Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles - Vol. 2

by Damon Novak

  “Where’s the bar?” I asked, takin’ a drink.

  Danny laughed again, a deep, sincere sound. “Down ZomGator Road.”

  “You with me?” I asked.

  “Nope. You’re alone.”

  “Where’s Georgie?”

  “At the bar.”

  “I start marchin’ toward that goddamned gator and he better move his ass, or I’ll eat him.”

  “You so fulla shit.”

  “I know,” I said, my mind workin’. “Hey, if only a couple hundred folks lived there before the shit hit the fan, food’s gonna get tight in that town. Might be smart to keep an eye out for a big supermarket on the way. See if there’s an unloaded container on the loadin’ dock or somethin’.”

  “We’d be awfully welcome, bringin’ that sucker in with us.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Goodwill can go a long way. Considerin’ we’re bringin’ a piece of work like Garland with us.”

  “We takin’ his ass the whole way?”

  “He’s welcome to leave, but for some reason, I’m thinkin’ he’s gonna opt to stay.”

  “Let’s get to bed. Don’t forget to tell everyone about that Micky dude.”

  “Damn,” I said, standin’ and cappin’ the bottle of Jack. “Why do I get all the responsibility?”

  “White privilege.”

  I laughed, flipped him off, and felt my way down stairs.

  When we got to the bottom and turned toward the salon door, we heard, “Y’all leavin’ me here all night?”

  I jerked my head to the left. I had forgotten we left Garland cable tied to the rail.

  I was too mellowed from the Jack to give a shit. “Yeah,” I said. “You should be ready to join civilization tomorrow. If you ain’t, we toss you over.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, but didn’t say any more.

  I went to bed, stripped down, and slid in beside Georgie.

  Her arms slipped around me and that’s the last thing I remember.

  Ω

  I felt the bed shakin’ and fought openin’ my eyes, ‘cause the damned mornin’ came too soon and I wasn’t ready for it.

  My eyes stung, my mouth was sticky, and my whole head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I dragged myself out of bed anyway.

  I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face before draggin’ my ass up to the flybridge. It was deserted.

  I wanted an early start, because we needed to get our asses to Port Arthur and get on the drive north through Texas. I didn’t want to miss joinin’ Rode’s caravan to northern California, and at our current pace, I was sure he’d be long gone before we got there.

  Not sure why I was so damned eager to go. Maybe because I wanted to debunk Wattana as the cause of this shit. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I suspected he was a fool, and it was really the goddamned planet tellin’ us it’d had its fill of humanity, and our time was up.

  I tried to focus through my fog. We were about a mile offshore, and I trusted somebody would bring me coffee, so I pulled anchor, fired the engines, and kept my eyes on the depth finder.

  I pushed that yacht up to right around 24 knots and left it there. The mornin’ was calm and the light swells that swept beneath the big boat could barely be felt.

  I finally lost my patience and was about to run down to get some coffee when I saw a blonde head comin’ up the steps and smelled the brew.

  “Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” asked Georgie, a big smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”

  She passed me a mug of coffee. I didn’t even answer. I just drank and raised my eyebrows.

  “How long until we get there?”

  “Goddamned thirteen hours or so at this speed. It’s about as fast as we can go, though.”

  “Some hurricanes move slower than that,” she mused. “They always seem to get where they’re going.”

  I sipped my coffee, savored it in my mouth, and swallowed. “That’s us. I’m officially changin’ the name of this boat to Hurricane Georgie.”

  “Does it have a name? I didn’t notice it.”

  “It does.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Monaco Skiff.”

  Georgie looked confused. She shrugged. “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m thinkin’ this is a small boat in a place like Monaco.”

  “Better than the Sea Ray,” she said, smilin’. “So, Hurricane Georgie, huh? What time is it?”

  I checked my watch. “Jesus. 7:40.”

  “So if we don’t stop, we’ll be there by sunset.”

  “Goddamnit,” I said, realizin’ she was right. “That means another full day drivin’ tomorrow, and that’s if all goes well.”

