Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (17 page)

Horace looked up from his spot on the end of the sofa, his eyes bleary and red from drink. “Want a stout, teacher?”

Stu pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans. “What I want is to blow your ugly head off.” He pressed the nose of the pistol against Horace’s oil-shiny forehead.

Hilda, the female warehouse worker, moved away from them. “What the hell’d you do, Horace?”

The other Docker, Alan, stepped toward Stu. “You gonna shoot him for trying to get a piece?”

“He won’t do it.” Horace belched loudly, and followed that with a bray of drunken laughter.

“What’s to stop me?” Stu asked. “Prison?”

Portia must have sensed something big was about to go down because she sprinted to get George and Josh. The older man approached, but hung back, waiting. The tension hung as heavy as fog in the air.

“Stu,” Tana whispered. She had Davis’s small hand sandwiched between both of hers.

“Take Davis and go to the front of the store, Tana. He doesn’t need to see this.” Stu kept his eyes on Horace’s. He wet his lips and tasted the saltiness of perspiration on his tongue.

“Stu. Don’t do this,” George said. “There are other ways.”

“Don’t listen to him, Mr. McCarthy. Shoot the bastard,” Josh said.

“Blow his balls off,” Portia added.

Ashley stared at them, her brows laced together with anger. “Do it, Mr. McCarthy.”

Stu pushed the barrel of the gun against Horace’s head hard enough to make the bigger man wince, and then stepped back. “You’re right, George. There are other ways.” With the gun, he gestured first at Alan and then at Hilda. “Get your coats.”

“What’re you talking about?” Alan asked, laughing.

“Get your coats and move it, the three of you.”

“Talk some sense into him, George,” Hilda said.

“I asked him not to shoot you. That’s as much as I can do.” George removed a handgun from his trouser pocket. “Now, do what he said, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

Stu and George led the Dockers to the rear door. Hilda was much quicker than her male counterparts. She begged for mercy, weeping. Horace and Alan remained quiet, smirking as if waiting for the punch line.

“Where are we going to go?” Hilda cried, grabbing at George’s shirt.

He shoved her hands away. “I don’t know. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? You’ll be dead within ten minutes, anyway.”

Horace smirked. “They ain’t gonna put us out.”

“You don’t think so?” George asked.

“No.” He set his feet and didn’t budge.

Hilda blubbered loudly, but she and Alan moved outside without a fight.

Josh snatched the collar of the fat man’s coat and yanked him effortlessly toward the door. Horace laughed and grabbed at the doorframe.

Stu stepped up and slammed the butt of his pistol down on the Docker’s pudgy fingers. Horace let go with a grunt of pain.

George pushed the door closed behind them and set the lock. “Well, that’s that.”

“It had to be done,” Stu whispered, more to convince himself than George.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream penetrated the steel door, followed by frantic pounding.

“Let me in, goddammit, George. They got her! They’re eating her up!”’

Stu couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to Alan or Horace, but decided it didn’t matter. He stepped away from the door and headed back into the supermarket, away from the screams.

George caught up with him, tears dampening his cheeks. “Dear Lord, what have we become?”

Stu didn’t have an answer.

Later, after Davis had fallen asleep, Tana crawled into Stu’s tent and snuggled against him. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot that bastard,” she whispered, her breath hot against the back of his neck.

“Why?”

“Because killing changes a man. I saw it in my husband. Something inside breaks. Another little part that makes us human dies. You wouldn’t have been the same.”

Stu chuckled bitterly. “I’m just a lost school teacher who drinks too much and isn’t sure if his daughter is alive or not. Would a change really be so bad?”

Tana planted a soft kiss on the edge of his ear, sending chills through his body. “Yes, Stu. It would.”

He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. Everything was spiraling downward, no matter how hard he tried to maintain control. Two of his students were dead, another had almost been raped, and a fourth was sinking into a deep depression. Worse, the ones who could still speak had told him to put a bullet into a man’s head. A month ago, those kids’ only cares were who to date next and where they wanted to go to college. It was disturbing. Would they turn on him like that, given the opportunity?

