Four (Their Dead Lives,1)

by Scott, Zack

  “Both.”

  I’m ready for this conversation to end. So he sped things along, bluntly asking, “Did you need something?”

  “As you so eloquently put it, yes, your uncle and I are fuh-fucking.”

  “Only a word, Pat.”

  “A crude one.”

  “If you let it be.”

  Pat sipped again. “Anyway. I have yet to meet his family. So I wanted to spend some time with you.”

  “Little busy right now, Pat.”

  “Yes, with our follower, who we can’t even see.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Honestly? I don’t have one.” He left the champagne bottle with Evans and went for the lower deck. But Evans stopped him, putting a hand on his arm.

  “Pat.”

  “Yes?”

  “When this is all over, how about the three of us get a beer?”

  Pat’s smile shone through the night. “I would love that.” And he left.

  I can finally focus.

  “Piggy, hi, piggy!” Howard flopped on his stomach, still sound asleep. “I love piggy. Ooo...Salmon.”

  Help me. The navigator of the speedboat never came that night.

  Evans had moved to a lounge chair to keep watch and by morning, the speedboat was only slightly closer to them. Enough of this. He went to the bridge.

  The yacht ceased to accelerate.

  Back at the railing and behind his reflex sight, Evans readied for their follower. Come at us. The speedboat, still a mere speck in the distance, moved closer.

  “Albacore tuna!” Howard jolted awake this time. His dry lips clapped together. Groggy, he asked, “What—what time is it?”

  Evans gave him no answer.

  Howard went to his side, like everyone else had before. “Who is that?”

  “Not sure.”

  “It’s coming for us?” Howard’s voice shook with anxiety. The speedboat, approximately a thousand feet away, accelerated closer.

  Evans’s finger twitched behind the carbine. “Looks like it.”

  “Speeding, it’s speeding up?” Howard took a step back.

  Evans hovered his finger over the trigger. Not friendly.

  Seven hundred feet. Faster.

  “Too fast, it’s too fast.” Howard took another step back.

  Five hundred feet.

  “Get to cover,” Evans growled through clenched teeth.

  “Why is it coming so fast?”

  Three hundred feet.

  “GET BACK!” With a biting shout, Evans opened fire. Bullets ripped through the speedboat’s windshield. The navigator, masked in a black cloak, never flinched. A bullet scathed him but nothing slowed the speedboat down.

  Mother fuh—

  Evans fired two more rounds, swung his carbine, and leapt for safety. A giant fireball ignited and black waves of smoke rushed across the yacht. The blast had thrown him down the staircase to the main deck. A sharp crack erupted painfully in his ribs. He clenched his side and cursed to the skies. Tiny flames ate at his arm but he brushed them off, his skin only lightly burned.

  Sprawled against the wood, Evans’ ears rang as he heard a girl scream hysterically. What the hell was that? Where the hell is he?

  Someone kept calling for the screaming girl: “Nicole! Nicole!”

  The specialist struggled to his knees, armed himself when he could. Smoke rushed at his face, causing him to choke. His eyes watered. He pushed to his feet, clenching his carbine.

  “Nicole!” the man yelled again. Alec.

  Evans rushed through the smoke, sliding to a stop near the smoking crater torn into the yacht.

  The cloaked figure, the navigator of the speedboat, had somehow landed on the yacht. A black tower, the navigator went straight for Alec, who held the motionless Nicole tightly.

  Maybe it was because of his daze, or maybe because of the thick and blinding smoke, but most of his bullets missed the navigator darting smoothly from side to side.

  A giant hand wrapped tightly around Evans' neck. Lifting him off the deck, the navigator’s grip crushed his throat. Kicking his legs futilely, Evans dug his nails in his killer’s wrist. Desperate drool dripped off his lips.

  Lost air.

  White flashes overwhelmed his vision. Dark, lifeless eyes mocked his weakness.

  “Fuh-fuck you,” he spat a chunk of phlegm at the navigator’s face.

  A man’s scream came from behind Evans. Pat, armed with the hand-axe, struck at the navigator, yelling, “Get off him!”

  Weightless, Evans flew through the aftermath of the explosion, and shades of blue twirled in circles, and the cold sea was the last thing to touch his bones.

