by Matt James
“Is that—?”
“Yes,” I interrupt, “it’s me.”
“And up there, it that—?”
“Yes.”
Looking behind me, I realize that Jimmy isn’t having the same issues as I am. His snake half grips into the tile roof with no ill effects. It means that he’ll more than likely get to me before I can…do what exactly? How the hell am I going to get down?
I recall the top of the waterpark tower being broken. From above, I bet it looks similar to a stairway’s landing. The main problem with that is I’m a good amount higher than it. If I decide to jump for it, it’ll really, really hurt.
No choice…
I lay out my idea and get three voices yelling back at me to stop. Jill and Andy have added themselves to the conversation. I don’t argue with them, though. They’ll do as I say.
I’m not stopping.
The third-floor roof merges with the peaked waterpark roof. There’s nothing but a strip of metal beneath a thin layer of snow to greet me. It’s a part of the framework that holds the glass in place. It’s maybe a foot wide at most. Luckily for me, most of it has been cleared off by Jimmy during his travels. The only thing left is what has fallen within the last couple of hours.
Holding my bow out in front of me, I don’t do as you’d expect, I don’t jump from one roof to the other. Instead, I shove forward and skate along the metal partition between angled panes. Teetering back and forth like a circus performer, I get twin looks of surprise from Cooper and Jerry as they fully emerge from behind an air handler.
A roar announces Jimmy’s arrival, and I shout for Jerry to take action.
“Blow the roof, now!”
22
As soon as Jimmy slithers onto the solidly built window frame—seriously, it doesn’t even creak—it falls out from beneath my feet. The detonation instantly takes out the mounts attaching frame to hotel. Now, with nothing holding it aloft, the entire glass and metal structure collapses.
Along with the Jimmy-snake and me.
What I noticed before I made this incredibly dumb decision, was that the metal strip lined up perfectly with the middle of the waterpark, as well as its central tower. If the designer had decided to move it a couple of feet to the left or right, I wouldn’t have had a shot in hell at hitting it.
And boy, do I hit it.
I toss my bow aside—toward Jill and Andy, who are safely tucked under the substantial part of the ceiling just inside the southern hallway. My momentum, similar to my rooftop experience, carries me forward and down until I slam atop the landing leading up into the highest of the waterless waterslides.
My Kevlar vest takes the brunt of the blow, and I roll onto my back, entering the tunnel slide on my back. I’m covered in a soft layer of snow, and so is most of the slide itself. The tunnel is bright green but turns a darker shade as something above me blots out the afternoon sun.
I realize what it is just in time and tuck my legs into my chest. A colossal form crashes through the slide and tower above me. The tunneled slide is torn apart with me still in it. I lash out with my hands and feet and come to a screeching stop.
Me…and the eight-foot section of tunnel slide…drop like a bomb, bouncing and rolling in every direction possible. Gunfire erupts all around me, but I can’t help—not until I stop and am properly birthed. I hit what must be the ground and go rolling. My sore left shoulder gives out, and I lose my bracing against the hard-shelled slide. Now, I’m like a pair of shoes in a clothes dryer.
After three more spin cycles, we collide with something and stop. Which way is up, and which way is down, I have no friggin’ idea? It’s probably because my brain is still spinning, along with my stomach. I think I’m past the point of throwing up, and that’s good. I’m not sure I could get up quick enough to not puke on myself. So, I wait for the world to quit turning and do nothing else but lay there.
The others are still engaging Jimmy, and it’s good to hear the three voices of Jill, Andy, and Cooper screaming through my radio. I can’t tell if Jerry is still alive, or if he’s just the calm and quiet type while in battle. One weapon is much louder than the rest. If I had to guess, it’s Cooper’s powerful FN Special Police Rifle.
“Turn him around!” Cooper shouts.
“Trying!” Andy yells back.
“Where’s Frank?” Jill asks.
It dons on me. No one would’ve seen me miraculously escape Jimmy’s Abaddonesque impact. I can imagine the scene as shit went flying in every direction. So, I lift a shaking hand and activate my radio.
