“Tacos?” he said, reading the side aloud.
In all his time eating various MREs, he had never managed to come across a taco one.
He wasn’t sure, but the stuff he was eating looked an awful lot like the stuff he had seen splash into the water all morning. He ate it anyway.
Calories were calories, even if they did look like zombie brains.
It was as he was eating that he first noticed an unforeseen issue.
His work this morning had caused the dead to pile up under the water. It was getting so crowded down there that other dead were able to make it further out. Not only that, the…debris floating under the water was getting pretty thick.
Cam wasn’t an expert on boats, but he didn’t think the prop would do so well spinning in the equivalent of human jelly.
He needed to back out and do some shooting for a bit.
He only had five spare mags, so he loaded those with the .223 rounds from the can and started target practice. He started off sitting and resting the barrel on the side of the rail.
Heads burst in sprays of gore, coating the beach in viscous, rotting body fluids. One by one they fell, and after a couple of mags, he moved to standing position. He enjoyed the challenge of timing his shots with the movement of the boat.
He steadied his breathing and fired round after round, sometimes alternating rifles.
He was getting back into the groove, even though he hadn’t had a chance to shoot in over three weeks. He felt better than he had in several days.
They should be able to get out of here and go on supply runs again soon.
◆◆◆
It was after lunch by the time Cam cleared the beach entirely.
He stopped shooting as the last corpse fell. He couldn’t begin to count the numbers of fallen dead. He had switched firing hands, so now both trigger fingers were sore.
It was great.
He used an oar to carefully bring the boat to shore. He strapped on the waders, double checking for holes, and grabbed his weapons. He tucked the radio into his chest pocket and stepped down into the shallow water.
Except it wasn’t water.
Cam’s foot sunk heavily into a busted open skull cavity. He could feel the sun-warmed cranium squish under his foot. He lifted his foot and dislodged the skull.
Striding forward, he reached dry land.
Drier land.
He picked his way through, but most of the time he had no choice but to step in some very unsavory things.
He made his way to his SUV.
The army of dead things had left it a disgusting mess, and everything up to shoulder height was covered with a thick layer of dried blood, flaps of skin, feces, and various random bodily tissues.
He shook his head at the sheer volume of corpses that lay scattered around their parking area. At the very least, maybe it would deter people from ever wanting to come here.
He walked around to the other side of the moving truck, scouting the vicinity, and making sure no other threats right then. He walked down the road a little, pausing to look back toward the island.
There was a low rustling of branches nearby.
He spun, raising his rifle.
The woods were heavily shaded by the canopy overhead. A flock of birds screeched loudly and took flight behind him. The rustling grew louder, and he slowly started backing away toward the parking lot, and the safety of the boat.
Unexpectedly, a small group of dead appeared to his left, completely silent on the mossy floor of the woods.
One especially fast one lunged for his arm, grabbing hold and pulling viciously with his hands. The rotting corpse’s mouth gnashed wildly as his arm was drawn within biting distance.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted as he pushed away the zombie with all his strength.
His muscles were fatigued from hours of shooting and chopping up this one’s brethren, and his arms needed rest.
He heard a deep growl in his ear.
The rotting stench of death obstructed his nose. A hand reached from behind and tangled in his hair, jerking his head back violently.
“You fucker!” he yelled as he pulled the axe up and over, nearly hitting himself in the face.
He bashed the zombie in the face just as its teeth scraped against the back of his neck. It fell to the ground and began reaching for Cam’s feet.
Cam leaned over and breathed hard for only a moment before sprinting forward.
He dodged two of the dead advancing from the left and turned hard to the right. His boot caught an uneven rut in the gravel, and he fell hard to the ground. The waders tore across the knees, and he felt blood seeping from the wounds.
He grunted as he pushed harder, sprinting faster than ever before.
He heard the scraping of flesh on the pavement, and knew they were tracking him. They wouldn’t stop while he was in sight. He could outrun them for a short time, but they could outlast him.
He had to make it to the boat.
He pushed against the slippery corpses piled on the ground, losing traction several times.
If he went down, he would most likely get infected. He had so many open wounds ripe for the infection to spread.
He used his arms as he pressed on, a balancing act on the very edge of death.
The boat rocked gently nearby, so close. His breathing was ragged, and his lungs felt close to bursting. He felt sick and lightheaded. He couldn’t quit.
He had no choice but to splash through the contaminated water to get to the boat. He felt trickles of the warm lake water, teeming with infectious bacteria, enter the bottom of his waders. He had to jump before they filled up and carried him down.
He’d probably never come back up if that happened.
He jumped and used the rest of his strength to push his body up and onto the boat.
He lay on his back, sucking air into his lungs and attempting to push back the vomit rising in his throat. He turned over, rested his cheek on the deck, and looked toward shore.
