by Eden Darry
Meg watched as Lane looked down at the knife in her hand, then looked at Meg. Meg shook her head again.
“I’m sorry, Meg, but it was never a choice,” Lane said. She bent down and put the knife in the bag.
“Good, now kick the bag over here carefully. Don’t break anything.”
Lane did as she was told. She pushed the bag with her foot. “Here, take it. I hope it brings you nothing but misery.”
“Pick up the bag, Meg,” Wendy said and nudged Meg in the back.
“Me? You said you’d let me go if she gave it to you,” Meg said.
“And I will. In a minute. I kind of have my hands full right now. Pick up the bag,” Wendy said.
Meg bent down and picked up the bag. It was heavy and it clanged.
“Now, put the straps over your shoulders, Meg—and no funny business. Lane, I want you to call Lois out from under that car. We’re going for a little walk.”
No,” Lane said. Then she shouted, “Lois, you stay under there. Don’t come out.”
Meg felt a sharp pain in her lower back. At first, she thought maybe Wendy shot her, but the gun hadn’t gone off. “Jesus, stop. Ow,” Meg said.
“Pull another trick like that, and I’ll pull the trigger. Right on her spine,” Wendy said to Lane.
That was when Meg realized Wendy was truly serious. It wasn’t exactly that she’d doubted her before, but Wendy was…Wendy. She came into the bar every night for a glass of wine, and they made small talk. Everyone knew Wendy—she’d been in the town her whole life. Meg thought she was nice if a little dull. It just went to show you never really knew anyone until the shit hit the fan. That was when people’s true colours came out.
“Fine, fine. Just don’t hurt her,” Lane said.
“Lois?” Wendy called out. “Come on out, or I’m going to hurt one of your little friends again. You hear me, honey?”
Meg turned her head slightly to watch Lois slide out from under the car. The poor kid looked terrified. “It’s okay,” Meg said, realizing how much of a lie that was.
“Please don’t hurt them,” Lois said.
“As long as they do what they’re told—as long as you all do what you’re told—I won’t have to,” Wendy replied. “Now the gang’s all here.”
Meg rolled her eyes. She was really getting to hate Wendy Moon. “What’s your plan now?”
“We’re going for a little stroll down to Whalers Wharf,” Wendy said.
“What? Why?” Lane asked, hoping to stall for time but picking her own bag up anyway.
“You’ll see. Now move. Lane in front, Lois behind her, and Meg in front of me. If anyone so much as twitches, I’m going to shoot Meg,” Wendy said.
The four of them made their way down a deserted Commercial Street.
* * *
“Why are we at Whalers Wharf?”
Lane heard the confusion in Meg’s voice. She daren’t turn around to look at Meg, even though she’d been dying to do just that during the walk down here.
Lois was holding on to the back of Lane’s jeans, and every now and then Lane would risk reaching back to briefly squeeze Lois’s hand. The little girl must be absolutely terrified.
Lane didn’t want to look back at Meg, though, and do anything to make Wendy hurt her. It seemed Wendy was on a knife-edge. Lane hadn’t known her before all this kicked off, but she doubted she had been this unstable before. Something about the treasure, maybe.
Lane thought back to the hallucination she’d had earlier. Ivar Sigmarsson. He was rotten through and through, and maybe something of him had seeped into the treasure. Or maybe she was making excuses for Wendy. Perhaps Wendy was actually a selfish and cruel person.
Lane heard Meg again ask why they were at Whalers Wharf. They’d walked right past MacMillan Pier, where she would presumably take Teensy’s boat back to the mainland.
“Because it’s somewhere safe I can put you,” Wendy said.
“What do you mean?” Lane asked.
“Keep moving. Go on, all the way through,” Wendy said, ignoring the question.
They walked past the shops which flanked them on either side. Lane had been here before, for her tarot reading. Back when the biggest thing on her mind was getting Meg back. She shook her head. Funny how things turned out. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Just past the last shop on the right was a door with Bathroom written on it.
