The Unchanged (Book 3): Safe Harbor

by Starnes, T. M.

  “Why don’t we just drive over them? They’ll either get out of the way or get squished,” Janessa added.

  I shook my head. “Those are big boys and a lot of them. A gator can tear a tire off its rim or rip a fender apart. They don’t like to move until they want to move. They also look like they just ate. They’re sleepy. I don’t want to wake up a grumpy dinosaur, do you?”

  King moved against Cheyenne legs, in between the wall ahead of us and her. King looked up at her looking through her scope. He leaned against her further, then lay down on her feet. She didn’t react.

  “Cheyenne?” I asked while Randy and the others brainstormed ideas.

  “Cheyenne?” I asked again when she didn’t respond.

  I moved beside her, both her eyes were open, and she was looking through the scope with one eye and at the wall with the other. King sat back up and looked up at her.

  I brushed her hair back with my hand, she blinked but didn’t move.

  I gently reached up and pressed the barrel of the Winchester lower and away from her face. She blinked, blinked again, and looked at me, her eyes unfocused.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  She glanced around for a moment. Left, right, down, at me, behind me, back to the wall, back to me, and squinted at me.

  “Yeah. I’m okay,” she replied, unconsciously petting King, “I just . . . I just don’t like, um,” she shook her head, “Those, um, those . . . things.” She nodded her chin toward the wall.

  I frowned. “The gators?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine now. What are we going to do?”

  The confusion on her face worried me, how long was she frozen like that?

  We discussed our options with each other as the rear guard kept watch. Noise sometimes scares them off. But loud noise attracts the Changed. We didn’t make loud noises unless we had to. We can’t drive over them, for the reasons I gave. Maybe we could convince them to move? Fake ‘em out?

  “I think we can scare enough of them off to get somebody to the trucks and open the gate to let us through. I can drive us up to them, roar the engine, hopefully, they’ll move. If they want to fight back, I can back up quick enough to avoid them.” I shrugged. “Unless they’re stubborn.”

  Randy nodded. “What if no one left keys in the trucks?”

  I pointed at the winch on the front of our Jeep. “It’ll come in handy then.”

  Demetri stepped forward. “I’ll move one.”

  Randy nodded, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. “Me too.”

  I shook my head. “Not you, Randy, you’re the one who drive’s the plow. We need our battering ram.”

  He nodded, and Julie popped a wad of gum, some getting stuck on her nose ring.

  “You know I’m not going to let Demetri do it without me?”

  Yeah, I knew. Demetri was one of her ninjas, but I’d rather people volunteer.

  “Sure, then ride with us. Who’s going to drive the green monster through the wall?”

  Julie grinned. “My ninjas, of course.” She was on the radio calling one of her team to take the wheel before I could say anything more.

  Cheyenne was in front with me. King between the seats. Janessa behind me. Julie on the floor with Demetri in the seat behind Cheyenne. We inched forward as everyone loaded into their vehicles behind us.

  Cheyenne turned on the A/C full blast and stared out the front window. King glanced up at her. She noticed me glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

  “Pay attention to the road,” she whispered, “I’m fine.”

  I roared the engine as we approached the gators, slipping the Jeep into neutral back and forth. Several of them immediately headed for the water. Two more wandered out of our path but remained on the road. Four big ones didn’t even budge.

  King sat up and looked at Cheyenne. Cheyenne’s knuckles were white where she gripped her Grandpa’s shotgun, loaded with heavy slugs.

  I roared the engine again and more moved off. One of the big ones turned and faced us. Cheyenne set the shotgun down and pulled her legs into her seat up to her chest.

  Julie leaned forward between the front seats, glancing at the gators ahead of us.

  “Holy crap, that’s a freaking T-Rex,” she whispered in awe.

  I looked down at Julie and shook my head, indicating Cheyenne. She covered her mouth and nodded.

  King rested his chin on Cheyenne’s knee, but Cheyenne didn’t notice.

  I moved to the left to give the gators more incentive to move toward the water. A few more took the hint and slithered away. The big ones? Not so much. Grumpy, irate dinosaurs.