“Mrs. Moon…” I mumble.
“Oh, my God, Frank!” she shouts, sounding relieved. “Where are you?”
I groan and chuckle. “Still in the slide.”
“Which one?”
“Uh…a green one?”
She curses under her breath. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
I kick at the bright green ceiling above me over and over again. Each impact is feebler than the one before it. After six strikes of my boot, my leg falls limp. I’m so close to slipping into another blissful state of consciousness. But I don’t. I hear someone enter the slide at my feet and pull.
“How the hell…are you still alive?” she asks, grunting as she drags me to freedom.
I blink when my face is assaulted by the sun. Then, a familiar face slides into view and blots it out. I raise a shaky hand and lay it on her cheek, and lovingly rub it with my thumb. She holds it there for a few moments, leaning into it harder.
“Help me up, will ya?” I ask, feeling an eighth wind come to me. Jill has that effect on me sometimes. Her love makes everything better. I’d be lost without here, probably long dead back in Manhattan.
I happily see that she has my bow on her back. I still have my quiver of arrows and boy did they make my heatless dryer cycle more uncomfortable. I had to have broken a couple. If I didn’t, there’s no way there isn’t some higher power watching over me.
Jill helps me to my feet. I feel okay, but staying on them isn’t so easy. Somehow, I actually feel pretty good. I’m just really tired, most likely concussed…again…times three. If I keep up this rate of head injuries, I’ll be drinking all my meals through a straw.
Woozy, I gladly lean on Jill and take in the commotion, or should I say, the lack thereof. Jimmy is on his back, still tangled in the scrapheap that was the waterpark tower. His garbled breaths are short and shallow. A piece of bloodied steel is protruding from his side. Apparently, when he crashed through the tower, parts of it held in place enough to punch straight through him.
The gunfire I heard earlier tells me that he was fighting back, though. He’s riddled with gunshot wounds too. Bleeding both yellow and red plasmas.
“Drones?” I ask.
Jill shakes her head. “Only a couple. We haven’t seen many since he’s been like this.”
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it sounds like the only thing we’ll have to worry about now is the standard, every day Unseen. Even if there’s still a few of Jimmy’s minions out there, anyone who can sort of handle themselves, and is armed with anything more than a tongue depressor, will be able to put them down with relative ease.
Jerry limps over to his brother’s side and mumbles something that only they can hear. A goodbye, perhaps. Then, he lifts his Thompson/Center and puts a bullet through his brother’s head. The beast falls still. Jimmy Kaplan is dead.
The old-timer’s jaw shakes, and he wipes a tear from his eye. Nodding, he turns and heads over to Jill and me. I’m not quite sure what he’s about to say, only that he looks more at peace. He seemed strained and drained back up in the hotel room. Not now. He appears to be ready to move on. It’s how I’d feel. Andy and Cooper arrive first, and our foursome awaits the former SEAL.
Andy is speaking with Jack and Tara. My head is pounding, and I turn down my radio again. I need a minute to mentally recover. This time, I promise to remember to turn it back up.
“See you soon.”
“Everything good?” I ask her.
“Just peachy,” she replies, getting an eye roll out of me. “They saw a couple drones wandering around and took them out. Not a ton of Unseen in the area, though.”
“None in the hotel either,” Cooper adds.
I shrug. “No biggy. They typically come in waves.”
“Jimmy’s doing?” Andy asks.
“Probably,” I reply. “He made his presence pretty known to us. I can’t imagine he got along with the other creatures too well.” I recall the way the siren and goblins went after him back in the dining room.
Jerry steps up next to us and takes off his Razorbacks hat. Next, he combs a hand through his slick, grey hair. Clearing his throat, the old-timer says the last thing I thought he would.
“Where to next?”
We look at one another with the same “huh?” reactions.
“You want to join us?” Jill asks. “Just like that?”
Jerry shrugs. “Got nothin’ else goin’ on. Not anymore.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Y’all helped this old man out in his time of need. I can never repay you for that.”
