Dead Tide

by Stephen A. North

  block on her left. Maybe the power is still on around here? She starts to

  jog, barely seeing and dodging around a car parked in the street. On a

  whim, she stops and tries the driver’s door.

  193

  Locked.

  Tries the other three with the same result.

  The temptation to just sit down right here, in the middle of the street,

  is strong. Nothing is going right. She forces herself onward, but now she can feel exhaustion and stress beginning to tell. The jog becomes a walk. Two houses to go, but she is already slowing, disappointment sapping her will to go on.

  Solar lights.

  No power—Just a cheat.

  “Mom!” yells the same voice, but this time more ragged and

  heartbreaking.

  I have to do something.

  The child is somewhere just ahead, not far from the solar lights. Something stops her. The lights are arranged to outline a sidewalk

  and… lights! The idea comes from nowhere. She reaches down and pulls one up, putting her hand around the shaft still caked with muddy earth. It is one of the three tiered, vaguely Japanese types. So easy to steal. She remembers a salesman explaining this to her once, that this is the chief drawback to this type of landscape lighting.

  A half-assed flashlight is better than none! Feeling a little better with her light in hand, she starts back in the direction of the voice.

  “Mommy!” Might be a little girl, she thinks. “I’m hungry!” Spots her; a little waif in a nightgown standing on the porch of the neighboring house.

  “Shhhh, honey. My name’s Trish. I’ll help you.”

  The little girl steps back a little toward the front door, but there is a measure of relief in her expression. The feeble light reveals a mop of long brown curly hair and dimpled cheeks.

  Almost close enough to sweep her up into her arms. Two steps maybe.

  “Don’t be afraid sweetie.”

  The girl darts through the still open front door and even though Trish throws herself the last foot or two, it is too late. The door closes in her face and the sound of locks sliding into place is audible from the porch.

  Trish holds herself against the door. Feels her own heart beating rapidly.

  She forces herself to turn around, and then allows her butt to slide down to the porch. Think this over Trish! What is priority right now?

  194

  What are my options? The first and uppermost thing that occurs to her is the need for a safe, secure place to rest. After that, she doesn’t have much of a plan. Rescue the little girl if she can, maybe?

  Check the other doors. Of course!

  She lifts the light and goes around the left side of the house. A six foot high wooden fence divides the backyards. Only the neighboring house has a gate however. There is a paved stone pathway that winds around and into the backyard and several windows and an air conditioner mounted on a wooden pedestal.

  I need a ladder. She looks up. The roof of the house is flat, perfect to lie down on and not have to worry about rolling off. I may not be able to rescue the girl, but I can watch over her—Sort of.

  There is a detached single-car garage and the fence ends on the edge of the neighbor’s property. The backyard is mostly dirt and weeds and wide open to a dirt alleyway. Some toddler age toys litter the backyard and a very tired, rusty kid’s swing set is just to the right of the garage. The dominant feature is a large oak that overshadows the whole back yard and overhangs the house.

  No ladders though. Maybe in the garage?

  First she decides to try the back door. She hurries over. There is a small porch and two steps up to the door. Locked. The disappointment stops for only a moment. If the garage is unlocked maybe she can hide there. She takes the stairs in one step and stops again.

  The shapes of two men are shuffling across the yard from the alley. They are already in between her and the garage.

  Is the light attracting them? They definitely can see me.

  Adrenaline pumps through her once again, but doesn’t quite take off the tired, hungry edge. Fight or flight? The urge to run is overpowering her ability to reason. The first, closest man reaches for her making a grunting, gurgling sound. Up close he is a horror. Her ability to smell him is stronger at the moment than her ability to see him. Gagging, she ducks under his reaching arms, swings her hand around and buries the light spike in his face. Not sure where, but she swung with everything she had and it slid right in. No time to try to pull it free. She lets it go, even as one of his flailing hands grabs a handful of her shirt and rips. No time. He topples and she sprints past him toward the garage. Can’t see the second guy, but knows he is close. She grasps the door handle… turns, pulls the door open and throws a glance over her shoulder. The second guy is right there on her heels!

