The Rising Dead (2 page)

Down by the water guys in white lab coats came and went, like mad scientists from a black and white horror film on basic cable. Soldiers in hazmat suits waded into the water, taking samples and bringing them back to the scientists.

“What are they looking for anyway?” Poppy asked.

“I don't know,” Donovan replied. “But whatever it is can't be that serious or they'd evacuate us all, right?”

“Did you feel the chill in the lobby?” Poppy said suddenly. “All the hairs on the back of my arm stood up at once.”

“You think it was that woman's ghost?”

She shook her head, her eyes growing almost as wide as her smile.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“It freaked me out,” she said, “but in a good way.”

Donovan suggested they walk the street back and hit the New York style pizzeria for beers and slices. Poppy jumped at the idea. They turned away from the water and scurried around the haunted hotel.

That afternoon the news reported that the tanker had sunk. Donovan thought it was strange that no one was saying why it had gone down, whether it had sustained damage from the fire and taken on water or whether the Navy had deliberately torpedoed the hull to intentionally sink it. The twenty-four hour news feeds all had the same details. The only channel not playing it was ESPN so he spent the evening watching an NFL exhibition game and a documentary on John Wooden.

The next day they were just gone--all of them. He woke up to get coffee and couldn't help but check for that kid one last time. To his shock there were no trucks, no scientists in white lab coats, no guys in self-contained white suits and masks, not even any soldiers. The posted warning signs were the only reminder that any of them had ever been there. It was, as Poppy had described it, eerie.

“We're not supposed to be here,” he said. “The beach is still closed.”

“Don't be silly, Donovan,” Poppy replied with one of her trademark carefree laughs that always seemed to melt his resistance away. “You’re always finding something to worry about. These are the last few hours of our break, the last chance we might have to be alone for a while. Between your obsessive devotion to your studies and my demanding social calendar, we might not even see each other again till graduation.”

“I thought that's why we moved in together,” he replied. “Why we’re living in sin.”

Poppy held her hand up to her mouth in fake shock and outrage. Donovan smirked, fighting back a smile. As much as he hated it when she mocked him, he had to admit she was pretty adorable. After all, wasn't her ability to lighten the mood in any situation part of the reason he had chosen to ask her out--over several other girls from wealthy families that insisted they would make a better match than a vacuous party girl who flunked out of college?

“Ah, I can see the start of a smile on your face,” she teased.

“Come on,” he protested, trying to fight it back.

“It's fine,” she continued, ignoring him. “See?” She lifted one foot to show him the soft pink underside. “No tar. No dead bodies. Nada.”

“I just don't want to get into any trouble. This whole area has been closed off by the military the entire time we've been here. That has to mean something.”

“And they left in the middle of the night?”

“The signs are still up, Poppy.”

“Which they probably just forgot to take down on their way out of town,” she offered. “Why are you being such a little boy about this? You sound chicken. Are you a chicken, Donovan?”

She twisted her hands up into her arm pits and flapped her fake wings, dancing around as she mocked him.

“You do understand we could get arrested,” he countered, his argument growing weaker by the second. Poppy stopped and gave him a serious look, creasing her brow and locking her eyes on his as if she hung on his every word.

“Do you have any idea what that could do to my chances of being President one day?”

He tried to stick to his argument, to stay focused, but as he spoke she began to perform a very sexy strip tease like nothing he had ever seen before, pulling her light blouse over her head first, then pushing down her cut-off jeans. His head swam.

Where did she even learn to move like that
, he wondered? It was as if she had been hiding this secret talent from him, waiting for the perfect moment to unveil it. Her shorts hit the sand about the same time as his jaw did.

“I wouldn't want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Donovan. You know that.”

His mouth had suddenly grown as dry as the sand they were standing on. Who was this amazing woman in front of him? He did his best to recover. He didn't want her to know how bad she’d rattled his cage.

“Very funny,” he replied, darting his eyes back and forth, checking up and down the beach to make sure they were still alone. He thought he saw something that looked like a clump of seaweed about the size of a dog off in the distance, but her gentle cooing drew him back.

