Insanely Deadly

by Holly Copella

  “Forget it. Let's go!” Daniels snapped.

  Daniels had already lost precious minutes as it was, and his attitude was showing his displeasure with her.

  “I charge extra for surly,” Jetta retorted.

  Chapter Twelve

  Later that afternoon, Lee stood before the front desk and talked to Stacy while showing off the new pink high heels she wore. Although they were obviously uncomfortable, Lee was proud of them all the same. Jetta entered the lobby through the driveway entrance with a look of exhaustion and approached the desk. She hated being without her car. She also had Sheriff Palmer to blame for that too. Even though it was less than a mile away, the walk from the hanger seemed to take forever some days. Lee and Stacy looked at Jetta as she wearily leaned on the desk near them.

  “Someone's certainly putting in the overtime today,” Lee teased while taking a little too much pleasure in Jetta's predicament. “I hear Sheriff Palmer passed off his baby-sitting job onto you.”

  “Is that the story he's telling?” Jetta asked.

  “He bragged a little, yes,” Lee replied with a look of humor on her face.

  Jetta shook her head with disgust and straightened. She would deal with Palmer when she had more energy. “Is Desmond around? My cell phone isn't working.”

  “Maybe you should try paying your bills,” Lee scoffed.

  “None of the cell phones have been working since this morning,” Stacy offered. “It must be the mainland tower. The landline phones are still working. Desmond is in his office.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jetta headed across the lobby toward the corridor beyond the elevators.

  Lee watched her leave then shook her head. “Is it just me or is Jetta turning into her father?”

  “She's certainly as popular as he is.”

  Lee suddenly glared at Stacy. “You're kidding, right?”

  “I don't understand why you're so bugged by her,” Stacy remarked. “So what if she's popular? She's never stolen a man from you or even said one bad thing about you. And your father adores her--”

  “Yes, he adores her, and it makes me sick,” Lee scoffed and removed her uncomfortable, pink high heels with disgust. “How would you feel if your father wanted to get into my pants?”

  “I wouldn't doubt he does,” Stacy replied simply.

  “And how would you feel if I became your new step-mom?” she demanded.

  Stacy considered the comment for a long moment then appeared curious and glanced at the pink high heels in Lee's hands. “Would I be allowed to borrow your shoes?”

  Lee rolled her eyes, groaned, and walked away. Stacy stared after her with a look of surprise.

  “I guess not.”

  †

  The hotel lounge was empty and quiet. Tyler stood behind the bar and peeled labels off empty beer bottles. Jetta and Desmond sat at a table near the back. Desmond had his laptop set up in front of him and worked on Anderson's cell phone. Jetta was still irritated with the government guys and Sheriff Palmer. Once again, poor Desmond had to suffer through her rants.

  “Those idiots are driving me insane,” Jetta scoffed. “Fly here--fly there. Mind your own business. I'm telling you, Desmond, they're up to something. What's with all the assault rifles? And I saw them putting a rock or something into a biohazard box. What the hell was that about? Have we all been exposed to radiation poisoning or something? I'm lucky they even allowed me to take a break.”

  He finally looked up and appeared surprised by her comment. Apparently, he hadn't been paying attention to most of her rant. “You're going back out?”

  “And I'm charging them accordingly,” she informed him while allowing her head to fall into her hand.

  Desmond returned to fiddling with the cell phone. “None of the cell phones seem to be working, but for some reason, this one still does.”

  “I hope you can crack it.”

  “Must have something good on it,” he remarked.

  Anderson's cell phone chirped and came to life.

  Desmond grinned proudly. “Damn, I'm good.”

  The cell phone suddenly went blank. Desmond appeared stunned and stared helplessly at it.

  “What happened?” Jetta asked.

  “I don't know. They must have done something to it. Some sort of security precaution to prevent hacking,” he informed her then appeared disgusted. “I guess they don't want anyone seeing what's on it.”

  “Can you get it back?” she asked.

  “No, it's fried. These guys are good.”

