No doubt now. He lines up the faintly luminescent sight on the big man’s forehead.
Sweat rolls down from his hairline and onto his nose. A faint stinging sensation around his eyes adds to his frustration. I have to wipe my eyes. The urge is unbearable and Dodd backs up and around the corner, frantically rubbing his entire face onto the sleeves of his shirt.
He can hear footsteps following him from down there. No one should have to endure this type of insanity.
Suddenly, Gransky’s bulk heaves itself up onto the landing, still wearing the horrible grin. “Oh God, please save me, somebody…”
Dodd is barely aware of his own fixed grimace and the single-minded concentration he puts into aiming between the thing’s eyes. He squints, squeezes the trigger and winces at the sharp bark of the shot and the bright yellow flash from the barrel.
Gransky’s head jerks to the left, as if slapped, and the rest of his body follows the motion. In a state of shock and disbelief, Dodd watches the body tumble down the stairs, taking the other guy with him.
258
ANGER AND GRIEF are doing terrible things to the boy’s face. “What if my Mom and Dad swam over to the cruise ship? How do you know what happened to them?”
“Even your sister thinks they’re dead, Frank. You calling her a liar?” Frank closes his eyes a moment, almost as if he’s trying to be patient. “She doesn’t know any more than you do, boy.” Beth stands up and throws a punch at Frank. He dodges it easily and holds her back seemingly without effort.
“So what will you do, Frank? You gonna just jump overboard and swim over there?”
“No, we’ll take the raft on that guy’s boat.”
“Someone will catch you, Frank,” declares Beth.
“I’ll swim over there if I have to, Beth.”
“If anybody was alive on that boat, we would’ve heard from them by now,” says Daric.
“Maybe, maybe not. They may not want anyone else and they’re just waiting for us to go away. They might need me.”
“Okay, we haven’t even really been on this other boat yet, why don’t we go on over and check it out. Until we see the real situation, this is all just crazy talk.”
“You’re smarter than you look… Daric,” Frank says, grinning at him.
“You aren’t,” Daric replies back. “You’re dumb as a rock.”
“Keep pushing me and see what happens.”
Daric doesn’t want to back down, but decides to. What can this boy do all on his own anyway?
With a look of desperation, Beth speaks up. “Why don’t we go see this puppy Janicea told us about? I need a doggie right now.”
“Sounds good to me,” says Daric, but he’s really not so sure. I can’t ever tell anybody what my mom did to my dogs. He can feel hot tears well at the edge of his eyes, but somehow manages to hold them back.
259
Ozzie is the only one still on the motor boat with them. He’s sorting through some boxes when they come up out of the cabin. Daric can see the others sitting on the fantail of the other boat as if this were normal times.
“You kids going over to see the pup? He’s a real cutie,” Ozzie says, but he doesn’t seem to really expect an answer. He just keeps working.
Frank goes first, sliding over the railing, bracing himself, then sliding over into the other boat on his butt. “Come on Beth, I’ll help you over.”
Beth takes her brother’s hand and slides over easily. To Daric’s surprise, he helps him also. All three of them are standing about midship, so they start toward the back. They can hear the adults’ voices already.
Bronte’s voice says, “I don’t care how much of what we need’s on that ship. It’ll be a death trap by now. And another thing: How do we know that those soldiers won’t be back tomorrow to finish the job?”
Tracks voice follows, “Bronte right. We need to hide. Weedon Island sound perfect with all those mangroves.”
“We don’t know if there is a good place to hide a boat,” says someone with a raspy voice. Must be the PoPo. He swallowed a lot of seawater. “But I vote for Weedon Isle too. What about you Janice?”
Daric misses whatever her answer was, because at that moment, Frank walks down the stair that leads down there and interrupts everyone. Beth pushes in beside Frank and Daric is left still standing on the steps. He can still see, but can’t move past the other two.
“Well hello there,” says a big, stocky blonde guy with broad shoulders. Got a gut too. Must be the new guy who offered to help them. “I’m Graham.”
