes himself take a step or two closer to Sid. The other man doesn’t react.

  He claps him on the shoulder. “Sure we are Sid, but you’ve got to be good and help me take care of Kathy.”

  Sid’s eyes get a faraway look, and he might be smiling. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I trained with the best. My master has a black belt with a stripe in Karate and after practice he’d show me some wrestling moves…”

  Kathy rolls her eyes. Mills barely catches himself, knows he’s teetering on the brink of uncontrolled laughter. Just have to hope that Sid doesn’t know. Because if he does… He’s not very forgiving.

  “Say,” says Sid. “Looks like it might rain soon.”

  Maybe I’d better just kill him now.

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  THE BARREL NEVER WAVERS. It’s rock-steady between my eyes. “I’m still not sure he ain’t dead,” says Kurt, standing somewhere

  behind Graham. “I mean, we picked him up like a sack of potatoes and

  tossed him. I’d swear he was dead.”

  The taller Asian guy, Fugi, is the one pointing the pistol. His eyes

  slide all over Graham, evaluating him with a flat, brown-eyed stare.

  Alligator eyes. Cold blood. “Well, he is pretty fucked up, but he don’t

  look dead, Kurt. Maybe they can use him on the perimeter?” “Is your name really Fugi?” Graham hears himself ask. “Naw… It’s just an acronym for Fuck You G. I.”

  Graham snorts a brief laugh. “That’s good.”

  Fugi smiles and lowers the pistol. “No hard feelings? They told us

  you were dead.”

  Graham looks him in the eyes. “No, no hard feelings. I understand.

  Did you happen to find my brass knuckles by the way?”

  “No, but you can have this pistol. I took it off the first guy you hit.

  His buddies swore he was still alive so we just hauled you and the old

  couple down to the barge.”

  Fugi offers him the weapon butt first. Graham takes it and looks it

  over; a six-shot revolver. He spins the cylinder. Still a full load. “That’s a Colt Python .357 with a four inch barrel. You might be

  able to drop a Rhino with that baby.”

  “Got any extra rounds?”

  “No. But if you find the guy, you can probably take them from him.” “Any chance I can get on your boat if I’m here by eight-thirty?” “You did hear everything then. I’ve got this sixth sense. Something

  told me someone was on the ladder.”

  Graham nods. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t wait long enough for you guys

  to be gone. I’m a taxi driver after all. We get impatient. Normally, I can

  make myself relax, but here I am a filthy mess and I need a shower and

  something to eat…”

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  Fugi holds up a hand. “I get the picture. You might have to go over to the Vinoy for most of that. As to whether you can come with us or not, that ain’t up to me. Could be our boss could use another gunman. Get yourself cleaned up and be back here before eight-thirty and who knows?”

  “Thanks for the gun,” says Graham, and the other man nods. “I probably won’t see you again. I’m looking for someone.” He turns away, back toward land and starts walking down the dock.

  Kurt’s overly-loud voice says, “He might not be dead yet, but he’s so close. We shoulda tossed him onto the barge again.”

  Don’t look back. Guy’s needling me. Better to ignore him.

  There is a gate at the end of the dock, but it isn’t locked. He opens it and after he steps through, closes it behind him. Sees a sudden flare of light near the back of a long low building. A thin guy in army camouflage is crouching there, out of the rain under the roof eave. He is smoking a cigarette. A rifle lies across his thighs, but his hands aren’t on it.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  “I’m with them,” Graham replies.

  “You guys are crazy. Whole State’s under quarantine. Nobody leaves. You understand what that means?”

  “Mind if I step out of the rain?”

  The guy gestures with a wave of his left hand. “Feel free.”

  Graham steps over and leans against the wall about three feet from the guy. Close up, he’s just a kid really. There’s a spray of freckles under his eyes and a wispy red mustache over a thin-lipped mouth.

  “I’m completely out of the loop here. I got the shit beat out of me last night. Guy stole my cab and left me for dead. I wake up to… this. Been wondering if maybe I’m really dead and this is hell.”

  “Yeah? That’s tough. I’m a reservist. I get this call telling me to come to the Reserve Center on the double. I don’t know what time it was…
maybe four in the morning? My sergeant’s a son-of-a-bitch! He’s been on my ass nonstop until they put him in with the doctor giving the checkups down at the restaurant there.”

  Graham laughs. “I met him. Pretty blunt talking guy. So what’s this about nobody leaving the State?”