  We neared the one facing us, it was still a good two car lengths ahead of us. Cheyenne was staring right at it. King put his paw on her leg.

  I roared the engine and the big gator slowly opened its mouth, exposing teeth with bits of flesh stuck between them, then it clapped its jaws shut.

  “Get away,” Cheyenne whispered, “Get away,” she repeated, as King put both paws on her leg, “Get away, get away, get away.”

  Julie reached for her, “Cheyenne, why don’t you move-”

  As soon as Julie touched her, Cheyenne jerked away and screamed, digging at the seat belt, shoving King and Julie away, slapping at the door, screaming: “Get away! Get away!”

  None of us had seen her act like this. I slammed on the brakes as she broke down in tears, fumbling at the seat belt latch. Janessa tried to calm her. I reached for her, calling her name but she was screaming, shouting at the gator to get away. She batted my hands away, slapped at Julie trying to distract her, kept pushing King back, kept screaming for the gator to get away.

  I slammed the Jeep into park, kicked open the door, drew my Colt, and stepped around the Jeep as everyone screamed at me to get back in.

  I emptied my .45 into the big son of a bitch as it turned to look at me.

  I fired, fired, fired, and kept firing. I emptied the gun. Reloaded, and emptied it again.

  “Taylor!”

  I was in the middle of reloading a third time when I realized Janessa was standing behind me, her Glock in her hand, staring at me, but aiming her weapon at the retreating gators fleeing into the water.

  “She’s okay,” Janessa said calmly, “She’s okay now. You can stop.” She tilted her head back to the Jeep.

  Cheyenne gazed back at me, tears filled her eyes as Julie hugged her tightly, rocking her. I could read Julie’s lips telling Cheyenne she was okay. King’s head and half his body was protectively lying across her lap.

  I glanced back at the mushy remains of the monster in the middle of the road.

  My .45 had pulverized the gators head. I shot it consistently between and directly in the eyes. Blood poured from its head and mouth. I was surprised to realize that the thing was just a few feet from me and had turned to me as I approached before I opened fire.

  “She’s okay, Taylor, she’s okay now.” Janessa moved over to me to watch my back.

  I stepped to Cheyenne’s side of the Jeep and opened her door. I holstered the Colt as Julie let her go, and she reached for me. I took her in my arms and let her cry into my neck.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! They scare me!” she cried between sobs.

  Squeezing her tighter, I whispered in her ear, “It’s okay. I won’t let anything hurt you. As long as I’m around nothing is going to hurt you.” I stroked King’s head, “King’ll watch out for you too.”

  Cheyenne repeated how much alligators scared her as I continued holding on. Janessa responded to Randy on the radio and let him know what was going on with all the gunfire. Julie and Demetri got out of the Jeep as Janessa climbed in and rubbed Cheyenne’s back as she finally let me go.

  “I feel so stupid!” Cheyenne said, “They couldn’t even get to me in here!”

  Janessa took one of the clean towels and helped her wipe her tears away.

  Someone’s hand rubbed my back. It was Julie behind me.

  “We’ll move the trucks. You clear
ed the way, Taylor.”

  I looked toward the wall, only three gators remained. They were far away from the trucks and the big ones were completely absent except for the dead one.

  Julie leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Just because, hero.” She winked and popped a bubble before leading Demetri to the trucks.

  I turned back to Cheyenne and suggested meditative breathing techniques to calm herself as the plow and the rest of the caravan slowly crept toward our position.

  Demetri and Julie were elated to find keys in both trucks and opened our way. Janessa drove as Cheyenne and I sat in the rear as she calmed, King there for her.

  There was more devastation on the far side than Mia and Lexi could adequately describe. Both species were piled up against the wall and bodies stretched toward the ocean far down the road. Several of our vehicles slowed to recover abandoned rifles and pistols discarded on the road and beside the dead. We drove on eventually seeing multi colored, two and three storied homes and business roofs peeking out above the trees as we got closer to Hatteras park road. The smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of decay and rot. Even here, near the ocean, the trees were brittle and dry.