The dead were coming.
“You fuckers didn’t get me today,” he murmured under his breath with a laugh.
Once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop. If they were watching from the shore, they’d probably question his sanity.
When he had gained the strength to push himself up to a sitting position, he reached over the side and pulled up the anchor. He started the boat and carefully backed out toward open water. When he was far enough out, he turned off the engine and allowed the boat to drift.
Uncapping a bottle of alcohol, he poured half over his hands and arms. His hands burned from the open scrapes on his palms. He knew his legs would be worse.
He stripped off the waders and inspected the damage. Large punctures and gashes across his knees leaked blood onto the deck. If the world was normal, he’d probably be sitting his ass on a gurney and getting a couple of layers of stitches. He gritted his teeth and prepared himself.
He dumped the rest evenly over both sides.
“Shit!” he gasped aloud, voice echoing across the water. Tears leaked from his eyes at the incredible, overwhelming burn of the alcohol. He sat down and leaned his head against the side, closing his eyes tightly.
“Stop being such a fucking girl, stop being such a fucking girl…” he repeated over and over in his head.
Eventually, the burning subsided.
His earlier killing spree— rekilling spree? —and the subsequent fights and sprinting had done him in. He scooted to the rear of the boat and chugged down an entire bottle of Gatorade.
Letting his stomach settle, he drifted for a while, both in body and in mind.
Angie
Angie’s eyes drifted open again.
She was at the new place. The island. She wasn’t in the store any longer.
Every time she woke up, she had to remember that she wasn’t chained up anymore. The dreams constantly replayed every time she fell asleep.
She brought her hands up to her neck, grasping for the weigh
t of the chain. There was nothing there. The sensation of weight came from within. Her throat felt large and strange.
She turned her head to the side and squinted at the bright sun that shined through the parted curtains. She could hear the birds chirping, and she could see trees bending in the slight breeze.
She was safe.
But was she really?
She turned to the other side. The room was empty. She knew that sometimes Cam would lay next to her, but she never had the energy to stay awake for long. Now, she really looked over the room for the first time.
It was beautiful.
The walls were polished wood, glossy and dark. The floor had a plush rug beneath the large bed. There was another room through the doorway, and the bathroom to the right.
She needed the bathroom badly. She vaguely remembered going before, but it was too hazy to recall with any clarity. The drugs they’d been giving her must have been really potent.
She moved her legs and arms, testing them. Her arm was injured again. She rolled to her side and hissed at the pain in her ribs, definitely broken. Again. She took a careful deep breath and let it out.
She really needed the bathroom, and there was no way she could get up alone.
She heard voices from somewhere else within the lodge. It sounded like Ed.
“Ed!” she attempted to shout.
She failed. Her voice came out as a strangled whisper and felt like sandpaper.
Water, she needed water. She looked over to the nightstand. A vase sat there, empty. She scooted, inch by inch, to the edge of the bed.
She paused at the edge and rested. Then she turned her head and reached out her good arm. She snagged the bottom of it and pulled, until it rested on the edge of the table.
She pushed hard.
CRASH!
The vase hit the floor with loud bang and shattered. If that didn’t bring them up, nothing would.
It was only seconds later that she heard thudding of heavy footsteps in the hall. Jim appeared in the door, followed closely by Ed.
“Angel, what happened?!” he shouted and ran toward her. He whirled all around, looking in every direction for danger.
“Nobody could hear me,” she whispered. “I need water and a bathroom.”
Ed let out a chuckled and left the room saying. “Glad to see you feeling a little better Angie, we missed you around here.”
“God, I’m sorry! I was with Nick for a while, and I didn’t want to come in here and wake you.”
He kissed her hand softly. “Next time we’ll get you a bell, okay? No need to go breaking all the vases,” he said, pretending to be serious.
She smiled. “Can you get me to the bathroom now?”
He stood and brought her upright. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, letting the dizziness subside before testing her legs.
When she first stood, her legs felt so weak.
She never remembered feeling so weak before. Not even after Dale…
Jim supported her as she shuffled to the bathroom. Fortunately for her, there were handrails next to the toilet.
“You need me to stay?” he asked, concerned. “Or I can get Jess.”
“No thanks. I’ll just knock on the wall when I’m finished,” she said. She put a hand to her throat and winced at her ragged voice.
He left the room, and she was finally able to go. The relief was immense.
When she was finished, she flushed and used her good hand to lift herself and move to the sink. She turned the water on and reveled in the warmth of the water.
She felt so dirty, and her hair was greasy and full of dirt. She studiously avoided looking in the mirror.
She moved and knocked on the wall near the sink and Jim came back in. He rushed over and took her hips.
“Easy. Just go slow,” he advised.
She didn’t know what he was talking about, slow was her only speed.