  “I think I’ll just be glad to get back on land,” she said. “It’s nice being away from those things, but I get antsy out here this long.”

  “Much as I love the swamp, I prefer dry land, too,” I said. “When’s breakfast?”

  Before she answered, Terry stuck his head into view. “I’m making pancakes, so who’s up for some?”

  I raised my hand. “Tall stack, bud. Impeccable timin’, by the way.”

  He pointed down the steps and asked, “Are we untying that man today?”

  I laughed. “Damn. I walked right by his ass on my way up here and didn’t even notice him. The shit you can get used to.”

  I grabbed the intercom microphone and pushed the button. “Danny, you up yet?”

  A few seconds later, I heard him come back, “For a while now. We’re just layin’ in bed, watchin’ the world go by. What you need, man?”

  Now that I knew he was in his cabin, I found the button for direct communication and pushed it. “Take the helm inside for a bit, would ya? I gotta go deal with our criminal captive.”

  “Sure you don’t need help?”

  “I’m good. Terry’s makin’ pancakes, too, so you and Lilly should stop whatever lewd shit you’re up to and get some before they’re gone.”

  “You’re a dick, CB,” said Lilly, and I laughed. Danny said, “Okay, give me five.”

  About three minutes later, Danny’s voice came over the intercom. “Okay, switchin’ control now, CB.”

  I sat back, made sure he really had it, then trotted down the steps. I sipped my coffee while Garland snored, still sound asleep. His arms were raised because of the zip ties still lashin’ him to the railin’. I kicked him in the leg as I pulled out a pocketknife.

  “Damn, I’m sore,” he said. “And I gotta take a piss.”

  “You sleep like a goddamned baby,” I said.

  “Figured y’all weren’t gonna kill me. Even after the punch.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I said, “You hit me first. Anyway, I think you mighta learned your lesson.” I glanced up at Terry with a wink.

  Terry eyed Garland nervously and said, “Keep an eye on him, would you? I don’t trust him.”

  Garland eyed him but said nothin’.

  “Danny and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get outta line,” I said. “Or over the rail he goes.”

  “I promise,” he said. “I had me a moment, that’s all.”

  “That moment passed? ‘Cause it seemed to go on an awful long time.”

  “Definitely passed,” he said, holdin’ his wrists up to me.

  I leaned forward and cut the zip ties. “Stick your legs out.” He did, and I sliced through the zip ties and put the knife away. “When was your last shower?”

  “I went in the ocean yesterday. You saw it.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t remember.”

  “Your next one’s right now. You ain’t sittin’ down for pancakes with us smellin’ like you do.” I held my hand out and he took it. I pulled him up. “Go that way,” I said, slipping the .45 from my holster. “I’m right behind you.”

  He walked a little stiff-like where I’d pointed, and I directed him to the bathroom. “Towels inside, and there’s an electric razor you can use if you
want to. Use shampoo and soap. Plenty of water so don’t rush.”

  “I appreciate it,” he said. “Like I said, I went a little crazy on shore. Kinda got the feelin’ everyone was out to get me. Figured I’d get them first.”

  “I know that feelin’,” I said. “How much did Billie Jo have to do with that?”

  “You seen her. Had her hooks in me.”

  “Yeah, she was kinda hot for a crazy chick.”

  “I mighta been showin’ off. I sure was when I made that harness for Chester, but I’ll admit, it was fun.”

  “You kill anyone?” I asked.

  His eyes shifted to the floor, then to the right. When they came back to me, he said, “Billy Jo did. Two people I told her weren’t zombies.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He shook his head. “I kinda don’t want to.”

  “That wasn’t a request. You want to stay on this boat with us, spill it.”

  “You mind?” he asked, turnin’ away from the door and unzippin’ his fly as he stepped toward the toilet. I turned sideways as he started to pee and tell me the story at the same time.