  “Oh yeah! Guess you never heard, huh? Supposedly the Coasties or the Navy will sink any ship or boat that tries to leave. Far as I know, nobody’s tried yet. I think you’re okay as long as you stay in the bay. Somebody sure has some plans for that cruise boat, though. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

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  “I may have heard people talking about it. Sort of a reverse Titantic, I guess.”

  The guy puts the cigarette to his mouth, takes a long drag. The tip glows brightly in the growing darkness. Smoke wreathes his face momentarily.

  “What’s that you say about the Titanic?”

  Wonder if he’ll offer me a cigarette?

  “It’s the reverse this time. Rich people want to be first to get on this one.”

  “Never saw the movie mister. I hate that Dicaprio guy.”

  “Ah…”

  “Now that Poseidon Adventure—that was a flick!”

  “I need to go. Look, my name is Graham. I need to go find somebody. Maybe I’ll see you around later?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Graham. My name’s Louie. Say, ah, could you do me one favor?”

  “What’s that, Louie?”

  “The next building is the restaurant where they’re inspecting people. Could you check in on the Sarge for me? I heard a shot a little while ago, but he told me not to worry unless a bunch of shots were fired.”

  Graham nods. “I’ll check. If you don’t see me in the next few minutes, then there’s no problem, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Graham turns away. Now, if I can avoid anymore setbacks…

  I’ M TIRED, MARGE. And I don’t know what I’m doing. His thoughts come and go, thoroughly disjointed, like someone aimlessly picking on a guitar.

  The first thing he sees appear through the rain is a statue of a panther. It is frozen forever in a stalking position, hunting in the grass. Somebody stole one of them once and caused quite an uproar. Never caught them.

  Something is wrong with the windshield wipers. Occasionally, the right wiper blade twitches. The rain is coming down just hard enough that the wipers have to stay on. “I told that goddamned Larry over in Vehicle Maintenance that he’d better RainX all the cruisers.”

  Beside him, Pitts grunts.

  In the end, somehow, despite Ramos’ protests, they still took all three cars. Hadley still ended up in the mayor’s cruiser sitting up front, still in the passenger seat. Pitts is driving and the mayor and his floozy are cuddling in the back.

  “I got this sudden craving, Chief,” says Pitts.

  Hadley gives a start. The fucker’s pulling on his goddamn nose hairs again! I won’t let it get to me. I won’t…

  “What for?” Hadley asks back, not really wanting to encourage conversation. Rather enjoy the scenery. He’d always loved Snell Isle. The neighborhood lawns were always immaculately groomed and the houses well-maintained. Words like Stately came to mind. Lush. Luxurious. Classy.

  “Chicken wings and beer! Man, that would sure hit the spot right now…”

  “Who knows what’s on this guy’s yacht? I’m sure there will be something for you.”

  “Well it ain’t gonna be any pleasure cruise, Chief. We’re running for our lives.”

  Hadley nods. “I don’t know where we’re running to. It seems like every time things get tough, people run. Why is that? Running might buy you some time but it doesn’t solve your problem. Think about it. If we run from Iraq for instance…”

  The mayor makes an indignant noise and whispers something. Hadley resists the urge to look, but Pitts is either too dumb or inexperienced to know better. He turns toward the back seat immediately.

  Marilee squawks something and slaps Pitts hard. Hadley grabs the wheel just in time to keep them on the road. “Do you think this is romantic Ritchie? Just you and me and two hick idiots?

  Pitts quite unwisely speaks up, “Hey, I voted for Kerry! I’m no hick idiot!”

  “Shut up! And keep your eyes off my tits Mister!”

  “Calm down Marilee. We’re almost there. Look there’s the Arabian Nights Tower and Minaret. See it?”

  Hadley looks up. Pitts has steered them around a curve and just visible is the Sunset Golf Course Clubhouse. It does, sort of, look like

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  something from the Arabian Nights. Palm trees line the road. You drive by these places all your life without ever knowing the history or the reason why something is. All he really knows is that some guy named C. Perry Snell built it way back in the twenties.

  “I hate feeling dirty Ritchie. I need a shower and clean clothes.” Ramos’ vehicle is in the lead. For the moment, the gunner is out of sight and the turret hatch buttoned up. There are no obstructions in the road, but the Hummer could make short work of most. Hadley looks in his mirror mounted just outside the door. Their benefactor, Lionel, is right behind them.

