Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (19 page)

C.J. was his name.
 

Sadie said few words of greeting to Scot.
She hates me.
Though, it might’ve been his imagination, but her golden eyes did glow with some relief after seeing him. She reminded him of Katy Perry, only more goth. He would never tell her that though, for fear of her hexing him.
I’m already cursed.
 

The old man — the hero — was an Arab named Nasir. He too said few words, instead concentrating his attention on guarding the door. But he asked Scot to come to the roof and he obliged.
I want to give Kelsey space to breathe. So much tension already. Perhaps I should stay quiet for a while.
They went out the back door after Nasir checked the area was clear. Scot wasn’t sure of the man’s age, but he had graying curly hair and a wrinkled face. Despite these indicators of age, he was in great shape, and had no problem clambering up a ladder to the roof of the food mart.
 

The sun burned Scot’s blue eyes, and they were already extremely dry from his contact lenses.
Please let there be solution downstairs
.
 

“How is your leg?” Nasir asked him, indicating the bandages.
 

Scot hadn’t even noticed the towels taped around his thigh. They were soaked with blood. “I’m fine, thanks.”
 

“It seems so. You had no problem climbing up here.” Nasir placed his sniper rifle on the floor and bent to yank Scot’s poorly constructed bandage off. There was a large tear in his jeans and some blood stains but all that was left of the deep wound? A slight scar.
 

“How?” Nasir looked up at him, his eyebrow raised.
 

“I have no idea.”
Yes, you do.

“You’re very lucky,” he remarked and rose. “Come.”
 

They stood at the edge of the roof. Below them, by the pumps, lay dead bodies. A blood trail wound around a Jeep. The old man said nothing, so Scot, tired of waiting, broke the silence. “Why did you bring me up here?”
 

“I brought you up here for one reason and one reason only.”
 

Silence.
 

“And?” Scot prompted.
 

“Do you think people have predetermined courses?”
 

“What? Like destiny?”
 

“Yes, like destiny.”
 

“Well,” he said, mulling this over. “No. I think we make our own choices and luck determines our lives.”
 

“Yes, I thought the same.”
 

“But not anymore?”

“Do you want to know what I did, before last night?”
 

“You ran a food mart.”
 

Nasir was not pleased with that response. “Why? Because I’m from Saudi Arabia?”
 

Scot fumbled. “I, uh, uh—”

“No, this place is not mine.”
 

“So then what’s the deal?”
 

Nasir gave him a long measuring stare, then clicked his tongue. “Let’s go back down.” He walked away.
 

“Wait,” Scot demanded and reached for him. “Why the hell did you bring me up here?”
 

Nasir stared at the hand latched around his arm and then gazed coldly at Scot, who quickly released his grip.
 

What the hell just happened?
The old man had left Scot with more questions than answers.
Maybe no answers are better than bad answers.
 

Alone once again, Scot stood on the roof overlooking the town he’d once loved. He used to miss this place, but tragedy had killed those feelings, while time had sent them beneath dirt.
Things can never be the same as they once were.
Blacking out the world, he let the sun’s warmth grace his skin and he shut his eyes, accepting the bad days ahead, for the good ones no longer existed, buried in the graves where the dead once lay.
 

Green Hills had become a cemetery.

episode three

FIGHT THE PAST

KALE

No cuffs on his wrists. Freedom.
 

Fresh salt, air free of decay, sparkles across the ocean surface; the world was not an apocalypse at that moment, and Kale embraced it. He stood at the yacht aft, arms outstretched, wind rippling his dark green shirt. Ocean spray blessed his face every so often.
 

“You’re not on the Titanic,” Howard interrupted him, standing in his suit, or what was left of it. Part of his dress shirt hung untucked, stained with blood. His tie swung loose, his slacks were ripped, and his hair was still as greasy as ever. A slight crack had crawled across one of the lenses in his glasses.
 

Titanic.
Although Howard bugged him at times, Kale grabbed his friend’s shoulder, happy to see him. “We made it.”
 

Howard snorted. “Yeah, well, we can’t stay out at sea forever.”
 

True, but it was too soon to bother Kale’s mind.
 

“When we get back to land, know what we’re going to do? Load up on guns, ammo, beef jerky and start blasting some zombie fools.” It was good to have Howard back from his drunken incapacitation. He was naïve, dumb even, but he brought some lightness to this whole mess and Kale appreciated that. After all, there wasn’t really anyone else to talk to.
 

Alec had secluded himself with Nicole, mourning the loss of his brother. Jeff was unconscious. The two doctors who owned the yacht were busy with their nephew, Evans.
 

Erica was...somewhere.
 

As for Deputy Jimmy Miller, well, Kale never gave a shit about that guy.
 

Then there was Howard, who had suited up for a fun night and got zombies instead, which probably made him happier. Howard sat on a bench by Kale’s side and he turned his back, staring at the rest of the yacht.
 

There were two decks. Kale and Howard stood on the main deck across from an opening that led down to the interior, which housed several berths and the captain’s corridor. The upper deck was a vacation spot loaded with lounge chairs and a hot tub. Kale was tempted to go in and enjoy the bubbles, but figured it wasn’t a good time. Above the sun deck was the bridge, where the captain and his nephew were discussing some matter, possibly familial, possibly not.
 

Kale didn’t care. He had much to discuss with Jeff and Alec, but he would give them time to mull things over.
I’ve waited this long. What’s a few more hours or days, or even weeks?
So he sat down next to Howard, crossed his legs, folded his arms and waited.
 

Several long minutes passed before Howard spoke, “Well, now I’m bored.”
 

“Yeah, same here. But we should enjoy our safety, right?”
 

“I guess. I don’t even remember much from last night. It feels like a drunken dream.”
 

