Melanie floored the gas and rammed the flabby cannibal, sending the body sailing over the hood of the Rover. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the boarding area. Gore obscured the windshield, making it nearly impossible to see, so Melanie switched on the wipers.
Leila heaved open the passenger door, leaned out, and vomited.
***
“There’s the possibility the open waters might be the end of us,” Milo said a bit too cheerfully. “Then, of course, what’s the alternative? I’d take drowning over being eaten any day. Wouldn’t you, Tomas?”
The ferry was designated for metro transportation, built for harbor cruises, not open sea. Tomas didn’t particularly like the idea of either death, but he agreed that he would prefer drowning to being lunch for some Rager.
Milo insisted he had enough diesel fuel to get them across the narrow scrape of the North Sea. They’d need to refuel in Frederikshavn, Denmark, and Tomas wondered how tricky that might be. The boat was bound to drawn attention, especially if it was lit up like a Christmas tree.
Much of the food on the ferry was frozen, but Tomas relished preparing a meal of packaged burgers and fries, washed down by a bucketful of Coca-Cola and followed by a few squares of precious chocolate. He, Christopher, Melanie, and Milo ate like royalty while Leila vanished into the adjacent bar area to sample as many of the wines she could before passing out.
“Why do you not just live on board?” Melanie asked between bites of her burger.
Milo shrugged a bit shyly. “Don’t know, really. First, I’d have to anchor somewhere far from land. Otherwise, I’m sure those sickos would do whatever they could to get at me.”
“But still,” Melanie said. “Food, electricity, hot water—it’s paradise, almost.”
“But if I had done that, I would have never been around to meet you, would I?” Milo replied with a wink.
“I suppose not.”
Tomas drew a ketchup moustache on Christopher, who puckered his small, red lips and then giggled uproariously. It seemed like days since he’d last heard that beautiful sound.
“I haven’t left because I have a younger sister and niece in Tjörn,” Milo volunteered. He uncorked a surprisingly earthy bottle of Carménère. “I keep hoping they might come looking for me.”
“You didn’t go looking for them?” Melanie asked.
Tomas wished she hadn’t gone into that, but the wine had made her tongue a bit loose. Another time, he would have thought it endearing.
Milo dropped his eyes to his lap. “No. I didn’t. What if I didn’t find them? And what if I did? Some things are best left unknown.”
Tomas reached across the table and squeezed the older man’s arm. “I understand.”
“I’m not sure you do, Tomas, because it makes little sense. If I know what happened to them, all hope is gone. If I don’t know, there is always the possibility.” Milo refilled their glasses. “We all need hope.”
“Then, here’s to hope,” Tomas said, raising his glass. The alcohol spread like warm honey throughout his body, making his limbs feel wonderfully leaden. The excitement of finding Sanctuary made him feel like a boy on Christmas morning.
After dinner and two bottles of wine, Tomas left Christopher sleeping in the small cabin he had selected, one as far from Leila’s as possible. She no longer cared for Tomas, but the child was her life’s light, as he was Tomas’s. She would try and take the boy before she turned in, if she wasn’t too wasted. Tomas would lock the cabin. She had grown irrational and worse, suicidal. He couldn’t trust her with his child.
Electricity felt foreign to him after days of going without it. He decided to sleep with the lights on and crank the heat in his cabin up to ninety degrees. The cabins were for day-travelers and crew. The décor was 1970s tacky-nautical, and the furnishings smelled of cedar and must. The bedding was adequate at best, but sleeping in light and warmth was a luxury. He might search the boat for a radio, as well. Perhaps another broadcast from Zombie Radio X would give a better indication of Sanctuary’s location.
From the deck, he could see Gothenburg blazing with fires like angry red eyes against the blanket of black. Watching the city of his childhood burn away to ash gave him a sickening feeling. The ferry’s engine coughed from time to time, then hummed like a tone-deaf old man the rest of the time.
