He kicked her away as another wave crashed, the surge sending the both of them crashing against Billy Blake’s metal gate. He splashed around in the water, his hands frantically searching for his gun.
The rush of water had rolled the young woman so that she was facing away from Holbrook. The back of her wet shirt read ‘Zombie Patrol.’ He took the opportunity to try and scramble away from her, but another surge of surf sent a heavy decorative flower pot across his path, crashing into Billy’s gate and crushing it inward.
The young woman was thrown up against the metal gate. She saw Holbrook, her eyes wide with rage, her mascara running. She looked like a monster.
Holbrook saw his gun just inside Billy’s store. He reached underneath the bent-in gate as she splashed in the water, struggling to get him.
His fingertips touched the barrel of his gun, pushing it farther into the store. He felt fingers grabbing his legs, and he kicked wildly, pushing the woman away.
He looked over his shoulder as he saw Joann dragging Gary over, the water helping her move him. She let go of Gary and grabbed the young woman’s ankles, pulling her away from Holbrook.
There was another crash of a wave, and Joann lost her footing as water took her legs out. She and Gary slid toward the bent in gate, where Holbrook lay kicking, trying to get to his feet.
Joann reached out and pulled at the woman’s blouse as she lunged at Holbrook. Gary was yelling something, but the storm was drowning him out. Holbrook saw the other maniacs flailing about on the boardwalk, knocked down by the raging surf.
The young woman with the black eyes turned around and reached out for Joann as Holbrook kicked the assailant in the head. The bench that took Holbrook out before came crashing into the woman, pushing her underneath the bent-in gate and into Billy’s store.
Holbrook got to his knees as Joann crawled over to him. “Are you all right, Jim?” she shouted over the wind.
“Yeah. Thanks. That was close.”
Holbrook looked around Joann and saw Gary, who was pale and looked like hammered shit, but gave him a thumbs up.
There was another crash as Gary and Joann braced themselves against the metal gate. The rush of water swept Gary right under the bent-in gate and into Billy’s store.
The whole thing had happened so quickly that the horror of what had happened took a minute to register on Holbrook and Joann.
They heard Gary screaming inside.
Holbrook pulled Joann close. He grabbed her gun from her. “Watch my back!” he shouted into her face.
She nodded as he went down on the boardwalk and slid himself in a commando crawl under the gate. She produced her baton and extended it with the flick of her wrist as she took in the bedlam all around her.
Inside the store, Holbrook saw the woman biting into Gary’s neck as he convulsed on the floor. Clothing racks were toppled and thrown all over, and water was everywhere.
Holbrook took aim at the woman’s head as she crouched in front of Gary, chewing on his flesh, blood running down her chin and the front of her blouse. Gary screamed silently as he lay there helpless, a rack of short shorts reading ‘Succulent’ on the backs falling across his chest.
Another rush of water swept Holbrook farther into the store and right at the girl. She reached out for him, still chewing, as he shot her through her left eye socket, blowing her brains out the back of her head.
She fell limp over Gary’s body as Holbrook washed up against them. He grabbed his fallen officer and pulled himself over his friend. He rolled the inert woman’s body off and gazed into his friend’s wide eyes. He lay there completely still, blood still spurting out of the mortal wound on his neck.
Holbrook buried his face into Gary’s soaked shirt, crying. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t have been happening.
Holbrook looked up when he heard gunfire outside the store. He saw Joann’s face appear under the gate. “Are you all right?”
“Gary’s dead!”
Another rush of water flowed into the store, and Holbrook felt Gary’s body move under the current. He wiped his eyes and looked at his friend.
Gary was looking at him.
Holbrook froze as he gazed into Gary’s wild eyes. Gary screamed as he reached out for him. He sat up and grabbed Holbrook, pulling him close. He opened his jaws.
Holbrook pulled his right arm, his hand still clutching Joann’s gun, out of the water and jammed the gun inside Gary’s mouth.
