by Bobby Adair
As he got up to follow Dalhover, I dropped a knee between Jerry’s shoulder blades and laid the machete blade across the back of his neck.
“Don’t hurt me,” Jerry pleaded.
Five minutes later, we were all on the deck. I looked around at the lake to get my bearings. We were nearly a mile from either shore, far up the lake from Monk’s Island, and around several bends. No one still on the island had any chance of seeing or hearing what had been planned for us.
Hefting my machete, I looked at Jerry, Gerald, and the girl kneeling in the stern as they leaned over the gunwale.
Freitag must have seen the way I was looking at the three, because she guessed my thoughts. “You promised not to kill them.”
Implicitly, maybe. I looked at the three. Crap. “Sure. But they were going to kill us.”
“No, they weren’t,” Paul assured me.
I pointed my machete at the water around the boat. “Don’t you wonder why we were stopping in the middle of the lake?”
Paul looked around. His face went slack.
Gretchen asked, “Was that the plan, Jerry? Were you going to kill us?”
“Of course not.”
“Why were we stopping in the middle of the lake?”
Jerry turned to look up at Gretchen.
“Stay on your knees,” said Dalhover.
From an uncomfortably twisted position, Jerry asked, “How could you even think that?”
Gretchen repeated her question.
Gerald snapped, “We were looking for a marina.”
“A marina,” Jerry confirmed.
Gretchen looked around.
“Man,” Murphy said, “they’re lyin’.”
Freitag said, “We can’t kill them. Let’s put them ashore somewhere.”
“Or let ‘em swim.” Murphy was shaking his head and pointing at the water. “That’s what they were gonna do to us. If they didn’t shoot us first.”
“As much as I want to kill them, we can’t.” Dalhover made it clear that debate on the matter was closed.
“I agree,” Gretchen said.
Murphy shook his head. Mostly to himself, he muttered, “That’s a mistake.”
“Shit.” With the bulk of his heavy body already on the gunwale, Jerry pushed with his legs and slithered into the dark lake.
“Dammit.” Dalhover glared at Murphy.
Murphy said, “I wasn’t gonna shoot him, Top.”
Gerald decided that distraction was enough to try to save himself. He rolled over, swept his leg across Dalhover’s ankles and knocked him off his feet.
Rachel shouted, and Paul stepped back.
Gerald was on Dalhover in a flash, trying to wrestle the rifle out of Dalhover’s hands. Murphy jumped into the fight.
Gretchen shouted, “No!”
Another splash.
The girl was over the side.
While moving over to get my hands on the barrel of the rifle at the center of the wrestling match I said, “Let ‘em swim.”
Murphy hauled back and punched Gerald in the back of the head.
I got my hands on the end of the barrel, and though I didn’t have control of it, I was able to keep it pointed into the deck as the three struggled.
It only took another few moments.
Bleeding from his mouth and nose and drawing his breath in deep gasps, Gerald fell back against the stern, while Dalhover stood up, rifle in hand.
Murphy stood up, ready to punch Gerald again.
“Gerald, you didn’t need to do that,” Gretchen said to him.
Gerald glared back.
“Oh, my God,” Rachel shouted, “Where’s Jerry?”
I looked out at the water. I only saw one swimmer.
“He can’t swim,” Paul said.
Another one?
“Where is he?” Gretchen turned around and looked toward the bow.
I looked around. All of us did, except for Murphy. His job was to keep Gerald in place, and by the look on Murphy’s face, Gerald had better not try anything else.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” I’d seen enough James Bond movies to know that Jerry was hiding under the boat or something like that. “Turn off the engine.”
Paul was closest to the helm and did as asked.
“What are you thinking?” Gretchen asked.
I pointed at the water along the boat’s hull. “I’ll bet he’s hiding underneath and coming up for breaths.”
“That’s stupid,” Dalhover told me.
I asked, “Where is he, then?”
“Bottom of the lake.” Dalhover wiped some blood away from his mouth and looked down at Gerald in a way that should have given the man cause to worry.
