by William Oday
But were his feelings for her genuine? Or were they just the needy grasping of a broken heart on the rebound?
Again, it didn’t matter because both were gone. Justine had gone to Los Angeles. She, like it, was probably nothing more than toxic dust now.
And Emily was probably lost at sea. Or sunk. Or murdered by pirates out to take advantage of the lawless world.
“Come on, man!” He punched the bed in disgust and the weasel bounded into the air screeching like mad. He landed on all fours with his tail erect and ready for an attack. “Sorry, buddy.”
He threw his legs off the side and was about to stand when a sharp set of fangs pierced his finger. “Ouch!”
Oscar looked up and bared his teeth, hissing.
Marco pinched the bitten pinkie. “I said I was sorry. Jeez.”
The weasel hissed again and then burrowed under the pillow until all that remained was a twitching tail. Then it too disappeared.
Marco shook his head. “You’re pushing your luck around here. You may just wake up someday and find yourself on your own. I’m just saying.”
A muffled hiss responded from below the pillow.
Marco laughed and felt a flood of tension drain out of his chest. The truth was that the weasel was now his best and only friend.
What kind of messed up life was that?
He shuffled toward the bathroom to relieve a full bladder. It took a minute to get going but then felt like it took an hour to finish up.
He went back to the bed, but then decided to stretch a bit before climbing back in. He reached for the ceiling and his back and shoulders complained from the abuse of the last several days.
Not to be left out, his feet were sore and his legs ached. He leaned over and touched the white tiled floor. The muscles in the back of legs his screamed like he’d run two marathons yesterday. He exhaled slowly, accepting the discomfort and dropping deeper into the stretch.
A painful pounding in his head made him cut the exercise short. Like a headache on steroids.
He stood up, rubbing the side of his head where the pain seemed to be centered.
BANG! BANG!
BANG!
Gunshots.
Not loud enough to be directly outside the hospital room door.
But definitely inside the building somewhere.
He scanned the room and located his unstrung bow leaning up in the corner. A quiver with several arrows hanging off the chair next to it.
In seconds, he had the bow strung, an arrow nocked and the quiver slung over his shoulder.
A chirp from the bed and he saw Oscar with his head poking out from beneath the pillow.
“Stay put. I’m going to check it out.”
Oscar wriggled out and leaped from the edge of the bed onto Marco’s shoulder. His tiny claws scratched across Marco’s skin as he found his balance.
“Can’t you ever listen?”
Oscar squeaked and nipped at Marco’s earlobe.
Marco eased the door open. Through the two inch crack, he peered down the hall toward the nurse’s station.
Strange.
Nobody was there.
There was always at least one person behind the desk and usually a few.
“You’re not going,” Marco said as he separated the weasel from his gown. Tiny claws broke free like a strip of velcro coming apart. He tossed the screeching weasel onto the bed and slipped into the hallway.
The door closed before the weasel made it back.
Marco kept close to the wall with the bow raised and ready.
Shouting in the distance made him freeze and swing the bow back and forth as he searched for a threat.
Nothing.
A nurse ran into the hallway coming from the ER. She screamed as she spotted Marco.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The white fabric of her shirt turned red as she pitched forward and crashed to the floor.
The man who’d shot her came into view.
Marco sighted the bow and let fly.
TWANG!
A second later and the arrow punched into the man’s body. He stumbled back, staring in disbelief at the shaft extending from his chest. He started to grasp the shaft and collapsed.
Marco nocked another arrow and hurried down the corridor toward the ER wing beyond. To where the few survivors from the bombing were being treated.
Screams and shouts echoed down the hall toward him.
He pushed through the double doors as more gun shots cracked and more screams followed.
He pivoted around a corner with the bow raised, sighted a man pointing a gun at a doctor and let fly.
The arrow hit him in the neck. The doomed man gagged and choked as blood poured out of his mouth. He spun around trying to grab at the shaft. He fell off balance and slammed into a nearby wall. The impact smashed the side of the shaft and tore his throat open.
He fell to the floor clutching at the crimson gushing down his front.
Marco had another arrow nocked before the doomed man realized an arrow was lodged in his throat. He pivoted further around the corner and spotted another man on the far side of the ER that he recognized.
The man threw open the curtain to a treatment bay, lifted his pistol and fired two shots at whoever was within.
Bullets pinged off the wall next to Marco’s head.
He ducked back into cover.
How did he know that murderer?
The metallic scrape of a curtain being thrown back was followed by two more shots.
He was murdering the survivors of the bombing.
Marco charged out of the hall with the bow raised and ready.
Shots fired and bullets punched through the air where his chest had been an instant before.
He sighted the man with greasy, stringy hair and let fly.
Another man carrying a rifle happened to step into the flight path and the arrow took him in the ribs.
He stumbled, clutching at his side while the man with stringy hair realized he was under attack.
He spun toward Marco and his black eyes flashed as he fired.
