As Mike, Jamal, and Travis crept up to the building, the door, which was slightly ajar, flew open and with a bang bounced off the opposite wall. A slight man came running out, waving his arms and yelling wildly. He had a hammer in his hand. Seeing the three, he ran at them, screaming in Spanish. Mike raised his M15 to his hip and fired off a burst. It caught the dark-haired man in the chest and knocked him back into the moving door. He hit the door’s edge with his back and came flying forward again. The three, avenging spirits all, opened fire and tore him to pieces. The small man spasmodically danced around and then fell in a heap at the open doorway.
“Another fucking maniac,” said Jamal.
They carefully entered the small building and spread out, guns at the ready. The center of the room was lit with candles. Three steps into the center, they froze.
“What the hell is this?” gasped Travis.
“It’s a torture chamber,” said Mike in awe. “Holy shit, it’s like something out of the Spanish Inquisition.”
He wandered over and looked at the tray of horrible instruments. As he looked down in disgust, he noticed a soft whimpering coming from the end of the room. He quickly got the attention of the two soldiers, and the three of them crept toward the darkened corner. There, handcuffed to an iron pipe running up the wall, was a bruised, naked man. He had a nasty cut across his forehead that was bleeding heavily into his eyes.
“No, no please,” he whimpered, trying to push himself into the corner of the room to escape the three. “Please, no more, no more. Don’t hurt me anymore! Please, God.” Tears mixed with the blood on his absolutely terrified face. He put his head in his arms, cringing and moaning, “No more, no more,” repeatedly.
Finding a key on the floor several feet away, they quickly uncuffed him and gently raised him up to his feet. They kept saying soothing words to him, telling him that it was over and that he was safe as they guided the trembling man out of the door. As they led him away from that horrible place, the men kept clinging to Mike’s sleeve. Mike was a lot bigger than he was, so he put his arm around the man and led him through the bodies and burning wreckage to the victorious raiders. Tommy and Carol had just walked up to Manny and told everyone of Bouchard’s watery fate. As the terrified man wouldn’t let go of Mike, Jamal and Travis told Tommy what they found in that building and how they had saved the man from a mind-numbingly horrible death.
Seeing Carol and Regina looking away self-consciously from the stark-naked man, Tommy sent Jamal into one of the houses to get him some clothes. Ten minutes later, Jamal came out with a pile of clothes that they sorted through until he found some things in which to dress the pathetic individual.
Manny came up to Tommy. “I count twenty-two bodies. With Bouchard that makes twenty-three.”
“A good night’s work,” said Tommy with satisfaction. “Now let’s head back and find out what those explosions were.” Looking at the pirates’ ex-prisoner, he said, “Bring him along. We can’t just leave him here. He’s been through enough.”
The group picked up some of the weapons and ammunition, and then they rapidly headed back to the boats that had taken them to this part of the island. They were finished with this killing ground.
They boarded the boats, carrying the bodies of Rich and Del, and then turned them around and headed back. Mike patted the man sitting still next to him on the shoulder. When he looked up at him, Mike said, “Don’t worry; you’re safe with us. We’ll look after you now.”
The man, still shaking and with blood and snot smeared over his face, nodded his head at Mike and gave him a small smile. “Thank you for saving me,” he said softly.
Smiling back, Mike said, “You’re welcome. It’s all good now. They’re gone. And you can start over with us.”
Looking back at the rapidly receding shoreline and nodding, Carlos Guzman said, “I certainly will.”
9
The parking garage in the Marina Palm Tower was bustling with activity. The residents were busy packing their cars with whatever food and water they had as well as some extra clothes. Only the basic essentials. Because Josh had lost his car in the condo fire, he would be riding with Steve. Steve let him take some of his own clothes, but because they were different sizes, not much fit. They had just finished getting everything in order and stepped out of the packed SUV. Steve had a Toyota, which he loved. It was bright yellow and stood out in a crowd. He loved that about it.