Gary bit down on the metal, and Holbrook pulled the trigger.
***
Three Weeks Prior
Vinnie came out of the shower feeling like a new man. He threw on his Marco’s Pizza tee-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and a pair of cargo shorts.
He barreled into the kitchen to find his father pouring a bowl of cereal. “You want some of this?”
“No thanks. I’m meeting Mike at the Breakfast Shoppe.”
“Oh, right. It’s Friday. You were out late last night.”
“I was out with a girl. Then I ran into Billy Blake and we shot a game of pool.”
“Was it that girl from the Sunglass Hut?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“She’s had her eye on you all summer.”
“God, am I the only one who didn’t know this?”
“Apparently. She a nice girl?”
“She’s cool. We had a great time.” He remembered her warm mouth on his.
“So, how’s Billy doing?”
“Okay, I guess. He whopped me good on the table.”
“Yeah, he was always a shark.”
“Dad, why does Chief Holbrook hate Billy so much?”
Marco hesitated. It was the first time his son noticed the tension between the two men, or at least the first time he talked about it anyway. He figured Vinnie was old enough to hear about it.
“Billy messed around with Chief Holbrook’s wife once, or at least that was the way it appeared. He walked in on Billy trying to kiss her. She swore he told him no and was trying to get away from him.”
“Holy smokes.”
“Yeah. Chief Holbrook broke Billy’s nose and almost lost his badge over it. The whole thing almost destroyed his marriage.”
“Can’t blame him. Dad, why are you friends with Billy, anyway?”
“We grew up together. He’s really not a bad guy.” Vinnie arched a dubious eyebrow. “He’s just bad company around women.”
“Sounds like it. I’ll catch you later.”
“Okay. Tell Mike I said hi.”
Vinnie left the house and walked down Ocean Avenue. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, and he immediately began to sweat. So much for the shower.
He checked the outdoor patio of the Breakfast Shoppe, but it was empty. He opened the front door and was greeted by cool air as he entered. He saw Mike sitting in a booth looking at the menu.
Mike looked up and waved him over. Vinnie sat in the booth across from him and smiled. “Why do you always look at the menu? You always get the same thing.”
“Force of habit, I guess.”
Justine shuffled over to the table with her pen behind her ear. She took her order pad out of her apron pocket and the pen from behind her ear. “Hey, guys. What’re you all having?”
Vinnie gestured to Mike. “Age before beauty.”
Mike raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have a toasted bran muffin with a side of butter. And a cup of coffee.”
“You got it,” said Justine writing it down. “How about you, hon?”
“Two sunny-side up eggs, corned beef hash, and buttered white toast. And a coffee too, please.”
“Milk or half-and-half?”
“Milk.”
“Milk.”
“Comin’ right up.”
“Jesus,” said Mike. “I remembered when I used to be able to eat like that. You’d better be careful or you’ll become a fat old man like me.”
Vinnie chuckled. The large, antiquated wall unit was cranking out cool air, the white noise drowned
out by Twisted Sister on the sound system (which consisted of a CD player and two small speakers on either side of the small shop).
Mike arched his eyebrow again. “You look tired. Been out late?”
Vinnie grinned. “As a matter of fact, I was.”
“Did you run into that sweet young girl?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
Mike, intrigued, leaned forward. “All right, spill it.”
Justine came by and slid two cups of coffee on the table. She grabbed a handful of little milk creamers and dumped them on the table between Mike and Vinnie.
Vinnie waited for her to shuffle off again. “I met her at the club. I almost made a complete ass of myself.”
Mike laughed. “Hey, that’s how I met my wife. Hell, I think that’s how all guys meet their wives.”
“Well, she wanted to get out of there so we went to the boardwalk.”
“Smart girl. Those clubs are no good, especially for kids…people your age. The boardwalk’s loads more fun, anyway.”
“We…we had a great night.”
