by Ariel Bonin
They arrived at the beach before Andrew could answer. Something about the long stretch of sand seemed off to him. Even though there was no sun, he squinted in an attempt to comprehend what exactly he was seeing. At first it looked like a cluster of large rocks, but then he realized that they were moving. His next guess was seals or manatees—those were common down here, right?
"The storm must have washed them up," Zoey said, walking ahead of him.
Brian shook his head. "I've never seen this many before."
As Andrew got closer to the nearest mystery object, Brian's remark made it all too obvious to him.
Turners.
There had to be almost a hundred of them scattered along the sand like mini beached whales. When he reached the first one, he instinctively contorted his face in disgust. The turner stretched its arms up to him, but was too heavy to move any further. The smell was horrendous, made worse by its retention of saltwater. Andrew couldn't tell if it had been a man or woman—the body was simply too bloated. He withdrew his knife and lightly prodded the turner's chest. Its skin was similar to that of a jellyfish—translucent and gelatinous. His gaze moved from the struggling cadaver and drifted down the infested beach.
"How the hell are we supposed to clean this up?" Andrew asked Brian.
The other man brandished his own knife and gestured to a random turner. "Just jab them in the head and then we'll burn them. It's all we can do."
"It's not like we can leave them here," Zoey retorted.
"I know," Andrew said, somewhat impatiently. His mood was declining, especially with this new challenge added to their day.
"Kids, do us a favor and go find the others to help us out—Charlie, Nicholas…?" Brian asked.
"Okay!" they both replied before running off.
Andrew started with the turner in front of him. It was still shifting its arms, but the movements were slow, sleepy almost. He brought his knife down, probably using too much force. The turner's head imploded, gushing filmy water from its eyes, nose and mouth to form a pool in its caved-in face. It reminded Andrew of how a jack-o-lantern looked in the compost pile by December. The vile image made one thing clear—he definitely wasn't hungry anymore.
He and Brian continued down the beach and were relieved when their back up arrived. Charlie tossed a pair of gloves to Andrew.
"Could've used these ten minutes ago, but still, thank you," Andrew said.
The man nodded in response.
Meanwhile, Nicholas took over for Andrew so he could assist Charlie in the disposing process. The two men went back to the first turner—Charlie at the top, Andrew at the legs. They attempted to grasp the ballooned limbs and lift, but when they did, the skin and deteriorated muscle fell off the bone like a rotisserie chicken. The men jumped back, shaking out their hands. Andrew gave Charlie a look that said, Now what?
"We gotta find a different way to move 'em. We could get a tarp, roll the bastards on and then carry 'em."
"This is going to take all night," Andrew said in exasperation.
"Ya got that right, but this many of 'em would stink us off the island."
"True."
"Be right back," Charlie said, going up past the tree line in search of a tarp. He came back minutes later and laid it out next to the limp turner.
Andrew nodded. "This'll do."
They worked diligently, moving the turners one at a time. The pile grew with every passing hour, and at one point Andrew stopped to remove his gloves and massage his lower back.
"Come on, old man. Buck up," Charlie joked, though he, too, was in bad shape.
"Who're you calling old man?" Andrew laughed. "I'm younger than you."
"Exactly," the other man replied as they replaced their gloves and started to lift the next body. "When I start bitchin'—"
"Charlie!" Andrew called out.
A second turner had been pinned beneath the one they were lifting. The flash of red raincoat was Andrew's indication to warn his friend. Greg, or what was left of him, latched onto Charlie's boot and chomped his jaws in an effort to break through the leathery material. The rancher kicked him off and then pressed a boot to his chest to hold him down. Quickly, Andrew pulled out his knife and plunged it into the corpse's skull. The two men stumbled back as they caught their breath.
After a moment, Charlie huffed out, "Payback's a bitch." He, of course, was referring to the fact that they'd failed to keep Greg alive and the undead version had sought out revenge.