  ALEC

  There are few beautiful things in this world, and I have the most beautiful one in my arms. Alec tenderly kissed Nicole’s forehead. They were lying together, tucked away in their alcove once again. He ran his hand down her delicate arm and wrapped his fingers around her waist. Her warmth crept into his skin. “I love you.”

  Nicole murmured and snuggled closer. “How did you sleep?”

  “As good as one could, I guess.”

  “Me too. Nightmares?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You were shaking in your sleep again.”

  The shakes came every once in a while, ever since high school. Nicole had grown used to them and they didn’t wake her as often as they did in the beginning. Thankfully. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” She pushed off the alcove.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need some air. It’s stuffy in here and that smell from that cabin is awful.”

  Even with her hair in a frizzed mess, Alec couldn’t help but smile at her beauty. Her hand slipped from his and she was gone. Dropping his head on his hands, he lay back down. So grateful for her. So damn grate—

  Alec was slammed to his chest in the hall. Smoke flew past the interior’s square exit. Nicole! He kicked to his feet and ran onto the main deck. Screaming her name, ducking through the black smoke, he searched for her. “Nicole!” Another explosion shot up, forcing him down to one knee. What the hell is hap—no, no, NO.

  “Nicole!” Her body slid limply across the deck and he fell to catch her. Blood soaked her hair, running down her cheek. He shook with numb hands and squeezed her tightly. No. No. No. Fear clouded his vision and made him sick. She was about to breathe out her last — he saw it: the dark tower, the black cloak. Impossible.

  Alec clenched his fist, taking short, hot breaths. He couldn’t get enough air. The cloaked intruder dropped its hood, revealing a gray-haired creature with a gray beard. A dark scar ran vertically from its forehead to chin. The eyes were swallowed in black. The veins in its neck and forehead swelled under its flesh, flowing with dark blood.

  Alec froze, anchored in place, staring at the Embracer. Impossible.

  The Embracer’s face was an emotionless blank. The dark eyes scanned Alec and Nicole. Does it recognize me? Does it—

  Bullets ripped through the smoke as Evans made his attack. The Embracer was so fast that in a second, it had a choking grip around the Marine.

  Pat rushed from the ship’s interior with the hand-axe, launching an attack on the cloaked figure, followed by Dylan. The axe sliced the Embracer’s arm. Black blood splashed on his face. Then Evans was suddenly gone, tossed overboard.

  “Jonny!” Dylan cried out.

  The Embracer made no sound or flinch. A simple stare lowered to Pat.

  “Patty, run!” Dylan reached out, searching for any weapon.

  Pat yanked the axe back, ready to strike again, until the Embracer snapped a hand around his wrist. With one quick motion, the Embracer twisted Pat’s arm so hard bloody bits of bone stabbed through skin. A screeching squeal scurried from Pat’s mouth. He dropped to his knees by the Embracer’s waist and cast one final, defeated look at Dylan. A gloved hand reached around Pat’s head then abruptly snapped his neck.

  “No!” Dylan yelled, reaching for the limp body
. His chest heaved out. “PAT!” And he charged at the Embracer.

  The hand-axe flew from the deck and launched right into Dylan’s leg. The doctor tumbled over, falling on his back.

  The Embracer stepped over him.

  Dylan’s sweat-drenched hair swung loosely as he helplessly stared at his Reaper. “One day, one day I’ll—”

  The Embracer struck a fist at Dylan’s face, instantly rendering him unconscious. It ripped the axe out of his leg, stepped past Dylan, and went for the yacht’s interior.

  Alec carried Nicole in his arms, running to the upper deck. Howard was there, cowering behind the hot tub. “What’s going on down there?”

  Alec ignored him and took his love up to the bridge. He was careful while lowering her down, taking care to not bump her many wounds. She still breathed.

  You let her go. You let her go.

  Alec held her. She was so limp, so weak. He touched her cheek and with his free hand, tugged off his shirt. He wrapped it around her bleeding head. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Alec,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  “I’m here.”

  You should have gone with her. You should have kept her close. You let her go out there.

  “I can’t feel,” she coughed. “I thought I was dead.”

  Alec’s lips trembled against each other. “Stay still.”

