The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel (14 page)

He stood and backed away from it. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“Zombies?” Pike asked more than answered.

“I don’t want to believe it, but what else could they be?” said Holbrook. It all made sense, why the good citizens of Smuggler’s Bay suddenly took to violence in the streets. “Let’s check on Joann and Breslin outside.”

The three officers slipped under the gate and found Joann and Breslin with Carl Fitzpatrick shivering in the rain.

“Are you guys all right?” asked Joann.

“There were two more of them hiding back in the office.” Holbrook looked around. The surf was really getting wild now. “There’s no time to pick up the bodies. Carl, do you have locks for these gates?”

Carl nodded and pulled three fat Master padlocks out of his pants pockets. “I was trying to lock up, Chief, when those people attacked me.”

Holbrook reached up and pulled the roll gate completely down. Pike and Lawson pulled down the other two gates. They each took a padlock from Carl and locked the bar up.

“That’ll have to do until the storm lets up,” said Holbrook to Joann.

“Look,” said Breslin pointing to a few scattered figures stumbling in the rushing ocean surf down the boardwalk. “They need help.”

“Negative,” said Holbrook. “You need to get Mr. Fitzpatrick out of here and to safety. Pike, go with her. Call the State Police and the National Guard. Tell them we have rioting going on, which is impeding the evacuation. Joann, Lawson, and I will do one last sweep of the boardwalk in case there are any others trapped.”

Breslin nodded eagerly, and she and Pike escorted Carl off the boardwalk.

Lawson looked at the figures in the distance. “How many of these things do you think there are?”

“The storm’s really picking up now,” said Holbrook. “It’s getting too dangerous to be on the boardwalk. Let’s finish our last sweep quickly.”

“But what about the zombies?”

Holbrook winced at the word. It seemed so ridiculous to be talking about zombies in the middle of a super storm. “We avoid and only engage if we have to. Hopefully, they’ll get washed out to sea,” he said. “We just can’t deal with them right now.”

“But, Jim—”

“That’s an order, Campbell. We focus on the evacuation.”

There was too much going on, and the storm was escalating. Jim Holbrook had to make an executive decision, and he made one: search and rescue. If they decided to go toe-to-toe with these things in these conditions, more officers would get hurt.

The town needed them, and it was all hands on deck. Jim had already lost one officer, and he was wondering what in God’s name he was going to tell Gary’s wife.

***

Three Weeks Prior

Frankie and Ted stashed their skateboards behind Ted’s house and were around the corner from the dilapidated Morning Star Hotel, a long, narrow, one-floor building.

“So, what’s the plan?” Ted was biting his fingernails.

“We do a walk-by first to see if the girls are out there.”

“Then what?”

“First, let’s see if they’re outside.”

They rounded the corner, and immediately they saw two young, blonde girls and one brunette sitting outside the hotel on resin summer chairs with laptops open. One was talking on the phone.

“They’re out today,” muttered Frankie excitedly.

As they passed, they heard the one on the phone speaking Russian. They knew the accent because last year there was an influx of Russian exchange students who flooded the town, working as housekeepers in the mom-and-pop motels and working the games and rides on the boardwalk. Prior to that year, it was Irish exchange students.

As it ended up, there were so many complaints about the Russian exchange students that after last year, they were no longer hired. The hotel guests complained that their rooms weren’t properly cleaned, and there were even a few accusations of articles being stolen from suitcases.

Ted overheard a conversation between his mother and Irene Bissel, the owner of the Surf n’ Turf Motel, that one guest walked in on a young Russian housekeeper wiping the sink and faucets…with the same rag that she wiped the inside of the toilet.

Other guests complained about their luggage being opened and small electronics going missing. On the boardwalk, the Russian exchange students were showing up late for shifts, some intoxicated, others high on God knew what.

This year there was an influx of Asian exchange students. Frankie and Ted had no idea of which precise nationality, but they were clean-cut, quiet, and professional. The complaints ceased and everyone, businesses and clients alike, were happy.

The Russian wave had crested and receded. There was only one problem—not all of the Russian exchange students left town. In fact, all summer, right outside of the seedy Morning Star Hotel, sat a bevy of various girls on their laptops and cellphones. Occasionally a girl would run into her room and a man in a car would drive up, park, and disappear into the same room, only to resurface a half-an-hour or so later.

“What if they’re not hookers?” asked Ted after they went to the end of the block and rounded the corner.

“Oh, they’re hookers all right,” laughed Frankie. “Look at them. Every single one of them is hot.”

“So? There’re lots of hot girls in Smuggler’s Bay.”

“Not a lot of hot Russian girls. Ted, do you see any more Russian girls working in the hotels or on the boardwalk?”

“Frankie, I don’t know every single person working in Smuggler’s Bay.”

“Well, I do. Open your eyes, dude.”

“You’re so full of shit, bro.”

“So if they’re not working here, then how are they paying for the Morning Star?”

“C’mon, man, everybody knows the rents are dirt cheap there. It’s a roach motel.”

“And everybody knows that only real scumbags stay in that roach motel,” added Frankie.

“They don’t look like scumbags,” said Ted.

“You’re such a bleeding heart,” said Frankie. “I can’t believe that the local fuzz hasn’t picked up on any of this yet.”

“Maybe it’s because there’s nothing illegal actually going on there. Seriously, get professional help, man. Like, as soon as possible.”

