A ping sounded from the backpack. It came from her cell phone. Unzipping the outer pocket, Alissa pulled it out and checked. Paul had sent her a text more than three hours ago. Punching in her four-digit code, she opened the phone and read the message.
STUCK IN PITSSBURGH. SHIT HIT THE FAN HERE.
AM HEADING FOR THE CABIN. I ADVICE YOU DO
THE SAME. SITUATION OUT OF CONTROL. MAY BE
ONLY SAFE SPOT. IF YOU GET THERE BEFORE ME,
PASSWORD IS YOUR BIRTHDAY IN EIGHT
NUMBERS. GOOD LUCK AND TRUST NO ONE.
Shit, things must really be bad if Paul is telling her to meet him at the cabin. She had planned on heading there anyways. She only needed a way to get there.
Billy! With everything going down, she had almost forgotten about her brother stationed in Iraq with an engineering battalion. Alissa called up his number from her contact list and pressed CALL. No connection. She tried four more times. On the last attempt, a recorded female voice announced that all circuits were busy and urged she try again later. Instead, Alissa typed a text message.
I’M SAFE. MADE IT OUT OF BOSTON AND AM ON
MY WAY HOME TO NAHANT. HOW ARE YOU
DOING?
Alissa hit SEND. She slid the phone in her jacket pocket when it pinged. Pulling it out, she punched in her passcode, excited to hear from her brother. A redline enclosed her text message with a notification underneath stating MESSAGE COULD NOT BE DELIVERED.
Shit.
Pushing off the seawall, Alissa continued down the beach. She had walked for ten minutes when she heard an engine approaching from behind. A red Nissan Pathfinder cruised along the beach road. She focused on the occupants, an older man and woman who seemed safe enough. Stepping over to the curb, she waved her hands, hoping the couple would stop. She smiled as the Pathfinder slowed and the passenger’s window rolled down.
“Are you all right?” asked the woman.
“Yes. I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you.”
The driver leaned over. “Where are you going?”
“Nahant.”
“We can take you as far as the road leading out to Nahant. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.” Alissa opened the rear door, tossed her backpack inside, and slid into the seat.
“I appreciate the ride. I’m Alissa.”
The woman shifted in her seat. “I’m Darlene. This is my husband Tom.”
Tom waved while keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re lucky we found you.”
“Why?”
“Martial law has been declared. A curfew has been put into place for the entire metropolitan area from sunset to sunrise. The police have been threatening to arrest anyone out after dark and send them to a detention center.”
That explained why so few people were around. “I’ve seen a lot of people breaking curfew.”
“The police are overwhelmed,” responded Tom. “They’re only arresting those causing trouble or anyone that came out of Boston.”
“The Revere Police stopped us a few miles back,” said Darlene. “They didn’t hassle us once they found out where we’re going.”
“Where’s that?”
“To stay with our daughter and grandson in Gloucester. We’d rather be with them… just in case.”
“I understand.”
“We figured we go now,” added Tom. “By this time tomorrow, the state will be completely locked down. By the weekend, all of New England.”
Alissa’s mind went back to the incident at the Chelsea on ramp. An awkward silence passed before she asked, “How bad is it?”
Tom shook his head in frustration. “We stopped watching the news after the governor declared martial law and imposed the curfew.”
“It’s bad,” added Darlene. “The police and National Guard stopped the infected—”
“They’re looter and rioters,” Tom spat.
“—from crossing over into Cambridge and the North Shore but weren’t as fortunate to the south. They’ve spread as far as Brookline, Roxbury, and South Boston.”
“Jesus,” Alissa mumbled under her breath.
“That isn’t the half of it.” Tom reached the end of Revere Beach and veered off onto North Shore Road, crossing the small bridge that led into Lynn. Traffic here was as light as everywhere else. “The local news reported that riots were breaking out in other cities across the country. Damn social unrest is spreading. That’s why we’re heading to our daughter’s.” Tom took his right hand off the steering wheel long enough to reach into his jacket pocket and withdraw a .38 revolver so Alissa could see it.
They drove in silence along the Lynnway for the next ten minutes until they reached a rotary. Tom pulled over to the side and parked in front of a long road heading south. “This is as far as we go.”
“That’s okay.” Alissa opened the car door. “Thank you so much for the ride.”
“Our pleasure.”
Darlene reached her right hand into the back seat. “Good luck and God bless.”
Alissa shook Darlene’s hand. “I’ll need it.”
“Sadly, we all will.”
Alissa climbed out. Tom pulled away as Darlene waved. Alissa watched the car as it headed down Lynn Shore Drive and then turned around. The four-lane causeway ahead of her ran for a mile, paralleling the man-made beach connecting the shore with the island. She set off, looking forward to being home soon.
The walk gave her time to think. Rather than rehash everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, she focused on the serenity of her surroundings, an overpowering serenity. The waves lapped against the rocky foundation of the causeway, a sound she always found soothing. Few other noises interrupted the rhythmic tide. No cars traveled the causeway, which was unusual. Across the cove, the only sounds came from a woman’s scream, a gunshot in the distance, and a police car with sirens blaring racing along Revere Beach, its flashing blue lights eerily reflected off the water. The quiet had a calming effect, lulling her into a sense of security.
