She laughed. “I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
“I dated a guy once who thought he was a real vampire.”
He took a deep breath and let out a rolling yawn. “I bet that sucked.”
She laughed. “I am not even kidding. I thought for sure I’d end up seeing him on the news someday and not for winning the lottery either.”
“Wow, sounds like a good guy.”
“Yeah, I dumped him pretty quick and he kept leaving single black roses under my windshield wiper.”
“Nice touch.”
“Right?”
Silence washed over them as they stared sleepy-eyed at the car’s smooth black upholstery.
“Hey Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
He hesitated. “We saved each other’s lives. We’re even.”
“Pfff, I don’t know about that.”
Another large yawn rolled out of his mouth and he closed his tired eyes, thinking about the ocean and what to do next. First, they would have to find a house. Board up the windows and doors. Get supplies. And wait. Wait to see how many of the damn things showed up. He saw them drift out of the fog at him. He saw Sophia’s grave in the dark. Dan and the pajama ZIP. Brock lying in the driveway. Cora wondering the night in bare feet. Matt and Mike with black eyes and blood around their mouths. Then he saw them reach for him.
Just before he fell asleep, he randomly wondered what Wendy’s last name was.
Soon after, ZIPs set traps for him with nets and weights in his dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, they were still alive. Unfortunately, losing Dan, Brock and Cora hadn’t just been a bad dream like he had briefly thought when he first pried his sticky eyelids apart. These days, nightmares and reality had a way of blending to the point where you weren’t sure which was which. He sat up and took a good look around, expecting ZIPs to be closing in on the car from all sides, but it was clear so he stretched and yawned.
The budding sunlight extinguished all of the monsters he had seen hiding in the shadows the night before. Real or not, they were gone now. The deserted fields surrounding the car gave no indication that anything was out of whack with the world. If you had just woken up from a long Rip Van Winkle-like nap, you would never even know anything had changed. Another peaceful morning cloaked the nightmare.
“I take it that wasn’t all some bad dream,” Wendy said thickly, sitting up in the back seat and scratching her blonde rat’s nest.
He shook his head. It was like they had plugged into each other’s dreams during the night. Sometimes in bed, just after shutting out the light, Sophia would suggest they try to meet up in their dreams. It had always made him smile. He loved the idea of it, but of course it had never worked.
Now he hated sleeping. Feared the revolting images and scenes that broke his slumber with such dreadful realism. Such intensity. Every morning he woke up feeling more tired and depressed than the day before. He guessed he was probably suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or the initial symptoms of it anyway, but somehow didn’t think counseling and Prozac were going to help. He was lucky to get more than three hours of sleep at any one time, but that was also all he was willing to invest. It was like Edgar Allan Poe had said, “Sleep... Oh, how I loathe those tiny slices of death.”
“Starbucks?” he asked, turning the key and letting the car warm up.
“I wish!” she said, climbing back over the bench seat.
White clouds of smoke rumbled out Shelly’s rattling chrome tailpipes while the smell of exhaust quickly camouflaged their body odor.
“Put your seat belt on,” he said.
An hour later, the ocean was a beautiful sight. When you haven’t seen it in a long time, if ever, the crest of that final hill revealing its infinite mass is breath taking. The morning sun scattered thousands of sun sparkles across the rugged waters while seagulls rode the frenetic air waves above.
Every time Paul had gazed out across those vast waters in the past, he had always wondered what monsters lurked just beneath its surface. Horrific shark attack stories - usually on Fox News - always regurgitated themselves inside his mind whenever he took his boogie-board into their domain. Cautiously, he would enter the untamed waters, his mind immediately playing tricks on him as the cool liquid rose above his knees. Shadows quickly became Great Whites. Seaweed turned into killer jelly fish. And schools of fish always seemed to be on the run from something bigger and badder following close behind.
Now, however, the Gulf’s waters couldn’t have looked more peaceful and welcoming. The monsters on the land behind them suddenly made the ocean’s creatures seem like that of a petting zoo. Anything looked better than back there.
He could hear Mike asking if there were going to be sharks in the ocean, and he dropped his head. Mike and Matt would have loved it here. They all would’ve.
He stepped on the gas and drove Shelly1 right onto a flattened stretch of beach, near Port O’Connor, Texas, and put it in park. He and Wendy sat there for a moment, then got out and inhaled the bustling, air. Sea gulls cried out overhead and began swooping by for a closer look, convinced the two may have already dropped some scraps of burgers or chips to the sandy ground. The brazen birds performed their acrobatic flybys, unaware that Wendy and Paul were busy trying to keep from becoming scraps themselves.
As far as their puffy eyes could see up and down the coastline, the beach was clear of walkers. Clear of anyone for that matter. It was chilly, but not that chilly, which made it seem so surreal.
They plopped down on the dry, packed sand. The swirling wind whisked through their greasy hair while the sun warmed their dirty faces. They sat cross-legged, taking it all in. Small waves crashed onto the beach, one after the other, exploding foamy spray into the whipping breeze. It was an amazing day. They had made it. Sort of.
