So he removed his army jacket—no sense getting that wet—stripped off his socks, and jumped in.
The water literally took his breath away. His entire diaphragm froze. When he could finally breathe again, he did it by gasping.
No longer did he fear that he’d drown. He’d freeze to death first. He actually felt the heat leave his body and cold pour into his bones as though it were liquid.
The Alaskan current makes the Pacific Ocean so frigid in the Northwest that a person can lose strength and sink in just minutes. The Puget Sound waters are a little bit warmer since the current sweeps past them, but they’re still unspeakable. A life jacket will save you from drowning, but hypothermia will still kill you quickly.
Parker swam like he’d die. The only reason he didn’t panic was because Annie was standing there with his towel. He could not lose his shit in front of the girl.
When he neared the shore and the water got shallow, he stood up and ran the rest of the way. Water poured off him in sheets.
“Hey there,” Annie said. The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him. She had never looked at him that way before. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time. She handed him the towel and said, “You look ten years younger.”
“I feel ten years colder.” He wrapped the towel around his shivering shoulders and felt better at once.
“Come on. Let me show you the house. We have hot coffee.” They had hot coffee? “There’s a wood stove in the living room. Kyle put a few logs on and boiled some water in a pot. The coffee is instant, but it tastes better than Starbucks under the circumstances.”
Parker did not care for Starbucks. Pumpkin-spice lattes? Please. A regular latte was nice once in a while, but he wanted coffee-flavored coffee, not pumpkin.
“I’m sure it’s better than Starbucks,” he said and left it at that.
He placed his bare feet gingerly on the road and watched for tiny pieces of gravel. The ground actually felt a little bit warm. It had to be cold—clouds hid the sun and the air couldn’t be more than fifty degrees—but his feet were even colder from sea.
That icy water, he realized, added yet another layer of protection to the island. Even if those things did try to swim, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to swim to the San Juans from the mainland. Nor would they be able to swim from one island to another. The cold would pull them down as quickly as it would him.
The house wasn’t far. Just a block off the main street. It looked like the perfect storybook cottage. Annie carried a set of dry clothes for him and led him up the stairs and through the front door.
He stepped across the threshold and dripped onto a scratched floor made of fir. Kyle sat on a faded brown couch, Frank in a billowy recliner. Both sipped from steaming mugs.
“Whoa,” Frank said.
Kyle looked startled when he saw Parker sans beard but didn’t say anything.
“Dude, you shaved,” Frank said.
“I did.”
“Nice of you to join us, my man,” Hughes said from the kitchen.
The kitchen. They had a kitchen! Oh, this was grand. Parker could get used to this.
He excused himself to one of the bedrooms so he could dry off and change. The clothes Annie found for him—a pair of blue jeans and a gray pullover sweatshirt that said “Iowa” on it—were a little too big, but that was fine. Better that than a little too small.
He emerged from the bedroom rubbing the towel through his hair.
“What’s for breakfast?” he said.
Nobody spoke.
“Oh,” Parker said. “There’s no food here.”
“We’ll check the other houses,” Hughes said. “This one’s empty. Frank, you’ll go with Kyle. Annie and Parker will stick with me.”
It was at that moment that he realized a new dynamic had shaped up. There was no longer any sort of leadership struggle between himself and Kyle. Parker had receded into the background while Hughes stepped up in his place. Parker just flat lost the argument about where to go and what to do. He had to admit that. He’d assert himself later, and he’d do it a little more delicately than he did before, but now it was time for him to stay back. No one would listen to a damn thing he had to say now, especially right after he’d exiled himself on the boat.
“Food was always going to be the big challenge here,” Kyle said, “if not right away, then eventually.”
Annie sat next to him on the couch. She held her coffee mug with both hands and blew onto it. Faint wisps of steam rose and dissipated.
“Worst-case scenario,” Kyle said, “is we go fishing. When was the last time any of you went fishing? It’ll be great.”
Annie looked off into space at nothing in particular. Parker couldn’t understand why, but he thought she looked sad.
* * *
“Okay,” Kyle said after everyone finished their coffee. “Time to scrounge up some food.” He looked forward to it and could hardly wait to see more of the island now that the whole thing seemed to be theirs. “We also need water since the taps aren’t working. We should bring the boat in. There’s some filters in the backpacks.”
“Not yet,” Hughes said.
“What do you mean, not yet?” Kyle said. “We need the filters. Along with everything else. The night vision sure would be nice.”
“We save the night vision for when we’re attacked,” Hughes said.
“When we’re attacked?” Kyle said.
Hughes just looked at him. Looked at him like he was the stupidest person on earth.
Kyle let out his breath. Okay, yes, they would likely get in a fight again at some point. They’d eventually need to raid the mainland for supplies like solar panels. Perhaps a hostile group like Lane and his crew would show up in a boat of their own. And, sure, it was possible that some of those things were on the island somewhere, but what were the odds? Everybody had left.
“Hughes,” Parker said. “Remember yesterday when you told me to chill? That I was being paranoid?”
