“Are you sure
I shouldn’t come with you?” Parker paced across the stern as Adam lowered the dinghy into the choppy water. The day had dawned gray and blustery with a sudden dip in temperature, and Parker zipped up his hoodie, jamming his hands in the pockets. His bare feet and legs below his shorts were cold, but he didn’t feel right wearing shoes on deck. It made him feel less connected to the boat somehow.
Adam wore his jeans, leather jacket, and sturdy boots. “I’m sure. If I have to worry about you, it’ll take longer. There’s no dock, and the tide isn’t low enough to wheel out Mariah. There are definitely creepers here, and possibly uninfected too. I can’t tell for sure at this distance. There’s no sense in you taking any chances. I won’t be long.”
Parker squinted at the shore. They were just north of the Outer Banks of North Carolina. “See if you can get some water. Just in case.” The
Bella Luna
had a rainwater collection system that fed into filtered storage tanks, but they could never have too much. He passed Adam the collection of canvas tote bags they’d found stashed in the kitchen.
“Will do. I’ll be back soon. You have the gun?”
He nodded to the bench of the little seating area beyond the boat’s wheel. “Locked and loaded. I can’t believe I just said that.”
With a smile, Adam kissed him quickly. “I’ll be back soon, Dirty Harry.”
Parker watched Adam pilot the dinghy to shore, the small motor sounding incredibly loud. They’d anchored in the curve of a natural harbor, and Parker looked left and right, peering into the trees once Adam had disappeared. He could only see branches and thinning leaves, yellow amongst the green.
After retying the sails, he waited and watched, shivering in the wind and stubbornly refusing to go below deck for the scuffed Topsiders he’d found under the bed, or at least a pair of socks. He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Pacing again, he scanned the trees restlessly, shivering in the blustery morning. “Come back, come back, come back,” he muttered, wishing he had a watch so he’d know how long Adam had been gone. It’d been at least an hour now, and Parker’s stomach knotted into another clove hitch. A slide show of horrible things that could have happened to Adam tumbled through his mind.
Adam was immune to the virus, but what if there were too many creepers and he couldn’t fight them off? Sure, he had super werewolf strength, but what if there were hundreds and he got trapped—and they overwhelmed him and tore him apart? What if he was hurt?
“I have to go find him,” Parker muttered as he squinted into the distant trees. “But I need the bike. Have to wait for low tide. If he’s not back in another hour, I’ll…”
What? What the fuck am I going to do?
The wind whipped, flapping the sails, and Parker frowned. He’d tied them down, but—
Turning, his heart just about exploded right out of his chest at the sight of another sailboat—even bigger than the
Bella Luna,
probably sixty feet—closing in. It approached without the telltale hum of a motor, sails still up. Parker had only heard the luffing sails over the wind and choppy sea when the boat was practically on top of him. He’d been so focused on the shore he hadn’t looked behind.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Two men pulled the sheets off their winches, and the boat jolted nearly to a stop. A younger woman around thirty stood on the bow, casually holding a shotgun, its muzzle pointed down. Parker’s gaze darted to his pistol on the bench. It was a good three steps out of reach. He raised a hand in greeting, his frozen smile threatening to crack, pulse galloping. “Morning.”
The other boat drifted right into
Bella
’s hull, rubbing up with a horrible screech. Parker spread his legs and kept his footing as the boat rocked and settled again. A short balding man smiled broadly, showing crooked teeth.
“Mornin’. You all alone out here, son?” A handgun stuck out from his waistband. He was small, but all coiled muscle.
Parker wanted to say no, but perhaps it was better for Adam to come as a surprise. As he nodded, he considered the odds again on going for his gun. There was no way. These people looked rough and tumble, as his mom would have said. A grizzled woman leaned against the wheel, chomping on gum and cracking it like gunfire.
Shorty smiled again. “Well, it’s a good thing we came along and spotted ya. No one should be alone out here.”
The younger woman of about thirty tucked a long lock of reddish hair behind her ear. She smiled, and Parker’s knotted stomach flipped. “It’s not safe,” she said.
They seemed to be waiting for a response, so Parker scraped out, “I’m good,” his throat suddenly full of gravel. “Don’t need any help, but thanks. It’s really nice of you guys to stop and check.”