  Requests for a short stop to see the Atlantic Ocean grew before we continued to Bruxton. It was odd to hear so many voices say they’d never seen the Atlantic or any seashore before. I switched places with Janessa. Cheyenne, calm and confident once again, took her place again riding shotgun. Julie and Demetri had already returned to Julie’s green monster and Julie even suggested we all could use a dip in the ocean as relief from the horrors of the past week.

  I agreed since we’d seen nothing but a Roamer or two since the wall. We kept vigilant anyway since we had no idea if the events at the wall was a herd of monsters, a one-time occurrence, or something else.

  Even though I wanted to get home, to see if my mother or father were even alive . . . or changed. . . I understood the value of good morale. And since 64 tended to go all the way to the shore, why not?

  As we passed the right turn sign pointing the way to Cape Hatteras, I told everyone to remember the turnoff and what was around us as landmarks in case we became separated. As we passed a church on our right, two Porcupines climbed the walls to its roof to watch us pass. Four non-aggressive Roamers protected two young Skittlers from us in the open doorway of the church.

  The immediate area was mostly deserted. Vacation homes were empty. A large 7-Eleven was deserted, the windows shattered. We passed empty condos. We drove by private homes, and the blue of the Atlantic reflected the light of the sun across its gently rippling waves.

  Cars, parked and abandoned, sat in a public parking lot by the public pier. We made a loop of our vehicles and pointed back the way we came.

  Porcupines, lots of Porcupines, ran from us and hid, many taking perches on balconies and roofs of nearby buildings with beach front property.

  We set guards, armed ourselves, and decided to inspect the seashore before we let the smallest kids come down. Lexi and Mia came with us; they were tough and fast. Randy stayed with Patty at the plow, while Sheila and Lori watched over the kids. A few older people, older than us, but not our few elderly, decided to come with us. Ten of us marched toward the ocean.

  We stepped out onto the sand, wearing our hats and sunglasses, we shaded our eyes due to the sun’s intensity and the reflections from the water. The breeze off the ocean was cool but loud, we pushed our hats tighter down our heads. Julie’s floppy sun bonnet was tied down with a red ribbon. She grinned and winked at me, blowing a bubble.

  The beautiful Atlantic Ocean, where I swam, sailed and lived most of my life. Where I dated, partied in high school, attempted to learn how to use a surfboard, explored the surf for pirate treasure as a kid, found shark teeth, examined stranded sea life, and helped clean in voluntary environmental groups.

  This was my home shore. This was who I am. I was part of the sea. Salt ran in my veins. Ancient washed up shipwrecks, weird sea-life after storms, ships in distress, sailing flotillas, pirate legends, Civil War battles and more. I knew this shore from Mare’s Head to Rodanthe, to the entire Outer Banks, and down to my home in Bruxton on Hatteras Island. There wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen on these shores.

  “Taylor?” Cheyenne pointed down the shoreline. “What are those?

  I frowned.

  “I haven’t got a clue.”

  Chapter 10

  Debris littered the shore.

  Abandoned umbrellas, beach towels, coolers, trash of all types, was pushed closer to the sand dunes from previous high tides. In the distance in both directions, were a few Roamers and some sort of animals, mutated or not, we couldn’t tell from this distance.

  A small power boat bobbed lazily in the surf, anchored near the middle section of the pier to our left. Jennette’s Pier, a local landmark, looked abandoned, the operators and staff probably mutated.

  I’d seen the surf after hurricanes, and often. weather created weird patterns on the shoreline, perplexing the local owners and patrons of the businesses behind us when they were open. The shoreline can take on odd appearances sometimes depending on the ocean’s fickle nature.

  I assumed that was what Cheyenne was pointing at and what we saw.

  Scattered randomly along the shore were numerous low mounds where the ocean met the sand, two to three feet high and of differing lengths. The waves washed over them but didn’t appear to wear them down, no matter how hard the surf pounded the shore.

  “Dead animals?” Julie offered.