“Stop,” Wendy said, and they all came to a halt. “Okay, Lane and Lois, go in there.”
“Here?” Lane looked into a dingy public toilet. “You want us to go in there?”
“Yes. In there. Don’t test me,” Wendy said.
“But it’s dark in there. And it smells funny,” Lois said.
“I don’t care. Move,” Wendy said, and Lane heard Meg gasp.
Lane didn’t need to look around to know that Wendy had probably jabbed her with the gun. “Okay, okay. Just leave her alone.”
Lane reached behind her and took Lois’s hand. “We have to be really brave now, Lois,” she said. “I won’t let anything hurt you in here.”
“Okay, Lane,” Lois said.
Lane led Lois into the toilet and hoped that was true.
“Back against the far wall. Both of you,” Wendy called. Lane guided Lois backwards until her back touched the wall. She tried not to think about what might be on the tiles.
“Good,” Wendy said. “Now you, Meg. And don’t make any sudden moves. You know I’m a good shot, and I’ll drop you before you get anywhere near me.”
Lane knew it was the truth and prayed Meg wouldn’t do anything stupid. She watched as Meg came towards her. She put her bag down on the grubby floor and tried not to think about the last time it had been cleaned.
“Meg, up against the wall too. That’s right, well done. Take the bag off slowly,” Wendy said. “Put it on the ground.”
Now all three of them were standing against the toilet wall. Lane waited to see what Wendy would do. It didn’t escape her notice that this was a good position for a firing-squad style execution. If it came to it, she’d shield Lois with her own body. Meg would understand. Meg would probably do the same.
Lane had never felt so hopeless or unsure in her life. Should she charge Wendy? It was true Wendy could drop her easily, but Lane wasn’t small. She reckoned she could tackle Wendy to the ground even with a bullet hole in her.
Lane stepped forward. “Wendy, you don’t have to do this.”
“Get back against that wall. I mean it. I will shoot you,” Wendy said and raised the gun.
Lane swallowed and stood her ground. “We won’t give you any trouble—just let us come with you.”
“You should have thought of that before you decided to take my treasure. I would have let you come with me, you know.”
Lane moved over in an effort to shield Meg. “I’m sorry.”
“Too late, and I swear to God if you don’t move back against that wall, Lane…”
Lane held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” She moved back and stood against the wall.
“Now kick that bag over. Slide it along the floor,” Wendy said to Meg.
Lane watched as Meg shoved the bag with her foot.
In one smooth movement, Wendy picked up the bag and quickly swing the door shut, and Lane heard the lock turn from the outside.
Wendy’s muffled voice came from the other side. “This is the safest place for you. If the military don’t blow Provincetown to smithereens, they’ll find you and let you out. I left the key in the door. At least the zombies can’t get to you in here, and I don’t think they can turn keys.”
Lane jumped when Meg launched herself at the door with a howl of fury. “You bitch, Wendy. You goddamn bitch. How could you do this to us? To a small child?”
But Wendy didn’t answer. Lane guessed she was gone, on her way to the pier and then to Boston. Lane almost smiled.
“Hey, Meg, did you do it?” she asked.
“I did. Now all we have to do is figure a way
out of here,” Meg said.
Lane looked around the bathroom. Nothing was immediately obvious. The door looked too strong to break down, but she’d give it a go anyway.
Lane was so deep in her own thoughts, she was surprised when Lois tugged on her arm.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” Lane asked.
“Up there. Look.” Lois pointed to the ceiling.
Lane looked up. And smiled.
Chapter Sixteen
Wendy moved with confidence. The bag was secured on her shoulders, and she would not hesitate to use the knife inside it if the need arose. The bag was lighter than before, but she guessed some of treasure had been lost outside the Governor. Hopefully not too much. She wanted as much money as she could get from it when she sold it. As soon as she was safely on the boat, she’d go through it and do an inventory.