Gretchen looked up and down the length of the boat. “Let’s check. Paul, you and Rachel go and look over each side of the bow.” She stepped over to the port side. “I’ll take this side. Zed, you take that side. Dalhover, will you look over the stern?”
Shaking his head, Dalhover leaned over the back of the boat.
Murphy leaned close to Gerald. “It won’t bother me to shoot you if you decide to get froggy.”
“Froggy?” Gerald was confused.
“If you jump,” Murphy explained.
Not even knowing why, I told Gerald, “Murphy is a comedian.”
“Nothing back here,” Dalhover announced.
Rachel said, “Nothing here.”
“Clear,” said Paul.
“We’ll keep looking for a few minutes. “I doubt Jerry can hold his breath for long.”
Gerald said, “He’s not under the boat.”
“And how do you know that?” Gretchen asked.
“Because that dude’s crazy.”
“Yet, you sided with him.”
Gerald looked at Murphy with plenty of hate in his eyes. “You were going to let these fucks on the island.”
“Don’t you understand that you’re immune?” Gretchen asked him.
“Nobody knows that for sure,” Gerald argued. “We might all still get it, and you would have turned us all into monsters.”
Murphy shot me a look. “Told you, Zed.”
I huffed and flatly said, “Yeah, you told me. Everybody hates us.”
Dalhover glanced at me and almost smiled. “If you whiners don’t be quiet about that shit, I’m going to hate you, too.”
Damn, even he had a sense of humor.
From the front of the boat, Paul mused, “Ignorance. Nothing ever changes.”
Gretchen asked, “Does anybody see anything yet?”
Nobody did.
“We’ll give it another few minutes, just to be sure.” She was sad about that.
I wasn’t. It saved me the trouble of killing crazy-ass Jerry and dealing with the guilt I’d feel about it later.
“If you’re going to kill me,” Gerald spat, “just do it.”
Gretchen wasn’t impressed with Gerald’s machismo. “You watch too many movies. Nobody wants to kill anybody.”
I said, “Hey, that chick out there looks like maybe she’s getting into trouble.”
Dalhover looked. “Dammit.”
From her side of the boat, Gretchen announced, “Jerry’s not here. Paul, will you come back here and drive the boat? We need to go get Melissa before she drowns.”
Paul hurried back. Rachel followed and went down into the cabin.
“Looks like crazy Jerry drowned himself.” I looked at the others for consensus on that.
Gretchen shook her head. “I was hoping we could trade him for Steph.”
Shit. She was right. We could have. I looked back at the water, hoping to see Jerry coming up for air.
The cabin cruiser’s engine started and Paul steered it toward Melissa. Rachel came out of the cabin with a couple of life preservers. She tossed one in Gerald’s lap and moved to stand beside him. Paul was guiding the boat so that when we came up beside Melissa, she’d be on our side.
I asked, “Gretchen, we can trade these two for Steph, right?”
“Jay will go nuts when he finds out about Jerry,” Paul said. “He’ll want revenge.”
“Are Steph and Amy in danger?”
“Hurting them won’t make any sense.” Gretchen sat down in a seat by Paul. She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Jay is crazy, but he’s smart. The whole reason he kept Steph and Amy is because they’re nurses. They’re valuable.”
I asked, “What about Megan?”
“He won’t hurt a child.”
I couldn’t tell if Gretchen was certain or whether she was hoping.
Paul slowed the boat.
Rachel tossed the life preserver to Melissa. “Grab it.”
Melissa did, looking up at me with fear in her eyes.
I shook my head. That was disappointing.
Paul asked, “What do we do with them?”
Gretchen’s mind was somewhere else by then. Maybe she was thinking about our chances of starting over somewhere safe. Maybe she was thinking about what might happen to Steph and Amy when Jay found out about Jerry.
Rachel said, “They both have a life preserver. They can swim back from here.”
Wow. She had a pragmatic edge, just like Murphy.