“Happy Birthday, Mister President,” she sang slowly in a perfectly breathy, high-pitched rendition of Marilyn Monroe. With one hand she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, removing it with a quick motion and flinging it at Donovan. It landed over his head like something out of a bad 80's sitcom. Donovan was too distracted by her sudden nudity to reply. Poppy used her right arm to cover herself quickly, a slight blush obscuring her facial features, as she twisted back and forth in her bikini bottom panties. A warm breeze wafted under her white bra and made it flap around Donovan's head like a headbanger at a metal concert. Poppy laughed unabashedly as Donovan shook his head back and forth, trying to get it off.

“You are a bad girl,” he said matter-of-factly. “Are you aware of that, miss?”

She lifted the index finger from her free hand to her lips and bit down gently on her fingernail, a coy maneuver that made something deep down inside of Donovan stir to life as he stared into her deep sea foam green eyes.

“Uh huh.”

He pulled the loose bra off his head and flung it at her feet.

“I thought so. Well, I guess there’s just no way around it. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I'm going to have to spank you.”

He sprang at her with a ferocious but playful roar and Poppy, not expecting him to play along, was nearly caught off guard. She shrieked in delighted surprise and leaped out of the way at the last second, pivoting like a gazelle and racing toward the water. Donovan stopped once he’d chased her in, pulling his shirt off, balling it up and chucking it toward the drier part of the sand. Poppy dashed out into the shallow waves, loudly splashing.

“Come on!” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Be right there,” he replied. “Hold your horses.”

“Why don't you come hold them for me?”

Poppy bounced a little, exposing her pert breasts and perky nipples just above the water to tease him.

Donovan almost fell over trying to get out of his pants. He stripped down to his boxers, then charged in like he was making up for lost time. The water was cold, but felt good on his skin which already felt broiled from the hot sun reflected off the white sand. When he was up past his waist, Poppy came over and latched herself onto him. As usual, Donovan was just totally amazed by her--the way she moved, the way the light sparkled in her eyes. She was always so full of life, no matter what the circumstances were. He loved that about her, her ability to pull him back from the brink of seriousness. He needed that in his life, especially with all the pressure his family put on him to get good grades.

What would I ever do without her?
Donovan wondered.

That was something he couldn't even imagine. He hoped he'd never have to either. He pushed it out of his mind as he began plotting his revenge on her. It was time for him to pay her back for toying with him, and he knew just the thing.

Donovan unhooked her from him and swam out to deeper water.

“Where are you going?” she whined.

Donovan waited until the water was over his head. He turned back toward her, smiling. His feet brushed against something slimy, like seaweed. He hated that feeling. It was the whole reason he preferred swimming in the ocean as opposed to a lake, so that he wouldn't have to feel the muck on the bottom. Something large swam past his leg, brushing him with its rough skin. He remembered learning that changes in water due to global warming meant a whole new host of predators were now able to access these waters.

Don’t spook yourself out over nothing,
he told himself.

Poppy waved for him to come back over to her. She looked nervous.

“Donovan, come on,” she pleaded. Just then, Donovan was abruptly pulled under water, leaving only a flailing right hand waving frantically. Icy cold fear shot through Poppy.
What had she done?
She lured him out here and now something was attacking him. She screamed as he thrashed back and forth, fighting his way to the surface. She was paralyzed with fear, her high-pitched scream the only thing her body allowed to escape. Donovan went all the way under, and then everything went quiet. Poppy froze in fear. Bubbles rose to the surface where Donovan had gone under, and then there was nothing. She called out to him, unsure of what to do.

“Donovan! Donovan!”

All at once, a burst of bubbles rose up like an explosion to the surface and then Donovan was flying out of the water past his waist. He was laughing! The stitch in Poppy's chest loosened and she let out a nervous laugh that melted quickly into anger as she realized she’d been tricked. She angrily splashed at Donovan as he waded toward her to wrap his arms around her tiny waist. He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head, still upset with him.