  She spins, yanking the door toward her as she lets her body fall backwards into the dark interior of the garage.

  195

  The door slams shut violently, nearly causing her to lose her grip on the door handle. She gets her feet under her, stands and feels for a lock on the door handle.

  The lock engages.

  The thing outside begins to beat on the door.

  H E CAN FEEL A TREMOR when he sets foot on the deck of the big yacht. The engines must already be on. Lionel’s friend is standing with his back to Hadley in a doorway that leads to what looks like a living room.

  “Hey what’s your name again?” Hadley asks. The little man turns around and meets his eyes briefly. “I’m Barney, Lionel’s friend. And you’re Jubal, right?” Barney has a smug look. Thinks he’s a high roller around here.

  “To ass wipes like you I’m Chief Hadley or Chief.” Hadley flashes him a small, mirthless smile. “Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal clear, Chief. You just let me know if I can get you anything.”

  “Got any beer?”

  “Sure, right this way.” Barney steps into the room and Hadley follows. It is a living room. Couch against the far wall with a recliner opposite it. Table lamps. A big LCD TV on the wall. There’s a fancy wooden bar to the far right, next to a set of double doors. Another door is opposite the one he’s just come through and two more are on the right and left sides of the room.

  Barney reaches down to a small refrigerator behind the bar’s small counter, comes back with a Michelob Light. Hadley shrugs, accepts it and twists off the cap.

  “We could cruise as far as Key West in this baby,” says Barney, lifting a beer of his own. “Not sure about Mexico, but wherever we go, it will be in style.”

  “That’s swell Barnaby. How about you set me up with another one of these and then we go find something to eat?”

  Barney’s face is red, and his bottom lip is pouting.

  196

  “Oh, lighten up Barney. I’m just having some fun with you. How much have we been able to laugh in the last ten hours or more?”

  Barney nods. “It’s just that respect is important to me, Chief. I’ve been in Lionel’s shadow my whole life. Even now, he gets to be the bigshot with the fancy boat that rescues everyone.”

  “You know what, son? It’s that kind of bullshit that will make you a coward. Don’t feel second to anybody but me.” Hadley grins. Hell, I’m almost feeling relaxed. How did that happen?

  “You’re right Chief. Let’s head down to the galley and see what we can find…”

  “Wait a minute,” says Hadley. “Who’re those people?”

  Barney frowns, squinting. Running across Lionel’s backyard are a bunch of women and a couple men. Barney is speechless. “I don’t know, but this doesn’t look good.”

  “Maybe I shoulda let Ramos kill those women after all,” Hadley murmurs.

  As they both stand half-paralyzed looking out the window, they see a woman fire a shotgun right into the face of one of Ramos’ men. The guy literally lifts off and disintegrates at roughly the same time. Hadley turns to Barney briefly. “You better arm yourself son.” He
doesn’t wait to see what Barney says but instead steps over to the door on the left. It opens onto the bridge and a small staircase going down. Right in front of him is a captain’s swivel chair, a steering wheel and an array of controls. There’s one door also on the right, but nobody is present. “Hey!” he yells down the stairs. “We’re being attacked!”

  He can hear gunshots seemingly everywhere outside. No choice, I’ve gotta go below. Only problem is I’ll be trapped like a rat. He pulls his revolver, realizes he’s still holding the bottle of beer. He announces to no one in particular, “Fuck it, I’ll die with a gun in my right hand and a beer in my left.”

  No one answers.

  “But not just yet,” he says and goes down the stairs.

  197

  HE LEANS INTO THE CAR and gives the guy’s shoulder a shake. “Wake up Carlos, time to wake up!” No response. Unless you count blowing blood bubbles. Carlos’ mouth is pretty bloody. Maybe he kissed something when they crashed? Shrugs. “Okay, Carlos, stay here awhile and sleep it off. Just don’t sleep too long.” This last remark causes him to giggle.