I smile at his sincerity. “Of course, you can join us,” I reply. “Besides…we need all the help we can get.”
Jerry nods his thanks and replaces his hat atop his head.
Over the next couple of minutes, I’m filled in with what happened since Jill, Andy, and I got separated. The girls only came across three more drones and two goblins before standing around and waiting for me to arrive.
That doesn’t seem fair.
But it is what it is, and I move on.
Of the victims in the waterpark, a few of them were armed when they were attacked. We search their remains for ammo or anything else that didn’t get digested inside of Jimmy’s stomach. We aren’t able to recover much, unfortunately. Whatever wasn’t acid-washed was crushed and isn’t fixable. I think we might’ve gotten one extra handgun out of the entire room. It’s a little dinged up, but Jerry says he can salvage it.
Now that Jimmy is dead, we can continue with our original mission. We meet near the entrance to the waterpark, the one we’ve used several times now. Jerry is the last of us to arrive, giving his brother one last glance before turning away for good.
“Hey, Jerry?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine. “Yeah?”
“You ever hear of someone named Casey Farrell?”
23
I didn’t expect to get anything out of the former seaman, but once again, he proves me wrong. Jerry’s bushy eyebrows raise a little. It’s not much. It’s enough, though. I can tell he's heard of her.
“I’ve heard things,” Jerry replies. “Used to bunk with a couple of people. They knew Farrell. Told me all kinds of terrible stories.”
“Anything that might help us locate her?” Andy asks. “She has my nephew.”
Jerry frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Daniel.”
“Andy,” she replies. “Please, call me Andy.”
“Very good, Ms. Andy.”
The corner of Andy’s mouth curls into a small smile. Jerry is going to be nice to have around.
“Anywho,” Jerry says, getting back on topic, “they talked about a couple of people they killed—Brent and Winston were their names. Brent told me about the cannibals, the, uh…”
“The Conrads,” I finish.
“Yeah, them,” Jerry shakes his head. “What has the world come to?”
“And the other man?” Andy asks, sounding impatient.
“Brent? Yeah, he talked about Farrell and her methods.”
“Methods?” I ask.
“Mmmhmm.” I can tell he doesn’t want to repeat what he's heard. “She, uh, burned those that didn’t agree with her at the stake.”
“Fuck…” Cooper mumbles, holding a hand over his mouth.
“That was my reaction, too,” Jerry agrees.
“She thinks fire is a god…more or less,” I explain to him. Jerry doesn’t know as much as we do. “She worships its ability to purify.”
The veteran grumbles to himself. “She must be the life of the party.”
The main hallway back to the lobby is impassable thanks to Jimmy’s rampage from earlier. So, we head back to the dining room and exit the hotel, hopefully for good. Jerry whistles, enjoying the work of his trashcan bomb.
“Impressive that you used it as a key,” he says.
I shrug. “Didn’t check the door actually. We weren’t sure who was doing the boobytrapping and didn’t want to risk setting something else off.”
Jerry scratches his chin. “Makes sense.”
We still aren’t out of the woods yet. There are still plenty of Unseen around these parts. Everyone readies their weapons as we step out into the cold. We bypass the empty pool and head straight for the Yukon. Cooper and I clear it of debris while everyone else covers us. While it's calm and quiet, Jill gives Jerry a rundown on what we’ve seen—the super-short version of it, anyway.
He doesn’t say a word as he listens to a tale of monsters and, well, monsters. She recites the names we’ve given them, including the local variants, the burners. Since his brother was an anomaly, like “baldy” back in Wellington, we don’t label Jimmy as anything else. Interestingly, there are snakes that carry an Unseen virus, though. We’ll have to be on the lookout back in Sanctuary.
“What’s your ETA?” Andy asks.
Dammit, I think, turning my radio back up. Did it again.
“How ’bout now?” Tara shouts. Ouch, too loud.
A second, identical Yukon comes roaring up the front driveway of the hotel. Its front end is caked in god-knows-what and its missing its left headlight. Other than that, it's okay.
