The Liger Plague (Book 1) (20 page)

“That’ll take care of that poxer,” Versa said.

“Help me up.”

“Come on, Colonel. Get your act together so we can get out of here.”

She helped him up, and once he stood up, he grasped the banister to keep from falling. The spinning in his head slowed but not enough to allow him to fully retain his balance. Versa grabbed his hand, the one holding the flashlight, and spun him around. He could still hear the angry snarls of the man’s family. She pulled him along, one hand around his waist, and moved until they reached the front door. He emerged into the bright light. Although the glare of the sun blinded him, he felt relieved to be back outside again, breathing in fresh air. It flooded his lungs with salty ocean breeze. Versa directed his hand on the rusted metal banister, and together they made their way down the steep concrete steps toward the sidewalk. Once they reached the bottom, Tag stared up at the bungalow and watched the front door shut behind them. It was then that he noticed that all the windows of all the homes had been covered over with blankets, drapes, cardboard, towels and sheets, anything the infected could use to keep the sunlight from making its way inside.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Versa said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

“Every house on the block has their windows covered over.”

“Does that mean we’re going to have to go inside every one of these godforsaken homes and put up with this savagery?”

“You’re more than welcome to go back to the house if you’d like. I’ll even walk you there. Then I’m going to turn right around and start looking again.”

“What do you think I am? A sissy?”

“You shot that civilian in cold blood,” he said, slipping into military jargon.

“If I didn’t pop the bastard, he would have taken a bite out of your ankle. So tough cookies for him.”

“I was thanking you, Versa.”

“No need to thank me. I need you alive if I’m gonna also make it out of this mess and return home,” she said, pointing a finger in his face. “Let’s get something straight, though. I don’t need your gratitude or your patronizing tone, you hear? Just find your family, clean this mess up you started, and then get off my island.”

“I would have done the same for you.”

“I’m sure you would have,” she said, punching his shoulder. “You feeling good enough to move?”

“My head hurts pretty badly, but at least the spinning stopped. I think I might have a concussion.”

“Any Tylenol in that backpack of yours?”

“In the side pocket with the zipper. Can you get me a couple?”

He could hear her pull down the zipper, unscrew the cap, and then zip it back up. She dropped the four tablets into his palm, and he quickly swallowed them. Hopefully, the medicine would take effect soon, and he’d be able to walk without too much pain.

“Did you see those poxers up there, Colonel? The whole family came down with the crud. Looked like they bit off their own fingers. And what was that horrible smell?”

“It comes from the gases given off when their skin begins to separate from the body.”

“Worst thing I ever smelled in my life. That or whenever my husband came home from a day of lobstering—the drunken bum.”

“They must have used their cell phones. The basal ganglion is a very mysterious part of the brain, the region known to control our emotions and shape personality.”

“I once was a nurse, Colonel, and I still don’t understand what would cause a person to bite off their own fingers.”

“Did you see the guy’s mouth? He’d chewed off his upper lip and part of his gums too. These people have an overriding desire to self-mutilate in the same way some people like to cut themselves. The medical literature claims that they feel every bit of pain, yet they still choose to injure themselves. It appears that they’re willing to attack other people too, which changes the whole dynamic of this situation.”

“Good thing we’re armed and dangerous.”

“Sure, but we can’t just go around killing everyone on this island.”

“Why not? Half the idiots living here are either morons or outsiders, and the other half want to kill us.”

“They’re sick human beings, Versa. They deserve a modicum of respect.”

“They deserve a bullet to the brain if they try and come after me. I’m shooting first and asking questions later.”

“We should shoot only as a last resort.”

“Ha! I blew that guy’s head clear off, Colonel, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving our lives.”

“Okay, but maybe we can do this more efficiently. We know that light is painful to their eyes. The first thing we should do upon entering these homes is open all the shades, remove the blankets, cardboard and blankets covering the window panes and let in the sunlight. It should help keep us safe while were searching.”

