Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (16 page)

He found a clean change of clothes in the employees lockers then went to linens and chose a bath towel and wash cloth from a shelf. In the toiletry area, he found a good disposable razor, shampoo much more expensive than the brand he normally used, and body wash that smelled “like a man.”

He headed off toward the employee showers, almost happy for a moment. He relished the notion of a hot shower, but reckoned the sudden access to more light and heat was what had really lifted his mood. George had insisted they be conservative, so only half the overheads were on. The light was not as important as heat, but he was still sick of living in the shadows. He twisted the hot all the way open, added a little cold, then stepped inside. His happiness was short-lived as the water rinsed the grogginess away. His mind turned to his students, two of whom were gone. Was Brett dead or had he become infected? Stu wondered which would be more horrible. If things were better back in the States, how would he ever be able to face that boy’s parents?

He gasped, closed his eyes, and turned his face up into the spray. He’d left Brett behind, fleeing like a stupid little boy. Would he have left his own child?

Maybe I already have.

He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the cool tile, and allowed the tears to flow, the sobs racking his chest.

“Stu?” Tana said, startling him.

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself before responding. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. Why?” He blinked against the sting of hot water, trying to make out Tana’s vague shape through the fog of steam.

She moved closer, materializing from the vapor like a dark goddess. “You don’t mind if I join you?”

He couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“Do you?”

“No,” he croaked.

She stepped under the water and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you sure?” She kissed him slowly, her tongue flicking across his open lips, then slipping inside his mouth deliciously.

“Are you kidding?” he asked.

Tana pressed her body against his, and he pushed his face into her neck, loving her musky scent. She reached around him, took the bar of soap, and worked it into a thick foam. Smiling devilishly, she glided her soapy hands across his chest and stomach. Teasingly, her fingers danced lower, finally reaching his aching erection. He almost came as soon as she touched him, but somehow succeeded in maintaining control.

He explored her taut body slowly, savoring every curve with his hands, then traced the outlines of her nipples with his tongue. Finally, he pressed her against the wall.

Hooking her leg around his waist, she guided him inside her. Frantically, he thrust against her as he whispered her name against her throat. As her orgasm hit her, she drew her nails down his back and over his buttocks. His climax followed, his knees threatening to come unhinged, his breaths quick and shallow. Afterward, they stood under the shower, holding each other until their hearts slowed back to normal.

“So, how do you feel?” Tana asked.

“A little like Charlton Heston in
Omega Man
.”

She pulled away and began to bathe. “Yeah. I’m not going to pretend to understand that one.”

“It was a stupid joke.” He found the razor, lathered his face, and blindly shaved. “I’m so glad to be able to see you in the light.”

Tana laughed. “You didn’t know I was black, did you?”

“I had some idea,” Stu said, chuckling. “My redneck father is probably turning over in his grave.”

Tana rinsed and then peered at Stu intently. “Missed a spot,” she said, then kissed him on the tip of his nose.

Chapter 22

Kiel, Germany

Milo told Tomas they didn’t need to refuel in Denmark, but by the time the ferry coasted into the straits that led into the Kiel Harbor, it was doing just that—coasting. Milo had shut off the engine a mile prior to allow the currents carry the boat. Tomas instructed Melanie to keep Christopher inside the cabins until they docked. He had the sick feeling they were dead in the water, so to speak, moving so slowly through the area. He stood by, helpless, watching the jagged, black line of shore on either side.

Milo shut off most of the ferry lights, and the ferry cruised blindly, a lethargic slug easing along the channel. Small pleasure boats and mammoth freighters sat like ghost ships. A Stena Line cruise ship, as dark as a cave, cut a boxy line against the funky blue-green sky. Luckily, the currents had pushed most of the smaller crafts to the edge of the waterway, clearing a narrow, but manageable path.

Tomas spotted movement on the bank where dark shapes gathered in small groups. The figures had the jerky, hyperactive movements of the Ragers. The ferry slipped into the harbor. From there, the view opened up a bit, and Tomas could see the city spread wide. There were fires, but nowhere as bad as Gothenburg.