Milo had moved to the bridge, muttering about navigation, or more exact, the lack of it. They were moving in the right direction, but it was difficult to discern if another vessel might lie stalled in their path.
Melanie joined Tomas after a few moments. “Hi.” The wind blew her hair, revealing the face of not a girl, but a woman. She was almost a stranger to him, yet so familiar. Her cheeks glowed, even in the sparse light. She pulled a half-full bottle of wine from inside her coat and held it up like a trophy. “Shall we go ahead and get completely smashed? This might be the last time we can relax without a monster tearing at our jugulars, you know.” She took a long, undignified swig and passed the bottle to him.
“Why not?” he asked, looking at her pointedly. “You really took to wine at university, huh?”
“Not so much. I didn’t really start drinking until the world ended.” She tapped her fingers against the side of the bottle, four and then the thumb with her right hand, four and then the thumb with her left. Tap, tap, tap, tap… Tap.
He tried to ignore it. He had taught her to do it as a trick for the breathing, but unfortunately, the tapping had morphed into a nervous habit. “I see. That’s not exactly a great attitude.”
“Sorry,” she said, feigning petulance. “I’ve never had to deal with the apocalypse before. I don’t know the protocol.”
“Neither do I. But what I cannot have is another version of Leila.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, Tomas. I’m hardly like she is. I’m really nuts.”
“Don’t say that, Melanie. You’re not nuts.” He held out his hand. “Come over here.” Melanie pressed to his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?” She took another drink of wine, then thrust the bottle at him. “Leila’s losing it, Tomas. She wants us to give up. She wants us all to die. She would do it herself, but she’s too afraid.”
That comment made him uncomfortable. Would Leila do something stupid? He’d read about women who’d lost it and killed their own kids. The lack of sunshine could cause depression, and Leila had never been a happy person. Was she hurt that her lover—her precious accountant—hadn’t come for her? Perhaps he’d perished or become infected. She hadn’t mentioned him, but Tomas could tell she was lost.
“Look,” Melanie said breathlessly. She gestured with the wine bottle toward the sky. Northern lights churned blue, green, and yellow, like a livid bruise. “It’s incredible.”
“That it is,” Tomas agreed, enjoying her wonderment. He took the wine and drank another sip. The fires on the shores seemed very small, like the orange pinpoints of a cigarette from a long distance. Without the bottle to occupy at least one hand, Melanie began to tap again. She counted under her breath, four right, four left, then again.
Finally, Tomas placed his hand over hers, then lifted her hand to examine it. “How’s that finger?” It looked swollen and stuck straight out. “Can you bend it?”
“Actually, I forgot about it.”
“What about the asthma? Do you have enough medicine?”
Melanie pulled her hand away. “I have a little left. I’d stopped relying on it so much and things were going well, until I realized people eating other people sorta freaked me out.”
“Join the club,” Tomas said, laughing softly. “Join the club.
December 30
Chapter 21
London, England
Sleep held Stu in its grasp, but even in his deepest slumber, he wondered what might have happened to his precious Maddy. He dreamed of her running from those monsters, those “Ragers,” how they clawed at her pale flesh, making stripes of crimson on
her thin arms and narrow back. When she cried out, she cursed him for not being there with her.
He flailed his arms, kicking away his sleeping bag, and was vaguely aware of someone placing the cover back over him. He shook his head to clear the hateful nightmare, but immediately dove back into his bleak dream world. When he saw Maddy again, her eyes were white, and her pink Carolina Panthers T-shirt was stained with blood. He no longer recognized her as his baby. When she reached to embrace him, he fled, weeping.
Finally, he awoke, sweating through his shirt and trousers. His hair lay against his skull like a damp cloth. Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been warm. Bleary-eyed, he looked around the tent. Everything seemed so damned bright. Maybe everything—the darkness, the Ragers, Nathan's and Brett’s deaths—had been some kind of crazy dream.
He threw back the flap and stuck his head out of the tent.