She half wanted to bump into Sigmarsson, as Lane called him. If only she’d known sooner about the knife’s power, she could have saved Teensy. That would be her one regret, she thought. But it wasn’t meant to be. She felt kind of bad about Meg and the little girl, but she told herself she’d left them somewhere safe. Another person might just have shot them all or left them to die out on the street.
Wendy had gone out of her way to take them somewhere safe. It was true that the military might nuke them, but that wasn’t her fault. She’d done all she could for them.
After years in this town surrounded by people who had no appreciation for her work, she was finally getting out. In a way, Wendy felt like maybe that treasure had been meant for her all along. It seemed strange that of all things to finally get her the life she deserved, it was treasure from a long-dead Viking. A people she’d been studying and writing about for years. She wrote her first academic paper on Thorvold Eriksson and the theory that he’d come to Provincetown. Now not only did she have proof, but she had the treasure right here in her bag. Treasure that was going to make her a very rich woman indeed.
When she’d first set eyes on the jewellery, she’d known immediately it was worth a lot. Not just for the value of the gold and silver but because it was a rare find. Some of the artifacts she knew would be sought after by museums and private collectors alike. There were some stunning examples and all so well preserved.
Wendy made her way across the parking lot at MacMillan Pier. She barely glanced up and was so lost in her own thoughts, she almost didn’t notice the zombies that had begun to gather behind her.
Wendy walked onto the pier and found Teensy’s boat slip. Tied up, just like she said it would be, was Dawn’s Crack. It was small but, Wendy knew, perfectly maintained. She took the bag of treasure off and put it on the ground. She hadn’t had a chance to properly look at it before, but she would now.
Before she could open the bag, Wendy heard a moan. Then another one. She looked up.
Wendy gasped. There were maybe thirty zombies, though Ivar Sigmarsson wasn’t among them. They had totally blocked off her exit back along the pier. Not that it mattered.
She leaned down slowly and started to untie the boat, never taking her eyes off them. They moved forward slowly, cautiously, as if they remembered their last encounter with Wendy and her group. Wendy stopped fiddling with the ropes. They were loose, but she didn’t want the boat floating off before she had a chance to get in it.
Wendy reached into the bag at her feet and felt around for the knife. Something didn’t feel right, though. Was that a fork? What the hell?
Ignoring the zombies coming towards her, Wendy pulled open the bag and looked inside.
Cutlery. Knives and forks and spoons and even a spatula. She screamed in frustration. Those cheating, lying bastards. They’d stolen from her. Taken it all. They must have switched the bags when she wasn’t looking.
At least she still had the gun. She’d find a way through this mob and get back to Whalers Wharf. She’d kill them all. Bullet to the chest for each of them. God damn them!
The zombies kept on coming for her.
As the zombies started to advance, Wendy pulled the gun from her waistband and aimed it at them.
She had maybe five shots. It should be enough to hit a few and save some bullets for the others and give her time to get on the boat. She figured she could sail down to Whalers Wharf and deal with them.
Wendy fired a shot at the zombie closest to her. Its head exploded yellow goo, and she felt a measure of satisfaction. But they were gaining on her all the time.
Wendy quickly turned and worked on the ropes tethering the boat to the dock. Damn, Teensy had tied them tight. Wendy pushed her fingers through a knot and tried to prise it loose, but her hands were greasy with sweat and shaking.
She looked up just in time to see the first zombie reach her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to get away on the boat, all the way to Boston. Wendy was meant to have a good life—she’d led a good life up until now. This just wasn’t fair.
The first zombie bit into Wendy’s arm, the arm with the gun, and she howled in pain. Her arm was on fire, and she watched as the blood splashed onto her shoes and soaked into the ground.
Wendy stumbled backward, and her arm lit up with pain again, as flesh was torn from it. Part of her arm hung out of the zombie’s mouth, and Wendy felt sick.
The next zombie that came was tall, and it bent its head and bit into her neck. Wendy beat at it with her fists, but it just kept on biting and tearing. The pain set off bright white lights behind Wendy’s eyes, and she prayed she would pass out before they bit her again.
