by Damon Novak
A first for me, and a sick-ass feelin’. I drove another fifty yards until I was well in the clear, and stopped, the engine idling.
As I pulled the knob to turn on the headlights, I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder. “Good job,” she said, smiling at me.
I looked at that smile for longer than probably made sense. Then I felt my eyes wellin’ up with tears.
“Cole, what’s … wrong?”
The way she turned her eyes away after askin’ led me to believe she realized it was a dumb question, but she didn’t say anything else.
“I’m just wonderin’ how long it’ll be before I see another smile so genuine as that one. You know. What with all that’s goin’ on.”
There was a sound. It sounded like a snippet of a song by The Police, Roxanne. Georgina quickly dug around in her bag and pulled out her cell phone. She put it to her ear and almost screamed, “Roxy!”
At that moment, I recalled her calling her daughter Roxy when she’d left her earlier message. Roxanne.
“I was so worried! Where are you?”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, and Georgie didn’t think to put it on speaker. I let her have that time with her daughter, but I have to admit, I was curious as hell to know what she’d been through. I let off the clutch and started driving again while she spoke to her kid.
“Are you safe?” she asked, and with whatever answer came, I saw her shoulders relax; her whole body, really. “Who are you with?”
The other side of the conversation went on for a few more seconds, and just from the little snippets I caught, I could hear the fear in her daughter’s voice.
“Okay, baby. Okay. I like Terry. Stay together, okay? And stay inside. Text me the address where you are.”
A moment later, she said, “Rox, I’m with a man named Cole, who came to my house for help. He’s –”
She stopped talkin’ for a second, and I could hear a rapid chatter on the phone, unintelligible.
“No, no. He’s a good man. He lost two of his brothers at my house. It’s terrible, Roxy. Promise me you’ll stay where you are until we get there. We just have to get to his sister, a few miles from here.”
There was some more discussion about keepin’ off the streets, and how dangerous the news said it was out there. It was all old news to me. Nowhere was safe; not even inside a house with your family.
When she hung up, she put the phone in her lap and breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to look at me.
“You said you’d get me to my daughter,” she said.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She’s in Key West now,” she said. “First year at University of Miami, but she was taking a little break with a group of friends. She called it doing the Duval Crawl. I don’t even know what that means, but she’s going to text me the address.”
I sure did. Duval Street was the main drag in Key West, and it was lined with bars and people who liked drinkin’ in bars. The Crawl was what you did to get to the next bar from the last bar.
Key West was a good 5-hour drive on a good day. With what was happenin’, I had no idea what the Overseas Highway was gonna look like.
I didn’t mention what I knew about it. Instead, I said, “She studyin’ to be a doctor, like her mama?”
I looked at that woman, her soft blonde hair framin’ her face, and saw the look of pride there. “As a matter of fact, yes, she is. She’s going to be a cardiologist, if she doesn’t change her specialty. Her grandfather – my father – passed away from a heart attack at a very young age, and she loved him. It’s how she decided.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said. “How old was he?”
“Just 55 years old. It was a massive heart attack they often call The Widow Maker, and the name was accurate in his case.”
“Let her know we’ll be comin’. I’d get an address – maybe a couple of ‘em in case she has to bail – and keep it in your phone. You bring a charger?”
“I did,” she said. “In fact, I’ll plug it in now.”
I pulled the lighter out and dropped it in the center console. She dug in her bag and pulled out her phone charger, plugging it in.
“Works.”
“You surprised? Lighter always has.”
“Sorry,” she laughed. “I haven’t been in a vehicle this old since – watch out!”
I’d been half lookin’ at her and half watchin’ the road when a dude in a Dollar General tee shirt and torn jean shorts stumbled off the curb and right in front of my car. I smacked him hard with my front bumper, and he went down like a clipped hurdle at a track meet.
“Shit!” I shouted. I could feel that the body hadn’t cleared my undercarriage completely, but there was nothin’ I could do.
“There’s more. Oh, my God,” she whispered. “They’re everywhere.”
She was right. I was on US-41 southbound, and I only had about four miles to go to get to the Baxter Compound. There was no other way around, no alternative routes.
“Hundreds,” she whispered.
I barely heard her. The windows were up, but the moans and growls permeating them filled my head like pouring rain blocks out all other sounds.
“I’m gonna have to push through. Check behind us.”
She turned in her seat. “It’s clear. There are some about a block back.”
“Okay, hope it stays that way. I’m gonna zigzag through these things like that guy’s doin’ up there,” I said.
The doctor leaned forward. “Oh, I didn’t see that blue car,” said Georgina. “Can you catch him?”
“Maybe,” I said, increasing my speed, easing the Rover right to avoid a staggering woman coming off the center median. I missed her by a hair. “If there’s too many, I can’t go this fast. I’ll have to put it in my lowest gear and just push through ‘em.”
“Be careful, Cole,” she urged. “Don’t let my dumb suggestions change your strategy.”
She was right, actually. I am one hell of a driver, be it an airboat or a Land Rover. I’ve driven giant-ass Swamp Buggies through the ‘Glades, and despite horrible odds and often shit weather, I’ve won my share of races. The tranny on my Rover was top notch, and I knew that thing would roll over pretty much anything.
