Darlene sat up. “Want to talk about it?”
“Shit, what’s to talk about? Ninety percent of the world died and tried to kill the other ten percent. We happen to be the unlucky ten percent. I’m sure everyone and everything you loved is long gone as well. No use crying over it.”
“I guess so. Want a beer?”
“Nah, but feel free to drink me out of house and home.”
Darlene laughed. “I’d be more than happy to help around this place. It could use a woman’s touch.”
“I suppose so. I can always get more beer.”
“How?”
“That’s a trade secret, missy.”
Darlene went to the refrigerator and grabbed the last Corona. “Where in Hell are we, anyway?”
“We’re about five miles from Hammond Beach, and about twenty south of St. Augustine.”
“How are we safe?”
Murph laughed and slapped his knee. “I forgot. You were passed out when John-John brought you here. Come with me.”
He led her through the front door. A cool ocean breeze made her smile as she stepped out onto a porch and stared at the ocean. The sun was setting behind her, shadows under the house. “We’re in a stilt house?” she said with a laugh.
“Twenty feet above the ground. They can’t reach us up here. Or there,” Murph said and pointed to a nearby house. “Or there.” Darlene counted ten stilt houses strung across the beach in a perfect line. “Every house is occupied or was occupied.”
“By who?”
“Survivors. Let’s get inside before we’re spotted.”
“By who?”
Murph laughed. “The living bastards that can still climb a ladder.”
Back inside, they took their spots in the living room. Murph sat down in a well-worn chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I’d still give my left one for a nice Big Mac.”
“I never thought I’d have a breakfast of bacon and eggs again.”
“I have some fish in the freezer for tomorrow. Most nights I make some grilled veggies and toss in a baked potato. Sound good?”
“If you let me I can make something special.”
“I’m listening.”
Darlene rose and went to the kitchen. “I can make a stew with the potatoes and veggies. Do you have cans of chicken broth?”
“I think I have two cans of beef broth in the cabinet. Never knew what to do with them.”
“Perfect. Come on, Murph, I’m going to teach you how to make Bobich Stew.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Together they cooked, Murph following directions and cutting the vegetables while Darlene prepared the potatoes and the broth. Once dinner was ready they went back to their spots and ate in silence.
“I’ll clean the dishes. Least I can do.” Darlene was feeling a bit tipsy from the beer and after the great meal she wanted to crawl back into that bed and sleep for a week.
“I need to dress that wound again,” Murph said. “Don’t want my new houseguest up and dying on me. Especially since she can cook and do dishes.”
Darlene tensed when she heard footsteps outside. She went for her Desert Eagle, still on the table, but Murph waved her off. “It’s John-John. He does that tapping noise on the top of the ladder to let me know it’s him.”
“You can’t be too safe.”
“I agree.”
The door opened and John-John stepped inside, carrying a backpack and a compound bow over his shoulder. His blue eyes locked onto Darlene. When she smiled at him he looked away and put his gear down.
“What kind of bow is that?” she asked.
“Jennings Cobra. I have three of them.”
“Nice. What kind of arrows do you use?”
John-John shrugged. “Whatever I can find. We raided a sporting goods store about six months back and found a pallet of them, all different kinds.”
“He’s gotten pretty good at it. He can hit a zombie in the face from a hundred feet,” Murph said.
“I guess I got lucky you hit me here,” Darlene said and gently tapped her arm.
John-John gritted his teeth. “You had no business trying to fight so many of them. I couldn’t get a clear shot at the ones closest to you.”
“Relax, I was teasing.” Darlene sat down on the couch and stared at John-John. He was a younger image of his father, a few years older than her but in great physical shape. Under his gray T-shirt she could see his well-defined body, his arms popping out of his sleeves. He was built, and he was cute. She couldn’t help stare at the bulge in his jeans. What’s wrong with me? Oh, yeah, I haven’t been laid in months.
“John-John and I share this house and the next one over. We use that one for supplies, weapons and such.”
“John, please call me John.” He shot a look at his father. “I haven’t been John-John since I was twelve.”
“You’ll always be John-John.” Murph stood. “It’s time for bed. You kids get some rest as well. Big day tomorrow.”
They both wished him a good night and John took his father’s seat.
“What’s tomorrow?” Darlene asked.
“What?”
“He said something about a big day tomorrow.”
John laughed. “He says that every night. For thirty-five years I’ve been hearing that line.”
He’s thirty-five, Darlene thought, and made a mental note. Only seven years older and hot as Hell. She smiled.
“What’s the matter?”
“What do you mean?” Darlene asked. She twirled her hair and tried to look casual when she took another swig of beer.
“Nothing.” John rose. “I need to get some sleep. I actually have a big day ahead of me tomorrow. We’re running low on supplies and I need to take a run up to St. Augustine and see if I can get some work or trade.”
“Need company?”
John hesitated. “We’ll see. Good-night. There are two vacant houses, so if you are planning on staying I’m sure Griff will let you have one.”
“Who’s Griff?”
“I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow. Nothing much goes on without Griff and Peter and Kayla knowing. I’m sure they have a hundred questions for you.”