“No dream, Howie.” Kale scratched at his leg. Movement on the bridge caught his attention. The captain and his nephew were arguing about something.

“Spy Ops?” Howard stood, extending a hand to his friend.

“We can’t trust them.”
 

“Who said anything about trust?”
 

“Well, what if they catch us and do something drastic?”
 

Howard rubbed his chin. “So...Spy Ops?”
 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”
 

Spy Ops was a game they’d invented a few years back and had played numerous times. The premise of the game was basically exactly what it sounded like. They would spy on someone, trying not to get caught. Most of the time this involved looking at girls. Some people called it stalking, or creeping, but they called it Spy Ops.
 

Their mission commenced. They lurked up a curved white staircase that lead to the upper deck. Erica was on a lounge chair, wearing sunglasses she had found earlier on the yacht. Her skirt was rolled up her thighs, and she wore only a bra. Why she was tanning at a time like this, Kale had no idea, but then again,
they
were playing Spy Ops. Perhaps it helped ease her mind from the horrifying situation they’d barely managed to escape.

Deputy Miller was also on a lounge chair, wearing the same uniform as the night before, toying with his pistol. His back was turned to them, so it was easy to get to the short set of stairs leading up to the bridge unnoticed. Kale, ahead of Howard, took a careful step off the wooden deck, holding the metal railing of the stairs. The door to the bridge was open and he heard them inside.
 

“I’m sorry you lost your team, your friends,” said Dylan, Evans’ uncle.
 

“They died heroes. I won’t shed a tear for them.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“Accomplishes nothing.”
 

“Right, well, what do you make of all this?”
 

“All of what? We have a situation. We
deal
with the situation.”
 

“Yeah,” there was a short pause in his uncle’s breath, “but this situation will eat us.”
 

“We sail north to the VTF headquarters, Camp Numark. We speak with Colonel Hutton. We go from there.”
 

The uncle huffed. “What if there is no Numark?”
 

“Like I said, we go from there.”
 

“What’s really bothering you?”
 

Evans took a couple steps that drew closer to the door, and Kale was ready to run, but Howard grabbed his arm, motioning for him to wait. Evans gave his response. “That girl out there, Erica, I killed her boyfriend last night. He was innocent for all I know.”
 

“I’m sure you had reason to,” his uncle replied.
 

“I think I did. I mean, I
know
I did. He was bit. People who are bit change into them. It happened to a fallen VTF.”
 

“So, you did good.”
 

There was silence for a while and Howard even yawned. Kale smacked him.
 

The uncle, Dylan, spoke again. “You’re mourning your fallen team members. I get it. We can wait to return to Numark. We can float out here for a day if you want. Rest. Then return to shore.”
 

“I should’ve been there with them. I should’ve fought until the end.”
 

“Then I get to lose you? Chances are Erica would’ve died, too. You did the right thing.”
 

“Then why do I feel like shit?”
 

“Because unlike those things back on land, you actually have a soul.”
 

Howard let a quiet giggle escape and Kale was ready to hit him again, until Evans spoke. “There’s more.”

“What?”
 

“Erica, I’m pretty sure she’s been bit.”
 

“She—”

“She will change if we do nothing. I don’t know what to do. I should’ve just shot her down with her boyfriend. We can’t save everyone.”
 

The uncle’s voice interjected, “No, but we
can
do something.”
 

“What?”
 

“We can operate.”
 

The subject matter of the conversation suddenly changed and was filled with mundane topics. They talked about Evans’ mom, his uncle’s partner who was fast asleep in the captain’s corridor, and other nonsense that neither Kale nor Howard had desire to hear. So they returned to the aft.
 

They didn’t talk about anything they’d overheard. They didn’t speak at all. Howard quickly fell asleep and all Kale could think about was the fact that Erica was bit. She would change. They would have to do something. In fact, they should do something right away, he knew. The longer they waited, the more the danger to them all increased. Assuming of course she was
actually
bit.
 

I can do something. I can be the hero we need.
Kale crossed his legs, folded his arms and lay slouched on the cloth bench once again, letting his face soak up the sun. His eyes closed beneath his bushy black brows and his body finally felt calm.
 

Another interruption. To his surprise, it was Alec.
 

Kale sat straight. “Hey.”
 

Alec didn’t look at Kale, eyes on the snoring Howard. “Is he a deep sleeper?”
 

“The deepest I know.”
 

Their eyes finally connected. “We have to talk. I owe you this talk.”
 

Holy crap, it’s happening. He’s realizing it all now!
Kale shifted to give Alec room to sit. He never did though, and remained standing at a distance. “I’m ready when you are. You and Scot and Homer know that.”
 

“I need to say a few things. Don’t act out. Don’t respond. Just listen, okay?”
 

Kale nodded.

“First of all, I’m grateful every day you were there to save us when...” Alec’s voice drifted, concerned about Howard overhearing.
 

“I swear, don’t worry about him. Nothing wakes him.”
Not exactly true, but I need Alec to say what I hope he’s going to say.
 

Alec continued, “I’m grateful you were there, Kale. Okay?”
 

“I appreciate that.”
Tell me I was right all along.
 

“Listen. You’re wrong about me. You always have been. I’m just a normal guy. I’m not special. I’m no hero, okay? I tried to be a firefighter and because of me, a good man was killed. A hero died.” Alec pressed his fingers to his temples. “Then I tried to save my brother. Brian was a hero. It was my fault back then, and it was my fault last night. They’re both dead.”

Kale’s gaze remained strong and direct. “I’m sorry, Alec, but you’re wrong.”

Alec grabbed Kale’s shirt with two hands and tugged him. “I told you to
just
listen
,” he seethed.
 

Kale’s mouth stayed shut.
How can he still act like this? After everything that has happened—how?