by Brenda Novak
“Where to?” Sandy asked him as they turned on to Roosevelt.
“Let’s stop by Colby’s house,” he said. He hoped against hope that maybe she had gone there.
No good.
When he entered the house, something came flying at him; he almost drew his gun.
It was Waldorf.
“Happy to see me, eh, boy?”
He tried to put the cat down. Waldorf’s claws dug into him. He muttered beneath his breath, struggling to remove Waldorf’s claws without too much of his clothing or skin.
Suddenly, Waldorf jumped down—and out into the yard. Swearing, he turned to race after the cat, nearly crashing into Sandy.
“We’ll get him, don’t worry—he’ll head under my car.”
Waldorf did as she said. Between the two of them, they coaxed him out.
Sandy told him, “I know a good vet. Might save the cat’s life to leave him there until Colby is back.”
Quinn had to agree. He hurried back into the house. He called Danni’s name as he went room to room to room.
She wasn’t there.
He looked up toward the attic and then raced up the stairs. Boxes and masks and everything in place.
Downstairs he checked that the windows and doors remained locked. Then he met Sandy back outside.
“Where now?”
“She didn’t go back to the station?” he asked.
She hadn’t; he knew that. But it was hope against hope.
Sandy called in; no, Danni wasn’t there.
“The bar at the end of Duval, where the film people hang out,” Quinn said. He remembered Danni’s message. Was one of them somehow guilty? Was Andrew trying to create an aura of something truly paranormal about his film?
Cars clogged the streets; people were leaving in a frenzy, so it seemed. They passed a bearded man in tattered clothes bearing a sign that read, “The end is near! Repent!”
“What a mess,” Sandy muttered.
Quinn agreed, but he was growing steadily more worried.
And they were barely moving.
“Sandy, thanks—can you let me out here?”
“Sure,” Sandy said. She pulled over.
Quinn hopped out of the car. “I’ll have my cell—call me, if anything. Please.”
“Of course!” she assured him. “And you call me—“
“I will.”
He headed over to Duval at a lope, then down toward Front Street. He saw the little sign advertising the bar just down a side street and he hurried there.
It was quiet. Almost deadly quiet. But, he saw a number of the film crew sitting beneath the thatched roof area by the secondary bar.
“Hey!” Andrew Bracken said, rising to meet him.
The girl introduced to him as Sasha—the one playing the monster in Lucinda--was with Andrew at a table. A number of other extras were there nearby, but he didn’t see Vanessa Green or the leading man, Joe Tybalt.
“Quinn!” Andrew called to him, surprisingly glad to see him. “You’re here—you’re not fleeing like the rats in such a hurry to get out of here.”
Quinn refrained from reminding him that rats were smart enough to flee from a sinking ship as he walked over to join him and Sasha at the table.
“Hey,” Sasha said.
“Hey,” he returned, and then he asked, “Andrew, Sasha, have either of you seen Danni?”
Andrew nodded. Relief flooded through Quinn.
But then Andrew said, “She was at the beach. You know, she’s a stunning woman. I wish she’d take part in the film. Actually, wish you’d take part in it, too. We have a scene coming up—once Kathy is back to do some writing—that involves a couple touring the cemetery. Before they get killed, of course. It has lines and everything. Oh, ooh—very bad taste at this moment, right?”
“Andrew, where is Danni now?” Quinn asked.
Andrew shook his head. “She was with us and then the girl came out of that pine forest screaming—I’m sorry, bad taste or not, that’s some footage, reality, you know?—and then she was super smart. I heard she’s the one who told the cops to look back in the pines when everyone was heading for the girl. They found one, you know.”
“Zombie-nun,” Quinn said.
Andrew nodded sagely. “After that, I don’t know. Hey, you have an in with the police, right? Maybe you can find out what’s going on. They’re going to have to talk to the public—if they want to have any tourists left!”
“Maybe I’ll do that. Where are your stars?” he asked.
“Hanging tight together—deciding on a place for dinner. I think that the natives are mostly staying—I mean, they have no homes outside of here to go to, right? They’re all going to need whoever is still in the city. Man, this place is going to go down like a lead sinker if they don’t fix things fast!”
Andrew Bracken sounded almost cheerful.
Because the publicity could make his little cult flick a huge success.
“Ah, yeah, well, when you find out what you’re doing, will you give me a call?” he asked. “We’ll join up with you—once I find Danni.”
“Sure,” Andrew said cheerfully. He smiled. “Maybe I’ll take you into the film world.”
Quinn smiled.
Not in this lifetime, buddy!
He waved and headed out on to Duval. There were people scattered around the various bars on the street—all staying together.
All talking about the attack by the zombie-nun.
He searched through the crowds, stepped into every bar.
He’d been back in Key West nearly two hours now.
There was no sign of Danni.
Where the hell was she?
***
“All right. You’re going to tell me everything—absolutely everything—you know about these attacks,” Detective Ralph Mason told Danni.