Mark and Ginger were parked next to him, and they had just finished too. Mark was about to close the hatch when Ginger came running up. “Wait, Mark. I have this,” she called.
He turned and saw her carrying a fancy wooden case. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she retorted. “This is all my good jewelry. I’m not just going to leave it all here. What are you, crazy?”
“Can’t you just put it in a bag or something?” Mark said, exasperated.“This was my grandmother’s jewelry box. It’s an heirloom.”
“It’s too big,” he countered. Reaching out to take it from her, she turned her body away from him.
“No,” she cried. “I’m not going to leave this. You bought me most of these; don’t you even care?” She started to get teary.
“Okay, okay,” he said, a beaten man. “I’ll put it in for you.”
Steve and Josh looked at each other and smiled. Both men were divorced, Josh just recently so. An unspoken oh boy passed between them.
Dan came walking up to them. “I’m all set. I think everyone else is too.”
“Great,” remarked Steve. “Are the tanks all topped off?”
Dan nodded affirmatively.
“Did anyone find any extra gas containers?”
“No,” Dan answered, “not a one.”
“Oh well,” said Steve, “we probably won’t need them anyway. We’ll take a last bathroom break, just in case, and get ready to go.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone was behind the wheel of his or her car. Steve and Josh were in the lead car. They stepped up to the closed gate and, seeing no zombies there, quickly raised it and jumped back into their Toyota.
Starting it up, Steve slowly rolled to the entry ramp, paused, and then went up to the street and turned left. Behind Steve and Josh was Luke. Following him was Karen, Ana, Max, Mark, Ginger, and Gail, with Dan bringing up the rear.
As they exited the garage and sped single file down the street, whatever zombies were roaming the vicinity turned and came after them. There were one or two newly turned, but the majority had been undead for a while. They reached the marina and park area, skillfully turned right, and headed toward South Flagler Drive. A number of zombies were wandering in the palm-filled park, and they started moving toward the oncoming car caravan en masse. There were a few vehicles either abandoned or wrecked in the road and along the curb, but not as many as they expected. They were just coming to the end of the grassy knoll where the park ended when a young woman raced along the lawn and started running down the hill, zombies in full pursuit. Steve could see her course would put her in front of his car. She was waving her arms and screaming, “Help me! I’m here!”
Seeing her hit the sidewalk and start into the street near a multicar accident, Steve started to slow down so he could intercept her. As she was clearing the wreckage, a zombie came out of the jumble of crushed metal and, tackling her, brought her to the ground. She was screaming and struggling with him as he bit her arms several times. The lead zombies that were in pursuit caught up as Steve’s Toyota neared. She turned and looked at him, reaching for the car. They locked eyes, her look pleading with him.
Knowing it was already too late for her, he stepped on the gas, not stopping but instead speeding away. The others followed him, cutting the arriving undead a wide berth. Steve knew that for the rest of his life, he would never get the look in her eyes out of his mind.
They made it to South Flagler without any more incidents. Weaving in and out of the now countless accidents strewn over the road, th
ey found the number of zombies had also multiplied. Some were trapped in their cars, pounding on the windows to get out, but an increasing number were wandering the road. All was going as planned until the wide road they were on connected with Okeechobee Boulevard. Where the two main roads intersected, the number of zombies doubled. Steve barreled his way through before the creatures could converge, as did the next five cars. When Mark started to make the turn, a zombie reached out and smacked his windshield as he passed. Momentarily startled by the ghoul, he looked away and jerked his foot down on the gas pedal. Mark’s Porsche shot straight ahead and slammed directly into a Buick Regal that was stalled, hood open, on the side of the road. Mark threw the transmission into reverse and tried to back out. He was able to disengage the two cars after a couple of tries, but steam was already gushing from his smashed radiator, and his right front tire was flat.
