Apocalypse Drift (26 page)

Charlie sensed movement behind him. Seconds later, Rod reached up and pulled the .38 caliber revolver from Charlie’s belt. In one motion, Rod aimed the pistol around Charlie’s body and began pulling the trigger as fast as his finger could respond to his brain’s command.

Several things all seemed to happen at once. Hank was completely shocked by the gunshots, as the man he was watching had his arms up in the air. It never occurred to him that there was more than one intruder on the boat. His mind froze for just a moment as his eyes adjusted to the bright, muzzle flashes exploding not 15 feet away.

After a few hundredths of a second, he managed to send the command to his finger to pull the trigger. The
Glock pistol in Hank’s grip held 17 rounds of 9mm ammunition, but not for long. Hank’s brain was sending repeated impulses: PULL THAT TRIGGER and KEEP PULLING. 

Rod’s neurons were imitating Han
k’s. Rod didn’t intend to use Charlie’s body as a shield. As he attempted to move from behind and get a clear shot at Hank, his feet got tangled up, and he began a downward descent. He reached out and grabbed for something to balance himself, pulling Charlie down with him.

Hank saw both men collapse on the deck and was unsure if he had shot them both or if they were diving for cover. He took two quick steps forward and started firing into the transom. Both Rod and Charlie were struck multiple times. Even if they hadn’t been entangled, there was no avenue of escape. Hank fired 17 shots
into the two men, but only five found human flesh. Five was enough, and when the empty pistol finally locked open at battery, both burglars were already dead.

Hank watched the two men lying on the deck for over a minute, waiting for any sign of movement. He felt very weak and realized he hadn’t taken a breath for a long time. He opened his mouth to inhale and a sudden, sharp pain racked his chest. His legs became weak, and he desperately needed to sit down.

The deck and surrounding boats began swimming around wildly, swirling in his vision as he tried to sit. Something warm against his skin compelled him to touch his sternum. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered with a warm, wet liquid.
What is this?

Hank tried to hold his blood-
drenched hand up closer to his face, curious about what was causing the sensation. His last sight was the wooden planks of the pier rushing toward his face, and then total blackness.

David sprang out of bed first, followed quickly by Wyatt, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Were those gunshots?” both men asked at the same time. David grabbed the AR15 and inserted a magazine, then handed his father the shotgun.

Morgan and Sage were up by then, the entire family curious what was going on. David held his finger up to his lips and made a “Shhhhhhhh” sound. Sage instinctively switched on one of the overhead lights, and David snapped at her, “No light!” His sister quickly shut it off.

While motioning his family to stay back, David peeked out between the curtains. The darkness prohibited him from seeing much of anything, but one thing was obvious – there wasn’t anyone close to Boxer, and the back deck was clear.

Using hand signs, David motioned to his family that he was going to the back deck. He made it clear he didn’t want company. Wyatt was upset, but couldn’t stop his son in time. As Wyatt watched his oldest child reach for the door, a terrible angst flashed though his mind. “David has his whole life ahead of him. Mine is almost over. I should go first.”

Wyatt lurched, grabbing his son by the shoulder and stopping him. David was stunned by the act, throwing his father a questioning look. Wyatt pointed at his chest and made it clear, “Me, first.”

As Wyatt ventured out onto Boxer’s back deck, he felt silly scanning around with the shotgun pointing wherever he looked. His feelings of inadequacy were highlighted by the realization he hadn’t chambered a round. Wyatt grunted at his mistake. In its current state, it wouldn’t have mattered if a herd of stampeding zombies was boarding the boat - he couldn’t have fired the weapon. He was relieved at hearing the deck creak, a signal that David was right behind him. After checking all around Boxer and discovering no threat, Wyatt whispered back to Morgan that it was clear.

There wasn’t any way to tell where the gunshots had come from. For a few minutes, Wyatt and David began to question whether they had actually heard anything at all. David mounted Boxer’s bridge to scour the marina. He reported seeing lights coming on in several boats. Evidently, others had heard the same sounds. It wasn’t long before flashlight beams were sweeping all around the slips.

Rose awoke with a start, automatically reaching for the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool and empty, no Charlie. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, calmly believing him to be asleep on the couch. She had to use the ladies’ room anyway, deciding she would weather his ire at being rousted and coax him back to bed. It was the lesser of two evils, as he would complain all day tomorrow about his sore back if she allowed him to spend the night on the sofa.