She saw me looking at her and smiled. “They won’t drown.”
I said, “I think we should take them back and try to trade them for Steph and Amy.”
“No,” Gretchen answered. “That really won’t work. Honestly Zed, once Jay hears that Jerry is dead, he’ll stop being rational. He’ll want to kill us all. He won’t have any interest in negotiating.”
“Well, I’m not leaving her there.” I looked at each of them and let them see my defiance.
“Nobody says you have to,” Paul said. “Going there now won’t do anybody any good. That’s all we’re saying. But nobody’s your boss; you can do what you like.”
Gretchen stood up. “We shouldn’t go back.” She pointed at Melissa. "Get her in the boat. We’ll skirt the shore until we see a canoe or something with none of the infected around. We’ll drop them off, and they can find their own way back.”
Rachel put herself in charge of getting Melissa into the boat.
Chapter 15
We found a kayak in a boathouse filled with somebody’s water toys on the north shore an hour after the sun came up. In that kayak, Melissa and Gerald were paddling away in the distance, and our cabin cruiser was drifting maybe a hundred feet from shore.
With one problem solved to nobody’s satisfaction, I announced, “I don’t know what any of you guys have in mind, but I’m going to go get Steph, and Amy and Megan if they want to come along. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to do it.”
Murphy looked at Rachel and then back at me. “I’m with Zed.”
“Me, too.” Dalhover didn’t look up. He was watching the pair paddle away.
All eyes fell to Rachel, who was looking at Murphy. “I’m not losing you again, Murphy. I’m sticking with you.”
“I guess that leaves us,” Gretchen said.
“You two aren’t locked in with us if you don’t want to be,” I said, “You had it pretty good on your island, I guess, before we came along. I don’t want to cause you any further trouble.”
Gretchen looked at Paul. Paul looked at each of us, but settled on Rachel. “I trust Rachel’s judgment. Rachel trusts Murphy.” Paul nodded to me. “Murphy trusts you, and you trust Dalhover. It’s the transitive property of trust.”
Murphy laughed. “Oh, God, not another professor.
Paul looked a little hurt.
“Don’t mind him,” I said. “He doesn’t like big words.”
Rachel laughed.
“Hey.” Murphy feigned offense.
Gretchen, choosing to be the adult, said, “It’ll be better for us all if we stick together, if we can all work together.”
“Another female boss,” Murphy concluded.
Gretchen laughed and looked at Rachel. “Is he always this way?”
Rachel nodded.
“I don’t want to be anybody’s boss.”
Murphy reached over and gave Gretchen a friendly punch on the arm. “I’m just joshin’ ya. You seem a lot like Steph, a natural in-charge type. I’m good with it.”
“I don’t care who’s in charge or anything like that,” I announced. “We can do anything you guys want. I don’t care. I only want a couple of things. I want to get Steph, and I want to find a safe place to go and get away from all this shit.”
Rachel pointed at Gretchen. “She does a good job at keeping everybody organized and keeping everything running smoothly.”
Paul said, “I’m biased. She’s been my boss for twenty-seven years. I don’t want to be retrained.”
“Fine.” Gretchen looked around at us. “Zed, we’ll find a way to get the girls back.”
“I have a way,” I said. Whether it was macho bluster on my part or matter-of-fact confidence, I continued. “You guys can drop me off near the island after dark. I’ll swim over there with my machete, take care of anybody who disagrees with me, steal a boat, and leave with Steph, Amy, and Megan.”
Murphy looked at Gretchen, “I’m not saying he can’t do it. He finds ways to make shit work out for him, but I think he watched too many action movies in his formative years.”
Rachel laughed at that.
“Zed,” Gretchen said, “Let’s work together on this, okay? We’ll help you get the girls. There’s no urgency though. If you go tonight, Jay will be expecting you. Let’s wait, they’re in no danger. Remember, Jay values them. Let’s take care of priorities first. Let’s get a relatively safe place to stay. Let’s get some food. And when the time is right, we’ll go get the girls. Okay?”