He looks like a nice guy anyway. Not as old as that PoPo, but at least as old as Tracks.
Graham holds out a hand to Frank, but Frank doesn’t take it. A little alarm goes off in Daric’s head, but Beth steps forward and takes Graham’s hand instead. “I’m Beth, this is my brother Frank, and I don’t think you’ve met Daric.”
Daric looks down and sees Frank’s hand behind his back and under his shirt. What’s he doing? But Graham is shaking Daric’s hand now, over the shoulder of Frank.
Graham’s fingers tighten on his, going from a gentle shake to a tight grip.
“Get offa me mister and step back or I’ll pull the trigger.”
Where’d Frank get a gun?
Graham lets go of Daric’s hand and steps back. His kind face is gone and an ugly, squint-eyed scowl has replaced it.
260
“Better have a good reason to pull a gun on me boy.” Beth shouts, “Frank no! These people are good! They’ll help us!” Frank looks around, almost as if measuring the shocked adults
around him. Daric can see the ugly little automatic pistol in his hand. That’s what this boy is, ugly and little. “Get away from me Beth. I’m not going to Weedon Isle. I’m going to look for my father.”
The fat PoPo sits up straight in his chair and speaks up. “You’re Lionel Burgosi’s kid, I remember you in the galley.”
“Yeah, that’s me Mister.”
“Listen kid, I’m sure he’s dead, I—”
“Shut up! Shut up or you’re the one who’ll be dead!” Frank shouts.
Tracks steps forward. “What you want little boy?”
“I’m taking care of my family! My Dad always told me to be ready. Someday I’d have to be a man. I want to find my father!”
“He’s floating out there in little chunks, kid,” says the PoPo.
Frank screams. “No he’s not! He’s in that ship I bet! I want to go look for him there!”
“He dead boy. Why he be on that ship?” asks Tracks.
“He’s looking for us! For Beth and me!”
“We all lost people in the last day. You not alone.”
Frank motions with the gun. “Either give me this raft or take me over there. Then leave if you want. I have to know.”
He’s bigger than me, but from behind, I’ll have the advantage. I’ll knock him down and pin the hand holding the gun beneath him. He can hear his Dad’s voice: ‘Once you have a plan, don’t think about it, son—Do it! Emergencies can’t wait.’
Daric throws his arms wide and leaps on the bigger kid’s back and literally rides him to the ground. Someone shouts, “Daric no!” and for a frozen moment or two, Daric struggles all alone against a writhing, griefstricken monster.
Then there are a series of muffled pops.
261
T HEY BARELY HAD TIME to pull the soldier’s corpse behind one of the vans, when suddenly all four soldiers came running back around the corner. The leader started shouting when he saw that the body was gone, but shortly thereafter the helicopter arrived.
Watching the helicopter come in and pick up the four men was tough. Especially knowing how badly Mills wanted to avenge Kathy’s murder.
I’m all suited up like a modern day gladiator at least . I must look more than a little ridiculous with shorts and a ripped shirt though. She pictures a late night commercial: Strippers Gone Wild, and has to choke back a laugh.
Mills watched them with a look that could
only be described as intense hatred.
When the helicopter took off and headed east, she heard him murmur, “Sorry Kathy. I’ll get them somehow.”
“I am a little curious,” she says, and purposely trails off, hoping to distract him. She stands up and starts to walk toward the front of the van.
“Curious about what?” he asks, and follows her up, bracing himself on the side of the van.
“Who the hell these van people are, and why were they driving so fast? Might as well check them out? They might have something good in there.”
“Okay, but be ready. Those soldiers shot the hell out of them, but they might not—”
“Okay,” she answers, watching him heft his bat.
They both go around to the front, and she finds herself almost mesmerized by all the bullet holes. The glass of both doors, driver and passenger, are shattered, as is the windshield. It’s still too dark outside to see anything else.