  “Yeah, but so are you.”

  Desmond frowned. “They're better.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was around four-thirty that afternoon. Hunter sat on the deck with his reading glasses on and studied the electronic device the size of a cell phone in his hand. He played with one of the buttons, aimed it at a female jogger passing by, and watched the heat-seeking blip on the screen. He grinned and appeared pleased with his new toy.

  “Well, aren't you the sophisticated little guy,” he said. “Let's take you apart and see what makes you tick.”

  Hunter entered the house, shut the door behind him, and walked through the kitchen. He paused only a moment to glance at the floor in front of the refrigerator, just to be sure, and then continued into the hallway beyond the kitchen. Hunter entered the study and rummaged through several drawers. The study obviously belonged to the admiral indicated by the military gear hanging on the walls and the gun cabinet reinforced with bars behind the glass. Hunter removed a set of tiny screwdrivers from the desk drawer, left the study, and returned to the kitchen.

  Hunter sat at the island counter with the heat-seeking device in front of him, put on his glasses, and removed one of the tiny screwdrivers from the case. There was a soft tapping on the glass deck doors. Hunter groaned softly, set his toy down, and removed his glasses with disgust. He was always being disturbed while he was up to something devious. As he approached the nearby doors, he saw zombie Teresa standing before the glass doors staring at him. All flesh was missing on her lower face and the entire front of her body was covered in dried and fresh blood. Hunter suddenly stopped and stared at her a moment from several feet away.

  This was a first. Usually when he saw dead people, they were lying motionless on the floor. His mind was obviously playing tricks on him again. He was convinced he'd seen this girl before, although he didn't remember her being nearly as unattractive as she was now. He figured he should ask her what she wanted; since it seemed obvious she wanted something. He uncertainly approached the door, reached for the handle, and was about to open it when he suddenly hesitated. He flipped the lock on the door and approached the kitchen phone on the nearby counter. Hunter decided he should probably discuss this with Jetta first. He dialed Jetta's cell phone number and received a strange humming sound. He hung up and instead dialed the hotel's phone number. As it rang, he casually leaned on the counter.

  “Winter Harbor Hotel. This is Stacy,” came the familiar voice on the other end.

  “Is Jetta Cross available?” Hunter asked.

  “Hunter?” Stacy asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Who's this?”

  “Hunter, it's Stacy.”

  “Uh, Stacy who?”

  “Oh, okay,” she replied with the sound of concern in her voice. “One moment.”

  There was a moment's pause.

  “Hunter?” came Jetta's voice.

  “Jetta, uh, hey, I'm, uh, seeing dead people,” he said timidly while shifting uncomfortable at the counter.

  “Hunter, there are no dead people. I assure you, you're alone,” Jetta informed him over the phone.

  Hunter casually looked at the glass doors. Zombie Teresa ran her bloodstained hands along the glass, leaving bloody smears, while watching him. He stared at her exposed teeth and jawbone. She was rather repulsive, he thought.

  “Are you sure?” he asked and now felt tense.

  “No one's there, Hunter,” she gently assured him. “N
o one died.”

  Hunter stared at the glass doors and maintained his doubt. Zombie Jeremy now stood alongside zombie Teresa and tried to open the door. The lever handle jiggled slightly. Jeremy was missing the flesh from the back of his neck and part of his shoulder. His spine near the base of his skull was visible. Hunter wondered what kind of bomb caused that sort of damage.

  “Yeah, they look pretty dead to me. Sort of like zombies,” he replied casually. “Am I having another episode?”

  “I'm sure that's all it is,” she said from the other end.

  †

  Jetta stood before the front desk in the lobby with the phone to her ear while talking to Hunter. Desmond stood alongside her and listened to the conversation while appearing curious. She looked at Desmond, frowned, and shook her head.

  “Dead people again,” she said softly.

  “I got this. Tell him I'm on my way,” Desmond said and hurried across the lobby for the parking lot doors.