Frankie gave him a mischievous grin. “Listen, I’m going to need a lookout.”

“A lookout? For what?”

“I’m going to sneak through these backyards until I’m around back of the Morning Star. You’re going to text me when a guy pulls up and disappears into one of the rooms, and you’ll tell me which room.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to peek and snap some shots with my phone.”

“You’re crazy, man. There’s no way I’m doing that.”

“C’mon, dude. Maybe I’ll get some prime shots of these hot Russian bitches with their clothes off. For evidence.”

“Evidence? Get the fuck out of here. What do you need evidence for?”

“If there’s really a prostitution ring set up in the Morning Star, this is something the authorities need to know.”

“No way, man. Why don’t we just call in an anonymous tip?”

“Because they’ll think it’s some kid with a screw loose playing games.”

“And they’d be right.”

“I’m sneaking back there, so you might as well do it. Unless you want me getting hurt.”

Ted shook his head. “I’m not doing shit…How would you get hurt?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a pimp lurking around in there somewhere. A pimp with a knife. No, a gun.”

“Well, make up your mind. Does he have a knife or a gun?”

“He has a gun. Okay?” Frankie sounded exasperated, but he also knew how to play his dumb friend like a fiddle.

Ted sighed. “All right. I’ll wait across the street. I’ll run into the convenience store and look at some magazines or something.”

“See, now that’s the spirit.”

“Gimme a couple of bucks.”

“What? I’m not giving you money.”

“Frankie, if I go into the store, I have to eventually buy something.”

“Oh, all right, you fucking grub.” Frankie reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulled out two dollars and some change, and shoved it into Ted’s hands. “Buy yourself something nice, princess.”

“Thanks.”

Ted started to walk back around the corner from whence they came, and Frankie dashed down a driveway for a condo development.

Ted rounded the corner, but he quickly crossed the street. Maybe if he was on the other side of the street, they wouldn’t notice him walking back. That is, if they noticed him the first time, which he didn’t think they did because they were staring at their laptops.

Except for the one on the phone. She might’ve noticed him. Hopefully she was too preoccupied with her phone conversation. Besides, he walked past them with Frankie, and now he was returning alone. Maybe she’d think he walked him home or something.

He ducked into the convenience store across the street and began eying the magazine rack, which faced away from the window looking out onto the street. He looked over his shoulder and saw the three girls sitting out front.

The one that was on the phone was now off. He looked up in time to see her fold up her laptop and stand. She said something to one of the other girls, who smiled and nodded in reply, and then she disappeared into a room, the second room from the right to be exact.

Ted didn’t like this plan. Not one bit. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Frankie: ‘girl went in second room from the right.’

Frankie silenced his phone before he forgot. He hopped the fence of a back yard when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and retrieved Ted’s text.
Good boy.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and crept along the back of the Morning Star until he reached the second to the last room from the end.

The bathroom window next to a rear exit door was pushed up, and Frankie heard a thick Russian accent. She must’ve been talking on the phone.

“Room two twelve. Yes. How close are you? Fifteen minutes. Good. See you then, sweetie.”

Frankie crept very quietly up to the window, and he was just about to peek in when he heard the toilet flush. He ducked back down as he heard the faucet running and then closing.

He raised his head up to see the brunette walking out of the bathroom. She wore shorts and a tee-shirt. Not very provocative for a prostitute.

He heard her padding around in the bedroom. She turned on the television. She was watching…a children’s show. He heard a character talking, and then he heard the girl repeating everything the character had said.

Frankie covered his mouth to stifle a laugh and bit down on his fist while the young Russian girl repeated everything she heard, exactly the way the character had said it. No wonder why these Russian girls sounded funny when the spoke English. They had cartoon characters as teachers.

Frankie looked at his phone when it buzzed again. He retrieved another text message from Ted: ‘man parked.’

Great. It was show time.

Frankie heard a knock at the door. The girl turned the television off and there was a pause. She was talking on the phone. “Yes. Larry? Yes.”

Frankie heard the chain being slipped off, and the door creaking open, letting in the sounds of the street.

“Svetlana?” It was a man’s voice.

“Hi, sweetie.”

Frankie heard a wet sound. She must’ve kissed him hello.

“On the dresser,” he heard Svetlana say. Svetlana. That was a sexy name.

That must’ve been the money. Her payment. There was a moment of silence. Was she counting the money?

“Come here,” he heard her say. Then there were more wet sounds. “Sit on the bed.”

“You look beautiful,” he heard the man say. Christ, the guy was actually complimenting a prostitute.
C’mon, man. She’s a sure thing.

He heard a zipper and then clothes rustling.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” the man said.

Ah, a regular.

“Aw, you’re so sweet. I missed you, too,” said Svetlana. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“So how’ve you been?” asked the man.

“Bored. There’s no work in this town. They don’t seem to like Russian girls here.”

“Not even on the boardwalk?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t worry, honey. Something’ll turn up.”

Wait a minute. Was this hooker complaining to her John that there was no work? That was strange.

“The money?” he heard Svetlana ask.

“Always straight to business,” he heard the man say. “It’s all in the duffle bag. Do you have the flash drive?”

Flash drive?

“Yes. Right here.”

Frankie wheeled around as he heard crunching in the dirt to his back.

“Frankie Martinez, what the hell are you doing back here?”

It was Officer Pike.

“What was that?” asked the man in the room. “What the fuck is going on here?”