Without another word John retired to a back bedroom.
Darlene was hoping for a seductive look, even a glance back when he walked out, but she got nothing. She heard his door close and heard the lock engage. She didn’t blame him; these days the living were just as awful as the dead.
Darlene finished her beer and decided to slip into bed and think about her day until she passed out.
Chapter Nine
Darlene was disappointed but not surprised when she woke the next morning and saw that John had already left. Murph had a pot of coffee brewing and he was scrambling eggs. “Morning, missy,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”
“Haven’t slept like that in, well, months. It sure beats sleeping in dumpsters and in abandoned houses.”
“I would imagine.” Murph slid some eggs onto two plates.
Darlene poured coffee for them and sat at the table. “How long have you lived here?”
“About four months.”
“Really? I just assumed this had always been your home.”
“Fat chance. These stilt houses go for close to a million bucks… well, they did before. When we got here this one was empty so we moved in. Pretty much everything you see was already here.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“Pensacola. Born and raised in Florida.” Murph forked some eggs. “I’m guessing from that accent that you’re from either Boston or Rhode Island.”
“A bit farther north. I’m from Maine. Born and raised, as they say.”
“Ever been to Florida before all this?”
“No, I had never been farther south than Manhattan. How about you?”
“Never been farther than Virginia myself. I’ve never even seen snow in person.”
“You haven’t missed much. I just spent a win
ter buried in it in Baltimore and it was not fun.”
“I’m getting too old to keep moving, but if I had a chance I’d love to go up there and see it before I die.”
“If I never see another snowflake I’ll be happy. If I never see the temperature dip below thirty-two I’ll be happy as well.” Darlene sipped her coffee. “God, how I miss having good coffee.”
“That’s the last of it for awhile, I’m afraid.”
“Can we get more?” Darlene blurted. She felt foolish for saying it, like a spoiled brat.
“Eventually. It depends on what gets flown in and what we have to trade.”
“John went to St. Augustine to get supplies?”
“Yes, and to trade if possible. We’re running low on everything right now.”
“I’m sorry.” Darlene put her coffee mug down. “I thought you had enough food. I’m imposing.”
“I always welcome the company. And I imagine you’ll only be sticking around for a few days.”
Darlene frowned. “Is my welcome over?”
Murph laughed. “Not at all. But most people that stumble upon us and don’t want to raid us stay a few days before moving on to the safety of St. Augustine.”
“Why don’t you?”
Murph waved his hand. “I’m too damn old to climb down the ladder to this place. Damn near shit when I got up here. I’m actually afraid of heights. John does all of the running for the two of us and I inventory what we have, clean, cook, all of that. Truth be told I’m more of a burden to my kid.”
“It sounds like you hold your own.”
“I suppose.” Murph winked. “I suppose you’re just trying to be nice.”
“Whatever.” Darlene put the coffee mug to her lip but stopped.
“Something wrong?”
“The Sig Sauer.”
“What about it?” Murph said and smiled. He patted his hip. “That’s the longest in five years it’s been away from me.”
“I took it off of someone.”
“I imagine that would be Carl.”
“Lazy eye?”
“Yeah, that’s Carl. He was only here for two days before he grabbed the gun, a box of food, the rest of the water, and my new pair of boots. Where is he now?”
“Near Hammond Beach.”
“Doing what?” Murph said and grinned. “I’m guessing Carl didn’t give you the Sig because you’re so damn cute.”
“Stranger things have happened, right?”
“I can’t argue that.” Murph pulled the weapon from his waistband and put it on the table. “It’s actually yours now. You found it fair and square. My loss is your gain.”
Darlene put a hand on the gun. “True. Thanks for giving it back.”
Murph laughed. “This is actually the spot where you tell me, ‘no, no, I can’t separate a man from his prized weapon, you saved my life, you keep it.’ Anything I’m saying make sense?”
“Nope.” Darlene made to put the Sig Sauer in her own waistband. Laughing, she put it back on the table. “Just fucking with you, Murph.”
“And a great sense of humor, too? God, what a package you are.”
Darlene cleared the table when they were done. “Now what?”
“Now I usually sit and wait for him to return.” Murph sat on the couch. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Seriously? I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie, or heard a song, anything. This guy Jonathan, he was part of the Rear Guard, and I used to work with him and a couple of others. We’d watch the caravan from the back and make sure nothing snuck up on us, whether it was alive or dead. Jonathan had an MP3 player. He used to let me listen to songs when we were resting. Unfortunately the batteries died and he was always hoping to find more.”
“Did he ever?”
Darlene sat down. “No. He died.”
“He was one of them?”
“Yes, and it was my fault. I… I shot him, it was pure instinct. I…”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
Darlene wiped a tear from her eye. “I’d rather not.”
“Fair enough. Why don’t you go and see if you like one of the movies?”
Darlene went to the DVD rack to the left of the plasma TV and browsed the titles. “I’m guessing a guy lived here.”
“My kind of guy.”