“Did you kiss her goodnight?”
“She kissed me, actually.”
Mike clapped his hands and slapped the table. “Hot damn! It’s about time.”
“That’s what everyone’s been saying. How’d I miss the signs?”
“I think you saw them. I just think you didn’t want to admit it.”
“Yeah, I guess. But you would’ve been proud. I was joking around with her, teasing her, and everything.”
“It’s magic, isn’t it?” Mike looked like his mind was drifting elsewhere. “Pure magic.”
“I’m going to take her out tonight, too. After work.”
Mike was beaming. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Yeah, well, now I want some breakfast in me.”
As if on cue, Justine came by and dumped their orders on the table. “You gentlemen need anything else?”
“No, thank you,” said Mike.
Vinnie poured some milk and sugar into his coffee. Both men dug into their meals.
“The parts to the alternator should be arriving today,” said Vinnie, chewing on a mouthful of toast. “Maybe I’ll tackle it this weekend.”
Mike took a sip of his hot coffee. “Let me know if you need a hand.”
“I think I got it, but I’ll keep your number on speed dial.”
“So where are you going to take her tonight? Hopefully not to a bar?”
“No. I was thinking of that Tex-Mex place on the boardwalk.”
“Gaucho’s?”
“Yup.”
“That’s a good place.”
“Yeah,” said Vinnie, wiping his mouth. “They’ve got a live mariachi band tonight.”
“I bet she’ll like that.”
“Mike…”
“Yeah, Buddy?”
“Did you know about Billy Blake and Chief Holbrook’s wife?”
Mike’s expression became grave. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Nothing. My Dad told me about it this morning.”
“That was a horrible mess. Jim almost lost his job and his marriage over it.”
“Do you think Mrs. Holbrook messed around with Billy?”
“No one but Ellie…um, Mrs. Holbrook and Billy know that for sure. Billy threw it up in Jim’s face to burn his ass, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I shot pool with him last night at the Jolly Roger.”
“You shouldn’t be associating with the likes of him, Vin.”
“That’s exactly what Holbrook said.”
“Chief Holbrook,” Mike corrected.
“Yeah, Chief Holbrook.”
“He’s right, you know, and not just because he doesn’t like Billy.”
“I know. Billy doesn’t bother me at all.” Vinnie took a sip of his coffee and dipped his toast into the yolk of his eggs.
Mike took a bite of his muffin and washed it down with coffee. “Well, knowing what you now know, maybe he should.”
Vinnie swallowed. “Good point.”
***
Tara sat with Dr. Loews in the nursing home’s conference room behind a suite of offices, waiting for the administrator. The air conditioning was powerful and felt exquisite.
“She’s running a bit late,” explained Dr. Loews. “Her secretary said she’s in the middle of a phone conference.”
“No problem,” said Tara, but she knew this woman’s game. She was setting up a power differential from the get-go. The principal of the school she used to work in always did the same thing. Set up a meeting time, sent in the secretary to say she’s running late because she’s doing something more important at the moment, and then waltzed in like you were inconveniencing her.
Tara was sure Dr. Loews was already aware of this. He seemed to have the administrator’s number.
The door opened and a short but fit-looking woman in a pin striped pant suit marched through. She was attractive but severe looking, and her eighties hairstyle with massive bangs was an anachronism given the rest of her appearance.
Both Dr. Loews and Tara stood.
The woman shook Dr. Loews’ hand first. “Hi, Phil. How are you?”
Tara noticed her failure to use Dr. Loews’ title. Another power move.
“Hello, Ms. MacAteer. Fine.”
“And this must be the new candidate?” said Ms. MacAteer, extending her hand to Tara.
Tara shook it. “Dr. Bigelow.” She purposely left out her first name so it wasn’t accessible to MacAteer; she’d have to use Tara’s title. Two could play at this game.
“Formal,” remarked MacAteer. “Please, have a seat.”