Shaking his head at Charlie's twisted humor—the one thing getting him through this foul afternoon—Andrew clutched his end of the tarp and got back to work.
_____
Andrew returned home after dark, filthy and covered in sand. He headed straight for the shower, redressing into another dark pair of pants and white t-shirt. With damp hair that smelled a lot better than it did ten minutes before, he made his way to the kitchen and came face to face with Lindsey. She barely met his eyes as she handed him a warm plate of food. He thanked her quietly and watched as she brushed past him and disappeared into their bedroom.
This continued for a week.
They went through the motions, only talking about the necessary things or exchanging important information. They still slept in the same bed, but made no contact with each other. Andrew wondered, if they owned a couch, would one of them be on it?
The following Saturday started like the previous one, with Lindsey reading to Jacob and Andrew playing cribbage with Zoey. The latter two sat on the porch, as it was another beautiful day in paradise. Andrew just wished he could enjoy it. While dealing the next hand, he could hear Lindsey reading the words of The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Jacob's adorable giggles. His heart ached at the sound. He longed to kiss his wife and tell her he loved her, but they were in some kind of funk and he wasn't sure how to recover from it. A serious talk was overdue—they couldn't keep living like this. They may have been living under the same roof, but it was as if they were miles away from each other—and he missed her terribly.
_____
Later in the day, Brian called together everyone on the island to meet at the dining pavilion. He announced that the storm had ruined a number of their crops, depleted their medical supplies, and left them in desperate need of extra lumber and fuel. For these reasons, an emergency trip to the mainland was scheduled for the next morning.
"For those of you who are new here, please let me explain how we go about this," Brian began. "Every able-bodied person has their name put into a hat. Since we're taking two boats, we'll need six people. As the person who initiated this run, I'm volunteering for the first spot. I'll take three people into town to gather supplies, while two stay back with the boats. Easy in and out—or at least that's what we hope for. Any questions before we draw names?"
No one came forward, but Lindsey glanced at Andrew. She didn't have a good feeling about this.
"All right, first name of five," Brian said as he dipped his hand into a Tampa Bay Rays baseball cap held out by his son. "Wendy."
The woman, who was standing beside Tommy, nodded in acceptance. Lindsey recognized her as the first person she'd seen on the island. With beautiful red hair and green eyes, she couldn't have been much older than Andrew.
"Robert."
Caren looked more upset than the man himself, and rightfully so. Lindsey hoped he'd be one of the people to stay with the boats—it would be safer there.
"Phil."
This was a middle-aged man from the island's original group. He was great with machines, so he'd most likely end up with the boats as well. That meant every name after this would have to go into what she considered the hot zone.
"Charlie."
The man was born for this shit. Lindsey felt better knowing he'd be with the group but still worried for his safety.
"And lastly…Andrew."
Lindsey's heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. She should have known his name would be drawn. Whether Brian wanted to admit it or not, this trip was in
credibly dangerous. Any number of things could go wrong and the cure wouldn't be much good if he, or any of them, bled out before they could return to the island.
"I'll see you five at the boats at dawn. Bring whatever firepower you've got. If you need a weapon, let me know and I'll bring something from the armory."
Andrew stayed behind to speak with Brian about possibly acquiring an assault rifle, leaving Lindsey to walk back with Jacob and Zoey.
"I knew that was going to happen," Zoey said softly. "He always has to go."
A frown deepened the lines on Lindsey's face. She couldn't argue with that. It was so true—and she hated it. Unfortunately, it was her job to remain optimistic and try her damnedest not to allow the girl to worry.
"I'm sure I've said this before, but your dad is a fighter and a helper. It's in his blood. Besides, he's got Charlie. That man would never let anything happen to Andrew on his watch."
Zoey sighed heavily. "I know…but I still don't like it."
Lindsey rested a consoling hand on her shoulder. "None of us do—we're not supposed to."