All that changed as Alissa approached the shores of Little Nahant. Several bright lights flashed on, illuminating her. She closed her eyes. A voice called out in a threatening tone, “Turn around and go back where you came from. No one is allowed in.”
“But I live here.”
“Nice try.”
“It’s true.”
The sound of weapons being readied came from behind the lights. “This is your last warning.”
“I live at 136 Willow Road.”
A pause. “Okay. Approach slowly with your hands above your head. And don’t try anything foolish.”
The floodlights went out. Alissa raised her hands and approached. As her vision adjusted to the dark, she noticed seven cars at the entrance to the island. Four blocked the roads on and off; the others were parked behind them, their front ends arranged to cover the gaps between the blocking vehicles to ensure nothing could bust through. When one hundred feet from the cars, she stepped over a string of spike strips laid across the road to blow out the tires of anyone trying to run the barricade. Three men dressed in civilian clothes came around from behind the cars. Two stepped to either side of the gap, holding semi-automatic weapons. The other stood between the front and rear fenders and used his hand to motion her forward. He made a show of keeping his right hand on the handle of his holstered sidearm.
“Let me see you license.”
“It’s in my backpack.”
He patted the hood. “Get it out. Slowly.”
Alissa slowly unzipped it. He motioned for her to stop and pulled the rear of the pack down, shining a flashlight inside before allowing her to proceed. Alissa reached in and rummaged around for her wallet. After a few seconds the realization dawned on her—she usually kept her wallet in the glove compartment of the Forester, which she left behind in the hospital parking garage. When she made eye contact with him, the panic on her face must have been evident.
“I’m sick of this bullshit.” He stepped back behind
the blockade, pointing to his two companions. “Send the bitch on her way.”
One of them picked up Alissa’s backpack and shoved it into her chest. The second grabbed her by the forearm and yanked her away from the cars, pushing her toward the causeway. Fear welled up inside her.
She had never been as happy to see flashing blue lights and the buzz of a police siren as at that moment. A Nahant Police squad car pulled up to the barricade and stopped. Two officers climbed out. As the younger of the two stood in the background, the other approached the blockade.
“What’s going on here, Johnny?”
The guy who had ordered her sent away became more subdued. “I’m doing what the chief asked us to. I’m making sure no one gets onto the island who doesn’t belong here.”
“The chief asked you to set up a roadblock, not form a God damn posse.” He moved between the two vehicles, forcing Johnny to back away. The two with the semi-automatic weapons lowered the barrels and stepped back several paces. The officer raised his flashlight, not into her face like an interrogation but enough to see her features. His eyes widened.
“Alissa?”
Alissa shaded the light from her eyes. “Nathan, is that you?”
“I thought you were trapped in Boston.”
“I barely made it out alive. In was on my way home when I ran into these….” Alissa’s gaze shifted between the three harassers.
“Jesus.” Nathan spun around and shined the light directly into Johnny’s face. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“S-she had no proof she lived here. The chief told us to make sure only residents made it back to the island.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole about it.” Nathan turned back to Alissa. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Did any one rough you up?”
Alissa stared at the two men with the semi-automatic weapons. They averted their gaze.
Nathan took Alissa’s backpack and swung it over his shoulder, then gestured for her to pass through the blockade. The other civilians gave them a wide berth. As Nathan passed by Johnny, he said, “You and I are having a long talk later.”
“Yes, sir.”
When they reached the squad car, Nathan tossed the backpack into the rear seat and opened the front door for Alissa. She climbed in and he circled around to the driver’s side. Before getting in, he motioned to the other officer.
“Mark, stay here with this bunch and make sure they don’t get into any more trouble. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Roger that.”
Nathan turned the car around and headed along Nahant Road. He did not talk on the drive to her house, which Alissa appreciated. She and Nathan had known each since they attended Nahant High School back when he was a jock and she was one of the brainy kids. Her friends told Alissa that Nathan had a crush on her but didn’t have enough courage to ask her out. They graduated and Nathan joined the police force while she attended an out-of-state college. She came back four years later with a nursing degree and a husband, the latter disappointing Nathan more than he let on. They remained good friends, often meeting for lunch or coffee, comparing war stories as first responders. When her and Paul separated last year, Alissa thought Nathan would ask her out. In fact, she had hoped he would. He didn’t and she never worked up the courage to ask him, each afraid of ruining the friendship.
Nathan pulled up in front of her residence, a two-story house on Willow Road overlooking Dorothy Cove with a view of Revere and, in the distance, the Boston skyline. He kept the engine running.
“Are you okay?”
“I am now.” Alissa squeezed his hand in a friendly manner. “Thankfully you were there to help me.”
“I can’t even begin to comprehend what you’ve gone through. All the local police are reporting it’s much worse than the news is telling us.”
“Trust me, it’s bad out there.”
“We can compare notes tomorrow.” An awkward pause. “Do you wa… need me to come in with you?”
“I’ll be fine. But could you wait until I get inside before leaving?”