Milo started the engine so he could more easily maneuver the boat. Carefully, he guided it toward an unoccupied docking slip that seemed low enough to disembark the Rover safely. Anchored across the harbor was the sailing vessel, the
Gorch Fock
. Its majestic masts reached upward, the sails unfurled, but torn away in most places. They waved in the breeze like broken-winged angels.

Tomas checked his pistol. He didn’t like the movement of the gangs along the shore.

“We’re being watched,” Milo commented as he throttled down. The ferry came to a hard stop against the slip, jostling Tomas against the wall.

“I know,” Tomas replied. “And I don’t think it’s a welcoming committee.”

***

Melanie ushered Bo into the Rover, then climbed into the backseat next to Christopher. She buckled Christopher into his booster seat as Tomas and Leila settled in the front.

Before Tomas could get the engine started, Leila had tugged the cork from the half-empty bottle of wine between her thighs. There was another bottle at her feet, as well, sloshing as it rolled on the floorboard. She didn’t speak. She only turned up the bottle and drank loudly while staring straight ahead.

Melanie climbed into the backseat and buckled in Christopher, then herself. “Okay, Mr. Weller. Come on.” She’d moved over as far as she could, leaving room for him.

Milo stood beside the Rover a moment, seemingly debating. Then smiling, he closed the door and stepped away. “Go. Quickly!”

“Milo. Please,” Tomas said.

“Off with you. Now. I have to go back home and wait for my people.”

Melanie grabbed his arm through the open window. “You said some things were best left unknown.”

Milo laughed. “Don’t use my words against me, dear.” He took her hand and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles. “Go, Tomas. Get your family to safety.”

Tomas moved off the ferry and onto the road. Headlights off, he cruised through the empty city. The sky swirled with colors, eerie, yet beautiful. Melanie turned and looked back at the ferry. Every light on the vessel was on, creating a beacon in the center of a world of darkness. It didn’t appear to be moving away from the slip.

“What’s he doing, Tomas?” Melanie asked, though she already knew. She wanted to weep, but what was the use in that? Instead, she drummed a steady rhythm on her knees and counted.

“Don’t look back, Melanie,” Tomas said.

The streets had been recently used. Tire marks cut through the snow, making the driving a little easier than back in Sweden. They sporadically encountered abandoned automobiles, and Tomas maneuvered the Rover around them. Melanie thought she saw lights in some of the windows of homes and apartments. A silhouette of the famous McDonald’s arches appeared ahead, like black pen lines against a canvas of swirling colors.

Christopher asked to stop.

“You know fast food is bad for you, Christopher,” Leila said, her words a distorted mess.

***

Tomas switched on the headlights as they moved toward the edge of the city and pushed the gas pedal a little harder. He noticed headlights in the rearview mirror shortly after moving out of the city. It was unnerving, but he kept it to himself. The radio stayed on, the volume low, and Tomas periodically pressed the channel search on the steering wheel to scan for more broadcasts. They had heard nothing else since Gothenburg, and he wondered if he’d been too hasty. But they were halfway across Germany, so there was no turning back.

He checked the mirror for that pair of lights. The other vehicle had stayed roughly the same distance away, never falling too far behind and never closing in. Milo had warned him of the renegade survivors, or marauders, as the radio broadcast had called them. After the encounter back in the village, Tomas was as weary of meeting up with hungry, desperate strangers as he was of meeting up with hungry, desperate Ragers.

Christopher roused, moaned sweetly, and rested his head on Melanie’s shoulder. Tomas’s mind drifted to better times with Leila. He wished he’d never learned of her affair. In the side mirror, he glanced back at Melanie. She had nobody in the world but him and Christopher. She’d been seeing a man at school, but for some reason, he felt she had told him that to make herself appear normal. But she wasn’t normal, and she wasn’t happy. She hadn’t been either since losing her parents. He could see it plainly in her eyes. She had appeared beaten the day he’d gone to the school to take her home with him. He was a sad replacement for a real family, and Leila had never made an effort to make her feel welcome.