After relieving herself, she padded into the living room to find an empty couch. Still not overly concerned, she began to search the house for her husband. The kids were fine, sleeping deeply in the odd positions that little ones always seem to work themselves into. She picked up a stuffed bear from the floor, tucking it back under the small arm that would be seeking it later.

A chill that originated on top of her head traveled down her back, resolving in her toes. Rose had discovered the open garage door.
That
was very unusual and she wondered where Charlie would have gone. Her mind, still fighting to clear the cobwebs, took a few moments to recall the stolen food and the pistol.
No, Charlie
, she thought,
I hope you didn’t decide to do it again.

The rest of the night, most of the boaters were denied sleep. The residents of
Marinaville checked their respective piers and didn’t identify anything unusual or threatening. It was the following morning before someone noticed Hank’s body, lying in a pool of dark red. Moments after the first grim discovery, the two dead prowlers were discovered.

Everyone seemed to need to congregate at the scene of the crime. Despite the men warning several of the women not to look, they all did, and many turned away in pale shock. There was a natural desire to try and figure out what had happened, but no one was a homicide detective. Amateur sleuths abounded, spouting suggestions born of wisdom garnered from reruns of
NCIS and Monk.

It was impossible for anyone to know for sure exactly what happened. Clearly, the two dead strangers were breaking into a boat. The pry bar, broken glass, and physical position of the bodies made that clear. But how had Hank managed to get shot? Who had surprised whom?

After all the rampant speculation engendered by the throng of would-be crime scene investigators, the crowd slowly started breaking up and going about the daily routine. It was David who recognized one of the dead thieves from the pool party. He reached underneath the body and removed a wallet and located a Lone Star state driver’s license, complete with name and address.

There was another discussion about what to do with the bodies. The GPS in Wyatt’s car verified that one of the strangers lived close by. It was decided that several of the men would wrap the two burglars in an old sail and return them to the
address. They would bury Hank at sea, the same way as the dead girl. As they were gathering bags of landscaping stones, Wyatt couldn’t help but look around and say, “I sure hope we don’t run out of rocks before this is all over.”

Rose was up early, busy getting the kids ready for the day. She jumped slightly at the knock, these days they rarely had visitors anymore. Instinctively, she sensed something was wrong and was somewhat relieved when she peered through the peephole and didn’t see a policeman. She had been expecting either her husband or a deputy there to inform her of Charlie’s arrest. 

The clean-cut young man she could see through the warped view of the peephole was a stranger. Her brief hesitation was chased by thoughts of her missing husband, so she answered the door.

David had been chosen to knock because he was the youngest and probably the least threatening of the pallbearers. When Rose opened the door, he cleared his throat. “Ma’am, does a Charlie
Beckenworth reside here?”

Rose paused, wondering how to respond to the question. As her eyes darted right and left, David understood her reluctance to respond. “Ma’am, there’s been an
acci…ummmm…there’s a problem.”

It clicked with Rose immediately. David’s tone of voice and body language said everything. Rose’s gaze became intense, her head shak
ing as she uttered a chest deep “Nooooooo.”

Pushing past David and tearing into the front yard, she didn’t seem to notice any of the men standing there. The distraught woman saw the two wrapped bodies lying in the grass and rushed to kneel beside the closest one.

Wyatt edged next to Rose, not sure if he should let her unwrap the sail or stop her. In the end, it didn’t matter. Rose took only a moment to pull apart enough of the fabric to see it was her husband inside. She looked skyward and screamed, “Charlie! Oh my God, Charlie! No, no, no!” Rose started to fall over, and Wyatt caught her. She was wailing and trying to breathe at the same time. The situation was made worse when the kids, looking for their mother, streamed out the front door, immediately confronted with the ashen face of their father wrapped in the pale, white sailcloth.

The sight of four unfamiliar men carrying what was obviously two dead bodies through the middle of the subdivision drew the attention of several neighbors. Mrs.
Beckenworth’s cries, now almost constant, attracted even more residents. David looked up to see a growing assembly at the edge of the front yard with even more folks drifting down the street, naturally curious about the peculiar affair.