_____
When it came time for bed, Lindsey and Andrew went through their usual routine. They occupied the full-size mattress, turning back to back on the outer edges. Lindsey struggled to find a comfortable position, but her efforts were in vain. Her discomfort was internal and no amount of fluffing her pillow would change that.
Mustering up some courage, she took a deep breath and turned over. Very gently, she rested her hand on Andrew's arm. She stroked his warm skin and felt him tense beneath her caress. Right when she considered stopping, he lifted his opposite hand and placed it over hers. He glanced over his shoulder and his stunning gaze made her breath catch. She continued to hold it as he rolled to face her. He moved his hand to her cheek and her breath rushed out on contact.
God, she'd missed his touch.
Lindsey closed her eyes and savored the moment. His lips brushed over her mouth and it was like opening a floodgate of emotions deep within her soul. She wanted to weep from his kiss—it was impossibly sweet and made her toes curl. His fingers swept through her long hair, down her back, and settled on her side as he pulled her body against his.
They took their time undressing, and when Andrew finally moved over her, she was more than ready—she'd waited almost two weeks for this. Still, neither one of them spoke, filling the quiet room with the sounds of soft gasps and rustling sheets. Afterward, Andrew held her and she fell asleep within minutes—something that couldn't be said as of late.
_____
When Andrew awoke just before dawn, he peered through the darkness at his sleeping wife, her chest rising and falling gently underneath the blankets. He wasn't really sure what had happened the night before. They'd achieved some kind of mutual ground, but he didn't think everything was resolved between them.
This was not the right time, though. He didn't want to wake her—she looked too peaceful. Instead, he propped himself up and leaned over her to drop a soft kiss on her cheek. She stirred slightly and he moved back.
"I love you, Linds."
And with that, he got dressed, kissed his children, and left to meet Brian by the boats.
_____
He didn't say goodbye.
Lindsey had opened her eyes to a vacant pillow and experienced a suffocating sensation in her chest. Had he seriously just left without waking her first? Maybe he'd said goodbye after all, but she didn't get the opportunity! She wanted one more kiss, one more hug—one more chance to tell him that she loved him. Tears loomed, but she refused to give in to them.
Knowing it was too late and all she could do was suck it up, Lindsey got ready, ate a quick breakfast and brought Jake to daycare. Time passed quickly and, before she knew it, found herself in the last class of the day. She got her Intermediate students set up to take a test on proper grammar, and then started on her lesson plans for the rest of the week.
Partway through, she became very tired. She could only describe it as running into a brick wall of fatigue. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and sighed.
Wow, I'm exhausted. I haven't been this tired since…
Lindsey's pencil stilled on the paper. She hadn't realized she'd gasped until a female student asked if she was okay.
"I'm fine," she answered, breathless. "Get back to work."
Now the clock slowed. She almost thought about dismissing everyone early, but decided it best to keep her cool and not get her hopes up.
It's probably not that, so stop thinking about it.
When class ended, she picked up Jake and headed straight to the clinic. Hannah was the first person she came across. The younger woman had moved in with Tyler for company since her father's death and, from what Lindsey could see, seemed to be doing well. She'd pushed through her grief by working extra hours and even managed to keep a smile on her face for most of it.
"Maybe we should get you a punch card, Lindsey. Ya know, 'As a VIP Member, you could earn an extra JELL-O cup after ten visits,'" she quipped.
Lindsey smiled. "As long as it's the blue kind."
"So, what brings you in this time?"
"I'd like to see Dr. Anderson for a couple minutes, if she's available."
"Sure. I just saw her in her office. Knock first, but I'm sure she'll let you right in."
Lindsey thanked Hannah and walked down the hall, balancing Jacob on her hip. She stopped outside of the office door, which was open, and knocked just inside the doorway.
"Lindsey! Come on in," she said, shuffling papers around to give the woman her full attention.
"May I?" Lindsey asked, indicating the open door.
"Absolutely."