They hadn’t gone to his station; they’d gone to his house on Angela Street. The officer who had driven was sitting in the living room reading a magazine.
He’d made her sit there for well over an hour, walking around, making tea—feeding his bird!
Detective Mason had Danni seated at his little yellow breakfast table. He paced around her and paused now and then to put his hands down on the table.
She was being interrogated, she knew. He just hadn’t taken her to the station.
“Quinn and I came to Marathon first to meet up with Colby Kennedy at his sister’s hospital room. That was the first I ever heard of zombie nuns—in my whole life. Sad to say, my cultural history does not include a viewing of Zombie Nuns of the Apocalypse. Kathy described the nun that attacked her—whether it really attacked her or it was her imagination, I don’t know.” She hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. “We found the one that Colby had purchased in the attic. We took the batteries out of it and locked it up in the shed in back of his house.” She determined not to hesitate—if she did, she’d most probably look all the more guilty of something to the man. “It was a different doll that Davy Gray saw in the cemetery; I sketched that one from his description. But, you know that. You know that there were three dolls still in existence. Police found one in the woods today—and they will probably find that the girl who was attacked was attacked by that zombie nun—manipulated by someone, perhaps, but the animatronic was used in some way.”
Mason straightened and stood back, staring at her.
She’d told the truth.
And she realized that he knew it.
“Could you give me my phone back?” she demanded.
“Get up,” he told her.
“What?”
“I’m taking you to Colby’s house. And I’d better find a zombie nun in his shed,” Mason told her.
She stood and wagged a finger at him. “I don’t think that this is legal,” she warned him.
“I’m managing this case—the way I see fit,” he told her.
His officer—the driver—had already risen.
“We can walk to the house from here,” Danni s
aid.
“We’re driving; you’re with me and that’s the way it is,” Detective Ralph Mason said, drawing up all his dignity and irritation.
“If you would just return my phone—“
“So that you can call your accomplice and have him clean things up?” Mason demanded.
“Accomplice!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you are desperate, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Let’s go.”
Danni headed for the door; it was opened by the officer standing there.
As they left the house, she realized that it had grown dark. Quinn was certainly back—and probably combing the city for her.
Maybe he’d be at the house.
Mason sat in the backseat with her—as if wary that she might try to jump out.
The ride was just a matter of blocks.
They passed the cemetery. It was still guarded by a number of police cars. She wondered if she should cry out or try to flag down an officer. It would do her no good, she thought.
She was going by in a sheriff’s car.
The officer driving pulled up in front of Colby’s house. “Stay here,” Mason commanded the driver. “And you—open the house.”
Danni walked to the porch and opened the front door; Mason was right behind her.
His behavior was not what one would expect from an experienced detective. She was sure that the way he was treating her was illegal. She could complain later. For the moment, she had little choice but to do as he told her.
In the house, she turned on the lights.
Mason walked in and made a noise of disgust. He wasn’t a fan of movie memorabilia, she decided. He pointed at her. “Where’s the mannequin?”
“I told you—it’s in boxes in the shed,” Danni said. Her hopes that Quinn might have come to the house were not to be fulfilled. He wasn’t there. The house was silent.
“Lead the way,” Mason said.
She did, opening the back door and walking out to the small yard. The shed was just a few feet from the house. It was locked.
She looked through the key chain to find the key to the shed.
At last, she did.
“You’re stalling,” Mason said.
“I don’t live here,” she muttered.
She found the key and opened the shed. “There!” she announced.
“There—where?”
She turned in the shadows to stare into the shed.
The boxes were there.
The seals had been broken; they were empty.
“So, your boyfriend has been here,” Mason said. “I guess that’s it; you’re under arrest, Miss Cafferty.”
“Yes, please, arrest me!” Danni snapped. “I’ll get to make a phone call.”
“And warn your friend to take off?”
“Oh, no, Detective Mason. Quinn would never take off. And I promise you, he’ll see that you’re directing traffic on Duval within a night!”
Danni turned and strode back into the house, anxious to be arrested—and to get to a police station. Mason followed her into the house. She strode for the front door—in a hurry now to get back into the car and get to the station.
But Mason didn’t follow her then. He let out a startled scream.
She turned.
A zombie nun was standing in the house—between her and Mason.
Mason drew his gun.
Too late.
The zombie nun was on him.
“No!” Danni cried, racing for the thing, not at all sure of what she was going to do, but determined to get the thing off the man.
Where the hell did it come from? Did the thing manage to crawl out of the boxes and put itself back together?
She wrenched at it as it attacked Mason.
The police officer was down on his knees, grasping his throat.
The zombie nun turned. It stared at Danni with skeletal empty eyes and a gaping mouth that appeared to drip blood.
She turned and ran, heading as fast as she could for the police car, screaming for help.
The driver didn’t respond. She raced around to him and she quickly knew why; the man was dead.