“Don't be cross,” he said. “I was just playing.”

“That's not funny,” she chided, but she was already softening. He put his hand under her chin and gently turned her face toward his, pulling her into a kiss. She kissed back at first, soft and warm and reassuring, then pulled away and began to swim back to shore. Donovan didn't follow her immediately. Instead he dove back into the water, splashing around wildly like a kid turning an unwanted bath into a new adventure. By the time he dove through a small set of waves, she was already fully dressed, back on the shore pouting.

“Come on back in, baby,” he shouted to her. “It's really nice.”

“Not until you apologize,” she icily replied. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

Donovan was amazed at how quickly her mood had changed. It was one of the few things that bothered him about her, how mercurial she could be. Most girls were like this about once a month, but Poppy was like this all the time. Not that
he
was a picnic to be around all the time either, with his pensive nature and occasional brooding. He knew he was no saint, so he tried to be as kind to her as he could when she got this way. So far, he hadn't figured out a quick way to change her mood, especially when they were out in public. He'd already tried almost everything he could think of. He just wished there was a phrase he could use or a secret move he could learn that would make everything better again. He suspected that there was, that every woman knew it, they probably printed it in their chick magazines, but they sure as hell didn't plan on sharing it with him. He'd have to do this the hard way so he resigned himself to win her back slowly. Hopefully, the nice day would help sway her mood. Otherwise, it was gonna be a long drive home.

“I'm sorry baby,” he began, trying to sound as contrite as possible. “You know I didn't mean to frighten you so bad. I was just trying to have a little fun and . . .” Donovan's words trailed off. What he saw walking up behind Poppy made his face twist into a mask of fear.

“And what?” Poppy demanded, arms folded in front of her, a stern look of anger knitting her brow together. “Go on and finish.”

He didn't respond at first. A look of absolute terror had washed over his face.
This wasn't like Donovan to be so playful
, Poppy thought. Despite taking a semester of drama he really wasn't that good of an actor. It was unnerving. Poppy decided she wasn't going to let him trick her twice. He'd never let her live it down.

“Poppy!” Donovan cried out. “Look out behind you!” He didn't wait for her response this time. Instead, he plunged head first toward her and began swimming as hard as he could in to shore. A huge wave crashed over him, tumbling him like a heavy sweater in a washing machine. He spit water out as he came up coughing and sputtering. The tide pulled back and he got to his feet.

“Poppy, run!”

She smirked at him, the anger fading. He was just being ridiculous now. She was sure of it. He had to be. She had never seen him so out of control. If that wasn't an act then what else could it be? He was trying to humiliate her but it wasn't going to work. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being able to tease her for the rest of the year.

“I'll have you know I grew up with three older brothers,” she began, cocking her head to the side. “I've seen every trick in the book, mister.”

Just then a cold, wet hand that felt like marble clamped down on her bare shoulder. Poppy felt an unexpected wave of fear and shock wash over her as she was spun around. Unbridled terror replaced the sinking feeling of surprise as she came to a stop, face-to-face with the diseased features of what looked like a walking nightmare. The sick man was wearing tan slacks and a matching button up shirt streaked down the front with dirty brown stains and dark red stripes that appeared painted on by bloody fingers. Sunglasses rode the top of his head, twisted into the knotted clumps of ratty black hair that remained in between exposed sores and puss-filled boils on his balding scalp. His face was tinged a putrescent shade of gangrene and the skin had lost its elasticity, giving it the appearance of hanging just slightly loose, like on a corpse. His lips were darkened the color of dried blood, with the kind of deep grooves only fire or frostbite could inflict, and his broken and chipped teeth were a terrible mix of rotting gray and bile yellow. His breath smelled sickly sweet, like sugar and sewage, with a cold coming out from him that was as bone chilling as an icy winter wind that penetrated to the core. A low moan that sounded like a rattle starting in his chest erupted out of him, blowing flecks of wriggling white foam from his decaying mouth onto her, as he held her in place with both hands.