“Hang on,” I said. “There’s more up ahead. Buncha strip malls up here, so judgin’ from all the cars in those lots, I’m guessin’ this was pretty busy when the shit went down. Dollar Store in there, too.”
I saw her grab the bar mounted above the door and white-knuckle it as I swerved left and right, successfully dodging around people in various states of whatever Clay and Tanner had. Since they were walkin’ around, I had to assume they were full blown.
The thought hit me that my own brothers would’ve been doin’ the same thing had they gotten outta Dr. Lake’s house. To be honest, I was wonderin’ which was worse.
The answer came to me fast. My brothers would not become the source of anyone’s nighmares, because of what I’d done to stop it.
Except maybe mine.
Ω
CHAPTER SEVEN
Every time I saw open lane, it flooded with people. I kept searching for open road through the bodies, and when I saw it, I angled the Rover through them.
“C’mon, Red Rover, you can do it!” I yelled, pounding the steerin’ wheel. It was more to calm my nerves, but I wasn’t sure what it was doin’ to poor Dr. Georgina Lake. When I’d glance at her, she’d be leanin’ forward, her hands pressed against the dashboard while she stared out at the street, her brows lowered like a Chevy Impala with hydraulics.
“Watch out!” she shouted, but it didn’t do any good, because I had to hit the guy. He’d come from behind another group, staggerin’ in front of me with one tennis shoe on one foot and one of them ankle socks on his other foot.
When I hit him, he spun around in a strange way, like he was gettin’ sucked down a drain in a cartoon.
The worst part was drivin’ over ‘em after they fell.
“This is horrible! Horrible!” shouted Dr. Lake.
“I know it is, but what choice do I have? They’re everywhere!”
I cranked the wheel hard left, but somethin’ was still draggin’ beneath me, and it didn’t feel like I could turn it as sharp as I should. I hit the brakes and threw it in reverse.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I think a body’s been stuck underneath me, since I hit that dude with the Dollar General shirt,” I yelled over the screams of the crazies outside. “It’s strainin’ my motor and it’s startin’ to overheat!”
“Can you get it out?” she asked.
“I’m sure as hell gonna try!”
The Rover felt burdened and the steering was mushy. As I slowed further, the things closed in on us, their hands slappin’ and clawin’ everywhere. The side windows had gotten so smeared with black muck and blood that I could barely see out of ‘em.
Since my steerin’ seemed to be limited when turnin’ right, I cranked the wheel hard left and backed it up fast, the rear end also zippin’ left, crashin’ into another four or five of ‘em. I spun the wheel right, and as the Rover’s rear end responded, I felt my front tires lift up, then bounce off the pavement. Next thing I knew, the guy wearin’ the Dollar General tee was spread-eagled in the road ahead. None of the crazies attacked him, so I was now satisfied he was already turned when I dragged him underneath me.
What really drove it home for me was when he tried to get up on his snapped legs, usin’ his broken arms to push with. Hell, I’d been draggin’ his body for at least a mile, and not only was his tee shirt almost ripped completely away from his body, most of his chest, stomach and half his face had been ground away by the asphalt, too.
I fought my gag reflex yet again, and dropped it back down into forward gear, plowin’ through. I figured out that if I turned left and right, it tended to push them away from the center of the road, which always seemed to leave a sliver of open highway to shoot for.
“Hang on!” I shouted. I saw completely open highway ahead. I had to get past another dozen before I reached it, and that was a matter of sheer will.
I floored it, the tranny winding as I forced it to stay in second gear, the torque ensuring my forward momentum.
When I knocked those last four bodies out of the way, I screamed, “Fuck yes!” and floored it.
“Do me a favor, please, Georgie?” I asked.
“Yeah?”
“Grab my phone there and text Lilly. Tell her we’re about ten minutes out.”
Ω
When I turned onto Baxter Trail, the road that wound around our acreage and fed off to each of our driveways, I felt my heart settle. I’d felt it in my chest like a jackhammer.
When I got to Lilly’s place, I turned the steerin’ wheel into her driveway and threw it in park. I turned in my seat to look behind us.
There was nobody there. I wished there was a gate at the main entrance, but there wasn’t. I’d never wished that before, just so you get it. People know us in town, and nobody’d rip us off. They know we’d help any one of ‘em.
“Let’s go,” I said, pulling the door handle. Georgina followed right behind, her 9mm Colt in her hand. As I yanked my door open and jumped clear, I was surprised at two things.
First, Dr. Lake climbed out behind me, on my side, and Lilly was standing in the driveway, tears running down her face. Forgetting Georgina for the moment, I ran to her.
She stared at me. “What’s with the Hugh Hefner robe?”
I stared at her, not comprehending, then realized I still wore the damned robe that Georgina had given me.
“Another long fuckin’ story. You been out there? Where’s dad?”
Her expression changed, and she shook her head. “Who’s this?” she asked.
I turned, pretty much forgettin’ Dr. Lake was with me. “Sorry, both of you. This is Georgina Lake. She’s a doctor. Clay and I took Tan over to her place to see if she could help him. She was willin’, but … turns out there wasn’t anything she could do.”