  Dodd gathers up something he calls his duty bag and pulls the keys from the ignition. He locks and shuts the door. Carlos isn’t very safe with the big hole in the front window, but… I don’t own him. “No tengo amigos,” he says, giving another silly laugh.

  It’s still raining. While Dodd bent over into the car his ass got soaked. “I hope the showers are working.” He hurries back up the steps and finds Blake and another officer waiting for him in the doorway.

  “Oh, I know you,” says the officer standing with Blake. “You’re Dodd, the guy Talaski and Yates are always fucking with.”

  Dodd can’t make himself stop from leveling a murderous look at the guy. “Better watch your mouth,” he snarls, past caring about whether this is a challenge he’s up for or not.

  The other guy flinches a bit, clearly surprised by the ferocity of Dodd’s reaction. “Hey, listen, I didn’t mean anything by it. I hate Talaski. They say he’s up for detective and he’s only been here two years. I make one mistake and they blackball me. I’m stuck on patrol the rest of my career.”

  “Fair enough,” says Dodd. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Carl Dennis. I work with Sergeant Gransky quite a bit. Sometimes they let me help in the armory.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen you two around working events. I worked that damn BBQ fest last week. Nothing but drunks looking for trouble. I had to—”

  Blake waves a hand. “Please, can we go inside? I’m in bad shape and need to sit down.”

  198

  Dodd waves him on. “Sure thing Ace. Let’s get you inside and find someone to patch you up.”

  “Debbie’s on her way down,” says Dennis. “She’ll fix you right up. Just have a seat over there, okay?”

  True to his word, a door opens a few more feet down the hall near a card scanning device. Dodd recognizes the large breasted stout woman immediately as his neighbor Larry’s girlfriend. She is wearing a lowcut beige sweater and an ankle length brown skirt.

  Dodd calls out, “Could you leave the door open Debbie. We’ve got a wounded janitor here.”

  INCREDIBLY, THE GUY IN THE TRENCH COAT IS STILL ALIVE. The impact with the car threw him against a wall near the doors to Sears. From the angle of the guy’s shoulder, he can tell it is most certainly dislocated. He’s left a good portion of his face on the wall too, Mills notices. Still breathing, but messed up bad.

  I don’t help bad guys.

  “I remember this guy,” says Kathy. “He’s the leader of those Goths. They called him Webb or Webby.”

  “Let’s go, Kathy. We’ve got the keys now.”

  She turns toward him. “That was Sam in the car. Do you think—” “He’s dead. So’s Natalie. He never would have left her.” “Yeah, Sam’s dead and so is Natalie because of this piece of crap.

  Are we going to just leave him alive here?”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just hurry up and get to the engine.

  I’ll get you out of here and to someplace safe.”

  “Sounds fine. I’m pretty uptight right now. I need to find someplace

  to relax.” Her face is solemn, eyes serious.

  “Me too.” He realizes how much she has been through—How much

  all of them have been through and now it’s just the two of them. He

  extends his left hand toward her, gives her a devilish grin. She reaches

  199

  out without hesitation and smiles back up at him. Her slender fingers are cool and feel wonderful wrapped in his hand. They begin to jog across the parking lot, trying to keep their distance from the sprawled bodies and the often grisly sights. Two or three of the creatures are still wandering about, but they are too far away. Moments later, Mills helps boost Kathy up into the cab and settles behind the steering wheel.

  Kathy sits curled in the seat, one leg beneath the other, watching expectantly.

  He fits the key in the ignition, closes his eyes and pauses a moment while mumbling a prayer. “Here goes nothing.”

  The engine turns over and rumbles to life.

  “Ready to rumble?” he asks her. He turns on the headlights and shifts into drive.

  “At last something is going our way,” says Kathy.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he says and watches her puzzled look. “I think meeting you gave me a reason to make it this far.”

  She nods with a serious look. “Well, yeah, there is that.”

  They both laugh. She leans against his side.

  Maybe things will be all right. He peers into the growing dark.

  Maybe.