Chapter 24

Western Germany

Tomas snapped awake at the sound of the tires thumping on and then off the snowy shoulder. Uneasy, he wondered how long he’d been asleep at the wheel. He slowed, then pulled off the main road behind a thick stand of trees. He rubbed his eyes, then reached into the backseat and gently touched Melanie’s arm. “Listen. I need to rest for a bit.”

Melanie sat up and nodded. “Okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Where are we?”

“Just at the western border of Germany.” He squeezed her arm gently. “Don’t worry about anything. Just keep a lookout for a bit while I get a little sleep.”

Snow churned wildly, like pale flower petals being ripped down from high branches. It wasn’t especially cold as compared to Sweden, but the wind was sharp, rocking the Rover slightly when it gusted.

Leila awoke, cranky, her speech slowed by the wine. “I need a piss.” Melanie offered to go with her, but she shrugged the girl off with some incoherent comment and climbed from the passenger’s seat.

“Climb up here,” Tomas said. “You’ll be able to see better.”

Melanie settled in the seat beside him. She leaned over and picked up one of the wine bottles Leila had taken from the ferry. She shook it, but no liquid sloshed.

“Wow,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“If it makes her sleep, I’ll be sure to stop and find some more,” Tomas said.

Leila returned, her expression as cold as the wind she brought into the Rover with her. She slid into the back, jostling Christopher enough to rouse him for a moment. Bo stood and paced the rear compartment, circled then settled down again. Tomas shut off the headlights, and the world in front of them became as black as a cave.

“You had your chance to leave me. Should’ve taken it,” Leila said.

Tomas’s eyes met Melanie’s briefly. “It was tempting.”

“I’m sure,” Leila replied, resting her head against the window.

Tomas inched his seat back a little, careful not to crowd Leila’s legs and folded his hands across his chest. The engine idled softly, warm air blasting from the vents. Trying to calm his mind, he watched Melanie’s pretty profile, blue in the dim dashboard lights, as she stared ahead, watching the darkness. He felt he still needed to think of her as a child left in his care by his dearest friend, not as a desirable woman, especially one who obviously wanted him.

He noticed her fingers tapping her legs, just above the knee. He placed his hand over hers. It worked—until he moved his hand. While on the ferry, he’d placed a splint and bandage on her wounded finger. At least that one stayed still.

Tomas drifted off. His eyes slid closed, and for a few moments, he was gone, transported to a winding path. The sun shone through the trees. How green the leaves were, how warm the sun when it touched the top of his head and the backs of his hands. He was so calm. There were no more worries.

He carried a smaller, younger Christopher on his shoulders at some sort of strange zoo. The boy chirped happily over the different animals. He pointed at a lioness, her living area a tiny savannah with yellow reeds and sandy-colored rocks. In the next pen, a mother wolf emerged from a den made of rock fabricated from foam and fiberglass. On her heels followed two fuzzy gray cubs. Christopher laughed and tugged Tomas’s hair.

When they reached the third area, it appeared to be a typical family room from an average suburban house. A television sat silent at one end, and on the sofa a man, woman, and little boy watched the empty box.

Christopher pointed and bounced up and down on Tomas’s shoulders. “Look, Daddy! Look!”

At his son’s cry, the family turned toward them in unison. Tomas began to sob when he saw their faces. They wore the faces of his own family—Leila, Christopher, and himself—but something was distinctly different. Their blue eyes had gone as pale as the billowy clouds above his head.

***

.

Melanie listened to the gentle hiss of air blowing from the heater. Around her, everyone slept fitfully. Leila shifted her head from the window to rest against the seat. Christopher slipped his fingers into his mouth and then removed them again with a small
pop
. They should’ve let him out of the booster to stretch out more comfortably for a while. She watched Tomas’s face grow troubled as he slept and wondered what he dreamed.

Could she allow either of them to die without telling Tomas how she felt? What did Leila matter, now, anyway? Mentally, she vowed to confess everything, although she knew Tomas wasn’t blind, nor was he stupid. And she’d never been able to keep a secret very well.