“Of course.”
Alissa got out and walked up the driveway. Her house keys were still on the keychain left in the Forester. Paul always left his keys at home, so they installed an electronic lock for the garage. She punched in the security code and pressed ENTER. The garage door raised. She gave Nathan a thumbs-up.
“Thanks again.”
“No problem. Can I check in on you in the morning?”
Alissa smiled. “I’d like that.”
Nathan waved and drove away. Alissa watched until the taillights of his car turned the corner before entering the garage, lowering the door behind her.
Chapter Sixteen
Alissa entered her house through the garage entrance, stepping into the laundry room and placing the backpack on the washing machine.
“Archer, I’m home.”
No response.
“Archer?”
A crash of breaking glass echoed from the kitchen. Alissa tensed. A few seconds later, the patter of tiny feet approached the laundry room and Archer stuck his head around the jamb. His tail swished even though his yellow eyes had a dissatisfied glare about them. He meowed loudly, protesting that she had missed his feeding time.
“I missed you, too, asshat.”
Archer ran over and rubbed himself against her legs. Alissa picked up the cat and cuddled him. He leaned his head against her chest and purred. They hugged each other for close to a minute before Archer grew restless. She put him on the floor, patted his back, and headed for the kitchen. Archer followed, whining the whole time.
Alissa found three glasses smashed on the floor by the island.
“Cat, you’re asking for a beating.”
Archer stared at her and meowed.
Alissa went to the cupboard, withdrew a bowl and a can of cat food, and prepared Archer’s dinner on the counter. He jumped up and raced over, practically pushing her hands out of the way so he could eat. While he fed, she retrieved the broom and dustpan from the closet and swept up the shards. Only after she had cleaned the floor and refilled Archer’s water bowl did she take off the Gator’s hoodie and pull a plastic bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, drinking most of it in one long gulp. When finished, she pulled out a second bottle. She would tend to her wounds and take a much-needed shower in a few minutes. First, she needed a drink. Maneuvering around the island to the counter where she stored the alcohol, she thumbed through the bottles, mostly red and white wines. None of these were strong enough to dull the adrenaline rush flowing through her. Stepping over to the refrigerator, Alissa withdrew a bottle of Stolichnaya, removed a water glass from the cabinet, and headed for the living room, leaving Archer to his meal.
Dropping onto the sofa, Alissa kicked off her shoes, poured half a glass of vodka, and took a long drink. It burned going down, not that she minded. It made her feel alive. She refrained from turning on the television, needing to distance herself from reality. Swinging her feet onto the sofa, she reclined onto the cushions. Archer jumped up beside her, climbed into her lap, and settled in for a nap. She could use one as well. Maybe after a few more swigs.
Alissa’s mind began to wander. A nurse friend’s husband, a veteran of Afghanistan, had told her once that in combat you only had time to react and your mind stored the events so you could recall them later. Now she understood what he meant. As the alcohol relaxed her, Alissa’s mind replayed in detail the events of the day, from the outbreak in the ER until she arrived at the roadblock. It flooded her thinking, seeming unreal even though she experienced every moment. What her thoughts dwelled on most, and constantly returned to, were those people she had left behind. Courtney and Sophia on the roof of the hospital, whom she gave one Glock and two bullets to. Jim Brody, who she euthanized, and the other patients on the fourth floor she left to be eaten. Doctor Edwards who asked her to take the blood samples and whom she did nothing to save. Marjorie and the
others in Labor and Delivery who died because of her incompetence. John and Maria from the pizzeria, who she allowed to go back into the city to rescue her mother. The students and teachers she left behind at the school, lying to them about help being on its way. The police officer on the Tobin Bridge who she could not hold on to. People she should have helped. People she all but killed. Every time they crossed her memory, Alissa took a drink of vodka, hoping to drown out their image. It did little good. Guilt wracked her. She had taken an oath to do no harm. Instead, she allowed all those people to die so she could escape, so she could make it home safely. Those faces would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Alissa lifted the glass to her lips only to find it empty. She could have leaned forward to refill it, but that would have disturbed Archer. Instead, she laid back on the cushions, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Sunlight streamed through the window and landed on Alissa’s face, making it difficult to sleep. Of course, that did not bother her as much as Archer standing on her chest, his nose two inches from hers, meowing incessantly. She tried to ignore him despite the fact the noise sounded like a freight train, aggravating the headache she already had from her hangover. When she refused to open her eyes, Archer began tapping her nose with his paw. Giving in to the inevitable, Alissa opened her eyes, squinting at the light. Archer stopped harassing her. He walked farther up her chest, lowered his head, and rubbed his forehead across hers. Alissa reached up with her right hand and petted him. The cat closed his eyes and purred.
“You’re an asshat, but I love you.”
Archer meowed, almost as if he understood her, and jumped onto the floor.
Alissa tried to stand, not knowing what bothered her more, the pounding headache, the dry mouth, or the dullness that weighted down her stomach. She picked up the empty water glass, only then realizing how much she had drunk and feeling lucky she only felt this miserable.
Nurse Alissa (Book 1): Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies Page 9