I hated being patient, but Gretchen was right. “You’re the boss.”
Chapter 16
Those among us who’d spent any time with Jay Booth were certain of one thing: he’d blame us for the death of his brother, Jerry, no matter how honest Gerald and Melissa were when they related the story of his brother’s demise. It was also taken as a certainty that Jay would want revenge. With few weapons with which to defend ourselves, we fled, depending on Lake Travis’s two hundred and seventy miles of shoreline, wrapped in countless curves and coves, to give us plenty of places to hide.
Gerald and Melissa would spend the better part of their day paddling a kayak back to Monk’s Island. Once they arrived, Jay wouldn’t waste any time getting into the islanders’ fastest ski boat with his most loyal henchmen, bringing revenge in our direction. With that in mind, the cabin cruiser’s big engine rumbled under the deck and we split the water, racing up the winding length of the lake.
I was sitting in the back of the boat, eyes closed, the wind buffeting me while I seethed. I hated Jay for what he’d done to us the night before. It irked me to think about what he might be doing to Steph. I hated running away.
Murphy sat in the back of the boat with me. Unfortunately, so did Freitag. Dalhover was rummaging around in the cabin, seeing what he could find. The others were gathered at the helm, making a plan. I was making my own plans, thinking about the best time and the best way to get back on the island, perhaps administer a little rough justice to Jay and his buddies, and rescue Steph.
Murphy, never content with quiet time, said to Freitag, “Don’t get me wrong on this. I’m thankful and all for what you did. I just don’t get it. Why’d you help us? I thought you hated Zed.”
Curious about the answer, I listened, but Freitag said nothing.
Murphy asked again, “Man, you might as well spill the beans.”
That was apparently all the prodding Freitag needed. In her delicate, vulnerable voice—a guise, I was sure—she asked, “Am I in danger now? Did I make a mistake?”
I said, “Don’t buy it, Murphy.”
“Buy what?” he asked.
“She’s playing her helpless act on you,” I answered. “She’s a lot tougher than you or me.”
; Murphy looked at Freitag. “So, you’re tough?”
“No,” she answered.
“Yes, she is,” I said.
Freitag turned angry dark eyes at me. She was regretting her choice to help us.
“Look,” I said, “I’m not being mean. You don’t need to play the woe-is-me game. I think you have a talent for manipulating—”
“You are a pig.” Freitag turned in her seat so that she could look out behind the boat. “I should have let them kill you.”
“Listen.” I waited for Freitag to look back at me.
She didn’t want to.
I tried to take any sense of confrontation out of my tone. “Please turn around. Let’s talk.”
Without saying a word, Freitag turned, making it seem as if she’d been tortured into compliance.
I said, “Thank you for helping us. Thank you for helping me.”
Freitag nodded, but just barely.
Continuing, I said, “I don’t mean to insult you. I really don’t. I think you’re really good at hiding behind a vulnerable façade, but—”
Freitag frowned and started to turn back away.
I reached over and put a hand on her arm.
She looked down at it as though I was diseased.
I guess I was. I pulled my hand back. “You don’t need to play games with people to get your way. You don’t need to pretend you’re something you’re not. All I was saying is that you’re a lot tougher and smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
“So you’re going to say nice things, so you won’t feel guilty because I just saved your life.”
“No,” I shook my head. “That’s not it at all. I still think you’re mean, ruthless, and vindictive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see your positive characteristics, as well.”
Murphy laughed loudly.
Freitag spat, “And you’re a reckless, egotistical cockroach.”
Murphy laughed again, “Zed the cockroach. This is some funny shit.”
“A cockroach?” I was offended.
“Because no matter what anybody does,” she said, “you just crawl out of the rubble like nothing happened.”
I thought about it for a minute. “So that’s a compliment?”
“If it makes you feel good to be called a cockroach, then yes.”
“Jesus,” I said. “If you hate me so much, why’d you help us?”