Marco dove behind a long desk and rolled to a stop. He had another arrow nocked and pointed at the corner where any second the man would show.
One shot to the eye would do it.
He waited with the arrow drawn.
And then he remembered the face.
That guy had been one of the contestants on Sole Survivor. What was his name? He couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter.
Wait.
Charlie.
Charlie from Tennessee.
He remembered because Charlie had asked him if he knew anything about training dogs. After Marco had said not much, he’d replied that it wasn’t so different from training any other beast.
And that had been the end of their conversation because it hadn’t taken any longer for Marco to realize they weren’t going to click.
So what was Charlie doing murdering these people?
The doors leading to the ER crashed open and Chief Stuckey barreled through. The pump-action shotgun in his hands went off a second later.
The wet sounds of mangled flesh hitting the floor the proof that he’d hit his target.
He racked the shotgun and fired again, cycling through several rounds before ducking back behind the corner for cover.
He looked down and saw Marco pinned down into the cover behind the desk.
Screams and gunfire filled the air.
Stuckey yelled to Marco. “On three!”
The upper edge of the desk blew off into fragments as a rain of bullets ripped through it.
Marco ducked lower and nodded.
Stuckey slammed several shells into the loading tube of the shotgun and then yelled the count.
On three, he shifted around the corner blasting targets right and left.
Marco pushed off and made it across to him.
They both took cover as a storm of bullets pounded into the opposite wall, sending fragments of tile
and drywall exploding into the air.
The avalanche of gunfire didn’t slow down.
Semi-automatic rifles. Hand guns. The deeper boom of at least one shotgun.
There must’ve been a dozen people firing on them from around the corner.
Stuckey grabbed Marco by the collar and dragged him back through the double doors and hallway beyond. “There’s too many of them! Come on!”
12
Marco followed close behind as the chief led the way out of the front entrance to the parking lot beyond.
They ran outside and over to a green truck with Kodiak Police spray painted in white on the side. The old beater must’ve been forty years old and obviously wasn’t a regulation vehicle in the fleet.
Stuckey pulled Marco down behind the tailgate and started shoving shells into the shotgun. “What the hell’s going on in there?”
Marco shook his head. “I think they were killing the survivors from the bomb.”
Stuckey’s eyes went wide and a shell dropped to the pavement. He hastily retrieved it and slotted it home. “Who’s doing it?”
“I’m not positive, but I think I recognized one of them. His name is Charlie. He was on the survival show I was on.”
The doors at the front entrance shattered from a gunshot and the crunching of footsteps over glass followed.
Marco peeked around the corner and saw more than a dozen armed men standing on the other side of the parking lot. Charlie stood in front of them all. Nearest to him on his right stood a huge man with a wild copper beard that looked like an animal clinging to his face.
Marco recognized him. The man driving the truck with the trailer and two four wheelers. The man who might’ve shot them were it not for Emily taking him out.
How did he survive those strange hunters?
The truck had crashed and Emily had pulled Marco to safety, leaving the man to his fate. It appeared his miraculous survival hadn’t come without injury though because a pale bandage wrapped around his head covered one ear.
“Red,” Chief Stuckey said in a voice seething with rage. “I shoulda killed him a long time ago.”
Another man carried a woman over his shoulder and stopped next to Charlie.
Red pulled the limp figure off and held her up with a single arm encircling her chest.
Charlie raised his pistol and touched the muzzle to her temple. “Chief Stuckey! I know you’re out there!”
Stuckey muttered a dark curse.
“Come on out and let’s have a talk. I think you and me could figure out a mutually beneficial situation.”
“I’m going to kill both of them,” Stuckey hissed. And I’m going to make it hurt for as long as possible first.”
“No?” Charlie shouted as he looked around the parking lot at the vehicles sporadically parked here and there. “Okay. Here’s my backup offer. Come out right this second or this fine deputy of yours is going to meet her maker.”
Stuckey started to rise, but Marco pulled him down. “Get down! They’ll kill you and you know it. That woman is going to die. There’s nothing you can do to change it.”
Stuckey gritted his jaws and bared his teeth. His face shook with fury.
But he didn’t make a move to leave.
“Okay, then,” Charlie shouted. “This is your decision.”
BANG.
The sound of a body thumped onto the pavement.
Stuckey’s hands shook as he gripped the shotgun so hard Marco wondered if he actually might bend it in half.
“You did that, Chief Stuckey!” Charlie yelled. “That was you. Now, the sooner you come around to my way of doing things, the sooner you’ll start saving your people.”
Marco grabbed Stuckey’s jacket at the shoulder. “We have to get out of here. If we try to take them now, we’re dead. It’s that simple.”
Stuckey’s eyes didn’t indicate he’d heard. They focused on nothing in the distance.
“Come on,” Marco said. “We survive this and we can come at them later.”
Stuckey still didn’t move.
Marco knew he would charge out of cover any second and take out as many of them as he could before they shot him down.
