Sam placed her hands on her hips and blew her bangs out of the way in frustration. “Fine!” Her face softened as she saw the look of hurt pass over Blount’s features. “Look … You’ve kept us safe so far and I trust you, but…”
“But?”
“But trust works both ways. Give a little, get a little.” She grinned. “Ya know?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
“We’re going to California. There’s something we need. The island has to be destroyed for good, and there’s something there that’ll do it.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it. California’s under water, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yep. Told you that you wouldn’t like it.”
Archer fussed with Casey’s seatbelt then strapped himself in as Sam powered up the helicopter. Blount glanced over at the two freshly dug graves before nodding for Sam to take off. As the ground receded below them, Blount went over his plan once more in his head, trying all the angles, all the outcomes, and all the options.
Chapter Four
“Dear God,” Sam muttered as they surveyed the destruction below.
Archer pulled Casey’s head towards his chest as she whimpered. He looked to where she’d glanced, grimacing at the tangle of bodies in the overturned school bus. Archer could see where the water level had been on the buildings. It was receding, albeit at a slow pace. Every few minutes, they flew over survivors huddled on rooftops. When they saw the approaching helicopter, they would leap up and frantically wave their arms.
“We can’t do anything for them,” Blount muttered when Sam glanced over at him.
“We have supplies.”
Blount pointed down at a group of survivors. “We land and give them what we have, and then what?”
Sam pursed her lips and bowed her head. She saw the logic in Blount’s response, but she hated the reality of it. One particular group opened fire when they realized the helicopter wasn’t coming to their rescue. Sam expertly invaded the incoming fire. Blount gave her a look as if to say, “I told you so.”
Blount spied a collection of boats and yachts in between two towering office buildings. He saw no movement on any of their decks, and from the looks of their hulls they’d been pushed inland by the tsunami and battered terribly. He pointed to them. “Get me as close as you can to one of those boats.”
Sam nodded and began to descend. She kept her eyes peeled for power lines as she maneuvered down into the manmade canyon of steel and glass. Blount unbuckled and opened his door. Hissing wind and rotor echoes engulfed the cockpit. Sam hovered above the biggest of the boats until one of the skids gently rested on its bow. The boat rocked slightly as Blount clambered out and dropped the few feet to its deck. He waved Sam away and she rose, hovering a few hundred feet above.
Blount let his body acclimate to the rocking of the boat, while he scanned the surrounding area for any threats. Satisfied, he walked over to the door leading below deck. His boots squeaked on the wet fiberglass floor.
The boat rocked violently, and he cried out as he crashed to the floor. He scrambled for purchase as the boat heaved to the right.
“What the hell?” The boat was struck once again, this time from the rear.
The boat yawed and water flooded up the stern. Blount started sliding down the steep incline, but he reached out a hand and grabbed the railing. He hissed with pain as his palm was slit open by the jagged rail, but his slide was halted for the time being. Glancing down between his feet, he sucked in a breath as he saw a massive shark take another chunk out of the rear of the boat.
Blount raised himself up and looked over the railing. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. The water was swirling with gray fins of varying sizes. He watched in fascination as blood welled up in his clinched fist and fell into the water. The water grew agitated as the sharks caught scent of the blood, and he could see more sharks headed his direction. He vaguely recalled an article in National Geographic years back. Sharks could smell blood, no matter how small the amount, from up to two miles away.
The presence of the sharks dumbfounded Blount. He was in the middle of a California metropolis. What the hell were sharks doing here? Then the pieces fell into place like dominos. The tsunami! Of course, the sharks would be attracted inland with the ocean, drawn by the scent of so much blood and meat.
The shark at the end of the boat lost its purchase and slid back into the churning water. When the boat righted, Blount seized the chance to gain his feet. He glanced around for an escape route as water lapped at his knees. After rushing to the stern, he gauged the distance to the next boat. He looked down at the dark shapes circling in the murk, and then looked at the other boat. In ideal circumstances he might be able to make the jump, but this wasn’t ideal. The boat was listing now, stern climbing into the air, reaching for the sky.
Blount felt the air around him turn into a hurricane, and he glanced up to see Sam hovering. Her eyes were wide as she watched the sharks. Blount motioned for her to lower farther, but the helicopter shuddered in the wind and jerked upwards as an updraft scooped it higher. Blount shouted obscenities as the helicopter whirled towards him and the tail rotor careened close to his position.
He leapt into the water before he thought about the action. The water sucked the breath from him and embraced his limbs in its icy coldness. Something rubbery sandpapered against his torso and pushed him against the side of the office building. His lungs burned as he tried not to panic, and he focused on swimming to the surface. It was right there! He resisted the urge to inhale as his body fought against his efforts and urged him to do just that very thing. Two more dark shapes rushed at him from the gloom. They hit him, one in the chest, and the other in the legs. He was slammed into the glass of the building with such force that he lost all sense of time and direction. The need to breathe abruptly left him and silence settled.