The tapping had gotten worse, and that broke his heart. According to her doctor, the asthma attacks stemmed from nerves. All he could do was support her and keep her safe. And if he had the opportunity to do so without being slaughtered, he would get her more Symbicort.

He pressed the channel scan again. The numbers on the radio scrolled through and then back again before a voice penetrated the static. Tomas increased the volume just enough for him to be able to hear without waking his passengers.

“
This is another installment of Zombie Radio X. If you are hearing me, you are either a survivor or a Rager.

“
And some of the survivors are just as bad as the Ragers,” a man chimed in.

Just remember February fourteenth. It should be easy. Just think about those you love. Or used to love.”
The woman’s voice sounded tired and very small. “
If there’s anyone listening, hang in there. It’s tough. I know. I lost my brother two nights ago.”
She sounded as though she was crying.
“If someone you love becomes infected, it’s imperative you finish them off. They’re not your loved ones anymore. They’re eaters. They want to eat you.

They’re monsters. Aim for the head.”

Tomas turned the volume back down and glanced in the rearview mirror again. Their shadow was still back there. He sped up, the tires slow to cooperate in the ice.

The needle touched seventy. Behind the Rover, the other set of headlights gained speed, as well. He noticed a narrow two-lane road ahead. Just before reaching it, he turned off the headlights. He made the sharp turn and then floored it, his heart in his throat. What if there were deer in the road? Or a stalled tractor? Or perhaps a wicked curve? He went on another quarter-mile, too fast in the thick darkness, his hands tight on the wheel. Once satisfied they were well out of view, he pulled over onto the shoulder and waited. After a moment, the other set of headlights flew past on the main road. He waited another five minutes, worried that the headlights might double back. He saw nothing but darkness, and for once, he was thankful for it. He sighed and steered the Rover back onto the road.

They would soon need to find a place to stop and rest. He was growing too sleepy to drive much further, and his bladder was ready to burst.

December 31

Chapter 23

London, England

“Watch this!” Davis wore only a pair of fleece exercise pants, a T-shirt and two pairs of heavy socks. He took off, sprinting up the pet food aisle, then slid, skating in his socks across the linoleum. The kid had come to life once the lights had come on. He’d been afraid of the dark, it turned out. Worse, two nights before, he had admitted to Stu that he was positive his younger brother was waiting in the shadowy part of the market, his jaw pulled wide open and his white eyes glowing. Davis begged Stu not to tell anyone, “especially Mum, because it will upset her to think of Aidan.” Stu knew Tana obsessed over her lost son and promised to keep their conversation to himself.

Davis giggled, then fell onto his bottom hard enough to make Stu cringe.

“Are you okay?” Stu asked.

“I’m all right, Mr. McCarthy.” The little boy climbed to his feet, unscathed. “You wanna try?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He was about to ask Davis to stop—there wasn’t much any of them could do for a broken arm or fractured skull—when he heard yelling from the warehouse area. “Hold on a moment, Davis.” He sprinted toward the back.

Portia met him before he reached the stockroom area. Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “You gonna do something, Mr. McCarthy?”

“What are you talking about?”

“One of those greasy bastards tried to attack Ashley in the showers.”

Stu’s stomach tightened. “Is she okay? Did he—”

“No, he didn’t rape her, but not for lack of trying. He would’ve if I hadn’t come in, I bet.”

“Which one?” Stu asked, already knowing the answer. Both were young, but only one was outwardly aggressive. Plus, Stu had caught him undressing every female in the place with his eyes.

“Horace. That prick,” Portia muttered.

“You go back there and check on Ashley.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll handle it.” Stu had hid the supply of guns and ammo away in the supervisor’s office, and only he and George had keys. He’d never held a gun with the intention of shooting someone—well, someone who was
alive
—but that was just how he felt at that moment. He marched toward the electronics department where the three Dockers had put together a makeshift living room with a cooler full of stout, a futon sofa, and a small television/DVD combo. On the blurry screen,
Night of the Living Dead
played. Stu doubted the three oafs even caught the irony.