Hughes said nothing.
“Has something changed since then?” Parker said. “Did you all see or hear something when I was out there by myself?”
Parker, Kyle thought, was finally making some sense. What was up with Hughes, anyway?
“Didn’t see or hear anything,” Hughes said. “Doesn’t mean the island is clear. We’ve only seen this one little piece of it. We need to search the whole thing.”
Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s bigger than you think.”
“I know how big it is,” Hughes said. “We sailed all the way up it yesterday and I’ve looked at your maps.”
“We can’t search the whole forest,” Annie said. “It goes on forever.”
“Didn’t say we had to search the forest,” Hughes said. “But Kyle himself said there are two other towns. We have no idea what happened in either of them.”
“Man has a point,” Frank said.
Kyle pursed his lips. “All right. Let’s check out the grocery store and see if there’s something for breakfast. We’ll round up a few more supplies, either from there or from some other houses, then check out the other two towns. Y’all want to walk or take the boat?”
“Boat,” Hughes said.
“I’m not getting back in that water,” Parker said.
“Then your ass can stay put,” Hughes said, “We don’t need you.”
Damn, Kyle thought. That was cold. Kyle had more of a reason to be angry at Parker than Hughes did. Parker had punched him two days ago, after all, and his jaw still throbbed. But Parker had behaved better since then. Reducing the amount of stress in his life was doing him good.
“I’d like to find some more clothes and blankets,” Annie said.
“And we need some water,” Frank said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m super freaking dehydrated. My piss looks like tea.”
“There might be some water left in the store,” Hughes said. “Or in bottles in people’s refrigerators. We also need to
check for gun racks and ammo. We used up most of the ammo back at that grocery store. Let’s hold off on splitting up.”
Kyle nodded and opened the front door.
“Forgetting something?” Hughes said.
Was he?
“What?” Kyle said.
“Your crowbar,” Hughes said.
Kyle felt his face flush. He retrieved his crowbar from the kitchen counter.
They headed out as a group. The house next door, a Victorian with delicately painted wedding-cake trim, didn’t look at all like the kind of place where they would find guns and ammo, but Hughes didn’t complain when Kyle stepped onto the porch.
He knocked. He felt silly doing it, but he’d feel worse barging in. His civilized habits were coming back in full force now that he was in a place that hadn’t been trashed. That was a good thing, but at the same time it disturbed him. How many places like this were left in the world? How long before the entire human race forgot how to behave? Dead bodies, broken glass, burnt walls, trash on the streets, and scarce resources brought out everyone’s inner barbarian. Most of the planet must look that way now.
After waiting a few moments for the greeting and welcome he knew wouldn’t come, he tried the handle and the door opened. Whoever lived there hadn’t locked up—what was the point?—but they did take out the trash. Kyle didn’t notice even the faintest of odors. Nor did he sense life or movement or presence inside. The house was empty just like the other one. Surely like all the others.
But this house was nicer than the first. Whoever lived there had enough money to collect heavy wooden furniture from the Victorian era. The curtains were heavy and expensive, as was the marble-top coffee table. The fancy sofa looked a little uptight and uncomfortable—Kyle was a leather-couch guy himself—but the beauty and grace of the whole ensemble was something he never thought he’d see again in his life. The legs on the dining-room table were as thick as Hughes’ arms, and the slab of the tabletop itself could stop bullets.
Hughes stayed on the porch with his rifle and kept watch on the street.
Frank and Annie stepped into the kitchen. Kyle heard the cabinets and refrigerator open.
“Score,” Frank said. “We’ve got soup, rice, and pasta in here. A jar of peanut butter and a can of tuna.”
“Big bottle of mineral water in the fridge,” Annie said, “and some expired orange juice.”
Kyle may not have broken into the house, but he had entered the house, and standing there in the living room like a burglar with a crowbar in his hand while Frank raided the cabinets made him feel like the intruder he was. The law had gone silent, but it was still there in his mind.
He forced those thoughts down, though, and focused instead on the positive. He would love sharing this house with Annie. The place next door was nice enough, but this Victorian was like a miniature grand ballroom in a five-star hotel. Whoever lived there had been good solid people. He could tell. That tradition would continue when he and Annie moved in.
He could hardly wait to chop wood for fires, fish for their dinner, and plant a garden in back. No more wasted time. Everything he did from here on out would be of monumental importance. Never again would he be distracted by email, vacuous filler programs on television, phone calls, errands, or making and stressing out about money. None of that crap even existed anymore. Life was now about basics: food, shelter, relaxation, and love. He’d learn about farming and fixing things and generating off-the-grid power. He’d get his hands dirty and keep his nose clean.
Life was better than ever, and it was about to get better still.
But then Hughes came inside and said, “Everybody down on the floor.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The herd came from the west, from the direction of the ferry terminal and the other two towns. Hughes had known all along that this might happen. He’d seen no evidence, let alone proof, that everyone had evacuated the island. They had only evacuated Eastsound. And now they were back, shuffling along the road in a daze.
