Pandora 2: Death is not an Option (9 page)

The two drunken guards whom Tank had spoken to earlier had Sean, Mario, and Jack pinned down. They had run in from their position and caught the group exiting Bouchard’s house. Tommy and Carol had separated from the group, and they ran along the waterfront, heading in the direction they saw Bouchard go.

Tank, standing in the middle of the water-soaked lawn, fired until his Uzi clicked empty. Shirtless, his skin glistening in the torrential downpour, he looked down at the weapon, pulled the clip out, and, seeing it was empty, threw the clip and the gun at his opponents. Having just shot up the last of his steroid cache, he was feeling the pump. Regina had already put a round into his massive shoulder, and Malik had taken most of his right ear off with a shot. With his diamond-studded teeth bared in a grimace, he pumped his two clenched fists together in a Hulk-inspired “crab” pose and yelled out in pure, unadulterated rage. Taking one glancing shot through the side from Paul and a through-and-through from Regina, Tank roared and ran directly at them. It was as if a huge, black train were bearing down on them. In the lights from the fires, they could see the steam from his body heat rising off him as he rushed at them.

Malik, Regina, and Paul poured rounds into him as he stormed through the downpour like a rage-filled machine. Running across the lawn as the bullets tore holes in his gargantuan body, he started to slow. With huge gouts of blood flying behind him, he staggered
the last few steps, his breath whistling out of the holes in his chest. Finally, facing Regina, he stopped. His face still radiating hate, he wobbled a bit then straightened. Looking him right in the face with a stoic expression, Regina raised her rifle and shot him right between the eyes. Like a tree, he fell back, his body splashing heavily in a puddle. As he lay there dead, the blood running freely from his riddled body turned the water red.

Cpl. Rich Foley was leaning against the house, panting, when Regina came up to him. “Let’s check out what’s left in there.” She paused. “Are you okay?” When he looked at her blankly, she pointed to his shirt. “I think you’ve been shot.”

Rich looked down. The khaki T-shirt he was wearing was four shades darker because of the soaking rain, but around his abdomen, the shirt was a dark, dark red. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. Looking up at Regina again, all the pain that the adrenaline rush had concealed hit him. His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the porch. As he bent over, grabbing his stomach, Regina looked behind him and saw an ugly, gaping wound through the tattered hole in his shirt.

Paul and Malik came rushing up to him. “Rich!” Paul yelled. This brought Manny, Jamal, and Travis as well. Luis and Mike were still in the house. They all gathered around Rich, Manny getting on his knees and holding him. Rich looked up at him and then started coughing up blood. His coughing turned to gargling gasps. Grabbing Manny, he opened his mouth to speak…but then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he died.

As Manny and Rich’s units were clearing out two houses of the last remnants of pirates, Sean, Jack, and Mario were still engaged in a firefight with the two remaining guards. The big biker turned to his companion and said, “This ain’t good. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

As they moved to run away, Sean hit the other one with a direct head shot. The biker, seeing his friend go down, realized he had no chance. He threw his assault rifle out on the ground in front of him. “Okay, that’s it. I give up. Don’t shoot; I’m coming out.” Stepping out from behind his cover, he raised his hands and clasped them behind his head. He stood there, grinning at them. “You takin’ me t’ jail?”

“Fat chance!” said Jack. Then he and the other two raiders opened fire on him.

The rain was just starting to slow as Bouchard, feet splashing in the surf, ran down the beach. He was huffing and puffing, his long hair flying behind him and his gaudy pirate shirt plastered to his body with rain and sweat. Carol had just entered the beach behind Tommy, who was in wild chase. As the rain dwindled, the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated the shoreline.

She looked at Bouchard running ahead of Tommy and said out loud, “I got this.” She brought her rifle to her shoulder, sighted down the barrel, and, letting out her breath slowly, took the shot.

On the porch, Paul and Frank carried Del’s body, placing it next to Rich Foley. They all gathered around, shedding silent tears for their fallen comrades. Mike said to Manny as he surveyed the carnage, “Hey, Travis says he saw another building down the beach. It was dark, but as the moon shone, he noticed it through the palms. Take Travis and Jamal, and go check it out. I want to take a head count of the bad guys.”

Mike grabbed the two soldiers, and the three trotted cautiously down the path to the darkly painted building.