“It’s so beautiful,” Wendy said, gazing out over the waters. “Everything seems so... so normal, outside of being the only ones here,” she said with a short laugh.
“I know,” he agreed, thinking how long ago Valentine’s Day now seemed, one of the last normal days on the planet. A day he had taken Sophia to a nice Chinese restaurant for dinner, where soft lights and a man playing mellow tunes on an acoustic guitar set a truly romantic tone. Snow had been lazily falling outside the restaurant on the street-lined trees, decorated with strings of bright white lights. She should be here with him right now, not some stripper he barely knew.
Wendy looked over at him and shielded her eyes with her hand. “What are you thinking about?”
He shook his head and tried not to look at the pink gun tucked in her holster. He turned his attention to a dock holding several large boats down the way instead, determined to keep the tears at bay. But the stinging wind and his past failures made it difficult. This was only part of the plan and without Sophia and Dan he felt unfinished and unsure of what to do next. Once they had escaped the cold, they had planned on figuring out what to do from here together. Now, he didn’t have a clue. He was too tired and just wanted to sleep. Sleep and not wake up.
Sophia’s letter floated through his weary mind. Keep making people laugh, keep living. He snorted and shook his head. That was impossible. They were only kidding themselves if they thought they had any chance of surviving now. Because when that big bright star at the center of the solar system above them went on break for the night, they were in trouble. Every night. They had barely made it when there had been five of them, let alone just two.
“Should be spring break here,” Wendy said, looking around the deserted beach. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “So, what now?”
He followed her gaze to some pastel colored beach cottages down the way. They looked nice but how long until they had another rude awakening in the middle of the night? Even if they boarded up all of the windows and doors, they would eventually find themselves trapped by
dozens, if not hundreds, of those hungry things. Then what? Two people could only fire off so many rounds at a time. He turned back to the ocean and didn’t answer. If God was still up there, he needed Him to deliver a sign and fast, because he was lost.
Keep moving, slipped through his mind.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” she said.
He turned to her and narrowed his eyes.
“I mean about not going back with you. If you want to go back to Des Moines, I’ll go. I’ll go back right now if you want to.”
He returned his attention to the crashing waves. The rolling explosions were loud enough to cover the languid steps of any approaching ZIPs, so he turned around and looked behind them to see the dusty Chevelle winking in the bright sunlight at him. The show car looked like it had seen better days. Just like them.
“Maybe when it gets a little warmer,” he said flatly.
She started picking up handfuls of sand, slowly letting the fine grains slip through her fingers. “Whenever.”
He still couldn’t believe it. Any of it. But yet, here they were. He imagined Sophia and Dan here with him like they should have been. At times, it would have been like an endless holiday with swimming and volleyball and sand castles and food and drink. At times, it would have been almost fun. But that was then and this was now. He knew better than to let his past interfere with his future. Somewhere along the line ya gotta stop looking back, after all look what happened to Lot’s wife. Although, she got off lucky. Turning into a pillar of salt was nothing compared to turning into one of those rancid things.
A high-pitched shriek went off in the distance like a noon whistle, swiftly grounding his daydream with a breathtaking blow. Wendy and Paul swapped glances. She took his hand and squeezed. It was dirty, but warm and soft.
He waited for a sign and wondered why the female things screamed like that.
He looked back to the funky colored beach houses down the surf. They could use a house on stilts. Something the dumb things couldn’t figure out how to climb while they were busy sleeping. If Paul hadn’t of woke up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night back at Brock’s house, they all would’ve died. He turned back to the newer looking boats. The larger ones probably had a small galley kitchen, bedroom and living room on board. They looked roomy, yet not overwhelming to operate - providing there was an owner’s manual on board. But the odds of finding keys seemed remote at best.
Wendy inhaled a deep breath of the salty air with her eyes closed and expelled it into the whipping breeze. “I still can’t believe all of this is happening and we’re here now,” she said, playing with her blowing hair.
Paul snorted. She was preaching to the choir.
Another scream rang out. This one sounded like it had come from a different ZIP. One much closer. He shook his head. Those things were everywhere. Even here. They’d never make it. Not just the two of them. They might last a week or two. Three tops. He checked behind them again. It was still clear.
Wendy scooted closer to him in the sand. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it didn’t work out so hot. She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the water rise and fall.
What was the point? They were doomed. God had forsaken them and they were on their own now, left to fend for their lives in a world not worth fending. It was stupid to even try.
“It’s so beautiful,” Wendy said again, determined not to let the distant screams stain her first visit to the ocean.
Sophia’s handwriting popped through his mind again. Help as many as you can. I mean it.
He looked back to the cottages and squinted. None were on stilts and they sure as heck couldn’t build anything better. He could barely fix a broken closet door. He turned back to the boats. They looked expensive.
He and Dan had a boat one time. He missed Dan. Dan would know what to do.
They stared out across the ocean.