January 1

Chapter 25

Holland, The Netherlands

The Rover hit a hole, jarring Melanie from a harrowing dream where she had been with her parents on that terrible day. In the dream, she was sitting in the middle of the Mercedes, between her mother and father. They’d been dismembered. Her father’s jaw was missing, yet he tried to speak. Her mother sat upright in the mauve suit she loved to wear to Melanie’s school functions, but her head was no longer attached to her svelte figure.

Melanie awoke with sweat gluing her clothes to her body and dampening her hair around her face and neck. Her bladder was full, and her stomach was empty. She smoothed her hair as well as she could, sat forward in her seat, and peered over Tomas’s shoulder to look through the windshield.

Leila made a pretense of reading a home décor magazine she found in the passenger’s door compartment by a small flashlight. “Look at these drapes,” she commented lightly. “These would go great with our wall colors. Don’t you agree, Tomas?”

Tomas glanced in the rearview mirror at Melanie. She shook her head.

“I saw that, little dog,” Leila snapped, whipping her head around to glare at Melanie.

Leila’s mind was deteriorating quickly, and it was increasingly obvious. She’d moved from deep depression and threats of suicide to speaking as if they were out on vacation or a daytrip and would soon return home. In her mind, her infidelity had never happened. She and Tomas lived in a dream of marital bliss. She was suddenly the perfect wife, the perfect mother. She scared the hell out of Melanie.

Melanie shrank into the backseat and adjusted the blanket across Christopher’s chest. The little boy woke briefly and then settled back to sleep. The darkness made him sleep an alarming amount of time, she had noticed. Maybe that was better. As for Melanie, she’d gone through periods of too much sleep and then times where she wondered if she’d ever find decent sleep again.

“Yes. I believe they would,” Tomas answered quickly, attempting to keep the peace.

Melanie looked out the side window at the unbroken darkness. The land rose and dipped against the odd, swirling northern lights that intermittently stained the sky. Stars twinkled brightly where the sky was the blackest.

She was about to ask Tomas where they were when the skeletal silhouette of a windmill faded into view. Holland, she assumed. She’d never been to the country and wished it was light. She would’ve loved to see those iconic windmills in the sunshine.

She wanted to ask Tomas to stop, but she didn’t need to anger Leila more than necessary. There was no reason to make things even more difficult on Tomas.

Chapter 26

London, England

“All right, then,” George said. “Cover me. This’ll not take very long, if I can get my fingers to work properly.” He removed his wool gloves and flexed his gnarled, arthritic fingers. The big hood on his parka obscured his face, and for some reason, it made Stu slightly uncomfortable.

What if George wasn’t actually George at all, but one of the infected?

Stu squinted at the older man. The gas for the generator was already running low, and the temperature was getting colder. Even without lights, trying to heat parts of the store in alternating sections was sucking the tank dry quicker than anticipated. The only thing to do was to try to tap into the bulk tank that stood behind the Asian restaurant next door.

Armed with shotguns, Stu and Josh flanked George, while Tana stood behind him with the flashlight, spraying the scant light onto the work area. Stu scanned the parking area nervously, searching for any movement. The blowing ice combined with the heavy darkness brought the visibility down to only a couple of feet.

“See anything?” George asked, his words barely audible over the howling wind.

“Nothing. How’s it looking?” Stu responded.

“Almost there. I just have to make sure everything’s good and sealed.”

Stu glanced at Tana, and she shrugged. Neither of them knew exactly what George was doing, or if he even knew what he was doing. All they could do was trust the old man. So far, he hadn’t let them down.

“Okay.” George placed his hands on the tank and pushed to his feet. He moved more slowly in the cold—a different man entirely from the quick-minded, agile former soldier he was indoors, away from the frigid temperatures. “We just have to hope this line holds up.”

They moved back toward the loading area entrance at the rear of the store.

“It’ll be so nice to have hot water again. I could use a hot shower,” Tana commented.