Lindsey enclosed them in the tiny, windowless office and took a deep breath. "Doc, I'd like to take a pregnancy test."
Chapter 10
Andrew tapped his pointer finger along the side of his assault rifle and stared out across the gentle waves. This view of the ocean was much different from the last time he'd been out here. The first few minutes on the boat had left him uneasy, like some kind of post-traumatic stress, but then he'd relaxed—only slightly. The dawn did not leave him feeling any better about this trip than he had the day before. He and Lindsey were on improved terms, but what good would that be if he wound up dead? She'd looked so beautiful this morning. He found it was getting harder and harder to leave her and hoped he wouldn't have to again, but the odds didn't appear to be in his favor.
Phil steered their boat toward the approaching shoreline. Andrew glanced at Charlie, who stood next to him, and the two locked eyes. He gave Andrew a subtle nod, signaling that he was ready to take on anything and he'd have Andrew's back the whole way. Andrew returned the gesture, grateful to have such a trustworthy person by his side—it meant everything in this world.
Charlie looked over his shoulder and Andrew followed his gaze. They watched as Robert steered the second boat beside them, receiving a crash course—hopefully not literally—in the basics from Brian. The younger man would be staying behind with Phil, much to Andrew's relief. With a pregnant wife back on the island, Robert needed to be kept out of the line of fire, so to speak. Andrew would do anything in his power to make sure the man didn't miss out on his firstborn child and leave Caren as a single parent.
When they neared the beach, Andrew checked his weapons one last time. With everything in order, he inhaled deeply and blew out a quick breath. Adrenaline kicked in, making his blood tingle. He scanned the horizon of white sand. There was no sign of the herd, but a handful of turners were visible as they lingered by the water's edge. A few more appeared when the boats slid ashore. Andrew and Charlie jumped down, their boots sinking into the wet, heavy sand. Charlie put down the closest turner, a severely decomposed—and naked—woman, while Andrew smashed the butt of his rifle into the forehead of a male corpse. Dark, coagulated blood flung through the air and the turner fell backward. Andrew struck it twice more, and then moved on to the next.
_____
"I don't understand," Lindsey said in bewilderment. "How?"
Dr. Anderson sat across from the woman as she fed Jacob a bottle. The infant's eyes were beginning to close, but Lindsey barely noticed. Her marker-like pregnancy test rested on a nearby counter-top, the pink plus sign etched into her mind.
"Well, from what you've told me about your past, I can see where mistakes were made. I've heard of many cases like this."
"What do you mean?" Lindsey asked.
"Your doctor told you that you weren't exceptionally fertile. Well, that doesn't tell us very much. This is the second time you've conceived, which says that you, indeed, are fertile. Your date of last menstruation and then conception are cohesive. In fact, you got pregnant rather quickly if this was your first try with Andrew."
Lindsey thought of the incident at the ranch—she wouldn't count that as a first try. "So, what are you saying? Was my doctor wrong? Because he did tests..."
"Did he test your husband?"
Her eyebrows pulled together for a moment as she processed the question. "No, actually, he didn't."
"I think there's your answer. It's hard to say without knowing your late husband's medical history, but the proof is here: Andrew has two healthy children and you're pregnant." She shrugged.
Lindsey was reeling. Could it have been Jared all along, or a combination of the two of them that just hadn't worked? Was her compatibility with Andrew that much greater? A sudden thought popped into her head.
"What about my miscarriage? Could that happen again?" Fear laced her gentle voice.
Dr. Anderson sighed. "That's always a possibility, even with the most healthy of couples. Please, try not to worry. I know it's easier said than done, but ultimately, your child's fate is not in our hands."
"You sound like a religious woman, doc," she said with a soft smile.
"To an extent. Even before all this, with the most advanced medicine our world has ever seen, women had failed pregnancies. It's a horrible thing—you know the pain it causes, both emotionally and physically—but at the end of the day, there's a reason that child wasn't meant for this world. We'll probably never know why…you just have to trust."