262
Mills turns on his flashlight and shines it inside the cab. Two figures are still seated, complete with fastened seatbelts up front. Both of them appear to be wearing the dark blue coverall jumpsuits of the City Motor Pool.
She watches Mills rub his eyes, then glance in. “I think I recognize the driver,” he says, “His name’s Larry.”
“Well Larry and his buddy there look like pincushions.”
“Yeah, at least it must’ve been quick. This was the second truck— Right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I think so. The first truck made it further.”
“I’m going to try the back door. Whether one is there or not, I’ll just jump to the side, so you can let them have it. Are you sure you know how to handle that cannon?”
She grins. “Safety is already off, and the bolt is forward. We’re ready to rock.”
Mills grabs the handle for the sliding door, and without hesitating yanks it open with a quick jerk to the right, then left. He backs out of the way, once again shining his flashlight into the van. Another guy, a Hispanic, is back there, but this one is still alive. A chest wound is still oozing blood. The guy is wearing a blue jeans jacket and pants. His head is down on his chest and he’s sitting up on the floor of the van with his back to a large wooden case and a lot of ammo boxes.
“You got any medical training?” she asks.
“Just very basic stuff. They’d like us to all be ALS, but I’m not even BLS certified yet.”
“What’s ALS and—”
“Advanced Life Support and Basic Life Support.”
“So this guy is fucked?”
“If you want to be blunt, yes. We can’t do anything for him, except maybe give him an angel as his last sight before he goes.”
“What do you mean angel… Me? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Then the merciful thing to do would be to shoot him.”
Someone coughs behind them and they both jump.
“Bad answer Sparky,” a man says in a mild voice. “Don’t move.”
“Sparky and the Angel,” says a woman. “I like that. Sounds like a great children’s book.”
263
“I’ VE SHUT DOWN EVERYTHING except the keycard entry for doors,” Anton says, leaning back, raising a warm can of RC to his lips and chugging. Blake watches the pale, stubbly skin of the man’s neck as the big man downs the soda in a matter of a few swallows. He notices the rings of sweat beneath the man’s arms and the front of his nearly unbuttoned shirt. A jungle of matted, coarse, curly black hairs protrude out over his collar.
Amy is fanning herself with a magazine. “Hot in here,” she says, her voice flat as if she’s been drained of energy.
Debbie shoves the last bite of a glazed donut into her mouth with enthusiasm. Blake watches her licking her fingers and thinks about her touching things, door handles and god knows what else. In fairness to her there is no faucet in here.
If any of them starts picking their nose…
“How much longer do we wait?” Anton wants to know.
“I wish we knew whether they made it inside,” says Debbie.
Anton frowns. “Well, unless one of you is willing to go down to the basement and fill the gas tank for the generator, we’ll continue to be blind and ignorant.”
There is silence for a moment until Anton flips his ID badge toward Blake like a playing card onto the table between them. He picks it up and looks it over. Something makes him look up and at those around him.
All eyes are turned toward Blake. Wait a moment this is too much! “Whoa there! Why is everyone looking at me?”
“I can’t get down the stairs, Martin,” says Anton. “It makes me feel useless.”
“Can’t anyone get my name right?!” Blake shouts. “You ask me to put my ass on the line and you don’t even respect me enough to get my name right. It’s getting old.”
264
Debbie puts a hand to her temple, almost as if she’s giving herself a brain scan to dredge up the information.
“My name is Morgan, Morgan Blake. What’s so hard about that?”
Debbie tries to smile and reaches a hand toward his. Blake yanks it back out of range. “Don’t make it worse, Debbie. I’ll go down there.”
“Don’t Morgan!”
He is on his feet, pistol in hand, anger driving him, fueling a second adrenaline surge. Debbie trails him, but is far too slow to catch him before he reaches the door and closes it behind him. Muted shouting follows him as he sprints to the staircase and inserts a badge.
The hall is deserted. He’d almost expected to find Dodd waiting for him.