“John Wayne movies, Bruce Willis, Clint Eastwood, a ton of war movies, westerns, Charlton Heston, Stallone, Chuck Norris… not one chick flick.”
“I threw those into the ocean.”
Darlene shot him a dirty look.
“Just teasing, missy. I think this was some rich guy’s Man Lair.”
“His what?”
“I found not only all of these macho movies but a huge box of pornographic movies and magazines, as well as enough alcohol to inebriate Miami. There were guns, ammo, flak vests, an SUV and a couple of jet-ski’s down below, and a drawer filled with various condoms and sexual devices. Whoever this guy was, he was a player, as the young kids say.”
“Where’s all that stuff now?”
Murph shrugged. “Most of it is worthless, to be realistic. I traded most of it away for food and water.”
“You kept these shitty movies?”
“They are classics. Most of them, anyway. A man needs entertainment in these harsh times or he’d go stir crazy. We still have some of the alcohol, a case of rum somewhere.”
“What about the guns? The SUV?”
“Worthless. I traded the guns and ammo for one of the bows John-John uses, and some clothes. Guns are too loud; they get the dead coming for miles with a single shot. The SUV and jet-skis were traded for a case of soda and fresh-cut meat. We ate steaks for a week.”
“Got any left?”
“We don’t have much left. I imagine we have another week of supplies for the three of us. Unless, of course, you move on.”
“I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for awhile, if that’s alright with you. This is the first normal place I’ve been in since I can remember. No sense leaving just now, right? Besides, we have to watch every one of these shitty movies before I can go anywhere.”
“I hear ya.”
“How about we start with Rocky and then Jaws?”
“Fine with me. If I start to snore just kick me.”
“Same goes for me.”
Chapter Ten
Griff wasn’t what Darlene expected. He was short, balding, with greasy hair and a greasy smile, pushing seventy. His clothes were unkempt and dirty, even though Darlene supposed he had access to a washer and dryer like Murph. Griff looked like his wardrobe and personal hygiene hadn’t changed since the world went nuts.
Kayla, on the other hand, was in her forties and beautiful. Darlene wasn’t into other women but she had to admire the way Kayla carried herself. The AK-47 in her strong hands didn’t hurt, either. She wore a simple gray T-shirt, tight black jeans and Doc Marten boots. Her red hair was tied back and she wore no makeup. She was a natural beauty and didn’t really need it. Darlene noticed a few freckles dotting her cheeks and nose.
“See anything you like?” Kayla said to Darlene as she shouldered the AK-47.
Darlene blushed and looked away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Kayla winked. “You’re pretty hot yourself.”
Griff shot her a dirty look. “Enough with your lesbian bullshit for once. Every gal you see doesn’t want to jump in bed with you.”
“Not all, but some.” Kayla smiled and licked her bottom lip. “Definitely this one.”
“Thanks, but I prefer a man in my bed,” Darlene said.
“Jesus.” The other person before Darlene was Peter, and by his face it was obvious he was related to Griff and Kayla. He was pudgy around his middle but his arms were massive. His red-blonde hair flowed down his shoulders in curly locks, his face a bushy beard. “Can’t we ever talk to chicks without you hitting on them?”
“Nope.” Kayla patted him on the back. “Besides, you have no shot with this one, Petey
. She’s way out of your league.”
Peter glanced at Darlene and then looked at his father for help. Griff just shrugged and spit tobacco juice over the edge of the deck. Darlene had gone to see Griff and his family just before dark. Murph had simply told her which stilt house.
“I’m too damn old to climb the ladder. Do me a favor, though, and ask Griff if he has any chewing tobacco. Tell him I’ll pay him next time he comes up to see me,” Murph said.
A day of lounging, watching movies and napping had put Darlene in a great frame of mind but she was sluggish. She could get used to this easy life and almost forget about the reality of what was going on not far from here, and all over the world.
“So…” Darlene said uneasily. Kayla was coming on way too strong; Peter was trying desperately to check out her ass and boobs without being caught, and so far Griff hadn’t said much of anything.
Griff spit again and then opened the door. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”
Darlene entered and smiled when she heard Griff tell his kids to stay outside. For emphasis he locked the door. “Have a seat. They’ll come in through the backdoor in a bit. For now, we can talk in peace.”
“Nice place you have here.”
Griff shrugged. “It’s not mine.” He sat heavily in the chair and groaned. “I suppose it is mine now, but truth be told I wish I was back home in South Carolina preparing to die.”
“That’s an odd way of looking at it.”
“I suppose you could make that argument.” Griff pulled a small clear baggie from his pocket and tossed it to Darlene. “That’s for Murph. Lord knows he pushed you over here for some chaw. Tell him he owes me.”
“Will do.”
Griff sat up in his chair. “Let’s cut to the chase, because I’m not getting any younger. Why are you here?”
“I’m just trying to survive.”
“Are you planning on going up to St. Augustine?”
“I hadn’t planned anything. From the way Murph was talking I don’t know if I have a real choice.”
“What do you mean?” Griff pulled another baggie from his pocket and took a pinch, putting the tobacco in his mouth. “Everyone has a choice.”
Dying Days Page 12