  I shook my head. “No, there’d be more birds. Maybe there was a really bad storm at sea and it tore up the surf, making those bumps.”

  Janessa stepped beside me. “But there’s no pattern. Maybe it’s the remains of ships? Or parts of ships?”

  We moved down the beach toward the nearest mound, keeping watch on the distant mutants which were finally noticing us. King made no indication he cared, the Setter shaking his red fur free of sand after a roll.

  “Lexi? Mia? Anything we should worry about?” I asked.

  The girls were looking in opposite directions using their binoculars. Both said the Changed animals were dogs and the Roamers were just watching us. Neither set were approaching.

  The breeze felt great in the oppressive heat. Cool spray lifted our spirits, Cheyenne and I decided to inspect the nearest mound. Janessa, Julie, and Demetri kept a few yards behind us with the Atkin sisters. Sandra and Ralph, our older companions in their sixties, trailed behind them. You could feel the desire from everyone to just run into the surf to cool off. I know I certainly wanted to. The wind from the sea blew powerfully and loudly against us. We’d been stinking for a week; the drought didn’t care if we needed baths. We held back though, wanting to make sure everything was safe for the others to join us.

  A geyser of sand spouted from the small sandy hill Cheyenne and I were approaching.

  We stopped.

  A second geyser spouted to the side of the hill.

  Then another directly on the hill.

  We drew our guns and stepped back.

  Then the report of gunfire reached our ears over the sounds of waves and wind.

  We looked around but couldn’t see whoever was firing.

  Mia clapped her hands rapidly to get our attention and pointed.

  The boat at the middle of the pier had three people looking toward us. The boat’s horn blew, and one person waved frantically as another aimed a rifle at us.

  Another puff of sand erupted from the hill.

  “Run! Get back to the cars!” I yelled, Cheyenne with King, knelt beside me taking aim at our attackers.

  Then the mound began to rise.

  “Run!” Julie yelled.

  A Changed rose from the damp mound.

  It’s skin shimmered, fish-like, and scaled. The purple coloration of its skin included deeper purple nearer to black. Its eyes were deep purple, with golden veins and a gold iris nearly reptilian. Like an alligator almost. I
t had no ears. It stood six feet tall and flexed its webbed, clawed fingers as it shook off the sand still covering it. As its eyes looked over each of us, a bullet hit it in the back and it shrugged but appeared unaffected, hardly taking notice.

  King barked at it and the creature turned its attention to Cheyenne and the dog.

  The creatures neck expanded. Gills flexed as it opened its mouth, exposing two rows of serrated teeth just as it tilted back its head and gave a long, high-pitched hiss.

  It was several feet away from us when we opened fire. We hit it, but it reacted only slightly to each hit, jerking, and hissing but not falling. Maybe its nervous system was slow. Its reaction time affected. It was obvious we were causing it damage, but it continued coming for us.

  “Taylor!” Julie yelled.

  All along the shoreline, the mounds were erupting with similar creatures. The Changed canines in the distance ran from the shore, fleeing back to dry land. The Roamers hurried after them.

  “Go! Go!” I shouted, turning toward the cars and about to run.

  King barked behind me and made me turn around.

  Frozen, Cheyenne remained where she was. The Winchester shook in her grasp as she knelt on one knee. I rushed back to her and faced the creature from the blue Atlantic and fired my .45.

  BANG

  The noise shook Cheyenne, she unfroze and fired.

  BANG klik-klack

  BANG klik-klack

  The creature recoiled when struck by the .45, but either Cheyenne shot wild, which was unlikely this close or the bullets from her Winchester hardly fazed it, even with full penetration. Its blood rand down its stomach and legs, staining the sand.

  I wrapped my free hand under her armpit and pulled her to her feet. “Run! Just run!”

  The boaters continued firing, their horn blaring as the boat neared shore. I took a moment to look past the creature at the lone woman on the boat waving her arms toward the south end of the beach.

  The creatures were running from both sides of the shoreline toward us. The monster in front of us methodically advanced, hissing, clicking, and occasionally shrieking. It began staggering, finally feeling its wounds, but continued forward.