  “Chief?” says Pitts. “Yeah, Duane?” Hadley turns back forward. People are out in the rain, just walking around.

  “Looks like those bridge guards just thought they were guarding this place.”

  One person, a woman in her late forties, steps in front of the car and Pitts doesn’t even brake. The middle-aged woman is struck and vanishes. There are a series of thumps beneath the car. Pitts laughs.

  “That was gross. You didn’t have to do that,” says Marilee.

  “She didn’t feel anything Miss.”

  “So you say. How did you ever become a policeman?”

  Pitts scratches his head. “A clean driving record helped…”

  “WE COULD GO INSIDE, out of the rain?” Janicea asks, standing beside him. He runs his fingers along the rough texture of the concrete wall.

  Remembers being here as a boy and having his mom or uncle boost

  him so he could see the water below, on the other side. The water was

  always dark, murky. No telling what was swimming down there. “Do you think the water was ever clear here, Janice?” He looks her

  in the eyes.

  “You mean the Bay?”

  “Yes.”

  “We messed it up somehow, I’m sure. We humans mess up most

  good things.”

  He nods, lowers his eyes. “Part of being human, I guess.” “I’ve been asking for two things, Bronte. Two big things. If you say

  yes to even one of them life might still be worth living for me.” He looks back up at the beautiful perfect face. Waits. “Forgiveness is one. I’ve allowed myself to hate—completely. It

  consumed me.”

  “And the other?” he asks.

  Her lower lip trembles. “Another chance?”

  He reaches with both arms and pulls her in, chin against his left

  shoulder. Feels her breath on his neck. He whispers in her ear, “You’ve

  always had the first, Janice. You’re the one that couldn’t forgive—At

  least not until recently. I think you’ve come a long way since last night.” “And what about the second?”

  “You care too strong, too fast. I take my time. There’s too much

  going on right now for me to know. Maybe once we get out of this mess?” The silence draws out, and he can hear water dripping, and people

  talking nearby. Somewhere in the distance there is the hum of an

  approaching helicopter.

  She moves a hand over his back, then hugs him tighter. “Okay Bronte.”

  SO CLOSE, SO CLOSE: the words like a mantra in his mind. That someone might not be there to let him in was never in question. I’ve got a card. One more step. Then someone is yelling at him from behind. To be so close… Full of despair, and desperate rage, Blake spins around, fighting for balance. Settles with his back against the gl
ass double doors. Sees a tall, lanky cop ascending the stairs, pointing a gun at him.

  “Die! Die! Die!” the cop screams and stops to aim. His face is demonic, mouth scowling, eyes wild. Blake looks down the barrel as the man slowly steadies his aim. There is a dry click.

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  The cop has a puzzled look on his face. Like he can’t believe the gun could be empty.

  Blake lets out a sigh. The cop’s name plate says Dodd. If I give this guy time to reload, it’s over. “Excuse me Officer Dodd, are you finished now? I’ve really had enough stress for one day.”

  Dodd looks up, a beautiful shocked expression on his face.

  “I’m not one of them. Please, I don’t want to die.”

  The shocked expression and any trace of concern fade away. The scowl is reforming. He raises his pistol and drops the empty magazine. Blake isn’t sure, but he thinks he must have pushed a release button. The empty goes into a pants pocket and a full magazine from his ammo pouch replaces it. All this is done in an efficient, practiced manner. As the new magazine slides up into the well inside the pistol’s handgrip, he gives the butt a slap, apparently to make sure it is seated properly. There is no danger unless he pulls the slide. Right now the pistol’s chamber is empty. What the hell is this guy going to do? He knows I’m alive.

  The cop looks him up and down, apparently evaluating him, then says, “What the hell did you mean by that crack, asking me if I’m finished?”

  Don’t be afraid. You escaped Joss and worse. “Just trying to get your attention before you killed me, Officer. You were screaming at me.”

  The cop’s fierce expression relaxes again and now he looks a bit rueful. “I was wasn’t I? So, what’s your name? I’m Dodd.”

  Blake is puzzled, but relieved. Maybe this guy isn’t going to kill me after all? Maybe he has a sense of humor? “I’m Maintenance over at the Coroner’s, and my name’s Morgan, Morgan Blake. They actually have me work over here occasionally, also. I do have my pass card. I was hoping someone was alive here.”

  “Ah, you must know that Doctor Bastrov—What a hot piece of action that is! I just wish she was friendlier.”