  “About a week ago, we were walkin’ down some road, a few miles from that gun shop you found us at. We came across a woman and a boy in the middle of the street.”

  “Zombies?”

  “No. Just a lady and, I guess, her kid.”

  I knew in my head it could’ve been anyone’s kid; she may have come across him alone and offered to take care of him.

  He peed for so long I almost checked my watch and sent up a flare for the Guinness Book of World Records verification team.

  “Keep goin’.”

  “Well, we kinda came around a corner and I had Chester by that time. The minute we saw ‘em, BJ grabbed that rod and pulled open his blinder. Fucker took off so fast, I lost hold of the chain. The lady and her boy started runnin’, tryin’ to get to an old Jeep parked cattycorner off the curb.”

  “They get there in time?”

  He nodded, zippin’ up his pants. “Yeah, they got inside. Made a mistake, though.”

  “What was that?” I thought I knew.

  “What was what?”

  “The mistake they made.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “They didn’t lock the door.”

  I nodded and stared into his eyes, gaugin’ him. “I don’t know why she was so fascinated by that gator. I think she felt like some kinda Xena Warrior Princess or somethin’, with a goddamned dragon.”

  “So what happened?”

  He stared at me, as though afraid to say. “Billie Jo ran after Chester, but he was focused on the Jeep. When she came up behind him, she used the rod to knock his blinders down again. Once he settled, Billie Jo yanked their door open. Chester was just layin’ there facin’ the car, and I could hear the lady screamin’, beggin’ for their lives.”

  I thought I knew the rest, but I had to hear it anyway.

  “I stayed where I was, hopin’ she’d just laugh, satisfied with scarin’ ‘em. That’s when I first figured out she was crazier than I thought. It was like she forgot I was there. Then I yelled at her to just leave ‘em, ‘cause they weren’t hurtin’ us, but Billie Jo just reached down with that rod and pulled Chester’s blinders up again. He let out this weird croak and jumped in that damn Jeep so fast I couldn’t believe it.”

  My mind went to Sonya. Seein’ her torn apart by those damned zombie gators had been the hardest thing to see since my brothers. Way more graphic. This was even worse.

  His eyes were kinda far away at that point in his story. He said, “I was still a buncha yards back when I saw her do it. I took off runnin’ toward the Jeep, but Chester was deep inside by the time I got there. His goddamned tail was whippin’ left and right while he tore them up, and there wasn’t nothin’ I could do. Couldn’t even get close to it. Blood was spurtin’ all over the windows, and I knew it was over. I just doubled over and lost my lunch.”

  Now. I’m a good judge of character, and an even better judge of a liar. I honestly don’t think anything he said was bullshit.

  “Okay,” I said. “Had to be hard to watch.”

  He looked at me, sheepishly. “That’s why I was so damned tired. Since she did that, I’ve been afraid she’d kill me in my sleep. Slept with one eye open.”

  You should’ve beat her to it, I thought.

  “Alright. Go ahead and get cleaned up.”

  He nodded and closed the door. The second I heard the water go on, I hurried down to the galley and snagged a plate of pancakes, wolfin’ ‘em down. When Garland finally came out about fifteen minutes later, I almost didn’t recognize him.

  The dude was actually not a bad lookin’ guy. His hair wasn’t ratty anymore, and he’d shaved, like I suggested. While his eyes were a tad shifty, he looked a helluva lot more trustworthy than before.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

  “Feel like somebody else now, that’s for sure,” he said, rubbin’ his wet hair with his hand.

  “How’s the eye?” I asked.

  He touched it gingerly with his fingers. “Tender. I’ll live.”

  “Hungry?” I sipped my coffee.

  “Hell yeah,” he said. “Coffee sounds good, too.”

  “Follow me.”

  I went back down to the salon, which was enormous. Nice as it was, I was ready to be outta there and on to our destination. Danny was up a few steps from us, drivin’ from the interior helm.

  Everybody was there, and I was surprised when Garland held up his hand and said, “Hey, y’all. Can I get your attention for a sec?”

