Convergence: The Far Side of Hell (A Five Roads to Texas Novel Book 4)

by AJ Powers

  “Just want some fresh air. Still smells like crap down there. Plus, I’ve had all the lovey-dovey mommy-toddler talk I can handle,” she said, giving a dramatic roll of the eyes as she brushed her wind-blown hair out of her face.

  Malcom nodded silently.

  “So, how much longer before I can sleep on a real bed in a room that isn’t constantly moving?”

  Malcom thought about it for a moment. “Well, we just hit the Mississippi, which is a little over two-thirds of the way to Memphis. We’ll probably have to make another stop for some supplies between here and there, but if the weather doesn’t get too bad,” he said, eyeing an approaching storm from the west, “we have two, maybe three days ahead of us.”

  “Thank God,” Naomi replied sharply. “I can’t wait to get off this stupid thing.”

  “Better than trying to plow our way through gridlocked highways. Plus, the infected can’t get to us out here.”

  Naomi slowly moved her eyes to the bow of the ship, staring at the bent railing. “And I suppose that’s unicorn blood down there?” she retorted, her words dripping with sarcasm.

  “Touché. Well, we’re at least safer on this thing than on the road.”

  Naomi shrugged, adding nothing more to the conversation. A few minutes passed in silence. It wasn’t that things were awkward, it was just that neither one of them had anything to say. Except, Malcom did have something to say, but he warned himself that it wasn’t his war to fight. Mother-daughter tiffs were something he avoided like the plague. So long as both parties stayed within the rules of engagement, he was Switzerland on the matter. Fight dirty, however, and he turned into a Marine. Typically, Mackenzie and Cameron’s fights were nothing that a trip to Starbucks couldn’t resolve, but that’s because Mackenzie’s grievances didn’t revolve around her mother shooting her father.

  As a stranger, Malcom had no business jumping into their falling-out. But as the reluctant leader of this small group, the angry feelings and ill will could easily become a fatal distraction for everyone, especially once they were back on land. It wasn’t that he expected Naomi to become some zombie slayer, but he did expect Tessa to be one, and if her mind was preoccupied with the fraying relationship between her and her daughter, then she would be anything but that. And Malcom would have none of it.

  He planned on waiting until they got closer to Memphis, mostly to see if they could work things out before he was forced to have the uncomfortable conversation. But Naomi was there now, so he decided to rip the band aid off.

  “So, were you into any sports back in school?”

  Naomi huffed. “Does it matter now?”

  Malcom raised his hands off the wheel slightly. “Hey, just trying to get to know ya more. We have a long road ahead of us still.”

  Naomi’s hardened expression relaxed slightly, and her shoulders lowered as she gave a small nod. “Yeah. Soccer and softball, mostly.”

  “Oh yeah? My daughter loved soccer.”

  “You had a daughter?”

  “Yeah… Well, actually, three of them. But my oldest, Mackenzie, who was just a couple years younger than you, played for a select team.”

  “That’s awesome,” Naomi replied, her voice genuinely interested. “I just played for my school’s team to get out of doing ballet, which is what my mom…” Her eyes fluttered, and she cleared her throat as if she’d just swallowed acid. “Anyway, I didn’t really like playing at first, but it grew on me after a while.”

  Malcom chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan either, but I’m really glad Mackenzie did that over ballet.”

  Naomi got uncomfortably silent for a minute, causing Malcom to believe that the conversation, and his opportunity to inject himself into the family feud, crashed before takeoff. But then Naomi continued where they’d left off. “Yeah… I mean, I like dancing, but ballet is not dancing.”

  “I hate ballet as much as the next guy, but I don’t think I’d go as far as to say it’s not dancing.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So… your mom wanted you to do ballet?”

  Naomi’s expression went ice-cold at the mention of her mom and she clenched her jaw.

  Malcom sighed through his nose, realizing there was no chance of easing into the discussion. Like a sledgehammer, he decided to just knock the wall down. “All right, look… I’m going to level with you here, Naomi. This is pretty much the last thing I want to be doing right now, and that includes going fisticuffs with a horde of infected,” he said, only partially joking. “But you should really forgive your mom.”