Gail, right behind him, saw this all happen. She pulled around and stopped ten feet ahead. She started laying on her horn to get Mark’s attention. His driver’s-side door opened, and he stepped out. The zombie that had smacked his windshield was on his way over. The creature had a twisted leg, probably from one of the many accidents on this road. His left foot, minus the shoe, was twisted completely around facing behind him. His left cheekbone was pushed in, giving half of his ravaged face a flat appearance. The teeth on that side of his face were sticking through his lip and cheek. The constant opening and closing of his jaws were shredding his face to bits.
Mark saw him and the rest of the undead closing in around them. Reaching in, he pulled Ginger over the console and out the driver’s-side door. She was screaming. Finally, they both were free and ran to Gail’s car. As Mark opened her door, Ginger yelled, “Oh no!” and skidded to a halt. Mark, halfway in Gail’s car, stopped and got out again to look for his wife. Ginger had turned around, and she was running back to the damaged Porsche. She climbed in and reached over the front seat. Struggling, she managed to back out, dearly holding on to her grandmother’s jewelry box. She turned and took two steps forward, smiling triumphantly, and yelled out, “My jewelry!”
As her husband yelled, “Ginger, run!” the mangled zombie reached her. He grabbed her, and she stumbled and dropped the box. It hit the street and broke open, and all the shiny gold and gems scattered on the pavement.
“No!” Ginger screamed. With the strength of the desperate, she pushed the zombie away and onto his back. Instead of running, she dropped to her knees and frantically started picking up her precious treasures. Mark, looking at her incredulously from Gail’s car, yelled out, “Noooo!” and started running to her. He got to her at the same time as the rest of the moaning, growling zombies. As they reached down for her, he jumped into their midst and started wildly throwing punches at anything near. For a second or two, it seemed as though he might actually get away with it. However, as the number of zombies increased from behind, Mark was pushed back. The back of his knees hit the kneeling form of his wife, who was still trying to save her baubles while babbling hysterically, and he went flying, ass over teakettle, to land flat on his back. Smacking his head hard on the street, he lay there stunned. The undead pressed ever forward and washed over the two like a relentless tide.
Gail, seeing Mark stop and then run back, got out of her car also. She ran back, yelling at the mass of undead, as if that would make any difference. Not realizing that her previous horn blowing had drawn unwanted attention to herself as well, she now looked behind her and found herself cut off from her own vehicle.
Dan, whose car was idling twenty-five feet away, watched this whole series of events unfold. Not quite knowing what to do, he started blowing his horn. He thought the new noise would distract the zombies long enough for Gail to make a run for his car. Gail looked over and quickly understood his plan. She started running past the shambling forms, but it was too little, too late. A couple of more recently deceased undead caught her less than halfway there. The growling herd fell upon her, grabbing and tearing.
Seeing Gail actually being ripped apart froze Dan in his seat. It was sickening, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. What did get him moving again was the sudden realization that all milky eyes were on him now. Between the undead and the two cars now blocking his path, he couldn’t get through to join the others. He threw the car into reverse, backed up, and made a K turn. With tires squealing, he quickly sped back in the direction from which he had just come.
Now way up ahead, the remaining five cars that had stopped to wait started up again. Grim and frightened, the survivors continued ahead on their journey. My God, they all thought, we’ve just about started and have already lost almost half of our members.
They dodged stalled wrecks and avoided clusters of grasping zombies. It was touch and go for a while. Five miles up Okeechobee, one zombie got too close and grasped the handle on Steve’s door. He had had to slow down to a crawl in order to get by a tipped-over delivery truck whose contents had scattered across the road. Steve had just made it through the maze when a big, bearded zombie with a stained and bloodied T-shirt grabbed the handle and smashed his hungry, yawning mouth against the front window. Steve hit the gas hard, and as the Toyota lurched ahead, the zombie fell, trapping his clenched fingers in the handle. They dragged that growling creature, which was hammering his other fist on Steve’s door, a quarter of a mile, until the slowly disintegrating body was abraded enough that the arm tore off.