  T HE REFLECTED GLOW from what must be a massive fire provides light to what otherwise would be near pitch blackness. The massive bulk of the Vinoy Hotel complex looms over them to the left across Beach Drive. Talaski and Keller are crouching with pistols drawn behind the burned hulk of a Chevy van.

  “My whole life I’ve lived here and only been in that place once,” murmurs Keller.

  “The Vinoy?” asks Talaski. “Fancy place. Nice view from those penthouse suites overlooking the water.”

  200

  “How do you know?” asks Keller, suspicion in his voice. “No, don’t tell me…”

  Talaski grins widely. “You remember Bonnie, the brunette with the nice ass?”

  “Forget I asked,” says Keller. “Don’t tell me.”

  “She liked to hang onto the balcony rail while I…”

  Keller motions with his hand in cutting motion across his throat. “Listen!”

  From a distance there comes a strange sound: screams and cries of despair from hundreds of human throats. Along with it is a near continuous ripple of gunfire.

  “I bet it’s the people at the Pier,” says Talaski.

  “Could be. Guess we need to go find out?”

  At that moment, two cars whip by them, the second barely avoiding a crash into the van.

  “Wonder where they think they’re going?” says Keller.

  Talaski shrugs. “Not far.”

  A third car comes around the corner, but this one’s driver is more cautious. The car even slows when Talaski and Keller reveal themselves. The driver’s window rolls down as the car comes to a stop. “Nick you bastard—You still live!” says the driver.

  “Sounds like that Yates guy,” says Keller. Talaski nods.

  “Jock, is that you?” says Talaski.

  “Yeah, I barely escaped. More of those things than you can imagine overran our perimeter. I’m actually suspicious that it was abandoned by the soldiers and they left us with our asses hanging out.”

  “What do you mean?” asks Talaski, starting to lean into the window. Much of the car’s interior is in shadow, but there is a coppery reek…

  “Stay back Nick!” shouts Yates.

  Talaski straightens, shocked by his friend’s reaction. “What the hell Jock?”

  “I don’t know how long I have Nick. I didn�
�t really escape. They bit the shit out of me. I’m bleeding badly.”

  “Well, let us help you,” says Keller.

  “You can’t help me, Matt. It is Matt, right?”

  Keller nods.

  Talaski feels frozen.

  “I don’t know what happened to the rest of us. Patterson and I got separated. We should’ve just ran. I also heard a nasty rumor. They say the Army, the mayor and the city council knew what’s going on. That’s how they knew so early to grab that cruise boat.

  201

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “This Al Connor’s guy on the radio. He claimed he interviewed an Army Lieutenant named Champion who gave documented proof to him. Of course it was about this time that Patterson and I realized that the soldiers nearest to us in the perimeter were gone.”

  “Let’s us help you Jock—Maybe they just scratched you,” says Talaski.

  “No can do Nicky. You guys just need to get out of here. Maybe find a way onto one of those boats. I’m just gonna take a little scenic drive here.”

  “Okay Jock.”

  Yates doesn’t wait for more. He floors the gas pedal and speeds away.

  Talaski lets his shoulders slump. A tear slides down his cheek and into his day-old growth of beard. His face feels like it’s about to crack into a million tiny pieces. “I’m losing it Matt,” he hears himself say. “I can’t take much more.”

  Keller puts a hand on his shoulder.

  “I try hard not to let many people get close—but they do.”

  “I know man,” says Keller.

  “Most of the time all I feel is anger, sometimes hate. I can handle that. It’s this maudlin shit I can’t handle. Have you been thinking about how this is going to end for us, Matt? Ugly, plain and simple.”

  “If that’s true so be it. Meanwhile I’m going to make the best of this and keep trying. Despite your pessimism, I think you still have hope.”

  Talaski strives to keep a straight face. “Whatever you say Matt. Long as there’s a chance that I can find more ammo, I won’t give up.”

  G RAHAM LIFTS THE BIG PISTOL with both hands and stands with his knees slightly bent. Hold your breath, close the left eye, hold the sight steady. The dead doctor lurches toward him across the shadowed room. The sergeant appears in the doorway right behind him.