He pulled his pistol and beat the first shark on the snout as hard as he could. The shark shook its enormous head and swam off, but a second shark snapped at his legs as he scissored wildly. He turned in desperation and fired into the glass. Cracks spidered through it and the glass turned opaque with fissures. With a whoosh it gave way and Blount was sucked through the jagged hole.
Water poured through the window and carried him down the hallway. His ears popped as the pressure changed in the building. He slammed into the end of the hall with a grunt, and his ribs cried out as he took his first breath. It felt like liquid fire down his gullet, but he gulped greedily anyway.
He wiped the stinging saltwater from his eyes and barely dodged to the right as a smaller shark came powering up the hallway, its tail lashing the walls and doors. The shark ran headfirst into the wall then slowly rolled over onto its back as blood poured from its snout and eyes.
Blount sludged through the waist deep water to a door marked with the universal symbol for stairway. The water rose rapidly, and it was up to his chest now. He tried the door, but realized, with a sinking sensation in his gut, it opened inward. The pressure of the water proved too great to break the door’s seal.
His head bumped against the ceiling tile and he looked up. Moving a tile aside, he hauled himself up into the ceiling crawlspace then crawled towards an air vent that led into the stairway.
The steel screen bulged outward, but didn’t give when he pushed. The water filled the crawlspace as he lay on his back, kicking the vent with all his might. It clattered into the stairway with a crash, and he wiggled through the tight opening. Water gushed from the vent like a broken water main as he hurried up the stairs.
He reached the top and slammed through the door, finding himself on the roof. Four people turned their heads in his direction as he stumbled into the sunlight. The distinct sound of weapons being cocked greeted him over the distant roar of the helicopter.
“Well, what do we have here?” a scrawny teen drawled as he leveled his hunting rifle at Blount.
The other teens giggled at the
ir leader and circled Blount. He felt for his gun, realizing he’d lost it at some point. He held up his hands and offered an easy smile.
“Take it easy, guys.”
“Who are you?” the lead teen said with a jab of his rifle. “And what the hell are you doing on my roof?”
Blount slowly closed the distance between him and the teen, all the while keeping a stream of chatter going.
“Stop moving, pops,” one of the other teens warned.
“Check his shadow, Nick!” another said.
Blount continued inching closer until he was less than two feet away from the boy. He peered into the boy’s eyes to gauge his resolve. The tip of the rifle wavered slightly and a wild look glazed the kid’s stare. The kid swallowed, his Adam’s apple rippling beneath his sunburned skin.
“Take it easy,” Blount said.
The boy glanced over at his pals and Blount made his play. He lunged forward and grabbed the barrel, yanking the kid towards him. In one swift motion, he twirled him around and applied a half nelson. He squeezed just enough to let the kid know he had no qualms about snapping a bastard’s neck.
“Drop your weapons. Now!” Blount ratcheted his hold on the leader’s neck and the boy’s eyes bulged. He whispered in the teen’s ear, “Nick? Is it? Tell them to do it. Nice and easy.” Easing up on the pressure, he let the kid take a few shuddering breaths.
As Blount held the kid, something flashed through his mind. A brief glimpse of a carnival, a mountain, and lots of snow. Blount sucked in a breath. He’d encountered this kid before…somewhere else. “Nick Billings.” The kid stiffened in his grasp at the mention of his name. “Tell your friends to drop their guns. Do it now.”
“Drop ‘em. Drop ‘em damnit!”
The guns clattered to the roof and they slowly back away. When the helicopter’s backwash buffeted them, they shielded their eyes against the swirling debris and gravel peppering them like miniature missiles. Blount inched the boy forward until he was standing over the guns.
“I don’t know when or how we’ll meet, but I know you’ve been a part of my life. Good luck, until we meet again.” He shoved the boy, who screamed as he pitched face first into the tar and gravel.
Blount raised a hand above his head without looking, motioning for Sam to come in at a hover. He felt the skid press into his hand a few seconds later, and he looped an arm over it. Sam gained altitude and Blount held on tightly. She moved a few building over before landing.
Blount collapsed on the roof, catching his breath as he stared up at the fading sky.
Archer jumped out of the helicopter and scanned the rooftop. Satisfied there were no immediate threats, he knelt down beside Blount. “Jesus! We thought you were dead!”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Blount said with a tired smile. He heard Sam powering down the helicopter, but he was too exhausted to sit up and tell her not to. He must’ve blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing he was aware of was Sam peering down at him and smoothing his forehead. He sat up and groaned as dizziness overwhelmed him.
“Take it easy,” she said.
Hearing those words made Blount flash back to the group of teens. He looked over at the other building but the rooftop appeared deserted for the time being. The boy, what’d he’d sensed, troubled him. It wasn’t often that he sensed his past, or future, for that matter. He wondered which it was—past life or future life? He shook those thoughts from his head. That was another story for another time.
“How long was I out?”
“About ten minutes,” Sam said. “You’ve been going non-stop…”
“You shouldn’t have shut the chopper down. Everyone knows we’re here, and if they’re anything like those boys over there…”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sam muttered. “I saw you go in the water with all those sharks.” She halted and swallowed back emotion. “I-I-I thought we lost you.”