With the sun on his face, the wind ran its nebulous fingers through his matted hair. It felt good. The sun gleamed off a boat’s window in the distance and made him wince. When he opened them again Sophia was standing there smiling at him. Clear as a bell. Like she was ten feet away. She nodded and his heart sank. She should be here. Then she smiled again and faded away, leaving him staring at the boats behind her.
He took a deep breath of the salty air and turned back to the houses. If ever there was a time to pick himself up off the ground and dust himself off, this was it. If he didn’t take a leap of faith now, he never would.
He looked over to Wendy and studied her while her eyes were closed, basking in the sunlight. She was his family now and the thought almost made him start laughing. He sighed instead. “You think they can swim?”
She cracked her dark eyelids apart and shielded them with her hand again. “I don’t know.”
“I doubt it,” he said flatly. “Like Brock said, they can barely walk.”
She shrugged.
“You ever been on a boat before?”
She followed his line of sight to the boats at the dock down the way. “Joe had a ski boat we used to go on all the time.”
“Joe?”
“My brother in law.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, getting up and brushing the sand from his rear end. “Let’s go.”
She glanced to the boats again. “Where are we going to find keys?” she asked, getting to her new sneakers.
“Hopefully in the pocket of the first dead guy we come across.”
She returned a blank stare as he made sure his gun was loaded.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The clouds rolled in quickly along the seaside, cutting them off from the warm sun. Wendy followed him onto the wooden dock, which was free of dead guys. Without permission, Paul stepped aboard a newer looking large boat with the words “Wine-N-Down” printed in large black letters across its rear end. He cupped his hands around his face and peered through a sliding glass door. It was perfect, with a living room under the helm and all. He grabbed the door's long handle and pulled. Locked.
"Let's break it," Wendy said, nervously looking around.
"It can get pretty cold and stormy on the ocean. We're gonna need the door intact," he said, looking for another way in.
"What about a smaller window?"
"I'd rather not break any windows. Trust me, it can get rough around here, and cold at night." he said, stepping back onto the dock. "Let's check some of the other ones before we break anything."
Wendy exhaled and followed him just as it began to pour. The beating rain drops exploded on the dock's planks with such tenacity it blurred the surface.
Her hair grew dark as she squinted at him through the falling rain. "What about breaking into some of those cottages? There might be some boat keys in one of em."
He glanced up to the spattering of beach houses, his legs suddenly feeling heavy. "That's a good idea. Let's check some more of these boats first though. Ya never know."
The rumbling clouds above rolled past with surprising speed, creating perfect shadows for a walker to sneak up on them. He brushed his hand against his holster and looked down the row of posh boats. Just about any of them would do.
"Let's work our way to the end," he said, staring at a boat sitting next to Wine-N-Down, called "AquaHolic" with a picture of a green fish holding a cocktail and a cigarette.
Wendy laughed. "Oh we have got to have this one!"
Then the dock began to tremble.
Their heads snapped down the long row of wet planks to the end furthest in the ocean to see a portly bald man barreling down upon them at an alarming rate of speed through the driving rain.
“Awe hell,” Paul muttered, drawing his sidearm and pushing past Wendy.
The man hunched over and charged even faster, like a rhino, causing the dock to shake harder with each resolute step. Wendy stepped next to Paul and quickly took aim with her gun as well.
Paul curled his finger around the trigger and held his breath. The gun shook with
each thundering vibration from the man's plodding footsteps, making it difficult to lock onto him. Paul tried to steady the weapon but there wasn’t enough time. They could hear his snarling grunts now.
At the same moment, he and Wendy unleashed five or six shots each. The man twitched and fell, nose-diving into the wood floor and sliding to a stop at their feet. Their hearts raced as they kept their guns trained on the crumpled thing. With rising chests, they watched the splattering raindrops mix with the blood beginning to seep into the cracks. Gradually, the dock stopped shaking.
Paul blinked water from his eyes and scanned the area again.
"Damn, that guy was fast!" Wendy shouted over the rain.
Paul cautiously approached the unmoving body.
Wendy tightened the grip on her gun. "Be careful. It's only a matter of time before these things learn how to start playing dead."
He stopped in his tracks and looked up at her.
She cocked her head at him. "Ya never know."
He turned back to the man and nudged it with his foot. Its belly moved like Jello as Paul's eyes traveled from the thing's frazzled blue pullover windbreaker to its khaki-green pants and white boat shoes.
“I’m gonna check his pockets,” Paul said, nudging the man again.
Wendy shifted in her stance as Paul bent over and started patting him down. He felt something in the man's pocket and looked up to Wendy.
"What?" she said wide-eyed.
He carefully reached inside the thing’s front pocket, expecting him to reanimate at any second, just like in the movies. Instead his hand reemerged with a red Bic lighter, which he pocketed. Wendy exhaled and moved closer. His hand went back into the man’s wet pocket and this time came back out with a floatable buoy keychain with the words “Wavy Gravy” printed on it.
“Bingo!” he said, quickly standing back up and stepping away from the man, who didn’t move, proving once again this was no movie.
COLD FAITH AND ZOMBIES Page 22