Shorty waved a hand magnanimously. “No bother at all. We’ve got to look out for each other, huh? Some scary shit going down.”
“Yeah.” Parker tasted bile, the numbness from his toes spreading up his legs. He wanted to glance back at shore to see if Adam had appeared, but he kept his gaze on Shorty.
Maybe they’re not bad. Maybe they’re just being neighborly. Maybe—
“We’re going to have to go ahead and come aboard.” Shorty managed to actually sound regretful. “Getting low on food, so we need to borrow yours. You don’t mind, do you?”
The other man, paunchy and tall and built like a brick house, was idly chewing something that was probably tobacco. He leaned over and spat into the water. They all watched Parker, apparently waiting for another response. Parker could only shake his head.
Shorty launched himself over both railings and onto
Bella
’s deck in two efficient movements. “Thanks, son. This is real good of ya. Just to be sure, you ain’t lying to us, are you? There’s no one down below? Because we really don’t want to hurt anyone. We just need a little help. You understand.”
“It’s just me.” Parker was proud that his voice didn’t tremble the way his knees did. “Go ahead. Take whatever you need.”
The redhead and other man clambered on board without Shorty’s finesse. The redhead said, “Thanks, sugar.”
Parker inched toward the bench. If he could just get the gun, maybe—
“Now let’s not do anything stupid.” Shorty strode over and scooped up the weapon.
Parker inhaled a wave of BO. None of them looked as though they’d cleaned themselves in days. He supposed it was apt considering they were basically pirates. They just needed eye patches and peg legs. And maybe a parrot.
“What’s funny?” Shorty demanded.
“Nothing,” Parker answered, his voice too high, hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat, his pulse wild. He was going to piss himself.
Adam, where are you?
The pirates’ boat rubbed up against the
Bella Luna
roughly as the wind whipped. They stared at him. Parker had no idea what they were waiting for. The woman asked, “You packin’ anything else?”
He shook his head. It was the truth, at least.
“Clothes off,” Shorty ordered.
“I… What?” Parker’s heart jumped all around, and his voice was practically a squeak.
“Take your clothes off so we know you ain’t lyin’ about what else you got on you.” Shorty shook his head sadly. “Sorry to be suspicious, but we can’t be too careful these days.”
Willing his hands not to shake, Parker stripped off his hoodie and T-shirt. Humiliation burned his cheeks as he unzipped his shorts and kicked them free. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
“Undies too,” Shorty said regretfully. “Sorry. We want to trust you, but, well.” He held up Parker’s gun. “If you’d just been honest from the get-go…”
Choking down the urge to scream out the fear and fury ballooning in his chest, Parker tugged at his boxers. He kicked them free and stood there naked, their eyes crawling over his body like a thousand spiders. He kept his hands fisted at his sides, resisting the powerful urge to pathetically cover his privates.
“Don’t worry, kid,” the old woman called. “It’s real cold out, so we won’t judge too harsh.” She guffawed, a hoarse wheeze that was likely the product of a pack a day.
As they all laughed, fresh shame flooded Parker from his head all the way to his toes. “What the fuck do you want? Just take the food and go!”
Shorty was suddenly in front of him with the gun raised, and pain exploded in the side of Parker’s head. He cracked his knees on the deck, his vision fading from white bursts to black, then the worn wood swimming into focus again as he held himself up on his hands.
“Why’d you have to go and be so rude?” Shorty spat. “Here we are trying to be as nice as can be. Don’t ruin it for everyone. You hear?”
On his shaking hands and knees, the pain in his head too much, Parker nodded. Something smacked hard against Parker’s butt, echoing with a crack. A hand.
“That’s a real sweet piece of ass you’ve got, so be a good fuckin’ boy or we’ll have to take a bite. You get me?” Shorty slapped Parker again, harder. The sting was nothing compared to the overwhelming ache in his head, burning and stealing his breath.
As they ransacked the boat, Parker could only curl onto his side on the deck, choking down bile and tasting the blood that dripped down from his temple. He wanted to cry for Adam like a pathetic fucking baby, and pitiful tears pricked at his eyes.
“See now? We only took what we needed. Fair’s fair.”