  Elise and Stacy were behind the desk and stared at Jetta with strange, bewildered looks. Elise shook her head with disgust but refrained from commenting.

  “Hunter, Desmond is on his way,” Jetta said into the phone. “I have to baby-sit our government friends another few hours.”

  “What should I do about the dead people? They want to come inside,” Hunter asked from the other end.

  “Tell them you're not allowed to talk to strange dead people. House rule,” Jetta informed him.

  “What if they don't care?”

  “Try hitting your reset button,” she said simply. “I promise they'll go away.”

  Daniels entered the lobby with his usual look of impatience. He spotted her and quickly approached. Jetta saw him approaching, groaned, and rolled her eyes.

  “I'll be home as soon as I can. I'm not doing any night flying for these bozos. Will you be okay until Desmond gets there?” she asked.

  †

  Hunter studied zombies Teresa and Jeremy as they attempted to enter the house and pawed at the glass. The dead jogger now joined them at the door. He watched them while holding the phone to his ear and appeared distracted.

  “Uh, yeah. I'll be fine,” he said into the phone.

  “Okay. Behave until I get back,” Jetta announced from the other end.

  “Yeah, bye,” Hunter replied. He hung up the phone and approached the glass doors. He stared with disbelief at the collection of dead people on the other side of the glass and uncertainly shook his head. “What the hell was in that injection Doc gave me?” He firmly waved off the zombies. “Go away. You're not real!”

  They continued to paw at the door. Hunter shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes, the three zombies remained outside the door and continued to stare at him with dead eyes. A fourth zombie, Ted, was now approaching. Hunter stared at Ted's missing arm and shook his head.

  “Damned reset button,” Hunter muttered. “Wish they made little screwdrivers for that too.”

  He heard the front door opening in the living room. That couldn't be Desmond already. Desmond had a bit of a lead foot, but even he couldn't get here that fast from the hotel. Hunter turned and casually headed into the living room. A female zombie entered through the open front door. He stared at her as she made her way toward him. Now who the hell was she? The first time he was surrounded by women, and they were all repulsive! He shamed himself for being so shallow. He was sure they had lovely personalities. Hunter uncertainly took a step toward her then hesitated. Something seemed wrong.

  “I'm just having an episode. You're not real,” he sternly informed her. She didn't seem impressed. Hunter turned and walked away from the female zombie. She followed after him. Hunter looked back at her and was becoming annoyed. “Why are you following me?”

  Another male zombie entered through the open front door as well and joined the female zombie in her pursuit of Hunter. Hunter groaned, waved them off with disgust, and walked away.

  †

  It was around the same time that afternoon when Sheriff Palmer's cruiser pulled up to Zion's farmhouse with the lights flashing. Palmer and Styles got out of the car and looked around. Everything seemed unusually quiet. Styles remained tense.

  “So Jeremy didn't come home last night,” Styles bluntly remarked as he looked around. “Is that any reason to storm the Zion homestead?”

  “I thought you enjoyed storming places,” Palmer teased. “Or are you afraid of a certain blonde teenager?”

  “Of course I'm not afraid of Teresa,” he scoffed then uncertainly looked around. “I just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, that's all.”

  Palmer chuckled while obviously taking pleasure in his deputy's discomfort. “Don't worry; it's my job to watch your back, Styles. I'll make sure Teresa doesn't molest you.”

  Styles frowned to the sheriff's twisted sense of humor and followed him onto the porch. Sheriff Palmer knocked on the door then glanced around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at the farmhouse.

  “Jeremy's father said he was probably visiting Teresa last night,” Palmer remarked. “I had Rosemary call here, but no one answered. It's probably nothing, but after that strange business at Albright's house, I'd rather not take any chances.”

  “Rosemary said Jetta's pissed at you,” Styles remarked. “Maybe you should avoid her for a while.”

  “Are you kidding? She loves me. I let her father win at poker all the time. Jetta and I get along great,” Palmer announced with a bold grin.

  “Uh, I don't think so,” Styles replied.