She fell, half in and half out the boat. Something attached itself to her leg, and she heard and felt a crunch. Thankfully, she didn’t feel the pain because she passed out before she was eaten alive.
* * *
Meg wrapped her legs around Lane’s waist and pushed with her arms. The loose ceiling tile moved easily enough.
“Can you see how much room is up there?” Lane asked.
“Give me a second, Lane,” Meg said.
Lois had been the one to spot the loose tile. She might just have saved all their lives. If there was enough room to crawl through.
Above the tile were a whole lot of pipes and tubes. Also the beams they sat on didn’t look strong enough to hold a full-grown woman.
“Okay, let me down,” Meg said.
She enjoyed the contact with Lane’s body as she slid down the length of her to the ground. Probably not the best time to be thinking about that.
“Well? Is it a goer?” Lane asked full of hope.
Meg felt bad. “No, I don’t think so. The pipes are too low to the tiles, and I don’t think the beams would hold our weight.”
Meg put down the seat on the questionably unsanitary toilet and sat down. At this point, she had more to worry about than a few germs.
“I might fit,” Lois said.
“No, honey. It’s too dangerous,” Meg said.
“I don’t know that we have a choice, Meg,” Lane said.
“It’s not far to the other side,” Lois said. “I can jump down just like I did in my apartment when you found me.” She put her hand on Meg’s knee. “Don’t worry, I can do it.”
“What if Wendy lied about the key?” Meg asked. “What if she didn’t leave it in the door?”
Lane sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Meg, we’ve tried kicking the door in and it won’t budge. I think this is our only option. If there’s no key, then…”
“Then Lois is stuck on the other side by herself,” Meg finished.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Lois, it’s not going to work,” Lane said.
“Please let me try. If there’s no key, I’ll get a chair and boost myself back up. I swear,” Lois said and crossed her chest with her hand.
Meg almost smiled. Lois was so young. The idea of her being trapped on the other side without them made Meg feel ill. But really, what was the alterative? Sit in here and wait for the military to blow them up or let them out? And what if it wasn’t the military that came? What i
f it was Sigmarsson?
“Okay, fine. But promise me if there’s no key, you’ll get a chair from one of the stores and come right back,” Meg said.
“I swear it,” Lois said.
“Okay then,” Meg replied, feeling all kinds of guilty.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Lane said. “I’ll boost you up.”
Meg watched as Lane easily lifted the little girl up into the cavity above the ceiling tile. Lois wriggled into the space and then disappeared.
“Lois,” Lane called, “before you jump down, look to make sure there’s no zombies out there.”
“Okay,” came Lois’s muffled reply.
Meg went to the bathroom door, and the two of them pressed their ears to it. Meg could hear a thump and hoped it was Lois jumping down.
“You okay, Lois? Didn’t hurt yourself?” Meg called out.
“No, ma’am. I’m fine,” Lois replied.
In a few moments, they heard the lock scrape and click, and then the handle went down, and Lois was pushing open the door.
When she saw her, Lane laughed, whooped, and picked Lois up. She swung her around and kissed the top of her head. “Our hero.”
Meg ruffled her hair. “Well done, honey.”
Lois smiled and laughed. “See? I told you I could do it. My mom says I’m like a monkey.”
“And you are. You definitely are.” Lane swung her around one more time, then put her back on the ground.
“Okay,” Meg said. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Lane tried not to think about Wendy. It was true Wendy had left them to their fate and probably would have killed them if it’d come to it, but Lane felt bad nonetheless. They’d written Wendy’s death warrant.
“You need to stop feeling guilty, Lane,” Meg said.
“I know. But I can’t help it,” Lane replied.
“She left us for dead. She didn’t exactly leave us much choice.”
“True, but we aren’t like her. I’m allowed to feel bad about what we did,” Lane said.
Meg didn’t reply.
Commercial Street was quiet. Lane was relieved and worried at the same time. Earlier, the zombies had disappeared as if by magic. It was true she had the knife, but there was no guarantee it would work a second time.