  “Alec, if I don’t—”

  “You’re going to be safe.” He looked away, straining his eyes. She will die because of you. You should have kept her close. So damn close.

  Her bloody hand wrapped around his. “I love you,” she said, her face so pale as her eyelids drifted shut.

  You lose everyone. Hunched over, he stared out the bridge, out at the stairs leading to the main deck, out at the rising smoke. He pressed to his feet, stepping forward with vengeance pulsating through his veins. Time for you to embrace me, motherfucker.

  Outside the bridge, Howard held onto a lounge chair, examining a wood piece stuck in his ankle, ripped through his slacks. “I really liked this suit too,” he said as his tie slapped him in the face. “Where are you going?”

  Alec stared with a blank face. “We need to help.”

  “Help? I-I can’t.”

  A minor ankle wound. “You can.”

  Howard wiggled his nose. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve been hiding with your girl since the bar. Why are you so brave now?”

  Alec’s hands shot to Howard’s shirt. “They need us. Our friends need us. That’s worth being brave for.” He pushed off Howard. “Now, come.”

  “I-I–”

  No time to waste. Alec went for the main deck and heard Howard’s footsteps reluctantly following.

  The yacht tipped to one side. We will sink soon. Alec slipped but gathered his footing. He saw Pat’s corpse and Dylan lying next to him, both sprawled across the deck. But he kept moving, right for the interior, right for the Embracer of Death.

  Then he saw him.

  KALE

  Somebody please shut Jimmy Miller up.

  “All I’m saying is, I’m destined to write the story of the Great White Zombie.” Miller extended a hand toward Kale, illustrating with hand gestures. “Picture this, it’s Jaws meets—”

  Kale snapped. “Jimmy! Will you please tell me what the hell is going on out there? It sounded like a damn explosion!”

  Seated comfortably in the chair across from Kale, Miller rubbed his orange mustache. “Oh, right. Sorry, Kale, I just get captivated with my ideas sometimes.” He grabbed his holstered pistol and nodded. “Picture it, though. A zombie shark has a good reason to eat people. It’s genius, really.”

  “JIMMY!”

  “Right, right.” He stood by the doorway. “I’ll go get—”

  “Jimmy, turn around!”

  The Embracer hovered over the deputy. Grabbing his shoulders, it threw him across the cabin. Miller’s back crushed a wall.

  The Embracer focused on Kale. A freezing shiver ran down his spine. “You. It’s you.”

  Miller struggled on the floor, scrambling for his pistol. He got to his knees and swung it from the holster. The first bullet completely missed. Jimmy! The second scathed the Embracer’s cloak. Before he could shoot again, the hand-axe flew across the cabin, impaling Miller’s chest. Miller managed to fire one last round, hitting the Embracer directly.

  “Shoot it again!” Kale waved at Miller.

  The monster darted away, yanked the axe from Miller’s chest, and swung it down twice before the deputy could react. Jimmy’s blood exploded across the cabin and Kale had to cover his face as that strange kid he once knew from high school was hacked apart.

  The Embracer rose from the blood-drenched, motionless body.

  Jimmy . . . Jesus . . .

  Kale’s back straightened on the bed, straighter than he ever thought possible. His eyes locked with those dark, bottomless pits. “You found me.”

  The Embracer took a slow step closer to the bed.

  “It was just a matter of time, I always knew.”

  Another step.

  Kale quickly crawled on the bed to escape but a hand struck around his ankle. He grabbed at sheets with his one hand and kicked to break free. The grip tightened while long fingers clawed at him, crawling up his legs. “Let me go!” Kale cried and kicked and swung in desperation. His nails dug in the sheets as he was yanked off the bed and flung over the Embracer’s shoulder. He slammed his fist at the cloaked back but the beating never fazed his captor. As he was carried from the cabin, the bloody mess that had been Miller shakily raised his gun one last time. One shot, and it exploded the lamp feet away from Kale.

  The gun fell from Miller’s hands.

  You fucking missed, Jimmy! Kale knew he could only trust himself to break free, as helpless as he was. So he yelled, “Let me go! Let me go!” And he bashed at the Embracer again and again. Pointless.

  Then the Embracer halted.

  Maybe not pointless.