  Danny must’ve heard it, ‘cause he came down the steps a couple seconds later, sayin’, “Autopilot for a bit. Wide open out there.”

  “Thanks,” said Garland. “Anyway, I had a talk with CB here. Tried to explain about what I did. I got no excuses. Not bein’ a real ladies man, when Billie Jo took a likin’ to me, I tried to overlook the fact that she was batshit crazy. Seemed almost like a benefit with all this crazy zombie shit goin’ on.”

  “Like your own pit bull,” said Roxy, whose hair was also wet from a morning shower.

  “Exactly. Anyway, my last name’s Hunter, and I just wanna tell you I’ll do what I can to make it up to y’all.”

  “You’re gonna be on probation a while,” said Danny. “Everyone watchin, and no weapons for you.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.” He turned to me. “Y’all are headed somewhere in Kansas, right?”

  “Lebanon.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Billie Jo thought y’all were headin’ to the Middle East.”

  Everybody laughed, and the memory made me chuckle, too.

  “We’ll tell you the story as we know it,” I said. “One job you can do is man the ham radio. Let us know if you hear from a dude named Micky Rode. He’s the guy orchestratin’ the whole thing.”

  “Ain’t he a classic rock DJ?” asked Garland.

  “You heard of him?” I asked.

  “Syndicated, I guess. Only station I listened to. Cool dude.”

  “Then you’ll know who to listen for. Eat some pancakes. We’ll tell you the plan as it stands now.”

  When we were done, we assigned Garland Hunter the task of cleanin’ the galley. He didn’t complain.

  Ω

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Magi Silver Bolt

  Henomawi Indian Reservation

  It was a strange feeling, walking down streets, deserted except for skinwalkers.

  The rifle scabbard with the Winchester .30-30 on his back, Magi had searched Anjeni’s home, but there was no sign she’d gone there before seeking out others in need of help. Her phone was gone as well, which made sense, based on her last text. She never went anywhere without it.

  Pulling out his own phone, he started a text. He wrote, simply, ‘ANJI. WHERE ARE YOU?’

  The readout showed the word SENDING, then after a second or two, DELIVERED. The word READ never appeared.

  Frustrated, he slid the ph
one back in his pocket. He peered through the window to see several skinwalkers roaming in the street beyond, but that didn’t concern him any longer.

  Magi opened the door of Dancing Rain’s home, picked up the cooler containing the skin paste, and stepped onto the front porch, closing it behind him with an extra hard pull. If she were to come back here, he could not let his negligence allow a skinwalker to make its way into her house, surprising her.

  Walking slowly down the path leading to the street, Magi stepped off the curb and looked around him. He had to find her; give her the mixture to put on her body. It would keep her safe until they could either work with Mundunugu to reverse the horrible thing he had done, or escape to somewhere safe.

  Somewhere isolated.

  But he had gone through the ancient text. There was no way to stop it that he could find; no ceremonies, incantations or potions that would cause the Great Spirit to save the changed people. If something had the power to lift these tortured souls from the hell into which they had fallen, it remained a mystery.

  There have to be millions of them, thought Magi. Perhaps billions. How far away did the black rain fall? How many lives were destroyed?

  The worst thought occurred to him: How many monsters walk the earth?

  Walking across the street, he stepped on the sidewalk and stayed close to the overgrown hedge that ran alongside it. No sense in attracting attention.

  Magi needed to stop by the home of his friend, Atian. It was between Anjeni’s house and Chief Wattana’s, so it wouldn’t lead him off his planned course.

  If he wasn’t there, perhaps Anjeni had stopped and they both went to see Mundunugu together.

  He turned up the walk, toward the bright blue home with pale yellow shutters. The pots on the porch, once containing brightly blooming flowers, were now obscured by the dead stems and leaves that draped over them like shrouds.

  Everything had changed. Death was everywhere.

  Stepping onto the porch, he put down the cooler and reached for the doorknocker, but stopped, looking behind him.