Winter Apocalypse: Zombie Crusade V (14 page)

That finally made sense to Deb; she released a pent-up sigh and agreed, “Of course, we don’t really have a better option. Let’s  do it.”

Michael reached the rendezvous point and dropped anchor just in time to watch Roberto sidle up to the tug and pull a stranger with a large duffle bag aboard O’Brien’s boat. “What the—?”

“Jesus, Michael, are you seeing this?” Robbie sounded concerned. “Who is that guy, and where did he come from?”

“I have no idea,” Michael replied, “but rescuing survivors is a good thing, right?”

Carolyn playfully punched him in the arm. “Why do you always sound sarcastic? Of course it’s a good thing. Can you imagine what it would be like to be alone in the middle of all this? I mean, we need to make sure he hasn’t been bitten—”

“There’s Bruce and Father O’Brien,” Robbie interrupted, pointing over at the tug. “The old guy doesn’t look so good.” Michael, Robbie, and Carolyn watched in silence as Bruce helped the injured priest into a sling-like seat that had been rigged up with ropes and pulleys. He gently lowered him to Roberto’s outstretched arms. Once Bruce was safely on the deck of the yacht, it slowly turned and headed toward the Canadians.

Without a word to each other, Robbie and Michael each tucked a .357 Magnum under their coats. “I swear, you two think you’re cowboys but you’re really just a couple of negative Nancies . . .” Carolyn sniffed as she dabbed at the tears she was trying to contain. “We’re losing Father O’Brien, maybe fate has sent us someone to help ease our burden.”

“Maybe fate could have steered that ferry somewhere else. Maybe fate could have sent us some warmer weather. Maybe fate could have decided that a zombie pandemic was a bad idea . . .”

“Hey, Michael, knock it off.” Robbie put his arm around Carolyn. “You know that she and Father O’Brien got close these past few weeks. We all grieve differently; don’t make fun of her for trying to cope the best way she can.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry.” Michael sounded distracted as he kept an eye on the yacht from Middle Bass. It cut its engine and floated up to meet them. Michael looked at Carolyn, “I really am sorry, and I’ll try to mind my manners, but I don’t like the looks of that guy.”

The stranger appeared to be in his mid-twenties; he was wearing cammo from head to toe, and he was talking a mile a minute to Bruce while gulping down water and stuffing his face with whatever food Brittany had given him. Roberto was staying close to Brittany, who was preoccupied with Father O’Brien.

The stranger let out a loud, low whistle. “Man, that is one fine fancy boat ya got there.”

Michael had almost forgotten that the hybrid, “Al Gore Special” Carolyn had procured for their trip was a high-end, luxury item. “Yeah, we like it,” he managed to sound pleasant enough. “So where’d you come from? Is anybody else out there in need of help?”

“Naw, man, I’m the only one who survived from my crew. I thought for sure that I was a goner until I saw you all tryin’ to bust outta the bay. I owe Roberto here my life. My name’s Doug, Doug Blevins. I’m from Detroit. What about you?”

“I’m Michael.” He tilted his head toward his friends. “This is Robbie and Carolyn. I’d love to talk to you, but I think we’re all worried about Father O’Brien.”

“Yeah, Bruce here said the old guy has a bad ticker, and after losing a lot of blood in some accident back here he probably don’t have much time. I said I’d help move the geezer to his cabin. At least I’m gonna try—my back’s been killin’ me, so it may be up to Roberto to save the day again.”

Michael turned to Robbie and lowered his voice, “And you’re worried about me being insensitive? Let’s get over there, but keep your eye on that guy.”

They were aboard O’Brien’s boat in less than five minutes, and Michael told his friends that they shouldn’t plan on an extended visit. He was getting anxious to return to Manitoulin Island.

Carolyn had grabbed her purse in case Father O’Brien was finally in need of any of the painkillers she’d offered earlier, but the old priest still insisted that he couldn’t feel a thing. Brittany wouldn’t leave his side, and Roberto stayed close to Brittany, rubbing her shoulders and stroking her hand.

Robbie shook the old man’s good hand. “I’m honored to have known you, and I’ll never forget what you did for us.”