Parker realized Shorty was talking to him when the man nudged him with his foot.
Fuck you, you piece of shit. I wish you were dead. I wish Adam would come back and tear your head off your stupid little body.
Of course he stayed silent while his mind screamed.
Shorty bent and slapped Parker’s ass again. “You did like’s you were told, so we’ll be on our way. Happy trails.”
The younger woman laughed. “You sure, Mick? We could have some fun with this cute little puppy. Bet he’s good with that mouth.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Parker curled into a tighter ball, his heart frantic. He could see Mick’s musty boots in front of him. The man leaned down, his stale, cigarette-stinking breath wafting over Parker’s face. Parker didn’t so much as breathe.
Just go. Please go. Leave me alone.
“Nah. Not sick of your mouth yet, sugar-tits.”
The woman laughed, and there were wet sounds of kissing before the shuffle of feet.
Bella
rocked as they clambered back over the railing, the hulls groaning against each other. The other boat’s engine started, and Parker forced himself to focus. His vision swam, but he made out the name as they powered away through the harbor and out to sea.
The Good Life
Parker’s head thunked back on the deck. Shivering, he ordered himself to get up and put his clothes back on.
Up on your feet and be a man. You’re fine. Get up.
He spat out blood, his eyes going unfocused. The boat bobbed in the tide, the wind not relenting. He was so cold. He had to move. Had to get up. Had to…had to…
W
here’s Parker?
He wasn’t standing on the deck watching as Adam steered the dinghy away from shore, leaving a group of infected splashing after him to their doom.
Nearing the boat, the hair on Adam’s body stood on end as Parker didn’t appear. A cold weight settled in his gut as he concentrated, reaching out with his senses so he could hear Parker’s heartbeat. It was there, beyond the roar of the dinghy’s motor, but it stuttered and jumped. Maybe he was napping and dreaming. Maybe it was nothing.
“Parker?” Adam dragged the loaded dinghy up onto its resting place in the hollow of the stern. He stood on the little lowered platform and knotted the rope the way Parker had taught him. Then a mess of scents wafted toward him with the breeze. It smelled like…
People.
His heart plummeting, Adam leapt up to the deck. For a moment, he could only stare in horror. Then he was at Parker’s side on his knees, a helpless roar screaming through his mind. “Parker?” He touched the blood on Parker’s temple and gingerly prodded as Parker opened his eyes.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”
“I couldn’t stop them.” Parker started shivering so hard his teeth chattered, and for an awful moment Adam thought he was infected. But no, he was just freezing. He was naked and hurt and
someone did this
.
Adam could barely see through the red curtain of fury, his fangs and claws extending as a growl ripped from his throat. It took a few moments to regain control and let his human side take over again. He had to. Parker needed him.
Pushing all other thoughts aside, Adam scooped him into his arms and maneuvered him downstairs. It’d been trashed—the now-empty fridge standing open, the cupboards bare and their few belongings scattered. He brought Parker to their bed, placing him down gently and covering him with the duvet and an extra blanket.
The cries and splashing of the infected by the shore hadn’t stopped. He hated leaving, but with a cautious stroke of Parker’s hair, Adam dashed back upstairs and started the engines. If the tide went out too far, they’d be beached, and the creepers could easily jolt and stagger across the sand. There were no other boats in sight, and once they were out what he thought was a safe distance, Adam dropped the anchor again.
Fat splatters of rain fell, and the boat rocked in the white-capped waves. But the sky wasn’t too dark, so he hoped for the best. The fresh supplies were still in the dinghy, and he quickly hauled them downstairs.
Parker was where Adam left him, curled into a ball beneath the blankets, his head barely showing. Adam yanked off his boots and climbed onto the bed, and Parker tensed, his breath catching on a gasp. Adam knelt beside him, wishing he knew the right thing to do or say.
“Parker?” He eased the blankets down. “Is it just your head? Can you hear me?”
“Cold,” Parker whispered, trying to pull the blankets back up, his voice a hoarse rasp.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Adam cautiously ran his hands up and down Parker’s limbs, trying to warm him and test for injuries at the same time. The rage simmered low in his gut as he saw the red marks on his backside and hip. “Did they touch you?”