  Kale launched his head to look down the hall. His eyes ignited with hope. “Hell. Yes.”

  Jeff “Homer” Brennan had risen from his coma. Standing, his chest heaving, he held Dylan’s shotgun, and he stepped forward, his teeth clenched. He pumped a round. “Put him down.”

  JEFF

  My mind, my soul, my body has been somewhere else. But that does not matter. What matters is Kale in the Embracer’s grasp and the shotgun in mine.

  “You had to come back for us. You had to.” Jeff backed a step as the Embracer made its way toward him. He was ready to pull the trigger, but he knew the spread would kill Kale. The expression across the Embracer’s face bothered him most. Or perhaps it was the lack of an expression. Does it recognize me? Does it even remember what it did to us? The Embracer kept moving forward, soon forcing Jeff up to the main deck.

  Blood and smoke engulfed him. Alec and Howard rushed from the upper deck but he kept his aim steady. “I’ve got this, guys.”

  “Jeff, how—” Alec started.

  “Stay put, Alec. I got this.”

  The Embracer leapt from the dark, still holding Kale. The threatening dark presence stood inches taller than Jeff, and Jeff was a tall dude.

  “Kale,” Alec stepped closer.

  “Alec, get behind me,” commanded Jeff.

  Kale squirmed over the Embracer’s shoulder. “Just shoot him!”

  I will kill you at this angle, my friend.

  Another step back and Jeff’s boots were soaked with water. The main deck would be completely flooded soon. They’d all sink.

  “We’re going down, Jeff, what do we do?” Alec asked close behind him.

  Take the risk and take the shot? Not a chance, not without—

  A hand struck, wrapping a tight grip around the Embracer’s ankle.

  Dr. Dylan Evans growled to life, right before sinking his teeth in the Embracer’s flesh. He yanked back, mouth full of bloody skin and torn cloth. He spat it out, snarling, “I can bite, too!”

  Alive.
r />   The Embracer lowered Kale, giving Jeff enough of a clear area to fire. He pulled the trigger. The impact of the blast sent the Embracer flying back into the interior, back into the darkness.

  Kale fell on his chest and grabbed at his butt, howling, “You shot me in the ass, Homer!”

  Jeff lowered the smoking weapon and, smiling in relief, glanced at Alec. “Oops.”

  Dylan, struggling to breathe while looking at them, said, “There’s a life raft up top. We need to get off this bitch.”

  They ignored him, focusing their gazes on the interior.

  “You have to shoot it again,” said Alec.

  “I know.” He edged closer to the dark hole. Although he could not see the Embracer, he took no chances. He unloaded and pumped and unloaded and pumped, filling the interior with each spread. A light stream of smoke rose from the barrel. Alec hovered behind. “I don’t see—”

  The cloaked beast launched into them, splitting them apart like a couple of bowling pins. Jeff slid across the deck, turning on his chest and clawing at the wood to slow down. His legs touched water but he didn’t fall overboard, unlike Alec. His friend flipped over the yacht’s side but barely managed to grab its edge, scrambling to get a better grip.

  Howard cowered closest to Jeff. His eyes were locked across the deck, watching the struggling Kale, who grabbed his shotgun wounds and crawled with all he had, trying to escape the Embracer. A dark glove hovered over him. Kale! Jeff twirled around, searching for the shotgun. He had heard a splash throughout the mayhem. Did I lose it?

  As Jeff searched, Howard rose to his feet. He tightened his tie and straightened his belt. He’s not going to—

  Howard rushed forward, the Embracer his target.

  “Wait!” Jeff reached for him.

  Kale stared from the floor, watching his roommate make his move. “Howard, don’t!”

  Howard raised his fists and a deep roar emerged from that scrawny body. “Get. Away. FROM MY FRIEND!” He thrust an arm out, trying to throw an upper cut punch.

  It went nowhere—his fist dangled inches short of his target.

  The Embracer stared at Howard, as if analyzing a rare specimen, then slammed its elbow into Howard’s skull. Howard’s head snapped sharply to one side, and a gigantic red gash stretched across his neck until a red fountain flowed free. His body flipped to the ground, and his head hung on by slivers of flesh. A few twitches till his lifeless eyes died on Kale.