  Palmer stared at the door, appeared curious, and knocked again. They waited another couple of minutes, but there was still no response.

  “Want me to go around back?” Styles asked and was already taking two steps away.

  Palmer grabbed Styles arm and pulled him back alongside him. “No, you can stay right here,” he said firmly.

  Palmer attempted to open the door, but it was locked.

  “Should I break it down?”

  “That won't be necessary,” Palmer remarked, removed the spare key from under the welcome mat, and showed it to his deputy while grinning. “I know where just about everyone in town keeps their spare key.”

  Palmer unlocked the door and opened it. Styles attempted to enter ahead of him. Palmer casually pulled him back and entered first. The deputy frowned and followed behind. Both looked around the kitchen. Everything seemed in place and nothing was out of the ordinary.

  “Stan? Barb?” Palmer called out.

  There was no response. Styles followed Palmer into the living room. They briefly looked around then stared at Stan's easy chair. The chair was covered in dried blood.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Palmer scoffed.

  Both drew their guns and quickly looked around.

  “Just like at Albright's place,” Styles said while nervously looking around. “This is getting really weird. What's going on around here?”

  “I don't know, but I don't want you touching anything,” Palmer firmly announced. “You have a look around inside the house. Check every room and closet. I'm going to look around the landscaping building and office.”

  Styles nodded and walked through the house. Palmer glanced at the floor. A small trail of blood led to the partially open living room door. He followed the blood and looked out onto the rear porch. The blood stopped halfway across the porch. Palmer remained suspicious and walked toward the front of the house. He stepped off the porch and suddenly hesitated. The .357 Magnum revolver lay on the ground alongside the porch. Palmer removed his handkerchief and picked the revolver up by the barrel to examine it. There was dried blood on the handle. He sniffed the barrel and appeared surprised. It had been recently fired. He carefully wrapped the revolver in his handkerchief and placed it in his jacket pocket. He uncertainly headed around the side of the house. Palmer stopped by the massive rose trellis and stared at the large amount of dried blood on the grass. He uncertainly looked up the rose trellis and observed the crushed flowers and leave
s. Someone had recently climbed the trellis. Actually, it appeared to have seen a lot of recent activity. He attempted to put all his clues together, frowned with discuss, and headed for the landscaping building.

  Sheriff Palmer entered the office and turned on the light. The dingy room barely brightened to reveal old, dusty furniture and a cluttered, metal desk. He looked at the sofa, appeared concerned, and approached it. The entire first cushion was soaked with dried blood. A bloody handprint was visibly noticeable on the side of the cushion. Palmer crouched alongside the sofa and studied the bloody handprint. He placed his hand up to it. The bloody print was definitely that of a woman. He looked at the floor. A blood-covered, gold hoop earring lay on the floor alongside the sofa. The clasp was still connected and it contained some flesh. He removed his pen and pushed the earring away from the blood.

  “Teresa,” Palmer gasped softly. He uncertainly straightened, appeared concerned, and looked around the room. “What the hell is going on around here?”

  †

  Jetta's helicopter landed at Zion's farmhouse only moments later near the landscaping building. The sheriff's cruiser remained out front with the lights flashing. Jetta shut down the helicopter and watched her three passengers disembark. Jetta uncertainly got out of the helicopter and looked around. The entire farm was eerily silent. Sheriff Palmer typically did a lot of talking no matter what the occasion. That she didn't hear him was concerning. None of the three men seemed to notice, or perhaps they didn't care. Jetta slowly reached inside the helicopter and removed a small revolver from beneath the pilot's seat.

  “I've just about had it with this messed up day,” Sheriff Palmer was heard shouting from the landscaping building.

  Somehow, that gruff, shouting voice relieved Jetta. Palmer appeared from the landscaping building with a look of disgust on his face while replacing his gun to its holster. All three men hurried toward him. Jetta replaced her small revolver to its rightful place beneath her seat.

  “Did you find anything?” Daniels demanded.