First things first. Make sure the damn safety is off on this pistol. He takes a moment, discovers there isn’t a little switch. Then he mutters to himself, “Now, lets try that thing they do in the movies.” The top half of the pistol, the barrel part, does slide back and a bullet comes popping out.
“He did have it loaded.”
He spends the next couple minutes discovering how to eject the magazine and reload the gun.
“Okay Dodd, I’m ready for you now.”
The stairwell is close by. No way to know where Dodd is, so it’s better to just get to it and get the power back on. He slides the card through the slot, opens the door and after listening for a moment or two, he begins the descent.
Halfway down, all the aches in his body begin to return and his level of paranoia increases to the point where he stands still for minutes at a time, just listening.
Between the first and second floor, the sound of muffled gunfire brings him to a complete stop.
265
THE MURMUR OF THE ENGINE is a distant comforting roar, evidence that they are heading for a safe place. The room is in darkness, except what feeble light is reflected in through the windows.
“That was terrible Janice,” he hears himself say into her soft mane of hair, lips close to her ear.
“That boy was crazy. How could anybody know he’d draw a gun?” She holds him tight for a moment, then backs away just enough to look him in the eyes. “It’s not your fault Bronte.”
“The little girl, Beth, is broke up. When the boy passed, I had to move quick to—”
“I know Bronte. She’s sleeping in the other cabin now. Tracks is watching over her and Daric.”
“That’s good. We need so many things if we’re going to survive this. We don’t even have a doctor! I guess the boy would have died anyway, but maybe not.”
“Why don’t you talk to the PoPo, maybe he knows what we should do?”
He is looking back into her eyes. “The old Janice would never have said that. Are you for real? Is that you, Janice, or is this a new lie?”
“I’ve done some terrible things, Bronte. All people need each other. Worse than ever right now. I turned away from God for so long. I turned away from life. You helped bring me back.”
He grins at her. “So, I guess you owe me?”
She laughs, but doesn’t fight him off when he kisses her cheek, her lips, then the ear that is so c
lose. After a moment or two, of increasingly frenzied caressing, she pulls him backwards onto the bed with her.
“Janicea, I…”
“Shhh, no more talk.”
266
“MOTHER OF GOD!” Talaski shouts in horror when the door opens. The dead literally spill out and toward him while he frantically backs up, swinging the ASP.
“What’s wrong Nick?” Keller wants to know, but doesn’t dare to look. He too is preoccupied with a large number of the dead trying to get to them.
He gets no answer for a few long seconds as Talaski hammers at the hands and arms of the creatures reaching for him.
Brute strength. The ugly sound of metal hitting soft, rotting flesh. Harsh breathing from the both of them.
“This is the crowd from Tropicana Field; it has to be,” Keller wheezes.
“The room is loaded with them, almost as if they knew we were going to open that door,” says Talaski.
“Should we… Run?” asks Keller.
“Never make it,” Talaski replies. “Too many.”
Two zombies come at him at once. One older, a beefy weightlifter type wearing slacks and a polo shirt with the name of a restaurant on it. A nametag is still clipped to his shirt collar. The other is a tall slender woman wearing a pale blue men’s dress shirt. The woman goes straight for his throat, hands grasping, and he loses the other one briefly as he slashes through one of her arms and clubs her across the temple. She drops and he feels something crash into his side and he collides with Keller, stumbling backwards out of control.
Everything degenerates from that point. The big zombie has a grip around his waist and pulls him to the ground. His head slams painfully against the concrete. Is that gunfire and people screaming some kind of war cry? The ASP is lost, but he manages to pull the gun. He can barely see through stinging sweat. Something rips at his shirt and gets stopped by the vest before reaching his skin.
He swings the gun down like a club at the zombie’s head and to his shock the guy’s hair falls off.
267
Toupee!
A half circle of oily hair is revealed halfway up his scalp from his forehead. Talaski grabs what there is and forces the guy’s head back. He aims the gun right between the eyes and pulls the trigger.
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