They all took a seat. Tara and Loews sat to the right of the head of the table and, quite predictably, MacAteer sat at the head.
“So, does she have a resume?”
She? She still refused to use Tara’s title.
Loews pulled papers out of his briefcase and slid them across the table to MacAteer.
MacAteer took out a pair of squared oval reading glasses and rested them low on her nose as she processed Tara’s resume, which only made her look even more severe, like one of those draconian librarians from Catholic school, the kind that was always shooshing the children.
Tara was trying to guess her age. Either she was in her mid-forties or she was a well-preserved early fifties.
“So, I see you have no experience working in skilled nursing facilities.”
“That’s correct,” said Tara. She didn’t want to appear defensive. She wouldn’t give this bitch the satisfaction. “But, I’m a cognitive-behavior therapist, and I could easily adapt Rational-Emotive Therapy to the residents here to address their presenting problems.” She dropped the term ‘Rational-Emotive Therapy’ because she knew MacAteer wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“How would you adapt your treatment from preschool children to adults, some with heavy psychiatric diagnoses? There’s a significant difference between a three-year-old tantrum and a verbally agitated schizophrenic.” Her condescension was apparent.
“I would employ a functional behavior assessment to determine the antecedents to the problematic behavior and what in the environment is reinforcing it.” Bring it, bitch.
Dr. Loews observed the exchange quietly. Tara wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but for the moment her focus was on MacAteer.
“Then what? I hope you don’t think you’ll be burdening my nurses with token economies and the like. They already have enough to do and will be expecting you to help alleviate their burden, not add to it.”
“I believe in helping my patients self-advocate,” replied Tara. “So, I would help the resident become more self-aware about their triggers, and how they can properly react to them. I believe that if you build an individual’s skill set, he or she will be less likely to engage in inappropriate behaviors.”
“Speaking of inappropriate behaviors, I hope you’re not easily frightened by a psychiatric population. Some of
our residents can be kind of rough. We’ve had nurses who’ve been scratched, punched, groped, and spit at.”
Tara smiled. “I am a psychologist. Psychiatric conditions don’t frighten me in the least.”
MacAteer took off her glasses and put them back in her breast pocket. “Well, we haven’t had a great track record with Oceanside psychologists.”
Dr. Loews, ignoring the obvious barb, leaned forward in his seat. “Well, we have a lot of faith in Dr. Bigelow. She comes highly recommended.”
MacAteer sized Tara up with her eyes quite obviously, appraising her and making quite a show of it. “So, why did you leave the preschool?”
Dr. Loews interjected before Tara could respond. “I’d like to remind you, Ms. MacAteer, that you are not hiring Dr. Bigelow, you are simply granting her privileges here. She’s been vetted by Oceanside.”
“It was a simple question,” said MacAteer. “Your reaction, quite frankly, has me concerned.”
“It’s all right,” said Tara. “I feel more than comfortable answering that question.”
Loews nodded his assent.
“It was a simple matter of budget cuts. The school’s pool of students has been constricting over the past few years, and I was newest in the department. It was a simple case of ‘last hired, first fired.’”
“I see,” said MacAteer. “She’s all up to date on the Medicare/Medicaid regulations?”
“She’s going to be oriented and trained this afternoon,” answered Dr. Loews. MacAteer was now talking about Tara as if she wasn’t in the room with them, yet another power tactic.
“Well, I’m okay with her if you are, Phil.”
“We’re ready to go ahead with this.”
“When can she start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Excellent. We need someone to pick up Monroe Hetz’s caseload. He was a disaster.” MacAteer looked at Tara and smiled. “We need more women in healthcare. I like you. You remind me of me when I was your age.”
Tara almost threw up in her mouth.
“Great,” said Loews. “Would it be all right if Dr. Bigelow had a quick tour of the facility?”
MacAteer rose. “I think that could be arranged. I’ll have the director of social work paged. She can show you around.”
The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel Page 8