Keeping the engine running, the two CPD officers climb out of their SUV and embrace Andy and Cooper. Jill and I get nods and handshakes, which is fine. We aren’t close enough to them for anything more than that. Jerry is introduced too.
It seems that Jack and Tara jumped down from the broken ladder behind Bubba’s place and reacquired their ride before coming here. I guess the way really is that clear…
“Mind if our new friend catches a ride with you?” Andy asks. It’s not really a question. She’s their superior, not that it means much out here. But like I thought, both Jack and Tara immediately agree to give Jerry a lift, welcoming him to our team. I can’t see his face from where I’m standing, but I know that he’s smiling wide, happy to be a part of something bigger than just himself. He’ll make an excellent addition to our community too.
Tires squeal behind us. Everyone reflexively turns to see what the hubbub is all about.
“Down!” Cooper shouts.
We all hit the deck as our position is sprayed with automatic gunfire. Round after round impact the armored Yukons, doing little else than scuffing up their already ruined paint jobs. A second shriek of rubber on road gets us moving. The drive-by failed, though, it doesn’t mean we’re just going to let our attempted murderers get away scot-free.
We pile into our vehicles and take off after the suspects, careening over the curb and out onto the main road. A white truck heads east on Belle Aire Lane. Even from the backseat, I can see a pair of heads bobbing around inside of the pickup. The two-lane street quickly ends up ahead, dead-ending at Reagan Drive.
Cooper yanks on the steering wheel and sends us sliding into the intersection. Our tires quickly pick up traction and shoot us to the south.
“Has to be Farrell,” Andy says, gripping onto her seat’s ‘Oh, shit! handle.’
Jill and I are holding onto the handles too as we witness the truck make a quick left onto another tight two-laner called Popular Lane. Three-hundred feet later, the worn road makes an incredibly sharp turn to the right. With no protractor to speak of, I’d have to guess that the angle measures less than ninety-degrees.
The getaway driver does a great Doc Brown imitation, taking the fictional scientist’s famous quote to heart: Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need road
s.
The truck continues off the street to the right and careens and careens down an embankment. If they think we aren’t going to follow, then they haven’t met Cooper Stills. He floors the pedal and shoots us straight off the side of the road without batting an eyelash.
Not that I can see his eyes right now.
The ground beneath us is natural and bumpy as hell. It’s another hundred feet or so until we come across the next structure—a home. It’s a small neighborhood, actually, nothing more than a dozen houses clumped together on one side street.
Is this where Farrell’s been hiding?
With no easy route around the homes, Cooper attempts to squeeze us through them.
“Uh, Coop?” Andy says, gripping her handle harder.
Our driver is silent and locked in, sending us on a collision course with a fucking house. Miraculously, we slip through mostly unscathed, just playing the part of the ball in Pong. The passenger-side mirror is sheared off, but other than that, we’re fine. We actually make up some distance as well.
Only fifty feet behind the truck now, Cooper pushes us faster and faster. I know his plan—and it’s a good one. He’s going to try and nudge the pickup off the road with the Yukon’s push bar. It’s a trick of the trade when attempting to end a vehicular pursuit, AKA, a “car chase.”
It works too, for the most part. All parties plow through a chain-link fence and find the road beyond. Cooper times the bump perfectly, waiting for the driver to turn the wheel. Then, he sends the truck fishtailing through the side of an industrial warehouse. They disappear through the thin metal siding and crash into something we can’t see from here.
Not wasting any time, we stop and leap out of the SUVs, drawing our guns. At first, we wait and use the vehicles as cover. Usually, it’s me leading the way into danger. I don’t offer my services, though. I’m more than willing to let someone else have the job right now. I’m still trying to fully recover from the fun at the waterpark.
Andy waves us forward, M4 Carbine up and steady. Everyone else is using handguns as of now except Jack and Tara. Even Jerry throws his slower firing Thompson/Center over his shoulder. He slips a pistol out from beneath his coat and grips it like a man who’s been doing it for decades.