Bouchard felt a sharp, stinging pain in the small of his back. Reaching back, he tried to feel what was wrong. All he could feel
was the soaking-wet shirt. He stumbled a bit, and he looked over his shoulder. He could see Tommy running hell-bent at the water’s edge. As he turned back and tried to increase his pace, his legs suddenly stopped working. His lower half felt numb, and he collapsed, falling on his face in the shallow water. Picking his head up by propping himself on his elbows, he tried to rise again. From his waist down, he had absolutely no feeling. He couldn’t move his legs. Hell, he couldn’t even feel them. Tommy came running up to him. Breathing hard, he looked on with contempt at his helpless nemesis. Bouchard looked up at him and said incredulously, “I can’t feel my legs. I can’t get up.”

Tommy looked down and could see the hole in the small of his back. Smiling he thought,
Nice shot, Carol
.

Bouchard kept trying to head back toward shore, but his arms kept sinking in the soft, wet sand. Every time he pushed his elbow down to drag himself forward, he sunk up to midbicep in the soft bottom. Every time that happened, the incoming tide washed over his head. When the tide went out, Bouchard picked his head up, spitting and coughing seawater, and screamed, “You fuck, help me. I’m drowning here!”

Carol came up to Tommy’s side. He glanced at her, smiled, and said, “Thanks for the help.”

They stood and watched Bouchard as he coughed and gasped and struggled to drag his half-paralyzed body to shore. When it finally looked as though Bouchard was starting to make some progress, he looked up triumphantly to Tommy and Carol. A sneer formed on his wet, sandy face. As he lifted his right arm to gain more distance, Tommy stepped forward and, putting the toe of his boot in Bouchard’s armpit, shoved, tipping him over onto his back. As his eyes opened wide in shock, a wave came rushing in, washing over his
body completely. Even as the tide ebbed, his head and body were still underwater. Only his wildly waving arms rose above the surf.

Tommy bent over, wearing a grim and unfriendly smile, and stared into Bouchard’s wide eyes. As they locked gazes, Bouchard knew immediately that it was over. He opened his mouth, and his shoulders bucked a few times. Tommy stood there and watched the light go out of his eyes. When that was done, he stood up straight and looked at Carol, and then they both turned and trudged back toward the compound. As satisfying as that was, he knew it wouldn’t bring back Vince.

As Mike, Jamal, and Travis crept up to the building, the door, which was slightly ajar, flew open and with a bang bounced off the opposite wall. A slight man came running out, waving his arms and yelling wildly. He had a hammer in his hand. Seeing the three, he ran at them, screaming in Spanish. Mike raised his M15 to his hip and fired off a burst. It caught the dark-haired man in the chest and knocked him back into the moving door. He hit the door’s edge with his back and came flying forward again. The three, avenging spirits all, opened fire and tore him to pieces. The small man spasmodically danced around and then fell in a heap at the open doorway.

“Another fucking maniac,” said Jamal.

They carefully entered the small building and spread out, guns at the ready. The center of the room was lit with candles. Three steps into the center, they froze.

“What the hell is this?” gasped Travis.

“It’s a torture chamber,” said Mike in awe. “Holy shit, it’s like something out of the Spanish Inquisition.”

He wandered over and looked at the tray of horrible instruments. As he looked down in disgust, he noticed a soft whimpering coming from the end of the room. He quickly got the attention of the two soldiers, and the three of them crept toward the darkened corner. There, handcuffed to an iron pipe running up the wall, was a bruised, naked man. He had a nasty cut across his forehead that was bleeding heavily into his eyes.

“No, no please,” he whimpered, trying to push himself into the corner of the room to escape the three. “Please, no more, no more. Don’t hurt me anymore! Please, God.” Tears mixed with the blood on his absolutely terrified face. He put his head in his arms, cringing and moaning, “No more, no more,” repeatedly.

Finding a key on the floor several feet away, they quickly uncuffed him and gently raised him up to his feet. They kept saying soothing words to him, telling him that it was over and that he was safe as they guided the trembling man out of the door. As they led him away from that horrible place, the men kept clinging to Mike’s sleeve. Mike was a lot bigger than he was, so he put his arm around the man and led him through the bodies and burning wreckage to the victorious raiders. Tommy and Carol had just walked up to Manny and told everyone of Bouchard’s watery fate. As the terrified man wouldn’t let go of Mike, Jamal and Travis told Tommy what they found in that building and how they had saved the man from a mind-numbingly horrible death.