No. Hell, no. Everything was just as he had left it when he had fallen asleep, except the market had heat and a little more light. At least that was something, he supposed. If only he could make a few phone calls…
Just a few yards down the aisle, Davis kicked a soccer ball with Tana and George. Tana shuffled to the side, graceful as a cat, made a clean tap, and passed the ball again. Then, she turned to face Stu. He saw her in full light, and again her beauty struck him. Her dark skin glowed naturally, and her hair curled against her neck. She smiled, but it was impossible not to see the despair in her face. Stu knew he carried that same look… almost. He still had some hope inside him. His child might very well be all right. He had to believe that, anyway. Otherwise, he would have nothing else to keep him going. He was beginning to feel Tana might be another reason to go on, but he wondered if she wanted to be saddled with that burden.
He found a clean change of clothes in the employees lockers then went to linens and chose a bath towel and wash cloth from a shelf. In the toiletry area, he found a good disposable razor, shampoo much more expensive than the brand he normally used, and body wash that smelled “like a man.”
He headed off toward the employee showers, almost happy for a moment. He relished the notion of a hot shower, but reckoned the sudden access to more light and heat was what had really lifted his mood. George had insisted they be conservative, so only half the overheads were on. The light was not as important as heat, but he was still sick of living in the shadows. He twisted the hot all the way open, added a little cold, then stepped inside. His happiness was short-lived as the water rinsed the grogginess away. His mind turned to his students, two of whom were gone. Was Brett dead or had he become infected? Stu wondered which would be more horrible. If things were better back in the States, how would he ever be able to face that boy’s parents?
He gasped, closed his eyes, and turned his face up into the spray. He’d left Brett behind, fleeing like a stupid little boy. Would he have left his own child?
Maybe I already have.
He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the cool tile, and allowed the tears to flow, the sobs racking his chest.
“Stu?” Tana said, startling him.
He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself before responding. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Y-yes. Why?” He blinked against the sting of hot water, trying to make out Tana’s vague shape through the fog of steam.
She moved closer, materializing from the vapor like a dark goddess. “You don’t mind if I join you?”
He couldn’t seem to find his voice.
“Do you?”
“No,” he croaked.
She stepped under the water and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you sure?” She kissed him slowly, her tongue flicking across his open lips, then slipping inside his mouth deliciously.
“Are you kidding?” he asked.
Tana pressed her body against his, and he pushed his face into her neck, loving her musky scent. She reached around him, took the bar of soap, and worked it into a thick foam. Smiling devilishly, she glided her soapy hands across his chest and stomach. Teasingly, her fingers danced lower, finally reaching his aching erection. He almost came as soon as she touched him, but somehow succeeded in maintaining control.
He explored her taut body slowly, savoring every curve with his hands, then traced the outlines of her nipples with his tongue. Finally, he pressed her against the wall.
Hooking her leg around his waist, she guided him inside her. Frantically, he thrust against her as he whispered her name against her throat. As her orgasm hit her, she drew her nails down his back and over his buttocks. His climax followed, his knees threatening to come unhinged, his breaths quick and shallow. Afterward, they stood under the shower, holding each other until their hearts slowed back to normal.
“So, how do you feel?” Tana asked.
“A little like Charlton Heston in Omega Man.”
She pulled away and began to bathe. “Yeah. I’m not going to pretend to understand that one.”
“It was a stupid joke.” He found the razor, lathered his face, and blindly shaved. “I’m so glad to be able to see you in the light.”
Tana laughed. “You didn’t know I was black, did you?”
“I had some idea,” Stu said, chuckling. “My redneck father is probably turning over in his grave.”
Tana rinsed and then peered at Stu intently. “Missed a spot,” she said, then kissed him on the tip of his nose.
Chapter 22
Kiel, Germany
Milo told Tomas they didn’t need to refuel in Denmark, but by the time the ferry coasted into the straits that led into the Kiel Harbor, it was doing just that—coasting. Milo had shut off the engine a mile prior to allow the currents carry the boat. Tomas instructed Melanie to keep Christopher inside the cabins until they docked. He had the sick feeling they were dead in the water, so to speak, moving so slowly through the area. He stood by, helpless, watching the jagged, black line of shore on either side.