  If looks could kill, Naomi’s would have punched Malcom straight through Hell and back to life, just so she could do it all over again. “This is none of your damn business.”

  “Except it is, Naomi,” Malcom said, his voice a bit louder than he’d anticipated. “Because if you two can’t get your shit together, it’s going to end up getting us killed out there.”

  Naomi said nothing.

  “I know what it’s like to lose someone. In case you haven’t noticed, my family’s not hiding in the cabinets downstairs.”

  Naomi’s silence persisted, but Malcom saw the flash of guilt in her eyes. He hoped it would cause her to mute her sarcasm long enough to listen to what he had to say.

  “Your mom was faced with an impossible situation that you and I can’t even begin to understand. I have no idea if she made the right call or not, but I do know that she did her best, given the circumstances. You can’t blame her for that.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Okay, humor me, then. What would you have done?”

  There was no reply.

  “Exactly,” Malcom shot back.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You sure as hell did.”

  “Whatever, Malcom,” Naomi said, visibly frustrated.

  She turned to leave, but Malcom put his hand on her arm, causing her to stop and face him with a sullen look. “Listen, kid…” he sighed again as he tried to find the most effective words within his limited lexicon. “I have a sneaking suspicion that your mom wasn’t the type of mother that stood by the curb to pick you up from school every day or had fresh-baked cookies waiting for you when you got home. I imagine she probably missed a game or two…” Naomi scoffed with the latter comment, letting Malcom know he was on target, “but I can tell you this: that woman loves you more than life itself. And it’s clear to me that what she did, as awful as it may feel, was with your best interest at heart.”

  Tears danced around in Naomi’s eyes as Malcom’s word sank in. Her expression softened, and she gave the subtlest of nods.

  “You’ve got to let this one go, Naomi. I promise, it’ll feel a whole lot better than holding a grudge.”

  Naomi sniffled as she unsuccessfully tried to bottle up her emotions. But then the cabin door opened below, propelling her back into a state of hatred as Tessa climbed the ladder. She glared over at Malcom for a moment before saying, “Just because you’re screwing my mother doesn’t make me your daughter, Malcom.”

  “Naomi!” Tessa shouted as her head rose above the platform.

  “Keep the advice to yourself,” she added.

  “What the hell is going on up here?” Tessa asked.

  “Oh, like you don’t know. I’m sure you were the one to put him up to this.”

  “Put him up to what?” Tessa asked, confused.

  “Yeah, I’m not buying it, Tessa,” the bitter teenager said, slithering past her mother to get to the ladder. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother me about dinner; I’m not hungry.”

  Tessa’s confusion left her stammering. “W-w-what did you say to her?” she asked, a mixture of pain and vexation in her eyes.

  Malcom grimaced as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger. “Apparently the wrong thing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  25 – Near New Madrid, Missouri – June 4th

  A deafening crack of thunder detonated overhead; Malcom instinctively cowered as tendrils of lightn
ing filled his vision, as if the Devil himself had just dragged his fingernails across the murky skies. Another thunderous boom shook the boat, disorienting Malcom and tossing him from his seat; his death grip on the steering wheel the only thing stopping his fall to the deck below.

  “What the hell?!” he shouted as he pulled himself back up to the chair, the boat still rocking aggressively. A series of pops and sputters forced his attention to the stern just in time to watch the left motor cease up. “Ahh, shit,” he said, realizing the boat collided with something below the surface.

  A gust of wind smacked him in the face as he shoved the throttle forward, continuing with his frantic race to a slough he could just barely see at the bend ahead. Whatever he had hit was big. And not only did it trash the one motor, but his speedometer suggested he damaged the other motor’s prop as well. At full throttle, the day cruiser was barely pushing seven knots, which was not enough to get them to the slough before the current dragged them past.

  “Malcom!” Tessa screamed as she rushed out of the cabin. “There’s water coming in!”