Seeing Carol and Regina looking away self-consciously from the stark-naked man, Tommy sent Jamal into one of the houses to get him some clothes. Ten minutes later, Jamal came out with a pile of clothes that they sorted through until he found some things in which to dress the pathetic individual.

Manny came up to Tommy. “I count twenty-two bodies. With Bouchard that makes twenty-three.”

“A good night’s work,” said Tommy with satisfaction. “Now let’s head back and find out what those explosions were.” Looking at the pirates’ ex-prisoner, he said, “Bring him along. We can’t just leave him here. He’s been through enough.”

The group picked up some of the weapons and ammunition, and then they rapidly headed back to the boats that had taken them to this part of the island. They were finished with this killing ground.

They boarded the boats, carrying the bodies of Rich and Del, and then turned them around and headed back. Mike patted the man sitting still next to him on the shoulder. When he looked up at him, Mike said, “Don’t worry; you’re safe with us. We’ll look after you now.”

The man, still shaking and with blood and snot smeared over his face, nodded his head at Mike and gave him a small smile. “Thank you for saving me,” he said softly.

Smiling back, Mike said, “You’re welcome. It’s all good now. They’re gone. And you can start over with us.”

Looking back at the rapidly receding shoreline and nodding, Carlos Guzman said, “I certainly will.”

9

T
he parking garage in the Marina Palm Tower was bustling with activity. The residents were busy packing their cars with whatever food and water they had as well as some extra clothes. Only the basic essentials. Because Josh had lost his car in the condo fire, he would be riding with Steve. Steve let him take some of his own clothes, but because they were different sizes, not much fit. They had just finished getting everything in order and stepped out of the packed SUV. Steve had a Toyota, which he loved. It was bright yellow and stood out in a crowd. He loved that about it.

Mark and Ginger were parked next to him, and they had just finished too. Mark was about to close the hatch when Ginger came running up. “Wait, Mark. I have this,” she called.

He turned and saw her carrying a fancy wooden case. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” she retorted. “This is all my good jewelry. I’m not just going to leave it all here. What are you, crazy?”

“Can’t you just put it in a bag or something?” Mark said, exasperated.
“This was my grandmother’s jewelry box. It’s an heirloom.”

“It’s too big,” he countered. Reaching out to take it from her, she turned her body away from him.

“No,” she cried. “I’m not going to leave this. You bought me most of these; don’t you even care?” She started to get teary.

“Okay, okay,” he said, a beaten man. “I’ll put it in for you.”

Steve and Josh looked at each other and smiled. Both men were divorced, Josh just recently so. An unspoken
oh boy
passed between them.

Dan came walking up to them. “I’m all set. I think everyone else is too.”

“Great,” remarked Steve. “Are the tanks all topped off?”

Dan nodded affirmatively.

“Did anyone find any extra gas containers?”

“No,” Dan answered, “not a one.”

“Oh well,” said Steve, “we probably won’t need them anyway. We’ll take a last bathroom break, just in case, and get ready to go.”

Twenty minutes later, everyone was behind the wheel of his or her car. Steve and Josh were in the lead car. They stepped up to the closed gate and, seeing no zombies there, quickly raised it and jumped back into their Toyota.

Starting it up, Steve slowly rolled to the entry ramp, paused, and then went up to the street and turned left. Behind Steve and Josh was
Luke. Following him was Karen, Ana, Max, Mark, Ginger, and Gail, with Dan bringing up the rear.

As they exited the garage and sped single file down the street, whatever zombies were roaming the vicinity turned and came after them. There were one or two newly turned, but the majority had been undead for a while. They reached the marina and park area, skillfully turned right, and headed toward South Flagler Drive. A number of zombies were wandering in the palm-filled park, and they started moving toward the oncoming car caravan en masse. There were a few vehicles either abandoned or wrecked in the road and along the curb, but not as many as they expected. They were just coming to the end of the grassy knoll where the park ended when a young woman raced along the lawn and started running down the hill, zombies in full pursuit. Steve could see her course would put her in front of his car. She was waving her arms and screaming, “Help me! I’m here!”