Father O’Brien whispered, “There’s one thing you can do for me, Rocky.”

“Anything,” Robbie dropped down on one knee. “Just name it.”

The old priest smiled, “Make an honest woman of Carolyn. She’ll be the best wife a man could have . . .”

Carolyn turned beet red, and started to object, but Robbie was still focused on Father O’Brien. “Shoot, Father, I was gonna do that anyway. But you have my word.”

Robbie patted the old man’s shoulder and stood up. He made eye contact with Carolyn, who was tearing up once again. Robbie hugged her tightly while Michael knelt down by Father O’Brien.

“Thank you, Father, for helping us understand what’s happening in this crazy world. When you see my Uncle Jim, tell him we took his advice.”

The old man smiled. “God Bless you, Michael Carboni. Don’t forget what I told you earlier.”

Michael stiffened, but tried to sound reassuring, “I won’t forget, Father.” He turned to Robbie, “Can I talk to you up on deck?”

“Sure, we should give the good Father a little breathing room.” He kissed Carolyn lightly. “Come get me if you need me, babe.”

Michael was waiting for Robbie outside the cabin door. “You know Bruce is going to make sure the Father has a proper final end. We don’t need to hang around here anymore.”

“Let’s give Carolyn a couple more minutes. To tell you the truth, I just want to put as much distance between this place and us as possible.” He looked around the deck, “Where is Bruce anyway?”

“And where’s Doug—“ Michael began, but the question seemed to answer itself when the barrel of a gun jabbed him in his back. He was quickly frisked, and Doug relieved him of his weapon.

Robbie had drawn his .357 and pointed it at Doug’s head. Doug growled in Michael’s ear, “Tell your friend to drop his gun or you’re a dead man.”

Robbie kept his weapon level. “How do I know he’s not a dead man anyway. At least this way you only get one of us.”

  Doug tried a different approach. “I just want your boat, man. You all can stay here with the sick dude, then go wherever you need to go. I got responsibilities elsewhere.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Robbie asked evenly.

“I told him to get me some of those pain meds the brunette was yapping about.”

“Where is he?” Robbie repeated.

Michael spoke up, “My guess is that he’s under that tarp behind you, Robbie. There’s a blood smear on the deck.”

“He wouldn’t take the bimbo’s purse, and he got all mouthy when I said I was with the U.S. Army.”

Robbie cocked his head, “You’re working for Barnes? Why didn’t you say so?” He let the implication hang ambiguously.

Doug grunted, “Why would you care?”

“Where do you think we got this boat, dumb-ass? You better do some fast talking if you really are working for the General.”

Doug looked confused, “He wanted to see how the infected would handle being shipped from place to place; I don’t see how your fancy yacht could help with that.”

Robbie narrowed his eyes, “So you screwed it up, didn’t you? And you were trying to run away.”

Michael was beginning to think that Robbie should have been an actor instead of a hockey player, but he wasn’t sure exactly where this ruse was headed. Unfortunately, Doug wasn’t quite as dim-witted as he first appeared.

“Nah, you guys are Canadian.  And it’s President Barnes. I can see why the president hates Canadians. We’re gonna use the Great Lakes to wipe out a few of your island holdouts. Now toss me your gun or say goodbye to your friend.”

Carolyn stumbled into the scene, her coat unbuttoned to reveal substantial cleavage. She held her hands above her head in a gesture of surrender while her purse dangled loosely from one shoulder, “Oh, Lord, Robbie, just do what he says. Toss him your gun.”

“Jesus, Carolyn, you’re not helping here.“ Robbie chastised.

“Honey, Father O’Brien just passed. Who knows how long before he turns . . .” Carolyn began.

Doug cut in, “Turns, what do you mean? That old cout was bit?”

Carolyn walked closer to Doug and Michael. “How did you think he got injured? One of those creatures ate half of his hand, God rest his soul. Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it? If Robbie gives you his gun, will you make sure that Father O’Brien can rest in peace? Didn’t you say you had a bad back? I’ve got all sorts of pain pills that might help you out.”

Doug gave Michael a hard shove toward Robbie, grabbed Carolyn with his free hand, and pulled her in as his new human shield. “Honey, you and I might just be able to work out a deal.”