  Damn it! Malcom immediately spun the wheel to his left and headed for the closest bank. The slough was no longer a viable option to safely ride out the storm, and the boat was no longer his priority. Malcom needed to get them to land. Period.

  “Life jackets!” he shouted back to Tessa as the storm continued its roaring ballad overhead.

  Tessa darted inside, shrieking at the kids to get their vests on as the door rocked shut behind her.

  The bow of the boat was already sagging on one side, a chilling sight for the inexperienced captain. Malcom was woefully unprepared for the moment.

  Another barrage of thunder erupted, causing him to flinch. The rush of rain steadily increased, masking the shoreline in front of him behind a curtain of haze. The nose of the boat dipped lower as the water continued to rush in. Hoping the stern wasn’t yet sinking, Malcom glanced over his shoulder. As far as he could tell, it was just as high as before, but that wouldn’t last long.

  “Come on!” Malcom growled through clenched teeth as he slapped the steering wheel, willing the speedometer to climb higher.

  Tessa tore back outside with the kids, each one wearing a bright-orange life jacket. TJ screamed with uninhibited terror as he squeezed his sister’s neck, but Naomi was far too petrified to try to soothe the boy through the overwhelming thunder.

  “Malcom!” Tessa shouted, waving another life jacket at him.

  She threw the vest to him and Malcom snaked his arms through it, clasping the buckles before retaking control of the wheel. He felt the tightness in his chest loosen ever so slightly as land finally reemerged from the fog of the rain, but there was still over a hundred yards of water separating them from the shore, and the boat’s one good motor struggled to keep up with Malcom’s demand.

  “What do you need me to do?” Tessa shouted from below.

  “Get ready to jump as soon as we get close enough,” Malcom replied loudly over the deafening drum of the rain.

  Their progress slowed with every gallon of water they took on, and the bow was just a foot and a half away from being submerged. The shore was within fifty yards now. “Almost there,” he said with a shot of optimism…

  But then the engine stalled out.

  “What… what happened?” Tessa asked, frightened.

  Malcom replied by trying to restart the motor, but it wouldn’t take. Their movement toward shore died along with the overworked motor, and the Tessa Marie was now at the mercy of the Mighty Mississippi.

  He continued to crank the ignition in vain, the grinding moans of the motor sounding more pitiful with each attempt. He looked back toward the shore. They drifted closer, but not close enough. They were still too far away.

  The storm raged, erratically tossing the boat through the water, the turbulent current slowly pulling them closer to the shore. Hopelessly, Malcom continued to encourage the motor back to life.

  Lightning ripped through the sky; a roar of thunder drowned TJ’ screams. Tessa desperately yelled something to Malcom, but he couldn’t hear anything over the chaos.

  Suddenly, Malcom’s eyes widened as he felt a moment of weightlessness. “Shit,” he muttered as the bow rapidly dropped a foot closer to the river. “We’re going down!” he screamed just before the fury of the river rushed into the boat from all sides.

  Tessa bolted toward her children, but the water swept across the deck and smashed into her, throwing her overboard like a toy doll.

  “Tessa!” Malcom screamed as the boat jerked to the side, hurling him from the steering deck. He smacked into the main deck below, hitting his face on something hard along the way. Pushing through the pain, he stumbled to his feet and struggled through knee-high water to try to get to the children. “Naomi?” he shouted.

  He heard a faint cry for help just as the floor dropped from beneath his feet.

  Malcom was still breathing. But his sluggish brain could not recall a single memory after being sucked beneath the waves of the river. He could barely remember what happened before that. He struggled to open his eyes, but the drab, afternoon sky was too intense, forcing him to squeeze them shut again. Slowly the soft murmur of the rain faded, and Malcom began to slip out of consciousness.

  Then he heard muffled screams in the distance.

  Tessa!

  Malcom growled as his eyes sprang open, his vision blurry and overexposed. The world around him was either black or white—nothing in between. He pushed himself off the ground just enough to avoid choking on the vomit he spit into the mud as the pounding in his head intensified. Climbing to his knees, he caught his breath and blinked his eyes as he struggled to focus his vision.