“‘Let there be light,’ spoke God,” Versa said. “‘And God saw that the light was good. And then God separated the light from darkness. ’”

“You going biblical on me now?”

“Maybe God’s trying to tell us something.”

“Like what?”

“Like how we should stop messing around with Mother Nature and leave things be. Maybe you should have thought of that rather than playing around in God’s garden with these bugs.”

“What do you think I was doing all those years in my lab? I was working to save people’s lives by coming up with vaccines against these lethal viruses. Every day in third world countries people perish from these terrible afflictions. And what about all the terrorists trying to kill Americans by using these biological organisms as weapons?”

“Maybe that’s what God meant, that we should probably leave certain things to Him. It’s not just you messing around with these viruses, Colonel, but all the dictators the world over trying to have their way. It’s God’s domain and not ours. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Shall we move on to the next house?”

“It’s your nickel.”

“Yeah, it’s my nickel, and I say we keep moving.”

“Then stop yer yapping and get a move on. Because you know what’s going to happen when the sun starts to go down. We’ll be out here in the dark with these poxers pouring out onto the street. Then what are we going to do, Colonel? We only got one flashlight.”

“We have about eight hours before the sun starts to set. That doesn’t leave us much time, so we’re going to need every last minute. We should grab every flashlight we come across. That and our firearms might be the only things that save us.”

“Now you’re making sense, Colonel. Let’s hope when this is all said and done, Cooke’s Island will return to the way it used to be before all you outsiders came over and ruined everything.”

He smiled. “Does that mean you don’t want me as a neighbor, Versa?”

“No offense, Colonel, but exchanging cards around Christmas will be fine with me.”

Tag burst out laughing. As uncalled for as that response seemed, it sounded funny to his ears, and the humor seemed to lighten the mood just enough to make this grim task tolerable. Versa had no censor to her flapping gums, but he’d begun to develop a deep and abiding sense of respect for her. He supposed he could whine about his situation, but what good would it do now? He had a job to do.

One house down, over five hundred more to go. The clock was ticking, and they needed to get moving.

Chapter 15

After searching through a dozen houses, they moved to the next one. The first thing he and Versa did upon entering was to open the curtains and remove every blanket draped over the windows. Sunlight poured in and brightened the room. The inhabitants had destroyed everything in it, upending furniture and tossing trash all over the floor in a violent rage. The walls had holes punched in them; the floors were scraped and dented. He ventured upstairs and found all the bedrooms empty. Then he went down to the basement and searched around. Everything in the unfinished basement appeared neat and orderly, defying expectations. He was about to head back upstairs when he heard a noise coming from one of the back rooms. It sounded like a tool or broom falling to the floor. He tiptoed over and discovered a door off in the corner. Putting his ear up against the wood, he thought he heard someone moving inside.

He banged on the door and heard a gasp. The person inside stumbled back and caused some items to crash to the floor.

“Who’s in there?”

“Go away!” a young boy’s voice cried out.

“You all right, son? I’m here to help.”

“Bull crap! Like those other guys who helped my parents? No thanks, mister, I got a gun to protect myself, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Don’t shoot. I’m only looking for my family,” Tag said. “What did these men do to your parents?”

“A bunch of them biker guys dragged them out of our house. I haven’t seen them since. Now go away and leave me alone before they find me too.”

“Are you sick? Is this your house?”

“Hell no, I’m not sick. And this isn’t my house. I live on the other side of the island. My dad’s a lobsterman, and my mom waits tables. I started looking for them but came in here to hide when everything started going crazy and them weirdoes started attacking people.” The kid opened the door and stepped out of the shadows.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I haven’t eaten nothing. I’m so hungry it hurts.”

Tag reached in his backpack and took out a protein bar and handed it to the boy. The scrawny kid ripped open the package and wolfed down the bar in no time. His greasy hair spiked up in every direction, and he looked filthy and smelled even worse. When he finished, he asked Tag if he could have another. Tag reached in his pack and pulled out a second bar and gave it to him, and he proceeded to devour that one as well.