Milo shut off most of the ferry lights, and the ferry cruised blindly, a lethargic slug easing along the channel. Small pleasure boats and mammoth freighters sat like ghost ships. A Stena Line cruise ship, as dark as a cave, cut a boxy line against the funky blue-green sky. Luckily, the currents had pushed most of the smaller crafts to the edge of the waterway, clearing a narrow, but manageable path.
Tomas spotted movement on the bank where dark shapes gathered in small groups. The figures had the jerky, hyperactive movements of the Ragers. The ferry slipped into the harbor. From there, the view opened up a bit, and Tomas could see the city spread wide. There were fires, but nowhere as bad as Gothenburg.
Milo started the engine so he could more easily maneuver the boat. Carefully, he guided it toward an unoccupied docking slip that seemed low enough to disembark the Rover safely. Anchored across the harbor was the sailing vessel, the Gorch Fock. Its majestic masts reached upward, the sails unfurled, but torn away in most places. They waved in the breeze like broken-winged angels.
Tomas checked his pistol. He didn’t like the movement of the gangs along the shore.
“We’re being watched,” Milo commented as he throttled down. The ferry came to a hard stop against the slip, jostling Tomas against the wall.
“I know,” Tomas replied. “And I don’t think it’s a welcoming committee.”
***
Melanie ushered Bo into the Rover, then climbed into the backseat next to Christopher. She buckled Christopher into his booster seat as Tomas and Leila settled in the front.
Before Tomas could get the engine started, Leila had tugged the cork from the half-empty bottle of wine between her thighs. There was another bottle at her feet, as well, sloshing as it rolled on the floorboard. She didn’t speak. She only turned up the bottle and drank loudly while staring straight ahead.
Melanie climbed into the backseat and buckled in Christopher, then herself. “Okay, Mr. Weller. Come on.” She’d moved over as far as she could, leaving room for him.
Milo stood besi
de the Rover a moment, seemingly debating. Then smiling, he closed the door and stepped away. “Go. Quickly!”
“Milo. Please,” Tomas said.
“Off with you. Now. I have to go back home and wait for my people.”
Melanie grabbed his arm through the open window. “You said some things were best left unknown.”
Milo laughed. “Don’t use my words against me, dear.” He took her hand and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles. “Go, Tomas. Get your family to safety.”
Tomas moved off the ferry and onto the road. Headlights off, he cruised through the empty city. The sky swirled with colors, eerie, yet beautiful. Melanie turned and looked back at the ferry. Every light on the vessel was on, creating a beacon in the center of a world of darkness. It didn’t appear to be moving away from the slip.
“What’s he doing, Tomas?” Melanie asked, though she already knew. She wanted to weep, but what was the use in that? Instead, she drummed a steady rhythm on her knees and counted.
“Don’t look back, Melanie,” Tomas said.
The streets had been recently used. Tire marks cut through the snow, making the driving a little easier than back in Sweden. They sporadically encountered abandoned automobiles, and Tomas maneuvered the Rover around them. Melanie thought she saw lights in some of the windows of homes and apartments. A silhouette of the famous McDonald’s arches appeared ahead, like black pen lines against a canvas of swirling colors.
Christopher asked to stop.
“You know fast food is bad for you, Christopher,” Leila said, her words a distorted mess.
***
Tomas switched on the headlights as they moved toward the edge of the city and pushed the gas pedal a little harder. He noticed headlights in the rearview mirror shortly after moving out of the city. It was unnerving, but he kept it to himself. The radio stayed on, the volume low, and Tomas periodically pressed the channel search on the steering wheel to scan for more broadcasts. They had heard nothing else since Gothenburg, and he wondered if he’d been too hasty. But they were halfway across Germany, so there was no turning back.
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