  Her cries called to him again, giving him a potent dose of motivation to get to his feet. He screamed through the pain as his wobbly legs fought to support his weight. Winded from the effort, Malcom drew in another deep breath before planting his right foot into the soggy ground in front of him, moving his body in the direction he thought the voice was coming from.

  “Hang in there, Tess,” he said to himself, his words nearly unintelligible.

  The pain in his head increased with each step he took, but the screams and the world around him also came more into focus. The trees were no longer dark, swaying shadows, and the voice was no longer just a faint echo.

  “Malcom!” she cried.

  “I-I’m coming!” Malcom said weakly, trying to avoid emptying his stomach onto the ground again.

  The uneven terrain only complicated his trek, but slowly Malcom regained his footing, and before long he was moving quicker, though still not much more than a steady walk.

  “Tessa!” Malcom said, his voice getting stronger. “Tessa! Where are you?”

  “Malcom, help!” The cries were louder.

  Malcom delved into a dense patch of trees, his eyes frantically scanning the area for the source of the sound. The desaturated greens and browns around him should have made the orange life jacket stand out, but he found nothing.

  “Mom! Malcom! Please help!”

  Naomi!

  Jolted by the rush of adrenaline, Malcom shirked off the debilitating pain and swiftly navigated the small wooded patch of land, finding Naomi just on the other side. She was leaning over TJ, counting under her breath as her hands pumped vigorously on his chest.

  “Naomi!” Malcom said, dropping to his knees next to TJ. His skin was ashen and his lips a deathly blue. “How–how long has he been like this?”

  Naomi spoke between her compressions, a technique her mom made her perfect by her tenth birthday. “I-I-I don’t know. Two, maybe three minutes.”

  “Where’s your mom?” he asked frantically.

  “I don’t know,” she whimpered, grunting through a few more compressions before blowing into TJ’s mouth.

  Malcom watched as the boy’s chest rose slightly, only to fall again once Naomi pulled away. “Okay, I’m going to go find her,” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. �
�No matter what, you don’t stop doing that until we get back.”

  Naomi nodded, then started counting under her breath again as she continued the compressions. “Please hurry!”

  Malcom’s chest tightened with fear as he ran alongside the river, straining his voice to be heard over the still-raging storm. His desperation and despair increased with each unanswered call. He feared the worst.

  A lone infected man shrieked as he came out of a patch of trees, sprinting toward Malcom. Despite the beast’s superhuman speed, it wasn’t quick enough to reach Malcom before his Glock neutralized him with three rounds to the chest. As the echo of the pistol’s report faded, Malcom heard the most blood-curdling scream he’d ever heard.

  It was music to his ears.

  TJ’s piercing cry probably excited every infected within a few miles of the river valley, but screams meant the boy had air in his lungs, which meant he was alive. Naomi did it. She’d pried her little brother from the Grim Reaper’s grasp.

  Though TJ’s life was no longer in immediate danger, the smothering aura surrounding Malcom only grew darker. “Tessa!” he screamed, swinging his head from left to right as he continued to walk downstream. The more he shouted for her, the more the hope fled his spirit.

  And then he saw her.

  He quickened his pace before stopping dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes, panting through several deep breaths before convincing himself to open them again. All the air rushed from his lungs. Pain, sorrow, and anger all struck at once as he watched her body swaying in the waves, snagged on the branches of a fallen tree.

  “No!” Malcom roared as he sprinted over to Tessa’s lifeless body. He ran into the water, fighting the current to get to her. Pulling her away from the tangled mess of branches and debris, he trudged back to shore, gently laying her on her back before cutting the straps to her life jacket.

  Her face was gray, with splotches of purples and blues. A deep gash cut across her forehead above her right eye and ran into her hair line, but it wasn’t bleeding. “Tessa, wake up,” Malcom said, lightly smacking her face in vain. He felt for a pulse. Nothing. His ear dropped down to her chest and he listened intently, trying to block out the pounding rain.