They had left their condo building a little later than they wanted to, and the drive across West Palm Beach was more hazardous and a lot slower than they thought it would be. At one point, they actually had to pull to the side and wait. Two vehicles, the second a pickup truck, came barreling down across the street. Passing through the intersection ahead of Steve’s group, they had four men in the truck bed firing automatic weapons at the groups of zombies chasing them. The men in the truck were whooping it up as if they were at a county fair. As they sped out of sight, all of the undead marched in their direction. When the road became less crowded and passable, the group started up again and sped through the intersection and away from downtown. By now dusk had just fallen. In the dwindling light, they made it to Interstate 95. Two hundred feet in, they pulled up to an abandoned school bus. Steve and Max got out. They cautiously went to the open bus door. Luckily, there were no zombies anywhere close to them. Steve stuck his head in and peeked around the entry partition. Both men were armed with handguns. The bus was empty. As the two men climbed on board, they could see some scattered books and toward the back were several bloodstains.
“What happened here?” asked Max, carefully looking between all the seats.
“It looks as if someone, probably a kid, turned in the back of the bus. They must have stopped, and the driver got everybody out,” said Steve.
Max looked out of the bus windows. “All right,” he said, “so where are the children?”
“I don’t know,” said Steve, “and I don’t think I want to know.”
Finding the bus empty, they gestured for Josh, Ana, Karen, and Luke to enter. Climbing the stairs and looking around, Ana asked, “So what are we doing here?”
“I figured we would spend the night here and then get an early start again in the morning,” said Steve.
“Why in here?” Ana asked, staring at the bloodstains in the back. “What’s wrong with staying in our own cars?”
“Well,” mused Steve, “this is higher off the ground, so no passing zombies will see us here. Plus, again, we are all together.” Seeing her discomforted expression he added, “You are more than welcome to stay out there in your own car if you want to.”
“Plus,” Max added, “We need to stay here to see if Dan makes it. He knows we’re going to 95, and he’ll see our cars parked out there. We have to at least wait and give him a chance to meet us.”
As the six survivors settled in, Luke went back out to his SUV and came back with a little food and water. As a group, they didn’t have a lot left but were hungry after their ordeal. They
ate crackers and peanut butter, which they washed down with flavored water. The bus doors were now closed and barricaded with a suitcase Luke brought. They quietly talked and ate, each of them glad they were not alone out here. It was pretty quiet on the deserted highway. Every so often, they could hear the moans of the undead and once or twice the pop-pop of distant gunfire. The blackness of the night closed in around them.
Dan had backtracked his route and then tried to take other streets to get back to Okeechobee and to 95. He always seemed to choose roads that were either blocked by debris or crowded with zombies. He once even tried to take one of the bridges to Palm Beach itself. As he neared the entrance to the island, he saw a huge roadblock set across the road. He slowed and then stopped. Getting out of his car to take a closer look, a bullet cracked and put a hole through his windshield. He ducked down and yelled, “I’m unarmed.”
“Turn around,” a gruff voice answered.
Dan carefully stood with his arms raised. “Wait, I’m unarmed. I just want to get through then—”
A second shot put another hole in his windshield, making spiderwebs in the safety glass.
“Turn around,” the voice repeated. “The next one goes through you.”
Dan ran to his door and jumped in the car. Quickly starting it, he suddenly realized that he had nowhere to go. As he sat in the driver’s seat with the car idling, his eyes started to water.
A third shot tore through the windshield again, narrowly missing his head. Dan swiftly got the car in gear, pulled a fast U-turn, and then sped back the way he had come. Eventually, when the night had fully fallen, he found himself back at the garage entrance to the Marina Palm Tower. He pulled his car in and parked in his usual parking space. When he emerged from his car, three zombies that had entered the wide-open gate chased Dan all the way to the stairwell door. He just barely made it through, slamming the heavy metal door in the snarling creatures’ faces. He slowly trudged his way up the stairwell to his fourth-floor condo and then entered.
Pandora 2: Death is not an Option Page 7