Georgina stepped forward and tried to hug Lilly, who said, “Whoa,” and pushed her back at the shoulders. “I don’t know you, and considering what’s going on, I’m not so sure hugging anyone is a good idea.”
“Jesus, Lilly, she’s a doctor. She helped me more than you know.”
“It’s okay,” said Georgina. “I understand. It’s just that after what I went through with your brother, I’m happy he found you again. He’s going to help me get to my daughter.”
“Thanks for understanding,” said Lilly. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her skin was dry. She kept licking her lips.
“Have you had any water?” asked the doctor. “I recognize the signs of dehydration, and you’re very close.”
“I’ve been kind of busy, so no,” she said.
“In the house with you,” I said. “And be nice to this lady here. Without her, I can promise you I wouldn’t be here now. She had one helluva gun safe in her house.”
We went in, and at Georgina’s continued insistence, Lilly went to get several bottles of water. She drank one, finished it, and downed a second one. When she crushed the bottle and dropped it into the trashcan, she said, “You were right. I haven’t had a drop since this morning.”
“And you’ve been sweating,” said Georgina. “You have to watch out. It doesn’t take long.”
“Thank you,” she said, and I was happy to see her lean forward and give Dr. Lake’s hand a brief squeeze. Lilly was warming up.
“Hey, Lil, what happened with those kids? Someone come and pick ‘em up?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she walked over and dropped down on the sofa, her eyes far away.
“Hey,” I said, sitting down beside her. “What happened?”
She looked up at me. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. Once you told me about Clay and Tanner, and after Pa … their fate fell by the wayside.”
“Their … fate?” I asked. “Lilly, what the hell happened?”
“We were still at the shop, and I went into the bathroom. I was scared, and I needed some private time, so I guess I was in there about twenty minutes. I texted you once or twice when I was in there.”
“They were gone when you came out?”
She nodded. “Gone, but not gone. I saw them.”
“Saw them where?”
“In our skiff. I came out of the bathroom and saw the chairs in the front room were empty. Then I heard the Evinrude idling, and I ran outside. Butch was in back and the kids were on the bench seats. He gassed it and shot out into the canal, yelling that he was going to find the kids’ grandpa.”
“So they took off?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They tried to. The boy – not Butch, but the younger one – stood up and the boat started to rock. He tried to step back the other way, but he fell overboard.”
“Shit!” I almost shouted. “Did Butch pull him back in?”
Lilly shook her head. “No. He fucked up. Instead of turning or stopping the boat, he turned the handle the wrong way and accelerated. He ran right over the kid. Hit him with the prop.”
“What were you doin’?” I asked. A second later, I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m not askin’ because I think you did anything –”
“I know,” she interrupted. “The boat was way off the dock by that time. I couldn’t jump in, and I couldn’t have gotten to one of the other boats in time.” Lilly was in tears now.
“In time?”
Now Georgina sat beside us on the couch. She’d apparently been listening from the kitchen entry.
“He cut the kid bad. He was screaming. The girl started screaming, too, and the boat was out of control. Butch was off-balance, and it just kept going full speed until it hit the mangroves and flipped. That’s when I ran to get to the other skiff, but I couldn’t get that goddamned Suzuki started. I pulled and pulled, but it … then I heard screaming. All of them were screaming.”
�
��Damn,” I whispered. I don’t think I could’ve spoken any louder on a bet.
“CB, they came from everywhere.”
“Fuckin’ zombies?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Gators. They were aggressive, like they are during mating season, but on steroids. I saw them out of the corner of my eye and I yelled at them to get into the mangroves and try to climb into the middle, but CB, there was nowhere they’d be safe and I knew it.”
I sat there, knowin’ I didn’t want to hear the rest of the story. I just stared at her. “All dead. Right?”
“There were eight or nine gators, Cole. Nothing smaller than a six-footer. It was horrible.”
As deadly as Florida Alligators could be, I knew I’d rather be around them than our newest predators. I just shook my head. Georgina took my sister’s hand and she let her.
“Cole, what are we going to do?” she asked.
She didn’t call me Cole much. Always used my nickname. Before I could answer, Lilly broke down in tears.
“Really,” she said, her face scrunched up with the pain of loss, as though what I’d texted to her from Georgina’s house had just hit her. “Both Clay and Tan?” It was almost like she’d been trying to avoid thinking about them as she told me about the kids, but now, her story told, she couldn’t deny they were dead one second longer.
Now if you know Lilly, you know she ain’t one to cry. She’s tough as nails, and I don’t mean acrylics. She’s my baby sister, but she’s always been the one to settle me and my brothers’ bullshit when we were fightin’, and she’s the one who made us remember we were a family, even when everything seemed to be fallin’ apart.
So, to see her like this was hard for me. I got up and dropped down beside her, pullin’ her into my chest.
She cried there for maybe five minutes. Then she leaned forward and wiped her face dry on my terrycloth robe. She pulled the makeshift lapel and looked into my eyes. “Who the fuck are you, anyway? Thurston Howell the 3rd?”