Blount attempted to sit up once again. This time the dizziness was less severe. He gained his feet and shuffled over to the edge of the roof, then glanced down at the remaining boats.
Sam stood beside him and followed his gaze. “What’s the deal with the boats?”
“I need a scuba tank.”
“What for?”
“The place we’re going is an underground facility. I figure it’ll be underwater, too, if it’s been breached.”
“You’re exhausted,” Sam said. “I’ll go get one. No arguments.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
Blount looked over at Archer and motioned with his head. “Go with her.”
* * *
Archer slammed his shoulder into the stairway access door and entered the stairwell. Sam followed him in, and the smell of mildew and rot filled their nostrils, while Sam fought back a sneeze. Archer flicked on the flashlight at the end of the M4 and started down.
Sam glanced up after a few flights and could still see the rectangle of light, which comforted her a bit. Archer was subdued as they descended, glancing back every few steps as if he were keeping an eye on the doorway.
They continued down and Sam sensed they were close, because the smell of saltwater grew more pungent. She halted as what seemed like thousands of tiny pinpoints of light reflected back at her at the next switchback. The rats squealed as the light passed over their masses.
“Great! Freakin’ rats!” Archer muttered. “I hate rats.”
Sam thanked her stars for the heavy-duty work boots and thick flight suit. She looked around the stairwell and saw some chunks of concrete in one of the corners, so she hefted a good-sized piece, tossing it into the middle of the rats. As they scattered she and Archer hurried down into the void that’d been created. She quickly pushed through the door and into a dark hallway.
They were assaulted by the stench immediately. Sam placed a gloved hand over her mouth and nose and breathed shallowly.
“Jesus! That reeks.” Archer grunted.
Sam played the light about the dark hallway, and the carnage was revealed in increments. A boot here, a gloved hand there. A leg, a torso, an arm, an empty SWAT riot helmet. Her light reflected off the POLICE insignia on one of the bodies. The corpses were bloated and black with decay and numerous eyes reflected from their body cavities.
Sam rushed forward as quickly as she could, keeping her attention fixed on the far end of the hallway. She sobbed softly and struggled to maintain her crumbling composure. This was too much. Even after everything she’d seen, everything she’d been forced to do to survive, this was too much. Death had touched the earth and turned its surface black.
The closeness of death, the stench of rot, and the reality that the world would never be the place it was before, with all its superficial safety and certainness, settled over her. This was the new way of life for humankind. Sam brushed against the left side of the hallway and puffs of black billowed into the light. She held her breath, walking even faster.
Archer took his time checking the weapons strewn about the floor. Most were empty, but he did find a few more 9mm round clips, which he slipped in his pockets.
Sam reached the far end of the hallway. She glanced back into the gloom and saw Archer’s light playing about the bodies. He was farther back than she was comfortable with, so she considered heading back to his side, but she was loath to repeat the nightmarish journey through all those ravaged corpses. She kept her back to the wall and waited as Archer finished his searches and headed towards her.
Sam tried the first door on her left. It opened to reveal water lapping at the windowsill. She was relieved to find the window would be fairly simple to open.
Archer shut the door behind them. He noticed her looking quizzically at him. “I feel more comfortable having something solid at our backs.”
“Me, too.”
“Hold up a minute.”
“What?” Sam tensed.
“What’s the deal with you and Blount?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be coy,” A
rcher said with a chuckle. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“Hit a nerve, did I?”
“There’s nothing there. Drop it.”
But, there was something there. Sam felt something for Blount, though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She’d seen the looks Blount had given her, had picked up on his non-verbal cues, but she’d shoved all that to the back of her mind. She’d read once that relationships forged under the pressures of extreme stress were natural, but they had a tendency to fail after those stressors were non-existent. Who was she kidding? The world was different and would never be the same again. Still, she wondered what it would be like to be held in Blount’s arms. To feel secure in the knowledge there was someone else that cared about her. Once Blount did what he planned, what would they do next? Would they stay together as a group? She found herself wondering about the future. Hope? Was that what she was feeling?
Sam opened the window to the sound of the bow of the boat rocking up against the building’s side. She killed her flashlight and set it on the floor. Archer glanced out the window and frowned.
“Maybe you should go,” he said. “My feet are too big for that ledge.”
Sam eased herself out onto the ledge. “Wish me luck,” she called back over her shoulder with a bravado she didn’t feel, and made her way to the boat. She refused to glance down at the water a few inches from her boots. Sam was certain that, at any moment, one of the sharks would lunge from the water and snatch her from the ledge. When she reached the boat, she let out a huge breath of relief.
The boat rocked gently beneath her weight as she made her way over to the hatch. Darkness seemed to reach up for her, and she loathed going down into its eager arms. She scanned the rest of the boat’s deck, glimpsing three scuba tanks secured in their racks. Whispering a prayer of thanks, she rushed over to them, but the surge of hope came crashing down when she noticed the tanks were secured behind a thick strand of cable with a padlock snug against said cable. She looked around for something to pry the lock loose.
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