“I need a bath in a bit. I really smell!” she said, wrinkling her noise.
“Yep. You do,” he said cheerfully.
She lightly tapped his arm, the best she could do under the circumstances.
She made it back to bed and Jim brought her water.
A woman, Jessica if she remembered correctly, came up a little while later and helped her with a bath, and she actually got to wash her hair!
She felt like a new woman, sort of. Jessica changed her linens and helped her dress before tucking her back in.
She fell asleep immediately. Her dreams were better this time.
Chapter Five
R&R
Jim
Jim sprinted through the trees, heart racing. His blood pounded through his veins.
He watched for obstacles while he pumped his arms harder, forcing his burning legs to move faster. He breathed in for the count of three and out for the count of three.
His quick recon through the woods behind the lodge had turned into a sprint. The exercise felt wonderful after being cooped up so long. He hadn’t gone so long without a run since he was a kid.
Judging by his pace and his effort, he had completed about three miles, winding his way through various trails in the woods.
He had a pretty good feel for the lay of the land and could comfortably map it out when he got back. He slowed to a walk and enjoyed his time alone in the woods. It was one of his favorite things to do.
He turned sharply as he heard a rustling behind him. Eyes scanning expertly, he saw nothing out of place.
He remained motionless for a moment.
A twig snapped. That was no animal.
He pulled his pistol and took cover behind a nearby oak tree, carefully concealing as much of his body as he could.
He waited, catching his breath.
A voice spoke, breaking the silence.
“Are you going to stay there all day, Jim?”
Monica stepped out from behind a tree, still half shadowed by the canopy. She walked closer and he saw that she was nearly naked, wearing only a bra and a tiny pair of underwear.
Very see-through underwear. She was soaking wet.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked incredulously.
She smiled and shook her head back, causing her breasts to jiggle.
He knew she did it on purpose. He knew the type of woman she was.
“I went swimming over on the far side of the island, away from prying eyes,” she said suggestively. She looked down his body.
“We can go back if you want. You look like you could use a swim.”
Jim knew what she was implying, and it didn’t have anything to do with swimming.
He watched her warily as she walked closer. When she got within a few feet, she released the clasp on the front of her bra. Her breasts bounced free.
No tan lines, he noticed.
“Monica, you need to stop. There can’t be anything between us anymore.”
He averted his gaze as she drew closer.
She put her hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“We can do it just the way you like…” she enticed.
She reached down to the waistband of his shorts, and he quickly backed away before she could touch him.
“Don’t. Don’t do this Monica. It’s over for good,” he asserted.
“Is it Angie?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He didn’t answer. It was none of her business.
“Is she in love with you too? Is that why she sleeps with Cam? Because she loves you so much?” she taunted.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied angrily.
He turned and walked away.
“No? You think she would be so understanding of you if you fucked me?” she asked.
She smiled wickedly and walked up to him. Before he could stop her, she brushed his cheek lightly with her hand.
She pulled away before he had to remove her, and donning her shirt, walked to the lodge.
He lowered his head, hands on his hips, and
let out a breath.
He resumed his walk back to the lodge, taking the kitchen entrance instead of following her. Cam was right.
Damn it.
Angie
Angie saw it all.
Jessica had come to help her sit up and eat a bowl of soup. She had laid a beautiful place setting out on the table near the window. Angie was enjoying being out of bed for a bit. She had finished her soup and settled back in her chair to wait for Jess to come back.
She saw straight through Monica and her attempt to manipulate Jim. She knew what Monica had attempted to do. It was obvious. It made her feel bad for keeping Jim tied to her with her omissions.
The truth was that she knew for sure that she loved Cam. She was also extremely distressed to find that the thought of Jim with another woman hurt. She couldn’t have them both. It wasn’t right, and it wouldn’t be good for any of them.
She was going to have to sort out her feelings for Jim, and fast.
“How was it?” Jess said, she smiled brightly at Angie and sat at the table across from her.
“It was great. Thanks,” she said.
Her face fell suddenly, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
It wasn’t just Monica. It was everything. Everything was catching up to her, and she was so tired…tired of hurting, tired of the pain.
“Hey, what’s wrong?!” Jess came and crouched down near her chair, gently patting her back.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired of being in pain. I just want to be myself again,” she said, wiping her eyes and sniffing.
“You’ll be good as new soon. Don’t worry! Anyone would feel the same way, Angie. Don’t let this get you down. I’m sure Cam will be back soon, and he’ll be happy to see you up,” Jess offered. “Do you want me to get Jim?”
“Jim…” Angie said shaking her head. “Did you know that Monica just stripped naked and tried to seduce him? Right here! Under my window!” she said, gesturing with her thumb.
Refuge From The Dead | Book 2 | Dead Summer Page 5