“You’re a hungry little dude.”

“Who the crap are you?”

“Colonel Tag Winters, U.S. Army,” he said. “I own a summer house on the southern tip of the island.”

“Heck, that’s where all them rich folks live. My dad makes fun of all them summer people. Says Cooke’s Island used to be a good place once, with hardworking people. Only good thing about the rich, he says, is that they buy lots of his lobsters.”

“And you are?”

“Tommy Feswick, but everyone calls me Fez.”

“My friends call me Tag,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Please to meet you, Tag,” Fez said, shaking it.

“Well, Fez, I don’t have time to stand here and talk with you all day about who your father likes and dislikes. Someone on this island kidnapped my wife and daughter, and I’m out here looking to find them before it’s too late. Suppose you can either come with us or do as you will.”

“That’s sweet,” Fez said, his eyes getting big upon spotting the Magnum. “My dad always wanted one of them guns. Mind if I hold it?”

Tag passed it over to him and watched as the kid pretended to shoot. After a few seconds he handed it back.

“Can I come with you? Maybe I can find my family while we’re at it.”

“Be my guest, kid, but you’re going to have to put up with Versa.”

“Who’s Versa?”

“She’s a longtime resident of Cooke’s Island. Be forewarned, though, she’s one of these cranky old broads. Said her husband was a lobsterman too.”

“Never heard of her.” Fez shrugged. “Got more than a few lobstermen on Cooke’s.”

“I have to warn you, kid; you’re going to see some things on this island that you’ve probably never seen before. Most of the people on Cooke’s have gotten sick and have become extremely dangerous and unpredictable.”

“I went down to the water yesterday and saw something strange happening out in the bay. A few people jumped in the ocean and tried to swim across to Portland on floats or life preservers or whatever they were using. Looked like tourists to me.”

“What happened?” Tag asked, a note of panic in his voice.

“That’s the scary part. I seen some guys in these black boats cruising around the island. They told the swimmers to turn around and head back to shore, but them stupid tourists didn’t listen. Nope, they kept on swimming like they was determined to make it to land. The guys in the black boat shot them dead. Then they fished out the bodies, put them in these plastic bags and zippered them shut. I was hiding behind a rock when it happened.”

“Jesus! You mean to tell me they gunned down innocent people?”

“Yeah, and with real big rifles, too.”

“If you’re going to come along with us, Fez, you need to do exactly as I say. Agreed?”

“Sure, Tag. I’ll do anything you tell me to do.”

They returned upstairs, where Versa sat in an easy chair, waiting for them to come up from the basement. After a quick introduction, they prepared to exit the house. They were about to leave when a gunshot sounded out in the street. The three of them hit the floor. Tag and Fez crawled over to the bay window, lifted up the drape, and peered outside. A group of men walked down the street, firing their guns up into the houses. They wore red bandanas wrapped around their faces to keep from breathing any contaminated air. The makeshift mask had obviously worked as none of them appeared to have come down with the pox. Tag figured the red bandanas also doubled as a form of gang identity.

“Those are the same guys that dragged my family out of our house.”

“Were your parents sick when they took them?”

“Said they were sweating and ached all over. My parents had gone downtown to sell my dad’s lobster catch to some of the restaurants. I was out surf fishing, and then I went over to my grandfather’s house to spend the night. By the time I got back home, the two of them were all hot and puking in chowder pots. My mom told me to stay in my room so that I didn’t catch the flu.”

“What did you see?”

“I watched from the top of the steps when the men forced my parents out of the house. Two of the guys led them into the woods behind the shed. I hid in the closet upstairs so they wouldn’t find me. Then the next morning they were gone.” Tears dripped from his eyes.

“I’m real sorry, kid.”

“I wanted to kill the bastards,” Fez said, punching the wall. “Maybe they’re the ones who took your family, Tag.”

“Maybe. Let’s follow them to see where they’re going. Maybe you’re right and they did take my family. If that’s the case, we’ll make them pay for what they did.”