Carolyn pointed out the obvious, “I’d like you better if you didn’t have a gun in my back. Can you and I go have a little private talk somewhere? These boys don’t appreciate it, but I’ve earned quite a reputation for my diplomatic skills. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement where nobody gets hurt.”

A sinister grin bloomed on Doug’s face as he peered over Carolyn’s shoulder at her partially exposed bosom, “I bet you have earned yourself quite a reputation. I think you and I should have ourselves a diplomatic conference on that fancy boat. Let’s go.”

When Doug gave her an encouraging shove and took a step forward, Carolyn wiggled around so she could look him in the face. “Won’t you take care of Father O’Brien first?” she pleaded sincerely. “And you can let me know what meds you want,” she added, opening her purse to reveal a virtual pharmacy. “I’ve got Vicodin, generic hydrocodone,” even though she had a limited range of motion, she started pulling out various prescription bottles and pushing them towards Doug’s chest, “be careful with this OxyContin . . .” Her captor let go of her arm and bent slightly forward to catch the enticing cascade of painkillers. Before he knew what hit him, she’d pressed the barrel of her .380 ACP to his temple and pulled the trigger. “That was for Bruce; too bad you didn’t suffer.”

Michael was speechless. Robbie flung himself at Carolyn and wrapped her in his arms, “Baby, you’re amazing. I love you so much,” he declared, “but what the hell did you think you were doing? You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have gotten all of us killed! I actually think I might be having a heart attack right now . . .”

“You were the one in the middle of a standoff with a psycho,” Carolyn rebutted. “But I never knew you were such a great actor.”

“You were watching us?” Robbie was incredulous.

“Not for long, but I had to do something. That bastard killed Bruce. He would have killed both of you if he’d had the chance.”

Michael found his voice. “You never cease to surprise me, Carolyn.” He tipped his head in a gesture of respect. “I’m sorry about Father O’Brien—why don’t you let Robbie and me make sure that he doesn’t come back—”

“Oh, he’s not gone yet. Brittany and Roberto are telling him funny stories from their childhoods, but I’m not sure he can hear them. They don’t have any idea what’s been going on out here, and I don’t want them to find out about Bruce just yet—not until Father passes. I don’t think we’ll have long to wait.”

Down in the cabin, Brittany and Roberto had run out of stories to tell. The dying priest was burning up with fever, and had shown no sign of consciousness for a while. Brittany had watched people succumb to the infection before, but never this quickly. She realized that O’Brien was old, and certainly not in the best of health, but she also suspected that he was more than ready to go. In fact, the widower had probably been looking forward to this event for nearly five decades. He’d lived without his wife and two children since he was twenty-five years-old, and now he was going to find them. At least that was Brittany’s hope as she watched yet another loved one fade away.

Roberto was quietly snoring when Father O’Brien opened his eyes and stared lovingly at Brittany. He drew a few shuddering breaths and whispered, “I saw them.”

Brittany smiled back and nodded, new tears springing to her eyes as she considered the priest’s words. He then took another ragged breath and grabbed her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “You have to tell Gracie. Tell her.”

“Tell her what, Father?”

“I saw Levi, too.”

“Okay,” she promised, unsure of whom he was talking about.

O’Brien apparently was worried that his message wasn’t getting through, as he squeezed her hand even more tightly. “Tell her, only her father. I only saw Levi.” He let go of Brittany’s hand and quietly passed away.

When Brittany and Roberto came up to let the others know that Father O’Brien was gone, Michael quickly slipped down to the cabin and made certain that the priest wouldn’t reawaken as one of the monsters. Robbie and Carolyn bore the burden of telling the two young people about Bruce, and they shared what Doug had said about Barnes trying to transport the infected over water in order to target islands in the Great Lakes. Roberto felt responsible for Bruce’s death, but Brittany wouldn’t hear of it.

“Evil people are accountable for their own actions; you’re not responsible for that bastard’s sins. Now, the best way we can honor Bruce and Father O’Brien is to take what we’ve learned back to Middle Bass and figure out what to do from there.”