Screaming as loudly as she could for anyone, help from anywhere, she turned back to the house.
It was still moving—the zombie nun.
And now….
It was coming after her.
Chapter 8
Quinn was nearly frantic.
He had combed bar after bar; he had shouted her name in the streets. He’d called the station again and her cell again. She had completely disappeared.
He decided to return to the house—and if she wasn’t there, he’d tear apart the police station until they sent every officer they had in search for her.
As he headed off Duval, he paused. There was a woman heading down the side street by the old Episcopal Church.
There was something about the way she moved.
She was alone; she walked with her head down and her shoulders hunched—in a hurry.
Quinn ran after her—then kept his distance, watching.
About a block in, she stopped and looked around.
He saw her face. It was Vanessa Green.
“Vanessa!” Quinn called her name and quickened his stride.
“Stop!” she cried, lifting a hand when he would have come close. As he neared her, she thought that she had a look of pure panic.
“Vanessa, its Quinn. Michael Quinn, from Louisiana.”
She nodded and looked around nervously. “What do you want?” she asked him.
“I’m looking for Danni. Have you seen her?”
“Earlier today,” Vanessa said. “She was at the beach.”
“Since then?”
“No, no—I haven’t seen her.” She swallowed and asked him, “Have you see Joe?”
“Joe Tybalt—your leading man?”
“Yes.”
“I saw Andrew and Sasha and some of the others, but not Joe.”
“Where could he be?” she whispered.
“I don’t know where Joe is, but, Vanessa, what are you doing? People are on Duval—your hotel is on Duval.”
“I don’t know!” she said. “I don’t know. I’m scared. We were together. We got separated at a bar…I thought I saw him go this way.”
“Vanessa,” Quinn said, “go back—go back to Duval. Call Andrew and meet up with him and the rest of your crew. Its not safe out here.”
She nodded. “Duval, yes, people!” she said. “I’ll watch for your Danni. I’ll watch for her.” She turned and raced past him—heading back for Duval.
Quinn watched her reach the street. And people. Even with so many deserting the island, he could still see groups on Duval.
Joe Tybalt was among the missing. Joe Tybalt had a lot to gain if the movie they were filming did exceptionally well. In fact, his career might depend on it.
But….
Was that reason enough to kill—and kill in such a bizarre manner?
He turned himself, his feeling of urgency growing. By the time he reached the house on Elizabeth Street, he was running.
At first, he was relieved to see the sheriff’s department car.
Then he saw that the dead man in it.
And the door to Colby Kennedy’s house gaping open.
He rushed in, his cell phone out, dialing 911 even as he entered the house.
There was a man on the floor in the parlor. He hurried to him, hunkering down.
Detective Mason.
There was blood pooled around him on the floor. But, when Quinn felt for a pulse, he found warmth—and a faint beat of life.
Mason had been cut; the slash, however, had missed the artery. Quinn quickly found a towel and wrapped it around the wound. As he did so, he lifted his head, a cry tearing from his lips.
“Danni!”
There was no answer. He could hear a siren coming; he couldn’t leave a dying man.
He couldn’t stay. He had to find Danni.
But, suddenly, he felt a weak touch o
n his arm. He looked down. Mason’s eyes were open. He was trying to speak.
“Zombie…gone…Danni…ran….”
Police burst into the house.
“Help him!” Quinn shouted.
And he was back out into the night himself.
***
Danni ran blindly at first—terrified, knowing that the thing was after her.
She realized where she was then, and where she had come from. She was close to Ralph Mason’s house on Angela Street.
Close to the cemetery—where a number of police cars were parked.
She ran toward the cemetery. But, when she arrived on the side street, the cars were gone. One ripped by her, its siren blazing.
Then another…and another.
She sucked in breath to let out a curse tear from her lips. Where were they all going?
In the growing dark, she could make out a figure.
And another figure, not far behind it.
She looped around the block and saw that the entrance to the cemetery had been left open.
Not surprising when the whole city was in panic.
The scraping sound came closer. If she ran straight down the block, she’d be easily seen.
And easily caught….
With all the police cars gone, there seemed to be little choice. She tore into the cemetery and ran quickly behind the old brick style tomb, hunching down behind it. She prayed that the zombie figure would walk on by.
But it didn’t. It paused at the entrance.
Then turned into the cemetery.
Moments later, she saw that it was coming her way, followed by one figure….
And then another.
Almost flat on the ground, Danni crawled away. There was a “stack” tomb just a few feet away. She made her way around it.
Then she heard whispering.
“She is in here; I saw her come in here.”
“No, she ran down the street!”
“Your fault—this got too carried away!”
She knew one of the voices. And the other…She wasn’t sure. Carefully, Danni looked around the cement of the tombs. Straight into the eyes of the zombie.
Somehow, she suppressed a scream. And she ran again, deeper and deeper into the cemetery. She still hadn’t seen the second figure.