They didn’t see Hughes as he shut himself and the others inside.
Frank flattened himself against the front wall as Annie, Parker, and Kyle hit the deck next to Hughes. Then Kyle craned his head up toward the window. “What did you see?”
The dumb shit was going to get everyone killed.
“Keep your damn head down,” Hughes whispered and yanked the back of Kyle’s shirt.
Kyle got back down on the floor but propped himself up on his elbows.
The heavy curtains in the front window were parted, but a thin mesh curtain was drawn. It was hard to see through it into the house. Hughes had checked that from the front. He wasn’t able to see any detail at all through the mesh and the glare from the porch, but movement near the window might create visible shadows.
“The hell’s going on?” Kyle said.
“How many are out there?” Parker said.
“I saw maybe ten,” Hughes said, “before coming inside. Could be 1,000. Could be just ten. They’re walking, not running. They didn’t see me.”
“How do you know they aren’t townsfolk?” Kyle said.
Hughes wanted to punch him. “They are the townsfolk.”
“Let me see,” Kyle said and craned his head up again. “I don’t hear any—”
Hughes yanked Kyle back down again and gave him his I’m-going-to-stomp-your-ass-rightfuckingnow look. “You move in front of that curtain, and it’ll be the siege at the grocery store all over again. But this time they’ll bust right on in.”
“You’re fucking dead, Kyle,” Parker said.
“Shh,” Hughes whispered. “Shut your ass up. They’re right outside.”
Hughes could hear them shuffling up the street now. They didn’t walk the same as regular people. They ran more or less the same as regular people, but they staggered when they walked as if they were drunk. The herd outside seemed to have no particular destination in mind. They just stumbled into town as if they had nowhere better to go.
They probably wouldn’t try to get into the house without a reason, so as long as everyone stayed down and kept quiet, everything should be fine. As long as none of them shambled onto the porch and peered in the window. The glare and the mesh wouldn’t work so well from that close.
The bathroom down the hall had only one small window, and since bathrooms are private, the window was high enough off the ground outside that no one—and no thing—could see in without standing on a stepladder or something.
“You all get into the bathroom,” Hughes whispered, “and lock the door. Don’t walk. Crawl. And do it quietly. Crawl slowly. Sound really carries.”
“You staying here?” Frank said.
Hughes nodded.
“But—” Kyle said.
“Just go,” Hughes said. “Now. And be quiet.”
They went. He stayed. And he peeked ever so carefully through the mesh over the windowsill.
As many as three dozen filthy, tattered, and diseased human forms dragged their feet at quarter-speed up the street. Their eyes seemed not to focus on anything in particular, as if they were looking through, over, or past things rather than at things. War veterans called it the thousand-yard stare.
They didn’t look like that at all when something caught their attention. Then they looked focused.
Five-thousand people lived on the island, but they couldn’t all have turned. Most were probably dead, their bodies consumed, their bones scattered somewhere back near the ferry terminal—the plague’s likely insertion point on the island.
Eastsound’s population must have driven there to wait for a boat to take them to Friday Harbor as Kyle had said. But something went wrong. Maybe they waited for a boat that never came, or the boat showed up with a bunch of the infected on board.
And they must have heard Hughes’ gunshot the first morning and headed back in the direction of town. But if that was the case, why did it take them so long to show up? Maybe they heard the sound but didn’t know exactly where it came from
, so they just started ambling about in that general direction. He should have thought of that. Damn, he should have thought of that.
The herd turned left off Main Street and headed right toward the house. Hughes fought the urge to duck. They wouldn’t be able to make out the details of his face through the mesh, but they might see sudden movement. If they attacked the house, they’d be inside in seconds. And there would be nowhere to run but out the back door.
Hughes and the others might make it out. They could run for the water. The shore was only 200 or so feet away. How long did it take to run 200 feet? Thirty seconds? The horde would come after them, but they’d get away if they had a fifteen-second head start.
But the herd was between the house and the water. And they just kept coming, more and more of them now. Another two dozen came into view from the west. The nearest ones were less than 100 feet away and coming straight toward him.
* * *
Annie heard two things: her own heartbeat in her ears and the heavy breathing of four panicked people. One tiny window at head level let only a small amount of heavy gray light in, but she didn’t dare stand anywhere near it. Neither did Kyle, Parker, or Frank.
Kyle sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub with his face in his hands. Frank sat splayed out, stunned, on the floor. Parker stood near the sink and flexed his fingers like he wanted to strangle the infected to death in the street. She leaned with her ear against the door leading into the hallway, straining to hear even the tiniest sound.
“I can’t believe it,” Kyle said. She felt a fresh rush of panic. Be quiet already.
“If you don’t shut up right now,” Parker whispered in a voice that sounded like hissing, “I’m going to beat you to death.”
Annie placed her hand on Parker’s shoulder.
“What do we do?” Frank whispered.
Nobody said anything for a few moments. Finally, Parker said quietly, “Let them pass. They obviously don’t know we’re here.”
Resurrection: A Zombie Novel Page 20