And as heroic a death as that might’ve been, it wasn’t going to help all the other people of Kodiak.
Marco grabbed Stuckey behind the neck and cranked his head over until their eyes locked inches apart.
“Don’t die for nothing! Too many people need you.”
The fog in Stuckey’s eyes cleared and he nodded.
“You ready to run for it?”
Stuckey nodded.
“On three.”
Marco counted it down and they both bolted at the same instant.
They dropped over the ridge and slid down the slick grass embankment as bullets zipped overhead.
They hit the street below at a run and didn’t slow down until they’d made it to the building across the street and had ducked around the corner.
They both pushed back against the brick wall and sucked in deep breaths.
Marco recovered and checked for signs of pursuit while the chief caught his breath.
The street leading to the hospital parking lot was quiet. It didn’t look like they were being chased.
“Marco,” the chief said through wheezing breaths.
Marco shuffled back to his side. “You okay?”
“Thanks for that. For stopping me.”
Marco nodded and left useless words unspoken where they belonged.
Stuckey squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with one hand. “That demon just killed Marjorie. She only joined the force this Spring. Had her whole life ahead of her.”
His chest spasmed as he coughed. “They’re all dead. Every last person on the force. All except me. How is one man supposed to protect this town from savages like that?”
Stuckey stared at the ground, shaking his head, dazed and murmuring to himself.
Marco didn’t know why he did it.
Some things didn’t require much thought.
Or explanation.
He faced the chief and squeezed his shoulders. “We aren’t gonna let that madman take this town. Are we?”
13
EMILY stood at the railing of the stalled fishing boat, staring out at the curtain of darkness coming their way. The edges of the approaching storm cut hard lines into the relatively lighter surrounding morning sky.
A gust of chill wind whistled over the rail, needling her face and stinging her eyes. She inhaled and the cold seeped into her chest.
Even with so many layers on, the wind managed to tunnel down to her bare skin and cause her arms and legs to break out with goose bumps. A spray of mist hit her lips and she licked away the briny water. The wind dried the moisture on her lips making them feel ready to crack and bleed.
She kicked the side of the boat and cursed. How long had they been stuck here dead in the water?
They hadn’t made it more than a couple of hours out of Kodiak before the engines sputtered, choked, and died. The crew had been working on it all through the night and into the morning.
What could possibly take that long to fix?
Did the engines melt down into puddles of metal sludge?
The one time she’d asked the captain for a progress update, he’d cast her a glowering look that made it clear he’d sooner throw her overboard than answer questions from the cargo.
The door to the interior quarters opened and a middle-aged man walked outside. He joined her at the rail.
She’d met him the night before. Another passenger like her trying to get somewhere. What was his name?
Erik. Erik Cox. That was it.
Said he used to be a history professor somewhere. Out east. Washington DC, maybe.
“Hey Emily, how’s it looking out here?” Tall and lanky and moving like a willow tree, he reached for the railing as the boat rolled over a big wave. “Whoa!” he said with surprise.
Emily gestured from left to right, from one en
d of the approaching storm to the other. “It’s coming fast. And I don’t like our chances if we can’t get this heap moving.”
He swallowed hard and adjusted his glasses. “What do you mean? You think we’re going to die out here?” His voice broke on the last word. A brittle crack that betrayed more than a little fear.
“Don’t listen to me. What do I know? I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Emily turned away before he could read the truth in her eyes.
“It’s just that I have a family I have to get back to,” he said. “I can’t let them down. I can’t…”
Emily took his hand in hers. She squeezed it in a reassuring way. “Hey, it’s gonna be—“
The door to the cockpit crashed open and Captain James stomped out. “Do you two have cotton balls in your ears? I been yelling up and down this boat telling people to get their survival suits on! And make sure yours has a survival kit in the chest pocket!”
Emily hadn’t heard a thing. Then again, the whistling wind out here made it nearly impossible to hear.
The captain threw his arms up. “So what are you waiting for!”
Erik raced toward the door to the crew’s quarters as a big wave hit.
The ship keeled over sending him skidding across the deck.
Emily managed to latch onto the railing as it hit. She held on with all her strength as the world teetered left and then right.
The captain stood his ground on the deck, riding the motion like a cowboy on a bucking bull. He leaped through the air and landed on an intersecting path with Erik.
He reached down and managed to halt his slide. A second later, he dragged Erik to his feet and marched him toward the door.
It opened and one of the crew jumped outside.
Captain James shouted something to him while pointing back at Emily.
The howling wind kept her from hearing anything. What had been infrequent gusts had suddenly grown in strength and duration. It now roared like a beast let loose.
Another wave hit and Emily lost her footing. She managed to cling to the railing and pull herself back up.
Captain James and Erik disappeared through the doorway as the remaining crewman made his way toward Emily.
The deck bucked and rolled, but he was equal to the task. He rode it almost as smoothly as the captain had a moment ago.
